#this fic was just healing for me but i rarely write self insert or reader stuff

[microwavdhamstr]

bucky’s nightmares 🤝 reader’s insomnia

bucky barnes x f!reader

you can never fall asleep, he can never stay asleep

description: f!reader is up late every night with her insomnia and helps bucky through a really bad nightmare.

warnings: nightmare, insomnia, bucky is traumatized, nicknames (hun/honey, darling, doll), idk let me know what i missed

notes: first fic on here and first time writing one in a very long time. also this is not a self insert at all idk what you’re talking about you sound crazy.

wc- 2.1k

it’s been a few months since bucky finally left wakanda and moved onto the compound. you haven’t spoken much, however you couldn’t deny you were attracted to the ex assassin.

living in the room beside his was a wild card. between your insomnia and nosy nature you overheard most of his nightmares. you could never gathering the courage to open your door, afraid of bothering him, but that didn’t stop the need that grew in your stomach. the need to help. to hold. to heal. to love.

————————————————

tonight your insomnia was, like always, keeping you awake longer than you could bear. working in tandem with your anxiety to not only keep you up, but keep you on edge as well. every now and again you’d swear you heard or saw something lurking in the shadows of your bedroom. an occurrence you haven’t had since before bucky moved in. your solution was to slip into the common room with your laptop, turn all the lights on, and cuddle up on the couch with your favorite blanket. sleep wasn’t the goal at that point, it never was, but you needed to get the images out of your head. the images you created on your own that unnerved you to your core.

from your self-made cocoon on the couch, you hear the routine shouts from the one and only sergeant barnes. you pause your show as to not disturb the man, hoping he would lull himself back to sleep without interruption. little to your knowledge, he never just went back to sleep. every night, without fail, he’d make his way to the kitchen for a drink. he’d sit at the table for hours before returning to his room. and, to him, tonight was just like every other.

you hear the door open and shut, his sharp and unsteady breaths slowly moving closer. every light near you is on, and as much as you wanted to go unnoticed, you can’t turn them off. you know what waits for you in the darkness. there was no avoiding whatever might happen next.

he quickly comes into view and he looks awful. his eyes are glued to the floor, his hair is damp and stuck to his forehead, he is slightly pale and clammy, you could see him trembling in fear of himself. it’s wasn’t until this moment that you truly realized how similar the two of you are. both tormented by your own minds on a daily basis, both depriving yourselves of rest against you own will, both being held captive in your own heads.

it doesn’t take him long to notice the lights, glancing around until he found the culprit. the girl on the couch buried under a think blanket. the girl who rarely left her room if she didn’t need to. the girl who kept to herself as much as possible. the girl he couldn’t quite profile no matter how hard he tried.

he freezes when he sees you. and you, well you look like a deer in headlights. he holds eye contact for a few seconds before continuing to the kitchen. you continue to sit in silence, frozen still, now holding your breath for some reason. he acts as if it was no big deal. as if you aren’t even there. but you can’t seem to move.

you hear him pour a glass of water and pull out a chair to sit on. you feel his eyes on your back. there’s no reason for you to feel scared and you’re certainly not scared of him. more like you’re scared of bothering him. you don’t want to interfere with his nightly routine. you don’t want to upset him.

“you gonna breathe anytime soon?” you forgot to account for his enhanced hearing. turning towards him, you take a slow breath and give him a nod.

“sorry, i uh-i don’t mean to intrude. i can go back to my room if you want.”

“not intruding, doll, you live here too.” his voice is soft, yet a little rough.

you sit up, moving your laptop and blanket off of your lap, giving him your attention.

“what are you doing up, anyway?”

“can’t sleep,” you shrug, “never can.” he doesn’t respond.

the silence settles for a moment before it bothers you.

“another nightmare?” you question as if you don’t already know the answer. he gives you a stiff nod anyway. “you wanna talk about it?”

“can’t,” he stands up and places his empty cup in the sink, “never can.” and he retreats to his bedroom.

————————————————

the next few weeks are similar. your nights have been getting worse, hallucinations beginning to form in the darkness of your room until you can’t stand being in there at all. bucky’s nights have been just as consistent as always. there was more conversation as time went on and the two of you were becoming comfortable with this new arrangement.

you take your spot on the couch and play family guy on your laptop until you hear his telltale shout, pausing the show and waiting for him to join you.

but he doesn’t. he keeps screaming. you can hear his cries. his pleads. his pain. you hurry into his room to find him shaking, begging for his torment to end. he hasn’t woken up yet, you start to think he isn’t going to, not on his own.

instinct takes over as you rush to his side, cupping his face in one hand and grabbing his flesh hand with your other.

“no, no, please. stop. stop! don’t! please don’t! no more, no more! please, i’m sorry!” his voice begins to quiet but you can still see the terror in his face, feel the tension in his hand.

“bucky? bucky, hun, wake up! it’s just a dream, you’re not there! you gotta open your eyes and come back to me, buck, it’s not real,” you ramble in his ear, stroking his cheek and squeezing his hand.

he shoots up with a large inhale, getting air in his lungs before processing your presence. but once he felt you he scrambled away, needing to distance himself from you. needing to protect you from him.

“hey, hey, it’s alright. it’s just me. it wasn’t real. you’re not there, you’re right here,” you moved closer to him, taking his flesh hand in yours once again, “you’re okay. just focus on your breathing, okay? you’re alright, you’re safe.”

he takes a moment to settle his breaths before speaking up.

“out.”

“what?”

“get out. don’t wanna hurt you,” his panting now slow but heavy.

“you’re not gonna hurt me.” you squeeze his hand slightly for reassurance. “you’re not there, you’re not him, and you’re not gonna hurt me.” your thumb massaged the back of his hand.

“you don’t know that.” you l hear the sadness in his voice. the worry and fear. you trust him completely, but he won’t trust himself. he can’t. he knows the winter soldier is gone but he still can’t find it in himself to actually believe it.

you pull him toward you softly, feeling him tense in your grip.

“it’s okay, jamie, just relax,” he doesn’t, “you’re in your room, in your bed, you’re safe here, you didn’t hurt anyone and you’re not going to. i am right here with you and i’m not going anywhere. just lay back down,” he does, “i’m gonna get you some water, okay? i’ll be right back.” he nods, lungs still heavy.

you do just as you said, racing to the kitchen and grabbing a cold bottle from the fridge. returning to find him laying still.

“here, hun, sit up.” he didn’t realize it, but the nicknames you occasionally throw in help him relax. they make him feel safe. he wonders if that’s how you feel when he does it.

he follows your command and sits up to drink the water, chugging half the bottle before taking another large inhale. you rub circles on his back to help ground him some more, letting him take all the time he needs.

once empty, you take the water and place it on his nightstand, while doing so you hear him sniffle.

is he… crying?

“let it out, it’s alright. you’re safe here.” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull his head into your neck, rubbing his back once more. he doesn’t fight back this time, instead he simply lets you guide his body into yours. and, for the first time since wakanda, he lets himself cry.

you continue to hold him, murmuring “it’s okay” and “you’re safe” over and over in his ear. giving him every ounce of comfort you could find within you.

after what felt like an eternity to him, he finally calms himself down. you feel his arms wrap around your torso, keeping his head on your neck, pulling you into his lap as close as possible, tightening his grip on you as if you’d vanish the moment he let go.

“you okay now, darling?” he nods softly into your shoulder, “do you wanna lay back down?” he nods again.

you attempt to get up and reposition the two of you, but the second you loosen your grip he tightens his. instead he just lays both of you back, pulling you on top of him, not once letting go of you. you don’t really care as long as he is comfortable and content. your hands find their way to his hair and you massage your fingers into his scalp.

“jamie, hun?” you mumble into his ear. he lets out a soft “hmm” in response. “if you ever wanna tell me about your nightmares, you can,” you felt him begin to tense up again, “you don’t have to, but i know they’re scary. and this was the worst you’ve had since you got here. maybe talking about them will help them go away.” he still hasn’t told you about any of them but you have ears. he’s never screamed like that before. never cried that hard. never pleaded that desperately.

there is a thick pause before he responds, you can almost hear the gears turning in his head. he pulls his head from the crook of your neck and moves you to his right side.

“it was after i met steve again,” he started, “i remembered him. they didn’t like that i remembered him. they ke-kept trying to ‘reset’ me but i-i just kept remembering him. they wouldn’t stop trying. in two weeks i was in and out of cryo m-maybe thirty times and every time i came out they-they-” his breath falters and you can see the tears swelling in his eyes.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say it honey, i know.” your soothing voice pulls him back down. reminds him where he is. you reach for his metal hand, the one he was conveniently trying to keep you away from, and when you find it he pulls back.

“w-what are you doing?”

“it’s okay, buck. gimme your hand.” he hesitates but eventually complies. you trace the metal fingertips slowly, taking your time with each knuckle. you bring it closer to you, planting a soft kiss on the back of the chilled prosthetic hand. “have you talked to steve about your nightmares?”

“no, i-i… i can’t.” the defeat in his tone breaks your heart.

“why’s that hun?”

“he’s already done enough for me. he doesn’t need to see the ugly parts anymore, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“and you do?” the delicacy behind your words proves to him how much you truly care.

for a moment there is nothing. no sound, no movement. no tension either. it’s comforting.

“doll, why are you being so nice to me?”

“because i care,” you respond without skipping a beat, “because you’ve been through so much and you never deserved any of it. because you’re still being tormented by the awful things those people did to you. because you aren’t being nice enough to yourself. because i love you. bec-”

“don’t say that,” he cuts you off.

“why not?”

“you’re only saying it to make me feel better, you don’t mean it.”

“of course i’m saying it to make you feel better, why should that mean it isn’t true?” your hand makes its way back to his cheek, “why don’t we just go to sleep and talk about this in the morning, hmm?”

“thought you never sleep.” his voice sounds lighter than before. you giggle at his comment.

“then you sleep and i’ll just hold you. that sound better?” he gives a small smile.

“whatever you say, doll,” he takes your hand from his face and holds it to his chest, “for the record, i think i love you too.”

you smile and nuzzle further into him, “goodnight buck.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #nightmare #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #winter soldier #marvel fluff #marvel angst

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

What would you say are good criticisms the way Leon and Ada are written?

*stretches fingers*

criticism of leon's writing

this is more of an overarching reason but a lot of the resident evil stories/games are extremely poorly written (take a look at the movies. they're all the same kind of story, nothing is really achieved and nothing is of stake. everything is the same before and after the thing that happened. they're just things that are told in a chronical order. they don't necessarily affect anything and don't change anything) if you remove one of them, nothing changes in the overall story.

the lack of consistency of leon written between all iterations. we already have several "retellings" of re2, the og timeline, the remake timeline, and the cgi films are somehow all supposed to be connected but also not?

one of the main criticisms i had actually was leon's characterization in re4r. they went with a much gritty version of leon, which MAKES SENSE, but it makes it harder for this version of leon to fit with the other versions of leon. the jump between vendetta -> death island leon, which is SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAME LEON, has such a jump in characterization.

SURE leon is depressed in vendetta, but we rarely get to see the transitional changes between these instances. so we rarely get to see HOW he heals. (it's ada's pussy curing his alcoholism also aeon child cause DI leon is 100% a father)

the change from re2 leon to re4 leon is probably the change that makes the most sense. it's explained, and there's REASONS to why his characterization has changed from bright eyed rookie cop to trained agent.

BUT with the re4r characterization, i have even MORE problems with it since re4 leon already had a vast change between then and then damnation -> re6 leon

but now we have no idea how re4r leon would change to ID Leon, which is also SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAME LEON. HOW IS HE DIFFERENT AGAIN.

and furthermore, because of the various voice actors and lack of consistency, we have even more versions of leon that don't make it seem like it's the same person.

he's either fucking depressed or TOTALLY FINE, and it's JARRING AF to be slapped between the two.

i wish there was more consistency between the leon versions, and also just more thoughtful writing. at least with the games we have more of his "cringe one liners," but also exposition that can show how he's feeling. with the movies it seems like it's just "ZERO, YOU WANTED TO KNOW HOW MANY THERE WERE" "GONNA ADD TOUR GUIDE TO MY RESUME" AND THERE'S NO SUBSTANCE.

in writing (fanon)

leon's either written as a dom (which makes me cringe) or abusive (which makes me mad) or that he hates ada (which is just canonically untrue.) men who also just hate ada, i see as a red flag.

men who would rather ship leon with claire (a girl who DOES NOT LIKE LEON THAT WAY) as opposed to Ada who canonically cares/would do anything for leon, but is flawed, shows me that you just want the idea of a woman.

this is actually why i stopped reading leon x reader fics after re4r releasing. because leon's characterization in fics were always kind of poor, but after re4r released, his writing was just not even leon anymore. it was just a way to write your fantasies for your self inserts. (WHICH IS FINE, it's just not for me anymore)

i'd rather read leon x ada fics as they tend to have more substance than just porn

criticism of ada's writing

because of the lack of upbringing/backstory for ada, it's hard to tell where she lays morally.

the extreme changes between damnation ada -> re6 ada is pretty vast. the ending scene of her "adding more criminal charges to her name" to saving sherry's, jakes, helena's, Leon's and random civilians lives makes it weird. and then wanting to clear her name because of carla makes it odd

like YES it makes sense, but we STILL don't really know what/why ada does what she does.

i've always preferred re6 ada because we can actually play more of her campaign and have it outside of just being about leon as opposed to separate ways which is just "ada saving leon," campaign (i usually prefer game ada as opposed to movie ada but that's also because of the limitations of film as opposed to game)

re6 ada we see more of her feelings, thoughts, motivations, and it just seems to explore more of her. i just wish we had more of that.

in damnation we have a very flirty, snarky, double crossing ada, which ALSO MAKES SENSE, but i wish we had more clear motivations for her. (does she fuck over another person because she just wants to?)

ada has always been seen as morally grey, leaning towards more good towards the later of the series for her.

capcom please bring back mother, we haven't seen her since 2012. fuck you capcom, i'm in your walls

again, maybe i just prefer aeon specifically with more substance.

the people who shit on lily gao for wanting to break the stereotypes of what ada wong was written to be really shows that you never cared about ada other than the fact that she was a sexy woman.

ngl it's DISGUSTING to me that people thought that lily wanting to characterize ada as MORE THAN JUST A SEX SYMBOL SHOWS ME WHAT YOU ONLY WANTED FROM ADA.

we KNOW that ada can be kind, gentle AND STRONG. she's always been more than just sexy and devious. she's more than a stereotype.

and since re6 ada had always been a bit more of the soft side to me, i'd love to see lily take on the role of re6r ada if they do make it.

the fact that ada is supposed to be mysterious is old, and i want to know more about her already

in writing (fanon)

i've been very vocal about the character assassination and blatant mischaracterization of ada in fanfic.

if you wanna write leon x reader self inserts, DO IT. just LEAVE ADA OUT OF IT. the fact that you need to project your insecurities/flaws onto ada is just sad and pathetic.

it's lazy writing to just have reader be a perfect girl and then have ada as the foil to it all.

i don't mind leon x readers that write ada canonically. especially with leon still having feelings for ada. THOSE ARE FINE IMO

also the whole madonna whore complex is STRONG with how yall think/write about ada.

ada has ALWAYS cared about leon, she's also just more willing to hurt his feelings than letting him get physically hurt. she'd do anything to keep him safe, even if she can't keep herself safe in his heart.

the people who write that ada ALWAYS uses/manipulates Leon and then gets him killed, just don't know how to write imo. it's LAZY writing.

anyways. i hate how people write ada in leon x readers, and that's the main reason why i stopped reading them

tl;dr the writing of resident evil has always been kind of poor/repetitive and also inconsistent. the writing of leon and ada (in fics) are mischaracterized so much, i stopped reading a lot of them (not including au's. au's can be goofy af, that's fine.)

#ask heart #heart answers #cbros5 #ada wong #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #leon kennedy x ada wong #leon s kennedy x ada wong #writings #criticism

[raccoonfallsharder]

Hello, dear friend. I’d be interested in hearing your take on any of these questions. I always love hearing your thoughts.

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

H: How would you describe your writing style?

K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

Q: Do you like getting prompts from your readers?

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading?  Are you a voracious reader?  Do you carefully pick and choose?  Something in between?

so many questions!!! you sure do know how to indulge a girl ♡ thank you, dear friend. you are my favorite daffodil full of sunshine.

A. window across the galaxy and adorations are my favorites. i think window’s the best longform piece i’ve ever written (and probably ever will) and i poured so much of myself into it. it was everything i wanted for rocket and it was healing for me, and i love and identify with jo so much. and adorations just makes me happy. ohhh you know what? i also really like ugly sweater and traditions. and machinery from prompt week. and triptych, sunshine, sweatshirt girl, and reconnaissance for beginners. and some of headcanons & imagines. shit.

E. i put a lot of myself in every oc and reader tbh. sweatshirt girl and jo are probably the most transparent self-inserts so far and came from places where they were 100% what i wanted to give rocket + the comfort i needed (sweatshirt girl was very much a reflection on my life at the time). well, and reader from tomorrow, which was 100% my attempt at self-comfort after a bad day at work. i reflected a lot of my real-life experiences through those characters, and i based the way they interact with others almost entirely on how i try to move through the world. i also expect to identify with noa at least as much as jo (oc from other duties as assigned, which might be why it’s so hard to write it). and honestly? i identify with rocket a lot. he wears his pain differently than i do but we both have skeletons that are not doing what we want them to do, chronic pain, and buckets of survivor’s guilt. plus i headcanon rocket has a sequencing disorder like me (ꈍᴗꈍ) i allude to it a lot in cicatrix and certain headcanons (like the sudoku one!) and some other things and i'm trying to write a fanfic about it lol

F. the only fic i have a mental playlist for is the very boring adventures of space pilot & sweatshirt girl, and it’s mostly chillhop essentials winter 2019 and aviino’s plush and cocoon albums but the thing is it HAS to be on vinyl because that’s the whole sweatshirt girl vibe

H. my writing style is chaotic, exists entirely outside the bounds of space & time (mostly because of the sequencing disorder) and is more about feeling than making sense. my word choice is self-indulgent and erratic and based more on what tastes right to me than anything else. emotions are way easier to write than plot. (huh. maybe that’s the sequencing disorder too.)

K. do i have any guilty pleasures in fic-writing or -reading?? girl i write raccoon porn. it would all be a guilty pleasure if i believed in guilty pleasures. but i don’t. i try really hard not to feel guilt about any of my pleasures. life is short. capitalism sucks. write about raccoon dick

L. it’s hard to say which piece of fanfiction was the most emotionally challenging for me to write because i think writing is actually a way of organizing and processing emotions for me. if anything, writing emotional scenes feels cathartic — a relief. but finishing things always feels risky. endings rarely satisfy people. so the more people like a piece of mind (blackmail material, window, windfall), the harder it is to end. it's more about trying to manage imposter syndrome than anything else i guess

Q. GIVE ME ALL THE PROMPTS

R. markus zusak has been one of the most influential writers for me. i love that every character in his books has their own story, their own value and journey, independent of the main narrative. jonathan safran foer writes the sentences i want to write. the read like a gut-punch. (he gets quoted a lot in other duties.) both of these writers would probably be horrified by this because im fairly certain they do not write smut, especially not featuring raccoons

X. how do i characterize my fanfic reading? it really depends on what is going on in life. we all have to ration our time and i hate having to choose between reading and writing and drawing, but here we are. if it’s a fic by an author i like, i prioritize it. it can be really hard for me to read things that are released chapter-by-chapter over an extended period, so i am more apt to read things that are short-run or that are close to being finished. but i especially like to support writers i know — which is why i always ask folks to add me if they have a taglist ♡

#rfh asks #you're such a peach #a shiny gem #thank you for these #about me #ask game #fanfiction ask game #hibatasblog #rfh fanfic #just fanfiction things

[wind-becomes-lightning]

Reader insert / OC fic rec list

I'm feeling very petty today, so let's go with this.

__ __

Reader insert:

The White Wolf in the Woods - @pinkrelish

Genuinly great post war Obito characterisation, the best one out there in my opinion. It is funny and heartwarming and sad and you can watch Obito grow in front of your eyes. Can't recommend it enough.

cursed. - @lemony-snickers

Supremely underrated character study of Kakashi and his many moods out of the eyes of someone else. When I reached the end I cried. I can't believe this isn't making big numbers when it is so great.

the moon thus led by its angel - @chojuuro

One of those fics i keep recommending and recommending. This is mainly a Konan character study out of someone elses eyes and it is absolutely fantastic. Des creates this story so well and gets you invested so easily. I'm not even a Konan simp, but I adore this so so so much and its criminally underrated.

helping hands - @lemony-snickers

Ongoing Jane Austen like fic with Kakashi as the owner of an old mansion. Please I can't believe this one isn't doing well it is so interesting, such a classic historical romance with a little spice. Lem would say its because her writing is not good enough, but we all know thats not true. You should read it.

Bitter and Sweet - @whatshernameis

Very sweet Obito story that center his facial scars. It's nice to read about his insecurties about them, especially in a real world scenario. I was very in love with him after this and I would not mind a follow up at all if Hela ever wants to write one.

__ __

oc fics:

of letters and memories. - @uchihashisuii

Fantastic exploration of Jules' oc Akari's relationship with Shisui all through letters and scribbles. You don't need to know anything about either of them to read this. It grabs you by the arm and doesn't let you go, even when you what will happen - what has to happen. Jules is a fantastic author and this is such an interesting way to tell that story.

self exploration - @chojuuro

Des' oc Minoru figures out his (trans) identity by hiding behind a mask. I've always had a soft spot for this exploration of who minoru is, which has so much in it of what I like about des writing. A good metaphor, easy paragraphs that rope you in, understanding for the character... Linking this showed me I never reblogged it, which is a shame on my part as it is rent free in my mind.

lead the way - @queen-tabris

This needs more backstory, I understand that its hard to get in without all oc lore, but I promise you it is worth the read still. It's so wonderful and so painful and tell you so much about the Uchiha and Shisui in particular and Cara's oc and my love Uchiha Ren. It is sad, but sweet and so so well written.

bloom- @uchihashisuii

I put this on every fic rec list, I know, I know, but it just means so much to me. Beautiful Obito post war characterisation in which he learns to heal through gardening (and love).

To answer the call - @its-f4nf4n-again

Now this author will tell you reading this very long slow burn is not worth it, but they are a liar liar and its not true. I rarely read stuff that is already so far advanced and I'm glad I did here, because this is so wonderfully crafted. Kakashi seems so genuine, his changes comes gradually and is wonderful to read through. Its very easy to get attached to the characters in this fic and it's already a 3 year + project. Amazing!

#uh i tried very hard not to repeat myself too much from my other fic rec lists but yeah there is some overlap #but i also cut back a lot because there ar many that i also like a lot especially with oc fics #and i decided not to take any that were written for me because that seemed like cheating #soto if you see this i was thinking of adding electric current but i havent read all parts yet but if you read this know it was on my mind

[llycaons]

now that I’ve gone through the entire tag (some pages twice) it’s time to settle down and sort through the one thousand, eight hundred (!!!!) works in my marked for later. not-so-quick note on my personal preferences, and what you can expect to be included or excluded from my rec list

so, in general my favorite fanfic tropes can be categorized as hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending. as reflected from the source material, I read and may recommend works containing graphic, disturbing, or potentially triggering content, including writing related to sexual assault, grief/mourning, trauma, and suicide. I will summarize each work, but please note the tags and warnings on any fic listed here if that’s a concern for you.

on the flipside, I do not read works that end unhappily - all these end hopefully at the very least. no main characters will die who aren’t already dead in canon, wx will always be together or getting there (or, in the case of sad flashback-era fics, will eventually get there), and many of these works reflect themes of healing, recovery, and finding peace. I’ll make note of any exceptions, but there are pretty strong preferences for me, so there won’t be many. and I like sweet and fluffy things too, as well as humor and interpersonal drama and worldbuilding and action - there will be a mix of various types or works

this is an 18+ rec list! explicit works will be on here in any category. additionally, what else the author has written may or may not affect whether I rec something, but I’ll make a note if I know there’s an issue. I also can’t guarantee all authors will be vetted, but I can make a note for authors whose works I trust completely not to be weird or gross

fics recommended in this list are guaranteed NOT to have the following, and please let me know if I mistakenly included anything containing them:

pedophilia/csa, teacher/student relationship, sexual ageplay, or any couple with a canon age gap (even nhs with mxy, or lxc with jc)

incest, including wwx with jc, and jin ling with lzs (the canon incest may be mentioned, but I find that comes up rarely in works I read)

romanticized rape (incl. sex under duress or when unable to consent); everything under the umbrella of ‘noncon’, ‘dubcon’, fuck or die, sex pollen, sex curses, drunk sex scenes, warprize, nonconsensual (or even consensual) somnophilia, necrophilia, etc - unless treated as a traumatic experience - I have several SA recovery works bookmarked and in my MFL

*note on novel ‘canonical kinks’ - a couple of fics do obliquely reference rape fantasy, but they’re few and far between, and there are no actual scenes depicting it. I will mark them so readers will know

abusive wwx or lwj (or anyone not already abusive)

dark!wwx or lwj (🙄)

xy/xxc unless it’s treated as fucky

genderbends/cisswap

fics feminizing wwx - some gray area since he’s gnc in the novel and I really do like seeing that explored; there is one exception to this rule and it will be marked

RPF

A/B/O

cop AUs

CEO wwx or lwj (except for parody)

character x reader

h*rry p*tter

asexual or demisexual wwx and/or lwj: I don’t have an issue with any other characters being aro or ace but they just didn’t come up very often

plus more that I habitually avoid and assume everyone following me does too, but I’m drawing a blank rn. feel free to message me to add more

due to personal preference, there will be also be no, or very little of the following:

crossovers

meet-cutes, hook-ups, breakup fics (even if they get back together), friends with benefits, fake dating/relationship

self inserts

reincarnation

soulmate AUs

age regression (even if non-sexual)

camboy/stripper/sex worker/brothel/courtesan AUs (they’re usually awful but I do have one exception)

kinky stuff besides bdsm. not what I’m here for

*bdsm fic is not something I particularly seek out or enjoy, but since it’s kind of unavoidable so you can expect a fair amount of that

*like I really dislike reading orgasm delay/denial but it’s everywhere so *shrug*

*spanking and more specific kinks like petplay, watersports, inflation, tentacle shit, etc. will not show up since I don’t like them

any reference to the PM kiss unless it’s treated with the gravity is should be

time travel

youtube/socmed, high school, robots/androids, sports, office, assassin, spy, royalty, science fiction, idol, shapeshifting, reality tv, celebrity, mafia, actor, professor, military, or fairy tale AUs

significant canon divergence AUs

significant fix-its

junior-centric (and anything where they’re shipped with each other or anyone else)

fics over 3 chapters (with a handful of exceptions)

Hanahaki disease

mpreg: obviously trans men and and do get pregnant, but I’m wary of anything tagged mpreg since generally speaking, this type of fic is quite weird about trans men. also some mpreg is literally about cis men getting pregnant which like...???

threesomes...sorry, there are just no good ones that people write very much about

podfics/video format

fics that try to pretend like myu was a good mother lmao

I have the tag ‘oblivious wwx’ blacklisted so that might tell you something

if jc is there, people are probably bullying him, but I dislike fics written by jc haters as much as by uncritical jc fans

drawn-out miscommunication for the sake of romantic angst. super annoying

juniors shipping wx 🙄

I have ‘possessive lwj’ blacklisted but this is also something else that’s sort of everywhere; if it’s present it’s either recognized as a flaw and well-controlled, or isn’t very significant

also, the only couples I really read about or rec are

wx (number one, baby - most other couples are usually background sorry but nothing overshadows Them)

mianqing

yanqing (MAYBE)

songxiao

xuanli

nielan (background only)

xiyao (as a toxic or past relationship only)

cssr/wcz (background only)

ONE instance of wq/jc

one-sided nhs/wwx

yaoyang lmao

wq/wwx, sexually but not romantically. like platonic BM-era comfort sex

+ random one-offs like wlj/wq, jc/jzx, and others, perhaps (??)

if you’re still reading, thanks <3

#ficblogging #save #I initially said 'a quick note' but uhh it wasn't

[marvus-xoloto]

F, I, X ?

(thank u so much <3)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Oof this one is really tough bc I have a terrible memory, but I'll have to go with this one:

"My sweet sinnovator," she breathes. "What do I have but the messiahs above me and hell's pit below?"

"You have all of the information you need to make a difference," you say, trying not to count the teeth that poke out from beneath her lip. "All you have to do is work at it. And maybe read. Might be easier if you took your fingers out of your nook and used them to open your study guides."

"Now why would I get up to all that noise when I know you'll be getting up to it for me?"

You can't tell if she's talking about the reading or the work or the fingers in her nook, but a stab of irritation pulses through you all the same.

"Maybe you should do it because it's something to do," you are still comparatively unperturbed as she drops you back to the ground.

The hallway is silent again, but the chuckle she lets out speaks for her.

I just really like writing clowns :'o) I think I caught an interesting sort of banter between these two (Tyzias & Chahut btw; I'm not sure it's clear) that I'd love to explore further, plus I just think it's fun!

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I don't feel guilty about any of my pleasures (I guess self insert fanfiction would work here, but I rarely read it bc I am almost never similar to the reader). Maybe obscure pleasure would be better? In which case, I adore epistolary fic. I've only ever read two, but I loved them both <3.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

LANQUE!! I'm sorry to do it sometimes, but to me, Lanque represents almost all of my bad parts that I'm trying to heal from still. I like to make him suffer to make him grow, if that makes sense.

#asks #silas.txt #ask games

[softbiker]

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: some language, excessive sun exposure, nudity (but no smut)

Word count: 5.4k (why am i like this)

A/N: This fic is very self-indulgent - it’s short on plot and long on summer vibes. Also, this is a reader insert fic, but I hate writing Y/N and using second person narration, so reader has been given an ‘Avenger alias’. Hope you like it. :) Basically, Bucky deserves this, and we deserve for summer to never end. <3 I hope you all enjoy it, and as always let me know what you think!!

P.S. here’s the playlist inspired by this fic

“Geronimo!”

Sam’s battle cry is the only warning before he takes the plunge; Bucky scrambles from his place on the boat deck, shielding his book with his towel and his hands in a last ditch effort to save the pages from water-logged ruin. He scowls as Sam resurfaces, breaching the water with a laugh and blinking to clear his eyes.

“Hey - watch it, bird brain.” Thankfully, his copy of Ender’s Game remains safe and dry, despite Sam’s carelessness. Wiggling his hips, Bucky scoots further back on his towel, away from the edge of the boat and hopefully out of the splash zone.

“You’re the one complaining about getting wet at the lake, Barnes,” Sam quips back, lazily swimming towards the ladder. “I’m not to blame here.”

“Doesn’t mean I want my book getting wet,” Bucky mutters. A bead of sweat slides down his neck - several beads actually; he can feel how flushed his face is in the dog day heat of a July afternoon. As he lays on his belly, pineapple printed beach towel spread underneath him; his sunglasses slowly slide down the bridge of his nose, his face too slick with sweat to hold them up properly.

“C’mon, guys,” Steve sighs. He couldn’t look less concerned if he tried - long limbs sprawled in the water, his star-spangled ass wedged firmly in a neon blue floatie, a can of beer in one hand. A pink patch of color has bloomed on his chest and spreads across his shoulders with each passing hour, despite regular reapplication of his sunscreen. “Can we not do this all weekend?”

“Mm, I’m with Steve,” a voice pipes up, languid and sleepy, from the sun deck along the top of the boat. “I don’t wanna listen to you two bickering for the next three days.”

Bucky’s mouth goes even dryer and his cheeks burn with a different kind of heat, tongue thick in his mouth at the sound of her voice. Embarrassment creeps up in him - why does he always let Sam’s ribbing get to him, damn it?

“Hey - he started it, Angel,” Sam holds up his hands in surrender, his own towel draped across damp shoulders. There’s a crystal droplet of water on the tip of his nose. “I’m just trying to have a good time.”

She peeks over the ledge from her coveted sunbathing spot, pushing her oversized sunglasses up on her head so she can fix him with a skeptical pout. Bucky rolls a couple inches sideways, leaning on one elbow to lift his gaze up to her. The sun blazes behind her, casting a vivid white corona of heat; the baby blue lurex of her bikini glitters against her skin, her limbs shining with coconut oil and sweat. She’s gathered her hair up on top of her head, but a few adorable baby hairs have escaped at the nape of her neck and her temples, curling sweetly in the humid, hazy air.

She’s only been with the team for a few months - new to the Avengers, and to superhero-ing in general. Operating alone for years, and cleverly flying under the radar, she’d found Tony Stark waiting for her in a refugee camp on the coast of Greece with a disturbingly complete dossier on her, as well as a job offer. Within moments of meeting her, the team dubbed her “Angel” - in slight awe at the way her glowing fingers healed Clint’s broken ones during their brief introductory handshake. From then on, she’s been their undisputed MVP, saving their accident-prone skins so many times they’ve already lost count.

“You know - that smells like bullshit, Sam.” The barest hint of a smirk tugs at her mouth, and even squinting in the sun her eyes are bright.

Sam sputters, playing at mock offense.

“Excuse me?” he says, a hand pressed to his heart.

“Just leave Bucky alone,” Angel rolls her eyes, letting her sunglasses drop back to shield her from the glare off the water. “And Steve? You might want to use a higher SPF, or you’ll need me to heal that later.”

Satisfied, she stretches back on her towel up on the sun deck, one arm long and lazy above her head, the other reaching for her phone - restarting one of her podcasts, Bucky thinks. Tiny wireless headphones tucked in her ears, she’s always listening to them; there’s a true crime one that she loves, but he can’t remember the name. Looking down at his chest, Steve seems to just notice the ripening sunburn on his skin. With a sigh, he flips himself out of the inner tube and into the water, swimming the short distance to the boat and pulling himself up the ladder in search of sunscreen.

Bucky ducks his head back down to his book. He tries to read, focus his eyes on the words in front of him - but, surprisingly, he’s almost too relaxed. He feels heavy, lazy, down to his bones; his eyelids droop and the words on the page run together. It’s not unpleasant, though - the heat has soaked right through his muscles, and for the first time in ages he finds that he’s not sore, not aching. Just a little tired, like a cat in the sun. Stretching and settling on his towel, he tucks his head in the nest of his folded arms and closes his eyes.

When Angel had proposed a lake weekend, inviting the team out to her family’s place in the woods, everyone had leapt at the idea. A few days spent in pure laziness, hours wiled away on the water or with a book, with no one to rescue and no battles to fight - it sounded too good to be true. Pure summer paradise.

Beneath him, the boat rocks dully on small waves. He feels himself lulled into a trance as his body sways gently in the same rhythm, back and forth. Paradise, Bucky thinks as he drifts off.

**********

That night, the sun lingering late in the sky, cicadas humming in the trees, the guys grill out on the deck at the cabin. It smells like heaven, fresh corn and burgers and mushrooms; inside the house, Wanda slices tomatoes and Angel stirs caramelized onions on the stove. At the island, Natasha patiently mashes avocados for her famous guacamole - made famous by the fact that it’s frequently her only contribution to family dinners.

“Wow, Nat, I think you actually got a tan,” Wanda smirks. “Right there, on your arm?”

“That’s just a freckle,” Nat scowls. “Which is why I use high SPF and don’t lay in the sun for hours.”

“Hey, at least you won’t get skin cancer,” Angel laughs, not looking up from her onions. Their smell wafts through the kitchen, mouth-watering and tangy sweet, mixed with the fresh and smoky air from the open window to the deck. Outside, the laughter around the grill bursts in a loud crescendo, Sam slapping Clint’s back as he doubles over in a fit of giggles.

“Sounds like they’re having fun out there.” Nat raises a sarcastic eyebrow as she glances out the window. Angel turns to look, too, her eyes pulled to the soft glow of the porch under the string lights overhead, the setting sun just beginning to burn red and gold through the trees.

Sliding off her barstool, Wanda skips over to the sliding screen door that leads out to the deck, pulling it open just enough to stick her head through.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, nearly shouting to be heard over the boys’ loud hoots of laughter. None of them answer, still caught in the flush of whatever hilarity had set them all going. Rolling her eyes, Wanda tries again. “Hey! Are we at least ready to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid, we’re pulling ‘em off the grill right now,” Clint sighs, wiping his eyes. Even from her place by the stove, Angel notices Bucky’s bright open smile, so rarely seen it makes her do a double take. His color his high, his tanned cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink; his hair is still wet from the shower, combed back from his forehead in a way that’s almost boyish, the tips just beginning to dry in soft brown curls.

Swallowing thickly, Angel drags her eyes back down to the onions and turns the burner off.

They gather around the long picnic table on the deck, sliding and shuffling around each other, a veritable summer feast laid out in front of them. The boys at the grill didn’t disappoint: Sam proudly slides a platter of corn on the cob next to the kebabs he made, while Clint carries a tray piled high with fresh burgers (and turkey burgers, at Nat’s request). Toppings and sides come single file from the kitchen - fresh sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce, fried plantains and guacamole. Bucky’s mouth waters with each new dish that arrives at the table, his knees jammed underneath the table next to Steve.

“This spot taken?”

Angel smiles as she slides into the seat across from him; she had washed her face when they got in from the lake, fresh and clean, and pulled an old college t-shirt over her swimsuit. The scent of her coconut lotion drifts across the table. Bucky clears his throat.

“N-no. Go ahead.” He wishes his smiles were half as warm as hers, half as easy and sweet.

Her nose scrunches as she beams a little wider at him and stretches her legs underneath the table, her ankle resting against his calf. The brush of their skin sets Bucky’s nerves on fire, and he keeps expecting her to move, to flinch away. But her leg stays where it is, resting against his, as they laugh and eat with their friends; and every so often when her eyes catch his he wonders if he’s imagining the spark in them.

**********

If it’s possible to get a concussion from tubing, Sam will have one by the end of the day.

Bucky’s head is already swimming and dizzy from being thrown from the inner tube half a dozen times, skipping across the surface of the lake like a stone - he’d always thought Steve was a wild driver on a bike, but in a boat, with two of his friends pulled behind and gripping the handles of a rubber tube? Steve is an absolute maniac.

Inside the boat, Angel leans against Steve’s seat and grips the railing to keep her balance, watching the boys behind them on their wild ride from hell.

“Are you sure you should be going this fast?” she speaks up, a little nervous. “Do you even have a boating license?”

“Don’t need one - I was born before the cutoff date, got grandfathered in,” Steve yells back over the engine and the rush of the waves underneath them. Glancing back and seeing Bucky and Sam still hanging on, he cuts the wheel sharply, the boat arcing through the water in a donut that sends them cutting over their own wake. From the boat, it’s a mild discomfort, the deck bouncing on each wave; from the tube, it’s game over.

She winces as it happens - the two of them go completely airborne on the tube, and with a final scream Sam loses his grip and tumbles sideways, knocking Bucky off into the water with him. Without their weight, the tube sways in the wind for a moment before it drops back to the water, upside down and empty.

“They’re down!” Wanda laughs, and Steve cuts the throttle down, idling slowly back to where the bright blue and green of life jackets bobs in the water a hundred feet away.

As they pull up alongside Sam and Bucky, Wanda drops the ladder and Angel makes her way to the back of the boat, pulling the rope to bring the tube back up to the boat.

“Oof,” Sam huffs as he hauls himself up the ladder, immediately unsnapping the buckles on his lifejacket. “I think I’m done - yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely done.” He shrugs the lifejacket off his shoulders and drops onto a seat at the front of the boat. “Hey, why don’t you get out there and let me drive, Steve?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Steve smiles innocently behind his sunglasses, his hair windblown and spiky. “I think I’m just getting the hang of driving this thing.”

“I think you need a little more practice, punk,” Bucky groans from the ladder. “But not with me back there. I thought Hydra scrambled my brains enough but-” he grabs a towel and scrubs the side of his head, trying to shake the water from his ears. “-you’ve got me mixed up like a fruit salad up here. Jesus.”

There’s always a downbeat, an awkward breath, when he makes jokes about Hydra. Steve winces a little, and Sam purses his lips; Wanda looks away, pushing her hair behind her ears. Bucky feels his cheeks flush, frustrated and embarrassed.

“It’s probably just early-onset Alzheimer’s,” Angel giggles, breaking the silence. “I mean, you’re pushing 102? 103?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Bucky narrows his eyes at her.

“I don’t look a day over 30, you know,” he huffs, feigning offense as he hip checks her on his way to the cooler for a beer.

“Ok, boomer,” she sighs. She’s wearing a necklace today, a single cowrie shell nestled at her collarbone, and she’s changed out the blue bikini for a tie-dye one that makes him thinks of cotton candy. With his metal hand, he snaps the cap off his beer and takes a swig, raising a brow towards her in question. Angel shakes her head. “I’m good - but I’ll take a water.”

They pass around the bottles of water, and a couple of snacks; it’s only early afternoon, and they’re loathe to waste any of the beautiful day, all of them sprawled across the boat, sunning themselves liberally. Wanda wonders aloud what they should do, if everyone is done getting roughed up on the tube.

“Well, we could drive around to the waterfall - maybe go cliff jumping,” Angel suggests, wiping watermelon juice from her chin. The huge Tupperware bowl of fruit they brought has gone down swinging between her and Steve, Sam picking through to find the strawberries.

“There’s a waterfall?” Steve sits up, a slice of cantaloupe in his hand. Angel nods, picking a seed from her teeth.

“Yeah, it’s around that way - not too far from here,” she turns and points around a bend in the shoreline, towards the north end of the lake. “We could at least just take a drive over there - the breeze would be nice.”

They all agree on that - it’s a cloudless day, brilliant and sweltering without the slightest wind to stir up the air across the water. Sam swipes his brow, more damp with sweat now than water, and takes a swig of his beer.

“Let’s go, Angel.” He raises his bottle in salute. “Before we all die of heatstroke.”

It’s a small waterfall, just a stream coming down from the hills surrounding the lake, and running faster today because of the last week’s rain; but the cove is lush and blooming with trees overhead, humming with the lazy buzz of insects and busy calls of birds. Angel kills the engine near the entrance and lets Steve drop the anchor - the water here is clean and deep, and the cliff face rises stark and bright out of the water, the rocks stained with age.

“Oh, wow - it’s so pretty,” Wanda smiles, snapping a picture of the waterfall with her phone.

“And quiet,” Bucky observes. He can’t hear the sounds of other boats on the water, the cries of other swimmers on the lake.

“Yeah, nobody ever comes back here,” Angel shrugs. “It’s kind of a secret little place - my family are always the only people here.”

One by one, they peel off their shirts and tug their lifejackets on, diving into the sun-warmed water. Angel leads the way towards the waterfall, showing them all a small break in the rocks with a natural set of steps and handholds she found with her brothers, and they climb up the rocks bit by bit, happily exploring.

“You ever climb all the way up there?” Sam asks, pointing to the top of the waterfall, where an outcropping of the rock juts out over the water.

“Yeah, a couple of times,” she nods, looking up. “We used to jump from the top. I never liked it much - I’m a little scared of heights.”

“Race you Tin Man,” Sam punches Bucky’s arm, and without waiting for confirmation, takes a running head start at the cliff wall, jumping up to the first handhold he sees and working his way up bit by bit. Bucky scowls, but not one to ignore a challenge, he follows close behind, overtaking Sam in a matter of minutes as he scales the wall with just his hands.

Hauling himself up over the edge, he stands above the waterfall, looking out over the lake. It’s still only mid-afternoon, and the glare of the sun on the water is nearly blinding. Far away, tiny boats circle and weave across the surface, their paths leaving figure 8’s in the waves. Below, he hears Wanda and Steve and Angel talking, cheering Sam on as he climbs the last few feet to the top.

“I win,” Bucky smiles as Sam’s huffing and sweaty face appears over the edge of the rock.

“I hate you,” Sam pants, but he takes the hand Bucky offers and scrambles up to stand beside him.

“Hell of a view.”

Sam props an arm on Bucky’s shoulder, an endlessly annoying habit he has, but Bucky refrains from smacking his hand away. They stare out at the water as Sam catches his breath.

“Yeah, it is.”

**********

When they finally make their way back to the boat, the sun has crept along the horizon towards the late afternoon angle, and their arms and legs ache from climbing the cliff walls over and over. Wanda massages her shoulders, slicking her hair into a little wet bun on top of her head. Angel follows behind her, dropping her lifejacket on her seat and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

Last one up the ladder is Bucky, his arms heavy in the water, eyes stinging, but happily tired from a long day spent doing nothing important. He can’t remember the last time he got to do something like this - just be, just have fun, nothing hanging over his head and no thoughts of tomorrow. He pulls up the ladder after him, folding it onto the deck, and perches on the edge of a seat next to Angel, wondering where his towel has gone.

“Oh - oh, Bucky, you’re hurt,” Angel sits up and leans closer to him. He holds his breath, her face inches from his own - but her eyes are down on his hand.

His flesh hand, which is currently bleeding all over his bright blue swim trunks.

Shit. He hadn’t even noticed - hadn’t felt it at all, but he must have cut it on the climb. The cut runs cleanly through the pink flesh of his palm, welling blood that trickles down his wrist, mingling with the water that still clings to his skin. It triggers something, makes his brain stumble, the bright stain on his thigh - his shorts are probably ruined. He opens his mouth and starts to say something, but the sound sticks in his throat.

Smooth, soft fingers slide over his as Angel grabs his hand. Covering his palm with her own, she frowns down at the wound, as her hand starts to shimmer and glow. He feels the heat of her power soaking into his skin, brighter than the sunlight overhead. It starts to flow down his wrist, and he wants more of it - he wants to bask in it.

Too soon, though, it’s over. The cut wasn’t all that bad, and it only takes a moment to heal. But her hand lingers, palm brushing his, the tips of her fingers tracing his pulse on the delicate underside of his wrist, where the pale pink stain of blood lingers.

“Better?” she asks, looking up at him, long lashes shading her eyes. Tentatively, he allows his own fingers to trace her wrist.

“Yeah. Thank you,” he smiles.

“Any time.”

**********

That night, as the sun sinks down and the fireflies float lazily up from the warm ground, they gather around the fire pit in front of the house. Spread out in canvas lawn chairs, they toast their marshmallows on wire coat hangers, squishing them between graham crackers and chocolate squares. Steve is suspicious of the treat at first, unsure about the pairing and perpetually wary of sweets.

“Just try it,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “It’s the perfect treat, trust us.”

Skeptical, he sinks his perfect American teeth into the crackers, through the gooey marshmallow chocolate layer, the melted treat sticking to his lips as he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully, quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he considers. The rest of the group awaits his verdict, nestled in their chairs with their own s’mores.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees, shoving the rest of the dessert into his mouth. He licks his lips appreciatively. “You’ve got a point there.”

“You know, I think you would’ve had to give up being Captain America if you didn’t like them,” Clint smirks, one cheek stuffed full. “I mean, who doesn’t like s’mores?”

“Yeah, but is that technically an American thing?” Sam wonders, reaching for the package of graham crackers.

“Well I’ve never had them anywhere else,” Wanda counters. She’s nursing her second pineapple ale of the evening - a drink she discovered when they stopped into a grocery store for supplies, and insisted on buying 2 packs to bring to the cabin with them.

Bucky isn’t paying attention to the Great S’mores Debate, not even a little bit. He can hardly hear them talking; he stares across the fire, warm sparks drifting like the fireflies above, as Angel licks chocolate from her fingers. The bright pink tip of her tongue darts out against her fingertips, savoring what’s left of the treat; he finds that his own mouth is parched and dry, a curious kind of hunger growling low in his belly, despite having had his own fill of dinner and s’mores. As she slips her pinky finger into her mouth, her eyes catch his from the other side of the flames, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she holds his gaze. The corner of her mouth twitches up just slightly, and she winks.

She winks.

Then, as the conversation takes another twist towards some kind of dessert or another, she quietly slips from her chair and walks away unnoticed, picking her way down the familiar trail to the dock in the dark.

Bucky glances around the group, and gauging that their conversation should serve as enough of a distraction, mutters some kind of excuse about needing the bathroom before getting up to follow.

Seconds later, Natasha turns to look at them - Angel’s form just visible between the trees and Bucky trailing along behind. She smiles widely over her beer, before settling back into her chair with a sigh.

“Finally,” she huffs, taking a sip. “Took them long enough.”

“Oh my god, right?” Sam raises his hands in exasperation. “I thought I’d hit my 100th birthday before that dickhead made a move-”

**********

She’s sitting at the edge of the dock, past where the boats are moored for the night, one knee tucked up under her chin as her other leg dangles with her toe in the water. She must hear him coming, his footsteps intentional and loud to his own ears on the wooden planks, but she doesn’t turn around. The lake is soft and still, wearing moonlight like a a silk robe, rippling reflected light across the surface. Above them the sky is cloudless and star-filled, cooled to a rich deep blue after the blazing bright day.

“Sometimes I would come down here at night with my dad,” she says, when he stands right behind her, unsure if he’s allowed to sit, if he should ask. She tips her head up over her shoulder. “We’d fish a little - threw them all back, though.”

“You didn’t keep ‘em?” Bucky asks, settling down beside her on the dock, letting his legs hang over the edge.

“No,” she shakes her head, scrunching her nose. “I felt sorry for them. Didn’t wanna hurt them, you know?”

He just watches her, the soft line of her profile in starlight, a smile blooming in his heart.

“Always been an angel, huh.” He doesn’t mean to say it, at least not out loud, but once it’s out he finds himself glad.

She looks at him then, not answering, but searching out his gaze with her eyes - they flit between his own, pupils wide in the dark. He licks his lips, wonders what she’s looking for, what she sees.

“Have you ever been night-swimming?”

Her question comes out of the blue, catching him off guard. He blinks - her mischievous eyes never leave his face.

“Um. I-I don’t remember,” he fumbles. “I think so. Way back, during the war. Not so much for leisure though,” he smiles ruefully. “I just knew I smelled awful and didn’t wanna risk being caught with my pants down, literally, in broad day.”

It startles a laugh out of her, a loud one, and his pride swells, inflating in his chest. The smile stays fixed on his face as he looks back out at the lake.

“Wouldn’t mind sometime, though,” he hints. “It’s beautiful out there at night.”

“Let’s go then,” she grins, using her hands to push herself up to stand above him. He blinks up, dumb at the flash of her smile.

“But, well…” he falters. “I should run back up to the house, I don’t have my trunks-”

“So?” she interrupts with a careless shrug. There’s something in her smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what she means until she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and-

Oh. Oh.

Easy as that, smooth as a wave, she peels her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Her soft cotton bralette comes next, unhooked and slid down her arms, dropped onto the pile with her shirt. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he swears, but he can’t bring himself to lower his gaze. She turns away with a little smile as she shimmies her shorts down, kicking them behind her to join the rest of her clothes, and he thinks he might combust if, oh god, there go her panties-

The cool splash of water as she jumps in jolts him back to himself, wakes him from the trance he fell into at the display of her body, her sweet summer skin, still smelling of coconut and watermelon. Her head bobs up a couple of yards past the dock, treading water.

“You coming or what?” she dares, feeling less bold now, but what the hell - she made her move.  The water has cooled since the sun went down, and a little shiver runs through her. Yes, she certainly made a move. She bites her lip and watches him, waiting, hoping.

When he stands, she holds her breath - will he leave? Will he turn her down? Will he still be her friend? Then he reaches a hand behind his back and tugs his shirt up over his head, throwing it down onto the dock next to hers.

He’s every bit as beautiful by moonlight as he is in broad day - she’s always thought so, but kept it to herself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Now though…she admires him, as she allowed him to admire her; watches closely every long line of his body revealed to her as he undresses, the golden tan he’s earned the last few days on the lake, the course hair covering his chest, the sliding shadows of muscle beneath his skin…

Before he can second guess himself, Bucky dives in and joins her, popping up out of the water just a few feet away and slicking his hair back from his face. She smiles, playfully backing away; he grins right back as he gives chase, following slow but determined.

“See? Fun, right?” Angel giggles, feeling her heart beat a wild rhythm and hoping he can’t hear it. Bucky chuckles back, not answering, swimming just a few inches closer. The outline of her body glows in the moonlight, though he tries not to stare beneath the water.

“You’ve definitely convinced me,” he agrees. They drift out a little further - still not too far from the dock or the shore, but their little game of cat and mouse leads them out several yards. “You bring all the boys out here? Is it gonna be Sam’s turn tomorrow?”

“Hm…I haven’t decided yet,” she muses, pretending to consider it. “I think I’d ask Steve first - unless you think he wouldn’t be game for it.”

“Trust me, I know Steve Rogers,” Bucky laughs. “He’d die of embarrassment.”

“You’re probably right,” Angel grins. “Then maybe it is Sam’s turn.”

“Aw, you’re breaking’ my heart, Angel,” Bucky pouts, giving her the full force of his baby blues, a look he only ever reserved for his mother. Angel doesn’t fall for it; instead, she rolls her eyes and splashes a handful of water right in his face.

“You’ll be fine,” she shrugs, but hides her smile by ducking her head half down, nearly concealed in the water.

“No, I won’t,” he insists. He’s barely a foot away from her now. “I’m wounded, Angel. Really. I’m real hurt - I need your help.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah - I may not survive. You gotta help me.”

“Well, I think that’s in my job description.” Her eyes are full of moonlight, her face inches from his own. “Where are you hurt?”

He grabs her hand and places her palm firmly over his heart.

“Right here, honey,” he whispers, silly grin firmly in place. “You hurt me real bad.”

On cue, her palm starts to glow, the light filtering up through the water in glittering ripples that flicker across their faces. Just over his heart, his skin warms at her touch, a surge of energy and light and life straight into him, deep and true.

“Anywhere else?” she asks, her own voice so soft, barely heard over the cicadas in the trees.

“Yeah…here.” Taking hold of her other hand, he draws her arms up around his shoulders. His smirk twitches. “Must’ve pulled something climbing those cliffs.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she rolls her eyes, but ignites her hands anyway, the healing warmth soaking into his sore muscles and the ever-tender skin surrounding his metal arm. Not one to complain, he never mentions the trouble it causes, constant weight on his shoulders and neck, often giving him tension headaches at the base of skull. But here she is, melting it all away with a touch.

Slowly, cautiously, he lets his hands slide around her waist, thumbs gently brushing her last rib. Beneath his palms he feels her breath stutter and catch, her heart picking up. Their feet accidentally kick one another as they attempt to keep treading water, and she lets him wrap one of her legs around his waist to keep from kicking her.

“Anything else?” she whispers. He traces her face with his eyes, unable to distinguish her own glow from that of the moon beaming down on them. With a slow nod, Bucky rests his forehead against hers, shares a breath.

“Here,” he says, and tilts his head the last couple of inches until his lips meet hers.

In an instant, he feels warm all over; though his eyes are closed, he can see the light behind them like sun through closed blinds. It nearly burns, hot and holy and aching sweet, and his toes curl with it. She breaks away for a moment, just to smile so blindingly, sunbeams breaking beneath her radiant skin - and dives back in, laughing into his mouth as he tightens his hold and her hands go to his hair.

Adrift in a summer-warm lake, under a swollen July moon, they kiss and laugh and touch and play.

Under a moon half as bright, they glow.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot

[ahiddenpath]

Tips for Adding an OC to a Fanwork

I hate to be presumptuous, but I’m asked variations of, “Hidden, how do I effectively add an OC (original character) to a canon cast?” fairly often.  And I can see why!  Adding characters to a canon cast is an uphill climb!  For whatever it’s worth, I’ve written up my thoughts beneath the cut, and I truly hope they’re helpful. 

First, I’ll briefly touch on why OCs and OC-centric stories are comparatively unpopular.  

The biggest reason is simply because most people read fanfics so they can spend more time with their favorite existing characters.  A lot of folks would rather read an entirely original work than a blend of canon and original, and that’s a-okay!  It’s just a personal preference, like how some people prefer fluff and some prefer angst.

But OC-centric stories often have to contend with preexisting disdain for things like self inserts, mary sues, wish fulfillment, etc.  I’m not going to touch on how to avoid writing a self insert or mary sue, because you should be able to, if you want to!  Fanfiction is meant to be a safe place to play, explore, and create.  You do you, and don’t worry about critics!  You’re protected by your internet anonymity, and most platforms allow you to turn off anonymous reviews, which should spare you the worst of negativity.

But if your goal is to seamlessly add an OC to a canon cast, here are my suggestions for your consideration!

Consider the dynamics of the canon cast while planning your OC.

In my opinion, one of the best reasons to add an OC to a canon cast is because the cast might benefit from an additional personality type.  That is, the existing cast should inspire and influence your OC.

I hesitate to offer my main OC, Eimi Anami, as a “model OC,” but she’s what I have to work with, so please roll with me.  I’m going to reference Growing Up with You, a Digimon Adventure fic, since it’s an “add OC to canon” story.

Despite their flaws, the Chosen kiddos are exceptionally good, trusting characters.  And while many of them have complicated home lives, their difficulties are mostly caused by lack of communication/miscommunication.  This leads the kiddos to be too trusting/forgiving/naive for their own good at times.  I wondered how the dynamic might change if a new character wasn’t as trusting.  Would she be able to voice her thoughts to a group of scared, desperate kids that might not want to hear the difficult possibilities she suggested?  Would she come off as hard-hearted/jaded?  If so, what impact would that have on her, and on the team?

You want your OC to add a new flavor to the mix, and to shake up/challenge the existing dynamic.

Consider the show’s themes and try to add something new through your character, or add another facet to an existing theme.

Digimon Adventure follows some kids facing adversity in a fantasy world, which helps them grow and deal with their existing problems in their own world.  (In reality, it would probably just make MORE trauma, but hey!  xD).

I mentioned above that most of the canon cast have some family difficulties, but ultimately, the Chosen all have loving families.  They must find the courage and strength to open up and communicate.  That’s a fantastic message, and Adventure is admirably mature and ambitious in its family themes.  But too many of us come from families where we can’t communicate our problems away- or even reach understandings through family therapy.  Readers follow Eimi through this general situation in GUWY.  

In my opinion, media rarely allows us to watch a character come to terms with the fact that their abusive family will never be anything but abusive, mourn that loss, struggle with their trauma, and start their healing.  It seemed like an especially poignant message beside a bunch of kids working through a range of family difficulties in tandem.

Don’t give your OC an “in.”

In my opinion, your OC will receive the best reception if they aren’t automatically accepted in the existing group.  If your audience goes through the process of assimilating into the canon cast and earning their friendship with the OC, they are much more likely to accept the OC in turn.  It can feel jarring to open an OC fic with the OC already part of the group, since the readers don’t know them and are probably wondering where they came from, and how they befriended the cast.  Even the kindest canon cast needs time to genuinely grow close to someone.

Consider how your OC relates to the whole cast

It’s fine- and probably necessary, if the canon cast is large- to focus on your OC’s relationship with a few canon characters.  If you’re writing OC x canon character romance, that relationship will likely be the “main” focus.

But let’s say a bunch of friends go out, and the couple among them only talks to one another the whole time.  That would feel unnatural, right?  Make sure your OC is interacting with everyone in a way that feels natural.  And remember, your goal in adding an OC is to help the audience come to know and love them.  The best way to show an audience multiple sides of your character is to show them interacting with and growing close to (or further away from, lol!) a variety of people.  After all, different people draw out different aspects of our personalities.

And that’s all I’ve got right now!  I know that writing OC stories can be scary, since they aren’t popular.  But you can make some amazing stories by adding something new to something you love, and someone out there might benefit from what you have to share through your character’s eyes!  Take care, and have a blast writing!

#writing stuff #writing OCs #writing OCs tips #adding oc to canon

[katiegangel]

Give me your Hands (Thirteenth Doctor x Reader)

The Doctor finds out what you’ve been trying so hard to hide.

Warnings: Self-abuse. Dermatillomania. A.K.A Excoriation Disorder.

(Author’s Notes: This is the FIRST time I’ve ever written a reader insert fic. I’ve suffered from Excoriation Disorder since I was a kid. It’s rarely talked about and I wanted to try my hand at writing a Thirteenth Doctor x Reader based on my own experience. This is purely my experience, but I hope it can help others. I hope you guys like it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

You squealed as the icy cold water hit your skin. After dancing around the shower for a minute, you shut off the water, grabbed a towel to wrap around yourself, another to wrap around your shoulders, and headed down the TARDIS to the control room. The Doctor was standing at the console, wrench in one hand, goggles on top of her head, looking very apologetic. 

“Sorry.”

“Is there any way the water heater can be connected to something other the console?”

“Everything in here has to connected to the console (Y/N),” The Doctor said, quite mater-of-factly.

“Okay,” You were shivering. “How about this? Is there any way you cannot be working on the console when I am in the shower?”

“In my defense, I honestly didn’t know working on the photon accelerator coils affected the TARDIS water temperatures,” The Doctor said. “But now I know and now we both learned something new today!”

It was impossible to resist. Her joy was infectious. And she was insanely happy when she learned something new. You smiled.

“I guess we did,” you relented.

“Okay,” The Doctor said. “Promise. No fixing the photon accelerator coils until you’re done with your shower.”

“No fixing ANYTHING until I’m done with my shower!” You called back. You started to leave. The towel around your shoulders slipped slightly.

“(Y/N)?” You heard the Doctor’s voice again. But the joyful tone was gone. Replaced with something you never liked to hear. Confusion. Concern.

You turned to see the Doctor staring at you. She moved away from the console.

“Whats that on your back?”

You froze. Not here. Not now. Not with her. You hadn’t held the towel tight enough. You backed away as she came closer, fear rising by the second.

“It’s… it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not,” The Doctor said, her voice serious, but the second she saw you shrink away, she stopped moving towards you. She stood there, reading your expression. “Show me your back.”

“It was from what happened today. When I fell and got scratched up. I didn’t want to worry-“

“Please,” The Doctor said.

You’d heard that tone before. From actual doctors. The gentle demand, mixed with concern, knowing they’d have to brace themselves for what they might see. You held the towel tighter.

“It’s…” You were shaking now. You’d tried everything to prevent the Doctor from seeing this. Long pants, long shirts, even when you were on desert planets. The Doctor always asked if you were hot. You were… but you didn’t care.

You’d traveled along side the Doctor. Made new friends with her. Saved worlds with her. Fought off demons you could have never imagined with her.

This was your own demon and while you were fighting, you hadn’t beaten it yet.

She hadn’t moved, but there was a pleading look in her eyes. The one that said. “I just want to help.” You knew she did. You just… it was so embarrassing… something so personal.

What would she say? Would she be shocked? Angry? Upset you never told her? 

You lowered the towel slightly, turing around and showing her your back. The fresh marks. The old scars. The ones still in the middle of healing. You heard her come towards you, stopping when she could get a clear look at your back. You felt her fingers lightly touch some of the marks, though her fingers pulled away when she felt you shaking.

“Oh,” she breathed, her voice so soft. “Oh, (Y/N).”

You were too scared to turn around, too nervous to talk. You heard a rusting of fabric and felt something warm drape over your shoulders. The Doctor’s coat. You turned around. Her expression was soft, sad, so gentle you nearly wanted to sob.

“Did you do this?” She asked softly.

You nodded. “Excoriation Disorder.”

“Do you want to tell me how long?” It was inquisitive. Not demanding. A chance to back away if you didn’t want to.

“…since I was a kid,” You said. “It was worse then. Therapy has helped… a little… I just… I see them… I see all these things wrong with me. Things I have to get out… things that…” You began to cry. 

You cried into her shoulder as her arms enveloped you. She moved slightly, rocking you as you cried.

“I can’t… I can’t stop… a part of me… a part of me likes it too much…”

After a few minutes, she stepped away, a light hand on your cheek. Thumb stroking it gently.

“I know you see things you think are real,” she said. “What you think is imperfect… it’s not.”

“I know,” You sniffled. “I just…”

Two warm hands collected yours and held them gently, like she was a butterfly she caught that she wanted to show you before letting it go.

“You know what?” She said. “From now on, whenever you feel like doing this, will you make me a promise?”

“… what?” You asked softly.

“No matter what. No matter where we are, if you feel this way, I want you to give me your hands. I’ll hold them for you. I’ll keep them safe. And we can talk.”

“… it’s so embarrsing.”

“No,” The Doctor said. “It’s not at all. I’m just… I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you before.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I know… but I’m sorry all the same.”

You looked at your entwined hands. “You’ll… you’ll always hold them?”

“Yes,” She nodded.

“… even if we’re being chased by a Dalek?”

“ESPECIALLY if we’re being chased by a Dalek,” She replied. “I’ll need your mind on running especially then. Not hurting yourself.”

You looked at her hands again. “It’ll be hard for me.”

“Challenges always are,” She replied. “But I’ll be there for you. Every step of the way.”

The corners of your lips turn up, tears still in your eyes. “… Okay… I’ll give it my all.”

“Brilliant!” The Doctor smiled, lifting your hands and kissing them. “These are incredible hands. Meant for wonderful things. Much better spent on creating that hurting!”

You burst out laughing. How did she always know the right thing to say?

END.

#thirteenth doctor x reader #Doctor who #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #doctor who imagine #13th doctor #Dermatillomania #excoriation disorder #self abuse #healing #reader insert #the doctor x reader #jodie whittaker #gender netural reader

[sunevial]

Reflection

Author’s Notes and Commentary

Well, here we are at the end.

When I started writing The Followers, I genuinely didn’t think it would come this far. I wasn’t setting out to write a literal novel’s worth of content (122,655 words between everything before I edit the original Followers fic, to be precise) about some self-insert OCs that some friends and I ended up creating on a whim. When I started with this project, it was supposed to be some fun little things between friends, a little like DMP in that regard: a fun fic writing with friends where plenty of bad things happen. Except like its source material, it turned into something much greater than even its creator could’ve imagined. 

Nearly everything that we came up with was pure speculation, because at the time, DMP didn’t have a lot of solid lore to build a more canon-compliant AU (not that I/we were ever trying to do that in the first place, but I digress). Part of me is a bit sad that I was never able to incorporate other Awakened or even write fics centered around the Awakened as opposed to the Followers; at the time most of this was being written, there simply weren’t enough characters in DMP for me to have a cast I could write with. By the time there were, there was no way I could take on another project of this size. The Followers fit that niche of having a relatively large cast with varying interpersonal dynamics that DMP now has, and at the very least, I am glad to see I was able to predict something in the major narrative.

This being said, as a person, I love making self insert characters for stories and media. In my eyes, if I can see myself or a character I have made interacting with a world someone else has created, that piece of media has made a world that others can see themselves in. Even in its early days, DMP created a world that I felt could be expanded upon beyond what we were explicitly told, which is how the Followers really came to be in the first place. Even if none of it is canon, the lore of the Followers still reasonably fits with the information we were given in Season 1, and that makes me happy.

(No, I’m never updating this to explore what we know as of season 3.)

A lot has changed since I started writing the Followers, and more broadly, writing anything for myself again. For those who didn’t know, I had a lot of hangups writing fanfiction for a long time due to some events in my past, and it wasn’t until DMP that I felt both inspired enough and comfortable enough with the community surrounding it to branch out into fic writing once again. Throughout this two and a half year journey, material and backstory elements were fleshed out behind the scenes, quite a bit of stuff got retconned within the Follower’s AU, and overall, I have quite simply changed as a writer and a person. I’ve made a lot of amazing friends (and a significant other) in this process, interacted with a lot of wonderful people, and in something that surprised even me, some of the DMP cast themselves have read my work. It’s really helped me break out of my shell and branch out into other avenues, and I genuinely don’t know where I’d be without writing the Followers.

So, to everyone who has been here on this journey, whether you helped develop the characters (shout outs to my fellow creators, Onyx, Missfoxx, ArcherOwl, Arahul, CollectorOfMyst, Caaarl, KyleTheWarrior, you guys are sincerely wonderful and amazing people to work with), been an avid fan of the series, or have simply enjoyed watching all of this from the side lines: thank you. I couldn’t have done this alone, and I’m glad to have gone on this journey with you all.

The Followers: Agents of Stories

I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t have a working theme going into this whole novel long journey, but I will be touching on some of the various themes I began to weave into the story as time went on.

The truth matters.

The truth is the single most driving factor throughout the series. Characters uncover each other’s backstories, Young Priest learns the real reason why the stories of the Followers have been so inconsistent, Vincent learns the truth about his wife, and even the readers of this fic learn the truth about the lore I’ve created for this AU. Wanting to know what is really going on is really the driver of any modern narrative, because it’s often the readers who are in the dark since we can only experience things from (typically) one perspective as we read. 

Truth, like history, is often written by the victors and people in power.

Murder God and the Followers are experts at lying. To them, truth is a tool, and whoever knows the truth has the most power. The truth is complicated, the truth is messy, and for beings that powerful, the truth is objectively dangerous. If word gets out Gale is the Witch’s daughter, if too many people know Young Priest’s sister is in the Void, if people learn that Priestess actually cares about Lieutenant, that gives other people power over them. This is where the idea of unreliable narrators also comes into play; there’s simply things that the reader doesn’t know because of who’s POV they’re experiencing the world through and what they’re going to care about letting other people know. They don’t want people to know the truth. I

A story’s message is more important than the truth.

Good narratives and good historical records rarely intersect well. There’s always going to be embellishment, stuff that is left out or skimmed over, or timelines that are changed to better suit the story someone is trying to tell. Because the truth is often written by people in power, it makes sense for the general scope of the narrative to be prioritized over getting every single detail correct. No one actually cares if Witch lost her pregnancy, if Huntress was killed by another god, if Advisor actually feared something happening to him. People care about the Witch, the human who has fallen from grace. People care about the Huntress, bringer of vengeance and the hunt. People care about the Advisor, collector of knowledge and secrets. As long as the mythos is served, who cares about the truth?

General Questions

What is the order the Followers joined?

Old Priestess, Lieutenant, Witch, Bookkeeper, Advisor, Huntress, Part Timer, Young Priest

What do all of the Followers represent in terms of game rolls?

Old Priestess and Lieutenant are the Murderers, Witch is the Witch (you can save someone and you can kill someone), Bookkeeper is the Minion (aids the murderers but does not partake in the killings), Advisor is the Seer, Huntress is the Gunslinger, Part Timer is the Doctor/Bodyguard (protect one person every night), and Young Priest is the Gardener.

How many of the Followers have been replaced?

Less than you think. Witch is the last in a long line of typically human or quasi-immortal witches who didn’t survive. The Young Priest position has changed hands multiple times due to that role actively needing some human morality to work properly, which usually results in minds being broken or rebellions taking place. 

Can Old Priestess and Lieutenant bleed?

Old Priestess, yes. Lieutenant, no, but I suppose he could make blood if he really felt like it.

The Masquerade chapter mentioned something about Priestess having "ichor" that helped stabilize Bookkeepers' blood. What is that quote un quote ichor?

It’s just her own blood. Priestess donated her own blood to help stabilize Bookkeeper.

How many years did it take for Bookkeeper’s legs to heal? Are there any scars?

Time doesn’t really exist in the Void, but if I had to put a number to it, about ten years. There are some very small scars, but they’re not easy to see. Bookkeeper also never wears anything that isn’t long sleeved, so take that as you will.

Could you stick your hand through Part Timer’s eye hole? How does he function with half of his skin gone? Does he get blood everywhere?

Yes, you can, but you’d soon hit red strings. His muscle tissue and bones are held together with magic and magic alone, so his ‘undead’ side needs blood only in the vaguest sense. That being said, his clothes are almost always bloodstained to some extent, so that blood has to come from somewhere.

What are the Followers’ opinions on sleeping? Do any of them need sleep?

None of them need sleep. Most of them are too busy to ever want sleep. Huntress occasionally lies down for a nap, and Witch slept a fair bit while she was raising Gale.

How do Advisor's…emotion switches work? Could they get unwillingly triggered by something?

The switches are more metaphorical. The idea is that since he understands how emotions are processed and created and how he responds to them, he can willingly enable or disable his ability to feel them. This also means he can, in theory, control his mood at all given times. However, as shown in Inter Spem et Metum, if he has had no reason to experience a certain emotion until that exact moment, it can temporarily render that control useless, as he doesn’t know enough about it to control it.

Can any of them get sick? If yes, what could cause it and how would they get better?

Biological illness, no. Curse based illnesses, yes. Typically if one of them were to get cursed by something strong enough to hold, Witch would be the one to break it. She’s their primary curse breaker. If Witch gets cursed, the others know enough about curse breaking to get her out of it.

Can they get sick from something their own bodies do (ie. hives from stress, allergies)?

Almost all of their bodies are so infused with magic that most problems that would plague mortals aren’t as much of a concern. It would be a little bit like, say, Aphrodite getting hives from stress. While she might look human, she’s definitely not, and a lot of the problems that come with being human don’t apply.

When did Retribution take place?

Before Part Timer joined. That’s the closest to an actual answer you’re going to get.

How many of the Followers actually know each other’s stories?

Everyone has an inkling of the truth of the others, but only Witch and Bookkeeper have let the others know their full story. Bookkeeper has never really cared, and Witch was all but forced to tell her full story. 

Are there any ships that the creators ship among the Followers?

Old Priestess and Lieutenant is shipped by Old Priestess’s creator (Missfoxx), Lieutenant’s creator (Onyx), and me. It’ll never be canon, because Lieutenant doesn’t know what love feels like and Old Priestess will never admit her own feelings, but it is a strong ship between the three of us. Bookkeeper’s creator (Caaarl) and I actually ship Bookkeeper and Witch due to their unspoken bond they developed being the only former humans amongst ancient deities and eldritch entities. Again, non canon, but it’s definitely an exploration for both of us how the two of them would cope with such traumatic transformations.    

What actually happened with Vincent’s wish in Chapter 20?

This was intentionally left vague due to it being from Vincent’s point of view, and Vincent calls himself not a smart man. Essentially, Murder God and the Followers caused a timeline divergence due to their canon ability to fuck up timelines as they so desire. Gale still married Vincent Marshall Reid, but he simply just died in the war overseas and never took Murder God’s deal. Vincent Marshall Reid of DMP canon instead grew up in West Virginia and married Abigail Crane. Essentially, the two of them exist in different timelines now, unable to ever interact again in any meaningful way.

Is Gale going to be okay?

Gale is Witch’s daughter. Witch refuses to let Gale get mixed up with the cults. Even with her current actions and making a deal with Murder God, Gale is considered a free agent and always will be a free agent. She and the kids will be fine. Star sickness isn’t a thing in the Followers AU either, so she won’t be coughing up goop.

What is actually going to happen to Young Priest in Chapter 21?

That’s meant for reader speculation; part of the horror of the Followers is not knowing specifically what they’re willing to do to someone and how far they’re willing to go to make someone into the image they need. I’ll probably expand on how I think he turns out once everything has been done to him, but I can tell you this. His eyes are turned a solid sparkling blue.

#the followers #the strings that bind us together #don't read this until you've read chapter 21 #or do #there's spoilers under the readmore

[redheadgleek]

Get ready, girl - Questions 1-50. Yup, I want them all. ;)

You are terrible and I love you for it. I’m only do ten at a time, because I have to go to work soon. 

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

My first published fic was What A Wonderful World for Gilmore Girls. I still love it - it was a fic that entirely engrossed me when writing it and I still love the feelings that I captured. It’s not the first fic I ever wrote - I may or may not have written self-insert fic for Lois & Clark back in high school, but that has been long since lost…

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

I’m going to link to my most recent completed fic, which was written a year and a half ago for the TDB fic exchange, With Song and Celebration. I use a beta reader now for my fic, which I highly recommend - they give great feedback on how ideas flow, they inspire additional idea, and they also tame the grammar/spelling errors. I know that I’ve matured as a writer over the last decades, but I couldn’t tell you exactly how. I’m definitely more comfortable with writing what I want to write and read. 

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

I love all of my children equally! (A Wedding: Production Draft). 

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

A Wedding: Production Draft. That one has the most notes, kudos and comments of any of my fic. 

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

I actually love rereading all of my fic. I’m not a very prolific writer and they all give me a great sense of pride. I accomplished this - my brain produced these ideas and words and put them down on paper (a process that was near agony) and then people have read and liked them too. 

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

No, not really. The really terrible self-insert fics were deleted when I switched computers long ago. 

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

I am so excited about my upcoming fic, Love Me At Once. It’s a rewritten fairy tale (I bet you can’t guess which one) that plays with some of my favorite tropes and it’s been an self-indulgent treat (I’ve just had so much fun sliding in references to my favorite movies and TV shows that I hope others pick up on). Soon. 

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

This is the year that I want to finish Like Never Before. It’s been over 15 years (!!!) since I last updated it and there’s just two chapters left to complete it. I’ve long moved on from the fandom, so I don’t have the characters’ voices in my head any more, which definitely makes it challenging. Nobody will read it (very few people read it before when I was publishing it, as friendship fics aren’t super popular), but I just want the joy of the accomplishment. 

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

No. I’ve read fanfic that I knew nothing about the source material, but I’ve never tried to write it. 

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Once upon a time, I started brainstorming for a fic for Ed Greene/Olivia Benson from Law & Order/SVU and I’ve never read any fanfic in those fandoms (I looked and never found anything that caught my fancy. This may be my rarest of rare pair ships as I’m pretty sure it was a fandom of just one (they would have been so pretty together and could heal so many core wounds). 

#fanfic writing meme #part 1 of 5 #spaceorphan18

[avelera]

Chapters: 25/25 Fandom: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Guzma (Pokemon)/Reader Characters: Guzma (Pokemon), Hala (Pokemon), Plumeria (Pokemon), Kuchinashi | Nanu, Dr. Kukui | Professor Kukui Additional Tags: Post-Game(s), Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Fingerfucking, Anger Management, Anger, Vaginal Sex, Light Bondage Summary:

Seeing Guzma back with his parents is a bit more painful than you might realize at first.

--

I wanted to take a second to rec this fic by @irinokat, the first lengthy one I read after getting bitten by The Guzma Bug (TM) (pun totally intended). It’s a really fascinating, well-written fic that doesn’t shy away from his anger issues or sweep them under the rug. It presents a powerful, nuanced exploration of the character, and a romance that had me more than once clutching my chest from feels or hugging myself as I giggled with delight. It may be the best Guzma romance fic out there, though I admit I have not read exhaustively, it is by far my favorite, as is this writer’s take on him in general (even including the game).

One thing I found fascinating after delving briefly into Pokemon fic was the second-person tense used by writers so prevalently. I admit I had seen it around on Tumblr, especially for het romances. In a way, it seems to have replaced the typical Mary Sue or self-insert. At least for video games, I admit the second person makes a lot of sense and actually overcomes an issue I had with reading video game based fic where the main character is customizable, such as Mass Effect or Dragon Age. 

But second person is really hard to write. Most of the time the mere mention of it, with very few exceptions, is enough to make me quit right out of a story. The fact that this is becoming a popular method of writing romance is really fascinating to me on its own. The prevalence of (Popular Character)/Reader stories was one I rolled my eyes at initially, I just didn’t think it was possible that it could be good. @irinokat showed me that I was wrong in my assumption. It is still undoubtedly a difficult method of writing, it can be confusing, disorienting, and shallow at times. But it is also possible for amazing stories like “Healing” to be written. There was complexity in the POV I have rarely seen. Though we didn’t delve much into the POV protagonist’s past, I still felt like I knew her intimately. The second person allowed me to continue to see my own player character and myself in the narrative, but also to feel the differences with little hints of the character’s own unique story t. I also felt intimately close to the author, as if we were one person, and there was incredibly sympathy and empathy conveyed through that atypical writing style that was totally unique. 

I’m now keeping an eye out on this Character/Reader trend, rather than simply dismissing it. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we see it become hugely popular in the world of printed romance novels within the next decade (if it isn’t already and I’m just ignorant of the trend). It is absolutely fascinating to me how this trend amongst young women (largely, but not exclusively of course) writing romance fic for themselves and one another has evolved and could actually becoming something with real literary merit and quality, something I think this author of this fic demonstrated. @irinokat is extremely skilled and I look forward to reading more of her work. I also highly recommend this fic to anyone who enjoys the Pokemon franchise and would like to see serious, well-written, mature fic for those games. 

#pokemon #guzma #fanfiction #fic rec #irinokat

[lavendershadows]

A Masterpost of All my Online Fics

I’ve been writing fanfiction for ages. Okay, well...maybe not as long as other people. Three to four years. I’ve had 3-4 accounts where my stuff has been posted, and I’ve only deleted one of them (to be fair, it was a deviantART and there was embarrassing/old art on there so...). I kind of just want this list for myself tbh. A masterpost of some old stuff. So, here goes. (also, not going to list doubles if I’ve posted them across 2-3 of the accounts)

people who know me irl: pls, don’t

As writing stands right now, I barely write anymore, and I do have ideas, but they’ll probably never come to much fruit, or be posted. All they’d be is practice. So...yeah. I don’t want to let it go, but writing is a rare hobby of mine now. 

Fanfiction.net : ShadowLink5 - zelda, four swords, ssbb, doctor who

Kidnapped: Link from Twilight Princess, after the events of the game, gets kidnapped by a very special someone from Skyward Sword. 

(attempted) Four Swords 100-Theme Challenge: Just what it says. Never did get far.

Choice: MAN this was a huge self-insert project that took two years and it was an awful writing that involved ShadowxOCxVio love triangle WOOH BOY

Quintuple Quarrels: A fic to accompany a piece of art, basically just Red/Green/Blue interactions along with Vio/Shadow. Back when I shipped Vidow and RedxBlue. Although I did change it so it wouldn’t be shippy at all.

Christmas Day: A cute fluffy Christmas fic for the Four Swords! Would actually recommend reading.

Just a Copy: Some weird Super Smash Bros Brawl fic I wrote don’t even 

Her: A Rose/Eleven fic, from Doctor Who. I shipped that hard. 

Wattpad : Geerard_BlackParade - band fics- Black Veil Brides, My Chemical Romance...some Four Swords rewrites...an original...Dan and Phil, basically

Help Me Heal: A readerxAndy Biersack (Black Veil Brides/Andy Black) fic where the reader and the band members get kidnapped. Blew up more than it should’ve tbh

Breaking Away from the Darkness: A rewrite of the Four Swords 100 Theme Challenge, taking two of the themes! Would actually recommend reading.

The Green Card: Something I wrote based off of @105ttt​‘s headcanons! Would actually recommend reading.

Short Prompts: Some original prompts! They’re kinda crap but I mean they got some attention, so...

Sleepovers at Midnight: A readerxDan Howell/danisnotonfire fic I wrote for a friend. 

The Basket: A fic I wrote based off of one of Phil/AmazingPhil’s oldschool YouTube videos. 

Uni with Dan and Phil: Another self-insert for Dan and Phil, in college...never made it far.

Make Some Noise: Some Danger Days/My Chemical Romance fanfiction that I was pretty excited about. It was an OC in the desert surviving with the Killjoys. Never went far either. 

a 30-day mcr challenge that doesn’t count: 30 Day Challenge I found on dA forever ago.

A Day with MCR: Some dumb MCR fic I wrote about the reader/self-insert meeting the MCR members.

Autistic Kobra Kid (headcanons): I wrote out a couple of someone’s autistic!kobra kid Danger Days headcanons (MCR). I would tag them but their blog isn’t really here anymore. @autistickobrkid maybe?

Time Flies: ANOTHER self-insert BVB fic.

I Like It That Way- A short basement!gerard (Gerard Way) imagine, whatever

Yes, I’ve Missed You - Old, kinda shippy (don’t ship anymore rip) Gerard/Frank, friendship-ish fic/imagine

Falling in Love Will Kill You - Pretty much the same as the last one except WAY more shippy and less friendship-ish. //shame

AO3/Archive of Our Own : existentialspook - newer stuff, rewrites

Quintuple Quarrels (rewrite) - Would actually kinda recommend reading. 

~the rest have been published elsewhere~

If anyone is ACTUALLY interested in reading any of these, I’d go to my AO3 account, that has the newest/best stuff. I think they’re all Four-Swords related.

wow i had written a lot over like 3 years

TL;DR: I wrote a lot of stuff. Here are the ones I’d actually recommend, linked above in bold italics (all Four Swords): 

- Christmas Day

- Breaking Away from the Darkness

- The Green Card 

- Quintuple Quarrels rewrite 

found HERE

#four swords #dan and phil #fanfiction #black veil brides #my chemical romance #my fics #reference #my fanfiction

[doctorshufflepuff]

My current relationship with the idea of romance (and tangentially related concerns) - feel free to ignore.

A friend pointed out I should probably do some journaling about this stuff, so here goes.

I like the idea of a romantic relationship. The good parts, the parts you see at the end of movies and in cheesy music videos. I want someone to tell me, “I want to be as close to you as you want me to be, because I like you, because something in you just makes me happy.” And I want to go stargazing with them and go watch the sun set with them and tag them in posts and buy/make them things that remind me of them. I want their eyes to light up when they think of me as much as mine do for them.

And I want to be physically close, too. I want them to spin me around the dance floor or across the living room, to let me dip them and then kiss them. I want to tuck my face in their shoulder when I can’t face the world. I want to curl up and watch a movie with them snuggled up under a pile of blankets. I want to kiss them, gently, on the hand or on the shoulder or on the cheek when they’re not expecting it (with prior permission of course) and watch their eyes go soft. I want to lay my head in their lap while they pet my hair and we talk about stuff. I want them to reach out to me just because they like it when we’re touching.

Additionally. I’m thirsty af, but there’s no way I’ll be able to get nasty with someone before we’re emotionally close, so there’s that.

I want to support them when they need it, and let them support me. I want to be able to talk about heavy topics and actually get somewhere. I want someone who’s a peer, an equal, and I want to be able to be vulnerable with them while still feeling safe.

And I’m scared as all hell.

I’m scared of not being stable or grounded enough to be a decent girlfriend, not being able to give support or even have the time to put into a relationship. I’m scared I’ll put too much of my identity into the relationship, that I won’t have the stability to hold my own self in the midst of trying to be something new with someone else, that I’ll completely fall apart when it ends. I’m scared no one will want this stuff with me instead of with someone better or smarter or funnier or more interesting. I’m scared to get close and then have them realize something or other about me and go, “ew, never mind.” I’m scared of getting hurt, and I’m scared of hurting them.

I’m scared I want these things as proof of my self-worth, not for themselves or for the sake of being happy with another person. That’s the end of the movie, right? That’s when you know you’ve won - the couple kisses, the main plot winds up, and the credits roll. Happy ever after. I’m really worried about this in particular because my crushes all seem to be about the relationship we could have, not about the person themself. How they could make me happy, how I could make them happy (and thus feel good about myself?), how they would fit into the picture in the first few paragraphs, but not actually about them. What kind of partner would I be if I’m just trying to fit them into my narrative? Better avoid the whole thing.

And then again, maybe I’m trying to talk myself out of something I really want because it’s scary. I’ve been known to do that.

Because, it’s not quite true, is it? Bits of my crushes keep showing up in my writing, little markers that don’t mean much to anyone else, but to me combine to be statistically unlikely to reference anyone else. Things like, how a background character likes this, and that, and moves just so - that’s them, whoops. Or, oh, suddenly I’ve got an OC whose past is dedicated to exploring how pain can make you kind because I really really like Amy Pond. I think I do care about people for themselves more than I realize.

Some days I’m hopeful. I can picture myself living for life’s sake, changing arbitrary defaults just because it makes me smile, filling my little universe with plants and fairy lights and faux-leather jackets and workouts that leave me exhausted but grinning. Those are days I can accept that I have value just by being. Those are the days I can picture myself happy without someone else and therefore able to be healthy with someone else.

Ugh, why does my sense of self-worth have to be so tangled up in this? Can’t it just be its own thing? Probably because it’s fundamental, and going to insert itself into every problem I run into until I get it resolved. Except it’s not really going to be a switch I can flip - this is a healing thing that needs time and work that I’m not always brave enough to give it. I can’t put everything on hold until I’m settled, because it’s not something I can count on ever truly settling. I have a college degree to survive (and a life to live) in the meantime goddammit.

Maybe it would be unkind to my partner to have a relationship while I’m this insecure. Probably. I’d have to be really up front about it, at least, but that would happen anyway because I apparently stream-of-consciousness my problems at anyone I’m close enough to. Relationships can be good support while you work on yourselves together, right?

No. I shouldn’t do that to myself, or to them. I need to reach some sort of threshold of improvement first. Even if I’ll still have bad days and can’t really mark this bug as fixed, I have to get to a place with a lot more good days before I drag invite someone else in with me.

Part of me is throwing an absolute fit at that. The child part of my inner monologue sounds something like this: If not now, when? Do I ever get to have another relationship? What if I never get there? My past relationships were pretty darn problematic, do I ever get a good one? It’s not faaaaaair. I’m running out of time on one crush in particular that seemed sorta maybe like it might eventually go somewhere, which is Rare, so what if I miss them and then never see them again? I wanna kiss ’em and hear what they think about everything while we lie awake in the middle of the night! I don’t wanna give up on this person in particular! And, what if I can’t find another person who seems like they might maybe want to date me? What if I’m alone foreeeever?

Okay. Hopefully got that out of my system for the moment. 

Clearly there are a few issues with thinking that way - I might not date anyone. Literally ever again. And I want to be okay with that. Yes, the sappy sweet stuff that comes with dating is really appealing and I love the idea of it, and maybe I’ll get there. But I don’t need it. @me did you hear that I don’t need it! I can have a happy, full life with close friends and no significant other. It’s not required. Promise.

And it’s worth waiting for. Having a good handle on my values and my personal value will make any relationship hella more healthy, not to mention happy. For me and for the other person. And in a world with way too many people, there are definitely multiple good ones who are also interested in me. There’s gotta be, right?

As to that particular crush (which is really what this whole thing is about, admit it),  I don’t like the answer, which is probably let it go. I just went through more words than are in most of my fics to decide I’m not in a good place to date, dammit. I have to be better friends with them before anything becomes possible anyway. Maybe by then I’ll be doing better. Maybe I won’t. But for now, I need to drop it.

*** Hey reader, if you made it this far, I’m curious what you think. Drop me a pm or shoot me an ask, if you don’t mind. Is there any really obvious doublethink I’m missing? Did you come to the same conclusion I did, or do you think I’m totally wrong (please tell me I’m wrong)?

#please don't reblog this #swearing #shufflepuff speaks