Oh, my Macabrlings, it's wild to see how much more I've written in the last year. It'd been a long time since I wrote anything back when I started up my Tumblr and y'all have been so lovely to me with your likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. So, I'm sitting in a pretty good spot with my two main stories being Shadows of Deception and Unbreakable Bonds BUT, a couple of my WIPS are growling at me every time I look at them so, so I'm going to challenge myself for what's left of the month of March!
I'm going to pick three of my oldest WIPS and try to finish them by the end of the month, if I don't, well, I guess they remain a priority until... I finish... them? Is that how this works? Meh. Whatever, without further ado here are the top three WIP contenders in no particular order!
Healing Hands: Set in the Arkham Verse following a first-person narrative of Jason Todd, the second Robin and formerly the Arkham Knight. Grappling with demons is lonely and dirty work that Jason Todd often does alone, but tonight he needs backup, following a brawl in the rain-slicked streets. The ghosts of his past are nipping at his heels and in the absence of Batman or his bat siblings, he turns to the one person he knows will understand his pain. A kindred spirit, his girlfriend, the Omen. Jason Todd/Wrenna Jameson (OFC) Smut, and fluff.
The One That Got Away: The sequel to Bet You Wish You Had Me Back and personally requested by @sodasbqe The follow-up to Shane and Austin's story, I see you there and I have been kicking around a few ideas for their story but they've been slow coming but I am working on it! Austin's been running for something for a long time and after the night she and Shane had together he's not willing to let her keep running. The past isn't so scary with a man like Shane Walsh at her back and in her heart. Shane Walsh/Austin Walker (OFC) Smut and fluff.
1001 Nights of Mischief: Follow Loki as he searches for his fiance, Sigyn; seems she's led him on a little bit of a scavenger hunt to Midguard. How does one keep the God of Mischief from getting into too much mischief? Simple. Make sure he's too busy and sated to cause any trouble. Loki/Sigyn Smut.
These are the top three I will be focusing on outside of my two main projects so if you've got any thoughts on the subject or words of encouragement let me hear them!
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Just a quick PSA of sorts...
as the title says, this is just a little psa sort of post, but anyways… i just wanted to take a second and say that it's come to my attention that i'm probably a person who misjudges boundaries more easily than i thought i did… sure, i feel like most of you guys i'm mutuals with, and chat even a bit with ooc are people i'm close to-- but i guess sometimes i let the line for that blur a bit too much, and don't end up picking on the fact that the other person i'm talking with might not feel the same way i do…
so in relation to that-- i'd just like to ask all my mutuals, that if we're chatting about something, and i bring up something that makes you uncomfortable-- or i try to send/do go ahead and send you something that you didn't want me to-- please, please make that clear with me-- be a little blunt or rude if you feel that's what needed for me to get it, but just… be clear with me, and communicate if i've done something to mess up and overstep anywhere, please…
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Rayman's Rage [Rayman 2 Fanfic]
By the time Rayman burst into Razorbeard's quarters, he was blind with rage.
He had been imprisoned on Razorbeard's slave ship. Stripped of his powers. Beaten, taunted and mocked. Then thrown in a cell to rot.
He had been forced to witness unspeakable atrocities inflicted onto fellow prisoners. People who once lived peacefully in the Glade, people he had a duty to protect. Now they were in what he could only describe as hell.
When he escaped and returned to land, what he saw there was almost worse. The pirates had left nothing but destruction in their wake. The Glade and its remaining inhabitants were broken shells of their former selves.
The more he pushed on, the bleaker it got. Stories of people disappearing, simply vanishing without a trace. Feared to have been captured by the pirates, or worse. Anguished, tear stained faces of families mourning their loved ones. So much pain and loss. He felt it all. It threatened to consume him.
The Glade he knew had been a place of peace and tranquility, but this was different. This wasn't peace, it was emptiness. Everybody was hiding. Nobody wanted to be found.
At some point, the heaviness in his heart morphed into seething restement. A pure, burning hatred towards the pirates and what they had done to his home, to the people he cared about.
He wasn't sure when exactly it happened. But if he had to guess, it may have been when he encounted a distraught Uglette in the Iron Mountains, wailing because the pirates had taken Globox and the children, and now she had nothing left.
Or when he freed Ly, severely weakened from imprisonment and possibly torture at the hands of the pirates.
It had to be upon encountering Clark, who, despite his enormous prowess, was on the brink of death when he found him. In fending off the pirates, he had used all but the last of his strength.
There were too many such incidents to count. But each one solidified his resolve to hunt down Razorbeard and destroy him. That's what kept him going towards the end, like a flame burning brightly on candlewax. It was no longer about being a hero. It was about retribution.
So when he finally reached Razorbeard's quarters and kicked in the doors, Rayman's body was burning with rage. A rage that until now, he hadn't known he was capable of feeling. A rage that made him want to avenge his friends who had been horrifically scarred, and his home that had been brought to near destruction. A rage that reduced his vision down to a single pinpoint. A rage that made him want to destroy everything in sight.
Rayman's eyes locked in on Razorbeard as he started swinging his fist. He channelled the pain, the trauma, the rage, condensing it all into a single point, ready to aim.
He was going to make this one count. For his friends. For the Glade.
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so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.
and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.
...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.
see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.
while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.
especially if the president of the united states is on board.
yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.
and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."
but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.
...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.
not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.
yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.
but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire
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