#whumptober prompts this year go HARD

[noes-pillow]

to the resurgence of ppl sending kudos to my vnc fics i love you

[topguncortez]

f you’re still doing prompts : jake and shy wifey !

please. make me feel good. no one else can like you.

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

Body Love || Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist

synopsis: Y/N has been having a hard time feeling confident since the births of her twins. Jake is determined to make her remember how beautiful she is.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smutty-ish, cursing, negative self talk, mentions of c-sections

note: lmao not me going back to my graduation challenge requests. but think of this as a soft launch before whumptober gets started

She was doing it again. Jake had caught her doing it several times in the past couple of days. That look in her eye told him that what she was looking at, she didn’t like what she was seeing in the mirror. She furrowed her eyebrows as she touched her cheeks gently, poking at the skin on her face. Jake tried his hardest to stay out of sight to watch her. 

Y/N was gorgeous. She was the most gorgeous girl that Jake had ever laid eyes on. Her body had changed a lot over the years from age, and carrying five of the most beautiful kids that Jake had ever seen in his life. Her thighs were a bit bigger, her stomach not as flat as it used to be, her breasts weren’t as perky, and her hair had some grays in it, all small changes of age and being a mother. But the scar that sat on her lower abdomen was the most noticeable to her. The scar wasn’t there a year ago, but it was now a permanent reminder of probably the worst day of her life. 

The pregnancy and birth of Jasper and Maxwell Seresin had been anything but easy. Throughout the whole thing, Y/N was having problems with her blood pressure. One moment it was too high, and the next it would be too low. She had tried her best to remain as stress-free as possible, but it was hard with a naval aviator for a husband and three other kids running around the house. A c-section was the last thing she wanted, but when it came down to a life-or-death situation, Y/N agreed to it. The scar reminded her of the moment when she almost lost her babies. She didn’t like it, but Jake loved it. 

He loved every single mark on her tummy. Whenever they were intimate, Jake would kiss every single stretch mark on her tummy, sending flutters through her body. But they hadn’t been that intimate since Jasper and Maxwell were born nearly a year ago. Y/N never liked to take her shirt off anymore when they would have sex. She would hardly show herself when they would get dressed in the morning, she’d either step into the closet or the bathroom. They didn’t shower or bathe together like they once did, in fact, she went as far as locking the door whenever she did to deter Jake from entering. 

Jake didn’t like being iced out like this. He had spent years trying to break down her walls, to get her to let him. She slowly opened up to him, and gradually built up that confidence to let him know everything about her, to let him truly see her. But now, it felt like he had moved ten steps backward. 

He sighed and pushed off the wall he was leaning on, as he watched Y/N lift her shirt gently and run her fingertips over the scar. She looked at the reflection of the scar in the mirror and frowned at it. Jake walked up behind her, and placed his hands on her hips, causing her to jump at the action. Y/N tried to push her shirt back down to cover the scar, but he stopped her. 

“Why do you hide this from me?” Jake asked, looking at the scar in the mirror. He gently ran his thumb over the skin and leaned his head into the crook of her neck. 

“I don’t like it,” She answered, “I hate seeing it. It’s ugly.” 

“Yeah, but it reminds you of how much of a champion you are,” Jake said, and placed his lips on her skin, “Shows the sacrifice that you made to bring your babies into the world.” 

“They were cut out of me,” She sniffled and looked away from the scar. “My last babies and I didn’t even actually give birth to them.” 

“Stop that, yes you did,” Jake turned her body, so she was facing him. He gently lifted her head up, “You gave birth to Jasper and Maxwell. It wasn’t how you wanted it to be, but you still did it. It still means something.” 

“Why have you stayed with me?” Y/N asked him honestly, looking up at his big green eyes. She could see the heartbreak in his eyes the moment the words left her mouth, “I-I’m not as pretty, or as confident or as smart as some of the girls you used to bring around the Hard Deck. So, why did you choose me? Why did you stay with me?” 

“I stayed with you because you didn’t throw yourself at me, or any of the other pilots that walked into there. I chose you because you are a kind, gentle, old soul, who would rather stay home and eat strawberry cupcakes and watch Bob Ross paint ‘happy little trees’ instead of going out and getting piss drunk,” Jake explained, “I chose you, because when I saw you. . . I saw my whole future. I saw our wedding, I saw our first house, our first deployment, our kids, that huge ass flower garden you made me plant and sat by sipping on lemonade looking as good as a Sin on Sunday,” Y/N chuckled at his words. Jake caressed her cheek, and kissed both of them, before grabbing both her hands, 

“If I could go back in time to the night that we first met, I would choose you, over and over,” Jake said and kissed her lips. 

“Even though I look like this now,” She gestured to her body. 

“Especially when you look like this,” Jake said. Y/N let out a gasp as Jake quickly turned them, and placed her on the bed. He climbed on top of her, and looked down at her body, “God damn, you look so fucking sexy. You looked sexy then, and you look sexy now. Your body has changed in the most delicious ways.” Jake pressed his hips into hers, and her eyes widened at the feeling of his semi-hard cock, “I get hard just thinking about you. Thinking about your ass, your thighs, your tits, your tummy.” 

He moaned as his hands grazed the sides of her stomach, “Your tummy. . . fuck, it has to be my favorite place. I love it. I love seeing it stretch and grow with my kids.” Jake pushed the shirt that she was wearing up underneath her boobs, and started placing kisses down her sternum, to her belly.

“Please Jake,” Y/N panted. 

“You don’t realize how crazy you drive me,” Jake shook his head, climbing back up her body, and placing kisses on her neck, “Fuck sometimes I feel like a fucking teenager, getting instantly hard when you walk into a room.” He pushed his hips against hers, his hard-on straining against his joggers. 

“Show me,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his face in her hands, “Show me what I do to you. Make me feel good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, green eyes peering down at her, a hint of mischief in them, “You want me to make you feel good?” Jake’s hand slowly worked down her body, until he was cupping her covered pussy in his hand. Y/N nodded her head frantically, shamelessly grinding against his hand. He was hardly even touching her, and she was begging for him, “What do you want from me, Y/N? Tell me.” 

“Your fingers, in me.” 

“Like this?” Jake asked, feigning innocence as he slipped his hand down the front of the boxer shorts she was wearing. His fingers expertly parted her, sliding through her slick and gently into her. Y/N’s head tilted back with a loud moan. 

“Yes,” Y/N moaned as Jake’s fingers curled in and out of her, his lips sucking gently at her neck, “No one else can make me feel good like you do.” Jake nodded his head, pulling his fingers out of her and gently circling her clit, “Fuck, Jake.” 

“So naughty for me,” Jake chuckled against her skin, “I love it when you curse.” 

“I love it when you touch me,” Y/N said back, her hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. She pressed her lips against his, her free hand gripping the back of his neck and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. Jake’s hips bucked into her hand, as his tongue slipped into her mouth. 

“Jake,” Y/N cried out, as his fingers slipped back into her, curling them against that sweet spot, “Make me cum, please.” “Don’t worry baby,” Jake cooed, grabbing her hand and pinning it above her. She whined at the loss of pleasure from him, “You’re mine and I take care of what belongs to me.”

taglist: @damrlova @phoenix138 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @malindacath @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant @senawashere @bradshawsprincess @alwayshave-faith

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[jasmines-library]

Good Enough

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY FIFTEEN :Prompt: Childhood trauma/"i did good, right?"

Summary: After Bruce rescued you from an abusive family and adopted you into his own, you worry that you haven't done well enough for him on your first patrol.

Warnings: mentions of an abusive family.

Word count: 700

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

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You had been training for this your entire life. Or at least your entire life with Bruce Wayne. He had taken you in from a young age. He had seen your potential and rescued you from an abusive situation. He took you from your lowest; from a place where you were unappreciated, to one where you were loved and cherished. Bruce had trained you hard over the years, helping to build up your abilities brick by brick. He had given you something to work towards. And you had finally gotten there. But you felt like you had to repay him. Like you had to live up to the expectations cast down on you from the generations of previous Robins. 

An anxious feeling simmered in your chest as you shadowed Batman through the city. This was your first patrol, and the anxiety had forged together with this unexplainable excitement that bubbled up inside you. It was exhilarating. Darting across the rooftops was all that you had imagined yet so much more at the same time. It was supposed to be a nice, quiet and easy night based on recent activity in Gotham. But of course nothing is ever simple and soon you and Bruce were dashing over to the other side of the city to stop some thieves from robbing a high end jewellery store. 

You skidded to a halt at the sound of smashing glass under the blaring of the sirens. You could see the thieves halfway down the street ahead of you, their bags full as they sprinted away. You were hot on their heels forcing your legs to go faster as you tried to keep up with Bruce and to catch them. The pair turned a corner down an alleyway. This was your chance. You knew the streets well; you had been studying them as part of your training. So, instead of following them you continued on straight before taking a left coming out in front of them. 

The thieves didn’t notice you at first and proceeded to hop the fence before landing straight in front of you. You readied your weapon and adopted a fighting stance like you had been taught. You were ready to fight. But the minute they straightened up, you were hit with an immense sense of fear. 

They looked like your parents. 

Tall and lean, the figures now resembled your birth parents as they loomed before you. Their words rang in your ears, telling you how much of a disappointment you were. How you were a waste of space. Ungrateful. You froze. Lost for a moment as you were struck with all of your childhood trauma. But then you caught a glimpse of Batman’s cape and were reminded of why you were out here. Reminded that you were loved. 

Raising you weapon you lunged forwards first. Landing a quick blow to the shorter criminal’s side, you tackled them down to the ground. Very quickly, Batman joined in the fight and the alley was filled with a flurry of punches and rouge kicks. It didn’t take long before the two were on the ground and in handcuffs, ready for the GCPD to take away. 

Batman straightened and placed his hands on his hips as he took in your work. He then turned to you, his gaze impossible to tell from under his mask. He could tell that there was a slight hint of fear underlying the look you had plastered on your face. So, he crouched down to your level, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He could tell that something was up, but he wasn’t quite sure what. 

You swallowed thickly before asking nervously “I….i did good, right?”

Bruce’s face softened almost sadly. He knew that you had been through a lot. Far too much for anyone to go through, let alone a child. “So good, kiddo.”

“...you mean it?”

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before deciding to just pull you straight into a hug. “Of course. I’m so, so proud of you. You did amazing, kiddo. Better than I could have ever asked for.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY FOURTEEN ⛧ DAY SIXTEEN ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[ohtobeleah]

Day 13 [The Guy Next Door]

Summary: When your son shows up on Jake's door scared and all alone, he soon realises that something might be wrong at his neighbour's home.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of sexual assault. Forced sexual acts. Gun violence. Blood. Self-sacrifice.

Word Count: 4k

Whumptober Prompt Day Thirteen: Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your husband used to say in his drunken rambles late at night, ‘When you live, live in clover, ‘cause when you’re dead, you’re dead all over.�� But much like your late husband was, the clover is traditionally, an opportunistic weed. Sure, the clover is seen as a good luck charm in many cultures across the globe. But in your experience, it was only ever a weed that grew and took hold of everything in its path. Destroying an array of vast beauty you never thought you’d get back. 

Until the weed died…and your garden began to grow once again. But what do weeds typically do? They grow back. Even in death, your husband had managed to screw you once more. He’d left you in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to some guy he knew from ‘work’. Some guy who thought he could collect the debt even after your weasel of a husband had died a not-so-unfortunate death. 

Some guy who had already made it abundantly clear that if you didn’t pay off the debt owing…You and your son would eventually be reunited with your husband. Permanently. 

That was six months ago, and you still hadn’t paid up. 

“Mr. Jake!” It was the panic in the little boy’s voice that got Jake’s attention first. “Mr Jake, Mr Jake! Are you home?” Next, it was the way the knocking didn’t falter. It was an unrelenting assault of young knuckles against the wooden surfaces of Jake Seresin’s front door. “Mr. Jake! I need help!” 

Jake Seresin had been your neighbour for around four months. In that time you’d grown as close as neighbours could. He’d often mow your lawn in the afternoon Miramar sun. You’d cook enough food for three so that when Jake inevitably stayed for dinner, there was enough to go around and then some. 

There was something so casual about your friendship with the aviator who seemed to have no intention of ever settling down. Jake was clear from the get-go, that he wasn't interested in being a stepdad. He wasn't interested in the possibility of a committed relationship. They were something he deemed worthy to be thrown in the too-hard basket. But what Jake had also been honest about, was the very fact he found you incredibly irresistible. He made it known from the very first kiss you both shared: 

“I’m not the relationship type, Darlin, so don’t get too attached.” 

But someone had grown attached. Your son, Dylan. 

“Mr. Jake!!” The pounding was relentless as Jake padded down the hall toward his front door. The man had been enjoying a beer or two in the warmth of a steaming shower. The last thing he wanted to be doing on his day off was dealing with a pest the size of a seven-year-old who wanted to play catch down the side. “Mr. Jake! Help!” 

“Kid, I swear to god you’re about to lose that fist if you don’t knock it off,” Jake answered the door with a huff and a scowl across his usually shit-eating face. “What? What do you want? I'm busy.” Sure, Jake could have been nicer, but as he held the towel around his waist and dripped onto his freshly cleaned hardwood flooring, he realised he didn’t actually give a shit. But what came out of your son’s mouth next had Jake’s heart racing with adrenaline he only ever felt when he was in the cockpit. 

“My mum’s in trouble Mr. Jake,” Dylan explained as he rubbed his raw knuckles from bagging on his neighbour’s door for so long. “There’s some guys in our house that are trying–trying to hurt her and I need help!” Dylan explained as he began to sob. His emotions got the better of him after the adrenaline of running over without hesitation had started to diminish in his seven-year-old nervous system. 

Tears welled in Dylan’s lower lash lines as Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his dripping and exposed chest, with a frown prominent across his face. 

“Are you sure it’s not just one of your mum’s boyfriends, kid?” Jake sighed as he tried to process what your son was telling him. Dylan was a good kid. Jake didn’t mind the boy.. For a seven-year-old, he was able to hold a decent conversation most of the time. 

It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out that Dylan was one of those kids who had no choice but to grow up fast. Jake didn’t know everything, but you had told him about your late husband. How he wasn’t the best guy in town. One night while you shared a bottle of wine, or three, with Jake, you’d confided in him about the fact you often thought you were a horrible person for not missing him. Clayton was, at the end of the day, Dylan’s father. 

“My mum doesn’t have boyfriends Mr Jake. You’re her boy-friend.” Dylan explained innocently enough. Jake was sure his brain was computing the conversation properly. “Mum’s in trouble, please! You have to help her!” Dylan begged as his tears stained his young cheeks. He’d seen a lot in his seven years. He even knew how to roll a cigarette. But he didn’t want to know half the things that plagued his young, impressionable mind. 

In the time Jake had known you, he’d rarely ever seen you have friends besides him around the house. He’d seen a few big, burley men come and go. But they never stayed long enough to warrant concern. Jake wasn’t the jealous type either. He was more than happy to fill his roster with someone else if you were already busy with another guy. 

But maybe those men weren’t there for the reason Jake had originally thought.

“Okay,” Jake sighed reluctantly. “Get in here before someone sees you.” Jake manhandled Dylan as he dragged him into his home via the kid’s collar. “I want you to hide in my bedroom with the door closed,” Jake instructed the kid who was just trying to keep up with Jake as they walked down the hall. “You don’t answer the front door to anyone, you don’t leave this room unless me–” Jake pointed to himself “–or your mother comes to get you, got it?” 

“What if I need to pee?” Dylan asked as he sat on the edge of Jake’s bed, watching as he threw on an old T-shirt that had been lying on the floor. The same one he had taken off before his shower. 

“Piss your pants for all I care, just don’t leave this room,” Jake growled back at the kid who had somewhat grown on him. But Jake couldn’t let him know that, could he? “Use the bathroom genius, just stay in the damn house.” There was a silence that followed as Jake looked around for a pair of shorts or jeans or something he could wear that wasn’t a white bath towel. His mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to think of a logical explanation as to why your son was banging on his door saying you were in trouble. 

“What are there naked ladies on in this magazine?” Jake froze as he looked over his shoulder to see your son looking through an old magazine Jake had left out. He normally wasn’t the magazine type of guy. But when the urge hits…

“Did your mother ever tell you not to look through other people’s belongings?” Jake snatched the magazine out of your son’s hand as he zipped his jeans up. 

“Yeah, but my dad taught me that if people are stupid enough to leave their stuff lying around, then it’s fair game,” Dylan replied almost too quickly for Jake’s liking. Like he was prepared with that one before he even asked his initial question. 

“Your dad sounds like he was a real great guy.” If Jake had rolled his eyes any harder, he probably would have fallen over from the force. 

“Not really,” Dylan sighed. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye. “I think he’s the reason why my mums in trouble now.” Jake had to take a second to take in the sadness that plastered itself across Dylan’s face. He was scared, that much was for sure. But scared of what exactly? 

“Right,” Jake huffed as he tussled Dylan’s hair. “Don’t move, got it?” 

“I won’t Mr Jake,” Dylan replied as he nodded in response, still sitting on the corner of Jake’s unmade bed. “Thanks for helping my mum, she says you’re a good friend and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“Your mum said that about me?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow. His hands fell to his hips as he watched your son nod. His tear-stained cheeks caused Jake to frown more than he’d care to admit. This kid had somehow managed to weasel his way into Jake’s life in a way Jake never expected. He wasn’t the greatest role model, that was clear. But something told Jake that Dylan hadn’t been exposed to the best either. 

“Yeah, she likes you, I can tell,” Dylan snitched on you like he was getting paid. “Mum doesn’t have a lot of friends.” 

“Any reason why?” Jake didn’t want to pry, but he 

“She says the more people she lets in, the more people can get hurt.” 

“What’s your mum got herself caught up in, kid?” Jake sighed as he sat down beside Dylan on his bed. The mattress dipped a little more with Jake’s added body weight.  Dylan immediately leaned against Jake for support as he tried to find the willpower not to cry.

His dad had always told him emotions were for women. 

“I dunno,” Dylan sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just know that the men who came over aren’t nice and they want her money.” 

“She owes someone money?” 

“I think Dad did, but he’s dead,” Jake sometimes wished his dad had died a lot sooner than he did. There was a common ground there. Jake was also brought up on the ideology that emotions were his greatest weakness. He had watched his mother suffer for years. It was one of the reasons why he swore he’d never marry, never settle down. Jake didn’t want to be like his father. Listening to Dylan talk about his dad so flippantly made Jake wonder if Dylan felt the same way. “So I don’t know why they still want it.” 

“Money doesn’t lose value like that, unfortunately,” Jake sighed as he connected the dots. He stood once again and tousled Dylan’s hair in the process. “Go through my shit and you’ll have bigger problems to deal with, understand?” Jake growled as he headed to the front door. Looking back over his shoulder to see Dylan settling further into Jake’s bed. 

“I heard you the first time,” Dylan replied. Jake’s jaw nearly hit the hardwood flooring of his own house. Who did this kid think he was? “Thank you, Mr Jake.” Jake’s near rage dissipated within his chest when he heard the change-up of attitude almost immediately. 

“Yeah yeah,” Jake sighed. He knew deep down that this really couldn’t be good. But there was still a large part of him that begged to ask the question, was this his problem? “The things I get myself into.” He mumbled to himself as he left the comfort of his humble abode on his one day off. 

**************************************

“Wheres our fucking money Y/n?” Liam asked as he sat in the lounge chair across from the dining table chair you’d been tied to. “We’ve been more than patient with you given the circumstances,” None of this was realistically your fault. It was your late husband’s debt these guys were after. 

“I’ve told you!” You tried to explain again for the hundredth time. “I’ve been saving, I’ve only got a couple thousand saved but it’s in the tin can above the fridge, take it all.” 

Your husband had been a compulsive gambler. He bet your house on a game of blackjack one weekend and lost it all. He’d sold your belongings out from under you, used money for your son’s school fees and borrowed way more money than he could ever afford to pay back in his lifetime. 

So he killed himself and left that debt to you. Weed. But when in clover, right? 

“We’re past forgiving overdue debt,” Liam sighed. He was over hearing the same thing time and time again. “You owe us money, end of story.” 

“Please, you know I had nothing to do with my husband’s affairs,” You tried to plead with the man who’d been on you for the last few months like a bad rash. “I can give you what I have, but I need more time!” 

“Time is money, Miss. Y/l/n and I am a very busy man,” Liam replied with a sinister smirk smeared across his rugged face. “If you can’t pay up, you’ll just have to work off your debt.” 

“We did just lose that one girl boss,” One of Liam’s henchmen chuckled as he moved your hair to one side over your shoulder. “She might be the perfect replacement?” Your skin crawled as the man’s fingertips trailed across your collarbone. 

You strained against your restraints, trying every which way you could to get away from his touch and out of the chair you’d been tied to. But it was to no avail, you were tied down and tied down hard. The rope burned against your wrists, ankles and waist as you wriggled around. They’d surely leave marks for days, but that was the least of your problems right now. 

“Might make us more money too,” Liam eyed you off as he leaned forward on his knees. “Bet it’s been a while since this widow got a good workout in, might have to take her for a test myself.” 

“I have a son, please, I don’t know why my husband did what he did but his actions shouldn’t be mine to pay the price for!” You were sobbing. Tears streamed down your cheeks taking your not-so-waterproof mascara with them. “I’m begging you–” 

“Good thing I like when they beg,” Liam snickered as he stood with a groan. “Let’s see what kinda merchandise we’re working with here,” The next few moments were tortuous. Far too many hands were all over your vulnerable body. “Let’s get a good look at you.” Tearing at articles of clothing to reveal more exposed skin as you screamed and pleaded with them to stop. Your breasts were out on full display by the time there was a knock at the door followed by an all too familiar voice. 

“Y/n, open up yeah?” Jake knocked his knuckles against your front door as he whipped the bottoms of his shoes on the doormat. “Also, you might have to have the birds and the bees talk a lot earlier than expected, just a hunch.” Jake knew there was probably something going on inside, your son had been really spooked. But in true Jake Seresin style, he was gonna be a pain where he could be. He never made anything easy on anyone. 

“Who the fucks that?” Liam asked as he grabbed your face. His fingertips squeezed against your cheeks as he looked you dead in the eye and held a gun to your temple. Things were escalating to new highs far too quickly. This was bad. Very bad. 

“That’s just my neighbour,” You mumbled with fear laced in your words. “ He–” 

“Tell him, to go the fuck home before I put a bullet in your thigh and fuck your face to see if you can really work off your pathetic excuse for a husband’s debt you weak fucking, bitch.” The way Liam spoke to you. The way he threatened you. The way his henchman all laughed as your visible tears and panic made you believe him without a shadow of a doubt. He was going to make you work off your husband’s debt against your will. 

“Jake, not now, I have company!” You tried to conceal the worry in your tone, but Jake caught onto it right away. He bend down to reach for the spare hidden key under the fake ass rock he had told you time and time again to hide better. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t respect boundaries all that often, isn’t it?” Jake grumbled to himself as he unlocked the front door and made his way into your home. The first thing Jake noticed as he walked in was how furniture had been knocked over every which way. He saw the smashed photo frame of you and your son.

The light switch for hanging light above the entrance had been bashed in. Your TV had been knocked over. And all of a sudden, Jake took inventory of the way his heart rate accelerated to new highs never felt as he saw you tied to a dining table chair in the middle of your living room. His heart rate had never even been this rapid when he was approaching ten G-forces. 

But the way your top had been ripped to shreds had him seeing red. The way you sat there almost completely exposed to the three men all standing around your living room like they were about to play pass the parcel made his blood boil. Jake had never seen you look so scared. So defenceless. So broken before. 

Damn, Dylan had been right on the money about there being bad guys in your home, hadn’t he?

“What’s going on here?” Jake asked as he slowly walked into plain sight. He had no intention of hiding. He wanted you to know he was there to help, come hell or high water. 

“None of your concern,” Liam growled as he made sure to unclip the safety on his gun, still pointing it down towards your thigh. “Now, bet it before you become collateral damage buddy.” 

“Jake,” You tried to warn him. “It’s alright, these are just some of my husband’s friends.” The fake smile you gave him broke Jake’s heart. He wasn’t sure what mess you’d managed to get yourself into. Or better yet, what mess your husband had left you behind to clean up. But what Jake knew for sure was that he wasn’t leaving without you. 

“Gentleman, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement here?” Jake asked as he walked further into your living room. Soon enough he had a gun facing towards him. A direct aim to his chest. That wasn’t enough to deter him, not when your son was currently hiding out in his bedroom. Not when you were clearly three seconds away from becoming a living sex toy. 

“We had a deal, she didn’t pay up, a debt is a debt,” Liam explained as simply as he could. “Now get the fuck out before you start taking your final breaths through your chest.” Two more guns were now being held up in Jake’s direction. He could hear his heart in his ears as he held his hands in the air up beside his head. 

“Wow, wow wow, I don’t want the smoke,” He teased. “What’s the debt? I’ll write a check?” It was the first thing Jake could think of that might help de-escalate an incredibly serious situation he truly wasn’t equipped to handle. “A couple thousand should do it, yeah?” 

The choir of laughter that erupted around you was enough to have your tears streaming down your cheeks faster than they ever had been. You were screwed. Jake was a deadman walking and your son was about to become an orphan. 

“Try two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Liam gave Jake the number he was after. The look Jake gave you told you all you needed to know. He didn’t have that kind of money. Which was quite ironic when you think about it because neither did you. “You have that in cash?” Liam pressed as he stepped closer to where Jake stood. “Because if not, I suggest you turn tail and get the fuck out of my goddamn sight.” 

“She should sell for at least three–” One of the henchmen you didn’t even know, added. “We’ll make a profit after that piece of shit failed to repay the money we so generously loaned him.” 

Jake’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. He couldn’t let these guys do this. He couldn’t let them take you. No one deserved this, but you especially didn’t. You’d been through so much already. You needed someone in your corner now more than ever. Jake wasn’t the relationship type, but he had a decent moral compass. 

“What if I go with you and you give Y/n here more time to come up with the money?” Jake offered a counteroffer. 

“Jake!” You pleaded before a pistol was making contact with your temple. The sheer force was enough to blind you for a few seconds as your neck was barely able to support your head. 

“HEY!” Jale growled as he took strides towards you, only to be stopped by the two henchmen. One on each arm. “Please, don’t hurt her.” For a moment Jake had dropped his facade. He wasn’t the relationship kinda guy, but you sometimes made that the hardest rule to follow. “She’s–” Jake didn’t know how to explain what you meant to him. You; ‘d never spoken about what the two of you really were. 

“She’s what? Loverboy?” Lima laughed in Jake’s face as he stood right before the detained aviator. “A gambler’s wife? A soon-to-be whore? A cum dumpster?” There was a second of silence that passed while Jake tried to figure out what he was about to say next. “Come on? What is she?” 

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” Jake confessed. At first, you thought it was the possible concussion making you hear things. But when he followed up? You knew it was really Jake speaking as blood dripped down the side of your face. “She’s the first person I think about in the morning and the last at night, so please, don’t hurt her,” Jake pleaded as he struggled in the confines of the henchman’s grip. 

“Jake–” You groaned. 

“Take me instead, let her go and she’ll get the money you want.” Jake never took his eyes off you as he spoke. “I’ll stay with you until she does, pretty sure I’d be worth a couple hundred thousand for you guys anyway?” There he was again, back to being the Jake you knew him to be. “What’s a bisexual naval aviator go for on the dark web these days?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Liam spat and he shot Jake straight through his thigh. 

“Ahhh fuck!” 

“Jake!” You screamed as he crumbled to his knees before you. Bleeding a crimson red into the carpet. “No, no this isn't his problem to fix!” You begged as you thrashed against your restraints. 

“You have thirty days, or he’s fish food,” Liam growled as his men dragged Jake across the carpet heading towards your front door. “Thirty days, get me my fucking money!!”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” Jake smiled as he was draped past you, bleeding profusely from his thigh. “I got you,” Jake rushed to get his words out as he was dragged further and further away from where you were still tied to your chair. “Dylans safe, so are you.” 

******************************

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Masterlist/Overview

Hey guys! I'm going to be attempting to participate in Whumptober this year (though admittedly I did kind of mash together a few different prompt lists). I have about 20 days planned out right now, and I really hope to get through them, but no guarantees unfortunately, because I do have other stuff going on in my life. Also most of these are in fact just going to be hurt/comfort because I am a weak man. Also yes I am aware that the variation in these characters is kind of insane, don't come at me.

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Day One - Survivors Guilt/"It's not your fault." - Robert 'Bob' Floyd - An accident during a training hop leaves your WSO badly injured, and you can't help but blame yourself. Bob makes it his mission to convince you otherwise.

Day Two - Migraines - Darry Curtis - Juggling a migraine and the Curtis gang is not the easiest thing in the world. Luckily, Darry is there to come to your rescue and tell the others off

Day Three - Overstimulation - Diego Hargreeves - (1960s, autistic Reader) - Between the prison break, Diego's strange brother, and home movie footage showing the assassination of the president, your not sure how much more you can take.

Day Four- Field medicine/"Hang on, we're going to have to improvise." - Fili - Even with the battle beginning to turn in your favor, there are still many losses to come, no matter how hard you work to prevent them.

Day Five - "You don't need to earn this." - Tommy Shelby - When your surprises and gentle treatment catch Tommy by surprise, he questions what he'd done to deserve it.

Day Six - Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that." - Alfie Solomons - (War Era, Male Reader) - A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no mans land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

Day Seven - Needles/Stitching - John Shelby - After being sent on another needless errand by his brother, John returns late, exhausted and bloody.

Day Eight - Panic Attack - Aaron Hotchner - When a case that hits too close to home has too many missing pieces, and seemingly no end, you can't help but fall prey to a growing sense of panic.

Day Nine - Falling Asleep in a hospital room - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw - When a training incident gone wrong lands Bradley in the hospital, you take it upon yourself to stay with him.

Day Ten - "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here." - Alfie Solomons - Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

Day Eleven - Chronic pain - Boromir - The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest.

Days Twelve - Fourteen Break Days

Day Fifteen - Hiding an Injury - Aragorn - Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

Day Sixteen - "I did good, right?" - Umbrella Academy Unit - A mission gone wrong forces you to over use your powers, pushing you too far.

Day Seventeen - Bleeding Through Bandages - Kili - After being injured in escaping the Orcs, Oin does his best to heal you, but miles down the road, it doesn't seem to be enough.

Day Eighteen - Nightmare - Alfie Solomons - Night after night, you are plagued with nightmares, and Alfie seems to be the only thing that can cure them.

Day Nineteen - Scars - Diego Hargreeves - While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

Day Twenty - "Who did this to you?" - Dallas Winston - You get jumped, Dally plots revenge.

Day Twenty One - "You haven't done anything wrong." - Aaron Hotchner - (Autistic reader) - After a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed and unsure. Luckily Aaron is there to help you calm down, no matter how much you protest.

Day Twenty Two - Chronic Pain (again) - Alife Solomons - Getting Alfie to take a day off when his sciatica is bothering him is a full time job.

Day Twenty Three - Exhaustion - Darry Curtis - Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

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These might not get posted consecutively, but I'll do my best.

[lovesick-x-prince]

Ello, with sending whumptober numbers for Scarian, 10 and 19 mayhaps >:)

Prompt: Blow to the Head - Slurred Words | Passing out From Pain | “I can’t think straight” Fandom: Third Life Pairing: Desert Duo/Scarian Notes: I went with number ten. <3 This is another prompt that ended up becoming aligned with Nobody Feels Like You. This time, if you haven't read NFLY, you may have a hard time understanding some parts of this. However, if you have read NFLY (and you're all caught up), you might spot some hints of upcoming chapters, since this is set in the 'future.'

“Lay down,” Scar urged, his hands gentle but firm on Grian’s shoulders as he pushed the avian into his nest. Grian stared at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tugged into a frown, the uneven size of his pupils made clear in the intent look.

“It’s not… night,” Grian decided after a moment, glancing over to the window. Even as he spoke, he squinted in pain, overwhelmed by the brightness of the day. Scar winced, hurrying to grab an extra blanket from the nest to cover the window. As soon as the room became awash with darkness, Grian seemed unnerved, wings shifting as he tried to sit up in the nest. “Is it night?” he demanded, alarmed at the swift change.

“No, no - Grian, lay down,” Scar insisted again, hurrying back to his partner's side. “Everything is fine, you just hit your head.”

Badly, he didn’t add. We used up all our healing supplies in the last battle, he tried his hardest not to think.

As he pushed Grian down again, he raised one hand to gently feel over Grian’s head, his heart dropping at how wet it was with the avian’s blood. “I need to get you food so you can start healing,” he decided, heart racing in his chest as he tried to leap to his feet again.

Before he could properly stand, Grian’s hands moved to grab his wrists, yanking Scar down into the nest with him. Scar exhaled roughly at the sudden rough treatment, instinctively trying to struggle away before he was able to remind himself it was just his partner touching him.

Appearing alarmed by Scar’s struggles, Grian rolled quickly to half-pin Scar below him, one heavy wing falling across his body to help pin him in place. “W - wait,” Grian stuttered, voice slurred.

“Grian!” At Scar’s shout, Grian winced again, his hand shooting up to grab at his head. Scar flinched, and lowered his voice. “You need to let me up! You’re hurt. I need to get you something to eat, you won’t be able to heal without it. I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.”

Grian didn’t like it when Scar was far away. After being partners for over half a year, Scar understood this well. He could even relate to it. These days, when everyone was starting to fight, when Scar had witnessed explosions, battles, seeping wounds, and death with his own eyes, he couldn’t bear it when Grian was far away, either. He had no way of knowing whether or not Grian was safe if he couldn’t see him.

Grian was yellow. He’d already lost one life. Scar couldn’t stand it if he lost another.

So he understood Grian’s reluctance to let him go. Combined with his concussion, Grian likely felt even more clingy and paranoid than usual.

“I don’t…” Grian shuddered over him. He lowered his hand from his head, curling it into the fabric of Scar’s shirt instead. “I… I can’t think straight… Scar, don’t - I can explain,” he insisted, his voice suddenly urgent.

“There’s nothing you need to explain.” Scar wiggled enough to get one hand free, and brought it around Grian to gently brush over his feathers, hoping it would calm the avian. He would fight Grian if he had to, push the avian forcibly aside, but he’d really, really prefer to avoid that. “Sush… we’re both fine -”

“I’m not your enemy,” Grian continued, regardless. His words were a mess, slurring together at this point, and Scar had to work to untangle and understand them. “I’m not really the Regent.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scar said, sighing. It seemed like the concussion was worse than he thought.

“I’m not with Dogwarts, I’m not -”

“I know, hey, I know! You would never work with them,” Scar scoffed. The very idea was ridiculous. Grian had made it very clear what his stance was when it came to Dogwarts. An alliance wasn’t possible, not when it came to Ren and Martyn.

Grian fell quiet for a moment. Then, he continued. “... You’re okay, living with Scott and Timmy?”

“We don’t live with them,” Scar said, trying his best to be patient. “We live on Monopoly Mountain, remember?”

“... Monopoly Mountain,” Grian repeated, “yes. It’s… big.”

“... Not that big, no.”

“... Underground?”

“No, it’s not underground, either.” Scar’s gentle touches seemed to help, somewhat. Grian was slumping down against his chest. Scar could feel the dampness of blood on his chin, where Grian was curled up, head pressed up against Scar’s neck. “It’s a beautiful home in the Sand Lands, where we live together. Holding monopoly over all the sand, to the jealousy of the rest of the server.”

“... I killed you with the creeper?”

“No. I’m green, I’m okay. I’m safe. You’re safe, too.”

Grian nodded, weakly. “... You’re gonna win, Scar.”

“... Maybe.”

Scar waited for Grian to continue, but the avian was silent. After a moment, Scar gently nudged him, but even that didn’t cause him to stir. Alarmed now, Scar half-sat up, moving Grian around to lay him down against the mess of blankets once more. It seemed like Grian had passed out. From the blood loss, or the pain? What if there was some internal injury Scar didn’t know about?

Scar put all thoughts of Grian’s odd words out of his mind. He needed to get Grian food, now.

He got to his feet, and quickly rushed to the kitchen.

[ifitmeanslosingyouthenno]

hold on (you must be hurting)

day 15 whumptober prompt: childhood trauma | painful hug | “i did good right?”

david was tired of his kids having to confess their darkest secrets for the entire world to judge and know and scrutinize

first it was the twins during aaron's trial, now it was neil for nathan's

it was fucking unfair to have his kids have to relieve their nightmares for the sake of proving they were only trying to save themselves

at least, with the twins, they had their small and unconventional family, they had nicky, they had their respective partners, they had betsy (andrew had betsy)

david could at least breathe knowing that they had someone to rely on, someone who could hold them up when they felt like falling, someone who could get them back together after it was over

after aaron was declared innocent thank fuck

david can't have the same reassurance about neil

not after his resident danger magnet decided he didn't want anyone with him during the trials up in dc, not even andrew

something that andrew obviously didn't appreciate

but david tried to understand him, even if his motives are stupid, tried to understand how hard it is for him to relieve every one of his father's crimes he remembered, tried to understand how he didn't want them to look at him and see his father, or worse, see his father's son

he was going to be there for the kid when he got back and innevitably broke down, when he forced his exhausted body on the court to get all that stress out until he couldn't go any longer

he was going to make sure both him and andrew were okay and well and safe

at least that was his plan until the redhead himself calls him one night before he's meant to return, voice shaky and smaller than he has sounded in years

"hi coach, i know it's kinda sudden, but can you come to dc tomorrow?"

it brings back harsh memories, of a new years eve turned sour in the form of a beat up neil, of a marked neil against his will

"what time do you want me there kid?"

he says kid out of habit, but neil hasn't ever felt quite as child-like as he does when he sighs out of relief loud enough the phone picks it up

"i have to be at the court at 8"

he doesn't have to say it, david hears the "can you be here before that?"

"text me the address kid"

david just lets matt know he's going to have to act as coach and captain for tomorrow, avoids answering why, just tells matt he'll give him a bottle of whatever he wants when he gets back

he has the decency to let andrew know as well, that he's had an emergency with one of his recruits out of the state that he needs to take care of

david knows that andrew suspects something is going with neil, but is counting on his refusal to ask for things, not to mention his deep respect for neil setting a boundary

he gets two of hours of sleep at most, and leaves just at midnight, making the seven hour drive up to DC with enough coffee in his system he doesn't even feel tiredness pull at him

neil is waiting for him in the lobby of the shitty hotel they stashed him in, a couple of too obvious feds around him, failing to pretend they aren't there to protect him

it makes david's blood boil

neil looks small sitting on a too big chair, picking at his cuticles hard enough that david would bet he's bleeding

at the motion of his entrance, neil looks up, and david's heart clenches in his chest at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and the deep bags under them. he's practically swimming in andrew's oversized jersey, and despite it not making sense, he looks as if he's lost weight in the past 4 days

neil's hands are twitching, and it takes everything in david not to reach for him and hold him close, but instead he thanks his foresight of buying him a breakfast muffin and a fruitcup in a diner he found on his way, and he hands neil the takeout bag

neil takes it with shaky fingers, silent, but his eyes speak enough in his stead

david doesn't push him

"i see the feds still suck at blending in"

that brings the smallest of smiles to neil's face, and he opens the takeout bag, staring at the muffin and the diced fruit with eyes bright and emotional, before taking a deep breath

"tell me what i've missed"

it's the only words neil speaks the entire time they're in that hotel lobby or on the ride over to the court, but david is more than happy to distract him with talks of practice the last 4 days

he makes sure to also let him know about how andrew and his foxes have been doing, about how they've been safe

the next thing he knows, they're entering a courtroom, mood somber and cold and wary

david sees the change in neil, sees the way he doesn't seem like he's there at all, but somewhere else entirely, and he talks over the things he's been and the horrors he's lived through as if they happened to someone else, as if it doesn't affect him still

if nathan wesnisnki and his circle weren't dead, nothing would stop david from going after them himself, not after everything they put neil through, not after they hurt him as bad as they did, not after they tortured him as a literal fucking child

he can't ever imagine being so cruel, being such a fucking piece of trash as a human, that you willingly abuse and torture and almost kill your own fucking child

he wouldn't imagine killing your child's mother in front of them, just for daring to want to get a chance at a better life, away from violence and crime and everything the wesninski and moriyama families did

(even if to david's knowledge, mary hatford was no saint either)

he's shaking with anger once they let neil walk off that stand, looking defeated and half gone and suffering

he wants nothing more than to jump that wooden barrier and get to neil’s side as he sits by the fbi agents protecting him

he has to stop breathing when almost shily, neil looks up and searches for david's gaze, meeting his eyes just enough that his shoulder lower oh so minutely, but it's everything

they go on a break, one where neil silently sits curled up in the corner of the bathroom, one of his guards with his back to the door, and one of david's cigarettes clutched tightly between shaky fingers

david himself aches for one, but he knows neil needs them more than him, even if he doesn't actually smoke them

from then on, neil is only called up to the stand one last time, and he looks so bone deep exhausted david is trembling with rage

how dare they make his kid tell them all of this again? hasn't he been through enough? hasn't he told them enough? what more could they possibly need?

and how dare they demand this from him?

by the time they let him stand, his legs are shaking so bad he stumbles once and has to catch himself on the stand, leaving the judge to stare at him with pity

where was that pity when they were forcing him to retell the worst moments of his life?

the moment the judge announces that nathan wesninski is found guilty of first degree murder of at least 34 people, at least the same amount of kidnappings, torture, fraud, withholding information from a federal investigation, and many other things, david is sprinting towards the flimsy doors separating him from his kid

he has no idea what neil needs right now, but whatever it is, he's going to be by his fucking side, he's not letting these bastards torture him any longer

neil is looking for david too, and it makes something in him break when he looks at those eyes brimming with tears

neil surprises him when he throws himself at david's chest, all but collapsing with his arms around his waist before david can even blink

neil josten is hugging him

neil josten who once upon a time flinched away from him when he moved too fast, neil josten who has the worst things in life associated to men old enough to be his father, neil josten who has never seeked out support this explicitly

the same neil, his neil

it's not until he notices neil's shuddering breaths, that he breaks out of his shock, and pushes past the discomfort, pushes past his own walls, pushes past his hurt, and he throws his arms over neil's shoulders as gently as he can

he feels neil trembling, doesn't know if it's out of grief, or pain, or shock, but he does his best to be what he needs, awkwardly soothing him with gentle movements

it doesn't last more than a minute or two, before neil is pushing away softly, gathering his strength to stand up on his own, breathing steady despite it all

his voice remains soft, softer than david has come to associate with him, closer to a whisper than anything else, and neil can't quite stop the waver in it

"i did good right?"

and david wants to scream, wants to curse the world who has hurt his kid so badly, wants to scream at the fbi for being unable to find proof of everything that bastard ever did before it was this late, wants to scream at them for not protecting neil sooner

he takes a deep breath and doesn't do any of that, doesn't let his expression be true

he places a hand on neil's shoulder, easing some more of that tension off his small frame

"yes you did kid, i'm really proud of you, you know?"

neil doesn't quite smile, but his eyes finally soften, finally ease

david doesn't understand how anyone could never hurt his children

because they were his, even if he didn't dare admit it, even if some were the biggest assholes on the planet, even if some were problematic beyond repair, even if some just couldn't stop themselves from tauting the literal fucking mafia

they were his children, david's, and he would rather chop off his own hands than hurt them

he would give his own life to keep them safe

he would do anything for them

"come on kid, let's go home"

(he would never admit that his bond to neil was different than that with anyone else, not even to himself)

idc if it's ooc for neil to hug wymack, they're father and son to me and neil wants to hug wymack and who am i to stop him, you can pry dadmack from the cold hands of my corpse title from son by palace (hugely recommend it for the purpose of this day's vibes)

[onceuponastory]

the day i lost you - bucky barnes x reader

Still remember how you taste Somewhere in the bitter and the sweet dream Do you think of me standing in a summer haze? When we were gonna be okay? - january rain by PVRIS

Plot: In the aftermath of The Blip and her boyfriend Bucky turning to dust, Y/N finds a voicemail from him... sent the day she lost him. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, or at least Bucky is presumed dead (obviously we know Bucky isn't dead but we all thought he was after Infinity War, let's be honest) and grief. And of course, some angst. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is for @whumptober Day 24. I used the prompt: "Goodbye Note". I also combined it with the @angstober "The Day I Lost You" prompt. I was once again sad and listening to PVRIS as I wrote this, so now you can be too :)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Stepping over the threshold into her apartment, Y/N drops her bags to the floor with a tired groan. The rain still pounds down outside, the sound echoing through the building. As a personal assistant to Tony Stark himself, Y/N’s working life is extremely busy. And since The Blip, she’s busier than ever, constantly being pulled into meetings with little time for herself. For the past few weeks, she’s been away at a conference with the surviving Avengers, working on a solution to The Blip. This is the first time she’s had to breathe in about a year. And that also means it’s the first time she’s been home since it all happened, since her boyfriend and some of her best friends turned to dust.

And she’s never felt so alone.

Of course, Y/N knows that dating an Avenger, let alone the Winter Soldier himself, comes with its own risk. Especially the risk he may never come home. But although it’s always been at the back of her mind, seeping into her every thought whilst he’s away on a mission… Bucky came back safe so many times that the worry dissipated. Foolishly, she believed he was indestructible, and that he’d always come home to her.

Until he didn’t.

Tears spring at her eyes then, and she furiously tries to wipe them away. She’s done enough grieving over the last year. Enough hoping that he’s coming back, only to end up disappointed. There’s only so much pain you can take before you can’t go on anymore. And Y/N crossed that line a long time ago.

The red light on her answering machine blinks back at her, and she sighs, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them, the light will be gone. But no matter how hard she tries, it’s still there, and she groans. The last thing she wants to hear right now is more “I’m sorry to hear about Bucky” and “We understand how much it hurts, but he’s in our thoughts.” Nobody will ever understand how much it hurts. Even the other Avengers. 

Because Bucky isn’t just in her thoughts. He’s everywhere. He still occupies the empty space in her bed, his laughter still fills the halls, his singing echoing from the shower. He’s the whisper in the wind, the faint scent of his cologne whenever she enters a room, and that still clings to her clothing like a safety blanket. He’s the shiver up her spine, the faint feeling of a hand holding hers, an arm wrapped around her waist.

It’s like he never even left.

Y/N presses the button, bracing herself for the onslaught of messages to come. “Hey sweetheart. It’s me-” As soon as she hears her mother’s voice, Y/N deletes the message. She’ll deal with her and her incessant questions later. She means well, of course, they all do. But the last thing she wants is to be pestered, reminded of her pain over and over again. They may mean well, but there’s nothing they can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. The other message is boring, a message about her car’s extended warranty that gets deleted almost immediately.

But when she hears the voice in the next message, she collapses to her knees. “Hey doll.” Bucky speaks. It's the first time she’s heard his voice - actually heard it - since he left. As soon as she hears him speak, she can see the smile on his face, and hear the laughter in his tone. Her presence always brought a smile to Bucky's face, even on his worst days. Because he loves her. …Loved her.

Hearing Bucky’s voice again, so soon after losing him, causes all her pent-up emotions to erupt, a year's worth of pain spilling over. As the first of her sobs break through, Bucky’s voice continues. “Just checking in to see how you are and keep you updated. Steve and the others are here…”

“Why didn’t I answer the call? I could’ve stopped them!”

“... and we have a game plan now to stop this asshole. Before you know it, I’ll be back home in New York with you, my favourite girl.” Her chest heaves, and she sobs even harder. “I miss you so much, though. The guys keep pestering me about it, but I don’t care. I love you, Y/N, and I want the entire world to know.” That sends her over the edge. A painful, anguished wail rips through her, the sound filling the room. Y/N’s full body shakes, and she clutches at her chest. “I hope you’re doing well and staying out of trouble.” Bucky chuckles. “Keep me updated. But I’ll see you soon enough, anyway.” 

“Why didn’t I answer? Why didn’t I answer?!”

“I better go, Steve’s shouting at me. Think the mission is about to start.” 

Y/N sits up, trying to grab the phone to dial Bucky’s number and tell him she’s still here, that she still loves him. Hoping that he’s there on the other side, waiting for her.

“Bye doll. See you soon. Love you always.” And then, the line goes dead, the dull beeping noise going right through her. Picking up the phone, she dials Bucky’s number, holding it to her ear as her heart pounds.

“Please… please…” she begs. "Just answer me Bucky... please."

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Hey! This is Bucky. I can’t talk right now, and I don’t really know how these things work.” He chuckles, the sound forming a small glimpse of warmth in her belly, and Y/N even laughs softly too. She was there when he recorded that message, her best efforts to teach him the wonders modern technology still not sinking in. Not that it matters now, though. None of it does. She just wants him back. “So I guess if you leave a message, I’ll call you back?”

And he always called her back. Even if it was a day, a week or even a month late. Bucky always called her back. But he won’t call back. Not this time. 

She tries to speak, to say something, anything, to Bucky's voicemail. If there's even a chance he could hear it, she wants him to know how much she loves him, and how much she misses him. Yet she can't say anything through her tears.

When the call disconnects, Y/N sinks to her knees, huddling into a ball as the sobs rack through her entire body. 

She’s alone again. 

And she always will be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[quietlyimplode]

A break from whumptober.

For @oceanspirit9 may the day be kind and the year be kinder.

.

The beach laps slowly and Natasha feels at peace.

The holiday has been Clint’s idea. The last month had been trying at best and they’d felt that they needed to do something to redeem it.

Fury seemed annoyed at the prospect of both of them taking leave, but Maria has nullified his responses by arguing that if he didn’t let them go, it’s likely they would need a longer stint of leave later on.

“A week,” he’d said, “and you’d better be back refreshed and ready to go.”

With that, Clint had opened his laptop and booked flights to Tunisia, knowing that Natasha would enjoy the palm trees and multitude of cats that seemed to be everywhere.

“Nat?” Clint yawns from the adjacent beach towel, propping himself on his elbows and looking out to the expanse.

“I’m glad to be here with you,” he says.

She cocks her head and batters sand towards him.

“What made you say that?”

The words, though welcome, seemed out of place as they’d been talking about eggplants just before.

“I don’t know,” he says laying back down, his arms on his chest with a smile.

“I just feel lucky.”

Natasha takes in his words, mirrors his position and lays down, not feeling the need to fill the silence that follows.

Time passes, into mid morning, the slowness of the day pleasant even as her stomach growls.

“Food?” She prompts Clint, as he puts down his book and looks over to her.

“Sure,” he agrees readily.

His eagerness endearing, she asks him what he wants, the indecision often feeling hard when they were away, the options too vast and open.

“Cake,” he decides quickly, as though reading her mind.

“Something sweet?”

He nods.

“Of course, then maybe some real food.”

Natasha grins, wrapping the towel around her and helping him to her feet.

“Do you have a favourite cake?” Clint asks, frowning as though the question should have been asked a lifetime ago.

They move slowly to the café they’d found on the first day, the older woman who’s shop it was, recognising them and ushering them to, what Clint could only assume was the table she considered the best, the only one with a view of the ocean, unimpeded by palm trees.

They both nod to her and she hands them the menu.

Natasha looks down, finding a cat with white paws asleep at her feet and she smiles.

“Kitty,” she whispers.

“I don’t know,” she answers Clint.

“I like cheese cake,” Clint decides, “in case you were going to ask.”

Natasha laughs.

“Sure. Cheese cake. I like Turkish delight,” she answers. “But the rose flavoured one with pistachio.”

“Fancy,” Clint agrees.

“What do you feel like? Samsa or Baklava?”

Natasha scoffs.

“Baklava, of course,” she replies, pointing to it on the menu for the woman hovering. Then considers lunch, ordering two coffees and two fricasse - one without lemons for Clint.

She looks to the ocean, still thinking of the way it lapped in and out and the quietness that it imbued in her mind.

“I’m going to get up for sunrise tomorrow,”she tells Clint. “I want to see it break over the ocean.”

Clint nods, unsurprised.

“I’ll be sleeping,” he replies with a lopsided grin.

“Of course,” she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want to go back,” she admits, putting her sunglasses back on, as the sun glints down on the table.

Clint shakes his head.

“One day we can run away,” he laughs.

“But for now, we have some miles to go.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees.

“It won’t be long, and the year will be done. I just want some good out of it.”

Clint nods, thinking on her words.

“Sometimes it’s just one day at a time and enjoying it right? So don’t think of what’s next Nat. Just think of the day,” he pauses, “and how lucky you are to be here with me.”

He grins.

His words ringing true, but still receiving a balled up napkin to the head.

The cat stirs and rubs itself across Natasha’s legs.

“Yeah,” she agrees, reaching down to scratch its back absentmindedly.

“Just think of the day.”

.

[accursedkaleeshi]

Welcome back to Kaleesh Week! New hub blog this year: me, Accursed :)

Posting early to give time to the try-hards & the busy! Entries will not be reblogged until the week begins. Details under the cut!

What is Kaleesh Week?

Kaleesh Week is a week dedicated to the small but thriving subset of the Star Wars fandom that loves General Grievous and his people, the Kaleesh. Similar to much more well-known fandom celebrations such as Smaugust, Mermay, or Whumptober, Kaleesh Week can pertain to any medium of choice. Taking advantage of the fact that canon doesn't look over here to do whatever we want!

What are the rules?

The rules are simple, but should be followed to ensure the happiness of all participants and make my job as archivist easier!

Tag your stuff meant for the week with #kaleeshweek24 or #kaleeshweek2024 ! Tag @accursedkaleeshi additionally if you don't want me to miss it. I will be reblogging all the goods to my blog this year! (we still love TB, F in the chat. they aren't dead)

Any type of creation is allowed, whether art, fanfiction, gifs, videos, or anything else. As long as it's Kaleesh-related, there's no problem

Remember to properly tag all triggers

It isn't strictly necessary to follow along every day, this is meant to be fun! Post whenever you like, whether that's all seven days or just one. You can also post anytime after the week if you'd like

Alternate prompts can be used to mix and match in any way you'd like with the standard prompts, so go crazy

And last but not least, have fun!

What are the prompts, and what's the deal with alternate prompts?

The two lists of prompts a day are there to give any participants more freedom with whatever they'd like to create. The days are more of a guideline, as mentioned above. Go crazy, or for those of us with busy lives, freak it sensitive style in wild space. If you post only one thing of any effort whenever you can? You're participating fam! I will be reblogging your tagged posts when the week begins & beyond. pm me with any questions!

Prompts:

Color

Tusks

Tradition

Many

Food!

Fast

Nest

Alternate Prompts:

White

Teeth

Tech

One

Food?

Slow

Trees

Bonus Wildcard Prompt to swap with: Kaleeshi Hatsune Miku lol

I'd like to join the General Grievous Discord server! Where do I sign up?

If you'd like to come hang out with us at the Kaleeaboos server, simply PM me! We have all sorts of fun stuff going on, and a pretty chill vibe. I'm one of the mods there along with some other big names in the Grievous fandom. Come hang with us!

And finally, good luck, and have fun!

[hugogetspowerbottomed]

VARIGO CANON COMPLIANT ROUNDUP

A collection of all the Canonverse Varigo that I've enjoyed over the past three years. It is likely that there are a few missing due to them being deleted or my memory being poor. Nonetheless, pls enjoy.

Mature: +++ Explicit: *** Not Rated: 0

Teen/Gen: Not Marked

hello to my old heart by izabellwit

“Why do you trust me so much?”

Or: the beginning of the end for the betrayer. In which Hugo asks a long-overdue question, and gets the answer he never wanted to hear.

Say You Won't Let Go (I Won't) by DragonTalyn

Hugo needs some reassurance that Varian isn't going to leave

The Simple Act of Scraps Unraveling by @hybrix-hidings

There is a moment, on the trail to the library, where Varian realizes that he will love this man.

-

Or: Hugo and Varian enjoy a show, barefaced.

(Prompt #2 - Fireworks)

Snippets in Time by @sonicgetsrawed

Snippets of Varian’s adventures through the seven kingdoms to save his mother.

Darling you look perfect tonight by @the-reverse-mermaid

Hugo, Varian and Yong are invited to a winter holiday event in Nuru's kingdom, but one of them is having significantly less fun than the others… Hugo is already feeling insecure when a snobby noble decides to turn her nose up at him and make everything worse. Good thing his friends are there for him.

Small Chocolate Confections by @glitter-lisp +++

Sending Varian in to distract their target isn’t ideal, but someone has to keep him occupied while Hugo searches his room, and the duke made his interest pretty clear at dinner last night.

Hugo’s fine with that. Hugo’s very good at what he does, and so focused on the task at hand, and completely unbothered by the thought of Varian hanging out with a handsome guy who's probably feeding him fancy little desserts and talking about how rich he is while Hugo crawls around upstairs looking for loose floorboards and secret drawers.

Save Your Convictions (They Never Will Do) by @littlemisslol-fic

Varian and Hugo return to Corona after the events of the Varian and the Seven Kingdoms AU, with mixed reception. Turns out Rapunzel won't hold a grudge against people who slight her, but if they hurt her friends? And then show up still dating said friend?

Let's just say Hugo's got a storm coming.

The Dating Game by @littlemisslol-fic

In which Rapunzel, bless her heart, didn't know Varian and Hugo are dating, and thus takes it upon herself to find her darling baby brother a man of proper pedigree if it kills her. However, bloodlines aren't everything, and her choices are... less than stellar.

Darling, so It Goes (Some Things Are Meant to Be) by @littlemisslol-fic

My submissions for Effin' Varigo week! Big thanks to battybatzgirl for setting it up!

Hugo and Varian have been dating for three years, and are finally ready to take their relationship to somewhere a lot more serious. However, the world has other plans. With Hugo's proposal in shambles, and Varian focused on saving their friends, they think things can't really get any worse.

They would be wrong.

Prompts are Family ‧ Firework ‧ Fever ‧ Flirt ‧ Fight/Forgive ‧ Future ‧ and Free Day!

as long as it leaves a mark by @aziraphalesbookkeeper

For a guy who never takes off his gloves, Varian sure does lose them a lot. It’s not really the gloves Hugo notices though—it’s the scars underneath them.

Or: 5 times Hugo tries to take off Varian's gloves + 1 time he doesn't have to.

Whumptober Day 27: Scars AILESS Whumptober Day 9: Scar Reveal

We Carry Through by @aziraphalesbookkeeper

Adjusting to living in the castle with Varian is hard. Going from having nothing to having everything makes Hugo feel...twitchy. Luckily, there's one person who knows exactly what he's going through. Unfortunately, it's Fitzherbert.

Prompt: Family

The Touch of Sunlight by TheArtistsMuse ***

Varian was used to being kidnapped- as sad as that sounds- but he can always trust his friends to save him. Only this time was different, and now something is deeply bothering Hugo. Will Varian be able to get his secretive boyfriend to open up? Will they be able to figure out why he was taken?

... Will Varian be able to hide his very inconveniently timed sexual awakening?

meteor shower by @oshunalchemy 0

varian has a nightmare.

Wither and Decay by @eggmuffinwaffles

The Moonstone and the Sundrop were gone, the trials were completed, the Eternal Library was opened. Everything in Corona had returned to as close to normal as it could possibly get- but Corona seems to have a habit of attracting trouble. When old enemies arise, bent on her downfall, it will take more than just quick wit and luck to ensure that they fail.

My Head's Above The Rain and Roses by @eggmuffinwaffles

Whumptober Day 5: Every Whumpee Needs

Varian, Hugo, Nuru and Yong decide to go camping for the first time in a while after the trials. What could go wrong?

The answer is everything. Everything can go wrong.

Aka Part 1/3 of Hugo learning to like the TTS gang

Maybe if You Fixed the Whole World by Yourself by @eggmuffinwaffles

Whumptober Day 7: The Way You Shake and Shiver

Hugo had a really unfortunate habit of ruining his own life. It wasn’t intentional- if you asked him, he’d swear up and down that he played absolutely no part in causing his entire life to go up in flames, and yet time after time he would keep doing it. Funny how consequences work.

Maybe he was being a little bit dramatic.

OR:

Hugo finds himself being blackmailed by a noble at a ball, and gets help from an unexpected source

Part 2/3 of Hugo learning to like the TTS gang

Keeping Me Up At Night by @eggmuffinwaffles

Whumptober Day 29: What Doesn't Kill Me

Even a year after moving to Corona, sometimes Hugo's guilt finds itself creeping into his dreams. In the middle of an episode, he realizes he has more in common with Rapunzel than he thought.

Part 3/3 of Hugo learning to like the TTS gang

Turning Saints Into A Sea by @eggmuffinwaffles

Whumptober Day 25/Day 30: Silence is Golden/Note to Self Don't Get Kidnapped

Varian has to confront his jealousy head on when Hugo's ex finds herself back in Corona. Unfortunately her return might not be as innocent as she wants them to believe.

I Won't Let You Pull Me Down by @eggmuffinwaffles

Whumptober 2022 Day 16: No Way Out

Hugo and Varian get into a fight. Instead of handling it like an emotionally healthy adult, Hugo manages to go and get himself possessed.

Possession 2 electric boogaloo baby

Lessons in Luxury by @varibean

All his life, Hugo wanted nothing more than to live a live of riches and luxury. He had always failed to imagine what a change like that would entail. Real life was becoming too much like a fantasy and it was always the same questioned that brought him hurdling back to reality.

"Have you eaten today?"

Amalgam by @varibean 0

After relying on Ulla’s notebook to help them through their journey, the gang find that the next kingdom has little to no notes on where the next trial takes place. Their only clue is a location that might have a lead on where to go next. However, after a royal mess up on Hugo’s part, they’re left up the creek without a paddle. Not only are tensions high, but emotions as well. One thing was certain though: Hugo and Varian did not mix well.

[luna-rainbow]

Do you think Bucky ever got any sleep during all his years of Hydra captivity? Or was it just wipe/kill/back in the freezer? I don't think cryostasis would be anything like normal restorative REM sleep.

Hello nonnie!! I have finally had a light-bulb moment for this ask (I'm sorry it's taken me like 7 months)

I've been going about it the wrong way, trying to research on sleep, when in actuality what I should have been researching is the brain under hypothermia. This is an observational study conducted in the 1980s looking at children undergoing induced hypothermia (lowering of body temperature) during cardiopulmonary bypass (sometimes required during major surgery). In summary, by the time the body temperature cooled to 18 degrees, all brain activity ceased. Sleep - consisting of non-REM and particularly REM - are associated with far more active brain waves. So nonnie, you are very correct in saying that Bucky, even with his super soldier abilities, unlikely ever got any "sleep" during cryostasis. (I'm sorry to all the ficcers that wrote Bucky dreaming during cryo but I think most people are happy to ignore this piece of science)

In terms of whether Bucky ever got "sleep", I think that is hard to say. Even normal soldiers might drive themselves to go without sleep for 36+ hours if required for a mission (heck, even hospital shifts go for 36 hours in some places). As a super soldier, Bucky might tolerate sleep deprivation for longer. This means missions like taking out the Starks - travelling from Russian and back - he might achieve in one sitting without sleeping in between (although I guess no one can stop him from dozing off on the plane).

I think one implied part of your question is "is it likely that Bucky was allowed out of the freezer for long enough periods at a time to need (and get) sleep"? I feel like that is unlikely, judging from the "he's been out of cryo for too long" line from CATWS. The timeline goes: day 1 Bucky makes assassination attempts daytime + night time against Fury / day 2 Steve makes a run down to Jersey arriving there at night / day 3 Bucky attacks Steve on the causeway and then we get the nighttime vault scene where Bucky is "unstable". Even if we add a day or two prior to allow for prepping, that still means Bucky becomes "unstable" and questions his identity within a bare week of being out of cryo.

Credit @lost-shoe (this post)

Now onto the angst...we know anaesthetics is not like restful sleep, so theoretically neither is cryostasis. While the science of cryostasis doesn't exist at the moment, we know from artificial hypothermia in surgical situations that it puts incredible stress on the body and all its organs. Looking at the laboratory derangements during hypothermia it looks like it pushes the body over to anaerobic metabolism and causes lactate to go up. You know when you go for a run and your muscles cramp up because you haven't warmed up enough? That's because your muscles have produced too much lactate from anaerobic metabolism. So...no wonder Bucky can't stand when he comes out of the cryo chamber. It also increases one's bleeding risk and reduces one's healing speed, so take of that what you will for your Whumptober prompts 😂

I also wonder whether, because the brain is not receiving any REM sleep during cryo, it means Bucky has been in a constant state of sleep deprivation for the last 70 years. The theory of "prefrontal vulnerability" in sleep deprivation proposes that functions like language, executive functions, divergent thinking, and creativity are particularly affected, so that can contribute to Bucky's inability to process/produce complex language and his slowness when it comes to working through complex problems. It also has significant effect on memory and attention: it's interesting to note that during sleep deprivation of more than 35 hours, they found that while free recall was affected, recognition was not. (Disclaimer for science: small sample size, opposite result for subjects with sleep deprivation ~24 h).

So yeah, I think there are practical reasons why Hydra would not allow Bucky to have restorative sleep between missions. Consolidation of long term memory (i.e. transferring them from short term storage into long term storage) usually happens during sleep which means it is quite likely Bucky remembers only broken bits of his time (if at all) in the last 7 decades.

[topguncortez]

A Force of Nature, An Act of God || Whumptober day 13 - J. Seresin

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: you always said it would take an act of God to take Jake Seresin off this earth. . . maybe you should've kept that thought to yourself

word count: 1.2k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: crushed and grief

warnings: character death, grief, pregnancy, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

There are just some things you should never hear over a phone call. Y/N didn’t know that the simple ring from her best friend would end with her heart quite literally breaking into two. The loud scream that pierced through the office floor sent everyone’s eyes to the closed office door. Her boss ran down the hall and barged into her office, just in time to catch her from hitting the floor. The screams and cries that left her mouth were enough to break everyone’s heart that was listening. 

She cursed him out. She cursed the other driver out. She even cursed God out. Bradley couldn’t bear to hear the anguish of his wingman’s wife over the phone and hung up, knowing that Natasha was on her way to would be on to go retrieve her and bring her to the hospital. 

No one said anything as she walked into the hospital. Everyone and everything was still. No one looked her in the eye either, too heartbroken. She stood tall though, holding her head up, letting everyone see the emptiness behind her eyes. Y/N had to go in and properly ID him. There was something deep down in her heart that hoped they had gotten the wrong person. But Jake Seresin was a hard person to miss. 

His usual tan was gone. His body was pale, almost gray in color. His hair which was once shiny and full of life, hung down and was matted with blood. Small scars littered his face and arms. She cried softly as she ran her hand over his hair. The doctor stood in the corner, looking grimly at the girl as she sobbed over his body. 

They had just started their life. Married a year ago, and expecting their first child, a boy, whom he had been over the moon excited about. She felt as though bricks were now tied to her feet. It took everything in her to not tear the white sheet off of him once the doctor covered his body back up. 

When she walked back out to the waiting room, Bradley engulfed her in his arms, holding her up as her legs were shaking and ready to give out at any moment. It was unclear how she was going to move on.

How does one move on from this? How is one supposed to bury their lover and carry on with their life? 

Y/N thought it would be better if a car came out of nowhere and crushed her too. 

The next week was spent with people infiltrating her home. She was never alone, everyone kept a close eye on her. She felt like she was under a microscope. She spent three days locked in her room, in constant darkness. It took Bradley having to physically remove her from her bed to get her to eat and shower. She was close to her due date, and they knew it was not the time for her to check out. 

Jolene and George handled all the details, not wanting to stress her out. They watched as every day she would come down the stairs, pour herself a mug of tea, and sit at the kitchen table, her back to everyone, staring out the window into nothing. Her heart was broken. 

Before Jake’s death, the house was never quiet. Jake hated silence. But now, you could hear a pin drop from the other room. There was no music playing. No laughter echoing. No conversations to be had. The quiet was loud, and everyone knew it. No one dared to make a sound as they moved around. 

Y/N had blocked out the whole service, not remembering a single part of it. She remembered seeing the beautiful dark wooden casket he was laid in. He was dressed in his dress blues, his medals shining perfectly. She barely remembered getting up to speak in front of the crowd, but she did. The dagger squad gave her praise for how strong she was in speaking. 

She was the last to leave, as she watched the gravediggers lower his casket into the ground, and seal the vault. She stood by and watched as they piled the dirt back on top of the vault. Bradley and Natasha stood by the car, looking anywhere but at the plot their wingman now lay under. They knew they couldn’t leave her there, so they painfully waited for her to say her final goodbye. The drive home was silent, as she looked out the window, mindlessly drawing shapes over her belly and letting tears roll down her cheeks. 

It was three weeks to the day, that her water broke in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been sleeping in her once-shared bed, but for some reason, she decided to that night. She had woken up with a scream, that sent Natasha and Bradley stumbling into her bedroom. Neither one really knew what to do, but quickly calmed her down and got her down to the car. 

She didn’t think she would have the strength to walk back into the hospital. But much like she did three weeks ago, she walked in with her head held high, pain and emptiness in her eyes. The nurses and doctors moved quickly to her and sat her down in a wheelchair. She demanded that the brothers go back with her, and they let them. 

The pain of labor was one of the first things she had felt in so long. She had grown numb to everything around her. But the pain ripping through her body reminded her that she was still alive. Sweat and tears ran down her body as the youngest boy rubbed her back as she was fighting through a contraction. 

“I can’t do this,” She cried out. 

“You have to.” 

“I can’t do this without him!” She yelled. 

She sat on the bed, in the room alone with just a doctor and a nurse. The brothers had been kicked out, her request, as she started to push. She did her best, pushing with as much strength as she could, but her body was just too weak. 

“I can’t.” 

“You have to,” The doctor said, looking up at her, “You have to. You have no choice. Your baby will go into distress and so will you.” 

The door barged open, and she closed her eyes, too weak to put up a fight. She watched as he pushed over to her, and climbed behind her on the bed. 

“Bradley…” She cried, leaning her head back against him. 

“I know,” Bradley soothed her. The nurse handed him a damp rag to wipe her sweat, “I know he would do it if roles were reversed.” 

“I need him,” She whimpered out. 

“I know,” Bradley clenched his jaw, trying to push back his own tears, “I do too. But you also need to bring this healthy boy into the world. For him.” 

She nodded and gripped Bradley’s hands. She took a deep breath and listened as the doctor counted down. On one, she let out a loud scream as she pushed as hard as she could. Bradley whispered encouraging things into her ear as she used whatever strength she had buried within herself to bring the baby into the world. 

When the melodic cry broke through the room, she leaned back against Bradley, completely spent. Bradley smiled, tears down his cheek as the doctor laid the newborn against her chest. She looked up at Bradley, tears in her own eyes. The little baby boy was a carbon copy of his father. 

“We did it, Jake,” Y/N whispered and kissed her son’s forehead.

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

[jasmines-library]

The Basement

WHUMPTOBER DAY 18. Prompt: Tortured for information Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You are captured alongside your brother Sam by the BMOL. They want something you won't tell them, so they try to force it out of you.

Warnings: Torture, drugging, hallucination, violence, guns, death? kinda.

Word Count: 2.4k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Toni Bevell. London chapter house.” 

Sam’s voice faded in and out as you regained consciousness. You felt sick, your stomach churned and bile settled in the back of your throat. Everything felt out of balance and you knew that whatever they had drugged you with had hit you hard; they had caught you with it in the side of your neck when they ambushed the bunker. You could feel the bruise lingering on your neck. Vision blurring, you craned your head to try and take in your surroundings. The room was pitiful; bare save a few shelves that had been thrown together. It was clearly a basement of some sort because the windows were high and let in very little light.  

Sam sat across from you tied to a chair barefoot and dishevelled. It was then that you suddenly remembered the muffled gunfire. They had shot Sam. You could see where the blood had bloomed on his clothes, though the darkness of it told you that it had stopped bleeding. 

“It’s nice of you to join us, Y/N.” The blond woman said when you let out a groan. “I thought for a moment there you were going to miss out on all the fun.”

“Where are we?” You asked groggily, moving to rub the sleep from your eyes, but it was a pointless gesture. 

The woman looked up from where she was screwing on her notepad. Her handwriting was uniform like the suit she was wearing. “It doesn’t matter.”

“She’s just wondering how far we’re gonna have to walk back to town after we kill you.” Sam said before nodding towards the other darker haired woman who stood like a puppet next to Toni. “And her. But you first.”

Toni let out a huff you could only describe as some sort of laugh. “Yes. Well, before you murder us all we do have a few questions about you two. Your brother, other hunters in America. Oh, and how you saved the sun.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “Right, you shoot me. Drug my sister, kidnap us both, but sure. Happy to help.”

“We didn’t want to hurt you, Sam. You gave us no choice. And I could say that it was never supposed to go this way, but, you’re Winchesters. It was always going to go this way.”

“And you know us?” You raised your brows.

“We do. We’ve been watching you and your brothers for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer and the angels falling-”

“Then where were you?” You spat. “People died. Innocent people.”

She pursed her lips and tapped her pen between her fingers. “Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved, but the old men wouldn’t allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all, this business with the darkness even they have to agree that things have to change.” Her accent was thick as she spoke with clear dictation. The words rolled off of her tongue. “Whilst you might not believe this, we’re here to help.”

You directed your attention towards the other woman who still stood with her arms folded behind her back. “Yeah. I can tell.”

Sam rearranged himself in his chair, trying to find a weak spot in the metal cuffs that were padlocked around his feet. “I won’t apologise for locking you up. You're dangerous to others. And yourself. But if you answer my questions, I promise you’ll walk right out that door.” 

She gestured to it with a flick of her pen. The woman looked far too happy there. 

Sam pondered for a moment, surveying you from across the room. He knew that what he was about to do would have consequences for you too, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being right. 

“Pass.”

“Sam-”

“You can ask us any kind of question you like, but the answer is always going to be the same. Screw. You.” He told her. Sam was surprisingly calm, given the situation. “And if you wanna get mad, you wanna get mean? I’ve been tortured by the devil himself, so you are just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?”

Toni nodded humbly, though the hint of a menacing smirk crept into the corners of her lips. “To you? Maybe not a lot. But to her? Lets see how long she can hold out, hm?”

She capped her pen, placing it on the table next to her gesturing to the other woman. The tap squealed as she twisted it all the way to the right. Icy water cascaded down over you. You spat it from your mouth, tipping your head back to stop it going spilling onto your face, but it just pooled on your lap and spat back at you anyway. 

“A cold shower? That’s your play?”

You shrugged it off, but after some time the cold began to sink into your bones and it was impossible to disguise your shivering. Sam tugged against the restraint, but Toni and the other woman just waited you out. 

“Screw you.”

~~

After some time, the water finally trickled to a halt and you were left there shivering uncomfortably in the clothes that clung to your body. Sam wanted to shy away as he watched your body try to fight the cold, but he opted to stand his ground and keep up a false front for both your sake and Toni’s. The woman still watched you with piercing eyes. 

“I know you two were always a lost cause, but I'm hoping that there are other hunters that we can work with. Teach.”

The two of you glared at her as she moved towards Sam, much too close to his face for his liking. “So, I need you to give me names, locations and everything else. Meeting places, an organisational hierarchy because maybe with all of us working together we could do what you never could. Make America safe.”

“So, maybe you’ll tie them to a chair.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you’ll do something worse. Maybe you can go to hell.”

Toni recoiled at the statement, humming. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned, retreating up the stairs and leaving you with the dark haired woman. 

Then came the humming of the blowtorch. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to collect yourself and prepare for the pain as the woman stalked forwards. Sam protested in his chair, rattling the chains. 

The woman eased herself down next to you and lowered the blowtorch. You could feel the sweltering heat against your bare feet. 

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at your brother. It was a mistake because you could see the pure guilty hopelessness in his eyes. 

“Screw you.”

She shrugged, before bringing the flame to the side of your foot. You tried to inch your feet away, but they were held securely by the shackles. You screamed in misery as the flames hacked away at your skin, causing it to blister and morph into an angry shade of red. Sam flinched at your blood curdling scream and arched your back, trying to create as much distance from the weapon, as he was haunted by the memories of his time in the cage. As the woman moved the flame closer and began to move it further up your shin, you continued to cry out. Your pained expression would forever be burned in the front of his vision. 

Eventually the woman let up and disappeared behind you up the old stairs. It was when your screams turned into whimpers and then nothing at all. There were nasty burns littering the lower half of your body and every twitch of your muscle sent pain spiralling throughout your body. Your eyes drooped as you finally allowed your body to go slack into the back of the chair. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, Sammy,” You mumbled. 

“Oh Y/N/N… I'm so sorry.”

“S’ not your fault.” 

“I’m going to get you out of here, kiddo. I  promise.” He began to try and find a way out of the binds. Now that both women were gone he could take a closer look at them. 

~

At some point, you must have passed out because when you awoke  you were lying on the concrete, but your head was resting on something warm. Beginning to push yourself up you forgot completely about the burns on your foot. You took a sharp inhale, fighting against the stabbing pain that radiated throughout your body. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Sam said. It was then you figured that it was his lap that your head resided on. He helped sit you up, mindful of the burns. Sometime during your daze, they had been bandaged up. 

When you sat upright, your vision doubled, and after rubbing you raw wrists, you reached up to touch your neck gingerly. It was still tender from the first shot they had given you, though you could feel another small bump where they had clearly dosed you with something else. 

“S’mmy?” You muttered.

He nodded. “They got me too. I don’t know what it is, but they’re watching us.” He looked up to draw your attention subtly to the camera that they had strung up. 

“Do you think it has sound?”

“No.”

“good.”

You were silent for a moment as you thought. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure.” Sam frowned. “I didn’t see the other one return once you passed out. I kinda freaked. Then they got you before they knocked me out too. I wasn’t awake much before you.”

You scanned the room and your eyes fell on the entrance hatch. You tilted your head at it and raised your eyebrows suggestively. Your brother rose to his feet and pushed up against the wooden frame. It shifted, but not enough for it too was tied together by chains which rattled with the motion. He went to try again, but was shut down by an ear splitting ringing. He groaned, covering his ears with his hands before slumping against the wall and breathing heavily. 

“Sam?” You hauled yourself forwards, uncaring about the pain in your foot. You had hardly made it anywhere though by the time you were met with the same fate. You fell to your knees as the sound cut through you. 

Faces began to dance in your vision. People you knew. People you didn’t save in time. People you loved. 

“No…”

~

“Y/N?”

“Y/N.” 

Dean was calling to you from the other side of the library, You had begun to doze off, head drooping over the lore book you had been studying. 

“Hm? Sorry.”

Dean chuckled. The sound was light and reverberated in his chest. “Why don’t you finish up for the night, sweetheart? It’s late. We can catch up in the morning.”

You yawned, bookmarking the page before closing the book and sliding out from underneath the table. You had been working tirelessly all day, and the sun had long set. But you didn’t want to stop, you had to find the answers to stop the guilt gnawing away in your stomach. 

Dean followed closely as you began to retreat back down the hallways. He took the last swig of his beer before tossing it in the trash as he walked past. 

“It’s your fault. You know.” He said nonchalantly when you were about halfway to your room. 

You stopped abruptly. “What?”

“You heard me. It’s your fault that they’re dead. If you had gotten the lore right in the first place then that family would still be breathing.”

Turning you recoiled at the sight of your brother. His eyes were an endless black as he stalked toward you. You stumbled backwards, until you hit the wall. And that was when something strange happened. As your back made concrete with the tiles, something flashed in your vision. A dark room lit only by the streams of light that had managed to force themselves through the cracks of the hatch. 

It was a strange feeling as your vision flicked between the two scenes. It was like you were seeing between two lenses. That was until you saw Sam passed out on the concrete, surrounded by a puddle of his own blood, that blond woman was hunched over him and you forced your mind towards him. 

When you gained some grip on reality, you surged forwards, landing a harsh blow to Toni’s temple. She grunted, keeling to the side only to be picked up harshly and pinned to the wall by Sam, who showed her the deep gash on his palm. 

“Perhaps you’re not as good at your job as you thought.”

Toni spluttered and slumped to the floor. 

Sam was quick to secure an arm around your waist and help you hobble to the stairs. You had hardly made it to the third one when tased the back of Sam's leg, causing him to drop. She ran past and slipped out of the door, locking it behind her. 

“No!” Sam yelled through gritted teeth, ramming his fists against the wood. 

~

By the time Dean arrived, you had lost three fingernails and some of the skin on your left pinky. His failed attempt at a rescue had only ended up with another Winchester locked up within the clutches of the British Men of Letters. You were about to lose another nail when the sound of a gun cocking caused everyone’s attention to snap towards the woman wielding it. 

“Mom…?”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. He seemed to have missed one tiny detail out from his time away from you. 

She pressed forwards, snagging the keys from the table and ordering the woman to drop to the ground. When Toni failed to do so, she delivered a harsh blow with the butt of her gun. But Toni was smart, quick and well trained. She landed multiple punches to the four of your before Mary managed to get the upper hand. Dean scrabbled to untie the chains which hung above his head with the keys she had slipped him, it took him a moment, but once he did, he made quick work of dealing with the British Woman of Letters. 

After releasing you from the restraints, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist again to relieve you of the pressure from the burns. Exhaustively, you leaned heavily against him, so Dean came to your other side to help move you towards the car. You had never been more grateful to see the sleek impala as you slid into the backseat, as the car sped away from the house. Your stomach churned. Toni Bevell was not dead. But oh boy did she have it coming.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 17 ⛤ DAY 19 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[ohtobeleah]

Day Nine [Frozen]

Summary: Jake is so intoxicated he forgets he played a life-threatening prank on you. Leaving you to freeze, for hours.

Warnings: Violence. Violence against women. Drunk!Jake. Hypothermia

Word Count: 1.5k

Whumptober Prompt Day Nine: Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers have theorised that nightmares are the brain’s way of processing unsettling events of the past. Others believe nightmares are how our subconscious mind prepares us to deal with our real-life fears. Either way, they agree that nightmares are most commonly brought on by one thing…..

Stress. 

“Trick or treat Y/n,” Jake cooed as he cornered you in the hallways that led not only to the bathrooms of the Hard Deck, but also to the fridge, freezer and storeroom. 

“Not now, Hangman, I've got too much on my plate to entertain whatever stupidity is about to come flying outta your mouth,” You sighed as you pushed Jake away softly. It had been a long day and was about to be an even longer night. 

Halloween had the Hard Deck going crazy with costume contests, two-for-one specials, half-price beer and speciality spooky season cocktails. You barely had time to breathe, let alone entertain Jake's cheesy pickup lines. 

“You wound me, Kerner, what's a guy gotta do to get a second of attention?” Jake followed you drunkenly down the hall as you made your way to the walk-in freezer. The kitchen freezer was running empty on fries and burger patties, so you offered to do a run to the bigger, more versatile freezer. 

“Find someone with attention to give?” You replied as you rolled your eyes. Jake stood right behind you as you unlocked the freezer door. He was standing so close that he could almost see the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “I’m really busy, Seresin, I don’t have a second to piss let alone stroke your ego tonight,” It was a little hash, but you and Penny were truly run off your feet. It was only that you were home visiting family that she’d asked you to work a few shifts. 

“Maybe you should take a break then?” Jake nearly hissed as the alcohol he’d consumed coursed through his veins. He’d been drinking nearly all afternoon with Rooster. “Even if it's just for five minutes?” He wasn't thinking straight. Hell, he couldn’t even see straight at the moment. 

“Jake, take a hint man–” You groaned as you slid open the door to the freezer. You handed him the lock and key as you stepped inside. The freezing cold air was harsh against your exposed skin. “I. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This!” You couldn’t deal with Jake and his incessant ability to get under your skin. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his normally flirtatious ways. “You can stay if you wanna help me carry these boxes out but–” 

“Take a damn break, Kerner,” Jake chuckled as he shut the door behind you. You didn’t even have a chance to finish your sentence before the door had rolled across its tracks and shut completely. “Trick it is,” 

“Jake?” You frowned as you tried to open the door as your own breath blew back into your face. You could see it bouncing off the door. “Jake open the door!” There was no answer, only the sound of the very lock you’d just given him, clicking back into its place. 

“Five minutes, Kerner,” Jake chuckled to himself as he pocketed the key. “Maybe a few minutes in the ice box will,” Jake paused as he found humour in his own actions. “Cool you off,” 

“JAKE THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” You panicked as you tried to open the door once more. “LET ME OUT!” As the reality of the situation hit you like a freight train, panic set in on a seismic scale. “OPEN THE DOOR!!” 

“I’m a catch,” Jake slurred to himself as he stumbled down the hall, barely able to stand straight in his American Pscycho-esk costume. “A damn catch,” 

“HELP!!!” The chill was all-consuming. “SOMEONE HELP ME!!!” You shouted as you hit your first against the sliding door, begging someone to help you. “JAKE! SOMEONE!” 

The burn was serial, it dug into every fibre of your being as you screamed at the top of your lungs. Your tears dried frozen on your cheeks the longer you stayed inside the walk-in freezer. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour. Two. Three. 

“I haven’t seen her, George, I swear! I’ve been wondering where the hell she is too,” Penny sighed as she looked around the Hard Deck. Her eyes immediately fell on the group of rag-tag aviators crowded around their favourite corner. “Hey!” She called out as her steps took her across the bar. 

“Penny!” Fanboy called out with a smile smeared across his slightly intoxicated self. “How’s it going!? Happy Halloween!” he cooed, somewhat captivated by the Leia costume she chose for the evening. “Woah, is Penny hot?” 

“Dude,” Rooster spat his beer back into the bottle he’d just sipped at the thought of his teammate having a crush on the woman who had become a second mother to him. “You just said that out loud,” 

“Has anyone seen my barback?” Penny sighed as she held her nose to ward off a headache. “I can’t find her anywhere,” She explained briefly as Jake shot out of the conversation he was having with another unsuspecting Hard Deck visitor. 

“Oh my god–” His eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he fished the key to the walk-in freezer out of his back pocket. “Holy fucking shit I didn’t mean to leave her in there,” 

“Leave who where?” Bradley asked as he followed Jake, all the colour had been wiped clean from his face as he made his way through the crowded Hard Deck. “Jake!” 

“It was an accident!” Jake’s drunken hands shook violently as he made his way to the freezer where he’d forgotten he locked you in. “I-I didn’t mean to–” 

“Oh my gosh,” Penny was in utter disbelief at what her brain was trying to put together. There was no way Jake locked you in the freezer. He wouldn’t? Would he? “Tell me you didn’t,” 

“Give me the key–” Bradley growled as he shoved Jake to the side. Jake immediately forfeited the key as he slid down the wall in unimaginable shame. 

“Kerner!?” Rooster shouted as he worked to unlock the sling door. He had known you for years, you were like a little sister to him. Always a pain in the ass but a good, genuine person. He’d lay down in traffic for you. 

But the minute Bradley saw you sitting up against one of the freezer shelves with blue lips and closed eyes, his heart stopped inside his chest. 

“Y/N!” Bradley panicked as he stepped inside. “Hey!” He slapped your cheek softly, but hard enough to gain your consciousness. “Hey! Y/n, you alright?” 

“Oh my gosh, she’s probably hypothermic, Rooster, I’ll call an ambulance,” Penny added as shock overcame her. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. 

“And the fucking police!” Rooster made sure he said it loud enough for Jake to hear. “Come on sweetheart, open your eyes, you’re alright, I’m here,” 

“I’m sorry!” Jake cried as he slumped over himself in the hallway. “Y/n I’m so sorry!” His apologies fell on deaf ears as Penny ran emergency services, one of them being the police. “I didn’t mean to forget!” 

Sometimes your worst nightmare comes true, but you find it’s really nothing to worry about. Occasionally, you discover what your dread is really a blessing. And your life is better because you persevere, despite your fears. 

“Rooster?’ You could barely speak as Bradley carried you out of the freezer to the shock and horror of the rest of the squad. “M-so cold,” 

“You look a little pale, Kerner, but you’re gonna be alright,” Bradley tried his best to sugarcoat the situation, but with every step he took, his heart broke a little more. He’d promised your dad he’d keep you safe, he just never thought he’d have to keep you safe from Jake. He’d let his guard down, never again. “I’m gonna burry him six feet under for this,” 

“He l-locked m-me away,” Sometimes your worst nightmare is truly scary. And it feels like it’s never going to end. “No one came,” That’s why support from friends and family is vital. 

“I did,” Bradley corrected you as he held you in his arms, warming you up as much as he could as sirens grew louder from the distance. “I came for you, I’m right here,” 

You only ever want to surround yourself with people who will wake you up from your nightmare……and bring you back to reality.

[darkkitty1208]

on fic writing and fandom: where am i going forward?

So. It's a bloody dull Friday and I'm writing this post--have been meaning to, for a while--because I can't stop thinking about it. It's just a few (a lot, actually) thoughts I've had in my mind the past few days that I've decided to spill into a single post, which turned out far longer than it needed to be, but nothing too important. Under the cut.

I've been a fanfic writer for a while now. Not a long time by any means, but a while nonetheless. My first fic--which is now orphaned like a few of its brothers for undisclosed reasons, though if you're an og you might be able to guess why--was dated back to the 18th of November 2021. 3 years later and I've got a humble 89 works and counting (the orphaned works and unposted wips unincluded). I can safely say I've improved quite a lot since then.

Where are you going with this, then, Kitty? Surely you aren't here just to brag about your writing progress?

Well. Not exactly. But I'll start with this: I guess what I'm trying to say is I've lost the spark.

You know. The old feeling. That boost of serotonin you get after you finish a piece you're proud of, or when you get lovely reviews on ao3, or when you get a kudos email, or a new mutual, or some wild tags under your silly post. The spark. I haven't felt it in a long time, now. The last time it's been so palpable was... I'm not sure. Probably last year's October. That was a lot of fun. I was most prolific in fic writing, that year. It shouldn't feel like a long time ago. Because it wasn't.

Don't get me wrong. I love all this. All that's going on right now. The comments I'm getting--even if fewer than I had before--and all the other interactions, I appreciate and enjoy and love them so, so much. And writing my newer fic projects are well exciting. But it just isn't the same anymore. I'm afraid it never will be.

(Maybe it has something to do with the lack of interactions lately. Maybe? I don't really know, either. I'm sure we're all well aware the fandom is past its peak, and with the current developments in the MCU I am frankly unsurprised, but I dunno.)

I guess that's part of the reason I've been less active lately. I've been inactive as a whole this year, admittedly, and disappearing far too often for far too long (and I notice some of my friends are, too). I just didn't get the same joy from being in a fandom like I had when I first started this blog, or my ao3 account.

In hindsight, I've probably been a little too dependent on fandom to provide me serotonin. The past few years have been hard, the years before that, too. Life just keeps kicking me in the arse time and time again. I guess I've been using fandom and fic writing as a coping mechanism, and once I've had my fill, the joy dies off to something a little more dull. Like a gum I've been chewing for too long that the sweetness has since worn off.

Honestly? I don't want it to be this way. I want to live without being so dependent on my presence online. I want to live without only knowing joy through internet interactions. I've got to learn to. It sounds silly, but it's true. (I think I may be slightly chronically online, oh no. x'D)

So naturally my first instinct is to distance myself a little. I contemplated quitting, but I can't do that. I don't see myself ever doing that, no matter how many times my brain convinces me that I might.

When this year started, I had set some goals for writing. One of them was to write for more whumptober prompts than I did last year or complete them all. I did like 21 prompts or something last year. Of 31. Within a little more than a month. While still balancing all the life stuff I had going on. This is, if not obvious, an extremely ambitious goal. I am not insane. I don't know what I was thinking. I can't possibly do that now, can I? Not with all the stuff that's been happening.

...

Can I?

...

Yeah, no. Definitely not.

See, that's another thing: writing. Probably the thing I'm trying to get at in this post but otherwise derailed completely from. Fuck my brain.

I'm sure many of you have noticed that I've been writing significantly less. I still post, obviously, but not as much as like, last year when the number of works I had went from a few to far too much. That had helped me improve quite a lot, actually, but those days I barely slept because I just insisted to replace my sleep time with Writing Shit For The Gays. It was pretty unhealthy now that I look back at it. My sleep schedule is still shit now but, yk. Some things just never change.

I was really, really caught up on wanting to be good at writing. Like, really good. I wanted to make awesome things. I wanted to write like a real fucking pro. Like all the more popular fandom authors I look up to. I want to be like the big dogs in fandom. It sounds so silly. I did everything; sprinting daily, setting a minimum of 500 words writing sessions every day, trying new writing styles, churning out works after works, writing for prompts and events and gifts and the like. I was enjoying it, yes, but was it really something I did for myself? Or was it because I wanted to please other people or impress other people for their validation, which is something I'm entirely too dependent of? Was it for the numbers?

Well. It was more for that than for me, I realised a little too late.

So yeah. Fuck wanting to be good. I want to write for the hell of it. I want to write something that's for me. Not what the majority of the fandom or other people want to read, but for me. Which is why I absolutely loved writing works like just a matter of time, how to kill a god, or how to become a god, because they're not meant for other people but myself. (Ironically that last work is a gift but, yk. I still liked it.) I know I joke about self-projecting a lot, but it's been seriously helping me rediscover the joy of writing that doesn't come from the incessant need to be good or perfect or focus on producing more and more and more. It makes me feel like a kid again. Also, I'm only realising this now but I'd rather get like 5 people who enjoy reading my works so much and express them to me rather than 100 people who silently thumbs up at me and then go away to consume another fic or demand more. (All this to say I still love interactions, it just shouldn't be my no. 1 priority to get them when writing fanfics.)

But yeah. None of those works are perfect. They're not meant to be. But they're mine. They're me. They represent me. And it's so, so great to feel that in writing. I've been so stuck up on being some sort of content machine. I'm doing this for myself, how could I forget? I've been saying this since the beginning, I don't know why I'm still struggling to do it. God. It's ridiculous.

Anyway. That's that. This has become a very long ramble. Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk. And for letting me waste your time, if you make it to the end of this post.