#still need to figure out a good tag for WIP posts

[the73rdpostscript]

Word Finder Game

You are given five words. You must find those words in one or more WIPs and post the excerpt containing each word!

Was tagged by @non-un-topo. (Thanks friend! Being tagged in one of these games once again got me to write a few more sentences so I appreciate it <3)

Your words are: blank, rose, scowl, purpose and fortune.

Somehow I haven't used the word scowl in any of my most recent 20 WIPs??? I found blank a few times and purpose twice, and I decided to share my results for rose even though it definitely doesn't count :)

Purpose - From the story where Nicky and Nile end up on a monster hunt in the woods.

Nicky is purposefully positioning himself between them and the darkness - where the thing is making soft and angry noises. "Nicky," Nile says, testing the volume, "Nicky!" His head tilts just enough - a signal that he heard. She licks her lips and dodges a squirming shoulder aimed right at her chin before she tries to say it. "Maybe that guy was right. Maybe. Maybe this thing isn't just a thing we can kill. Maybe it's a manifestation of something."

Purpose 2 - From the story where Nicky and Nile go to the movies

Lifting his arm up, he waits till she slides in under it before he replies. "Booker and Joe were always more interested in the physics of the unknown than I was. I preferred to question our purpose.” And he gives her shoulders a squeeze because he suspects she’s also thinking of the first time they all met – the bitter collision of their past with her future.

Blank - From the story where Joe and Nicky can't sleep

Studying the shadows from the windows, Joe is reminded that he doesn’t take the time to stare at empty spaces as often as he should. There’s too much art on his walls to allow for much blank space, and he considers turning his breakfast table a few degrees towards the doorway of the kitchen area so he can stare at the single narrow blank wall space beside the doorway. Resting his eyes and admiring the light he gets in early morning hours would be an improvement to his morning routine. Even if that morning routine barely exists at this point. Does he need to enforce his routine more? Would he fall asleep if he got up and practiced the motions as if he was getting sleep?

Blank 2 - From the story about Nile's first century of life

They established this routine a week into their first break. It's a grounding practice for her internally, but it also helps her remember who Nicky is outside of the times that he shoots a man in the head point blank without flinching. Soon they'll say a short prayer together and he'll send her off to the church with a hug. Then he'll crawl back into bed with Joe to do his own Sunday rituals - a tradition Andy somehow always sleeps through and Nile is very glad to leave behind.

Blank 3 - From the story where Nicky builds coffins

WARNING: This section contains descriptions of corpses

On the second day he saw two men had landed in a kind of embrace. One had ended up slightly more on top of the other - one arm haphazardly laying across his back in a grotesque gesture of protection. His legs were missing but the other man's legs were folded upwards - as though supporting him. The one laying under the first had his head pressed into the other man's chest as though seeking comfort. The first man's head was tilted at an agonizing angle - staring up at Nicolo with blank eyes - covered in flies. Nicky stared down at the bodies for an indeterminate amount of time, before he felt tears running down his own cheeks. Picking up the shovel again, he began the slow process of covering the tomb, before he moved on to the next few bodies. He did not bother to wipe his face.

Rose - From the story where Joe is a plant dad on instagram

Like he’s been given a third wind, Joe exhales into his rant, “That is not even close to the proper lighting for a succulent garden. That tray would have taken an hour or more to set up, and those plants will last two months at best. Those rosettes grow that way because-” the words cut off in a gasp as Nicky leans forward and licks Joe’s neck. “Keep going,” he murmurs. “No, no, this is better,” Joe says, turning to kiss Nicky with wet lips.

I'm going to double tag @polarcell and @gallifreyburning And then I'm gonna tag @aphroditestummyrolls @lazaefair and @raedear

Your words are ring, pout, plant, grave and oyster

[windor-truffle]

I remembered Major Victoria not really playing much of a role in the story but I thought I had just forgotten some of her dialogue... nope, she only has 5 lines of very generic dialogue during the coup at Barona Castle 😭 canon did you so dirty girl imma try to give you some relevancy okay???

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I have no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning comes too soon as you toss and turn through the night. You drag yourself out of bed and wrap yourself in your housecoat before braving the cold floors of the house. It isn’t a big place but it traps draughts like a tundra cavern.

You put on a pot of coffee to brew and go through your typical routine. That day is different as you listen for Eva. You told yourself last night, you’re going to lay off. You’re going to let her figure herself out.

As you take a jar of prepared overnight oats out of the fridge and fish out a protein bar for the mid-afternoon, you hear your sister sniff. She yawns as she enters. To your surprise and relief, she dressed, presentably so. She leans on the other side of the counter and flicks her lashes.

“Coffee?” She asks, sounding only a bit desperate.

“Some left,” you confirm.

She grumbles and comes around to get her own mug and pours with another yawn. You could say it. I told you so. I told you not to stay out late for your first day. At least she’s awake.

“Good luck,” you say as you zip up your small lunch bag.

“Right,” she turns and leans on the granite and blows over the mug. You peek over your shoulder as she narrows her eyes. “How did you find me last night?”

You withhold a sigh. You don’t want to argue. You don’t need her walking into her first day in a mood.

“Eva, we can talk later.”

She’s quiet, “really? You’re tracking me?”

You grab your mug, “I really need to get ready.”

“Sure,” she scoffs.

Silence roils and you make yourself face her. “I deleted it last night, okay? I meant it. You’re an adult. You’re going to do what you’re going to do.”

“You still did that,” she says.

“I did and I’m sorry,” you admit. “I won’t make excuses. We can’t keep doing this.” You chew your lip and tap your fingers on the porcelain cup, “I just hope this works out. It’ll be nice for you to have some extra cash.”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

You leave it. She’s going to simmer for a while. In her shoes, you would too. You take your coffee into the bathroom and put it on the counter. As you open the mirror to grab your face cleanser, you wince. You blow through your lips as you shut the reflective door.

You put the bottle down and untie your house coat. You roll up your camisole and cringe. You gently touch the tender spot along your ribs. It's bruised pretty good. The bone hurts too but you’re not too worried about a break.

You shudder and ignore the soreness as you go through the steps. Cleanse, moisturise, tone. Brush your teeth, figure out your hair. Then only a swipe of mascara, a tint of lip stain, and a subtle kiss from your blush stick. Natural but something. You were never one for the whole primer to highlighter parade.

You put on a striped blue blouse and a pair of grey herringbone pants. You spritz a bit of jasmine body spray over yourself then go to get your lunch and purse. You step into your leather loafers and shrug on your beige jacket.

“Eva, am I driving you?” You call down.

“Coming,” she scuffles around unseen before she appears.

If she isn’t in the best mood, she does look her best. She’s added a rosegold chain to her skirt and sweater combo, and a pair of slingback kitten heels, some earrings, and her face and hair are just perfectly done. Not too much, not too little. Her freckles peek through and give her a little extra character.

“Wow, you look nice,” you praise.

“Really? You look dead inside,” she snickers.

You’re relieved that she’s joking. You take it with a shrug, “Time of death, I’d say ten years ago.” She rolls her eyes, “you bring something to eat?”

“Nah, I looked up the place. It’s near Sage. I’ll go there.”

“Okay,” you accept. You’re not sure where she got the money to do so. You eat in chronically but she’s always out with her friends getting all the fancy lattes and fusions.

You head out, not used to the company. It's about time she got something going. She worked at the dentist office for a summer in high school but she hated her boss. You told her that she probably always will. Lord knows you’re no fan of yours.

“No pressure, but try to make this one work, Eva,” you say. “I called in a favour for it.”

“I know,” she snips. “You don’t need to remind me. I didn’t ask, you know?”

“I’m not—I just—I only want the best,” you resign. “I shouldn’t project. I know you will do wonderfully.”

She blows a raspberry, “alright, cheesy.”

You steer along the usual route. Her building is only a block from yours. You drop her off like you would outside school. Her teen years were rough. For you, but not her. After you left her with your mom, you made sure she got to graduation. You feel like you owe her so much more for abandoning her for so long. If you hadn’t though, would you be here? Would you be able to get her out at all?

You continue down to your office building. There’s a loud rumble behind you. A motorcycle. You hate the things. They remind you of someone you’d rather not think of. Not to mention they’re noisy and put out pollution like crazy.

You flip on your blinker as the early morning rider skims past you. Your parking past dangles from the rear view as you find a spot in the grid. You gather up your things and ready yourself for another day.

You march inside and opt for the stairs. You try to skip the elevator at least three times a week. Your job keeps you idle far too much. Even with a standing desk. As you climb, your breath picks up and the bruise on your side throbs. You should’ve popped some advil.

You get to your floor and get yourself set up. You raise the desk and straighten the standing mat. You sign into your station and start down the new list of orders. As you ease into the morning, others arrive and groggily do the same.

Your fingers skitter over the keyboard in a flurry. As you send another request to the mail dock, a shadow appears in your peripheral. Mr. Walker leans the corner of your desk. For a moment, you wonder if he has a brother or cousin that likes to troll the bars for young girls.

Your boss puts his other hand on his hip. Even with your desk raised, he dwarfs it with his size. You pause your typing and look at him.

“Morning, Mr. Walker,” you say.

“Morning,” he returns. “I didn’t even see you here, hiding.”

That’s the problem. Standing, sitting, no one notices you behind the double monitors.

“Big day, huh?” He asks.

You stare at him, confused for a moment.

“Yeah, Hansen was saying your sister starts today?”

“Right, uh, yeah,” you affirm. “Thanks, again. I really appreciated the referral.”

“You’re a hard worker,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hansen is a bit of a hard ass. I should’ve warned you.” He adds.

You nearly blurt out your first thought; look who’s talking.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine, she is your sister,” he remarks as his fingers curl around the corner of the desk. “Really kind of you to take her in.”

You don’t think you’ve ever spoken so much to Walker. Not since you asked him to put in a good word for Eva. Even then, he kept to his short replies and grunts.

“She’s family,” you say.

“Sure, but... I don’t know. Thought you would already have one of those,” he replies. You tweak a brow. “Kids, husband? I always sort of assumed...”

“A woman my age, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t... no, not because of that, I just... you’re very responsible.”

“Thank you, sir,” you shift on your soles. “I was just getting started on that Lafayette order.”

“Mmmm,” he hums and tilts his head. He drags his hand down his tie. He’s a big man. Most people are compared to you but he’s gargantuan. “Always working hard.”

“Yes, sir,” you look at your screen and click on the spreadsheet, changing the cell colour of the last completed order.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me,” he slaps the corner of your desk then struts off.

You stay focused on your screens. That was strange but you’re not stupid. He’s reminding you of his favour. He wants you to remember that you owe him. You’re sure you’ll be picking up overtime to pay him back.

Work rolls on. Dull, repetitive, but it pays the bills. You eat your oats at your desk as you make your way through the daily rota. You can’t help but notice Mr. Walker’s frequent trips to the break room. It tempts you to grab a coffee yourself as your eyes burn but you resist. You're trying to cut back on caffeine.

When the day ends, your protein bar sits beside the base of your monitor. You’re hungry but you can wait for supper. You sign off and lock your desk. You check your phone. No messages from Eva. Is that good or bad?

As you come into the overcast afternoon, the day weighs in your shoulders and hips. All day you can’t wait to be done but by the time you’re free, you’re exhausted. You dig out your keys and traipse along the row of bumpers to your car.

You hit the button to unlock the Honda and the roar of a motorcycle tears through the air. To your surprise, it only gets louder. You have the door open as its shadow rolls up behind your car. You throw your bags into the passenger seat and ignore it. That is until, the engine quiets and the steel beast doesn’t move from behind your vehicle.

Don’t tell me Eva hopped on someone’s bike. She would. A final act of rebellion before she surrenders to corporate purgatory. You look over, further disappointed by what really awaits you.

The man in leather undoes his helmet, vintage without a visor or anything. He tucks it under his arm and slides off his sunglasses. You recognise him. That’s not good.

His jacket is zipped to his chin but you’re certain that gold medallion hangs against his chest. It’s the same man as the night before. The one that was a little too late. How did he find you?

You shake your head and dip into the driver’s seat. Before you can close the door, his gloved hand is on it. He keeps it open as he steps up. You sigh.

“Sir, would you kindly move your bike?” You drone as you ram your keys into the ignition.

“Hey, doll, just wanna talk,” he says.

“I have somewhere to be,” you reach for the door and he steps closer, inserting himself so you couln’t close if you try.

You keep your eyes aimed at the windshield. Your other hand reaches for your purse. He clucks.

"Now, you don't gotta go calling anyone. Got a few buddies on the force I wouldn't mind catching up with but I'm being good," he steps back and shows his palms. "Just curious."

"I said I'm on my way somewhere--" you begin and grip the wheel.

"To get your daughter? You're a good mom--"

You stay silent. There's not much you can say that won't make this worse. It's none of your business. Piss off. A few choice epithets.

You search the brick wall ahead of you. Your heart beats faster and faster. No matter how you avoid men, they make themselves a problem.

You grab the shifter and crank it. You hit the gas and jerk backwards. You hit his bike and it crashes with a clatter. He let's go of the door as the door jars him.

"The fuck?" He exclaims.

You have just enough room to turn through the empty spot next to you. It's a deep spin of the wheel but you manage to redirect and roll past his bike.

As you swerve around and set the car straight, you glance over. He rubs his shoulder as he watches you, approaching his overturned bike with stunned steps. To your surprise, there's a big grin across his face.

Shit.

You stomp the pedal and tear out of the lot. You don't look as you turn into traffic and you squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. What the fuck!

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | January 20th-26th 2025

On time this week, woohoo! And less thsan 40 days until season 8B !!

Special mention to all of @tizniz's drabbles that I've been reblogging, which you can find on her tumblr or on ao3 at E & E: A Buddie Drabble Collection !

Let me know if I'm missing a tag for someone!

Complete

home is where you've called my name by atlasblue85/ @atlasblue85 (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 3K | General): Buck plays a game with himself. It goes something like this: for every house Eddie outright rejects, he adds an item to his list of why Eddie shouldn't move to El Paso. He doesn't know what the threshold is, that magic number that will make him finally speak up and express his thoughts to Eddie, but until he finds it, this is how he's coping. They're up to nine so far. Nine perfectly good houses, nine reasons Eddie shouldn't go.

you're a dog (i'm your man) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy (Dog Shelter AU | 3K | General): "Hey." He turns around, leans against the doorframe, tries to look casual. "Maybe, only if you're free of course, you could come round and let Chris pick out a band aid for you tonight. Don't want you bleeding out before you can get your Spider-Man band aid." Buck lights up like the fucking sun. Oh no. Eddie has one rule: never take a dog home. But he thinks Buck might be worth the risk. (OR: eddie is a dog trainer with patience, buck is a shelter worker with more bark than bite)

🔥 My Mouth Don't Move When I'm In Too Deep by taegyungie (PWP, Semi-Public Sex | 7K | Explicit): But here’s the thing: Eddie’s taken giant mouthfuls of life and chewed every last one of them up. He’s taken enough, he’s still taking enough - he doesn’t want to be the one to ask for it. All he can do is offer himself up, over and over, and hope that Buck will finally get the hint and dig his claws into what’s been his from the very start.

🔥 Five Years by aubrey_writes (Blip AU | 8K | Mature): Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence.

Liminal Space by ameliahart (NDE, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Eddie Diaz dies on a sunny afternoon in January. It seems fitting, he thinks, that it should happen like this: trapped beneath three floors of a collapsed apartment building, a piece of rebar through his right lung, and his eyes on the love of his life. Because of course Buck is here with him, watching horrified as Eddie’s love and life bleed out around him.

Buck, Bedbugged and Bewildered by writedontfight (Post-S8A AU | 8K | Explicit): Buck gets bedbugs, so he's staying at Eddie's until they're gone.

🔥 everything you need (put all you need in me) by jaekyu (PWP, FWB | 9K | Explicit): Eddie imagines it. The faux-domesticity of grocery shopping with his best friend and full-time fuckbuddy, filled up with come like a jam donut or something. It would be kind of ironic. It would be definitely, wholeheartedly, totally erotic.

My boy only breaks his favorite toys by paleredheadinascifi (Amnesia, Post-S8A | 10K | Teen): Eddie wakes up five years in the future. It turns out five years is all it takes to ruin a friendship and run your life into the ground. Or, Eddie gets hurt and his apparently now ex-best friend Buck hops on a plane to El Paso. They figure out what the fuck happened together.

🔥 Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Post-S7, Monster Eddie, HOH Buck | 61K | Explicit): When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 35/? | 23K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

35. 44. A goodbye kiss, but neither of you can quite let go 

🔥 An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-8x05: Masks, Cursed Buck | 1/6 | 8K | Mature): Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 12/? | 76K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 8/? | 37K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

Podfic

Sunlight is Fire (Burning is a Matter of Degrees) by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Incubbi Buck, FWB | 1-1.5h | Explicit): In the wake of Buck's leg injury, Eddie learns that his friend needs some unusual methods to help him recover. Eddie's willing to do whatever it takes to help Buck, and it's not like this could make his quiet pining any worse, right?

Bed Sharing Concerto in Monsterfucking No. 3 by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Human Buck, Only One Bed | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck has the worst fucking luck. His only consolation here is that Eddie’s with him, so at least he’s not alone in a cabin with no Wifi, no central heat, no cell service, and no proper winter gear. The water works, the pipes haven’t frozen (yet) so at least he can get briefly clean. He’s so focused on scrubbing the day away that it’s not until he gets out and heads into the bedroom that he realizes— There’s only one bed.

A Chorus of Howls by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolves, PWP | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck is running through the woods. He’s on two feet, four, two again, dodging around trees, kicking up dirt, leaping and landing hard. Behind him, sometimes, he thinks he can hear another set of feet—a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, black on black, shadow on shadow— There. There. He can smell his pursuer’s blood and he runs faster, fast as he can. He’s not going to lose. His blood is up and running and so is he.

Duet for Two Monsters by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Succubus Buck | 20-30min | Explicit): Buck’s been meaning to tell Eddie for a while, now. Especially now that they’re both single again. He needs to tell Eddie, because he’s pretty sure—he thinks he’s sure—that Eddie loves him back. And he won’t be intimate with Eddie without telling him. Of course, it’s a bit hard to start that conversation, on a logistical level. Hey so I have horns and a tail and feed off people’s orgasms, fun, right?

🔥 [Podfic] Buddie, It's Cold Outside by diazaster287 // fic by terranobis (Christmas, Hallmark AU | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): Big City businessman Evan Buckley travels to a small town Christmas Village in an attempt to save his personal and professional life, but when he meets the local father Eddie Diaz, he finds that he just might get the greatest present he could ever ask for.

[your-local-uwu-artist]

it was suggested I post this to the tags as well >:D

fuck it ima tag @transcendence-au as well because tbh I'm very proud of my silly little animation

some me being a nerd under the cut!

okay so this all started when I read the original post this was inspired by and though 'wouldn't it be silly to add some art to this 3 year old post?' but then I decided to animate it for funsies!

and gosh I sure do love animating!

So I got the base sketch and then got into the lineart animation for each component!

i don't have the sketches/wips saved at all sense this wasn't really a project and it took less than a day to complete. but here's a peak at the timeline

I animate entirely in my ususal drawing software: clip studio paint. It's just what's easiest for me.

all of these layers outside that folder are just the sparkles! after I finished I added some sparkles for fun! there's a lot of them because it involved a lot of copy and pasting sparkle layers

the bottom folders here are the wings body and facial expression! for everything like the wings arms and flags I was able to just copy paste, reverse, and then align the timing correctly in the timeline

one thing unique about this animation is that the lineart and colors are in separate layers! I tend to do line and colors on the same layer but this time I was using a brush that doesn't have the same lack of anti-aliasing and sense it's a small animation I wasn't as worried about keeping a minimum of layers like usual.

also the movement of the body is only 4 frames! and one one of those is just the hat shifting position

initially I wasn't going to have the second facial expression but when I got stuck on animating the flags I added the second facial expression while taking a break.

the arm animation is just 8 frames! honestly the only tricky part in this is the flags, everything else was pretty simple, which made it super fun to work on because I got both a challenge and mindless therapeutic drawing out of it.

NOW THE FLAGS there was 3 throw away attempts before I got it: you see the thing that made this tricky is finding the balance between believability and visual appeal. a big part of animation is creating the illusion of physics, this is the 'believability' part, I need these to look like flags that are moving and made of flat fabric, HOWEVER if I animate these one-to-one with realistic physics: it won't look good! I can't apply wind to the whole drawing because then the hair would have to react, and wind goes one way, and I wan't the flags to be pointing opposite directions. so without wind the flags would be laying down flat, but that won't look good at all! and furthermore realistic physics would have the flag not being all nice and front facing most of the time. so the trick here was figuring out how much physics to apply to make it look believable, while still making it look good.

one trick I did to help me animate the flags is I actually made a plan rectangle flag as a guide so that the general mass/volume of the flag would stay consistent, this is something i highly recommend when animating! like having a circle guide along a characters head to keep their height and proportions consistent.

after I finally found the balance with the flag lineart coloring wasn't too hard! sense I just had to follow the lines, and THANK GOODNESS the trans and aroace flag have the same number of stripes: saving me time!

and then it all comes together to make a satisfying perfectly looping bundle of cuteness >:DDD I feel like the tau fandom doesn't have as many artists with particularly cartoony/chibi art styles so I've gotta play my part in spreading the joy-whimsy-adorable-sillys >:D

anyway! hope you get to see a cool beetle today :D

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

2024 at a glance

Been inactive as I try to find more motivation. Thank you all for your patience.

This has been an exceptionally hard year for me. Lost loved ones, questioned life choices, and a mound of personal issues.

However, I want to focus on the positives. That's the tone I wanted for this blog. Specifically, let's look at my writing:

I want to shout-out all of my lovely mutuals. You guys are amazing. I've received so much joy from y'all's positive comments.

Specifically, @illarian-rambling beta read TSP to its end, and her comments were exceptionally helpful. I've made so much progress on TSP. Many new chapters, scenes, revelations - even helped with Part Two! I got much more drafted than I thought.

I have begun making the database of powers for Alii. Man, it's nowhere near done, but it exists and will be helpful eventually.

Alium has a calendar! Mainly a time and date system. I've made so many revelations about the world!

The amount of character revelations I've had from playing ask games and tag games is insane. Thank you everyone for helping me figure out more about my story even when you didn't intend it.

I did some background thinking for other WIPs. This is just really fun even if they're just ideas. I like expanding those ideas.

Also beginning planning for IWAJAD. That just is so awesome. I thought I'd finish TSP and SOTL first.

This was a good year for writing.

On here, I used to post, in spurts, twice a day because of my desperate need for validation... I'm trying to find validation and fulfillment elsewhere, without attempting to get people to notice me here. The break was largely for my mental health.

Still tag me and interact with me and maybe drop an ask - I love it so much. But I won't be posting as often as I used to so I can avoid falling into the habit of relying on notes and asks for a self-esteem boost.

Love all of you guys so much. Thank you for making this hard year better 💞

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

WIP Whenever

Thanks to @jemgirl86 for the tag. (You should know I actually considered tagging you back, because I seriously want to read more from that snippet you posted! 👀)

No pressure tagging: @questinwitchface @ineffable-snowman @sygoflyy (Seriously, no pressure, but I always like to see what you all have going!!)

So this one has been in the works for a bit, and it's been a tricky thing to make work, but I think I figured it out. I had hoped to make it a Christmas fic this past year, but real life got in the way and stole the majority of my writing time, so I got behind on my other stories. But here's a scene:

Bucky carefully closed the door behind him, pocketing his keys inside his worn leather jacket so they didn’t jingle and wake the entire household. Not that he needed to worry really. Nat—who he was convinced should be a spy or part of the CIA or some crap like that--was the only one of his pseudo-siblings shrewd enough to clock his random arrival in the dead of night. She didn’t live at Mama Sar’s anymore, so he was probably good.

No sooner did he have the thought that he was clear than he was tackled from behind, nearly knocked on his ass by his littlest sister, the one who showed affection with her elbows and fists rather than hugs. “Mother-forking shirtballs, Yels,” he grumbled, because there was absolutely no cussing at Mama Sar’s, so they’d all figured out ways to be creative through the years, Steve’s lingering obsession with The Good Place playing an active role.

“Got you! You did not hear me coming, did you?”

“No, but I sure as here felt you.” He dropped his bag to grab her, smiling when she stifled a cackle at the rough housing that was part of their sibling love language. Yelena’s stoic nature made every smile he jostled forth feel like a victory.

“Shhh,” she whispered dramatically when he had her hauled up like a sack of potatoes and was about to tip her over. As if she wasn’t the one who had started this mess. “You’ll wake Sam!”

“Sam?” He sat her down gently. She may have been able to kick most people’s ashes--Nat teaching her enough self-defense skills to have her ready for assassin school--but she was still his chosen baby sister. He followed her gaze to the well-formed lump taking up space on the family sofa. Thanks to the lights from the still-glittering Christmas tree he could surmise that Sam was an outrageously attractive Black man with stupid long lashes fanning over ridiculous cheekbones.

Bucky blinked. What else was he meant to do? “Who’s Sam?” He finally managed, eyes narrowing when he noted the slightest bit of stiffening underneath one of the quilts that Mama Sar lovingly made back when her hands would let her. The man made a noise and flipped over so that his back was now to them. Bucky was at least 85 percent sure the guy was faking sleep. Valid, since Bucky and Yelena were busy gawking at him like he was an art exhibit, which just had to be uncomfortable as fork for the dude. The new position came with a new distraction, Sam having pulled the quilt so that it wrapped around his waist, but his t-shirt rode up. Bucky wasn’t sure how one was supposed to survive that sliver of exposed back.

“Sam is Tony’s fiancé.” What?! Well, that was a forking bucket of icy water.

“No. That’s not Tony’s fiancé. Tony has a fiancé?”

“You didn’t know either?”

“Why would I know?”

Yelena’s baleful glare shifted from his face down to the high-tech prosthetic arm that had come courtesy of Stark Industries. And yeah, technically he had had more contact with Tony than the rest of his family. But that didn’t mean they talked about personal stuff or anything, the wall Tony had erected between himself and the Rogers-Barnes-Romanoff-Belova clan as high as ever. Bucky didn’t see it ever coming down. Forking Howard Stark. And now with the accident…

Bucky sucked in a breath, not going there. They would figure this out. They always figured things out. “I didn’t know,” he answered instead.

“Sam is the best. You will love him,” Yelena said decisively, the words a ringing endorsement from someone distrustful by nature.

“Hmm. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll stay the night.”

“Do not eat my cereal.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bucky lied, already picturing the big bowl of Lucky Charms he was going to strategically pour just as Yelena entered the kitchen in the morning. Messing with one’s sister was a big brother’s prerogative.

As she pushed him toward the stairs, he cast one last look at the lump on the couch, his gaze lingering on the stockings spread across the mantle. The same ones that Mama Sar hung every year. This year, beside Tony’s there was a new stocking. One hastily done with golden glitter in elegant cursive that said ‘Sam.’

[eusuntgratie]

2025 wips

thank you for the tag @anincompletelist <3

i am a perpetual too-many-wips disaster so i'm always grateful for an opportunity to lay out what i'm working on.

malex pretty woman au (roswell new mexico)

my next big project is the malex pretty woman au. alex is the rich, detached businessman, michael is captivating in tiny blue shorts and thigh high boots. do you see the vision? i need to make a banner and pick a title!

(i make ONE comment to @bigassbowlingballhead about craving a certain type of fic and suddenly i'm being enabled into my next longfic 🙃). i am genuinely so excited about this one. i've got about 5k written and the whole fic is plotted. i'm thinking this will be in the 25-30k range? maybe? honestly jon is better at estimating my word counts than i am so who knows. still not sure if i'll finish writing this one and then edit and post chapter by chapter or what i'll do, but i think i'll be able to get this one up this year.

firstprince exes (rwrb)

if i have another big project in me i would LOVE to finish my outsider pov firstprince exes fic. i love love love this weird little fic but it is a real challenge to write.

sequels & additional chapters

part 3 of conformation (rnm) will be just alex and michael after their fun with maria at the club. maybe alex will make good on his idea of tying michael up and seeing how much he can take. i could write millions of words of sub!michael please do not tempt me.

chapter 3 of after hours (first prince/rwrb) aka mechanic alex will be alex and henry's first date.

one shots

come back inside is a malexa morning after the airstream scene fic...what if michael convinced alex to stay? this is probably more than half written. malexa my beloved 😍

hunting guide au (tknp, men's hockey rpf). tk hires pat for a guided hunt with his young daughter.

these might not happen 😐

shadow is a buddie fic that was gonna be a big bang fic (which will never happen) but i *could* finish and post the first few chapters as a one shot. featuring baby eddie having his mind blown by a slightly older, extremely gay buck at a college party while visiting his sister.

i wanna be adored is an elliott/marco, marco gets dropped into crystal valley fic that i've written about 5k for but can't quite get to do what i want. when i started writing it there were no kissingchambers fics, but there are lots now! so if you like them you should probably just read those bc this bad boy probably won't see the light of day even though i've got about 5k written.

dumotanger omegaverse college au (men's hockey rpf) - y'know i really love this one and i am unhinged about dumotanger but i think there's just something missing here that i haven't been able to figure out. i'd love to finish it if i do though! i've got maybe 3k written.

okay those are the ones with something significant written. i have LOTS of other abandoned wips and ideas, plus i always like to do some kind of short prompt series. i haven't done femslash february in a while so maybe i could write a few ficlets for that? maybe do some shuffle prompts again? hmmm. we'll see, we'll see.

my askbox and dms are always open for questions about my fic, wips, ideas, etc. <3

open tag for anyone with wips they wanna share!!!

[liminalmemories21]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @screamlet (who I've been reading since at least 2010). Thank you!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 48

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 711,517

3. What fandoms do you write for? 911 LS, and 911

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Long Story Short (series) - LS A home isn't always the house we live in - LS It came without ribbons! - LS Always Wear Your Invisible Crown - LS Awful quiet here since love fell asleep - 911

5. Do you respond to comments? I really try to, sometimes I think they get lost in my inbox, but I do try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uh, none of them? I don't think I've written anything that doesn't have a happy ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? hmmm, maybe It came without ribbons?, or Knave 4 (The Knave of Clubs ... swears he'll take her part). They both end in marriage proposals.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Just a few on Knave 4, which I expected and mostly ignored.

9. Do you write smut? more often than I ever imagined I would

10. Do you write crossovers? I love a good crossover. Haven't written one yet, but would enjoy it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. Let's keep it that way. (finger's crossed)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup! All the 911 stuff with @cecilyv - nothing better.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Well, I don't publish WIPs, not because I have an ethical stance on it, but because I'm usually still changing things at the beginning right up until I hit post and I don't understand how people post things as they write them. Not my process.

That being said, there's a LS kidfic that I'd like to finish some day, but every time I look at it I can't figure out where it's going.

16. What are your writing strengths? I feel like this is a thing other people need to tell me? Dialogue? Plot (apparently? or so 200,000 words of Knave-verse would like me to believe).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? brevity

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd like to do more of it, because I have characters I write who I think probably do think in another language, but it's not a language I speak, so I don't.

19. First fandom you wrote for? published? Lonestar. unpublished? there's a Merlin story @cecilyv and I wrote for years that is mostly not great, but has it's moments.

20. Favorite fics you've written? ooh, okay:

There were a bunch I wrote early for LS that are kind of character studies that I love - A home isn't always the house we live in (Judd), Stitched with its color (TK & 9/11), and through same of am through haves of give (Enzo)

And, I'd be lying if I didn't say Knave-verse, because I think Knave 2 and Knave 4 are the best things I've ever written - and there is just so much of me in the way TK thinks about art.

And then Baggage That Goes with Mine - because there isn't necessarily me in there, but there is a lot of my history in fandom and the huge cultural shift that I have seen happen since I started reading fic in Tommy's story. Also, I do love me a split timeline narrative.

tagging @walkinginland, @rmd-writes, @alchemistc, @rcmclachlan, and @three-drink-amy

[thatonebirdwrites]

"Promise" WIP Fics

Oh hey, an ask game, sort of! Thanks for the tag @luthordamnvers

I have too many WIPs. I'll do around 3 or 4 Supercorp and 2 Original fiction. Enjoy!

Link to Original Post.

Near the end of Act 3 for Unraveling Realities:

A sonic boom echoes in the air and the trees whip back and forth at the passage of a human-like bullet. A figure in black hovers in the air above her, the violet energy crackles around her form, and the sun dims from the grey fog.

“Lena.” The voice doesn’t even sound like Kara. The accent thick and not quite like Red Daughter’s. Lena isn’t entirely sure who came — Power? Red Daughter? Some other personality that Kara has hidden away?

“Hi.” Lena attempts a smile. “Will you come down to talk?”

“Who do you call, Lena?” The Kara-like person drifts closer. Her eyes glow a deep violet. “Kara? Do you truly think she exists still?”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words. To whom am I speaking then?”

Violet lightning sparks in her hands, but she floats closer, her feet nearly touching the ground. “Who I am is not important. My deeds speak for me.”

She’s almost close enough. “Everyone has a name,” Lena says with a hint of flirtation in her voice. That tone always got Kara to blush in the past. “If you’re so shy, I can promise not to tell anyone.” She leans closer and holds out a hand.

A faint pulse of her magic tickles her palm from deep within Kara’s body.

________________

Floor is Lava (writing it with @nottawriter)

“So you know Kelly Olsen? I’m buddies with her through work contacts. She is the fiance of Alex Danvers. I’ve only met Alex a few times, but I think she might have a sister. I don’t recall her name though."

“Huh. If they’re related, then dang, what a small world we live in.” Lena chose the dark violet thread for the shirt. If she was going to mend it, she might as well stitch fun patterns for Lori. She loved the designs Lena came up with. It was a fun hobby that kept her hands busy. Especially as she promised her therapist she’d not work on her days off. That wasn’t an easy task. Already her mind was drifting back toward some of the architect projects she was working on with colleagues.

“It’d be awesome if so! So when is this date? What’re you going to wear? Where’re you going?”

Lena laughed at Sam’s eagerness. “Sam! We haven’t decided on that. Kara suggested it, but she had to head out to her next client I presume. She said she’d call.” Part of her was worried that Kara wouldn’t call her. That maybe it was too much of a dream come true. A beautiful woman who was good with Lori? Who seemed kind and generous?

________________

Where Do We Go From Here? (Worldkiller Kara, still debating how to end this one, but it'll eventually go onto AO3):

"I need to be locked up." A hopelessness coats her voice. She turns and winces at the shattered table and microscope. Zips forward, and before Lena can say a word, she stands in the center of the room with the power dampening handcuffs. "Please, put this on me."

Lena winces as she pushes herself off the floor. Each step feels like a mile, her body aching from the attack prior. She doesn't want to do this, but what she just experienced has made it clear Kara isn't safe right now.

She takes the cuffs and looks at Kara. "I promise you I’ll fix this," she says, firmly. "You and Sam are going to get through this alive, okay?" She clips the dampeners over Kara's wrists and adjusts the settings to its max. "I won't stop until you're both cured."

Kara smiles, sadly. "I know. I trust you."

_________________

Anamchara (I posted the start of this on Tumblr in response to an ask by someone, but am still working on it off and on. Full story will eventually go on AO3):

"Yes," Lena replied, which Kara dimly noted answered none of her questions. Turning toward the bar again, Lena tapped the counter three times.

The bartender walked over with a smile, their blue skin glistened with sweat, and in their six-fingered hand, they cleaned a glass. "We'd like the Anamchara please."

The bartender narrowed their eyes. "You sure about that? Pretty permanent stuff."

Lena waved her hand. "I've heard the rumors that it’s magic to find one’s soulmate. I promise you I’ve researched this thoroughly." She gently touched Kara's arm. "Companion here agreed, right darling?"

Kara nodded. "Sure thing. Let's do the Anamchara." She downed the rest of her rum, her brain even foggier.

And that was the last thing Kara remembered.

_________________

Original Fiction: Telemores (set in Elivera world; note that Mǔmoshǔ's pronouns are vi/vir/vis):

“Must say this case boggled my mind,” Visikar admitted. “Never heard of stealing energy to ‘ascend,’ which still makes no sense to me. Were they trying to be immortal?”

“Perhaps.” Vi thought through past cases. Ability abuse was one of their specialties and often why vi got transferred to a new city or town to assist local justice councils. Most cases were never this dire. “Must review Anata’s notes to see her definition. Let us hope there is not more like her.”

Visikar frowned and took a swig of her alcoholic drink. “We’ll find them if there are.”

Mǔmoshǔ listened to the quiet hum of muffled conversation from the other stalls, the wooden walls between each table not quite thick enough to muffle all sound waves. “Visikar, ready to honor your promise? Tale of the statue in garden?” Mǔmoshǔ took a sip of the Niaz tea.

Visikar smiled. “Sure can.”

__________________

Original Fiction: Dragios Twins: The Lost Ones (from Chapter 1):

She pressed her forehead against my shoulder. Her silence made me more and more scared. She was thinking about death again. I was sure of it.

"Kia, please."

She lifted her head. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you will find the truth." Anxiety clutched my stomach at her words. "Just… I want to help. Because so much don't add up. Your Mom. Her sister. All those secrets they got. And that specialist. Oh, gosh, this weird music and our synced dreams. We're gonna need a list for it all." Kia shook her head. "I'm not saying this well."

"Don't." I protested. "You're better. Remember no negative self-talk?"

Kia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes this time. "My biggest supporter. I'm in remission, sure. But I didn't wanna say, but my check-up Friday was odd. Sure, doctor said it was possibly nothing, but something has 'em rankled. Secrets again." She laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it.

________________________

And that's it for now. I have a few other original fiction works I'm working on, but funnily enough they didn't have the word promise in them. Huh.

I'm not sure who to tag that hasn't already been tagged. I guess no-pressure tags for: @nottawriter, @kj-yikes @s-nebul0sa @sssammich and anyone else who'd like to play.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

First fic tag game 📖

Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

@katyawriteswhump thank you for tagging me!!

The first fic I ever wrote was Tiger Club (ao3). I wrote it in a fit, like I was straight up purging it from my soul. Didn't look at it for almost four months out of embarrassment. Then went back, fixed it up, and had never felt prouder. Still took me a while to actually work up the courage to post the damn thing, but I'm happy I did. I love this fic to death <3 It got me to where I am now.

Here's a snippet from the original, unedited draft (below the cut)

Today is Friday, which means they should be sitting in their corner booth shoving nachos in their faces, drinks in hand, and complaining about their love lives. But here he is, standing outside next to the jungle gym at 4pm waiting for the last two kids to be picked up by their dad.  Go figure the guy’s late. Again. According to Chrissy this "Steve" has been late to pick up his twins from Tiger Club every day this week. Does he not realize that teachers have lives? It Friday for shits sake and he's hungry and he needs a smoke and-  "Chris, this is ridiculous. Detention ends at 3:30, same as Tiger Club. Are we just supposed to let this guy get away with this?" Eddie's fingers twitch towards the vape he has stashed in his coat pocket. Obviously he doesn't smoke in front of the little tykes, but they're supposed to be gone by now.  "Eddie just relax ok? He's a nice guy and it sounds like he's got a chaotic job." She gives him a reassuring smile, knocking her elbow into his side. "Don't worry we'll get some salsa in you and you'll be good as new," she snarks.

No pressure tags!

@carolperkinsexgirlfriend @runninriot @augustjustice @steviewashere @pearynice

[theeccentricraven]

The 10th Day of Writemas🎅🤶🎄❄️⛄🔔

Welcome to another day of Writemas thanks to @agirlandherquill💚🤍❤️This is a tag game/writing challenge/writing prompt of her brilliant doing 🎶The rules of the tag game are here

For today's prompt I picked a lake. I decided to switch works and take advantage of this to write out a scene for my WIP Sanctuary Calling, another YA Dystopia. I realized this was the golden opportunity to write a key scene where my MC 14 year old Nari is stranded in the middle of Lake Erie on a mostly abandoned earth 😮This is the first time I started drafting for Sanctuary Calling as I was holding off drafting to first do some more research. I figured I might as well start here. This is not Chapter 1 but much further right after the Inciting Incident/Catalyst. If you're curious about the setting and what's going on, I have a post here on the world building and story of Sanctuary Calling.

_____________________________________________________

The lake is real. I shouldn’t be here. I sit in the shallow water of my raft, alone with only the pile of supplies. A sharp pain bites my leg. I don’t pay attention to the pain as I watch the escape pod sink into the dark waters along with the shuttle. There goes Etienne. I’m crying. I cry over someone who I knew for only a few hours who pretty much sacrificed himself for me. A stranger. People who truly know him, a mother and father with kin far away on Phobos, are mourning him without his body. To think that my parents could already be mourning me….

 I shake violently. I shiver. There is nothing but endless water surrounding me. The gray clouds hang low from above. I think about the classroom simulation where I sat in a shaky rowboat in the middle of a lake. The sunshine and green forests were beautiful, but motion sickness overwhelmed me. Back there, I only needed to ask the AI to turn off the simulation. I returned to the wide empty room and detached the nerve stimulators. Not here. I can’t just tell the AI to turn off everything around me. I’m so cold, I wrap my arms around myself. I can’t tell the AI to warm up the room. There was no room. The water below me is real. And it looks deep. The simulator would never drown me. I hug my life jacket.

At least my suit still functions.  

“Jin,” I say to my AI, “turn on the thermal unit.”

Instead of hearing Jin’s assuring alto voice, I hear static. My suit still works. The sleeves warm my limbs. I breathe out some relief as I slowly feel warmer inside. My heart is racing. How long will my suit last? The battery will run out. Imagining earth as the empty paradise of wilderness according to my studies, I see little hope in finding battery cells. There aren’t any solar panels on earth, are there? Then again, the Tenders need electricity whenever they make their annual drops on earth. 

My heart lifts for a moment. Could there be Tenders on earth now? Someone who could rescue me? My sinks again when I think of how Luana and her people must have picked a time of year when none of the WC would be on earth. Whatever she and her toadies plan to do.   

The pain nipping at my left leg, like little sharp thorns puncturing my calf, starts to get on my nerves. I look down. A long slimy black thing bites my calf. Apparently I hadn’t noticed a hitchhiker grasping me during my brief swim. I scream. It could be a humongous leech. I heard about them inhabiting some of earth’s murky fresh waters. Then again, the thing sinking its teeth into my leg is too big to be a leech. I grab its tail and pull. Its teeth dig deeper. I grab its head. I pull harder. I pry the little monster off, leaving a deep bite mark in the back of my calf. Its mouth resembles a suction cup with rows of sharp teeth. I toss it in the air. I never had that good of a throw, but I had to have tossed it at least a dozen meters. I look down at my bleeding calf. 

“Jin,” I say, “can you please initiate healing?” 

At this point, I feel I need to plea for Jin’s artificial life to keep going.

“Initiated,” says a fuzzy, static voice that at least proves Jin is running. For now. 

The back of my leg feels warmer as the healing starts. The nanobots in my suit speed up my body’s healing process. My skin gradually closes over the wounds. I feel better already. Then I also face the reality that if Jin stops working, I’ll have no way to heal if I get injured.

Assuming I get somewhere other than the middle of Lake Erie. 

“Jin, what was that thing? The thing that caused the wound?”

Jin came in broken. “Bite marks indicate you were bit by a sea lamprey.”

Sea lamprey. Sea lamprey.

I remember the classroom lessons and simulations where I interacted with animals from earth. There was freshwater life. Then there was ocean life.“What’s an ocean fish doing in the lake?”

Jin made beeping noises. “There is a large population here in Lake Erie. Historical archives say they are an invasive species. Their numbers likely skyrocketed when humans left earth.”

I don’t understand. “But the Tenders are supposed to care for the earth, including controlling the numbers of earth animals. I thought they were preventing invasive species from increasing their numbers.”

“I have no data on why the population in the lake is so high.” Jin sounded disappointed.

I have to move on. I’m bummed that the raft has no motor. At least I have the oars. Where to from here? 

“Jin, how could I get to the ruins of New York from here?”

A holographic image appears in front of me. A map shows my location, Lake Erie. The map draws a yellow line for the path and lists locations by their pre-Sanctuary names. I would have to go up the Erie canal, cross Lake Ontario, go up the Lawrence River, go down to Lake Champlain, and then down the Hudson River. It's more than 200 kilometers long.  

I put what muscle remains in my arms into pushing the oars. I peer at the horizon. I make out the outline of something in the distance. 

“Jin, what is directly south of me?”

I hear only static. If I lose Jin, I’m toast. Then the staticy voice speaks. 

“Directly south are the ruins of Cleveland.” Jin sounds oddly chirpy. 

“Are any of the Tenders present in the area?”

Jin makes some beeping noises. “I’m afraid I can’t tell. My data indicates that information is classified.”

“Classified?”

“The WC does not reveal their coordinates. They keep that classified to protect the Caretakers from intruders.”

“What does that mean?”

“If the exact locations of the WC Tenders were known, enemies could use that info to find weak spots without WC presence and make unauthorized returns to earth. This would endanger the Caretakers.”

Of course. The Tenders keep their locations secret so that Luana’s little rebel group or their adult masterminds couldn’t find them and isolate them. 

To have any hope of leaving this lake of death, I have to go somewhere. I could go up the mapped route of lakes and rivers to get to Luana’s group in New York (and give them a piece of my mind). But will I be any safer? Luana’s promises of revolution seem like a delusion now. I don’t care about her revolution. I just want to survive. Not knowing the Liberator’s plans and stations, I supposed more of their people could be in Cleveland. If not, could the Tenders or Peace Arms at least be there?

I don’t care if I get arrested and sent to a WC prison. If I need to do that to escape this lake of leech fish, I’ll take my chances. 

“Jin, show me the path to Cleveland.”  

________________________________________________________

Tagging!

@sunflowerrosy @furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill

@revenantlore @whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @constellationandcompendium @olivescales3

@ryns-ramblings @primroseprime2019 @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @kitty-is-writing

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@apolline-lucy @elizaellwrites @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @ddgraywrites @autism-purgatory @mxxnwishes

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark @sleepywriter00 @americanfemcel @fairy-tales-of-yesterday

@inkednotebook @the-letterbox-archives @laureleavess @simonnebethel @forthesanityofsome

@melpomene-grey @creatrackers @stephtuckerauthor @theink-stainedfolk

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @late-to-the-fandom

and Open!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I just need to work on this. About an hour before it's ready," Jensen closes up the laptop and tucks it under his arm. You lurch up. 

"Why don't you stay out here?" You ask. 

"You're fine. I gotta find the accessories," he insists. "Uh, thanks, Thor. You can come back in a bit. It'll be waiting." 

"Certainly," the large blond agrees. "I might browse a while. Oh, and I saw a cafe across the way." 

"It's not too bad. She loves it," Jensen points at you with his thumb. "Anyway, better get to it." 

He slinks away and you turn back to your computer. What a bum. Leaving you alone with a giant. 

You flutter your fingers over your keyboard and pretend to be focused. How can you with him standing right there? The tension is enough to peel your skin off. 

"My diamond in the rough," he purrs, "I've looked all over for you." 

You blink and hesitate. You still your hands and peek up at him. "Are you talking to me?" 

He chuckles, "of course, I am, my queen." 

"Um, do... I know you?" 

His smile lines deepen and he angles his chin coyly, "you are rather cute, but I've waited far too long for games." 

You shiver, "I don't know what you mean." You gulp, your throat locking up. 

"sparklingdiamond@gmail," he says. "That's you." 

You shake your head, "that's a cute email but it's not mine." His smile falls and he steps closer, his large hands on the edge of the counter. You shrink down on the stool. You shrug. "Sounds like maybe you got catfished. That's... not cool. And they used my name? Weird." 

He exhales and leans in slowly, "Queens don't lie." 

You give a sheepish smile, "huh?" 

His eyes set and his jaw squares, "you blocked me." 

"I said that wasn't me--" 

"Cease your lying. It is not true," he sneers. "My queen, I forgive you. I do. I know, it is scary. Our love is so strong and you are young. It is much to balance but together, we will figure it out." 

You crumble. You're not good at lying. Not in real life. Only online. And that's what you did. You didn't mean any of the things you said to him. You said them to half a dozen other guys. Yet, you can't say that to his face. Look at him. 

Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You don't know what to do. You can't breathe or think. 

"My queen, please, do not cry," he reaches for you and you squeal. He grabs your shoulders and hushes you, "please, I cannot bear the sight of your tears." 

"Thor," you babble, "please. I can't--" 

"Why not?" He cooes, "do you not love me?" 

He squeezes and your tears evaporate. He's so strong and big and... a criminal. Oh god. 

"I'm not ready. I'm too young. Like you said. I... I... I'm living at my parents. Didn't I say? They'd never approve so we can't be together." 

"You will leave. Come with me and I will find you the perfect castle. My queen..." 

You shiver and pout, "no, Thor, I can't do that." 

"Why not? This is what you always wanted. You wrote it in your emails." 

His desperation roils from his grizzly timbre. Your chest racks and your nerves stir. You open and close your mouth dumbly. 

"Well, um, you..." you force out your breath. "You would have to wait. Um, right. Wait for me. A little longer?" 

He stares at you. His eyes are a gentle shade of blue, much softer than the rest of him. His hair is mostly down, with some of the front drawn back into a thick braid, the silver shanks shining between the gold. He has much more gray than even your stepdad. 

"Wait?" He rubs his thumbs against your shoulders. He might lift you right over the counter if he wished too. "I hate to do more of that, but for you, I would do anything." 

You swallow and let out a willowy breath. You move stiffly and brush your hands down his forearms. You ease his grip from your shoulders. 

"I'm working though so you can't touch me," you let him go. He nods and his mouth turns down to a mope. 

"Forgive me. I would not think to spoil it," he wrings his large hands. "But now I will have my own computer and we can talk. Though, we will be together in the flesh and mightn't need it so much." 

You nod, choked speechless by his insinuation. 

"When are you done, my queen?" He spreads one hand over his stomach and hooks his other thumb in the loop of his jeans. 

"In two hours," you answer. 

"Two hours. My new device will be ready by then. I will return and you will come to the coffee shop across the street. I would like to buy you your favourite treat," he grins. "A cinnamon bun." 

You fight to keep from babbling. Why did you send him that picture? Why did you call him? This is all a mess and worse, you made it! 

The world dissolves around you. Your ears ring and your mouth turns pasty. You cough and hide your shaking hands. 

"Sure," you croak. "But I should keep working." 

"Yes, my queen," he booms. "I shall wait on your grace." 

He blows you a kiss and your eyes zero back to reality. You sway on the stool and watch him stroll out, whistling with a bounce in his step. You stare after him, your brain fuzzy as if you've been slapped across the face. 

💗

"How about you go ahead, Jensen? I'll lock up today," you offer as you close up your laptop. 

"You sure?" 

"Why not? Maybe if you get started early, you won't be up all night with your Playstation," you kid, though you struggle to summon a laugh. 

“You might be right,” he grumbles.  

You try not to fidget as he packs up. You check the windows for any sign of Thor. You really don’t know how to explain leaving with him, so it’s better there are no witnesses. 

“Alright, see ya,” Jensen hikes up his knapsack, most of it covered in various pins and patches; from Pokemon to Halo. 

“Yep, see ya,” you rock on the stool impatiently. 

When he’s gone, you exhale deeply but find no relief. You close your laptop and slip it into your bag. There’s no point trying. You can’t concentrate. 

Instead, you go through the closing list. At least that way, you’re moving around. Just as you lock the till, the door opens. Thor’s voice rolls like thunder across the shop. 

“My queen,” he booms hopefully.  

You smile at him sheepishly. It’s strange, for as big and terrifying as he is, there’s something very puppy dog about him. It’s horrifyingly deceiving. 

“Almost done,” you assure him as you turn and grab the zip up laptop case with the short handles. “Here’s your computer.” 

You bring it to the counter as he approaches. You slide it over and he narrows his eyes, “did you forget... our date?” 

“No, just, don’t want you to forget it,” you assure him. “I’ll grab my things.” 

You put your bag up on the counter and take the keys off the hook under the till. Thor grabs your things before you can retrieve them. He beams as you melt beneath his constant gaze. 

“A king never lets his queen carry such a burden,” he assures, both bags in his hand. 

“Right, I need to the alarm and lock the door,” you explain. 

“Ah, yes, I should not like to be caught with a tripped alarm,” he chuckles. 

He holds the door for you from the outside. You quickly key in the cod and step onto the pavement. He shuts it and your lock up. You tuck the keys into your crossbody purse. You look at the front of his flannel but can’t make the climb up to his face. 

“Let us go enjoy our treats,” he offers his arm. 

You gulp and reluctantly slip your hand into the crook of his elbow. He takes you toward the curb and check the traffic. He guides you across. A man like him doesn’t need all his strength, just the sight of him is enough to bend you to his will. 

Your pulse races and thrums through your skull. There is no escape but your heart keeps clutching with hope. All you can do is hope that he doesn’t hurt you. No, you can make sure he doesn’t. By playing along. 

You enter the cafe. It feels like everyone is staring at you but that’s just paranoia buzzing in your ears. No one cares. Even if they did notice the much older, much bigger man and the terrified looking girl with too many curves. There’s all sorts in this world. 

“Let me serve you, my queen,” he guides you to a table first, “you will sit and ease yourself after a long day.” 

Aimless, you sit. You turn and clasp your hands over the table, staring at the wood. You sniff, “thank you.” 

“Anything you please,” he bends and kisses your head. You quiver. “Now, what should you like with your bun?” 

“Erm.... just...” you blink and shrug. You can’t handle any caffeine. You’re already jittering. “The, uh, blackberry cream.” 

“Hm, sounds rather intriguing, you shall have it,” he proclaims. 

He strides away and you shudder. You turn your face out the window. Your purse vibrates. You blindly unzip it and slide out your phone. You cradle it but don’t check the message. 

Heck. What did you do? Why couldn’t you just seek validation through fanfiction or fantasy shows? Why did you have to do something so friggin real? 

Panic swelters over you and has you squirming. You set your phone down and twiddle your fingers over the screen. You take a sharp breath and blow it out slow. 

“My queen,” Thor appears. He places a plate before you with a gooey bun and a cup with a purplish concoction. You smile and mouth a thank you. Your voice is gone. “A moment.” 

He holds up his finger and flees again. Not for long as he returns with his own bun and a small espresso cup, made smaller by his sheer size. You make yourself sit straight as you feel yourself growing faint. 

“Apologies, I do hate to keep you waiting,” he sits, dwarfing the chair beneath him. You didn’t know they made men in that size. 

You shake your head, “it’s... alright.” 

“You are so gracious, my queen,” he praises. “Please, enjoy.” 

You look down at the bun. You slide your phone away and pinch the outer ring of the bun. You peel it away, the smell of cinnamon turning bitter in your nose. You bite into it and nearly gag. The sweetness is soured by your reality. 

“Good,” you cover your mouth as you chew. 

“Delicious,” he purrs then leans in, “though I dare say not so delicious as you.” 

Your eyes widen and meet his. He smirks and his cheeks tinge red above his beard.

“Forgive me. I was locked away so long and only thoughts of my beloved saved me.” He leans back and licks icing off his knuckle, holding your gaze. You can’t decide if he’s just messy or something else. “And now I have a reason to stay out.” 

“Right...” you grab your drink to drown your whimper. Your brain is in overdrive yet it’s glitching. You can barely think. 

The phone vibrates and his eyes flick down. You follow his attention to your phone. ‘Missed messages; Andy’. Shoot. 

Thor huffs and shifts, “Andy...” he drawls. “Another man?” 

You flinch and shake your head, realising his suspicion. You wipe your fingers on a napkin, “my stepdad. That’s all.” 

“Yes, I... yes, it makes sense,” he accepts crisply. “For you told me you never... had another.” 

“I said that,” you squeak. “Yeah, uh, well, I haven’t so...” 

You tremble and stuff more bun into your mouth to keep from falling apart. He looks at you again and smiles, his face lining with the years between you. He leans in once more, “but I can be gentle, my queen. And Patient. As I have been.” 

[the-gateway-to-madness]

First fic tag game! Thanks for the tag @smokefurball :3

Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

Gaylen. Can I even FIND... oh mAN. Uhhhh let's see if I can find the oldest Tales of Arcadia piece I still have saved.

Oh it's old. Okay. But also the only time I've ever really written a dark timeline corruption arc vibe for Cara! ... please keep in mind i have had years of practice since this

You need to be more careful about how you treat other people. If you never see anyone else, you'll never see that some people have gifts in their hands they're happy to give… and that others already have their weapons out in plain sight.

Old advice, advice offered months ago, and yet Krel found himself reassessing it as the guards around him forced him to his knees.

Some sort of time-travel nonsense had ensued, and he was somehow back on Akiridion- the Akiridion of the future, it seemed. Sitting before him on what had been his mother and sister's throne, looking down at him disdainfully… was Cara.

A much older Cara, that is. This Cara had an elaborate headdress with sharp shapes and dark colors designed to intimidate, dramatic and shadowy-seeming makeup that made her nearly unrecognizable, and extravagant black capes and draperies to display her wealth.

She looked him over. "So it's really you," she said, sounding disgusted. "You were so small. I'd forgotten."

"What… what happened?" Krel managed, trying to figure out how the timeline had twisted this way.

"You did," Cara narrowed her eyes. "Your arrogance, your selfishness, your blindness. You threw everyone aside for your own empty self-aggrandizing. You threw me aside when you tired of me pointing out your flaws. You threw Aja aside when she pointed out that wasn't a good idea." 

Cara raised an eyebrow. "Mistakes that cost your older self his life."

Krel gaped silently. She'd had him killed???

"Put him in the cells. With any luck it'll break Aja's mind even further," Cara ordered the guards.

Krel flinched a little as the soldiers grabbed him. Aja was falling apart too, and that was probably his fault as well.

"You wanted so badly to influence other people, little prince," Cara reflected, tone mocking, as the guards dragged him out a side door. "To leave your mark on everyone. Did you get your wish, Tarron? Everyone remembers you. Was it worth it? Are you proud?"

[kaiowut99]

Johan Speaks! 🗣🔊💎 | Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V TFSP Re-Translation Project (WIP)

(Project announcement video/post)

Good news, everyone! 🧓🏽

So, thanks to chrisfand and I doing some digging over on a Tag Force modding Discord over the past 1.5-2 weeks (chrisfand's been around doing various TF-related mods, and after I saw some discussion about doing this, I got curious and swallowed a bit by a rabbit hole), we've figured out how to add spoken in-duel dialogue back to those who weren't given any! Likely one of the more disappointing things about how TFSP cut corners compared to the earlier games (while still fun of course), only the 25 characters with story events across each series's world gets spoken in-duel dialogue out of the box--and in digging through the file that boots the game/runs a bunch of code/has a bunch of text like the character names (the EBOOT file), we found that, rather than some deeper code setting a flag for enabling the others from Yugi and Shou in DM and GX all the way to Yuto and Shun in ARC-V and the TF/WDC-exclusives to have voices, there are hex pointer bytes for each character pointing to where the game should find their respective voice folder path on the disc to store in memory and then load the audio files from, and they were simply set to some empty space for everyone who's not the primary 25 (with folder paths for them not included). Finding some space in the Eboot to write in the folder paths for everyone, and starting with Johan as a test, I updated Johan's pointer accordingly and the game properly loads the voice pack I set up for him!

[More on that below, but tl;dr current plan is still getting the base game re-translated as-is while also setting up for a "deluxe" version with all this added in after that along the way]

For Johan's voicelines here, I pulled audio mostly from Tag Force 3 and tried to stick as close to his Japanese in-duel lines here as doable, but some lines are different vs TF3, so I pulled from Duel Links or Duel Terminal voicelines as needed (for example, Johan's duel-starting line about wanting to see his opponents' best [said to Judai in GX 106] here doesn't include the bit about "using up our skills/that's the kind of dueling I go for!" and instead his text is just the first part and then "Let me see the power you've got in ya!", but being the closest to what that is, I used that line. I also added his attack line with Rainbow Dragon near the end, figuring out how his line parameter file works and grabbing audio from Duel Terminal for it (how did he not already have an "Over the Rainbow!!" line), and while not shown here, there's his loss line, "People like you being out there's why I can't stop dueling!", which I grabbed from two Duel Links lines and edited to combine them into one file. There'll likely be similar editing involved for compiling voice packs for everyone else (and grabbing WDC and even maybe Wheelie Breakers audio, as apparently a handful of people like Himuro in 5D's were non-duelable in earlier TF games--for everything else, I'll probably scrape the anime, which I did here because, fun fact, Johan has in-duel lines for a "hehehehe" [heard in the video's cold open] and "hahahahah!" but he doesn't have audio in TF3 saying them; these being callbacks to his and Judai's duel vs Fujiwara, I grabbed the lines in question from GX 175 and ran them through Ultimate Vocal Remover to solid results). Leveling the volume some wil likely also be needed since, while I did my best with Johan's lines here, they are a bit quieter in spots than they probably should be. We also want to look at adding the newly-voiced characters to the Voice Test list so that comes up in the Database for them, but that'll be a later thing.

SO. All that being said, currently the plan's still to go on with getting the base game re-translated as-is, while setting things up for a later "deluxe" version. Along with voices/all there, I'll likely also want to add in lines for the different summon methods that GX-ZEXAL characters don't have (those get stock "I Special-Summon a Monster!" lines) and edit their voice packs accordingly with them. But some neat progress here (even briefly picked up assembly language thinking it might be needed lol). Stay tuned!

[kcscribbler]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the ever-early @elodiah.

I'm still fiddling with a few WIPs right now and won't be online a lot of the week, so instead have the scene I cut from a recent chapter. I posted bits of it here before and eventually decided to cut it completely. Hope that's okay. 😅

--SOME HOURS LATER--

A warm hand on his brow is what wakes him however long it is later, startling him out of what feels like a remarkably painless sleep, all things considered.

He is not destined for godly or mortal paradise, and this surely cannot be Hel?

Mobius makes a vaguely surprised noise when he realizes Loki’s eyes are open. “Hey, there you are.”

His own eyes are dark-shadowed, pinched at the corners as they always are when he has a headache, but he seems much calmer than Loki remembers last seeing him. And looks utterly exhausted. His hair is sticking up everywhere, as if he’s been dragging his hands through it repeatedly.

“Are you really awake this time?”

Loki blinks for a few seconds, trying to sort through the confused muddle of his last recollection, before nodding somewhat uncertainly.

Mobius chuckles, and reaches somewhere beyond Loki’s vision, bringing back a plastic bottle of water and uncapping it. “Go slow,” he warns, slipping a hand behind Loki’s neck to assist with a better angle.

Cool and refreshing, the water is most welcome. It serves to slowly wash back what Loki now realizes must have been a very near-death experience, if his memories are accurate. The acrid bite of the cursed dagger seems to have vanished, as it should have within these walls and the cast Runes they hold; and while the wound is no longer radiating such agony as he last remembers, it is very much still in existence, that much is clear.

Even the small effort of drinking seems to sap the rest of his energy, however, and it is with great struggle that he forces his eyes open again, not willing to fall back into that darkness without first ascertaining their safety. He appears to be lying semi-sprawled on the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut. A downy pillow rests under his head, and he is covered with what feels like half a dozen coverings – but that is definitely the hard, chilled stone floor under him.

Oh. Yes, good. Mobius had understood Loki’s basically non-existent directions, and had opened a Door directly beneath them to drop them into relative safety in the Citadel. It would have been a bit of a tumble, but certainly better than remaining where they were. Loki spares a brief moment to be impressed that Mobius had figured it out quickly enough to keep him from exsanguination, but that full story will likely need to wait.

Mobius puts a hand on his shoulder, as if reading his confusion on his face. “I assume we’re safe, for now,” he reassures, calm and soothing. “And do I have a load of questions for you about this place! When you’re feeling better, anyway.”

“…Questions?”

“They can wait. You need rest.”

Loki shifts a bit against the cold floor, and immediately is informed by his own physiology of just how not healed he is. Mobius’ face twists in sympathy. “You’re doing a lot better than you were yesterday, but it’s not gonna be a fun recovery, I'm guessing. ‘Specially without magic."

“If this is a lot better,” Loki rasps, breathing heavily, “then I shudder to think of the previous state.”

Mobius worries at a little string fraying on one of the blankets. “You’re not the only one,” he finally says. “I was sure Valhalla was putting another place setting on that long table.”

Loki reaches up to place an unsteady hand on his, noting the absence of the ring which had done its job perhaps a little too well. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You should be,” Mobius retorts, but he turns his hand to lace their fingers tightly. “Oldest trick in the book, and you fell right for it. Damn it, Loki.”

“Forgive me if I find it rather difficult to focus on myself when there is a lesser variant of me with a blade at your throat.” Mobius snorts, amused despite himself at the designation. Loki exhales in a pained grunt. “Might we adjourn to something softer than the floor?”

“I think so, yeah. If you can make it upright for a few seconds, I can use the momentum to get you settled. I’ll get you something to drink with sugar in it, too. Even if your magic kicks back in, it isn’t gonna fix blood loss. You really need a doctor.”

“I would like to try to heal myself first, if you’d be so kind as to assist.”

Mobius nods and gets to one knee beside what Loki now realizes is a makeshift pallet on the floor; and no wonder, since Mobius could never have gotten him up alone. The runes hidden in the walls were just enough to cancel out the curse from the blade, though it does not feel as if his magic is even close to returning. Perhaps assisting a bit with healing, but nothing more.

Brows drawn with worry, Mobius locks one hand around Loki’s and firmly grasps a bony elbow with the other hand. “Ready?” he asks.

Loki nods, braces himself with opposite hand against the floor, and clenches his jaw to prevent a shout of pain when he pushes off, hauled to his feet and kept there with remarkable strength given that it takes a moment for him to find his footing. It is only a few meters to the bed, but it might well have been light-years, for as much as he is exhausted again, limp and breathing heavily, when they finally reach it.

Mobius fusses for a few minutes with the pillows, carefully arranging them so Loki can sleep on his uninjured side instead of his back, facing the middle of the bed. A glass of some sweet-smelling fruit juice is held to Loki’s lips, and then set on the table after he drinks from it. Mobius then retrieves the blankets from the floor, arranging and rearranging them until Loki, already half-asleep again, finally drags his eyes open and catches his wrist mid-action.

“What is it? What do you need?”

“You,” Loki whispers. “I need you safe, and I need you to rest. Please.”

It is telling that he gets no argument against the latter. Mobius just nods, and then after a moment of hesitation slips off his shoes and settles somewhat awkwardly on the other half of the not-exactly-oversized bed. Loki watches through half-closed lids as he fidgets with the unfamiliar sleeves of the pajamas. Discovered prowling around, no doubt, while Loki slept. He turns up the cuffs of the simple brown top, and then unrolls them again. And again. And again.

His hands are shaking.

“Are you all right?” Loki asks.

Mobius immediately stops and then squirrels under the sheet and quilt, offering what Loki can immediately tell is a forced smile as he settles in, hands folded neatly over his chest. “Don’t you worry about me,” he says quietly.

Loki’s lips curve in a faint smile. “I have done nothing but that, these last months,” he admits. It is, perhaps, a little too honest, a little too fraught with pain, for right now. “With good reason, it would seem. I told you that you were too trusting.”

A faint snort, but Mobius seems to then relax and fall back into old bantering habits, exhaling in a gusty sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” He side-eyes Loki briefly, and despite the weight of these last months seems to silently agree that, and all its unspoken consequences, is a discussion for the morrow. Instead, he simply turns on his side to face Loki, watchful and silent.

Loki manages a shallow, measured exhale and inhale. Another, and then another, until the pain is bearable.

“Please tell me we’re not going to talk about things right now,” he then rasps.

A brief chuckle, even if it’s tinged with sadness. “Not unless you want to.”

“Actually, I do. But not – not until I can think clearly,” he says, a little more candid than he meant. He blinks a few times and allows the pain to settle, to become a Thing of the body, not the mind. He has had far worse, after all.

Mobius huffs what seems to be a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan.” He pats Loki’s shoulder and then turns to shut off the light.

Loki’s eyelids droop against his will, but he reaches out across the space, careful not to stretch too far, and settles for leaving his hand there as he loses the fight against sleep.

Tagging @lokimobius @doomed-spectacles @insert-witty-user-name-here @mirilyawrites @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

@in-my-loki-feels @andthekitchensinkao3 @mythical-magik @scifikimmi and @thosegayoldmen

Whatcha workin' on this week?