#ive been challenging myself to write some of the prompts from lists i saved to come back to and this one just screamed wildmoore

[pippytmi]

wrote prompt # 9 from this prompt list for wildmoore: “There is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”/ “Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you.”

_______

“Ryan, I need you to hear me out, and don’t say no until I explain.”

It is as enthusiastic a hello as any, and Ryan doesn’t question it; when it comes to her best friend and her antics (the chicken incident of last Christmas immediately comes to mind), Ryan has learned to pick her battles. “Hi, Mary,” she says, and patiently shuts her front door as Mary walks right in. “It’s nice to see you too.”

By the time Ryan has locked and bolted her door, Mary has already begun to mix white wine and orange juice into two mugs. This is not the first time Mary has tried to ply Ryan with alcohol to get her to do something really, really stupid (again, chicken thing), and Ryan wordlessly takes a seat at the island and doesn’t bother hiding her judgment.

“Okay, this must be serious,” Ryan says eventually, as Mary hands her a drink with one hand and then downs her own with the other. “I’m afraid to ask now.”

“First you have to promise you won’t interrupt me until I finish,” Mary says. “Deal?”

“Sure, fine,” Ryan agrees, and she even takes a sip out of her mug as a show of good faith. It’s absolutely abysmal given the fact that she’s just brushed her teeth, and she quickly sets it down.

Mary takes a deep breath and straightens. “I need a favor,” she says. “Or actually, Sophie needs—”

“Oh hell no.”

“Ryan!” Mary gives her a half-pout, half-frown. “You said you wouldn’t interrupt!”

“Well you didn’t mention it would involve Sophie Moore.” Taste be damned, Ryan does need alcohol for this conversation, so she says fuck it and grabs her poor man’s mimosa again. “Whatever she wants from me, tell her to forget about it.”

“Technically,” Mary says, raising a finger in the air, “she doesn’t know I’m asking you. So you can rest assured your little arch-nemesis-rivalry or whatever is still intact. And if you would let me finish, I could actually tell you the situation we’re in.”

“You mean the situation she’s in,” Ryan corrects, and Mary levels her with a stare that Ryan has come to recognize as a wordless bitch, please. “Mary, you know I love you, and I overlook your fraternization with the she-devil—”

“Oh my God, you two are so dramatic,” Mary says. “Can I speak now, or are you going to keep rehashing pointless lesbian drama? Because I’ve aged two years trying to explain that all Sophie needs is a date.”

Ryan just about chokes on her wine.

Mary ignores her spluttering and continues, “Look, Sophie called me because she was invited to her ex’s wedding, and she desperately needs a date. I mean, it’s common practice right? If you go to your ex’s wedding, you need to show up with a hot date on your arm. And normally I would’ve done it, but it just so happens that it’s my sister’s wedding…” 

“Your sister?” Ryan feels like this conversation is occurring underwater all of a sudden. “Alice, or Kate?”

“Kate, obviously,” Mary says. “Alice isn’t gay. Well, maybe a little bit, no one knows what to make of the Safiyah thing.” She visibly pauses, and then grimaces. “So not something I want to remember. The point is, Sophie already told Kate she was bringing a plus one before she found out that Kate was my sister.”

“So she lied. I don’t see why you’re over here asking me to—I don’t even know what you’re asking me to do.”

“I’m asking you to be Sophie’s wedding date,” Mary says. “But not for real, since you two are clearly too stubborn to talk to each other.”

“Hold on, what is there to talk about?” Really, at this point it’s the principle of the thing to hate Sophie Moore, who is stuck-up and standoffish and just a general stick-in-the-mud. Ryan can't be faulted for wanting nothing to do with her.

“Don't get all defensive.” But Mary laughs when she says it, and she holds out the wine bottle like it's a peace offering. “Just think about it, okay? Imagine if it was Angelique getting married and Sophie was your only option for a date. She'd do it for you.”

“No she wouldn't,” Ryan counters, but she needs no deliberation in order to accept a swig from the bottle. “And how do you know I'm her only option?”

“Because Sophie told me she's planning on skipping the wedding since she can't find another date!” Mary cries, and she’s clearly distraught at the very idea; she's worrying her bottom lip insistently, a habit Ryan knows she's trying to break. “Come on, Ryan, please? If not for Sophie, then for me. I really think Kate will be sad if Sophie doesn't go, they're in such a good place now.”

“You’re going to pull the do-it-for-me card now?”

“Yes,” says Mary without a lick of shame. “And as your best friend, you're contractually obligated to do anything for me.”

“Even if I said I'd do this,” Ryan starts, and when Mary squeals in excitement, Ryan stresses again, “Even then, Mary, Sophie won’t agree. She hates me as much as I hate her.”

“Just leave that part to me,” Mary says with all the cadence of an evil mastermind, which means it’s probably time to cut her off from the alcohol.

Thankfully they change the subject to whatever Mary is planning on wearing for said wedding, and Ryan is relieved; if this actually were a serious proposal, she is sure the world would have been ending.

.

.

.

The first time Ryan met Sophie Moore, it had been as ordinary a night as any other.

In a way it was reminiscent of the first time Ryan met Mary; Kate Kane would occasionally DJ at the bar, and Ryan met Mary on the first night she’d come in to support her sister.  Like Mary, Sophie had shown up to watch Kate DJ. Unlike Mary, Sophie had been a total asshole all night. She’d ignored all of Ryan’s attempts at small talk (which was a thing Ryan did with everyone in the interest of tips, it was not flirting, no matter how Mary described it). Then when Sophie’s sister Jordan told her to “flirt back with the cute bartender” (which Ryan still objects to every time she thinks about it), Sophie—who was in earshot of Ryan—replied that Ryan wasn’t her type.

And honestly, Ryan could’ve overlooked all of that. She could have! Sophie Moore had no obligation to find Ryan attractive, or even be polite when Ryan served her, so long as she paid her bill and didn’t cause trouble. But at the end of the night Sophie—still in earshot—had remarked to Jordan that the drinks were subpar, and Ryan was pissed. This went beyond poor consumerism; it was just plain rude! And clearly, Sophie had intended for Ryan to hear it, so it just went to show that Sophie Moore was a snob.

Which is why when Mary comes sweeping into the bar and announces, “Guess what, Ryan—you have a date Saturday night,” Ryan almost drops the glass she’s cleaning.

“Oh no no no,” Ryan hastily interjects, setting the glass aside before she uses it as a weapon. “Do not tell me you actually told Sophie I’d do it.”

“You’re doing your best friend a favor and I love you,” Mary says without a hint of remorse, and she completely ignores Ryan’s slack-jawed response, just happily takes a seat at the bar and lifts a menu as if she doesn’t already have it memorized. “Hey, can you bring me some mozzarella sticks?”

“We’re not open,” Ryan says, snatching said menu back. “Mary. Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you?” Mary squints at her for a second. “I’m sorry, did you or did you not say you’d do it if Sophie agreed?”

“I said Sophie wouldn’t agree, even if I said I would.”

“Well she did agree, and I said you would, so…” Mary looks far too expectant for a dead woman walking. “I think it’s time you two buried the hatchet anyway. This isn’t Family Feud, you know. I feel like the child of a divorce sometimes.”

“You’ve never watched Family Feud in your life, have you?” Ryan shakes her head. “You know what, forget it. I just can’t believe you right now.”

Mary gasps. “You listened to me explain! Are you seriously acting like I’m springing this on you?”

“You made me listen to you!”

“Okay, I feel like you’re missing the point here, Ryan.” Mary says, “Which is why I am trying to promote healthy forgiveness.”

Ryan narrows her eyes. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Forgive me for caring about two of my friends finding mutual respect,” Mary says dramatically. “I guess I’ll just tell Sophie that you flaked, and that she’s going to have to return the dress she bought, and my dad will be devastated because he loves Sophie more than all of us combined…”

“You’re seriously trying to guilt-trip me now?” Ryan groans, and she stares longingly at the bottles on the shelf that she can’t consume. “Fine. Fine! If this really means so much to you, I’ll pretend to tolerate Sophie. But you’re going to have to lend me something to wear, because your family’s too rich to be around.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Mary beams, throwing her arms over the counter to drag Ryan into an uncomfortable half-hug. “And did I mention there’s an open bar?”

“Well damn, you could’ve led with that,” Ryan says, and Mary swats her with a newly-stolen menu.

“So does this mean you’ll get me mozzarella sticks now?”

“No, Mary, we are still closed.”

.

.

.

What does one wear to a date with the devil?

Ryan ponders this once, then twice, and ultimately goes with the black dress stashed in the very back of her closet that she bought for a funeral she never attended. It’s not fancy—modest enough to wear in a church if that was her thing—which suits her just fine. The last thing she wants is Sophie getting the impression she’s trying to dress up for her, or anything.

She is pairing her casual outfit with some silver hoops when her phone rings. It’s Mary, for the hundredth time today. For as desperate as Mary made Sophie sound, Sophie hasn’t made an actual effort to make sure Ryan was coming; no, that honor is apparently all Mary’s.

“Hi, Mary,” Ryan says, putting her on speaker so she can toss her phone to the side. “What’s up?”

“Hey! I just wanted to call and make sure you’re not escaping out a window right now.”

Ryan has to bite back a scoff. “I'm not a fucking runaway bride,” she says. “Wait. Unless this is all some sick, twisted way to get me married to Sophie Moore and you're lying about your sister's wedding.”

“God, you're the most dramatic person I know.” There is rustling on the other end, like Mary is shuffling through paper. “This is why I did not rule out jumping five stories to get out of this.”

“That’s a very tempting offer now that you mention it.”

“Ugh, you’re going to be insufferable all night, aren’t you?” More rustling. “Okay I did actually have a reason to call you this time. I sent a car over to your house—the driver said he’d get there in fifteen minutes. You guys will stop to pick up Sophie on the way.”

“How romantic,” Ryan quips. “Just me, Sophie, and our Uber driver.”

“Come on, I had to make sure you didn’t kill each other before the wedding even started,” Mary says. “Just be nice to the chauffeur. There’s no amount of money in the world that I could pay him which would compensate him for sitting through your drama.”

“Of course, I’ll be a saint to the chauffeur.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “This might be some pretentious rich people shit but I do have manners, you know.”

Mary exhales. “If I hang up,” she says, “will you promise to behave?”

“Really? That is a serious question you're asking me?”

“I need a yes or no answer,” Mary remains stubbornly steadfast.

A beat. “...yes, I’ll behave.”

“Then I will see you at the party. Love you bye!”

Ryan shakes her head to herself. “Bye,” she says to absolutely no one in particular. Well, disastrous situation aside, she makes the most of her fifteen minutes of freedom: she finishes her makeup, takes a quick shot of vodka for liquid courage, and makes her way downstairs to wait for the car so the driver doesn’t have to deal with the conundrum that is her apartment gate.

The chauffeur is a nice, older guy who holds open Ryan’s door and doesn’t try to make her talk. Instead, he plays jazz music and remarks ever so often about traffic and the weather. The vodka is doing just enough to make Ryan relaxed until, well…they reach Sophie’s door. 

As much as Ryan will fight tooth and nail to admit it, Sophie Moore is unfairly attractive. She emerges in a fitted orange dress, hair swept over her shoulder, and with a grim expression that Ryan can’t even take pleasure in when she knows her own face is practically a mirror.

“Hi, Ryan,” Sophie says stiffly.

“Sophie,” Ryan acknowledges just as formally. And then, they sit in complete silence.

Their chauffeur undoubtedly picks up on the tension; he checks on them from his mirror once or twice, but doesn’t ask if they’re okay, he just plays his music louder. When they arrive at the venue, Ryan pops open the door before he can even walk around to get it, already itching to escape.

Sophie lets him open her door, though, and she tips him even though Ryan knows Mary has already done the same ahead of time. Begrudgingly, Ryan can respect that. 

“I…wanted to thank you,” Sophie says once they’re alone. “For doing this.”

Ryan shrugs. “Well, Mary asked me to,” she says. “So.”

Sophie purses her lips. “Either way,” she says, in a manner that is clearly quite annoyed, “I appreciate it.”

“Mm-hm.” Ryan watches as other guests steadily trickle past them, and she sighs, ready to accept her fate. “Should we go in?”

“Yes, but…” Sophie stops Ryan with a hand to her shoulder before she can actually walk inside. “Can you at least try to look like you want to be here?”

Ryan blinks. “What? Am I not believable enough for you?”

“Not if you walk in there like I’m leading you to a guillotine, no,” Sophie replies, brow crinkling. “You know, there is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”

“Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you,” Ryan huffs, and Sophie’s expression twists into an offended glare.

“Why did you agree, then?”

“Because there was a whole thing with Mary, and—” Ryan stops before she’s ahead. “It doesn’t matter. I showed up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Sophie mutters without any sincerity, and Ryan follows her inside dreaming of that open bar.

.

.

.

Ryan meets the bride just as she’s two drinks in, a third flute of champagne raised to her lips as Sophie not-so-subtly elbows her to pay attention.

“Hi,” Kate Kane says, holding out her hand which Ryan belatedly realizes is for her. “Nice to finally meet the elusive girlfriend.”

“Yes, we were starting to think you didn't exist,” Alice, the other Kane sister, chimes in; she's staring Ryan down with an eerily searching gaze, and Ryan subtly shifts closer to Sophie.

“Well, here I am,” Ryan says, unsurely resting a hand on Sophie's waist. Sophie clearly isn't expecting it, because she starts, throwing Ryan a sharp glance over her shoulder.

“How fun,” Alice says gleefully. “What a nice big, happy family we’ll become. When are you two getting married? I can officiate now that I’m ordained.”

“Alice,” Mary hisses. “You can’t just ask people when they’re getting married.”

“Why not? This wedding is basically a parade of Sophie’s exes. If Ryan doesn’t marry her after all this, it’s a waste of a date.” 

Ryan twists to look at Sophie at the words “parade of Sophie’s exes.” Sophie, at least, looks adequately mortified. 

“She’s kidding,” Mary laughs, high-pitched and nervous as Alice just shrugs. “Hey, we should go take a picture with Dad. Just the Kane sisters! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Okay, but if I have to hear another passive-aggressive rant about the ceremony, I’m going to kill myself and everyone in the room with me,” Alice’s voice fades away as Mary frantically shoves her (and Kate) along.

Sophie clears her throat. “So that was my ex,” she says. “Kate, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ryan should be taking delight in the way Sophie is clearly uncomfortable, but in a strange turn of events, she can’t. In fact, she feels kind of bad.

“I need a drink,” Sophie sighs, and Ryan wordlessly holds out her glass. Surprised, Sophie eyes it up and down, but accepts it all the same. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ryan cranes her neck to peer at Mary, who is indeed wrangling her sisters towards Jacob Kane. “Hey. Question: Mary said that Jacob Kane pretty much loves you?”

Sophie half-coughs, half-sputters her next sip. “That’s…not entirely accurate.”

“But not untrue?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow, and Sophie’s shoulders slump like she’s lost a battle she hadn’t begun.

“I used to work with him,” Sophie confesses. “That’s how I met Kate. I guess I was kind of his favorite employee or whatever, but—that was a long time ago. It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who gets embarrassed easily,” Ryan notes, and Sophie tilts her head, pursuing her lips like she has to think about it.

“Maybe,” Sophie finally admits, “but showing up today dateless would’ve for sure hit the limit.”

Ryan nods thoughtfully. “So that’s why you were so desperate to bring me,” she says. “Even though you don’t think I’m your type.”

This time, Sophie fully chokes on her champagne. “W-what?”

“You don’t have to pretend.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “I heard you tell your sister that. I’m not, like, offended. It was still rude, but—”

“I didn’t know you could hear us,” Sophie says, and in a perplexing turn of events, she looks quite apologetic about the idea. “I didn’t mean it. I just…said it to get my sister off my back.”

“Oh.” Even as the words sink in, Ryan’s brain can’t seem to form a rational response to this information. Or stop the fact that when Sophie bites her lip in anticipation, Ryan’s eyes are automatically drawn to Sophie’s mouth. “I thought you kind of meant for me to hear it.”

“Is that why you think I’m an asshole?” Sophie blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well why did you think I was so mad at you?”

“I thought you just had a problem with police!”

Ryan sucks in a breath. “Oh, no, I definitely do. I guess my reaction was warranted.”

“Real mature,” Sophie says, narrowing her eyes ever-so-slightly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips so Ryan knows she isn’t taking it personally.

“No, for real, do you still work with the police? Because this is so not going to work if you do. My acting skills can only go so far,” Ryan says.

Sophie scoffs. “You’ll survive,” she says, and twists to peek back at the busy bar. “Should we join the line for another drink?”

Ryan follows her line of sight and resolutely shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

.

.

.

“You seriously brought a flask to a wedding with an open bar?”

“If you’re going to keep complaining, I’m going to take my whiskey elsewhere,” Ryan threatens half heartedly, but she gets a heady rush when Sophie tilts her head back to take another drink, and knows then and there she’s going nowhere else besides this coat check closet.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” Sophie says, passing the flask back; her fingertips brush against Ryan’s for longer than necessary. “Was the hiding necessary?”

“Duh,” Ryan says, taking another sip. “Mary would never let me live it down if she saw. She’s already given me so much shit about—” She pauses, not sure if she should continue, and Sophie gives a disbelieving laugh.

“You really didn’t want to be my date, did you? God, you’re so petty.”

“Fake date,” Ryan corrects her hastily. “And you seriously can’t blame me when you were the one being rude as hell in the first place.”

“But it wasn’t really what I thought!”

“Oh so I am your type,” Ryan challenges, and Sophie looks away, blushing.

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to bruise your ego.”

“That is the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” Ryan feels the whiskey like liquid warmth, settling right in her chest, and she grins when Sophie groans. “Come on, Sophie. I’m going to make you work for it.”

“Fine, I’m sorry for…being rude. Even if it was a little white lie and you weren’t supposed to hear it.” Sophie holds out her hand for the flask again, and Ryan is feeling magnanimous enough to let her have it. 

“Still not the best, but I’ll take it.” Ryan leans her head against the wall and sighs, a little sleepy and a little tipsy but otherwise quite content. “You know, you’re not that bad. Even though you don’t have an actual chance with me since you work for the Gotham PD, I think we can be friends.”

“Oh my God, I don’t even work for them anymore,” Sophie says. “I’m—between jobs.” Ryan watches her wince, like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and Ryan closes her eyes and just hums.

“Been there,” she muses. “Mary saved my ass by getting me a job. If you want some pointers, I’m sure I can make a bartender out of you.”

Sophie gives a huff of a laugh. “My mom would actually die if I told her I was training to be a bartender.”

“Hey, it takes a lot to do what we do,” Ryan says. “Not many people can perfect the art of a Long Island Iced Tea, let me tell you.”

“Except for you?” Sophie is already sitting close to share the whiskey, but when she turns to whisper this teasingly, Ryan is struck by how close their faces are. Like if they shifted even two inches, their noses would be brushing.

It takes Ryan a beat to recover, but she manages: “Obviously. It keeps all the customers coming back.”

Sophie’s mouth twitches like she wants to laugh again, but she settles for a smile, amused and plainly unconvinced. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she says, and she turns away, their closeness vanishing in an instant. “Do you think anyone is missing us?”

“Mary probably assumes I’ve killed you by now,” Ryan says. “But everyone else probably thinks we snuck off for a hookup.”

“At someone’s wedding?” Sophie sounds positively scandalized at the idea. “That’s…crazy. And us? Do we give off that vibe?”

Ryan watches Sophie squirm and finds it, strangely, very cute. Fuck. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but, couples generally hook up. And weddings are pretty much the #1 place where they do it. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Because you go to so many weddings, or is this just a statistic all bartenders know?”

“Don’t hate the player,” Ryan says, waving the flask to make her point, and Sophie finally breaks down into real laughter.

“Oh, God,” she exhales afterward, “what time is it? I think you’ve somehow managed to keep me at this wedding longer than I wanted to. I had a plan to stick around for like an hour or two just to be nice, but…”

“But I’m just that great of a date, I know,” Ryan says, if only to make Sophie blush again.

“Fake date,” Sophie says pointedly. “Remember?”

Ryan bites her lip. “Right,” she says, and just as Sophie is shifting like she’s about to stand up and ruin the moment, Ryan blurts out: “But what if it wasn’t fake?”

Sophie freezes. “What?”

“We could make this a real date,” Ryan says, heart working so hard it feels like it’s about to race out of her body. “If you wanted it to be.”

“Seriously?” Sophie’s mouth falls open slightly, and she says nothing else, just looks at Ryan with those big brown eyes and heart-shaped mouth agape.

“Unless I’m really not your type and you’re just trying to save my feelings,” Ryan tries to quip, but as Sophie seems to struggle through every conflicted expression known to man, Ryan’s hopes fall into the pit of her stomach. “You know what? Never mind. Obviously that’s not what this is and I’m—” She blindly shoves her flask back into her jacket so she can stand.

But before she can even get away (and fall into the beckoning embrace of the open bar), there’s a hand tugging her back down, and then Sophie Moore is kissing her. It’s a rushed, chaste kiss during which Ryan is definitely too stiff, but it does the trick; Ryan stumbles right back down, and Sophie jerks away, fingertips curled into the collar of Ryan’s jacket without letting go.

“You were talking too much,” Sophie breathes, and Ryan nods at her dumbly.

The only thing her brain can possibly formulate a thought for is: “Wait, so this whole time I really was your type?”

“Shut up,” Sophie says, and when she yanks Ryan back in for another kiss, Ryan is already leaning in at the same time, kissing Sophie as well as her smile allows.

(She’ll have to thank Mary for this later. Much, much later).

[rabdoidal]

i know you listen to a lot of podcasts and ive found some of my favourites from hearing you talk about them! do you have any favourites?

under the cut! my top 10 podcasts at the moment:

Alice Isn’t Dead Genre: horror, thriller, drama, Lovecraftian, Americana Episode count: 30 (completed) Description: A truck driver searches across America for the wife she had long assumed was dead. In the course of her search, she will encounter not-quite-human serial murderers, towns literally lost in time, and a conspiracy that goes way beyond one missing woman. Thoughts: This podcast is, to me at least, completely flawless in every way. I would consider myself a person that listens to a lot of horror podcasts, but Alice Isn’t Dead takes the cake for its depictions of liminal middle America, the horror that is capitalism, and the most tender, realistic depiction of lesbians in any podcast. Anything else I could say would spoil it and for this, I don’t want to spoil it because I want every person alive that can stomach horror to listen to this.

Archive 81 Genre: horror, comedy, sci-fi, Lovecraftian Episode count: 35 (ongoing) Description: Archive 81 is a found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound. Thoughts: The latest podcast I’ve tried, and it’s definitely one that grows on you. The audio mixing is some of the best I’ve heard in any podcast, and every bump and scratch and hum of frequency weaves to form moments that are truly and viscerally gory. Season 3 and Left of The Dial are my favorites because again, I love Americana horror, and anything that involves family!

Artificial Ghost Radio Genre: non-fiction, discussion, comedy Episode count: 75 (ongoing) Description: Our Sisyphean music recommendation challenge with hosts Miles (he/him) and Jupiter (she/they) challenge each other to find songs based on arbitrary themes and to spin the WHEEL OF DISCORD to talk about a random song from their library! They can be found on twitter @artghostpod. Thoughts: Gotta plug my own podcast! We’re still small, but the people I’ve met from doing AGR has made my life richer and fuller, even through the ups and downs. I recommend starting with #58: Songs about Aliens ft. our friend Liz (@thescaryjokes)!

EOS 10 Genre: medical drama, comedy, sci-fi Episode count: 34 (ongoing) Description: Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight. Thoughts: It’s been a hot minute since I listened, but as someone that inherently loves things like Star Trek and procedural comedies, EOS 10 is a quick and hilarious listen! Fair warning some of the earlier stuff is a little bit ignorant when it comes to their LGBT characters, but it gets a lot better over time.

King Falls AM Genre: horror, comedy, Lovecraftian Episode count: 100 (ongoing) Description: King Falls AM centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants Thoughts: I’m a bit behind, but again, gotta love some Alpine American horror! King Falls AM perfectly captures the feeling and sound of listening to a small late night radio show with two bros, but it really goes from typical dude dialogue to heart wrenching found family alien conspiracy real quick. Same as EOS 10, fair warning for some ignorant language and LGBT stereotypes, but they address it and it gets better as it progresses.

Not Another D&D Podcast Genre: actual play Dungeons and Dragons, TTRPG, comedy Episode count: 128 (ongoing) Description: Welcome to the campaign after the campaign! Three unlikely adventurers attempt to right the wrongs caused by a party of legendary heroes who screwed up the world while trying to save it. Thoughts: I’m only like 40 episodes in because they’re thick, meaty ‘sodes, but god is NADDPOD fucking hilarious. I’ve tried a fair few TTRPG shows, but the chemistry and care that the cast has together is unmatched by others in the genre. I’m a complete sucker for shows that are so funny and so tragic in equal measures, and the entire concept of a D&D game set after the world has been so drastically changed by a different D&D game is so unique!

The Faculty of Horror Genre: non-fiction, horror, philosophy, sociology, feminism Episode count: 86 (ongoing) Description: Tackling all things horror with a slash of analysis and research, horror journalists and occasional academics Andrea Subissati and Alexandra West are your hosts for brain-plumping discussions on all things that go bump in the night. Thoughts: A little non-fiction in this list of fiction podcasts! The Faculty of Horror is a concise and educated intersectional feminist podcast, and it’s a breath of fresh air to listen to anyone that isn’t a cishet white guy talk about horror. I highly recommend the episode on Cabin in The Woods or Jennifer’s Body!

The Magnus Archives Genre: horror, office comedy Episode count: 180 (ongoing) Description: The Magnus Archives is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organization dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Thoughts: TMA is, similarly to A81, a bit of a slow burn to get into, but I think once you listen to a few episodes you’ll know if you want to continue. It’s a pretty standard prompt for a narrative, but the sheer amount of individual short horror stories they’ve managed to write is insane! And I love the slow break down between recording statements and the stuff happening within the archives. Also one of the best redemption stories in a character that starts off as such a grumpy fuck!

The Penumbra Podcast Genre: sci-fi, neo-noir, romance, comedy, found family, magic, medieval fantasy, adventure, mystery Episode count: 75 (ongoing) Description: At the Penumbra, you might follow Juno Steel, a brooding, sharp-witted private eye on Mars, as he tangles with an elusive homme fatale, tracks dangerous artifacts of an ancient alien civilization, and faces his three greatest fears: heights, blood, and relationships. Or you might enter the world of the Second Citadel, where the merciless Sir Caroline must corral a team of emotionally distraught all-male knights to defend their city against mind-manipulating monsters...even the ones they’ve fallen in love with. Thoughts: On god TPP was a life changing podcast for me. Having creators that are genuinely concerned with accurately representing minorities with care and dedication makes me feel spoiled when I try listen to anything else. The two main universes are so different with their own set of histories and cultures, but I love them both so completely. If you want LGBT+ representation, this is the seminal podcast for everything non-binary, trans, queer, and people that aren’t afraid to change and have that change be known! I haven’t listened to another podcast that actually depicts transitioning like they do, absolute king shit.

Wolf 359 Genre: space drama, comedy, action Episode count: 61 (completed) Description: WOLF 359 is a radio drama in the tradition of Golden Age of Radio shows. Set on board the U.S.S. Hephaestus space station, the dysfunctional crew deals with daily life-or-death emergencies, while searching for signs of alien life and discovering there might be more to their mission than they thought Thoughts: Wolf 359 is like if you fell down the stairs and at the bottom of the stairs was a bear trap, and then after you step in the bear trap someone helps you take off that beartrap, but then they kick you in the nuts. Just replace physical pain with emotional pain. It can be so funny but also so fucking stressful and sad – w359 isn’t afraid to kill its darlings, and it will break your heart but you will still say thank you.

[kaitlynpcallmebeepme]

I’ll Fight For You

I’ll Fight For You

Peter Parker x Reader 

Warnings:  Fight scene, explosions, hurt descriptions, starving self, swearing I think, nursing organ facts (tell me if you think of any more), fluff, and a hint of angst

A/N: This is the work I have for @keepingupwiththeparkers for her 4,000 follower writing challenge. 

#kuwtp4kwc

Thinking about making an origin story for Gargoyle. The good title I thought of I want to save for my series. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Requests are open and Messages are open if you want to chat. The gifs came from google, so credit goes to the person who made them. I don’t own Gargoyles the show either.

Background: Only slight endgame spoilers for this description. In my world, Carol snapped the gauntlet to kill Thanos and made it through the time machine, but left the mind and time stone so they could bring Vision back and returned the soul stone to save Natasha, and Steve didn't go back in time. Avengers Tower was bought back until the compound could be rebuilt and remained as a kind of a base since Queens is closer to the tower than the compound.

Tag list: Send me an ask if you want to be added. 

@trashinaglass and @peter-pan-hoe ♡

Dialogue prompt:

8. “I thought I’d lost you”

Word count: 1,860

The intel was terrible at best. When have you ever heard of a hydra agent defecting.  That didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that your team, the Avengers, got the intel about chemical weapons Hydra was developing and get out of the base as quickly as possible. 

Taking revenge on the people who tortured you is one of the sweetest things ever. You were Y/n. Last name you never knew. Part of a species of bat-human hybrids that you were the sole survivor of, thanks to hydra of course. Mainly a human body with slightly pointed ears, retractable claws, an echolocation trackability, better hearing, sharp teeth, bat-shaped wings protruding from your back, skin that can turn to stone, and slight healing powers, which were amplified if you turned completely to stone for some time. You took the name Gargoyle after Peter showed you The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was his job to catch you, Steve, and Bucky up on all of the pop culture stuff you missed.

You and Peter had the bottom floor almost cleared with the task of searching for hostages. You liked the curly-haired nerd. You two were around the same age when the Avengers raided the Hydra base you were kept captive in. He was the one to hoist your bloody body over his shoulders and carry you out of there. You both valued stealth and sticking to ceilings. You both often trained together and we're interested in both of your talents, yours of which was blacksmithing and Anatomy. You both tested your powers to see how far you could push each other and discover what your limits were. Peter could spend an hour upside-down before he started to feel fatigued and your healing ability worked better if you have a lot of what was hurt. For example, a kidney would heal a lot faster than a heart because there are two kidneys and one heart. 

Okay, back to the mission. No hostages or test subjects have been found as you and Peter kept making your way around your floor. It was mainly storage rooms with few people in the hallways. Not as exciting for you, but you didn't want to go into a room where you two couldn't handle what was inside.

You and Peter got on the ceiling in front of the last room you had to check off your floor. When all of a sudden the door burst open on its own and the air was filled with bullets. Two big guys with miniguns. TWO?!?! Normally it would be one and a lot of smaller henchmen covering him. You looked at Peter for some silent sign of a game plan. He drew a 'Z' with his fingers and pointed to his web shooter. Then made the cracking fist motion with his hands. You nodded and made a silent prayer that this worked because you hated having to play fair when taking out minigunners. Peter shot the two guys with taser webs, which brought them both to the floor. You two then dropped down and started going ham on betting these two up. You just hit the back of their head until their occipital lobe knocked out their vision. Fury would be by later to arrest everyone, but you wanted to make sure they stayed down. You cut up their arms and legs a bit just so it would make it difficult for any of the men to escape. You disarmed the miniguns and Peter webbed down the guys as best as he could. 

"Wonder what they were guarding?" 

"I don't know Gargoyle, but we better be careful."

You gently pushed the door open revealing a planning room covered in blueprints. Some were for cannons and others were for what looked like experiments. Turning humans into other creatures, which in turn would be used for Hydra. 

"Make sure to have Karen scan all these."

Before you could analyze the plans in front of you, you were knocked to the ground. Your body went into full fight mode preparing to stab whoever tackled you. Good thing your mind caught up to your instincts and realized it was Peter who was on top of you. Your senses were thrown off as all you could hear was bullet shells hitting the ground and an AK-47 going on full blast. You extended your arm and hit a button to make a small sharp disc fly out from above your wrist. The disk shot under the table and took the last man standing down. You kicked the gun away and gave the guy a few scars with your Assassin's Creed wrist knives. 

It was only then when you realized that Peter didn't get up. He was groaning in the middle of the floor where you left him.  He was on his side, but you could see the number of bullets in his left side. You turned Peter over and realized he's bleeding a lot faster than he should be. 

"Hit near the pancreas and spleen. Shit." If there was one thing you remembered from all your time studying Anatomy, it was those two organs have a lot of blood going through them. "Nonononono. Kid, you gotta stay with me. You gotta stay awake." You hit his face a bit to keep him conscious. 

You didn't want to move him because that could make it worse and you were definitely not qualified to remove bullets on a battlefield from an advanced human. So you did the next best thing. You held the button on your earpiece. "Code Blue. Underoos's been hit. I repeat. Code Blue. Underoos's been hit." 

"What? Where are you guys?" Tony's panicked voice wasn't helping your demeanor.

"Basement; in a room full of blue-." Your eyes grew wide for a split second as you saw the guy who shot Peter with a grenade in his hand and his thumb in the ring.

"Hail Hydra." 

You didn't have time to think. You scooped up Peter and ran as fast as you could before the pin could be pulled. You both barely made it to the doorway before the whole room exploded. You wings protected the two of you from most of the flames, didn't mean it didn't hurt. 

"Kids, you ok?" There came the Dad voice from Clint again. Clint, you liked to call the perfect mix of sass and fatherly advise.

You slowly lifted your wings but kept them up to keep the rubble dust out of your eyes. You looked over at Peter who you could tell was still losing consciousness. "We're fine. The basement's clear. I can run him back to the quinjet and rush him to the medbay of you guys can meet me there." 

"We're done here. Everyone meet at the jet and we're rushing the kid back. Do you need cover?" Natasha was one of the few people to keep Tony's mind straight besides Pepper.

"No. I can run him back up. The basement's clear." Just as I scooped Peter back up and started to run to the stairs, remote turrets came online. "Of people."

Your bare feet skidded across the dirty floor as you made a break for the Northwest stairs while trying to avoid the bodies that littered the floor. Your wings covered you both, but the bullets that hit your legs still hurt. Your heart pounded in your ears as the only person you were worried for was Peter. Did he lose too much blood? Was his body healing around the bullets? Would he ever wake up from this? You pushed your thoughts to the back of your head and focused on running. 

The snow of Ireland made your bare feet bleed, but you were numb to pain at this point as you layed Peter down in the jet. You tried to focus all of your healing energy to your hands, but it wasn't helping. You just decided to step back and let Bruce and Tony try their hardest to help as F.R.I.D.A.Y flew you back to the tower.

They took Peter to the Intensive Care Unit and only when they gave him a transfusion of blood and took all 12 bullets out of his side were you allowed to see him. He had a slight concussion and his face was bruised from the fall. You couldn't do anything to help him but hold his hand with the IV still in.

"Do you remember when we met? It was my first day. Still getting used to the compound. You were hanging from the ceiling as I was quenching a blade in the garage and scared the shit out of me I almost left the blade too long in the oil. I was a mess then. Still thinking that I was undeserving of love. That hydra had used me too much that I wasn't worth anything anymore. Even before Hydra my parents never made me feel good about myself." A shaky breath left your cut lip as you let tears silently slip out. "You're too good for this world Peter. You go out of your way for the little guy. You made me realize no matter how many people kick you in the jaw, even if it's one person or just yourself that wants you to keep going, you get the hell back up. I am that now for you. Please wake up. Please. Just don't be dead. Please." You were crying waterfalls at that point that any words you tried to make came out shaky.

"You are my sunshine 

My only sunshine 

You make me ha... ha-ppy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you 

Please don't take

God please don't take 

My sunshine away."

A week he was asleep. A week too long. His body was healing fine and fast. His brain just needs to realize he's ok and wake up. May visited a lot and talked to you. She felt like another mother to you. In fact, all the women you met through the Avengers were your mother. Well, Shuri was a little older than you, so she's your older sister.  You refused to eat and got ticked off at anyone who tried to get you to. Of course you couldn't die, but starving was slow and it hurt. Eventually, Wanda had to put you in a dreamlike trans in order for them to put an IV in you. You couldn't leave Peter, you couldn't.

One morning you woke up from the side of Peter's bed and saw his eyes open and him sitting up. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. I woke up in the night and the nurse brought me water and said you haven't left me since I got here." His hand went up and whipped away a tear that you didn't realize was falling.

"You got me there Parker. Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I'd lost you."

"I won't and you can't get rid of me that easily." He kissed your forehead as you kept smiling through the tears. "Now we better eat before we get suffocated in Aunt May and Mr. Star's hugs." 

"Agreed."

[morethanonepage]

2016 Fic Writing Round-up

I was tagged by @kittyaugust​! I always love doing these, thanks so much for giving me the chance to!

Total 2016 Word Count:  61,508 Total 2016 Hits: (AO3 only) 21,573 Other 2016 AO3 Stats: 

Total 2015 Word Count: 33,490 Total 2015 Hits: (AO3 only) 11,772 Other 2015 AO3 Stats: 

lmao that’s what’s called going from a david fandom (Constantine) to a goliath (Star Wars). But still, Jesus Christ, that differential: I literally more than doubled kudos and hits! 

More detailed stats:

And since I had all those numbers anyway:

 And just for fun:

It always feels like I write WAY too much porn but....the numbers do not actually reflect that. It’s not even a majority of what I posted this year! 

For fun I also did comment rate (how many comments per kudos a fic got), response rate and comment rate by word count (I was curious if my longer fics were better/worse received -- there doesn’t seem to be any correlation though), and then average comment and response rates depending on rating, which actually seems to indicate my gen and teen fics are better received than my porn. 

*Obviously my kudos/hits ratio doesn’t account for repeated readings, which you can’t kudo for -- everything here’s just a rough estimate. But conventional fanfic writer wisdom (that I’ve noticed) is that a 10% response rate is what to aim for -- higher than that is always phenomenal. 

Links and titles to 2016 works

Star Wars -- The Force Awakens/Shattered Empire

save an x-wing, ride an ex-stormtrooper (1745 words) -- Finn/Poe smut to start off the New Year! I started this on January 3 and posted it on January 4. That’s phenomenal for me. Unprecedented, honestly. I think this is the most popular Finn/Poe fic I’ve written, not that I’ve written that many, relatively. Mostly I just wanted to use the title and was afraid someone else was going to scoop it. Response rate (kudos/hits * 100, which is to say, how many people who read it deemed it worth a kudos): 9.7%*

If the Refresher’s a-Rockin'… (2046 words) -- More Finn/Poe porn, just trying to get it out of my system at that point I guess. I do like some of the Finn stuff I snuck in there at the end, about stormtrooper training & what it prepared him for. This one wasn’t as popular (hit wise_ as the other, but it had a higher response rate (11%), so that’s something. Four day turn around time. 

going, going, gone (2700 words) -- Ahhhhh my infamous Poe & Kylo Ren fic. I got a lot of Poe/Kylo shippers reading that which is....the opposite of what I wanted. It was 100% more meant to be about Poe and his ability to forgive and find decency in people than about Kylo Ren actually having any left but uh....people still wanted a sequel. I was very diplomatic about the possibilities of that but real talk: no. Especially not with the current state of TFA fandom. An unsurprisingly high response rate at 13.5%. 

bleed and fight for you (make it right for you) (2938 words) -- Some Shara/Kes stuff, which I was super excited about but wouldn’t have written as quickly (in five days) if not for the fact that someone one the kinkmeme was a brat about the prompter of this asking for Shara & Kes related stuff. My You know what???!!! spite writing was p fast at the beginning of the year -- now I’m just tired. Response rate at 13.1%, which is nice. 

Seisin (2375) -- More Shara/Kes stuff, with my Yavin IV love creeping in. Mostly written because Snow Patrol’s “The Finish Line” came up on shuffle and I was like dang, that’s such a post-war Shara/Kes on Yavin IV song, so then I wrote the image that came into my head. I legit wrote it all in one day and posted it write away, it seems. Response rate: 13%.

not what ships are built for (4401) -- Oooof, my eternal shame, a WIP. Finn/Poe, I felt so confident going in that I had enough of a grasp on it that I could actually finish it according to a timeline, but then it turned out -- I could not. I liked the idea I had for it, alternating POV fics are always fun to work through, an interesting way to keep in practice with both characters and get a good idea of everyone’s personality and everything. Maybe one day I’ll get back to it; it’s another one of those things I should’ve outlined ON (digital) PAPER and not just in my head, because now I’m not sure where I wanted to go with it anymore. If I give it another read through maybe I’ll figure it out? Response rate: 10.2%.

and so it goes (11401) -- Yessssss the Id Fic. Meant to be the fluffiest sweetest first love nonsense imaginable, to counteract a lot of fandom trends and also make up for all the gooey Kylux stuff (which: lbr, I read too). I JUST WANT FINN AND POE TO BE HAPPY. Also featuring Kes Dameron Is A Good Dad, my favorite trope. Anyway I was really surprisingly happy with this fic, which is rare. Response rate: 10.2%

K-I-S-S-I-N-G (2530) -- I saw an Imagine Your OTP type thing about tree climbing trees and it was so cute that it struck me instantly as an Id Fic moment to explore. So there we are. Writing this fic made it kind of a series so now they’re the Teenage Dreams universe.  Response rate: 12.3%.

a strong enough foundation (21274) -- This was informally called the Travelogue Fic for the longest time, because so much of it is about (my conception of) Yavin IV. It’s also a fic that’s incredibly personal to me, at least w/r/t the imagery and the reactions to a lot of the Typical Yavin IV Things. It’s also 21K words of gen, so I get why it’s got the lowest response rate of anything I wrote this year (7%) but I still feel like...it was good for me to write.

(do it on my) twin bed (3514) -- Another Finn/Poe fic originally from the kinkmeme, which I finally brought to my AO3 at the end of 2016 to have something nice and fluffy to end the year on. It’s also got a lot of Yavin IV/Poe’s childhood details going on, because I love that shit. Response rate: 13.8%.

Constantine

culpability (3493 words) -- John/Chas. I have like a million (four. I have four) John/Chas things started that’ve been languishing in Evernote for at least a year, and then I decided, on a whim and for reasons I don’t even recall, to write & finish this from scratch. It took me 23 days (started October 22, published November 14), which is a relatively short turn around for me. It’s also got the highest response rate of anything I wrote this year, at almost 19%. Probably because Constantine fandom and John/Chas shippers in particular don’t have a lot of other options at the moment as to what to read lmao. 

Favorite Fic: a strong enough foundation and culpability are probably tied -- the former because it’s very personal, the latter because I still love John/Chas stuff SO MUCH and I was proud of myself for getting it done. and so it goes is also so soft & lovely though, and the comments I got for it were some of my very favorite. 

Hardest Fic: Finishing a strong enough foundation was a fucking challenge, especially since I knew that a 21k gen fic full of OCs was never going to be a fandom classic & I personally thrive on attention. 

Do You Plan to Take Prompts in 2017? I mean I’m personally always taking prompts, but people should be aware that I am an incredibly slow writer unless I’m in PRECISELY the right mood and even then, it can be tricky. So yeah I could agree to take a prompt but not finish it for a year. Or it could be done the next day. It always varies, with me. 

What was the best thing about 2016? Well, I passed the bar, so that was pretty nice. Fandom wise...I guess I found my own little community to work within, of people who don’t drive me bananas. I mean the rest of it still exists, but. At least I’ve got my own little bubble to vent with sometimes.

What was the worst thing about 2016? The whole of it. I stopped being able to read Finn/Poe fic and I’m not super eager to start it again, which is disappointing, because I do like to keep up with fandom trends, at the very least -- I like to know what there’s already too much of, so I don’t give people more of the same that no one’s going to want to bother with, etc. 

Any last thoughts for 2016? Obviously I could’ve done more, writing wise, but I’m genuinely surprised at how much I actually did do, so here’s hoping I keep up with that trend. Of course, I was unemployed for a majority of 2016, so that probably helped my fic writing productivity somewhat -- hopefully that won’t be the case in 2017.

I’ve been having a bit of a writer’s block recently, but idk if it’s because I’m annoyed with fandom currently, or just worried about my unemployment, or at my parents’ house and always busy, or what. But I’m hoping my inspiration will come back soon, maybe even with the return of Constantine (conditionally. maybe. in a strange format & weird conditions) or the next Star Wars preview or something.

Goals for 2017

I have an informal list of things I jotted down on like the first or the second day of the year, so hopefully I’ll be able to get through at least a few of those

Generally speaking I want to keep to a writing schedule -- in November I tried to do like 30 minutes/500 words a day and 100% didn’t stick to it, but by tracking how many I did manage to write and on what days I wrote, I got the Travelogue done and finished culpability as well. So a substantial amount of work on two fics, both of which got posted eventually, is a good start. Hopefully once I have a job and a routine down, it’ll be easier to set a time and stick to it; the problem then will be both creativity and exhaustion. 

Having confidence in my writing abilities is always a challenge and it’s never come easy for me, plus I’m such a slow writer, so feedback, which is the one thing that really genuinely helps me, is hard to come by. But I do feel more confidence about my strengths and abilities than I have in the past, so I’m hoping to at least be able to hold on to that. 

I want to stop feeling guilty for what I write or what I want to write -- I like to be organized and I like to have an order of things to work on (”you need to finish this thing first before you can work on the other”) but I don’t know if that actually ends up motivating me. So considering some of the other things fandom gets up to, none of the things I’d rather be working on sometimes are like -- horrible.