#first draft basically

[liquidstar]

wait speaking of getting isekia'd via truck, a couple weeks back me and a friend on were talking abt portal fantasy/isekai tropes (mostly bc i was infodumping abt rz again), and it made me think abt a fun concept for an ocverse. tho its possible similar things have been done obvs with just how inflated the genre is, just hear me out OK

story starts in the normal world, with a typical Nerdy Guy going about his daily life, expositing about how he feels bored and longs for adventure and magic, just like in all of his favorite media. as he's crossing the street, distracted by his mobile game, he doesn't notice The Truck(tm) coming straight towards him. except he's not hit by it- he's pushed out of the way in the last second, saved by a passing girl who gets hit in his place. this is who the story is about now.

mc gets sent to that sort of intermediary dimension that some isekai have, where she meets the Goddess Lady or whatever that was in charge of the whole isekai situation. goddess lady proceeds to freak out, because she nabbed the wrong person, and she's going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE. she starts questioning the mc, only to find out that this kid has a good social life, does well in school, is in sports, and has barely ever played a video game. basically the opposite of the socially introverted, underachieving, repressed, genre-aware guy she was supposed to have reincarnated. for the sake of fulfilling somekinda hero prophesy or whatever. and the mc kinda bargains to be sent to the fantasy world anyway bc, well, its that or death i guess. so the two of them kinda have to team up to course-correct this mix-up.

mc is kinda given a list of tasks to do that basically mirror how a typical story like this Would Go, expected to fall in line with the tropes in order to achieve the ultimate goal, but kinda ends up failing at all of them... or not? failing backwards, maybe. doing it in a way different from how its meant to go- using the wrong formula, but somehow getting the right solution. while sort of continuing to question the insanity of the whole situation, and the nature of this whole fantasy world. just fucking up all the tropes.

but a layer i'd wanna add on top of all that is the fact that the hero prophesy (or whatever) called for a man. so upon arriving to this new world, the mc is basically put into a "gender swapped" body and... doesnt seem to mind. this isnt an uncommon isekai trope either, but i hardly see it tackled with much care to really explore whole Gender Thing beyond gags about the "mismatch" (which can be in poor taste) or the conclusion that "well because their Body is now this gender, their gender identity changes to match" which i feel is a pretty shallow and binary take-away to draw abt bodies and identity.

but i think there can be more to explore w the prospect if you actually wanna get into gender stuff. in this case, i'd particularly wanna get into the idea of imposter syndrome. the main character was not MEANT to be... the main character. seen as a phony fighting tooth and nail to meet expectations, and constantly fumbling. not a real hero, or a real man. but its meant to be an act anyway, so why does that bother her? it was like that back on earth too, trying as hard as possible to be the perfect girl. a good social life, does well in school, is in sports.... but that good girl thing always felt fake too. or desperate. what was she trying to prove? how long as this BEEN bothering her, actually? why does it feel easier to breathe in this body, despite everything? the way this whole act makes her happy is scary, because its fake isn't it? but wait, which part was fake? the before or after? is it all fake? isn't this all just a mistake?

was it really a mistake? who is more heroic; a guy too focused on a mobile game to pay attention to those around him, or the person who risked their life to save a stranger? but the hero prophesy was for a "man," right? what does that even mean?

#the end is all questions bc if i ever did anything w this i would want to explore them basically #i dont know if i ever WILL its mostly just a concept im throwing out there for rn. brainstorming #but i think it could be fun #the only other isekai/portal fantasy type ocverse i have is the one w the dream traveling ocs. i wanna get back to them also #so many small oc projects that ive posted abt very briefly but i have not forgotten abt any of them i still think abt it #same w this even if i never really elaborate more on it im sure the idea will stay in my head #its obviously very much in its first draft baby phase rn a lot of ironing out the creases to do if i did wanna follow up in some way #like again its basically just a concept i dont have concrete characters or worldbuilding or anything just ideas. thata all

[jayswing101]

Fill for G1 - Black Cloaked Envoy on my Guardian Bingo Card!

The base pattern is taken from this daxiushan (大袖衫) pattern. To make this daxiushan (Heipaoshi's Version), I shortened the sleeves a bit, added extra length to the body, added a hood, and added the weird gauzy bits on the back. I also added some cording on the shoulders and the sides of the hood, following the design from the show as closely as I could. You'll also notice a couple decorative bands of black ribbon on the chest and at the waist, as well as a square of skightly different black fabric on the back — these are also embellishments added to follow the model in the drama.

Fabric: raw silk noil, cotton lining in the hood, a silk habotai square, silk gauze, silk ribbons, cotton cording. Entirely handsewn using waxed black linen thread.

#guardian #heipaoshi #guardianbingofest #cosplay #(ish) #fanARTifact #handmade #modified hanfu #this was my first time making anything other than a basic circle/half circle skirt and it was very fun and im very happy with the result #there are places i could for sure improve for next time (and there will be a next time - this is one of the comfiest things I've ever worn) #but for my first time drafting a pattern and sewing anything more complex than a circle skirt #i say this is a job very well done #also the hood was so scary but it was actually pretty simple to make!! it's also GIANT #i could for sure hide a big black cat in there no problem #i am also planning on making the rest of heipaoshi's outfit (belt and little hand guards and all!) #we're posting just the cloak bit and calling that square filled bc i won't have the rest finished before the end of January 😅 #but i keep getting intimidated by the closures on the yuanlingpao im making and then not sewing for months on end so. #jaysart

[just-slightly-chayotic]

Jeff Satur in shorts.

#jeff satur #kinnporsche cast #kinnporsche #this has been in my drafts for a good while #so i'm finally posting because ONE person asked #took me a while because i wanted to go through my jeff folder and see if i didn't miss any good ones #and my jeff folder is so big that it's basically unusable #wait i'll reblog with a couple more that didn't quite make the first cut #due to me being limited to 10 photos

[nachosncheezies]

People like Bill Jr. got all kinds of things wrong about Scully but probably none moreso than thinking it was tragic that Mulder was dragging her along on some descent into madness, when actually the real tragedy was how few of the people she loved ever realized it wasn't a descent.

(It couldn't be bc 1. it's not madness and 2. she was already there.)

#she worked hard to mask it and clearly did a good job #Mulder's gift was he could meet her where she was #I think Maggie knew it I think that's why she liked him immediately and continued to despite all the tragedy that followed #setting aside the way he was right there with her clearly devastated and ready to go berserker on a whole hospital over her daughter #and the unspoken vote of confidence from Scully herself when they found out he was the one who witnessed her living will #'oh he sees through her too. AND she hasn't jettisoned him for it. iiinch-resting.....' -maggie scully probably #i love that relative to the people I knew when I first watched now all these years later i see so many more people #recognizing how incredibly Not Normal this Put Together Human Adult Woman is #this (including above tags) has been in my drafts for weeks thems was fic-readin thoughts #i think i had just started reading AV's henry au and was having a moment over the comments about scully having a recklessness in her #and her self-destructive streak #might've also been incrementum and the part about she's crazy and he loves it bc he's pretty sure he's the only one who knows #also was not long past cancer arc and emily on my rewatch so basically #get rekt bill jr #anyway #notes to self #x files #the x files #scully #bill jr #nachos thoughts

[ruuinxs]

i like to think about how saiki’s gloves SHOULD, if following logic, rip easily. like, we all know that kind of material should tear straight through super quick. so i offer you: Saiki’s Gloves Breaking (A Compilation)

#a fic in the works #this was in my drafts for too long #basically it’s just saiki doing daily things and his gloves rip up #oh but he can just repair it NO #not until he first suffers touching smth with his bare hands #featuring friends of sorts #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki k nonsense #tdlosk

[silvyslayer42]

they really weren’t lying when they said this kid is autistic coded huh

#kusuo saiki #touma akechi #like 10 other saiki k characters #genos opm #garou opm #mob #ESPECIALLY mob #im not the first person to say this but mp100 is basically just ‘what if autism gave you superpowers?’ the anime #freeing my drafts

[compacflt]

for todays wip wednesday i thought it would be kind of fun to do a little wips vs final drafts post just to kind of illustrate how far back first drafts can really start. so following the famous 5+1 fanfic format (4+1 cause u can only post 10 pics on mobile)—four wips (left) & their related final drafts (right) + one that is still a wip (bottom two)

#in the doodle those are supposed to be their eyebrows fyi #this post is just cause we writers like to suck our own dicks sometimes #an anon sent in a follow up ask after my writing advice post talking about little notebooks… #i have gone through three 200 pg notebooks during the drafting of some of this content lol #one 200 pg notebook was basically ONLY slider one shot content #1. the little doodle that led to the cyclone one shot #2. ayrmy…. this doesn’t even count as a 0.5 draft #3. this is not the first attempt at this scene. this big blowup scene went through like a dozen different drafts #& it’s still kind of whatever imo #5. here are my original notes/outline for wwgattai :) it’s all i had to go on for the entire story #the first concrete image for the entire story i had was of mav begging ice to quit smoking #and ice quitting only cause he asked out loud #6. this is the WIP. female mav for a prompt fill. will then lead to of course! lesbian charliemav. #thanks for tolerating all my wip wednesdays :) they’re just kind of fun for me even if nothing makes sense out of context #top gun #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #top gun fanfiction #edts notes #btw in the cyclone excerpt epaulettes should be shoulderboards whoops #ignore the weird tag numbers there were originally 6

[purble-gaymer]

episode 48 was the first chapter i wrote, so in honor of its publishing i dug through my sketchbooks for some early concepts and other doodles from may ‘22 (a couple of which have appeared, and more i’m not sharing because spoilers)

#kirby right back at ya #meta knight #sword knight #blade knight #wwtmk #rhyn's art #halfway through this book i got infected with forgotten land disease #but i think my first draft was done by that point #i blew through it cause i had basically nothing to do all month #fastest i’ve ever written that much #still kind of impressed with myself #anyway you can tell how much i've improved in drawing these guys :sob: #what the fixation does to a man

[can-of-slorgs]

Im dying at your tags on that last anon 😭😂 youre now the dr.sloth pinup artist that neopets needed

Not the title i wanted to craft for myself when i started this blog but hey, it brought us such good memories like

#vin answers #vin memes #neotag #sorry i thought i had answered with this but apparently it didnt save the draft or whatever!! D: #but hey you get a 5-min meme out of it so everyone wins #god the things i put my poor grundo through HJSKDAF #this whole ordeal was one hell of a rollercoaster and I'm glad i was part of it #i don't think i've ever drawn dr sloth that much in such a short time if ever lmao #and don't get me wrong its been great #just not something i had thought to be involved in after just 1 month of starting this blog JHSDJK #specially as when i first got into the neotag i was basically nobody lol #i think everytime i draw the guy he's more and more pissed LFMAOO #hey neopets team hire me i can... draw dr sloth in the most sus way possible without it being pleasurable i guess HJSDF #anyway thanks for the ask and sorry for the late response i swear I thought i answered this!! #the grundo's name is Volks by the way i treat him as a sona but technically he's just some guy #that's it im done

[sunsafewriting]

chapter 5 - tide change (3.4k)

chapter except:

For the first time in weeks, Beatrice doesn’t cancel their lesson. 

The Governor’s house is a flurry of activity when she arrives. She recognises the faces of several in the army and navy’s senior command, but she passes by them and heads to the drawing room, where Ava waits for her. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Beatrice asks. 

Ava shrugs. “A messenger arrived not long ago. A boy in uniform. They’re all flustered about it. Perhaps a delay in the import of their whiskey.” 

It seems like far too many officials for a simple problem with a trade route. Beatrice frowns.  “You haven’t, ah — heard anything?” 

Ava has never been particularly shy about her eavesdropping; she’s reported all sorts of interesting things over the years. Beatrice has, admittedly, feigned a lack of surprise at this information on occasion, even if only to receive that assessing look from Ava, the particular consideration she gives when trying to determine whether Beatrice is teasing her too. 

“I’ve had a lesson to prepare for.” Ava gestures grandly to the table, where she’s laid out a number of maps — far more than usual. “And there have been too many officers milling around to allow me to try anything, unfortunately,” she concedes, after another second. 

There are two spare chairs positioned at the table: one directly beside Ava, and one across from her. It’s not the usual arrangement of the space, and Beatrice recognises the change for the gentleness that it is; she can choose whether she wants to be near Ava or further away. 

She takes the seat beside Ava. Because she can. Because Ava brightens up when she does. 

“I appreciate that you’ve got our curriculum set and memorised,” Ava begins, and Beatrice doesn’t correct her, even though it quite often feels like she’s forgetting and remembering things she’s known all her life, moment to moment, when Ava is nearby. “But I thought we could do things differently today.”

“Differently how?” 

“Well, if — hypothetically, you understand — you were to chart a course to visit places you might like to see, what sort of route would you plan?” Ava, predictably, takes advantage of their proximity to let her arm nudge Beatrice’s as she reaches for one of the maps and drags it closer. “And, as I said, this is just pretend, of course.” Then, more quietly: “I meant it, when I told you to take your time. It’s only an exercise.” 

Beatrice falters. “Based on what criteria am I to choose these locations?” 

“Based on interest,” Ava informs her. “Curiosity. Desire.” 

Listening to Ava say these words has an effect on Beatrice that she is unable to name. Or scared to name. It no longer feels sufficiently safe to have her hands on the table, or by her sides; instead, she settles them on her knees, gripping tightly at the coarse fabric of her trousers. 

“I try not to make a habit of indulging such things,” Beatrice replies. 

Under the table, Ava’s fingers brush the inside of Beatrice’s wrist. It’s hardly the most illicit contact they’ve ever had, but something about the fact that Beatrice can feel her touch but not see it makes it all the more dangerous. If it’s invisible, then it’s imaginary; if it’s imaginary, there’s no reason to stop it. 

Maybe it’s not Ava’s touch that’s dangerous, but Beatrice herself. 

Beatrice, who can no longer seem to pull away.

“I’ll teach you,” Ava promises.

#me uploading what is basically the first draft instead of anxiously rewriting it for three weeks? yes #sunsafewriting #avatrice #ava x beatrice #avatrice fic #avatrice fanfic

[whumble-beeee]

What's In a Name?

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 8

Content: mentioned past attempted noncon, hysterical whumpee/nervous breakdown (seriously yall, it gets bad), disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[While following this guide, as well as generally while playing the wonderful game that is villainy, you will find that the advice can rarely be fitted to every specific scenario. But one piece of advice is universal: If you value your freedom, your loved ones, and your life, you must never reveal your secret identity to your captured hero. As soon as you do, there is no more facade. Villainy is no longer a game. It is your life. And heroes will not hesitate to destroy your life if it means they can win the game. 

If a hero (or ANY untrusted party) ever happens upon your secret identity, it is your responsibility, as a villain and as a human being, to accept the end of your life as you know it…

Or to ensure that the hero can never tell another living soul.]

* * * * * * * *

“See you soon?” Deeby repeated Sweater-vest’s last words incredulously. “See you soon?! Christ, and you know he knows– god, he just needs to stop being such un pendejo and shut the hell up, stop making everything about his goddamn god complex and shoving it en las caras de todos–”

The sudden anger from the usually cool and smug Deeby did not help the apparent panic attack seeping ever so quickly into Stan’s consciousness, especially with said seething bounty hunter circling around the room like an angry shark as he muttered to himself and gesticulated wildly. 

Stan cowered to hide his shirtlessness from said angry shark. His chest and limbs started to buzz from all the excess oxygen entering his system as he took in heavy breaths, his head spinning, dizzy, hurting, every muscle clenching.

“--y quién se cree ese cabrón para venir a joderme MI TRABAJO?” 

He was so angry. So loud, talking so fast, and what the hell was he even saying?! It was too much, too much.

 “Y la puta Lana no puede ni aparecer para decirme que me está jodiendo la vida OTRA VEZ porque es lo único que le encanta hacer, joderme TODO lo que–”

Stop it stop it stay calm stay calm please not now please please please not now you can’t show weakness like this in front of your kidnapper you can’t stop it STOP IT–

He took in an involuntary loud heaving breath. Then fell into a stuttering slew of smaller breaths as he tried to keep quiet, and Deeby finally took notice of the state of his captive. 

Stan squeaked and pulled the jacket around himself tighter. He was small, he was silent, he was invisible. 

Then he gasped in another desperate heaving breath with an involuntary cry of panic when he suddenly ran out of air. He’d stopped breathing entirely with all his efforts.

“Stan? Qué es–... Ah, you good?”

Stan nodded quickly, shaking. “F-fine, fine.”

Deeby raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t lie to me. What is this, you having a panic attack?”

He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, but he shook his head fervently. Then reeled as it made the dizziness and headache so much worse.

“Stan, talk to me, chiquito. If he actually did something to you, tell me. I need a good reason to kill him, you’d be helping me out a lot.”

He didn't actually even hurt me, did he? 

“No–! I-I u-uh-uh yes-s-s, but– but–” 

I don't WANT to ‘help you out’! I don't want to talk about it! ESPECIALLY not with you. 

He let out a whine and failed to swallow the giant knot forming in his throat.

“Alright, is this about the shirt then? Or the uh, the chest thing? Is that why you went from colonizer white to ghost white when you thought I was gonna make you strip earlier?” He walked over to the tattered shirt and scooped it up. “Because if that's what got you, I can assure you I don’t give a single crap what you’ve–... got in your...”

Deeby trailed off as he held up the grey strips of fabric that used to be Stan's button-down. 

And just stared.

Stan gawked at the unrecognizable shredded fabric hanging in the bounty hunter's hands. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't realized how utterly destroyed his beloved shirt was. What was he supposed to wear now?

“That… Motherfucker…” Deeby muttered, almost as as aghast as Stan. “Christ, I knew he'd pull some grade-A bullshit, but this–”

“Y-you KNEW?!” Stan gasped out, surprising himself with the volume of his outburst. “You– You knew he was gonna– gonna try to...”

Deeby didn't look up from the tatters in his hands. “Yeah. He's predictable, if nothing else.”

Stan's entire body felt like it was full of angry bees. “You–... You left me-e alone with ‘im. On pu-urpose.”

“And everything turned out fine, you're fine. Look runt, we need to have a little talk about what–”

“NO!” Stan cried, ignoring the drop in his stomach when Deeby's eyes took on a slight challenging glint at the interruption. “No, don’t change the subject! You left me alone with him! You knew he was gonna try to– to rape me and you left me alone with him! Handcuffed, chained to the floor, powerless, immobile, beat up to hell and– a-and unable to defend myself and you-you left me alone with him!”

The floodgates were opening. The stifling sense of justice suffocating Stan from the inside out wouldn’t let the injustices go unsaid any longer, crashing through his body and just about ready to make him burst. Ironic, given the everything.

Deeby’s jaw set. “Stan. I wouldn’t have left that shit-for-brains alone with anyone if I didn’t have to.”

“Oh, but you– you had to?” Stan taunted, hoping the sarcasm came through in his voice even with the stuttering and heaving breaths. “What, Dee-deeby the great bounty hunter actually answers to someone? Enough to put the uh, the bounty in danger? Or are you just scared of him, wanted to get away?!” 

Deeby snorted.

“Hell yeah, I'll do whatever if the buyer asks it,” he proclaimed. "And I'm not scared of that human cringe-fail. The day I'm scared of him is the day I'm dragged away screaming and turned into… well, you, basically. But I mean, that's when he's actually dangerous…" 

He seemed to think on it for a moment. Then crouched down in front of Stan, smug grin replaced with something like the look a friend gives when they think you're about to ruin your life with a single dumb decision.

“Honesty, bud… I wouldn't be so tough around a guy like that if I were a guy like you. Best to just fuel his ego.”

Stan physically recoiled. “Don't tell me what–! Who-wh–…”

That insult sounded way too genuine. Since when was the mercenary genuine?

“Wait, wait, you'd…” Stan shook his head, trying to untangle his thoughts from the spaghetti of his mind. This concussion was killing him. He could barely think. “If you were… Who even was th-that?”

Another chuckle. “What, Tweedy? That was Vaughn. He said that earlier, though I applaud your ability to block him out. Wish I could do that.”

Then again, the hunter was most likely just trying to psych him out. Get him to behave again. Stan wouldn't fall for something like that.

“No, idiot, I mean–... I meant who is he? Why is he going to-to see me soon?… And– and for that matter, are you working together? Because it seems like you hate each other.”

Deeby let out a huff of air. “Look, bud, we need to talk about that phone call I had to take, the boss–”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“Well frankly, there's more important things to talk about,” Deeby dismissed quickly. “So I was talking with the boss-lady on the phone while you were–”

“I don’t care about what that Lana person has to say!” Stan said, slamming his hands on the floor for effect, a breath-stealing pang running through his ribs at the jostling. “Jus– Just tell me who you guys are, tell me why I’m here, tell me why I should be scared of ‘a guy like that’! Who ARE you?!”

Deeby narrowed his eyes slightly. “We need to talk about what's going to happen to you next. And you're gonna listen to that. Not yell demands at me like some asshole 6-year-old, because you already know I don't deal with all that ‘who am I, secret identity’ crap, so you're not getting those answers.”

Well actually, judging by the horrible sticky weight that slammed Stan in the gut when Deeby said that, he didn't want to know what horrors awaited him next. So next best thing? Keep being an asshole 6-year-old.

“Why?”

“Anonymity is the most valuable tool you can have in this game.” Deeby recited it like a script, exaggerating a monotone boredom. “Also I'm not an idiot, it's protocol that's saved me before, it helps me do my job without getting invested… take your pick.”

“You're not even wearing your mask any more!” Stan cried. “So much for secret identity!”

“I think what you're meaning to say is ‘thank you for rushing to save my damsel-in-distress ass from some twink with scissors when you heard me screaming for help even though you were dealing with a really important phone call from the worst person ever’. And you're very welcome. Now we need to talk about what I found out in that dumbass phone call and what it means for you.”

He always had an answer for everything, huh? Always another quip.

Stan's blood started to boil, and he may have actually, genuinely growled a little. 

“S-so-so so what, you are scared of her, then? You're scared of her and that's why you left me with that monster?!” He tried, spitting back as much smug asshole-ness as Deeby had been throwing at him. “Is that why you hate them, you’re just their damn lackey doing whatever they tell you to do?! Just a puppet for them to guide around, running around capturing supers and serving them up on a silver platter like a good little servant?!”

Deeby stared at him, genuinely stunned by the sudden venom in the captive's words. His fists clenched by his side.

 Hm. Stan may have gone too far.

“Look, McKellen,” Deeby spat as he took an authoritative step forward, voice slow, low and dark. “There are things at play here that you can’t know about–”

“Why not?!” Stan felt like he was losing it, voice creaky and high and hoarse. “Obviously I’m gonna be trapped here with you assholes for the rest of my short life until you kill me with some new form of torture experiment bullshit! Why not tell me everything?! Why not do whatever you want with me?! Just tell me! Please!!”

Stan glared desperately at the bounty hunter. He knew he wasn’t even just crossing the line at this point; he was sprinting over the line and stomping on it repeatedly in a panic-fueled frenzy, kicking at it and letting out his full fury as if the line itself had done this to him, as if absolutely decimating the line would somehow fix everything.

Way deep down, almost too far down to admit to himself, he almost hoped the mercenary would see through the insults and the fighting to see the pleading, hurt, scared man underneath. And then take pity. Just let him have this one thing, before he broke entirely.

But the bounty hunter glared right back at him.

“No.” He stated venomously. “Right now, you're going to shut up. And listen.”

As if Stan would ever listen to the orders of his kidnapper. Of a villain.

A small laugh, just a little chuckle, took root his chest. A disbelieving smile cracked across his face.

The absence of the signature unbothered grin, the absence of the mask, the deathly seriousness? Not to mention the gun, the knives, the chains, the handcuffs, the power suppressing collar, no cane or crutch or any viable mobility aid in sight, and beaten so hard multiple times that he probably couldn't run properly anyway even if he did have a knee that actually worked…

This really was hopeless, wasn't it? 

He could rage against the dying of the light all he wanted. Scream and shout and cry and fight and say witty things to hide the excruciating, never-ending pain. 

But the light would still die all the same.

He clutched Deeby's very own stupid cowboy-ass jacket around his shoulders. He couldn't even defend himself from getting his shirt ripped to shreds right off his body!

And this bitch–

“You– you don't think…” he had to pause to let out a barrage of inappropriate giggles, then shoved up shakily to his feet, back braced against the wall. “You don't still think I'm gonna– that, that I'm gonna escape, do you?!”

Deeby gave pause, eyeing Stan up and down. Really thinking about it. He took a deep breath. A low grumble emanated from the base of his throat.

“No. I don't.”

Stan laughed out again, full force this time. Desperate. Tearful.

“Then just–... just TELL ME!! IT DOESN'T MATTER!! IT DOESN'T!! IT'LL DIE WITH ME!!”

The mercenary's mouth pressed into a thin line. Was that confusion etched into his features? Or worry? Maybe anger…

“It does matter,” He growled through gritted teeth. “It's probably the most important thing you could know, who I am. Who we are.”

Stan let out a loud cry of anguish, screeching out every single frustration at the unfairness of the world, at this situation, at Deeby and Vaughn and whoever Lana was, at the collar and the chains and the cut and bruises and broken bones and his broken, useless knee into a single, guttural sound. 

“WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME ANYTIN-GAH-AH!!”

Very, very suddenly, the lapels of Deeby's loosely draped jacket tightened around his body and slammed him back into the wall, the fleece-lined collar of the jacket twisting and pulling on the power-suppressing strap clamped around his neck, contracting it, choking him just as the slam forced all the breath out of his lungs. 

Stan clawed back against the force, only managing to grasp at Deeby’s forearms uselessly as they twisted the jacket ever tighter around him. Pinning his arms. Trapping him. He had to heave in and out gasping breaths just to get enough air to breath through his half obstructed airways.

“Look at me, chiquito,” the bounty hunter snarled. “Look me in the eye!”

Stan's panicked eyes paused their sporadic dance around the room. They locked dead onto the mercenary's fiery gaze.

“Did you break your damn brain in the 3 minutes I was gone?” Deeby hissed into his ear. Stan almost screeched in terror. “I don't know what sort of fuckery your mind has been conjuring up that you can't get this very simple concept without going insane,” he jolted Stan and dragged out an involuntary whimper from his throat. 

“But whatever it is, shut it down. Now. I'm gonna tell you the bare minimum of what you need to know, and you're gonna sit there and listen or else I won't tell you jack shit and knock you unconscious so I don't have to deal with your bullshit. Agreed?!” 

“I– Ah, a-ah, I– No, I- I, no-no no No-o–”

He couldn't get his thoughts to line up properly. They swarmed around his head like locusts in a dust bowl, bouncing into each other, frenzied, an indecipherable cloud of fear and frustration that his horrible attempt at defiance, futile as it may have been, always just made everything worse.

He could never stop himself.

Angry tears rimmed at Stan's eyes. His body hurt. His brain pounded in his skull. His ribs cried out in protest as they pressed into the wall. The various bruises and their dull, throbbing aches, the cuts and bleeding wounds and their sharp, searing screeches, the sticky and caked on dried blood, so familiar now it was almost a second skin, Deeby's weight pinning him to the wall, so similar and yet so different to the way Vaughn had done the same.

No. No, no, no, no.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally falling in hot, fat drops down his cheeks. The bounty hunter was so close, too close. Stan tried to pull away, and he just leaned on him harder, their faces barely inches apart.

“Agreed, chiquito?” The voice rumbled through his entire body, sending shivers up and down his spine.

No no no no no no no he needed to get away, get away now, please please that's all he needed he couldn't get away he couldn't even move his arms he could barely breathe–

“WHY DON'T YOU JUST RAPE ME ALREADY?!” Stan screamed into the endless cacophonous void.

And silence.

And the entire world went still.

Deeby’s mouth fell literally agape.

His grip on Stan loosened considerably. Not out of pity or any other considerate emotion. Just shock.

At least Stan could finally breathe again. Not that he took a single breath in the silence.

“I–...” Deeby finally choked out. “I-I beg you finest fucking what?!”

“Just fucking do it,” Stan hissed, gasping. “We both know you could. I couldn't even stop Vaughn, you think I could stop you?!”

The words spewed out of his mouth faster than he could stop them, like a volcano that had finally exploded its top off in a fiery glory. And the way Deeby looked at him, as if his features were having an all out war over shock, horror, or honestly very justified anger? Oh, that did nothing but fan the flames of Stan's sorrow-filed hysteria.

“Tall ass muscle-bound freak with an actual gun that captured me and beat me up again and again then left me to die?! I don't even know who you are! You can do whatever you want and I can't do jack shit to stop you! Just do it, hurt me, rape me, it doesn't matter! Vaughn knew that, you can too!” Stan attempted to shove the bounty hunter off, but he still didn't move. 

“Please, please, I'm begging you, is that what you want?! I'll get on my knees!”

Stan collapsed against Deeby's hold, and to his surprise, Deeby finally let him. Well, not ‘let him,’ more like ‘recoiled and jumped back when he felt Stan collapsing in his grasp'. 

All the same.

“Chiquito,” Deeby rasped. “I'm– not exactly sure what or why you're demanding, but I'm not going to–”

“Why not?! It doesn't matter!” Stan assured, holding his arms out to fully present himself now, shedding the jacket onto the floor behind him and taking a daring scoot forward. “I bet you just kicked Vaughn out because you wanted me all to yourself! I bet you just love seeing me scared and helpless and half naked in your stupid fucking yee-yee jacket–”

“Alright, Stan, enough!”

“AT LEAST VAUGHN had the decency to not pretend like he was a decent fucking person like you!” Stan yelled. “We both know you're not above it, fucking professional kidnapper and torturer! So just do it! Like Vaughn wanted to, like he tried to! Finish what he started, you have me all to yourself now! DO IT! DO IT I DARE–”

“The name's Declan.”

The statement was a whisper in the storm. Stan almost missed it. But the resolute certainty of the southern twang stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What–… What did you just–?”

It was astounding how quickly his voice had turned meek from the cacophony of chaos mere seconds before. Dark freckles stood out against an even starker white face than usual.

“It's Declan,” the mercenary stated once more. “My name. My name’s Declan. You wanted t’know who we are, who I am? Fine then, I'm Declan. Want the last name too?”

“I– wait–!”

“It's Cansano. Declan Cansano.”

Stan was shaking, a million thoughts crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. If he weren't already on his knees, surely he would have collapsed. 

He hadn't actually… meant any of that. No. Had he? No. He couldn't have. He didn't want to know who the mercenary was. No, he didn't. He didn't, not really! He would never want that! Never!

“That’s not… Wh-why would you…?”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “You wanted to know who I am. You asked, you screamed, you insulted me and you went fuckin’ nuts over it.” His thunder-filled eyes betrayed his completely relaxed demeanor. “Declan Cansano. Don't forget‘t.”

“I just– That's not what– Wait, Deeby, you– Where are you going?!”

Deeby was already halfway to the door when he swiftly spun around, fists clenched and any trace of the easy demeanor vanished in those bright blood-stained eyes. 

“I can't fuckin’ deal with you right now!”

Stan nearly launched himself back in fear, right back onto Deeby's stupid, soft jacket. He grasped it up as a barrier between him and the mercenary without even thinking. The mercenary's demeanor relaxed from absolutely terrifying to merely extremely angry at the sorry sight.

“I'm leaving for a bit.” He whipped around and grasped for the lapels of his jacket to yank it on, only for his grasp to come up empty. He whipped around a third time. “And I'll be expectin’ my coat back when I get back! You better've calmed the hell down by then, if you know what’s good for you.”

Wait, wait, he was leaving? No!

Stan tried to scramble after Deeby, but immediately fell to the agony of his knee and the length of his leash. 

“Don't go, please!” he pleaded.

Deeby didn’t stop. “Why?”

What if you come back with more torture tools? 

What if you don't come back at all? 

I still have more questions for you. 

You can't just leave me here, I'm hurt! 

I shouldn't be alone right now. I can't. I'm scared of what will happen, I'm going insane.

Even you are better than no one at all.

“What– what if Vaughn comes back?!”

Deeby scoffed. “I'm not going that far, damn. Eat some protein bars while I'm gone so you don't die, should help with the insanity. Back soon.”

And the door to the room closed shut behind him, the click echoing off the walls in the sudden unbearable silence. 

Stan collapsed to the floor, defeated.

He clutched the jacket closer. 

Pulled it tight around his shoulders, fingernails leaving small crescent-shaped indents on the well-worn hide. The cotton lining was so surprisingly soft against his skin. Hell, he could smell the dirt and musk that permeated the jacket from years of use, the smal signs that this jacket had seen the capture of dozens of supers.

Declan.

Declan Cansano.

Professional Superhero-Hunter.

Stan screamed into the endless abyss around him.

And this time, Declan didn’t come back to save him.

* * * * * * * *

Next (when posted)

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything | @paperprinxe | @lovethiswriting

#whump #heroes and villains #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #hero whump #defiant whumpee #kidnapping whump #captivity whump #trans whumpee #disabled whumpee #(un)official guide #mentioned noncon #tw nervous breakdown #GOD this one took SO LONG TO EDIT #AND WRITE #its basically unrecogniseable from its first draft bc i just kept having new ideas that fit the themes better #and changing it to help make it make sense #usually it wouldnt be this bad but i wrote it over like 3 serperate weeks in short bursts #so i didnt have any of the usual writing fervor in it at first and the pacing was FUCKED lol #I FINALLY GOT IT THO #its still not perfect but its pretty good and i CANNOT work on this any longer #ALL OF THIS was done on my phone btw. horrible time #would not reccomend #use a computer if you can #anyway ive been thinking about this specific scenario literally since before i started writing the actual story down #it was one of the main story beats #a changing of the tides #theres gonna be a lot of those pretty soon actually

[cupkisser]

my personal favorite old man

#these are like. first drafts basically #not finished but also. idk if i wanna finish them. so here we are #carey price #montreal canadiens #nhl #camart #🪴

[cloverandcrossbones]

Who TF decided that the His Dark Materials (Golden Compass) books were for kids/young adults?

I attempted to read them when I was the "target" age for them and it was the first time I ever remember tapping out on a book because it was above my reading comprehension (I regularly read books that were 2-3 years ahead of my "reading level" and was generally up for a challenge so that should tell you how much of I struggled). I gave up partway through the second book, The Subtle Knife, and didn't touch them again until this year.

And, boy, am I glad I waited! There is so much to this series that would have just been totally lost on me as a kid. The way it explores theology and morality would have gone right over my head. Even now with a bachelor's degree in English literature under my belt the depth to these books astounds me.

Every chapter of the Amber Spyglass opens with a quote from Milton's Paradise Lost, or one of William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience, or some other theologian or philosopher or outright Bible verses. Every chapter. In a series that was regularly promoted to 10 year olds. Yes, kids can be pretty smart and I hate when adult authors talk down to them, but what 10 year old is reading Paradise Lost?

I'm not saying you need a degree to understand this stuff, but you would have to have read a lot of foundational texts to get the full depths of the references. I also ended up leaning a lot on the religious study courses I've taken (and theological education from growing up Catholic) to identify specific religious theories/schools of thought which was just fascinating. Religious groups HATE these books! They're extremely critical of organized religion and Christian beliefs especially as they are canonized by the Catholic and Anglican churches. It's a three-book fiction trilogy exploring and arguing against Milton's interpretation of original sin.

So why was this series labelled as YA? Simple, the protagonists are kids; they're 12 years old.

Why did Pullman write about 12 year olds if the series wasn't meant for them? Because the biggest theme of the story is sin and children are considered innocent. Lyra and Will are coming of age and transitioning from childhood innocence to adulthood and its accompanying consciousness/self awareness that allows us to be held responsible for sinning.

Anyway here's an entry to the literal Wikipedia page for the series that I think sums it up:

Although His Dark Materials has been marketed as young adult fiction, and the central characters are children, Pullman wrote with no target audience in mind.

#This has been buzzing in my head for weeks since I finished the series #This is not as well written as it could be its basically just a first draft but hey this is my Tumblr blog not a published journal #his dark materials #philip pullman #The golden compass #the subtle knife #the amber spyglass #Not trying to tag spam I just legitimately mention all three books and want to categorize them accordingly for my blog #Even tho idk if I've ever reblohhed any HDM stuff here before having never finished the series until now #Religion #Theology #Christianity #Original sin

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

#no but i've way too many ideas lmaoo #i forgot ive a whole longass post in my drafts dedicated to ramblings abt this longfic and i came across it today ahaha #like amy leading a manhunt for leonard bc shes got everyone to think he killed her sister (who she didn't even like much smh) #and topher's one of the ppl involved and when shawn hears he's like “topher? yeah i can handle him dw” (possible tophawn minor pairing??) #and leonard's abt to get the equivalent of being burnt at the stake literally #when guess who shows up in a fucking mercedes of all cars #fucking dave #and he helps leonard escape narrowly by driving fast af and leonard's so confused bc like “i thought you'd be with those guys” #and get this: dave doesnt believe leonard killed sammy bc of his vehement belief that leonard doesn't know magic LMAOOO #and leonard doesnt know whether to be affronted or grudgingly thankful bc if it wasn't for dave's desire for everything to be normal #leonard would have been part of the witch trials 2.0 #and idk who's watched st but the plot is somewhat inspired by it #like shawn goes missing first and dave as his best friend is panicking abt it (in this one axel is shawns cousin???) #and then when they find him at last the weird deaths start leading to leonard finding sammy dead and this whole situation #and theres a whole different world underneath them and its up to leonard dave ella and sky to team up and prevent certain destruction #and theres slowburn leonave (with pining leonard and oblivious dave) #and leonard lives with his uncle whos understanding of his passions (unlike his dad who basically gave him away for the same reason) #and leonard's life is total opppsite from dave's #and they both know it #and omgggg this au has been a brainrot for so goddamn long #but idk why i just got a slew of ideas for it today #and like dave stays over at leonards at one point and leonard gives him his bed (like a gentleman) #and the next morning shawn barges in like “wheres my best friend” bc ever since he was taken he's been v paranoid abt losing the ppl he lov #and he hugs dave and daves like “how dirty are you rn” and shawns like “nothing yet i waited so that i can hug you when i see your dumb ass #and everyones like abt dave to leonard “idk if he's the right one for you” #but then later on dave saves his life by going a little bit unhinged classic dave-style #and ends up scaring a nurse and receptionist into retiring early #total drama #td leonard #td dave

[risetherivermoon]

---

“Take me out.” She says. Nicky blinks.

“Huh?”

“On a date, let’s go out.” She nudges them a little. Nicky tilts their head to the side.

“You- I just told you I’ve been sleeping with not just one of your best friends, but two of them, and with your twin brother as well. Now you want to go out with me?” Nicky laughs in astonishment, running a hand through their bangs. “Respectfully, Sparrow, are you an idiot?” Sparrow pouts at that.

---

hii i posted a chapter of smth lovesong related!! aka incredibly self indulgent sapphic & ace-spec lovesong

this is the first time ive posted any of my lovesong writing, sooo enjoy! i love nicky and sparrow sm

(title from Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan)

#read the tag!!! #Good Luck Babe! by autumnl3av3s #first time posting on ao3 in a bit..ive also got an Oh Universe draft saved..tho im trying to edit that thing a ton #ive also got chapter 3 of don't look now planned out already just need to start on that #ive got drafts for basically everything i should be posting besides this but- i do what i want #lovesong #lovesong dndads #nicky close #nicholas close #nick close #sparrow oak #sparrow oak garcia #my writing #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #dungeons & daddies #dndads fic #dndads fanfic #dndads fanfiction #tw sex mention #🍁

[captainbogwitch]

Excerpt: The Hands That Wield the Sword

And it truly was a feast. What would be multiple courses in a more Hylian setting was presented all at once on the Zora’s table. Sidon give Link the name of each dish as they pass it, happily placing however much of it the Hylian wants onto his plate (his first plate, anyway. Sidon quickly went to grab another when it was full.) Many of the dishes had names in Hylian, but the prince was eager to share what they were called in the Zora tongue as well and enthusiastically offered to learn their signs in the Zora Sign Language, as well as Hylian Common Sign.

On the table set in silver or stone bowls are foods Link had never seen. Hineska’ Agaga’, the Hylian rice dyed red with achote seeds, spiced with onion, garlic, and a hot pork sausage Sidon called chorizo; salads made of cucumbers and daigu’ radishes pickling in a bowl of soy sauce and lemon juice sitting beside a plate of stir fried bok choy, Hylian shrooms, and spicy peppers. The smell of hot frying oil filled his senses as they passed the fried vegetable lumpia, its rice paper wrapping dark brown and sizzling. A few bońelos uhang, small, pan-fried cakes of shrimp and vegetables sat next to the lumpia and red rice creating a small wall between it and savory breadfruit swimming in fresh coconut milk. Link recognizes the smell of kelaguen and tityas from the meal Kodah and Kayden gave him the morning before, but Sidon explains that this is kelaguen månnok, made with poultry rather than seafood. Its spicy aroma sent Link’s mouth tingling, the taste of sharp lemon, crisp spice, and fresh, earthy niyok coming back to him joyfully.

The “entrees,” as they would be called on Hylian tables, comprised of pansit bihon månnok; clear, thin rice noodles dressed brown with fish and oyster sauce, tossed together with sautéed snow peas, poultry, carrots, and bamboo shoots, topped with bright white, crunchy bean sprouts and lime juice. There was fresh, seared sizzelfin trout encrusted with sesame seeds that fell apart beautifully when you took a bite, the sesame seeds adding a delicious texture to the soft fish. Tender grilled pork spareribs sprinkled with only pink rock salt and course pepper sat at the end of the line followed by three small bowls of desserts, which, once they finally came into view, made Link’s eyes widen in excitement. In one sat steamed sweet niyok and cassava, its smell bringing a sense of freshness and cleanliness after the line of strong, savory dishes. Sidon has to turn Link away from the baked pumpkin empanadas (påstets) and crumbly inafliton roset cookies before he could stuff them in his mouth, promising that he will bring them once they sit.

At their place settings are cups of fresh water and an earthenware pot of lemon ginger tea. Link, a master of restraint, waits for Sidon to finish making his own plate and sit down before he explores the vast richness in front of him.

#i'm working on incorporating more culture into thtws #writing tptktb taught me a lot about what i want to write and also how i write #coming back to this first draft that i wrote in APRIL is coocoo nutzo to me #hence the two week breaks between updates #because i'm basically rewriting everything sksksksskk #anyway i do go into detail about food #so that's fun #sidlink #sidlink fic #my writing #my fic #link/sidon #link #prince sidon #loz fanfic