#*currently. GOD i wish i could edit tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Hackers stole 65M passwords from Tumblr in 2013.

#*currently. GOD i wish i could edit tags

cherubfae · 2 months

Note

Hello! I'm not sure if you do single characters or not but What if the reader (who's a big fan of horror) wanted to show Alastor some classic horror movies. Their reasoning? "So you can make fun of it," If you do a collection of characters, then it can be like a movie night for the hotel.

Hiya love!! Yes, I do! In fact I'm currently working on a longer Alastor fic at the moment :)) it's like this request was made for me bc I 100% will force Alastor to watch the Scream franchise with me 😭 it's my fave. I'm a mega horror fan, haha! Maybe I'll have to write for slashers again like I used to! I'll just write Al since he deserves some love for himself!! Pls excuse me bc now I'm gonna be thinking about 1920s GhostFace Alastor 😩😩🩷💕

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie? || Alastor x reader

tags: fluff, gn!reader, Alastor critiquing horror media, plot to the Scream franchise, my horror obsession might be showing lmao

Getting Alastor to have anything to do with post 1930s technology was a task and a half. He might've made a deal with Vaggie not to have anything to do with such frivolous technology, but you weren't Vaggie. You were his sweet, dear partner. And he'd never admit just how tightly wrapped he was around your finger.

He seemed to genuinely enjoy the first few Halloween movies as well as the first Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Alastor took a great of interest with Hannibal Lector from The Silence of Lambs. He was deeply considering watching the television series you told him of. He thinks Freddy Krueger is a piece of shit and wished he could do him in with his own hands.

The next movie, however, seemed more susceptible to being torn to pieces by his ever-watchful eye.

"So the point of this picture show is what... Billy is angry because his mother abandoned him and he doesn't know how to deal with those big feelings at his age?" Alastor gives an indignant snort, looking bemused at the old television screen currently playing a VHS of Wes Craven's 1996 slasher classic Scream. That's as new of tech as Alastor would allow, so you made do.

Snorting out a laugh, you lean against his arm. Alastor's crackling gaze flickers to you his smile softening around the edges. He did very much adore your laugh.

"That about sums it up, yes," you grin, biting down on the corner of your chocolate bar.

Alastor leans his back against the sofa, pulling the blanket wrapped around you two closer. "I don't know how that Macher boy thinks that peer pressure is a justifiable defense for murdering people." He unwraps his own piece of bitter chocolate and pops it into his mouth. "Own up to your choices, for Heaven's sake. And people find these two attractive? Are they not in love with one another? Surely anyone with two good working eyes could see this."

The sixth Scream movie damn near has Alastor foaming at the mouth, each and every movie felt as repetitive as the last with slight twists and changes. He was polite to keep most critiques to himself, eyeing how much you clearly enjoyed showing something so near and dear to your heart. While the plot was rather lackluster, he had to admit he was interested in the severe brutality of the sixth and despite his opposition to new media, felt that it was a decent enough film. With such a repetitive storyline, he didn't really expect that sort of twist.

"There's one more we can watch!" You grin, holding up your copy of Scary Movie. Alastor's eyes look ready to pop out of his skull as if to say 'Oh god, another??' "I don't think you'll guess who the GhostFace is!"

"Is it the man called Doofy?"

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"What the fuck-- how."

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor headcanons #cherubfae 2024

299 notes · View notes

coentinim · 17 days

Text

Crime scene

ADULT + DARK CONTENT - MDNI !

JPM is beautiful in the act of killing, how can his wife not appreciate that?

Contains: descriptions of murder (not of reader), gore, blood, sexual content (at a fresh crime scene), you are (almost) as deranged as him, you are married to him, dead dove - please feast <3

I am not responsible for what you see on the internet!

Edit: forgot to tag people T_T

@fear-is-truth @taintandviolent @feefymo @slutforgarlogan @silverzoomies @yandereunsolved @maeriavizsendingjpmdose @evanpetersbf @carniv0reev

You heard it again. Those screams, those ear piercing, mind shattering screams of some poor soul being gutted alive. Supposedly, the walls were soundproof, but you could hear well and clear the wails of another one of James' victims in the next room. Perhaps the wall connecting your rooms was the only one he didn't line with asbestos... and on purpose for sure. He wants you to hear.

A young woman - no older than 25, judging by the noise - was currently being sliced open slowly and deliberately by your husband's hand. After only being married to him for a few weeks, you could already tell apart the screams of terror before a quick death and pained, tortured wails of a slow one. And during this time, you've grown accustomed to this peculiar hobby of his, even fond of it at times. His bloodlust and cruelty were undeniably fascinating, and having the honour of being the only person he never wished to harm was something to cherish. His debauchery was just contagious, really!

Curiosity had overcome you, and you decided to check what exactly was your beloved doing as he worked. And oh, were you amazed at the sight when you entered his room.

The screaming was so much louder and clearer here, begs for mercy - even for a quicker, painless death - made for a terrifying noise, but you paid them no mind. Oh no, you focus was on your husband only. He was a true artist, the way he worked the woman's body like it was an instrument, a work of art for art's sake, a horrible perversion of what a piece should look like. A bloody image it was - James was cutting all over her skin, ignoring the wails, and carving flesh with quick, steady strokes of the knife. You couldn't help but come closer, almost beside him, and you made your presence known by walking into his line of sight. He raised his eyes from the half-dead girl to you and you noticed his expression. He did not look human, not even one bit. His eyes were widened, pupils engorged and cheeks flushed bright red. He wore the mask, the strange mask you didn't know the purpose of that made him look like a horrible monster mothers warn their children about. He did not wear the apron he usually did, though. His white shirt (one of the informal, "not as good ones", you recalled) was half unbuttoned and stained crimson with the explosions of the woman's blood. In the act, he looked like a beast. He was panting when he stopped skinning the woman to gaze at you.

"My darling, I didn't- hah, disturb you, did I?"

His voice from behind the metal and leather sounded different, too. Savage. Inhuman.

"No, Jimmy, I was just curious..."

You gazed at the wailing woman on the table. Dear god, she was a mess... her arms and thighs were a mosaic of cuts, some more refined and artistic, some deep and rough, careless. She was almost bare, her under dress riding up enough to only cover her breasts, and only a small pair of knickers on her bottom. You hummed in approval; James listened to your rules against seeing his victims naked unless necessary. But you quickly turned your attention to her stomach, because that was certainly a sight to behold! Around the navel, there were a few deep lacerations, one of them definitely deep enough to penetrate muscle and cut into the intestine. The blood flowing out in rhythm with the erratic pulses of her heart covered her pristine underwear, making her look downright pornographic. It wasn't hard to understand his savage interests in such moments - the bloody, shining gash on her stomach was a curious sight, to say the least. It truly looked nasty; that must be why she was writhing in pain so much. She seemed to beg for your help, but it was unintelligible - besides, there was no saving her now, she had lost too much blood. Not that you would have saved her otherwise - she would just run to the nearest police officer and get you and your husband arrested. Accepting James might be hard at times, but seeing him executed while people leered at his undeniably painful demise would have been much harder. He was hard to love, and hard to let go of.

You trailed your hand over her split stomach, ignoring the thrashing and protests.

"May I?", you asked.

James' eyes lightened up even more, humanity mixing with the animal in him.

"Would I ever deny my darling wife to share my pleasures?", he replied in his syrupy voice distorted by the metal mask, the terrifying sound making your head spin. He was the only one who could scare you yet make you feel so safe.

You kept looking him in the eyes, barely visible under the eye protection, while slowly putting two fingers into the woman's wound. You were terrified, but you just wanted to tease your James just a bit, just a tad... It was wonderful. The quiet, pained screech, the blood exploding under your fingertips and the pulse of her insides. It felt like touching something slimy, is that what James felt upon fingering your cunt? He absolutely adores doing it, and now you see why; the texture is nothing short of divine. Your ministrations had a great effect on your husband, as he started panting and gripped the edge of the table the woman was sprawled on. Oh, he was hungry like a wolf at that moment. You let go of the victim's body after just two seconds, slightly disgusted with yourself, observing your bloodied hand and James' face. It was hard to see anything but his nose and eyebrows through the mask, but you knew he was more aroused than ever. In fact, you feared him. He was terrifying in his murderous attire, even more so now that his body language radiated pure hunger. You held his killer gaze for a few long seconds until something made him glance away. Right. The woman.

To your surprise, she was still making noises despite the blood loss. James walked right past you, close to her face, and held her cheek almost tenderly. Her gaze was unfocused, but she tried to squirm away from his touches. In response he just gripped her chin tight and tutted at her hazy thrashes. He raised his blade and sliced her neck open, so deep the blood exploded in his face. She went quiet rather quickly after that.

You saw him kill a dozen times, yet it always stunned you just how predatory it looked. His muscles taut, the vulgar display of vitality, as if he absorbed the life force of his newest victim.

Slowly, James turned to face you. He was dead silent, and at that angle you couldn't see his eyes. Your instinct told you to back away, so, naturally, you stepped forward, your thighs slick with arousal from the fear and guilt.

The growl that came from his throat was definitely unexpected. But more surprising was his direct action - he gripped your shoulders tightly and led you into the chaise-lounge next to the table. He pushed you hard onto it, making you gasp, and he pressed your shoulders to the soft pillows as if you were to be another victim. That particular thought went straight to your pussy.

"James... maybe after you clean up after yourself?", you suggested in the most sultry voice you could. Ah, did you have to tease him so much? He was impatient, after all! The tension from the kill had to be resolved somehow.

"Nonsense, dove-" he was already pulling up your gown, "I need to take my fellow murderess... now "

You bit your lip, nervous. Were you really a murderess?... that girl was already half dead when you touched her wound! You were merely an accomplice, and...

Oh, you forgot you didn't wear any panties until you felt the cold air hit your pussy. He gripped your thighs and left blood handprints all over, making you forget your guilt. Your dress was all red now, too, as he used it as some sort of napkin to clean himself after his meal. He was savage today, but even now he remembered to at least taste you before taking you. He attempted to take off his mask and you whined.

"James... no, keep it"

He chuckled darkly. Then, he spoke with his metallic, leathery voice:

"Oh? If that is to your tastes, dearest wife..."

He wasted no more time after that. He almost ripped the silky dress off in his hurry, and slipped out of his pants with an impatient growl. Oh, you looked like a prey ready to be ravaged. He groped you all over before sinking his painfully hard cock inside you, leaving bloody handprints on your waist and breasts and neck. You looked like a masterpiece of pain. You whined, the stretch was pretty painful despite your wetness. He looked like a feral beast above you; his terrifying mask making him look like a strange monster taking you all for himself. The thought felt so erotic you could barely stand it, and you whined. Oh, his girth felt so invigorating...

He fucked the same way he killed. Impatiently, roughly, and yet meticulously, both in control and completely out of it. His moans were distorted by the mask, and it felt as if he was all around you, he was in your brain as much as in your cunt. It felt divine, to be violated by that beastly killer, by your beloved husband. Sweet, honeymoon lovemaking with him was terrific, but the desecrating pace he treated you with right now was a feeling no other man could recreate. You gripped his shoulders, staining the back of his shirt with your bloodied fingers, bringing his body closer. Each thrust was punctuated by your obscene moans; he slid himself in at a slightly upward angle, hitting your sweet spot hard each time.

You whined and whined, and he slid his bloody fingers past your parted lips, making you taste his victim’s blood. Your guilt was all-encompassing, yet it felt so good to give in, even just once. Morality was for the stupid, uneducated folk, James used to say. Regulations, rules, faith; all of it is supposed to limit freedom of thought and action. You believed every word of his, no matter how ridiculous it all sounded in the context of his serial murders.

He always knew when you were close, always knew just how and when to toy with your pussy with his red hands and when to edge himself so you two finish at the same time. He had a thing for it, it felt like unity, like your bodies were truly one.

You thought he would never kill you, but he did it quite frequently. You died a little death many times with him, unravelling beautifully under his strong body, core exploding with spasms and locking his seed deep in you. You two came as one, him filling you up, making your mixed releases drip down and combine with all the blood. In this moment, you were his victim and he was your killer, taking you from life and lifting your soul up, or maybe dragging it down to hell, for a few seconds of blissful pleasure.

You always envied his victims. Oh to see his face as the last thing before you fade away, oh to feel him inside you as you pass! The blood all over your body, his mask and the body nearby made you feel such eroticism and guilt...

He pulled out with a whine and tucked himself into his pants, pulling your dress over your dirty body soon after. The casual nature of the situation made your head spin in confusion. That was it?... he can just get up like that, like nothing happened? You were panting, staring at his body, beautiful and shiny with sweat. He took his mask off, revealing a devilish grin.

“Miss Evers! Bring me fresh linens and draw a bath for my wife, would you?”

#james patrick march #ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #james march #james march x reader #jpm #jpm x reader #evan peters #kai anderson #kit walker #ahs fanfiction #ahs x reader

172 notes · View notes

cannedpickledpeaches · 7 days

Text

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst x reader #twst jade #twst fanfic #jade leech x reader #mafia au #multi chap fic #slow burn

80 notes · View notes

ratcatcher0325 · 8 months

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)

Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?

So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!

Previous: Chapter #30

Next: Chapter #32

Word Count: 10,045 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime @imvenusasaboy @liminaldaze @windshield-patent @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art @littlescaryinternetguy @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small @writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing @whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @bigboicol-theflamingcol @certainwizardlady

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes

[Alexander’s POV]

I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me.

Damn my little frame!

My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help?

My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood.

The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp.

Her gasp.

My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it.

Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.

I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping.

Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent.

I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same.

I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces.

As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring.

I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.

Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that.

The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less?

What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind.

“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen?

The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly.

How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.

I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed.

That’s when he crashed through the door.

He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?!

He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him.

I hated him at first glance.

He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground.

While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.

A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered.

I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off.

“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him!

I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?

As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing).

While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show.

Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often.

Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!”

Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.”

While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that.

She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction.

“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?

Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute.

Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.

“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.

I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up?

Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try.

She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.

I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this.

No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand.

Okay, crisis averted, I could do this.

“...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”

Nevermind. I could not do this.

No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell.

"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!!

The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe.

Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?

Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.

This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort.

His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination.

“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.

I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call.

Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself.

She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.

But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown.

He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.

“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…”

“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!”

“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.”

The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you.

“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!”

Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning, “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….”

He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer…

He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?!

Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might.

The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force.

This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast.

His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon.

Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.

Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement.

“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh.

Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.

Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense.

I beat her to the punch.

“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”

“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features.

She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.

I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?”

She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!”

I was baffled by this newfound information.

“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting.

“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!”

“What’s Zorro?!?!?”

“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story.

She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!” Fine!

I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing.

“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar.

“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm.

As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter.

“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side!

“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered?

“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation.

After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen.

I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all.

So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway? In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him.

The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”

A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide.

*********

If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.

We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something?

Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.

I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.”

Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!”

“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago.

I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…”

The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago.

The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers, “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again.

Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?”

I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”

“What?! I thought they liked it!”

“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire, “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?”

Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…”

“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.”

Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled.

Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.”

He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides.

He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target, “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!”

There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen.

The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again.

“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard.

Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution.

Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away.

Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air.

“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall.

As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip.

Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering.

A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”

“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything.

Oh.

This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek.

“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.”

I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look, “May I pick you up?”

“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes.

He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking.

“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.”

“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.”

“Oh, it’s a must!”

He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.”

I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”

Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”

Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely.

As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.”

“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip.

In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point.

Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip.

#Well that was a rollercoaster #Stranger danger!#Angry little man he attacc he protecc #g/t related #g/t writing #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t angst #a fraction of justice #g/t #size difference #gt

77 notes · View notes

thedroneranger · 9 months

Text

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ clancycucumber230 Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

The next Rewind has landed: @clancycucumber230! Also, we have our first all Jake Seresin Rewind!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

Let's keep this going throughout the summer, so if you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

Reader note: I’m an unapologetic Jake girl, although I’ve been dipping my toe in the water of Bob and Bradley recently. Jake’s character is so open, I love all the different ways he has been written by so many amazing authors. Not to mention Glen Powell is so god damn hot! Huge thank you to all writers in this fandom for your contributions!

can't unfeel that, @theharddeck FWB that have caught feelings. Really sweet and the breeding kink in this is off the charts hot.

Fruits of My Labor, @roosterbruiser I’m highlighting ‘Fruits of My Labor.’ It’s a heartbreakingly beautiful read. I would be remiss if I didn't mention The Fuck universe, though. This is a masterpiece with my favourite OC callsign Wisteria!

Hotshot, @topguncortez This first TGM smut I read. It’s rivals to lovers with electric banter and sexual tension. G has a masterlist that will rip your heart out and put it back together all at once. She’s also queen of the pregnancy trope.

Line of Sight, @top-hhun A three-parter ,featuring a reserved Jake protecting reader that flows into fake dating. It’s filled with sexual tension and possibility.

Operation Apollo, @sunlightmurdock This work isn’t complete yet but I have reread multiple times. Jake and Apollos’s growth from enemies to lovers to two people that just need each other is so natural. Throw in a shitty father, suspense and some smut smut smut and it’s a delicious read.

Slow Burn, @ereardon Jake gets Kate pregnant after a one night stand and it’s full of angst, love and dagger squad. Em is queen of the slow burn. Shes got a masterlist of my favourite tropes: pregnancy trope, Dad!Jake, Frat!Jake, Roomie!Jake, exes to lovers, plus Bob and Bradley series’ too. The OCs and settings she writes are also incredibly detailed. If I’m reading a book I can’t get into, this is where I go.

Teaching You Respect, @enchanting-eloquence Anything where Jake is taken down a peg by a strong woman is so SO good! This fic is cold shower amazing.

Terms of Endearment, @ohtobeleah TOE's Jake and Amilia are some of the best characters I’ve ever read. They have so much depth. Every time Leah answers a question about these two I have five more.

The Off-Season, @ereardon One of my most favourite series’. I’m so invested in these characters. They have the best banter and chemistry. Plus you can’t go wrong with the forbidden sibling trope!

Who Did This to You?, @justfandomwritings The first one shot I ever read. It’s got protective Jake with a new friend in need of help with her abusive ex.

I wish I could write, but I can’t, so here is a current read I’m absolutely loving:

Brother's Best Friend, @tongue-like-a-razor

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

#tgm be kind rewind #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun #hangman #hangman top gun #jake hangman #clancycucumber230

50 notes · View notes

vivifriend · 1 month

Text

WIP Wednesday

Got tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter, and I shall tag @rainpebble3 and @bostoniangirl21. Zero pressure. And if anyone else sees this and wishes to join in, please do!

So, I've complained several times over the past couple weeks about how stuck I was on the most recent chapter of Snowflake's Chance. Well, I finally finished it! And I decided to indulge myself in a quick fic idea that my brain gave me before editing and posting it.

Yeah... That quick idea is currently over 14k words and counting... 😒

Without further ado: A snippet from Temba and the Bear. It'll be posted sometime in the next few days.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The crackle of a fire seeped through her sleep fogged mind and Temba jolted upright, grasping her chest, pain lancing through her shoulder and ribs, her other arm pinned to her side with a length of wood. Memories flooded her as she looked around the familiar room. How am I alive? Am I alive?

"Miss Temba!"

She turned her head, watching Gwilin limp toward her, an acidic comment dying on her tongue when she realized his limp was barely noticeable.

"How long was I asleep?" she croaked, her throat dry, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

"Let me get you some water," he said, sitting on a chair next to her, lifting a pitcher from the floor and filling a goblet, passing it to her.

She drank swiftly, the warm liquid soothing the dryness of her mouth and throat, sitting heavily on her stomach. "Thank you," she murmured, passing the cup back, scowling when he stared at her. "What?"

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. "I just... wasn't expecting you to thank me. You don't need to."

"I've thanked you before," she snapped, her scowl deepening when he glanced to the side. Haven't I?

"You were asleep for three weeks. But the whole town has rallied. We made the Windhelm shipment."

"Any...," she bit her tongue.

"Complaints?" He shook his head. "None so far."

"Good." She gave him what she hoped was a warm smile. "You remembered to cut the logs the proper length."

He flushed and grinned. "I... measured your arm for the splint and... marked the measurement. Used it to check."

"Good idea," she said, scowling when he frowned and leaned forward to check her forehead. "What?"

"I just..., nevermind. Are you hungry? Wilhelm is out in the garden but I could ask him to make you something."

"I want to sleep more," she said.

"Of course. I'll brew some tea while you sleep, set it in the sun for you."

Nodding, she scowled but said nothing when he helped her lay back down. Was that punishment? Is Wilhelm right? Have I really been that awful? Is this the Gods way of punishing me?

Closing her eyes, she drifted, dreams full of dark red eyes and a twisted hulking frame.

#wip wednesday #skyrim fanfic #temba wide-arm #gwilin

7 notes · View notes

finn-m-corvex · 5 months

Text

Find A Word!

Hey everyone! I was tagged by @lightning-chicken and (inadvertently) @weekend-whip to dig through my WIPs and find eight different words: snap, blue, echo, flicker, dance, horror, flood, and opposite!

I'm going to go ahead and tag @splinnters @impulsivefanwriter @taddymason and @rainofthetwilight! Your four words are: beam, pillar, angry, and blood.

Upon saying that, we have seven current WIPs of mine to look through, so let's do it! (Only using five)

[Disclaimer: I don't edit my works till after I finish the draft, so none of what you're about to see is properly edited and will look different when I eventually publish it]

snap - Even the Earth Trembles (Ch2, waiting to be published)

Fire and ice were set in stone. You would know when ice began to form or when fire started to spark, but you could never guess when the earth would start to shake or when the lightning would strike. If you learned Kai and Zane well enough, you would be able to tell when they were about to snap or cry or scream or sob, but there was no telling when Cole and Jay would break. Did he and Cole have signs? Yes, but they were mere precautions, just like the recurrence rate of earthquakes that people thought could be used to predict them or the theories about where and how lightning will strike an area.

He knew spontaneity, and Jay knew Cole.

blue - Would You Like to Enter Prime Empire? (Ch5, waiting to be published)

“Not exactly.” Scott grabbed the top map and slid it over so everyone could see. It was vibrant shades of green and blue, with a large gray smear that looked like a storm cloud rolling in. Jay could make out a raging river separating a forest that almost looked like it had no end, only coming to a stop at the edge of a huge cliff-face. The cliffs were huge and jagged, almost guaranteeing your death if you happened to fall from its heights. But the most striking thing about the map was the large maze-like structure at the top of the cliffs, adorned in dragon imagery that Jay found vaguely familiar. Where had he seen it before?

Pointing to a large green circle on the other side of the river, Scott’s face soured. “This is where the portal will spit you out when you go through. Following the path, you have to make it across the river, through the forest, up the cliffs and then find your way through the maze.”

echo - Would You Like to Enter Prime Empire? (Ch5, waiting to be published)

“Yes sir,” everyone echoed, and Jay helped Scott to gather up the papers and other supplies while the others walked away in pairs. He glanced at one of the drawings that had three animals in a triangle shape, carefully looking at the symbols sketched out on each. He recognized the symbol.

Lightning.

“Scott,” he called, holding the paper out to the mechanic. “What are these?”

“I don't know.” Scott traced a finger along the one acting as the tip of the triangle: a dragon. “This one is a dragon, obviously, and I think this one,” he pointed to the right corner, “is a goat, maybe? I'm not sure what the last one is, though.“

flicker - What Would You Wish For? (Prologue, unpublished)

Lights flickered to life, and Jay threw up his arm to cover his eyes from the sudden brightness surrounding him. When his eyes finally figured themselves out, Jay lowered his arm, looking up towards the ceiling with a curious expression.

There was a golden statue hanging from the wall in front of him. He looked very stern, a carefully trimmed moustache and beard on his face, his suit and tie immaculate in the golden light. It was just the man’s torso, no legs to be found, and a red banner was hung in front of him, attached to the walls on either side. It looked like it was up there after the fact, almost like whoever built the tower forgot to put it up when they were mounting the statue.

“No gods or kings, only man,” Jay read, eyes roving over the statue. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Jay couldn’t place him; maybe he was in one of Jay’s past history textbooks? “What kind of communist manifesto nonsense is this?”

dance - Mechanical Hearts (Ch1, waiting to be published)

Freshmen were swarming on the sidewalks, coming from the dorms on the western side to make it to their classes. Most of them scurried along at top speed, desperate to not be late on their first day of big boy school; Jay knew that it wouldn’t last long. Just because he didn’t live on campus didn’t mean he wasn’t familiar with the old song and dance of being on time to class.

Something told him that the student services building was going to be packed, and he hated it when it was packed.

He also hated being right.

Cole grimaced when he saw the mob of kids standing outside of the building, pulling the car over to park next to the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of people, huh? Guess a lot of kids are having trouble this year.”

horror - Lightning in a Cubicle (Part 4, waiting to be published)

“Say, Cole,” Jay started, cutting his rant about the horrors of cardstock paper short, “would you happen to know anything about a group called the Ninja?”

Cole choked. Sora looked slightly alarmed and quickly whacked him on the back, Cole finally catching his breath and looking at Jay with wide eyes. “What?”

“If you’re from Ninjago, then you should know who the Ninja are, right?” Jay continued.

“O-Oh yeah,” Cole scratched the back of his head, “I guess you could say that. I, uh, actually knew them before the Merge happened?”

“What was the girl like?” Jay asked, fiddling with his sleeves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu, even though he knew for a fact that he had never been in this kind of situation before. “She’s really pretty, you know.”

flood - What Would You Wish For? (Prologue, unpublished)

What was this wet stuff on his overalls?

Before Jay could contemplate it anymore, there was a loud sound of metal ripping apart, and he barely had time to take a deep breath before the cabin was flooding with water.

The water was freezing, rushing in and filling the cabin in mere seconds. The salt stung at Jay’s eyes, and he groped around the closest wall until he finally found a small hole from where the window smashed in. Everyone else was yelling for help behind him, but Jay was blind with his eyes slammed shut, so he had no idea how he would’ve even begun to go about helping them too. And for some reason, he didn’t feel very inclined to help them after they basically ditched him in the crashing procedure.

opposite - Even the Earth Trembles (Ch2, waiting to be published)

So you would think that if Cole was having sensory issues, Jay would be the first person that he would go to.

But he didn’t.

Which was really the opposite of what Jay wanted to happen. Rather than go to Jay for any sort of advice or information on how to help himself. Cole decided that the better option was to withdraw into himself and pretend like everything was fine. And what made it even worse was that Jay could feel Cole struggling to cope with it. Every time Cole would turn down physical contact Jay felt his heart squeeze, even though he knew that it wasn’t really what Jay was feeling. Empathy sucked sometimes, but it sucked even worse whenever there was someone bottling something up; Jay always, always knew when his family was doing that.

#key tag #finn's writing #finn...himself?#even the earth trembles #would you like to enter prime empire?#lightning in a cubicle #what would you wish for? (bioshock au)#mechanical hearts

16 notes · View notes

hullosweetpea · 3 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @catknives for tagging me (even though i’m responding 2 months later 😅)

First, my AO3

How many works do you have on AO3?

107!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

223, 678 words, counting co-writing and co-podding works!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Stranger Things, but I do have some Fargo s5 fic in the works. Back in the day it was a lot of Supernatural, Doctor Who, Check Please!, Schitt’s Creek, (regrettably) The Big Bang Theory, Marvel, The Mortal Instruments, and The Infernal Devices

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Familiar to Me (Supernatural), Intervention (Supernatural), felled by you (Stranger Things), Avenging Barbarian (Stranger Things), and A Truth Universally Acknowledged (Stranger Things)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Mainly because I like the interaction (especially when readers have predictions/ world-building thoughts). I also screenshot my favorite ones for when I need motivation or a pick me up.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Happy Springtime Cas (Supernatural) because it’s Main Character Death

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This Ken Has a Boyfriend! (Stranger Things) because it is pure crack and delight ❤️

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so much hate, but I could always tell when someone hasn’t seen You’ve Got Mail based on how critical they are of Cas in A Truth Universally Acknowledged. Which, at that point, please discuss it with your friends and not me. I decided to follow the plot of You’ve Got Mail pretty close, and for some people it was too much that Dean lost his store like Kathleen. (And I only cried about it twice, which is a win for me).

9. Do you write smut?

yes, primarily omegaverse and kink. oh if 15 year old sweetpea could see me now skdlfjsdjf

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Gonna show my age here, but for my 100th fanfic on FF.net I wrote a SuperWhoLock fic. I’ve also written a Supernatural/Check Please! crossover, and I’m in the middle of writing a Fargo/Stranger things crossover (Gator with older Steve/Eddie, anyone?).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, thank god!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Birthday Wish (Stranger Things) was translated by Azalea_Violetta

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I’m currently working on a co-written fic for a ST Femslash Server I’m in (not sure how much I can say publicly!). But I’ve been apart of many multi-voice podfic (podfic voiced with a whole cast instead of one person).

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Currently gripped by Steddie.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The bio-bdsm destiel fic. I might get back to it some day, but my Stranger Things fascination gripped me about the same time I was noodling with it. Also, I’m so bad about finishing long fics 🤦��♀️

16. What are your writing strengths?

Description, sentence fragments as poetic license

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot v. cool scene, anxiety editing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’d like to apologize for 16 year old me for slapping Google Translate lines in fic. I’m sure there were many cringy translations. Otherwise, I don’t think too hard when I see them in fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Unposted: American Girl; Posted: Doctor Who

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

pinkie swear (Stranger Things). It was my last fill for Stobin Month and it was so cathartic and enjoyable to write. I just love Steve and Robin’s friendship ❤️

tagging: @hullomoon, @faithfulcat111, @mayalaen, @starshideurfics, and @goonflower

#ask games #whew that took awhile #but was so fun!

6 notes · View notes

veliseraptor · 7 months

Text

i was not!tagged by @feralkwe and decided this looked like fun so

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

the first fic you ever published there: This was a bit of a challenge and relied on my memory because of all the fics I've posted backdated, but since I knew it was a Yuletide fic and I joined in 2009...apparently I wrote a fuckton of fic for Yuletide that year, but I think it was either The Gravedigger, Lingering On, or Memorial.

the last fic you published: I need to finish editing and posting the fic I'm stalling about and have been for the last three weeks. But as of right now the most recent fic I posted was jiggety-jig, a short little thing about Pete being very fucked up psychologically.

any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once: If I count 616 as one fandom (rather than parsing out by series) which I feel like I should, then I'm going to go with we too (three) could be glorious, my (thus far!) only Crimson Peak fic, though I'd kind of like to write more.

your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works: good god am I meant to look through the 293 (jesus) works I wrote for the MCU trying to remember/decide a favorite? I guess the answer is "yes, Lise, you chose to do this meme." I ended up pretty proud of Will to Live, I guess. It was a fun concept and I'm pretty pleased with the execution of it. Maybe I should reread that one. If I can cheat and do a series, though, I might have to choose Remember This Cold, even if not all of it is created equal - I just am proud of the damn thing, unevenness or not. It's a magnum opus of some kind.

the fic you wish more people read: I have written a lot of fics, you guys, and there's a lot of them that I wish got more attention. I decided I got to pick five, and because considering I'm clocking in at just over 1k to choose from I think I can be forgiven.

let's start with two from my current main fandoms, the people are gone and the place is empty, an a-Qing and Xue Yang AU that I'll never continue even though I kind of want to, and like a trigger (get me ready to shoot), which isn't exactly underread overall but is one of my Kinnporsche fics that's less read and very important to me personally. I'm weirdly fond of Foundling though I understand why it's not everybody else's favorite fic, since it might tread too close to Odin apologism for some. For a flashback to Supernatural fic, (and we all end up alone) remains one of my favorites I wrote for that fandom. And then there's Ouroboros, the second-person fic about Ishamael. so I'm not surprised that people don't gravitate toward that one, but I like it.

the fic you agonized over the most: There's kind of two answers to this question, and it's sort of "the work I agonized over the most because it was hard technically" and "the work I agonized over the most because it took me eight years to write and that's a long fucking time to be writing a single thing and a lot of room for me to doubt myself a thousand times." And they're not the same fic!

I'm going to stick with fics that I actually have finished, because ones I haven't I feel like "agonized over" is self-evident. And for that...might have to award this one to (speaking of Remember This Cold) we live until we die, for being in at least some ways the culminating fic of nearly a decade of writing and having parts in it I'd been planning for five solid years. It was a lot of pressure (self-induced but perceived from outside as well) to be working under.

the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort: I know there are a few of these but the one that springs to mind immediately is could be raining. Had the idea and wrote it basically in the span of 24 hours and I don't remember any agony about it.

a work you are proud of—for whatever reason: I feel like as far as my longfics go the backyard is full of bones might be my best one. It is - and if you know me, you know it's very hard for me to say this - a good fic.

tagging anyone who wants to do this one. that means you. but especially @ameliarating, @lu-sn, and @fatalism-and-villainy.

#lise memes #confessions of a frustrated writer

16 notes · View notes

ronandreams · 1 year

Note

blog recs and questions! spicy edition ❤️‍🔥

the blog(s) you often stalk

the blog(s) you'd wish to meet in person

the blog(s) you don't always agree with but love anyway

three blogs you'd take with you to a mysterious deserted island (choose wisely)

your mean girls squad (gender neutral)

current tumblr crush (blog you reblog the most from)

current number of blocked blogs

the tag(s) you track

omg hi, this is interesting haha (these are so hard for me becuz i want to tag like 100 blogs but this is not realistic 😂 i just love all my mutuals here)

the blogs i often stalk: @odairs-cresta, @nathanroyal, @aiimer, @hellshee, @wandamaximoffs, @vanessacarlysle, @buffysummers, @visenyatargaryen, @frodo-baggins, @tommishelby, @andialmostdo, @carveredlunds, @fridamcguiness

the blogs i'd wish to meet in person: @burke-juliet, @hongjoongkims, @nathanroyal, @aiimer, @hellshee, @obsessedx, @scorpiussmalfoyy, @sunflowervol6, @jonescooper, @mybrightstar, @ptrbprkrs

the blogs i don't always agree with but love anyway: i feel like this question could start fights 😂 i don't even know who i would tag here.

three blogs i'd take with me to a mysterious deserted island: @hellshee, @cyborg-cinderellas, @allidoistry

my mean girls squad (gender neutral): @aiimer, @starsbythepocketful, @nathanroyal, @odairs-cresta, @hellshee, @tommishelby, @obsessedx, @biilpotts, @lastkissvinyl, @scorpiussmalfoyy, @thepinkscale, @dykejaskiers

current tumblr crush (blog i reblog the most from): god idk ! currently it's probably @kamadosnezukos 💖

current number of blocked blogs: 19, majority of them are the bots lol

the tags i track: a lot of fandom tags, but i forget to ever look at them lol. such as b99edit, litedit, tswiftedit, trcedit, marveledit, parksedit, spnedit, strangerthingsedit, mrrobotedit, tuaedit, lotredit, wwditsedit, twedit, tedlassoedit, tgpedit, tvdedit, friendsedit, theofficeedit. i also track my url ronandreams :)

#thanks for the ask anon!#i had no idea who to tag tho 😂#i think i was too repetitive here #i'm just so indecisive lmao #answered #anonymous #nonny #nonnie #mutuals

36 notes · View notes

not-poignant · 9 months

Note

10, 12, 16!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Hmm.

Yes. A piece of writing has haunted me. Usually non-fiction books about the state of the environment re: climate change, they often stay with me for a long time.

Some fiction books infect me like a virus for a while, and I become really obsessed with them. They're not always the stories I write fanfiction for. I don't know if that's the same as being 'haunted' by something. To be haunted by something implies something that causes mental anguish or torment.

OH. Yes, actually, there was one m/m series that got published that was so much gratuitous torture porn and I kept hanging out for the comfort part of the increasingly insane levels of hurt, because hurt/comfort was one of its tags. It had like 20 installments (it's a published series) and it had no comfort, and a thrown together hasty ending that felt like slapping a bandaid on a person that had been exploded into pieces.

The process of reading that and getting NO good ending really, causes me some anguish to think about to this day. In that sense, I would say yes, I'm haunted by it. I'm not going to name the series if anyone asks, it was such a clear case of 'I'm being triggered and should have pulled out much earlier.' Though I am really mad that anyone dared to call that a hurt/comfort story lmao.

My own writing doesn't haunt me, thank god.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Hmmm, three writing wishes. Hmmmmmm.

I wish for my writing to find more of the readers who will love it and enjoy it, and that some of those readers will continue to have the kind of income that allows them to support a writer once a month via Patreon, so that I can hopefully keep symbiotically giving them the kind of writing they want

2. I wish I could do editing just by blinking at a story.

3. I wish I had the energy / ability to help other people publish their own stories for niche audiences in ways that they enjoy. One of the things I actually find kind of frustrating is that this job forces me to live on the absolute edges of my energy levels and that I've always wanted to be able to help others out with writing and I'm very limited in how I could do that. If I wasn't, I would've 100% published like a Fae Tales short story anthology by now, and art books, with royalties going to the authors and artists, for example. And like, when I die - which will come probably sooner than I want it to with all my illnesses - this is something I'd really like for other folks to be able to do. Is that weird? I wish that would be easy, I wish I could somehow use that as a launchpad into helping more authors beyond the ways I do it now (which is mostly just writing advice sometimes).

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

...

Probably a used tissue. x.x

From the Weird Writing Asks meme!

#asks and answers #memey goodness #listening to Rezz right now #and enjoying her music so much #god she's so amazing y'all should check her out even if you hate the music sdalkfjasd #she's got the rizz #anyway - yeah I don't really think I'm haunted by any of my stories #I have some mixed feelings about some #but that's really not the same as being haunted by something #as for the wishes I feel like I could've wished for more #maybe I should've wished to be like...#a millionaire writer or something #honestly it's just that I want to be financially stable #I want to help others #I want editing to not be such a drag lmao #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue

9 notes · View notes

duplicitywrites · 1 year

Text

thank you @joeys-piano for inviting me to do this! happy holidays and a happy new year to you 🌹🌹

rules:

post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular),

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year,

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year,

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year,

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year!

tagging: @cindle-writes @clarasghosts @crowcrowcrowthing @dividawrites @itsevanffs @latteloves @louveclaviere @phantomato @the-paper-monkey @vivantesopales or anyone else who wants to do this!

top five listed below, and everything else under the cut. nothing is in any particular order, but i do think the WIPs are probably the most interesting ones...

FIVE WORKS:

okay, this was a hard choice. if i spent some more time on it, i could probably change my answer a million times. but if i had to rescue five fics from a burning house, i hope it would be these ones(?)

the eternal flame (21,925 words) | WIP

Harry raising Tom is a dynamic i LOVE to explore, and this is my latest go at it. there will be another new one in 2023, you can bet on it

Fight Fire with Fire (14,275 words) | Complete

this is just chaotic fun LMAO and bottom tom, always a treat 😌💕

Terms and Conditions May Apply (16,822 words) | WIP

first person POV! retired voldemort! and some of the funniest jokes i've ever written. idk what is wrong with me when i write this story but i hope it happens again

We Still Have Time (9,053 words) | Complete

other people changed my mind about this one so it gets an honorary spot for that reason 💖 not to mention blood, sweat, and tears went into writing this 😭

sweet everything (1,360 words) | Complete

tomdric! beloved! i find myself really enamoured with them and with second person POV. this work has a lot of phrasing that i'm proud of.

FOUR WIPS:

have some WIP! some of these have proper summaries, some don't. we get what we get and we don't get upset, etc 😭

mary (working title) | fem!tom riddle x harry potter

Troubled young women have a tendency to marry men like their fathers. At least, that is what Tom had been told. What they never told her was how, exactly, the union of her parents had come to be. Or: Tom Riddle meets Harry Potter. She decides she has to have him, no matter the cost.

apotheosis | harrymort, pov draco malfoy

Growing up side by side with Harry, Draco learned two very important things: One, Voldemort was a god, terrifyingly monstrous and more powerful than any wizard on the planet. And two, Harry Potter was his.

tempered in darkness | harrymort, vee wins AU

working summary: harry is chosen from a lottery pool to have his dirty blood purged by lord voldemort

like his father (working title) | harrycest, mod!harry

“Are you—my dad?” You open your mouth to say no. You should say no. James Potter is long dead and not even time travel can fix that. But all your life, you’ve been told how much you look like your father. And now, looking into your own eyes, you couldn’t bear to see them disappointed. “You look like me,” Harry adds in a mumble, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Yeah,” you croak, dropping to your knees and taking the boy’s tiny hands in your own. “Yeah, Harry, I’m your dad.” You sway closer, brushing the child’s messy bangs aside, and place a kiss to the left of your famous lightning scar. “You can call me James.”

THREE IMPROVEMENTS:

i have learned to take my time with writing! i've done a lot more editing this year than i have in the past, painstakingly scrapping a lot more words than i used to. but i believe the end results are better and i'm happy with almost everything that has been posted this year 💕

i'm not sure if this can be stated as an improvement, though i'm sure some people will beg to differ, but i started writing more smut this year LOL

simply put, more writing = better 😌 practice doesn't make exactly perfect but it does produce visible results!

TWO RESOLUTIONS:

i don't like making resolutions, but here are some general ones i shall try to abide by

to write only what i am passionate about

finishing what i can, and accepting the rest as they are 😌

ONE LINE:

okay this one is just impossible lmao. i wrote so much and i have more that i haven't even posted, so i am going to list a bunch and maybe someone can tell me which one is the best

He has no urge to kill what has already been buried. (the eternal flame)

It feels fair, then, that Tom Riddle will be both the love of his life and the aching close of it. (Hallows, Not Horcruxes)

Comments like this reminded Harry why he sometimes had to pay attention to Tom even when he didn’t want to. (2 Tame 2 Boyfriend)

"[...] If someone came into this house to murder us, I would let the murderer kill you, and then, once I was sure that you were dead, I would kill the murderer." (Terms and Conditions May Apply)

For the first time in his cold, unfeeling life, Tom hoped that Dumbledore was right and there was an afterlife waiting for him so he could still rail Harry at least once. (Nevermind)

Lost in the richness of Tom Riddle’s gorgeously exceptional life, his world has never looked so bright. (resurfacing)

Tom Riddle was a hollow child turned hollow man; Harry was all the heart he had. (like angels put in hell by god)

#tag game

24 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

agueforts

mlemmelm

Melm -

eirist

Where My Ship Sails

batzayns

i'm just the underdog who finally got the girl

livingandlovinglife7

LivingAndLovingLifeSpamAccount