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sitepathos · 13 days ago

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Wow, I loved chapter 11! Would be funny if batfam discovered a cure for cancer trying to figure out how to deal with the mold, was just a thought that stuck in my head when I read the description 'benign tumor'. Would also be a good way for batfam to start dealing with the PR nightmare this is turning into. Has Bruce been trying to fuck over Lex? Also was wondering if maybe Gould made any bonds in the four years back home? Is there any jealousy rising in batfam from a brotherly or fatherly bond they discover, or has he mostly been keeping to himself? Either way, I'm excited to see what's coming up with this next confrontation, hope the inspiration narwhal visits you!

Yeah, I can see them using their discoveries to change public opinion about them.

Now, they know the Megamycete is similar to a benign cancer that eradicates native cells and replaces them with unstable mold versions, but since they only have the one sample of your blood (and it’s kinda lost all viability due to the batter of tests its been subjected to), they’re still far from discovering any usable weapon to attack the Megamycete at the cellular level.

While their tests have yielded nothing to combat the mold, their failures have led to the discovery of a treatment that’s highly effective against actual cancers, tumors, and viral infections. Bruce had the data forwarded to Wayne Pharmaceuticals to begin development of new medicines based off their work, leading to several new drugs being developed that promise to either treat several incurable diseases and illnesses or eliminate them altogether.

It definitely makes people see Bruce Wayne more favorable, but not enough to reverse all the bad publicity done to his company. He’s also made several attempts to get back at Lex for his actions at the gala, both as CEO of Wayne Enterprises by showing him up in business and as Batman by exposing his less-than-legal activities.

He’s actually very grateful to you (despite the fact you’re infected by some sentient mushroom) since it’s helped complete many projects the pharmaceutical division has been working on for years, which will help countless people in the long run.

But make no mistake, he fully intends to find a way to purge the Megamycete from your body. He says it’s because it’s dangerous and that it’s making you act out, but it’s because it gives you the power to oppose him and fight back when he tries to bring you back to Gotham. Let’s be honest, Bruce Wayne is a massive control freak and is used to being the one in total control of every situation and the smartest person in the room and he can’t stand it when he doesn’t have something under control.

Thanks to the Megamycete, you’re not only stronger than him, but smarter, too.

This is a huge no-no and he’ll stop at nothing to correct the situation, under the guise of “helping” you and “bring you back home.”

As for the second part of your ask, I’ve had several people ask about the reader dating/marrying people and making friends; I’ve even made a post about Eveline from Resident Evil 7 being your adoptive daughter, but I don’t have any plans on making a canon family and friends for the reader in the series.

Believe me, you want a family and friends. You’d love to find a man who will give you the love you were denied for so long and maybe even adopt a child (although several people asking about kids has made me think you’d be capable of carrying biological children since you can alter your body due to the Megamycete), but after all that you endured at Wayne Manor, you think you have too much emotional baggage to properly care for a family (not to mention the whole Megamycete situation) and you’re just subject your potential family and friends to the same treatment you were given for most of your life.

Right now, you’re working on yourself. You moved back to Goodsprings immediately after graduating and turned your childhood home into a home you’re really proud of and now with the ulcers of Salvage Rights, you’re seeing a small fortune building before your eyes (of course, you still have most of the money you got from Lex for seeking WE secrets).

Of course, Bruce and his children had to show up out of nowhere and reset all the progress you made in the last four years and making people stare at you every time you walk into a room and whisper about you when they think you can’t hear them.

So, any plans you had on making a family and finding friends are on hold for right now. You just have to take care for your little bat problem.

But, let’s say you did have a family and friends. That not long after you moved to Goodsprings, you made a few friends either in town or in the surrounding area, which eventually lead to you finding a boyfriend and after two years of dating, you got married (Alfred attended, he wouldn’t miss it for the world).

Now, he didn’t tell them about the wedding at the time, but after the four year mark of you leaving Gotham, he reminded them that you exist and dropped the bombshell that you’re married.

This leads to every one of them going berserk.

You’re married?! And they weren’t invited to the wedding?!

They immediately dislike your husband, Bruce especially since he has the insane belief that as your father, any man should ask for his blessing to date/marry you (of course he’d turn down any request before it even leaves the man’s mouth).

“There’s no man in this world that’s good enough for you, Y/N. Besides, you only need me and your brothers.”

Damian is in the same boat as he believes very few are worthy enough of joining the Wayne legacy.

“Our bloodline is a sacred one, brother, and we must be selective of who is a part of it. If you insist on finding a mate, I’m sure Father would be capable of finding one for you. But you needn’t worry over that, I’m more than capable of continuing the family in his stead.”

Dick would lose his shit if he hears that you have a husband.

“He just proposes to you? Without asking to meet your family? That’s very suspicious, baby bird! He clearly wants to take you away from us!”

Jason would be silent during the entire ordeal, but he’d stand there, glaring at you poor husband and showing off the gun he has on his hip, filled with real bullets.

Tim’s immediately researching the shit out of this guy, going back to his birth and will use anything and everything he finds to convince you that he’s unfit for you and you should divorce him.

“He got a speeding ticket when he was 16, Y/N! He clearly lives on the edge and doesn’t care about respecting the law! …Why are you staring at me like that for?”

Steph is actually kinda proud of you for causing this kind of chaos in the family. She’s always pulling stunts that cause Bruce’s hair to turn grey and loves messing with everyone, but what you’ve done is nothing short of astounding in her eyes. Of course, she’s just as opposed to the marriage as the others and wants you to divorce your husband and move back home at once.

“Y/N, if you wanted to drive Bruce into an early grave, you could’ve just done what I did and wreck the Batmobile. Hey, we can do that when we get back home!”

Cass actually understands the desire to find love and create a family; thanks to Bruce, she knows what a family is (a lesson you were never taught) and wishes she could find someone to spend her life with. But thanks to her upbringing and her vigilante lifestyle, she knows that’s a pipe dream. Besides, Bruce and her siblings are more than enough.

However, that doesn’t mean she supports the marriage; in fact, she opposes it and believes you must divorce your husband and come home right away. People can’t be trusted and the world is too dangerous. You need to come home where they can protect you.

And god help you if you say your new friends are more like your siblings than them.

As expected, Damian doesn’t take the news well and accuses them of trying to take his place as your true brother (this delusional bastard really believes that after everything, the two of you can really be brothers).

But I think Dick would take the news worse than him; he takes his role as the elder brother of the Wayne children seriously and he doesn’t like the thought of you seeing someone other than him as your big brother. He’d probably cry and beg you to take it back, say you were just lying to hurt him, anything! Just say you don’t see anyone as a big brother!

Lastly, if you have any children, be it through adoption or biological, they immediately stake a claim on them and try to bring them into the family.

That just leaves you, fighting these delusional freaks tooth and nail to keep your friends and family safe. If your husband is a meta, he’ll try to join in, but you insist on dealing with them yourself. You know they’ll use any dirty trick they can find against your husband and you’d rather not put him in any more danger than you have already.

Plus, if anyone has the right to kill them, it’s you. After all they put you through, you’re determined to be the one that finally puts an end to the Bats.

#asks #from gold to mold

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avelera · 9 months ago

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Avelera's Dreamling Fic Status Update:

Keeping Sanctuary (subscribe for updates here) - Giving Sanctuary Sequel follows Dream and Hob from the events of the altered meeting in 1689 up to the modern era. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1689 meeting?) Current word count: ~7,000 words across several chapters. Realistic progress update: 1/10 complete total, Ch. 1 is about 1/5 complete.

(The rest are below the cut!)

Come live with me and be my love - Dream and Hob fall in love during the Regency Era when Dream loses a bet to Desire. Shenanigans ensue. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1789 meeting?) Ch. 16 is at 2,500 words, probably about 1/3 done. Current plan is to wrap up Part 1 in the next few chapters then create a part 2 which finishes out their "1 year of marriage" on a month by month basis instead of following them day to day like Part 1 done. Probably won't be a separate fic though, just a change of format.

This Rough Magic - My take on "Hob rescues Dream from Burgess" with a twist that Hob ends up on Burgess's radar himself when he picked up some occult magic skills in the hopes of contacting Dream after 1889 and apologizing. Now he has to pretend to be friends with Burgess in order to get them both out of there, because Burgess thinks Hob can help force Dream to give him immortality. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1889 meeting?) Ch. 9 is about 800 words in. Story is still very much in progress I just have a lot of WIPs, as you can see.

Joke's On You (I'm Into That) - The 1589 meeting goes very different when Hob proposes to Dream, who is so offended that he just can't let the matter go. A very angry, very horny competition kicks off between them. (Aka, what if they hooked up in 1589 when they were both at their absolute worst as people?) I have literally 40,000 words written for the rest of this fic. The problem is, there's big gaps in that first draft I have to fill in and scenes that need to be added. This might be my favorite WIP but it's also the hardest to write with all the smut scenes so it'll arrive whenever I can manage, I'm afraid.

Banana Daiquiris Ch. 2 - Comic-canon compliant (mostly) - Dream fakes his death to go on a vacation with Hob and Destruction. They end up in Tahiti. Destruction plays matchmaker. Hob doesn't know whether to thank Destruction or strangle him. Current word count 6,000 words. I've been playing around with adding on to this fic for ages. One of these days, I'll pull it all together.

Great Triumphs and Tragedies - aka, "Dream Accidentally Cursed Hob with a Normal Life" Fic - Dream learns that from 1689 on, Hob's life has been safe. Too safe. Improbably safe. Nothing bad or extraordinary or even terribly special has happened to him since Dream began to consider Hob his friend. He knows this because during his imprisonment, Hob's life became exciting again and suddenly went back to normal the day Dream was freed. Hob is not convinced that Dream is the reason for this, Dream disagrees. They talk about it. And fight about it. And some things that they've probably needed to talk about for a long time finally get said. (aka, sometimes the author just needs to write their weird headcanon into a 20,000 word fic that's almost entirely dialogue). Current word count: 19,000 words and about 80-90% finished, 3 of 4 chapters written. I'm hoping that posting what I've got will help push me through the final stretch. Real life interrupted for a bit though.

Unraveling Centuries, aka the Hob Amesia Fic - Dream and Hob are dating officially now in the 21st century when Hob gets hit with what seems to be a memory loss curse, shaving off 100 years of his life each day until Dream finds a cure. This effectively grants Dream a walk down memory lane as he is reacquainted with the Hob of each era and, in the process, learns how much longer Hob cared for him than Dream ever realized. Current word count: 40,000 words. Currently writing 1489 (1889-1589 are done) and re-writing the opening. First chapter is posted!

And for fics that haven't been posted anywhere yet (you can subscribe on my Ao3 author page for alerts about them):

"Fairy God Marlowe" - 1589 fixit fic where Hob and Kit Marlowe strike up a conversation while Dream and Shaxberd are talking. Hob and Marlowe talk about plays, and faith, and salvation, and queer love, and what it means to live forever. Hob gets a second chance at a first impression. Current word count: ~5,000 words. Sadly, it's all dialogue in script format. I'd need to convert it into prose to publish which would be a slog. So it's a bit shelved until I find the energy to do so. No, I will not post it in script format, I'm allergic to the thought.

I've got a few other concepts kicking around, but these are the ones that actually have (*does a quick calculation*) over 100,000 words written that I haven't had the chance to post yet?? And it's driving me insane????

Anyway, I should probably pin this post for those curious lol. Feel free to ask me any follow-up questions, I love talking about WIPs even as they ruin my life!

#dreamling #maggie's writing progress #dreamling fic update #1689 fic #1589 fic #arranged marriage au dreamling

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kahvilahuhut · 2 months ago

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🔍 cynosure status update

i mean. it's also periphery update too though. teehee. feel free to also check out the drawing here!

🤍 New to the story? Check out the (current) wip intros: Cynosure / Periphery

omg it's been a while, hasn't it? haha. i must admit i might have gotten A Bit too deep into some university assignments (+ my thesis). I do sometimes talk about the story on my main, too, but it's nothing that important for the story itself, mostly just some fun facts about the characters, which means that most of the development I've done is in my brain. Or is nonexistent or something. ANYWAY! Here's a status update to tell what has been happening lately! Might actually make this into something I post every now and then.

In this status update I'm going to talk a little about how it's going with the story, overall thoughts, plot/character changes and some things you can expect during next few weeks (hopefully). I'll put it all under the cut to keep this short on the dashboard 🥰

Like always, if you have any questions about the story, feel free to send an ask - I'll always be happy to answer 🤍

overall thoughts

Right now one of my top thoughts is honestly debating whether i want to, like, actually write this somewhere as a nove, or whether I should do it as a graphic novel or something. That said, if I do go with the latter, you can still expect writing bc I like to write things out to plan them. Or vise versa make some kind of sketches for writing. My brain works in a weird way, I know lol

I have been doing some worldbuilding (specifically for the story AND something for the overall story world that I have). Let me know if you'd love to hear some things I have thought about!

I've also been doing some research about *checks notes* Boston, MA. Because that's where most of the story happens :^) Though it happens in 2200's so I still have lots of room to change things around.

Definitely thinking about adding more dark/horror stuff in the world as a whole bc there's been, like, a climate crisis. AND people do interplanetary traveling. Stuff like that ought to lead to some fucked up stuff. Especially when there's megacorporations involved. Cynosure wise there's going to be something, especially in Periphery, happening to one of the main characters. 👀

plot/character updates

(that have happened lately, at least)

One of the pov characters kind of got a name update! Tobias's first name has been changed to Ripley, and it's what most characters will probably referring to it as. That said, some characters (+ itself) will refer to it as Tobias bc that's its preferred name that's somethings its friends and wife call it

Another pov character (Samuel) got an interesting change of backstory, some tweaks in personality, and its plot-revelant actions have changed a little. Sammy's changes has thus made some already existing things I've posted on here non-canon.

Slowly finally putting together what I mah want to have in Klara's chapters and it's sooooo exciting.

Polished some things about the plots, especially the different parts of the acts <3

Got more thoughts about the project itself (or, well, what it should have). That also means I need to look more into pharma research or something. Very interesting...

Overall, lots to think about and lots to research about.

things to expect in next few weeks

(that is, if I won't drown in university assignments or something)

I've had some ideas for little stories that would be happening before the story, to show more information about the characters and the story itself (like what happened in the original project). Or maybe just some fun parts of characters' backstories. So I may post something if I manage to write it!

Some more character introductions + pov character post. Might make a "tag yourself" meme. Or a powerpoint wip intro

Something else, maybe? If you have an idea, let me know!

taglist (interact with this post if you want to be added or removed!)

@ecofear @fashionablyfyrdraaca @shadowfells @volkihar

@antoncrane @kk7-rbs @void-botanist @the-inkwell-variable @artbyeloquent

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #oc writing #🔍 cynosure #🔦 periphery #writing community #my writing

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allastoredeer · 11 months ago

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I read the new chapter of Holy Suffering as soon as it came out and I love the way u write Lucifer. For the past few days I have been reading Radio apple fanfic and I hate how lucifer is portrayed in most of them, shy , innocent with Alastor after the fight, and kinda out of character for the both of them, cause they suddenly like each other, and I don’t see it in them. They like to piss each other off, that’s the whole ship point.

Ur Lucifer is so sassy, Hits all the Good Characterization checks in my brain, he’s such a delight to read, same for Alastor. U had me going speechless most of the time Alastor spoke, cause I honestly didn’t know what he was gonna say next. Writing Alastor it’s probably hard, cause he is misterious and always hides his emotions but You totally nailed it. Right now he is probably angry at Lucifer cause he ratted him out lol

Al be like the audacity of this man after he forced him to do this.🙄

Anywhizzle I just wanted to ask, for the overload meeting, is Charlie gonna send Lucifer with Alastor? Maybe as a snake or something, to make sure is he okay. Cause she really sounded mortified that she didn’t notice that Alastor was suffering and man Al definitely didn’t like that, but it’s not like he can say no to Charlie so

A nd is there like a schedule for next updates? I am really invested in this story and I honestly can’t wait to read more of it.

Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Hahah Lucifer's got bite to him, for sure. He doesn't come off as the shy type to me. Awkward as hell, certainly. In the throes of depression, absolutely. And he cares about Charlie's opinion of him to a fault. But when it comes to someone throwing their weight around--or, more accurately, getting involved with Charlie (cough Alastor helping Charlie with the hotel, couch Adam fighting/hurting Charlie cough) he isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Alastor is hard to write ಥ_ಥ I love him so much, but sometimes, I want to cut open his head and properly study his brain because f;knslnjsbj out of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to pin down, in terms of both dialogue and actions. He has such a way of talking, and such a distinct voice (his radio filter) that it's simultaneously easy to imagine his voice, but hard to put it to dialogue. So, I really appreciate hearing that I nailed it (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Seriously, it's so appreciated to hear.

Nah, Alastor is going to be going to that one alone :3 It's going to be set in his POV, so we'll get some insight in his thoughts on the whole thing, and how he's handling his current affliction. I'm both excited to and nervous to get into it, because writing him in someone else's POV is hard, so writing him in his OWN POV is a little intimidating, but I'm mostly excited. I have a lot of thoughts for this series, and it's gonna be fun to explore them.

As for a schedule, I used to try to keep myself to one, and I've found that I have both a love/hate relationship with it. One the one hand, keeping a writing schedule is nice because it gives me a clear view of what I want to work on and an goal date to get it done, which is very nice for my ADHD brain.

BUT, on the other hand, when I start putting that pressure on myself to get it down, and I fail to actually reach that goal, it hits me pretty hard and it can take away my motivation and joy in writing the fic. It starts to feel more like a chore than a fun hobby I can do in my downtime.

Thankfully, I am DEEP in Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation, and the amazing feedback I've gotten from my fic's is certainly fueling my motivation. So thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It's seriously so helpful and I cherish ever single one of them.

If I had to give an estimate for when the next installment of the series will drop, I'd say either at the end of this week, or the beginning/middle of next week. I have an unrelated AppleRadio one-shot I want to bust out before I work on the next installment, and that one I'm going to try and post by Thursday or Friday.

To quote out favorite Radio Demon,

~Stay Tuned

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dangerous-disposition · 2 years ago

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i could be honest, i could be human [Steddie WIP snippet]

THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE

Read it on my writing blog @gerrystamour (see pinned post) or on AO3

Here is a snippet of a fic I'm working on that is kind of a "5 times Eddie asks Steve who hurt him + 1 time he actually does something about it" and takes place over the course of the show and into post-S4 territory. When it's done it'll be 6 chapters and will be rated E. Mostly I need eyes that aren't mine to see it.

Steve Harrington did not feel sorry for himself.

Sorry? Absolutely. For himself? No.

He felt sorry for how he treated Nancy, for what he said to Jonathan, how he let Tommy make a mess of the Hawk’s sign. But not for himself, even if he couldn’t blink without wincing and something smarted when he moved his jaw. Even if his knuckles ached and a molar was wiggling a bit too much for his comfort. The way Steve figured it, all together that was roughly only half of what he deserved.

Getting the shit beat out of him for being an idiot wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to him, though the low-grade agony in his face was.

With a heavy sigh, Steve dipped the rag into the bucket of pink, soapy water and returned to scrubbing the red spray paint off the Hawk’s sign. It was slow-going, and the sun was setting, but he had just a bit of the last letter to clean, and then he would be done. He would be free to go home and figure out his next move.

He didn’t have any more friends, what with his fight with Tommy and Carol, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore. Not after his stunning display of class and conflict resolution.

“Well, well, well,” came a sarcastic, yet excited voice from below. “If it isn’t the King of Hawkins High himself, Steve Harrington.”

Steve groaned, the title bringing a sour taste to his mouth. Some king he supposedly was. He didn’t even recognize the voice, but that didn’t say much; Steve probably wouldn’t recognize the voices of most of the kids he went to school with because he was exactly that sort of asshole.

“Didn’t know you could actually do honest work,” the person continued, and the comment stung a bit, even if it was a fair assumption. “Though is it honest work if you made the mess in the first place?”

“Look man, I get it—” Steve started as he looked down, deliberately angling his face to hide the bruising, and abruptly froze.

Beaming gleefully up at Steve was the Freak. Something-Munson. His first name was escaping Steve, and not for any reason that was good or defensible.

Steve knew him by appearance and reputation alone, and he was pretty sure he could count the facts he knew about him on one hand. He dressed weird, had long hair, listened to shitty music, had an even shittier van, and dealt drugs. He had seen Tommy meet with him before they went to parties enough times to know at least that much. In the end, Steve had almost exclusively only heard him referred to as either the Freak or simply Munson.

“You were saying, Harrington?” Munson urged; his grin was broad but mean.

“What do you want, Munson?” Steve asked instead, returning to his chore.

“Heard from a little birdy that you were reduced to janitorial work. Obviously, I had to see that for myself before I would believe it,” he replied easily, and Steve scoffed.

“You came all the way out here just to watch me clean a sign? I’m honoured,” Steve muttered darkly.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was already in the neighbourhood,” Munson said, and Steve heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter being flicked. When Steve glanced back down, Munson was leaning against the light post and taking a long drag from a cigarette.

“C’mon, man,” Steve practically whined as he scrubbed the last of the graffiti off the sign. He was done his chore and he really didn’t want to deal with Munson’s smug face when he climbed down and revealed his bruised face. “I know I’ve been a douchebag—”

“Been? You’ve been a douchebag? As in past-tense?” Munson asked with a loud, bitter laugh. Steve could hear the eyeroll in Munson’s voice when he added, “I don’t think you get to decide when you aren’t a douchebag anymore, Harrington.”

Steve was at a loss with that, wracking his brain for a single time he was ever rude or mean to Munson. The thing was, Steve was never deliberately mean to people, his fight earlier with Jonathan notwithstanding; he just didn’t care, or tried to seem like he didn’t, as if he was above caring. For fuck’s sake, Steve couldn’t even remember Munson’s first name.

Tommy and Carol were the mean ones, and he did nothing try to stop them. How many times, unbeknown to Steve, had Tommy harassed Munson and his friends? Or how many times had Steve just tuned it out?

“Fine! I know I am a douchebag, but don’t you think this is kinda childish?” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over the top of the ladder and dropping his forehead onto them.

“Oh, it definitely is,” Munson agreed happily, and Steve shouted when the whole ladder shook. Munson had kicked it lightly, just enough to rock it but not so much that it actually fell over. “Gonna stay up there forever, Harrington?”

“Not forever,” Steve replied, shrugging. “Just until you get bored and leave.”

“Then you’ll be up there forever,” Munson sing-songed. “C’mon, Harrington. I don’t bite, promise.”

Steve felt his face heat, his chest and stomach fluttering with an emotion he couldn’t place immediately. Shame? Humiliation? He stopped inspecting those thoughts too closely and climbed down.

When Steve was back on solid ground, he turned to face Munson and stood up straight. He was taller than Steve by just a bit, but it was enough that he had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Oh, Harrington,” Munson laughed—no, practically crooned, his eyes wide and bright as he reached up to touch the bruising. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone downright giddy.

READ THE COMPLETED FIC ON AO3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2: Taste

Javier Peña x f!reader / (4,750)

Summary: You flirt with the man next door, and your legs end up around his shoulders. Bar fights, smut, and Javier Peña; what else does a chapter need?

Notes: Helllo, readers! I am so excited to be able to post Chapter 2 so soon. I'm having so much fun writing my first series! You finally get a taste ( hehe ) of the smut that will increasingly show up throughout the series. I encourage you to message me or comment below on what you did/did not like in this new chapter. I'm still figuring out this whole fac fiction writing process, so I'd appreciate any advice you could give me. And as always, my inbox is open to any requests for what you want to see in the upcoming chapters.

Disclaimer: This series is for adults only! (18+)

Warnings: fight scene and explicit sexual material

Without breaking eye contact with Javier in the window across you, you lift your hand to your chest and hook a finger under the strap of your tank top. You can feel the nerves swirling in your stomach, but before you talk yourself out of it, you slip your strap off your shoulder. Then, you reach across and do the same to the other.

Across the way, Javier’s eyes are pinned on you, unmoving. As you reach down with both hands and begin to lift your tank top over your head, you see his breath catch. Your shirt lifts overhead, exposing your black lace bra and the planes of your abdomen. You drop the shirt on the floor and wait for his reaction.

What you want to see is desire in his eyes, but he still stands there frozen with a hard-to-read expression on his face. Desperate for him to look at you like he did in the bar earlier tonight, you decide to keep going.

You hook your thumbs in your skirt's waistband to slowly shimmy it down your legs and step out. You stand back up with your body mostly exposed now, save for your bra and matching black lacey underwear.

You look back across the street, and to your delight, you see a change in his expression. Javier’s eyes travel down and back up your body with his brows knit together, and he takes a heaving breath that expands his broad chest, then exhales. From this distance, it's hard to be sure, but you think you see a world slip out between his lips as his fists bunch at his side.

The thought of him getting turned on from watching you brings heat to your skin. You feel your face flush and a vague ache between your legs.

Admittedly, you didn’t think very far ahead before you began whatever the hell kind of show you started putting on for the man next door. You could stop. You could end it right now before things go further and close the blinds. Or you could keep going to see if you can make Javier unravel at the sight of you.

Having aroused yourself just as much as you hoped to have done to Javier, you decide to keep going. The unabashed confidence you started with is starting to wane, however. Either because the buzz of the alcohol is beginning to fade or because this is the boldest thing you’ve ever done. You turn your back to the window, but you don’t leave. Instead, you reach around and undo the clasps of your bra and let it fall to the floor.

After a steeling breath, you turn around to face the window again, but your heart sinks when you notice Javier is no longer there. Across the street, his blinds are closed, and his lights are off, leaving you alone again.

Did you get the wrong idea? Was he not interested, and you just made a fool of yourself? Had you made him uncomfortable with what you'd just done? A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you realize things have gone terribly wrong. You reach up to snap the blinds closed and stand there momentarily.

You can't take back what you’ve done but can go to sleep and wake up tomorrow pretending like tonight never happened. You can avoid Javier like the plague and never open those blinds again. You think this to yourself as you turn out the lights and get into bed for the night.

Tossing and turning, you replay the night in your head to figure out where the hell things went wrong.

You should have known a man like that wasn’t interested in a girl 20 years younger. Yet, you could have sworn you sensed something between the two of you at the bar. It must have been your own attraction to him clouding your judgment.

You can’t believe his effect on you in those brief moments together. The sweep of his dark hair and the smell of whiskey on his breath. The velvet gruff of his voice and the piercing gaze of his soft and fierce brown eyes. Still thinking of Javier, eventually, you drift off to sleep.

Waking up the morning after was not pleasant, not at all. You aren’t hungover, but something far, far worse. The electricity of the night before was gone entirely, and you have a pit in your stomach thinking about what you did.

You feel so stupid for thinking that you could pull off something like that. You aren’t sure where the confidence came from facing a man like that. Yeah, you were tipsy, but it's hard for you to break out of your shell even then. Whatever it was, it's gone now. Back to your old self, shy and demure. Unsure of yourself and confused.

You let out a breath and kick those thoughts out of your head. Ready to move past the events of last night, you roll out of bed and pad across the bedroom into your bathroom. You turn on the shower and step into the hot water, letting it wash away your troubles. Even after washing your hair and scrubbing your body, you stand there until the bite of the warm water fades and starts to cool. Eventually, you turn the water off and step out to wrap a towel around yourself.

Feeling refreshed, you return to your bedroom to prepare for the day. Avoiding looking at the window and avoiding thinking about the man in the bedroom past it, you go to your closet to select an outfit for the day. You settle on an oversized grey shirt, then grab a pair of underwear from your dresser to step into.

You spend the day picking up around the apartment with some reality TV show playing in the background. The light from the floor-to-ceiling window across from you brightens the space. Three stories below, you can see the hustle and bustle of the streets of Austin. By evening, your belongings are as clean and organized as they will get, so you settle on the couch to read your book.

Usually, romance stories are your perfect escape, but today, not so much. You can’t get through the scenes without picturing Javier's large, rough hands sliding up your legs or the warm touch of his lips grazing yours. You can't get him out of your head. As the protagonist melts under her lover's touch, you do the same under the phantom hands of Javier.

You snap the book shut and place it on the coffee table before the couch. You need to stop fantasizing about this man you barely know. A man who is clearly not interested and who you embarrassed yourself in front of. You let out a huff of frustration and pick up your phone.

The screen says 6 p.m., so you order dinner, not feeling like going out after the night you had. Your Chinese takeout is left at your apartment door an hour later, and you bring it inside. You settle on the couch to eat and watch one of your favorite movies, Bridget Jonne’s Diary.

Eventually, the movie ends, dinner is finished, and you check the time. It's only 9:30. It’s 9:30 on a Saturday night, and you are in pajamas, stuffing your face, watching romcoms alone. You don’t want this to be how you spend your first weekend in your new city. You were so excited to move to downtown Austin and experience all it offers.

That’s it, you decide. You won't be a prisoner in your own home. You're going out and don’t care if you run into a particularly broody, gold-skinned, dark-haired man. You get off the couch and march into your bathroom, determined to go full glam for your night out like you did in college.

Two hours later, your hair falls in long curls down your back, and you look in the mirror to assess your work. Your eyes look big and bright thanks to the mascara and thin line of eyeliner. Your cheeks are rosy, and your skin flawless, with some freckles peeking through the light layer of foundation you smoothed on. You add a sheer gloss to your lips and determine you are done.

Having changed out of your oversized t-shirt from earlier, you are now wearing your favorite little black dress. It’s a satin, lace trim mini dress with a small slit on the upper thigh. The lace lining of the V-neck bust perfectly frames your chest, making it look full and perky. The satin fabric flows down your body in a way that accentuates your waist but still flows freely enough to be comfortable and falls at your upper thigh.

You stash your lip gloss, phone, and wallet into a small black handbag, slip into some short, strappy black heels, and then head out your door. You exit the apartment building and pause as you step onto the street. Your eyes dart around, searching for a familiar figure, but you sigh in relief when you see that the coast is clear.

An hour later, you find yourself dancing with a group of girls you became best friends with in the bar bathroom. Eventually, after several drinks and dancing until your feet hurt, you hug the girls goodbye and decide to seek out a dive bar for a more chill environment.

You walk down the street until you find an old-looking bar with a neon sign buzzing above the door. There isn’t a line of drunk young patrons waiting to enter like at the popular places you walked by earlier, so you decide this is where you'll end the night.

You walk into the unglamorous bar featuring dim lighting, shabby décor, and neon beer signs with the tang of cigarette smoke in the air. Definitely not your usual place, but you won't stay for long. There is a hum of steady chatter throughout the bar. Most of the patrons are men playing pool or darts. It's definitely a place for locals; everyone is dressed in jeans and T-shirts, so you stick out like a sore thumb.

You sit at the bar in the back and face the wall of assorted liquor bottles. You order a cranberry vodka from the seedy old bartender. He eyes you suspiciously but says nothing about you being out of place here. A couple sips into your drink, a group of younger patrons crowd the bar and take up the stools next to you.

It’s three guys, older than you but not by much. You noticed them when you walked in; their heads had turned, and you felt their eyes on you as you walked to the bar. The one on the stool to your right is wearing old, faded jeans, dirty boots, and some old band t-shirt. He is tall and stocky with light brown hair that falls to his shoulders underneath a baseball hat. The two on the stools to your left are shorter, nearly your height, have dark hair and seem like brothers.

The tall guy to your right introduces himself and his friends. “Hey, pretty thing, what are you doing at our bar?” he slurs your way.

“Your bar?” you ask and shrink back when he leans in to talk to you.

“My name is Trent, and those are my buddies, Ryan and Alex,” he says, motioning to the two sitting on your left. “We’ve never seen you here before.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable now at their closeness, you stiffen and respond, “I’ve never been here before, but I'm just finishing my drink and going home.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, why don’t you stay a while?” he says, leaning forward to put a hand on your knee. “We’ll keep you company.”

“No, I’m pretty tired, and my friends are waiting for me. I should probably head out now.” You say and stand to rid yourself of his hand on your leg.

Before you can leave your seat, Ryan's hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back down. “I said you should stay,” he says coldly, staring at you with glaring intent behind his eyes.

At that moment, you feel a breath on your neck from one of the guys to your left. You can smell the reek of alcohol on his breath when he says in your ear, “Or we could go home with you if you'd like.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and lets out a bone-chilling laugh.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you realize your predicament. Frozen in fear, the voice in your head is begging you to devise a way to get rid of these guys and go home. Before you can mutter another excuse and try to stand up again, you hear a voice behind you.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” the familiar voice rasps. You recognize it immediately.

The guy to your left heeds the warning, removing his hand from your shoulder and backing away. Your eyes dart to Trent as he tightens his grip on your wrist and sneers at Javier. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I said get your fucking hands off of her,” Javier repeats a bit louder and angrier as he steps forward.

Trent drops your wrist and stands to his full height, equal to Javiers's. You stand and turn to walk to Javier, but Trent extends his arm to block your path.

Before you can react, Javier grinds his teeth, throws a bunch directly at Trent's jaw, and connects hard. Trent stumbles over, and Javier kicks him to the ground before he can catch his balance.

Ryan stands with a liquor bottle in his hand and swings it toward Javier's head. Javier evades the blow and grabs the assailant's arm, twisting it to release a crack and yelp of pain from the man. Ryan drops the liquor bottle to the floor with a crash, and the amber-colored liquor bleeds across the floor. Holding his arm in pain, Ryan shrinks away from Javier and looks toward Alex.

Alex stands and begins to take a step toward Javier, but their eyes meet, and Javier growls out, “Take another step, and I'll break your fucking arm too.” Alex pauses, debating what to do. They stare each other down, but the look of cold, calm rage on Javier's face freezes Alex to his spot. Instead, he bends down to pick up a chunk of broken glass from the liquor bottle and turns toward you.

“This is all your fault, coming here dressed like a slut just to tease us.” He sneers at you and swipes in your direction with the shard of glass. As you brace yourself for impact, Javier throws his body between yours and the other man’s.

The broken glass cuts into his outstretched arm, leaving a 4-inch-long slice into his forearm. As blood trickles down his arm, you watch Javier throw a punch directly into the other man's stomach. Alex doubles over in pain, and when he does, Javier's knee raises in a blow to his chin, knocking the man back onto the floor.

You stand in terror at the scene that has unfolded before you. The rest of the bar had gone silent, all eyes on Javier and the three other men brawling. Before anyone else decides to step in, Javier puts his uninjured arm around you and leads you towards the exit.

Tears begin to sting your eyes the moment you are both out of the bar and around the corner to safety. You sniff as they roll down your face, and you look at the ground.

Javier stops walking and stands in front of you. “Woah, it's all right, darlin,” he says gently. “No one is going to hurt you; you’re safe now.”

When the tears don’t stop and you fail to respond, he reaches out with a finger and delicately lifts your chin to see your face. You look up through your lashes with more tears welling in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say in a choked-up voice, “I'm so sorry for tonight and last night. This is all my fault.”

His brown eyes soften as he looks down at you and answers, “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Your body hums in response to that word coming out of his mouth. “Those men are filth who can’t control themselves. I ought to go back in there and fucking make sure they learn.” He spits toward the old bar in a gruff voice.

“Thank you for getting me out of there. I'm sorry I ruined your night again,” you say shamefully.

His eyes dart back to you. “Ruined my night? Again? “What are you – “he pauses, understanding what you mean. “You didn’t ruin my night last night or tonight.” He says softly.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you say, blushing at the ground. “I guess I got the wrong Idea. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” he answers quickly, “I wasn’t uncomfortable, and you didn’t get the wrong idea.”

He breathes and runs a hand through his hair, “I did want you last night. Hell, I still want you now. But it’s not a good idea. I’m not a good idea.”

“Why?” you ask, looking at him again. “Why did you close the blinds last night, and why isn’t this a good idea?”

He takes a breath. “Because,” he says and growls, eyes ablaze, “If I had watched one more fucking second of you last night, I would have shown up at your door to rip the rest of your clothes off.”

You stare in stunned silence.

“And this isn’t a good idea,” he continues, “because I’m not good for you. I’ve done things you wouldn’t understand, and it changed me. I used to be good, but not anymore. I can't be what you need, what you deserve. You saw all that I am good for tonight in that bar.” He says sadly.

“I don’t believe that,” you finally say under your breath.

The conversation ends without much else being said. Like the night before, Javier walks you to your apartment building and goes to leave after asking if you are okay one last time. As he turns to walk away, you reach out and grab his hand. Turning over his arm, you stare at the cut, which has stopped bleeding by now.

“What about you, Javier? Are you okay?” you ask.

He turns to you and answers, “Yeah, it's nothing.”

“Will you at least let me clean and bandage it for you? I can even get the blood out of your shirt before it stains,” you say, gesturing to the drops of blood on his tan, short-sleeved button-up.

He stands there, debating whether to take you up on your offer.

“Please,” you say, “It will make me feel better to do something for you after what you did for me tonight.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, stepping toward you. “But if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, come on,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him inside before he can change his mind. “I’ll be quick.”

Once inside your apartment, you sit Javier on the couch. “I'll be right back,” you say as you kick off your heels and go to warm a washcloth to clean his cut. When you return to the couch, there is silence between you as you kneel before him, gently wiping the blood crusted on his arm.

You finish cleaning the cut and wrap a bit of gauze around it. Finished with the first task, you stand saying, “Take off your shirt,” and look down at him sitting on the couch.

A muscle feather in his jaw. “What?” he grounds out in a husky tone.

“The blood won't come out if we don’t treat that stain soon. Give me your shirt, and I’ll throw it in the wash.” You explain.

“Right,” he says. He stands up off the couch, close enough to touch. He unbuttons his shirt, exposing more of his smooth golden skin with each button undone. You can't help but stare at the lines of his broad chest and muscled arms as he shrugs out of the shirt and hands it over to you.

Without saying a word, you walk it over to the washing machine in the back, toss in some stain remover, set the wash to cold, and press start.

When you return to the living room, Javier is still standing, shirtless, in his tight dark wash jeans and boots. You can't help but rake your eyes up and down his body and gulp. He does the same, eyes washing over you in your short black dress, walking towards him.

You approach him, and he says, “I should get going now,” motioning to the door.

“Or you could stay,” you say, standing before him, looking up. “If you want me like you say you do, stay,” you breathe. Cheek’s reddening at the bold statement.

“You don’t know how badly I want you,” he growls. “How badly I've wanted you since I saw the look on your face reading that damn dirty book right in front of me,” motioning toward the book still lying on your coffee table.

“Then take me,” you whisper.

“Fucking and fighting, that's all I do.” He says, hands tightened into fists. “I can't give you anything else.”

“So, fuck me, Javier.”

The leash on his control snaps. His warm brown eyes turn dark, and he grabs you around the waist, pulling you in. Hungry, he meets you halfway for a kiss that only ignites the fire inside you both. You taste the whiskey on his tongue, and his soft lips crash into yours.

Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing fistfuls. He falls back onto the couch, bringing you gently with him, settling you over his lap. Your knees on either side of him are dug into the cushions. He pulls away for a moment, and you immediately miss the warmth of his lips on yours.

“Please,” you whimper, begging for more. You drop your hands from his hair and move to drag the straps of your dress off your shoulders, but he catches your wrists.

“Stop,” he says, “It's my turn to undress you,” he drawls out, words dripping with seduction.

He guides your hands behind your back with you still hovering over his lap. Gathering both of your small wrists in his large, rough hands, he instructs, “Don’t move these,” and holds them there.

You nod in understanding, and he takes that as his signal to begin. With his free hand, he hooks his index finger around the spaghetti strap on your shoulder and slowly drags it down. His finger grazes your arm the whole way down, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He does the same to the other side; when he does, the dress falls and pools around your waist.

You inhale a small breath as your nipples harden at the exposure.

“Is this what you wanted to show me last night, pretty girl?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from your chest. You can feel the bugle in his jeans beneath you growing. The outer layer of his jeans is now rubbing into your wet panties.

“Yes,” you breathe. You can't help but grind into him, aching for contact between your legs.

A deep, grumbling moan of pleasure rises from Javier's chest, and he licks his lips. “You want it bad, don’t you, baby?”

Again, you can only produce that one pitiful word: “Yes.”

He stands, gathering you in his arms and twisting, now placing you on the couch. “Lay back,” he instructs and drops to his knees as he spreads your legs open enough to position himself between them.

Laying back against the couch with your legs spread wide before him, you lift to help him drag your panties down and off. He holds them, inspecting them.

“Is all of this for me?” he asks, referring to the dampness.

Your cheeks heat, and your eyes drop to the floor in embarrassment. Now he knows exactly the effect he has on you. You’ve been wet for him the moment you laid eyes on him.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, dropping your panties to the floor. He runs his calloused, solid hands up your legs from your knees to your waist and tugs you closer to the edge of the couch. “More for me to taste.” He finishes with a devilish grin.

He hooks your ankles over his shoulder and leans into that spot between your legs, already slick with anticipation. His tongue unfolds and lightly drags up the center of your folds towards the bundle of nerves at the top.

You let out a whine of pleasure, hands gripping the fabric of the couch.

That sweet sound drives him over the edge, and he licks into you once again, hungrier and harder. You close your eyes and writhe in pleasure. He hooks his hands under you, cupping your ass to hold you still against his tongue.

You can feel the tension inside of you rising, burning throughout your body. At that moment, One of Javier's fingers replaces his tongue and slips inside of you. Even just one is enough to have you moaning.

He continues to pump that finger in and out while he uses his tongue to circle the apex between your thighs. You feel your breaking point coming, and between breaths, you gasp, “Javi- Javi, I'm about to cum.”

Instead of letting up, Javier crooks his finger inside you and finds that spot that has you reeling over the edge.

“I know, baby,” he says, looking up at you, affection in his eyes “cum for me, baby, come on.”

As the words leave his lips, you fall apart on his finger. Your muscles clench and unclench around him as he massages into you, letting you ride out every drop of pleasure.

“That's it, angel,” he croons, pulling his finger out of you, “you did so good for me.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you look down at him, kneeling between your legs. All you can do is watch as he slips that finger, covered in your slickness, into his mouth, licking it clean.

He stands, and you hear him walking to your bathroom to grab a towel. He returns and begins to wipe up the mess he made of you.

“What about you? I wanted you to feel good, too.” You say, sitting up and looking in his direction.

“Not yet, sweetheart. I don’t want to break you.” He says in that smooth voice you find yourself craving in every silence. “I enjoyed myself, don’t worry.” Those words reverberate through your body and almost have you aching for him again already.

With the tension expelled from your body and your muscles relaxed from the release you just had, sleep creeps into your mind. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy, and Javier can see it wash over you.

“Go finish cleaning up,” he says, nodding to the bathroom, and you're too sleepy to protest.

You start the shower and step into the warm water for the second time today. This time, though, you’re fast. You wash the makeup from your face and sweat from your limbs as quickly as possible while still being thorough. When you get out and wrap yourself in a towel, you stand still, listening for the sound of Javier inside your apartment. But you don’t hear a thing.

You crack the door and peek outside, confirming your suspicion that Javier is gone. He slipped out while you were in the shower, so he didn’t have to say goodbye. Your heart falls just a bit, even though it is what you should have expected.

Just sex, that was the understanding between you tonight and nothing more. He made that very clear.

Too tired to mull it over in your mind any longer, you turn out all the lights in your apartment and slip into bed. Just before you click off the lamp to the side of your bed to wash the room in darkness, you notice a tall glass of water sitting on the nightstand you don’t remember leaving there. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and you click off the light. Darkness washes over the room, and you fall asleep fast, thinking of Javier.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fic #narcos #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #reader x character #fanfic #fanfiction

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celeluwhenfics · 2 months ago

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hihi I don’t know if you’ve ever talked about this before and I missed it but here are a few things for you to rant more on pHORSEsuasion as there cannot be too much of it for us to delight.

How was the story and character of Rowena born? Like, if you could remember and retell, the moment you first realised to yourself that you would be writing her in the fashion of Austen? Was it a very long journey that slowly took shape, or an idea that hit you square on the head?

Is there a set time and location you have to write the fic out? Anything from real life that inspires you and you take inspiration from? I think I remember you loving horses (in a club?) and that sparked the love for Rohan? …or is it an anecdote of one of the many Rohan buddies on tumblr….😭

Is there a playlist, specifically, you’d have for the story?? A pinterest board perhaps? 👀 anything about pHORSEsuasion please

On a scale of 1-5 how much would you say the ideas and thoughts relating to the fic occupy your mind throughout the day?

thank you in advance if you ever get around to answering and talking more about this beautiful fic <333 i also read the short about “the creek game” which is utterly amazing.

don’t you worry overmuch about taking your time to work your best on the chapters! even in these intervals your nice story occupies my mind frequently just to think of Bréda

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask! It makes me happy and giddy that someone is still thinking of pHORSE (and dear Bréda! ❤️) even as chapter 2 is taking a long, long time to come out. I've been hard at work on it. It is coming SOON!

It's exactly as you say: the idea hit me square in the head. I hadn't interacted with LotR in a decade, didn't know AO3 or fandom communities existed. I watched the movies with my partner one weekend, and as I tried to fall asleep that Sunday night, the idea of Éomer as Captain Wentworth sprang all formed in my head. And when that horrible pun found me as well, I knew I was onto something. 😅 The next day I wrote the outline, and in its broad lines it hasn't changed since, it only got more refined and detailed as I reacquainted myself with canon!

I am a horse girl! But I don't ride anymore for various reasons. Not much of the story is related to my real life, although every natural landscape, historical tidbit or little everyday situation can inspire me. (Oh yeah and I almost forgot to mention, but last month I went to Bath to see the original setting of Persuasion for myself...) I mostly write at home on the weekends, but I also have written LOTS of thoughts and ideas on the Notes app on my phone, either on the bus, at work, on runs... I've also been known to stop in my tracks in a grocery aisle or step off my bike to note down an idea or a line of dialogue!

I always write in complete silence (and I don't have pinterest), but in a past life I studied musicology with a speciality in early music, therefore YES, there will be some very specific musical references, which I will share on this blog of course! I've done a post on the two songs mentioned in chapter 1. There won't be any music in chapters 2 and 3, as it's a very bleak time in the story and silence takes a lot of room, so to say. (But I have a Borodred one-shot WIP that I don't know how to wrap up, that is very musical, you might see it one day!)

*nervous laughter* I would say it varies between 2 and 5. It's been months, and every day it's somewhere in my mind. Which is not always convenient, because I have a PhD to do!!! And at some point since my brain wanted to think about it 12 hours a day no matter what, I lost a lot of sleep over it. I had to find a better balance, because sleep is important, and once again, I have a PhD to do, on a subject I'm very passionate about!!! But, yeah, if I could write all day every day and churn out chapter after chapter for my lovely readers, I would!

Thank you SO MUCH for your ask, I'm always super excited to talk about pHORSE! Even if there has been no recent update, the project is very much alive, I'm working tirelessly on it and thinking about it all the time. Don't hesitate if you have more questions! And stay tuned!!! 👀

#answered asks #pHORSE #writing process

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thegrimreaperisanerd · 1 year ago

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hi :) binge read your de fic that you have posted on ao3 last night and really enjoyed all of it! excited to see any updates. was wondering if you have any rec for other fic youve read and enjoyed-- i am not god's bravest soldier and do not enjoy trudging through tags and was wondering if you had read anything yourself that you really enjoyed lolol

Hey, thanks so much!!! Sorry it's taken a couple days to answer this, I'm poor as shit and have two jobs now wah... capitilism...

I'm working on the next 46' chapter, It's about 70% complete and I generally let it sit for an evening once it's done then re-read it the next day to catch the vast majority of mistakes (I edit everything myself) so I'd say expect that in the coming days.

I have some thoughts! I... Have never been asked for fic recs before so I'm gonna list a bunch in no particular order that I enjoyed, and reasons why. I will note that I tend to enjoy meaty plot-based works over fluff, so that's what I'll be recommending. Anyway!

Paddling Out (THE REPEATER CORPSE CONUNDRUM) - @transhitman - So this is the first DE fic I read and it set the bar pretty fucking high. YOU'VE GOT: a very cool and insular setting (don't get me wrong I like fics where they travel around Revachol too, but there's something to be said for building a set and living in it for a while) YOU'VE GOT: extremely harrowing tension and pale-fuckery YOU'VE GOT: some genuinely beautiful, heartfelt moments (I don't want to spoil anything but "people don't need your permission to care about you" kinda undid me) YOU'VE ALSO GOT: Amazing art?! Always a bonus, I wish I could draw people lol

Have You Heard The News That You're Dead? - Wizardlover - Time Loop shenanigans hell yeah! Basic premise: Kim is *unable* to save Harry's life after he's shot at the tribunal, each time he dies he Reawakens in Martinaise on the first day and desperately has to try and find a way to either prevent the Tribunal entirely, or survive it. I think the major draw to this one is how well it's characterised and how well that lends to the major source of tension: trying to convince THE WORLD'S BIGGEST SKEPTIC that you *a man he 'has only just met'* is actually stuck in a time loop. Juicy shit.

The Case Of The Man Who Two-Thirds Wasn't There - @glisteningceruleaneyes - We got another case fic here, gang. This is one of those "they travel around Revachol" numbers I previously mentioned. A lot to love about this fic; the minor OCs are all loveable (or at least well-written, looking at you Mr. Bigot-All-Rounder), the elements of writing in the game's style (particularly use of Harry's 'to do' list that you find in the ledger, you don't see that as often!) are all fantastic. Also without spoiling too much I'm a sucker for hurt/ comfort :) I like when bad things happen to our specialist guy :) ALSO! alternating chapters, Kim vs Harry's perspectives contrast REALLY well! Just a super enjoyable read. - On that note I also wanna include a special mention: there's a podfic for this one and since I mentioned my two jobs, I've been listening to audiobooks at work (I'm a cleaner. It's very boring) and that was a fun change of pace!

The Emergent Causeway - hal_incandenza - Now you KNOW this one is good because it's the only *unfinished* fic I'm recommending. Again, We've got art! We've got a brand new (non-Revachol!) setting that still feels excellently Elysium! We got that excellent balance of humour and misery from the get go! EXCELLENT murder mystery so far, I am intrigued AND also there's a fucking puppy. Hell yeah. This one's from Kim's perspective and does a really good job of it, nothing like a man being begrudgingly sent on holiday and being somewhat relieved to have a corpse to deal with.

A Spilled Kaleidoscope - @spilledkaleidoscope - I'm actually recommending a series here. Real definition of "came for the art, stayed for the writing" I mostly have a soft spot because I got to watch a few "haha, what if-?" musing text posts become a series of written chapters and INCREDIBLE DRAWINGS HOLY SHIT. Like, you really just draw hands for fun, huh? This person made a pact with some sort of devil beasts to draw hands very good, at the bare minimum we can read their fiction.

Nothing To Lose But Our Chains - Lepak - I almost forgot this one and I honestly can't believe it because this is one of these ones that you need a cigarette afterwards. Good fucking god. This is probably the best fic I've ever read in terms of not shying away from the heavy themes that make Disco Elysium such a beautiful, moving game. It tackles a racism in many forms, particularly how people like Kim (in working for the RCM) and immigration laws do their part in upholding racist systems, despite the way it hurts him too. Of course, it's also excellently written with tense scenes and some real funny moments. A real good'un here.

The Catacomb Killer - SupposedToBeWriting - Give Harry more memory loss. Make him convinced he killed a kid. Make *Kim* convinced he killed a kid... Then the plot thickens. I won't lie I can't remember fuck all about this one because I was mostly drunk when I read it, but if it was good enough that I kept reading instead of smoking a spliff or something then it must have been excellent... I will re-read it when I have the time, lmao.

MURDER ON THE AIRWAVES - @randomisedmongoose - I'm just a really big fan of murder mysteries and gore. You show me somebody with brain matter pouring from their earholes and I'm like "yum yum, more of that please." I am a sucker for curious methods of murder and this one's good for that. Lots of trekking back and forth like in the game again. More ACAB - always good.

I did not mean to include this many...........................

Oh well. Here's my list, there are plenty of others I've enjoyed but these are just the ones that came to mind! Thanks again for reading my fic! Always makes me happy when people let me know they enjoy my writing :3

#hey if i tagged u in this and u don't want to be tagged then PLEASE lemme know and i'll remove u #likewise i dont know if everyone has tumblr so if u know somebody does ping this post their way and if they wanna be tagged let me know and #i'll do that #fic recs

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thenotebookwizard · 4 months ago

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She-Ra | Defiance CH19: Slow

Scorpia goes to Duncan and he stays with her while she faces the truth of the Horde - and Shadow Weaver. Adora emerges from darkness and begins to face her fears about herself, who she doesn't want to become, and what Shadow Weaver might want her to be.

Adora has a few more chapters coming up here and there before we get to the end of the arc - which pretty much just her.

Next week, we start the sequence of chapters ending with Catra's coronation. After those, we move into (hopefully) another side-story, and then into the last chapter or two before the first major time skip.

Then the second major time-skip, a few chapters of Catra being a princess, a princess of crime, and trying to solve the world's problems with infrastructure and beaches. Adora will get some appearances in the time-lapse phase of the story.

Then - the endgame for the arc. Once we finish this arc of the story, we will be rushing headlong towards the two meeting up.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I am surprised how much Catra I've written. I really did expect this story to be mostly Adora and Scorpia and Duncan, but it's become the inverse. Adora's story will pick up the pace quite a bit at the end of the arc and as we move into the second arc of the story.

I'm actually very excited about it.

I continue to write away at this fic, and I am constantly surprised at the things I discover myself writing and some of the things that crop up. Not just in my comment threads, which have been fabulous - but in terms of how much of my own planning and worldbuilding I'm getting to use. I had figured this would be one of those stories where I use less than half of what I create, but I'm using almost all of it.

The next (planned) side-story is me cleaning up and posting another outtake, similar to Arguments & Apple Candy, in which I wrote something I liked a fair bit, but it really didn't fit with or would slow down the rest the of the fic.

In this case - Catra's first birthday in Halfmoon.

Other writing notes:

The fourth installment of Red Creme Fizz is and remains 'nearly' done, but I keep falling on my face with the ending. I'll be taking another swing at it after I write this (which is written well before posting hour each week, because I'm a chronic over-preparer and hate having to write things at the last minute.)

For those who care, I will be posting my first Babylon 5 fic as part of the WIP Big Bang. One scene left to go. The hardest, of course.

The fifth installment of Red Creme Fizz is underway and will (hopefully) provide my Catradora shippers with love for me and inspire patience for what's coming in Defiance.

As we approach the end of the year, I will have to spend a bit of time finishing up a few other things. one of which I hope to write fairly quickly and on the DL. It's more done than not, and I feel like it will be a fun story for fandom (some of) my followers will know, but most will not.

As always, thank you to all my readers and all my commenters, and all the people who support me on the journey Defiance has become. Because it has been a journey. I started this story in March 2024 with the idea of writing a 90k fic about Princess Catra and Adora finding each other again.

While I certainly *have* done that, I have done far, far more than I thought I would, and I am looking forward to everything that's going to come out of this story.

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scarisd3ad · 9 months ago

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Superstar | football player!Joel miller x popstar!reader

Chapter six - obsessed

Previous >> next

Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings - mentions of sex, cursing, body image talk, insecurity

Summary - when you find out about a certain football player showing up at your tour you decide to reach out just because of all the dating rumors, but what if thoughs rumors turn into reality?

A/N - it’s finally here, sorry for it being so late! But now that I’ve gotten this out of the way I’m aiming for the first chapter of jump then fall to be out sometime next week! re posting this chapter because my computer deleted the edited copy and I didn't notice till months after it had been published.

The next day I woke up with an empty imprint of where Ollie had been sleeping, Joel's arms wrapped around me in a comforting hold, and about 5 million notifications. Mostly notifications from being tagged in posts and stories, but there were some from friends and family too. Like one from Tara with a screenshot of a 'TMZ' article titled 'popstar y/n l/n photographed with new boyfriend Dallas Cowboys star football player Joel Miller on a post-game drive' paired with a dramatic open-mouthed emoji. I rolled my eyes and sent back a 'stfu' before dropping my phone back onto the mattress.

I turned, hearing the bed frame creak quietly as I admired Joel's sleeping figure. He was lying on his stomach with one arm lazily wrapped around me. His hair was messy, but he still somehow looked flawless. Joel stirred as his phone, which lay on the nightstand on top of his wireless charger, began to ring. It flashed a few times, showing off a picture of his mother and him paired with the contact's name 'momma'. Unfortunately, the phone stopped ringing before Joel could fully wake up, letting him fall back into sleep.

"Joel," I whispered as I took my hand that wasn't tucked underneath myself to shake him. He groaned, his eyes not even opening as he hummed a quiet "What?" as his arm that was once lazily wrapped around me pulled me closer. "When's your mom 'sposed to drop the girls off?" I whispered as his head ducked into the crook of my neck, pressing lazy kisses to the length of it. "Dunno. She has a key. She'll let them in when they get here." My neck muffled his voice as he took a small chunk of neck flesh into his mouth and began to suck at it. "Joel," I giggled as I pushed him away, "can't leave marks, can't have any of that at any of my shows." He rolled his eyes as he pressed his lips to mine.

We were interrupted by the sound of childlike giggles running up the stairs. "Speak of the devil," Joel chuckled as he sat up, preparing to greet his girls. The door was thrown open, revealing Sarah and Ellie. "Daddy!" both squealed as they launched themselves into the bed. "We had pancakes for dinner last night!" Sarah said as she leaned her head against her father's chest. Both girls excitedly told their father what they had done with their grandparents the previous night as he took turns pressing kisses to each one's forehead. I felt like I didn't belong during moments like this, family bonding. I wasn't their mother who could sit back fondly watching with a small smile. I was just some stranger lying in their father's bed. They hardly knew me, and I hardly knew them. Thankfully, a call from my mother was able to whisk me away.

"Hi Mom," I said, standing in the bathroom, phone pressed to my ear as I stared into the mirror. "How are you doing?" she asked, her voice low as if she was trying not to wake someone. "Fine...I'm doing fine." I had another 3 shows in Houston next weekend, so that weekend and that entire week were just about relaxation and mentally preparing for my next 3 shows, which were very physically and mentally demanding sometimes. "Your dad saw you on TV last night. He got real excited seein' you." I wished every older man in his 50s felt like that about me right now. Almost every man from the ages of 16 to 70 was pissed off at me cause they 'saw me too much' last night. I wished I didn't let it get to me, but it did. I put up this strong front like no one's able to hurt my feelings but everything they were saying about me did because, for some odd reason, men thought not liking me meant they were allowed to call me a slut and threaten to kill me if I showed up the next game. I was just glad Joel hadn't seen them yet. "Yeah?" I let out an awkward cough. "Yeah...your dad and I are trying to make it up to Houston next weekend. Dad wants to see you perform again." I smiled, though my father never understood one thing about my interest in music and songwriting, he was always my biggest supporter. "Really?"

"Y/n can you hurry up? I've really got to pee!" I heard Ellie shout from outside the door as my mother asked, "Where are you?" I sighed, unlocking the door and letting Ellie rush in as I rushed out. "Um Joel's house...but I've gotta go, alright? Love you."

I walked back into Joel's bedroom. Both girls were now gone, leaving their father alone to scroll Twitter and find out for himself what was the trending hashtag of the day. #fucky/n. How original. How old were they? This was all immature, coming mostly from men over the age of 20. He was looking down at his phone, brows furrowed in a scowl, finger still swiping. He heard my footsteps and looked up, letting out a quiet "oh." I sighed, arms wrapping around my body. "Who was that?" he asked. "My mom," I replied as I walked over to the bed and took a seat. "You don't gotta go to any of my games again...if you don't want to," he whispered. His head cocked to the side as my brows furrowed. He interpreted my sense of confusion as an answer and said, "Y/N, you're getting death threats."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've been getting them for the last 5 years. I normally just ignore them." He sighed loudly as if he didn't understand my way of thinking, before changing the subject. "You stayin' for breakfast?" I shook my head. "No. Gotta studio session this morning..." Joel nodded. "Can you keep Ollie for a few hours? The session is early and I'm not gonna have enough time to drop him off at home."

I was in my car, driving down the freeway when I got a call from Will. I had met William early on in my music career. For years, Will and I had been writing music together for his albums and mine, and sometimes even a duet here and there.

"you're late," he said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of a few people in the background. "I know, sorry. Got held up at Joel's." I could almost hear the eye roll through the phone. Will wasn't the biggest fan of my past boyfriends. It had started with Will hating Andy; he must've seen the red flags before I did. Then he hated Harry because of his reputation of being a 'womanizer', and then there was Tom who he hated simply because he could practically see through him. And now the tradition had gone on to Joel. He didn't have a reason to hate Joel yet, but he'd find one eventually, he always did. "I know, I know, alright. I'll be there in like 5 minutes, okay?"

"Alright, okay, see you in 5," he hung up the phone, leaving me to drive the rest of the way to the studio in silence.

When I get to the studio, a crowd of paparazzi is outside the door waiting for me, and Will is standing by the door, holding it open for me. Will's hair is a lively shade of blonde, and it falls in abundant, floppy locks that twist into gentle curls at the ends. His glasses, while stylish, are slightly oversized for his face, and they add a charming touch of quirkiness to his appearance. His voice is deep, and carries a prominent british accent, which seems to contrast with his facial features. "morning," he says with a nod as I walk into the studio, letting the door slam shut behind me. "Got anything prepared?" he asks as we walk down to the studio we had booked for the day. "A little thought you could help me finish the rest," I say as Will pushes the door open, letting me walk in first before he does.

"Alright, let me hear it," he says as he sits beside a bunch of sound equipment. I unlock my phone and open the voice memo app before playing the most recent voice memo, ' Sparks fly? ' From a few nights ago.

The voice memo starts with me playing guitar before I start the first lyric, "The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm, and I'm a house of card. You're the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I kinda know that I won't get far," will nods as he pauses the memo before unpausing it and letting it play the rest through "and you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch. Close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinking of. Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain. Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain. Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile. Get me with those brown eyes, baby, as the lights go down. Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around. Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile," The memo ends, and will look over at me.

"Kay, I like it. What were the cords you were playing?" shit, I hadn't written them down like I usually did before studio sessions. "Um fuck, I don't know...I think I played A, F, C, and G? Maybe those," he picks up his guitar that had been discarded beside him and begins to play almost identically to how I was in the memo. "Aright was the end the chorus?" I nod a quiet "mhm." "Alright, you got anything else?" I nod before saying, "Yeah, keep on playing." He continues playing his guitar, trying to fill in the missing pieces to continue on the song's instrumental part. "My mind forgets to remind me, your bad idea. You touch me once and it's really something. You find that I'm even better than you imagined I would be. I'm on guard for the rest of the world, but with you, I know it's no good."

We finished off the rest of the song, tweaking some lyrics here and there and even recording the music before we decided to head out. I'm in my car driving by 11:30 when I get a call. The caller ID shows up on the screen on my dashboard. Joel <33. I answered the phone call, and Joel immediately started talking. "Hey baby, what you doin'?" he asks. I can hear him inhaling and puffing out air, letting me know he's probably out on his back porch smoking a cigarette. "Driving. Whatcha need?" he sighs out "nothin' really. Just wanted to know if you want to stay for dinner t'night" I laugh as my car comes to a slow stop at a red light. "Yeah, sure, what you guys havin' tonight?"

"Probably pizza doesn't feel like cooking. The girls will be happy with that," he says, punctuating his sentence with a loud inhale before a matching exhale a few seconds later. "So, how long do you think you'll be?" I hum, pondering a bit as I hit the gas, following after the car in front of me. "maybe 7 minutes? I'm a few lights away," I say. I hear him slide open his sliding glass door and presumably walk inside. "Alright, I'll let you go and Rangle up these kids before you get here. See ya in a bit." The almost piercing beeps as he hangs up fill my ears before my phone begins playing the song it had been playing before Joel's call.

7 minutes later, I pulled up in front of Joel's house to see him sitting on the porch, cigarette hanging from his mouth, while the girls sat on the driveway drawing with chalk. I chose to park on the street so I wouldn't disturb Sarah and Ellie. I leave the car, shoving my phone into one pocket. "y/n!" Sarah leaps up from the pavement, dropping the chalk stick in her hand before running towards me. Tiny arms wrap around my body as she hugs me. "Are you staying for dinner? Daddy ordered pizza," she says excitedly as Joel walks up behind her. "Go on and play with your sister, Babygirl. Let me and y/n talk, alright?" Sarah pulls away, nodding, before running back towards her sister.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says before pressing a short but sweet kiss to my lips. "Pizza'll be here in about 10 minutes. I ordered it right after I hung up with you," he says as he places the cigarette he had pulled from his lips a few seconds ago, slotting it against his upper and lower lip. I nod as I lean into his body. "How was your thing," he asks, arm wrapping around my waist as we walk back towards his front porch. "good," I reply simply as he unwraps his arm around my waist and sits down. Somehow, being in a relationship with Joel Miller was so easy I forgot how my life used to be. My entire world now revolved around football games, touring, Joel, and his girls. I almost forgot that 3 months ago, I was still rotting in my bed, sobbing over the ending of a relationship I thought was going to be forever. The moment I took one step into Joel's life, I was sucked in and hoped to God I'd never be pushed out.

"y/n! can you come draw with us?" Sarah asks from her spot on the pavement. I look at Joel, giving him a look that almost asks, 'Is that okay?' he nods, saying, "Go, we'll talk later." I walk over and sit beside Sarah on the still-hot Texas pavement. Ellies sat across from us, so deep into her drawing that she didn't even look up to greet me. Her knees are scratched up, probably from the pavement, and her forearms and hands are covered in different dusty chalk colors. "Look at my drawing," Sarah says, pointing at a larger drawing to her right. 4 stick-figured people, 3 female, one male, and one stick-figured cat, are drawn to the left of the smaller stick-figured humans. Each is labeled 'Daddy,' 'y/n,' 'Sarah,' 'Ellie,' and 'Ollie.' I almost want to cry at how adorable it is. She smiles up at me, so proud of her work. I wanted to take a picture but decided to take one later.

I want to stay here forever, or at least have something similar to this forever. Joel sat puffing on his cigarette a few inches away, admiring from afar as I interacted with his children. Interactions that make him wish he could have met me first. Before the Barbara's, or Annas. Interactions that make me wish he was the man I met 7 years ago on a red carpet, wishing I hadn't spent 7 years delusionally praying for a ring from a man who fell less and less in love with me every day.

A car with a bright red and white Papa John's logo attached to the top pulls into the driveway. It's almost like the girls have a routine for pizza nights. They both jump up, leaving the chalk on the sidewalk and run into the house, squealing, "Pizza!!" as Joel snuffed out his cigarette against the pavement before walking up to the young brunette man with a wad of cash. I, similarly to the girls, discard the chalk on the pavement and walk inside. I wash my hands before meeting the two girls at the table. Their father already passing out slices.

"Cheese or pepperoni, Ellie?" Joel asks. Ellie, who sits up on her knees in the chair, says, "Both!" he shakes his head. "Nope, you won't eat it all, one or none. El's pick one," she pouts as her arms cross over her chest. "Peperoni," she mumbles under her breath as she sits back down on her butt. Joel nods before placing a slice of pepperoni pizza onto a red plastic plate and sliding it over to her. "Cheese," Sarah says before her father even asks her.

My elbows are on the table, and a half-eaten cheese pizza sits before me. This is something taken straight out of a movie, with the family sitting at the table casually talking about each other's days. Sarah told her dad about the funny joke her grandfather had told her last night. Joel chuckles, recalling the same joke being told to him more than 20 years ago when he was her age. It all felt so surreal. How could I be a part of this? I met these people less than 3 months ago and am already at family dinners. Sometimes, it makes me feel insecure; at moments, the thought of feeling so left out because this is not my family, even though I'm sitting at their family dinner. He's my boyfriend, but these are his children, not mine; I've known these people for less than 3 months and have only been actually dating Joel for one of those months.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Three loud, sharp knocks at the front door pull me from my thoughts. Joel sighed, dropping his slice of pizza before getting up and mumbling about how he'd 'be right back.' The dining room is silent as we hear Joel's hushed voice whispering to whoever is on the other side of the door. Sarah stood up slowly, walking over to the doorway so she could get a look at whoever was at the door. Ellie follows as usual. Monkey see, monkey do. A loud sequel-like shout makes me get up just in time to see Sarah running to the woman standing at the door. "Mommy!"

She looks like Sarah, with similar but tighter dark curls and a slightly darker complexion. She is beautiful. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and though she's only wearing a tee shirt and jeans, she pulls it off fabulously. Though there seems to be not even one wrinkle on her face, I can tell she's closer in age to Joel than I'll ever be. Joel stood at the door uncomfortably as Sarah hugged her mother.

She's tall and thin, thinner than I'd ever thought about being. I could tell she was a model not only because of her stature but also because I'd seen her online. Probably an Instagram account, though I can't recall what platform I saw her on. "how've you been, sarbear?" she asks as she hugs her daughter tightly. "good," Sarah giggles as she steps away from her mother. The woman's eyes now fall to Ellie. "Hey Ellie, how have you been" Ellie shrugs from behind me. Being her usual Ellie self when it comes to people she doesn't know well.

Joel tilts his head almost as if he's saying, 'Come here.' I comply, walking over to him with Ellie trailing close behind. Joel wraps his arm around my waist as the woman's eyes fall on me. She looks me up and down about 2 times before smiling, "And you must be..." She drags out the 'e' sound of be until I answer back meekly, "Y/n...I'm y/n." She nods, a genuine smile on her face like she's actually happy to meet me, which is not a regular occurrence when an ex meets a new girlfriend.

"Nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Barbara, but you can just call me Barb," I nod, smiling, trying to match the genuine smile she had on her face because despite the millions of insecure thoughts swirling inside my head, I was genuinely happy to finally meet her. "How long have you two been together?" she asks, eyes flicking up to Joels. "Um, bout 3 months, right honey?" he says, a fake smile gracing his lips as he leans his head down a bit to press a kiss to my temple. "Yeah, about that," I say with a forced giggle as I lean into Joel a little more. Right at this moment, my insecurities flood back in, realizing I look nothing like her. She's thin, her body fills out right where it needs to, she has no hip dips, scars, or stretchmarks. she was perfect. If this was his ex, was I not his type, or was she not?

I was looking at her body and then comparing it to mine. Wondering if he liked her legs better than mine? Did he like her hips more? Her boobs? Her butt? Her eyes? It's almost like I'm looking at her like I want to be hurt. I don't know if I'd rather him tell me straightforwardly what he liked better or me sitting here riddled with my own insecurity. I wonder if she could smell the insecurities practically dripping off of me.

"Barb, why are you here?" Joel asks; she looks at him and just laughs his words off. "I'm here to see my daughter," she says with a scoff as her hands placed on her hips. Joel rolls his eyes. "it's not like you wanted to for the last 2 years." I know this is my cue to take the girls and let them have their 'adult conversation', so I pull away from Joel and say, "Common girls, let go play with Ollie?" both girls excitedly race upstairs towards Joel's room, where we had put Ollie while we ate.

I sat on the bed with the girls, my anxiety and insecurities festering inside me as the girls swooned over my cat. Would Barbara's reappearance randomly rekindle their relationship? Would I just be left in the dust? I know he was acting like he was annoyed with her downstairs, but I bet if she tried, he'd get back with her, right? He'd probably rather be with the mother of one of his children than me.

Sarah deserved a perfect family, a mom, a dad, a little sister. She didn't deserve whatever she had right now; I know Joel knew that. And I know he didn't want it to be this way. From what I heard, it seemed like she was not around a lot, and that was why he was so uncomfortable with her being here, but if she proposed to start their relationship again, I'd bet he'd agree. Her having him would mean she'd stay. Even if it wasn't for Sarah, she'd stay, and Sarah would have her mom back for good. There would be no need for some 'pretend mom' anymore. No more revolving door of girlfriends, though I desperately didn't want to be a part of that revolving door. Joel barges into the room, instructing his daughters to get ready for bed before slamming the door shut behind him. Leaving just him and me in the bedroom, alone.

"She's staying the night." He grumbled, arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me close. I don't ask why, feeling as though it is none of my business. I hum with a slight nod. "I was just bout to head out then," I say, pressing my head into his shoulder. Our 'sleepovers,' if you even can call them that, typically only lasted one night, maybe till dinner the next night, but definitely not a second night. "You're leaving?" I can almost hear the frown on his lips. My brow furrowed in confusion. Normally, he wouldn't budge when I said I was leaving. A few kisses, and I'm usually off, but not tonight. His arms instinctively wrap tighter around my waist as if to say, 'Don't go.' but his ex is here, Sarah's mother. Isn't that awkward?

"I thought I'd just go...cause she-she's here. But if you don't want me to leave, I can stay," I whisper, pressing a few soft kisses to Joel's exposed neck. "Yeah," he mutters with a nod.

Barbara is on the couch downstairs, both girls are fast asleep in their beds, and I'm still awake scrolling mindlessly though Barbara's Instagram. she's got millions of pictures posted dating all the way back to 2014. she's nice, and I really like her I do but I can't help but feel jealous of her when I get posts from 2015. most with Joel who looks so much younger, I can tell she's pregnant in most of them.

I can't help but obsess over every part of her body that doesn't look like mine, wonder if he prefers her body over mine. I wonder how she was during their relationship. was she good in bed? better than me? did he prefer sleeping with her? did he ever think about her? was she still friends with his friends? did his mom like her better than me? and it doesn't make this any easier on me knowing he's got a kid with her and not with me. she's forever attached to him because of Sarah but me I'm disposable. his children aren't my blood, they aren't from my womb he could forget me easily if he really wanted too. he can't forget her because he sees her every time he looks at Sarah.

I'm trying to pick out something for me to hate her, and the only reason I've come up with is because she's basically abandoned Sarah. I guess I'm turning into will. the only photos posted of Sarah was 8 years ago on her birthday July 20th, 2015, baby Sarah all swaddled up being held by Barbara who laid in a hospital bed, Joel stood next to her admiration and joy gleaming in his eyes. then 2 months later Sarah being help by Joel with the caption 'favorite people'. then after than nothing radio silent it's like the baby disappears. people in the comments must've thought that too because every comment for the next few months of posts are along the lines of 'where's the baby?'. I'm guessing that's when she left.

I know Joel loves me, and that I'm probably going crazy, but I can't help but obsess over her. "you're still awake?" Joel slurs, voice deep from sleep. I turn off my phone immediately and turn so I'm facing him. one of his arms wraps around my waist pulling me closer to him. "can't sleep" I mutter as he presses open mouthed kisses to my neck and jawline.

even as he's practically sucking hickeys into my neck all I can think about is that he's probably done this to her, while she was laying on the same side I was as he whispered quiet 'I love You's into her neck. I can't help it as tears form in my eyes that are quickly blinked back. I can't let him know how insecure I actually am. I don't want him to know how insecure I've gotten in the last few hours because I know there's a chance, I could get hurt.

"wha's wrong? you're tense" he says pulling away from me. I freeze staring him in the eyes as his brows curl into a furrow. "what's wrong?" his left hand reaches from my cheek caressing it softly. "nothing" I mutter leaning into his soft touch. he hums questionably like he doesn't believe me but goes onto press his lips against my none the less.

I'm so obsessed that once Joel goes back to sleep, I can't help but scroll her page. I don't even know why I'm so obsessed, it's not like I'm ugly I'm just not anything like her so maybe that's why I'm letting it get to me. deep down I'm terrified that she's his type more than I am, that maybe her long legs, perfect hair, and confidence will sweep him right back off his feet and I'll be all alone again. I'm terrified of him leaving and stop loving me like Andy did. I don't want to rot in bed again over a man I have stupidly fallen head over heels in love with again. I don't want to this to end because of how deeply have fallen into this. I don't want him to fall onto my long list of ex-lovers and have yet another reason to be called a slut.

Taglist

@taylarxse @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @ktheunready @camixkami @skysmiller @mars743 @tylrswftss @alyhull @jenna-mcgraw19 @h4teh3x @lexloon @greensabereyesforcevictim @cozylibraries @celebrities-imagines @nezukos-number1fan @abbysgirll @marispunk @hopelessromantic727 @fairyain @joeldjarin

#fanfics #x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #the last of us show #pedro pascal #sarah miller #ellie williams #taylor swift #travis kelce

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optiwashere · 9 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Holy shit, it's actually on a Wednesday this time?

I really wanted to do one of these this week since I've gone a bit rabid on a few WIPs.

I'll post a little bit about each of those WIPs later, some snippets and a blurb about why I'm so excited. But first! Folks to tag! Since I'm so excited for these, I'm gonna tag a lot this time.

If you have anything you want to share WIP writing-wise, please do... @quitefair @bottombatch @siyurikspakvariisis @causticcontemplation @jasminethetransvampire @underworldobsessed @assarivanguard @amorficzna @funwithnix @askweisswolf @linka-from-captain-planet @tief4tief

If you don't want to do this, or have nothing you want to share, feel free to ignore. If anyone else wants to do this, please feel free to consider yourself tagged. Now, onto my obsessions.

WIP 1: New chapter of Nightsongs

After spending some chapters in a kind of angst zone after the relatively light (relatively) first 4-5 chapters, this next chapter is going to be a kind of upswing. There's lots left to do with the AU, so I'm expecting to chug along and write more and more as time permits.

This AU is a lot for me to handle, especially after having so many chapters ready to post and then... falling way behind on writing the chapters afterwards. But it's fanfiction, and we're having fun here. So, who cares? The game's fandom heyday is already over, so at this point I'm just writing whatever feels best to me.

This chapter is mostly done, I think. I'm giving it a few days/a week to sit before I go back to edit it with fresher eyes. Also, we return to Ash's POV!

Lae’zel walked into Ash’s back office without a word on the seventh day and Ash nodded her way without looking up. Papers sat in strewn piles all over the desk, a handful of old incident reports and assessments that still needed working for Wulbren’s accountants. The absolute worst part of the job remained for the year – paperwork – and Ash intended to get them caught up in the hours that remained of her day. It was a useful, meaningful task. It gave her something else to think about. Anything other than green eyes. “We should talk,” Lae’zel said, sitting down without being offered one of the folding chairs in front of the desk. “Aren’t we doing that?” Ash scanned the paper in front of her and quickly jotted down her signature. [...] “You begin working on a van,” Lae’zel said matter-of-factly, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. “You talk to a pretty girl. You suddenly work more often on that van. Then, you disappear inside yourself and act bitter all day because suddenly the girl no longer shows up. There is more to it than you say.” “I think this might be the first time you’ve spoken more than five words to me, you know that?” Ash chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

WIP 2: New chapter of Blades in the Night

The need to write more plot for this has been burrowing in my skull for a long time. I initially stopped myself from writing too much of it because I wanted to do Nightsongs first in its entirety before getting to this, but I think I'm just too impatient for that.

I also love the fact that this fic turned from a simple PWP one-shot into this much more expansive, plotty story that's now pretty important for what I want to do with my babies post-canon. Something about that makes me smile.

Plus, you know how I've been lamenting my inability to write happy endings for certain characters?

Either way, this isn't really complete, but the hardest part is complete and now I just have to start connecting the dots and filling in the blanks. I'd say it's about a third done?

The room filled with the same aura of a distant gaze leveled their way that Shadowheart had felt back in the cloister. Asheera had made an oath to protect Shadowheart then, and the flooding of a dense, real presence had nearly swallowed her whole in the cloister's barracks. A weight of importance sunk down on her shoulders there in Hobb's Hovel as well. A smell like molten metal cooling lilted in the air with a lingering, acrid tang. It tasted of blood in Shadowheart's mouth, as if the forging was tainted with some other foul presence in the mixture. [...] Little could have compared better to that feeling of a weight lifted from her shoulders. Worry disappeared and gave way to earnest joy in Shadowheart, and she thrived on it. She hadn't felt such keen happiness since she'd been so readily accepted into Asheera's family by her parents.

WIP 3: Gauntlet of Shar fic

Wow, I know! I've been talking about writing this fic for so long that it's almost become a sort of mythical never-to-be-slain beast for me. I'm not normally someone that talks about my ideas too often, I just write them before they can flee me.

I tend to also get in my own head about what I "should" be writing in the first place. Frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of writing so many ships, though fear not - I'll still have ideas that can only work with ships that aren't Shadowheart/Asheera. It's just that, for a while, I want to focus back on my loves.

This fic is one of those that I've wanted to finish for months. I know that at this point in the fandom's life cycle, I'm pretty much writing just for the dedicated, lovely folks that still read my stuff and I'm extremely happy to have y'all around! Maybe this will make Light Casts a Shadow ring a little more true for some, maybe it will be just another fic that I post, who knows.

Also, one thing I'm planning on experimenting with for this fic is alternate endings for Fun. This is a fic where the ending hinges on choices that Shadowheart makes in the game, so it's only fitting that I explore what would happen if she made those other choices.

But anywho, enough blabbing. Excerpt time!

Those touches and more, Asheera cherished. She watched in silence as Shadowheart turned her devotions to each of those tasks. Perhaps it was the nature of clerics to give themselves entirely to seemingly mundane tasks much the same Asheera felt compelled to consider her oaths in nearly every conversation, battle, or even moments like Shadowheart carefully buckling a cuisse to her leg with straps of leather at the backs of Asheera's knees. Fingertips trailed against her clothed skin, and Shadowheart stood up once more. "There," she said, "all's taken care of, then. Tell me, how's my handiwork? Be honest. I can handle the criticism." Asheera brought her balled fist to her chest in an arm curl. She flexed the elbow out and tested her shoulders, knees, ankles, and hips for motion. None of the plates caught on one another, and none of the straps across her hands, arms, knees, or chest restricted her. "Perfect," Asheera said at last. "Marvelous work." Shadowheart offered a quick smile. "I'll take a Gondian's compliment on such things any day." "Can't say I would've done a better job." "Ah, there's the honesty I was waiting for. Truly, where would you be without me?"

#random rambling about writing #bg3 #shadowheart #shadowtav #shadowheart x tav #oc: asheera #my fic #nightsongs au #amongst other things................

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pfffsfic · 5 months ago

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Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 15: The Possibilities

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"Our sleep schedule is kinda messed up, if you think about it. You've been conking out constantly. But one time I spent 5 hours working on a rarepair doujin for this event thing, even though it was a school night, so is it really that messed up? Ehehe!"

Rob was unconscious and unresponsive. His chest rose and fell gently; he was alive, and that made him a good enough conversation partner for Sarah.

"No way am I getting the money by tonight! When he comes back, I'm gonna try to cut him a deal. And then I'm gonna try and get us a job! I have this whole plan, but I don't know if you can hear me, so I won't waste my breath. Aaah! I'm so excited!"

She squished her cheeks.

"I can't wait for you to tell me more about the whole time loop thing when you wake up, because if it's real, I am gonna milk it, you have no idea. I have so many things I want to try! Like- let me tell you about all my plans. And- and- I also have plans for if the time loop thing isn't real, because of course I do, you know? I'm the obsessive one! Not to toot my own horn."

"…and none of it makes ANY sense! Does any of it make any sense to any of you? Not a rhetorical question, guys, I want to see hands up. Raise your hands if this makes any sense to you, and those of you with no hands, raise… something, whatever, just raise something. Nobody? That's what I thought. And that's what drives me so mad about it! Beliiiiieve me, I like nonsensical stuff as much as the next guy, but ∆⎔▰▰⊜!"

A few vacant stares were directed at Bill- and the majority of them were coming from Amorphous Shape's many eyes. Many more vacant stares were directed elsewhere.

"Not to question you, man, but you said a few hours ago that you'd never bring them up again after you finished talking," offered Kryptos.

"Hey, smart guy, did it ever occur to you that I'm NOT DONE TALKING?"

There was no verbal response. In fact, the room was silent, and nothing was ever silent around here. The next noise anyone heard was Bill resuming his rant.

"The $% ! audacity of them! I know what you're thinking- how am I letting them get to me? And the answer is, I am not! They aren't getting to me, okay? So don't say they are! I know nobody said anything, but you were all thinking it, and I can say that even without reading your minds. They aren't getting to me, which is exactly why I have to make that perfectly clear. So let me go over the situation again from the top…"

"Order of business one: I want to see if we can get jobs at the Mystery Shack. As exhibits, I mean. But wait, you ask!"

Rob didn't ask anything, mostly because he was asleep.

"Doesn't us being bona-fide supernatural creatures make that impossible since, according to the show, people here only like fake stuff? Well, it does, until you remember that hiring us would also be child labor, so it cancels out and makes it likely to work. Basic narrative math. And if that fails I can superglue a zipper onto your back so you look like a guy in a suit."

She prepared for a rebuttal along the lines of, 'why not superglue a zipper onto your own back if you want to do this so bad?' but none came. Silly me, she thought.

"…And if that fails we can find jobs on Craigslist."

The twenty-cutout threshold had been reduced to 10 after a week, then 5, and then two- and it had just been, in a moment of hopelessness and frustration, reduced to one. Gumball had failed a dozen times in a row to get that one successful hit.

"I'm lowering it to zero," deadpanned Nicole.

"No! No, I can do this."

"Sweetie, if you've made one thing clear, it's that you can't do this."

"Shut up and let me make you proud of meee!"

With sloppy form, he took down one of the cutouts, which had already faced a hundred different beatings at the hands of the other members of the family. Tensions were at an all-time high, and the family owed that partially to the fact that, at lunchtime in a few hours, they would be forced to share the final remaining can of baked beans in the pantry. It was expired (and has been since 2003), mostly because none of them liked baked beans very much, but the only other food in the house was a fruitcake so stale that a fork had turned to dust against it days earlier.

"Cardboard cutouts are really nothing like the real thing, anyways. If we want to survive out there we have to get some practical practice! Isn't that right, everyone?"

There was mass nodding.

"Then it's settled! 4 to 1! We're going to the surface. Get your bats- things are about to get messy."

For the first time since the void swept in and claimed their surroundings, the Wattersons' basement door slowly creaked open.

"Do you think you would have a shot with anybody here, Rob? I mean romantically. If you think about it, this whole thing is like a self-insert story, only instead of stand-in characters who are like the us we wish we could be, it's just us! Isn't this crazy? I mean, if you really think about it?"

She gently lifted his chin and opened and closed his jaw, and thankfully he was too far gone to wake up and protest. "Why dontcha try 'n romance one of the locals if yer so passionate about it, huh?" she spoke as him, adding an accent by accident that he didn't have.

"Oh, you know I have a reservation back home," she said as herself. "Besides! I've been expanding my horizons. Why include myself in all my ships when other people have so much chemistry with each other? Like- imagine this. Are you imagining it? I know you are."

Rob was in a dreamless sleep.

"If you cleaned up a bit you could have a chance with Mabel I think. But that's kind of easy pickings, right? And besides, your personalities, I dunno. I think it'd have to be a slow burn, which is not her style. You know, I thought what might be fun is you and Dipper. Hear me out, okay? He's into the supernatural. But not like that, you say? Well, that's where we sort of have to stretch our interpretation. You two are the same age, you're cool and confident… uh, sometimes, and you're also totally freaky looking, no offense. He'd be all over the chance to study you… maybe. We'd have to set things up, but I think I could totally do that. I'm an expert matchmaker, by which I mean I make imaginary matches between my friends and acquaintances! How much harder could it be to do in real life? Or, I guess this isn't really real life, huh? All the better."

The artist's rendition of the suspect on the wanted poster looked as if it had been drawn in crayon by a 7-year-old. Dipper turned it around, held it at arm's length, pored over it for a few long moments, and then set it down and put one tense hand on his forehead. And then picked it up and started the whole process over again.

"Find any new details, Dip-dop? You've been looking at that thing for like an hour."

He made a small noise of surprise and set down the poster on the table.

"Take a look at this." He pointed to the face of the drawing. "They forgot to add one of his eyes. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"Maaaybe he only has one eye. And he's coming for yours! Rob, the master eye thief!"

"Don't joke about that! What if you jinx it into being the truth?"

"We can just give him one of those eyeball jawbreakers in the jar on the counter, and everybody will be happy."

"Jawbreakers? I always figured those were real eyeballs."

"Well, even better!"

He folded up the paper as if to put it away, then, as if driven by instinct, opened it up again and continued to look it over.

"Do you think he became a robber because his name is Rob, or that he goes by Rob because he's a robber?" Dipper asked, looking down at the perp's name as if to somehow glean new information from it.

"Do you think Robbie is gonna get angry about his position as the town's most important Robert-adjacent dude being stolen? Heh, stolen."

"…What do you think about going on a manhunt? Or a cyclopshunt?"

"You're kind of getting ahead of yourself with this whole cyclops idea. On the other hand, I am on the hunt for a man!"

"That's, uh, not what a manhunt is."

"With love we make our own definitions, brobro."

"If we wanted to really mess things up we could leave the DVD where the twins could find it. If you found out your whole life was a TV show created by people in a whole 'nother universe, that would be pretty messed up, huh? I don't even want to think about it."

Sarah shivered and her whole body momentarily wobbled like jelly. Rob, who had been through that exact experience, was not available for comment.

"We could just erase everybody's memories afterwards, easy peasy. And if the memories came back, they'd just basically feel like two of the same memory, probably, so there wouldn't be too many alarm bells. That or they'd have lifelong psychological trauma. Maybe this is actually not such a good idea, especially if there's no time loop! Wouldn't it be messed up if there was a time loop but then we started noticing the things we did in one loop having effects in the next?"

She puppeteered his mouth and said, "Oh, definitely, that would be so messed up."

"You feeling alright, mate? You've been looking a little overworked lately."

"Aw, no! It's just hot in here. Don't tell me you aren't feeling that."

"Are you lads feeling that?" Several shaken heads (or bodies, or celestial bodies) resulted. "I think it's just you."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"You should get that checked out."

"By who?"

"Good point."

"Mars, care to get a little closer and take a look at this spot in North America that itches?"

"Love to, but I'm currently away. Orbits and all that."

"Quite alright. I'll see you when you come back around."

"Sure hope I don't catch whatever you have, Earth!"

"You know what could be cool? If we became, like, universe hoppers. We experienced the apocalypse back home and we're probably gonna experience it here. So, I was thinking, we could convince the van guy- do you know his name? I feel kinda awkward just calling him the van guy."

Rob didn't know his name, not that he could have told her either way.

"Whatever. We could convince him to take us around and maybe we could visit some more apocalypses. Be folk heroes or something! Wouldn't that be cool? It would have to be after we've gotten our 40 dollars' worth out of this place, though."

It may have been worth 40 dollars in fares for the both of them, but in reality all they had collectively paid for their rides was 20 dollars.

"We could commandeer his vehicle. It'd be two versus one. And I have been known to be pretty convincing," she said, pummeling one palm with the other fist.

Something stirred inside Wrecker's cage and his eye gently fluttered open. Normally, the darkness of the blanket was enough to put him indefinitely to sleep in this little corner of Rob's subconscious, but someone was speaking unintelligibly from on high- that, and the ground was shaking. He made his way out through the hole Bill had bent some time before and meekly opened the door out of the office onto an entirely unfamiliar scene.

Every one of the memory islands beyond the school was in the process of crumbling. Even the TV static backdrop was losing its scintillation in favor of a painfully static- that is to say, still- pattern of gray and white squares, like a transparency layer. His heart jumped into his throat and before long he found himself dashing back into the office and unveiling his three companions.

"You guys," he said in an uncharacteristically fearful tone, "you've got to see this."

"See what? Is it something good?" asked Memory-Rob #1.

"No! It's something very bad!"

Wrecker tried to no avail to bend the bars of the other cages. Just then, a brilliant, half-familiar seam of light split the floor into a crevasse right where he stood, and he only narrowly jumped out of the way as a chunk of the ceiling sizzled into nothingness above him. Memory-Robs #1 and #2 were frightened, pushing at the bars. Superintendent-Rob was looking up with a look of anger and resignation.

"Does anyone here know what's happening?" Wrecker asked, and the others shook their heads.

The ground beneath the cage cracked and splintered.

Debris fell down, down, and then blinked out of existence as it hit some invisible floor.

Memory-Rob #2 made the mistake of standing in the corner of his cage… and then the whole thing plummeted. There was a chilling scream that came to an even more chilling abrupt end.

"Go," said Superintendent-Rob. "See what you can do. No use in staying here and dooming yourself."

Judging by his face, Memory-Rob #1 wanted to protest, but he said nothing, and so Wrecker turned and ran away from the checkered tide just as the school fell into nothingness. The dreamscape was malleable enough for him to leap successfully to the next island, and then the next one, eventually settling on the edge of a nature island where a rusty 'NO BILL ALLOWED' sign guarded a dark forest. This place was stable! All of the other islands had been quaking. He sighed in relief- and then he looked up and saw himself, or rather another Memory-Rob. He wasn't aware that any more existed. No, wait, this wasn't necessarily a memory- could this be his main consciousness?

"What's going on?" asked Wrecker again.

"What do you mean, what's going on?"

"Your memories are crumbling!" Wrecker gestured angrily to the dreamscape in disarray around them.

"It's a good thing I'm safe here, then," said present-Rob(?) with a little smile on his face, one that Wrecker wanted to wipe off. "Who are you?"

"Who- you're asking who I am?"

"Sure I am, dude, I just asked you that."

Wrecker tried to answer, but found that he couldn't. It was both of their minds crumbling.

"I don't know," said Wrecker, "but that's bad."

"Bad?"

For just a second, present-Rob's face flashed with concern, but it faded.

"Yes! Can't you see that something is clearly wrong here?"

"I don't see anything wrong."

Wrecker tried to hold on, he really did. But- even though this island should have been safe- his voice was abruptly cut off as his consciousness, just one part of a larger consciousness, was taken by the encroaching nothingness, leaving a lone Rob staring and wondering who exactly he was just speaking to.

Convinced that this was all just a surreal dream, Present-Rob turned on his heel and walked back into the forest with a content smile. REM sleep was coming to an end, and truth be told this whole thing had made him rather well-rested. The feeling that he was forgetting something occurred to him for a split second and then it was gone.

#rob tawog #tawog rob #bill cipher #henchmaniacs #gumball watterson #nicole watterson #sarah g lato #dipper pines #mabel pines #it's an anthology chapter!#crossover #gravity falls #tawog #the amazing world of gumball #still cant really write dipper and mabel i think #postfallfallsfalsestarts #postfALLOFIT

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