#where was this energy eVERY OTHER GODDAMN TIME I WAS WRITING FIC

[odetodilfs]

Hey could you do a fan fic where how Din Dijarin like goes on a mission kind of between the events of The boob of boba fett where he gave away Grougu “baby yoda” and goes on a bounty hunting mission but gets a unexpected partner on the way and Din doesn’t trust him at first but then starts like trusting him more and then kinda start having feeling you could make it fluff or smut it doesn’t matter as long the story is good. this could have potential to be more then 1 part but it depends on how you do it please and thank you

Two guys in a spaceship

Hey anon!! I loved writing this it was so damn cute!! I decided to make it pure fluff and a very soft Din at the end.

Pairing: Din Djarin x male!reader Warnings: Din being the quiet lil guy he is, kissing.

Din had been assigned a new bounty hunting mission in which they told him to expect a new partner, not that it was guaranteed, they had told him it was likely to happen. Din hated that, he wasn’t much of a talkative guy, and being in a spaceship with just one other person just wasn’t his kind of thing. He wouldn’t have minded if he was with 5 other people because that meant those 5 people would talk to each other and not him, but when it was just one other person, avoiding a conversation became difficult. It didn’t help that he had had to give away Grogu, so he was very depressed.

That was why they decided to send you, it was clear Din was extremely upset and low energy every day since he lost Grogu so they assigned you, in hopes to lift his spirits. You had the same orders to not take your helmet off in public, so neither of you knew what you looked like. You decided to greet Din, and leave a good first impression. He was sitting, just finishing the controls of the spaceship, “Hey… Din Djarin, right?” you asked,

“Yes,” he replied bluntly, damn, that hurt“I’m (your name), pleasure!!” you said cheerfully, you knew that beneath every grumpy man was a soft, caring man, and you were going to prove that, “Nice,” he just said, “Do you need help?” you asked, “No, just go, please” he said, and so you left, you wanted to make friends with him, not make him think you were a creep.

Several days went like this until you felt some noises coming from somewhere on the ship, you walked until you say Din curled up in a ball, he looked like he was crying, you knew the reason why; Grogu, but when you went to approach him he looked at you, he didn’t have his helmet on, both of you froze, “Oh- shit- I-” he said, fumbling his helmet back on, getting up, “Din, wait” you stopped him, you took off your helmet too, “Now we know who we are” you smiled at him, Din just nodded and left. You were standing there thinking, Din was extremely hot, his brown eyes, his mustache, his full looking lips, goddamn, he was a sight to behold.

This led you to be more flirty around him, but Din noticed that pushing you away was getting harder, he actually started liking your company and engaged in a couple medium length conversations with you, he was a pretty nice guy, he even opened up about dealing with Grogu’s loss, you told him to keep being strong, you both still had not taken off each other’s helmets ever since that time. Lucky for Din, as by now, he was blushing like crazy under that helmet, he couldn’t deny it anymore, he was starting to have feelings for you… 

One night, you were sitting, looking at the endless void that was space, you had not been as flirty with Din over the past few days, but now you were gonna drop and absolute bomb on the man; comment on his looks under the helmet, “You know, you should take off that helmet when we’re here, I love having something pretty to look at” you smirked at him, 

“Shut up, I’m not pretty” he said as he chuckled slightly, he had started to joke around with you, “Oh, yes you are, take off the helmet” you ordered softly, jokingly even, he looked at you for a second, then he took it off, those beautiful brown eyes looking at you again, his face flushed, you took it off, revealing a similar tone of scarlet blush, you looked at each other, “Din, you’re not pretty, you’re fucking gorgeous” you said as you leaned in, he let himself lean forward. You closed the gap between you as you kissed him, both of you humming into each other’s mouths, releasing the tension that had built up over the week you were together, you pulled apart to look at each other, both of you smiled, Din’s smile turned into a frown of thoughts. “Din?” you asked him, holding his shoulder, “We can do this again, right?” he asked, 

“Of course we can, as many times as you want,” you explained to him, 

“But, can we, can we stay together?” he asked timidly, “you’ve treated me better in one week than anyone’s treated me in my whole life” he confessed, sobbing a bit “Shhh, it’s fine, do you mean you want to… be more than just friends?” you asked, hoping for the answer you’d wanted, “If you want to” he smiled, “We can try, I wasn’t expecting to get a pretty boyfriend during a bounty hunt, but it’s killing 2 birds with one stone” you joked, he laughed as he leaned onto you, falling into your arms as you kissed his forehead, the dark void and stars shining behind you.

#din djarin #din djarin x male reader #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #x male reader #gay #gay love

[staceymcgillicuddy]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thanks to @astorytotellyourfriends for the tag - I didn't do this last year!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

If She Lived in Space, Man, I'd Build A Plane crimson & clover pulling overtime model citizen; zero discipline what you give just serves me right two jack trippers and a chrissy perception check all my kinktober fills a hollow tree

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Gosh, that's hard. I'm proud of all of them for different reasons, and I have issues with all of them for different reasons. I guess I would say "what you give just serves me right" makes me happy, and was something I had to push myself to do, but I was pleased with how it turned out in the end.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate that I have two fics out that I haven't updated in ages! I am not proud of that! And there are a few things in all of them that I'd tweak.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh golly. Alright, from a hollow tree, which was my Halloween fic featuring Lilith!succubus!Chrissy:

Fog slips into the van when he opens the door. A mist so thick it’s disorienting as he drops to the ground, and the shape of a girl forms itself out of the gloom.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Almost every single regular commenter on Soul makes my heart sing and my panties drop, and I'm so sorry my brain is being stupid right now.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Right goddamn now. It's like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, and I have no idea why, but everything comes out strained and blechy and I hate it, and I refuse to inflict it on anyone else so I'll just sit like a lump, churning out crap and never showing it to anyone.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Genuinely did not think that I would get so into the Hopper/Chrissy/Eddie dynamic as I did when I wrote it as a crackship as part of kinktober. But, like, I could get DOWN with that shit.

Also, Hellcheerington surprised me. Oh, and writing Eddie's dad for Soul was weirdly cathartic? I was determined to make him a person and not a collection of cliches, which was easier said than done. I think I got there, in the end. Hope so, anyway!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I didn't, I fucking regressed. Or, no, not really. I pushed myself a bit, tried to get sharper and cleaner with some prose. Read some theory books, worked on my rhetorical devices, forced myself to kill a couple darlings along the way (but not all the darlings, god damn it).

I also published a book, so yay?

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to get back to writing original fiction. I've been in a slump with that, too, because it doesn't have the instantaneous feedback that fanfic does. I want to split my time between fic and pro writing stuff, and I want to be very realistic about how much mental energy my real job takes up. When I used to write like a madwoman, I didn't have the role I currently do, which is a senior project manager leading a team, working mostly with executive-level staff. Don't get me wrong, my job pisses me off a lot, and stresses me out, too, but it pays well and we live in a shithole of a society where money matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, like, I guess I hope to grow as a writer in writing even when my brain doesn't want me to, or it doesn't feel great to do so.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Freaking Shirley Jackson, man. That bitch can write.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm always putting kinky shit I see or experience at the bdsm club into my fic. I am as God made me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Everything is made up and the points don't matter. Stop comparing yourself to other authors. Turn off stats on your AO3. Write what you fucking want and quit worrying if other people are going to like it.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm going to be so, so glad when Soul is done because I love it so much but it is also the millstone around my neck.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@binickandros, @pipergirl17 and @phoenixwrites please!

#ask meme #writing #personal #bsc diaries #i rambled a lot up there #thank u for reading if u got this far #gentle forehead kisses for you

[hekateinhell]

sending this well after you've probably gone to bed HOWEVER i am always ready to report for louis/armand/lestat duty so HERE GOES:

Every time they get in a petty fight, someone rearranges the vinyl collection at Trinity Gate. Louis organizes alphabetically by artist, Armand organizes by genre, and Lestat organizes chronologically. The music room is a goddamn war zone.

When Lestat is an Extra Extra Good Boy (or just in need of some tlc in general) Louis and Armand make the best mani-pedi team. Louis takes a foot and Armand takes a hand, then they switch for the opposite side. 

Somehow Armand gets ahold of the tattered old TVL band shirt that Louis used to sleep in. He lounges around the house in it and has both Lestat and Louis drooling in SECONDS (bonus smut points if Louis and Lestat both take turns fucking him in it)

Also this is just Louis/Armand but listen i've been thinking a lot lately of how strong Armand is!!! Like I know the fun thing about his character is that he's got the craziest mental tenacity for someone trapped in a small/young body, but I do think people sleep on how physically strong he is as well. Anyway, all I'm saying is: I want to see him hoist Louis up against a wall and fuck him <3 I want Louis to get overpowered and dicked down by someone half a foot shorter than him LOL it would be good for him!!!!!!

ASHLEYYYYY OH MY GOD I LOVE ALL THESE SO MUCH YOU ALWAYS HIT ME WHERE I LIVE!!! 😭😭😭

i love thinking about what their domestic life would look like LMAO canon or human AU because all three of them complement and contrast each other so fucking well, i'm all over that all day every day!!!! asksfkdsgj rip the music room 💀 i hope to god nobody gets petty enough to fuck with the library and louis's meticulously thought out system of displaying his books that only he knows (lestat gets petty enough, armand knows better -- tbh idk if he actually ever gets mad at louis? as easily as lestat sets him off, louis has the opposite effect. but for argument's sake, i think if louis did piss armand off, armand would react by pretending he's fine but he would immediately start being infantilizing and weird. really, really emphasizing the "sweet, dusty louis" every other sentence like he's marius talking to a wain victorian orphan).

NO BUT THIS IS SO SWEET!!! not to get too serious but for canon fic i think about court era!lestat a lot and like how he comes right out and says to marius "you don't want a prince in me, you want a figurehead, you would be the ruler here" and really just all the times he sounds so Tired & Done™️ in general with everything. lestat getting some TLC from his consort and madame de pompadour on the regular is harm reduction at its finest lbr. i wanna see armand and louis giving him a perfumed bath a la QotD but without the trauma (and like in Air Catcher too now that i've triggered the memory, i love your brain so much DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I REREAD THAT FIC 🥹)

OH MY GOD STOP PLEASE!!! i wanna know like was armand intentional about wearing louis's lestat shirt? in his mind, is this The Next Logical Step in their threesome relationship? was he expecting a reaction or was he just looking to self-soothe and instead of going for one of louis's baggy sweaters that would hit the thigh on armand, he just grabbed the shirt? regardless, i hope they dped him 🫶🏼 (i totally need this to happen both in canon verse and in teen au future verse)

NO ASHLEY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND LMAO NOBODY KNOWS BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH GOING ON TO ACTUALLY WRITE BUT THE SMUT MACHINE NEVER STOPS AND LATELY I JUST WANT ARMAND TO TOP EVERYONE!!!! i wanna see the short king bend back those long legs and go to town on these catholic boys! 🤧 armand is the ultimate switch and he is, in his own words, NOT A WAIF. he can lift that bag of bones easily!!! ❤️ and i remember we talked about like top/bottom dynamics with lestat and louis--either physically or just energy wise--and how it would probably take a considerable amount of time and effort for louis to heal enough to relinquish that control to lestat again following the RR years and all that went down... i'm thinking like if i wanted squish armand in there and I DO, it would be a good step in that direction for louis to practice being open (get it? i'll see myself out) with armand first (literally expanding on PL canon here just adding the sex LMAO). tl;dr: it would be good for both of them if armand fucked that sad, wet man (as a treat) ALSO ALSO SEE MY FAVE "ARMAND FUCKS LOUIS" FICLET THAT IS WAY TOO FUCKING SHORT

#my answers are very stream of consciousness these days i can't be bothered but also- #I HAD SO MANY INCOHERENT THOUGHTS I'M SORRY ILY THANK YOU <3 #armand/lestat/louis #armand/louis #vc #you ask and hekate answers

[rayclubs]

Hey I was just wondering, so you have any tips for pacing when you’re writing your fics? I only ask because I’m having a bit of trouble with it at the moment, and you never seem to linger too long or gloss over things too quickly in yours. Anyway that’s all, hope you’re having a great day!

Yeah! I mean, I'm sure as hell no expert on pacing, god knows I struggle with it A LOT, but I feel like I've learned some things over the years that I can share, and then maybe it'll help somebody!

The advice I've seen a lot in variations is "always have everything planned". Every scene has to make sense. Every bit has to contribute. Every line needs to be important. Always have an ending in mind. Yadda yadda yadda. Well, I'm some type of neurodivergent and I really can't do that at all, I rarely have any more than a setup, a bit in the middle, and a vague idea of a fade-out 90s song ending - if not less.

The way I go around this is: if you don't know how to write a scene, don't write it.

Characters are at Point A, but I need them to travel to Point B. The scene of them traveling is a goddamn pain in the ass. How do I write it? I don't. I say "At Point B, they-" and continue the story.

Another good trick is to remember that you are writing in a non-linear space, meaning you can skip over things and then come back.

Sometimes when two things don't work one after the other, I swap them and see what happens. Sometimes I combine them - like, in the last chapter of Blank Slate, I was supposed to write Heavy meet Pyro, the Scout, but I thought Pyro and Scout at the same time would be more exciting. Dunno if it worked as intended, but I like it better.

Setup and payoff is also good. When you introduce something - that's setup. When that thing resolves - that's payoff. Thespace between them is like a circle, the setup and payoff are giving your text a li'l hug. For a good example of this see my fic Close Call, it's packed with these. For a simpler example see Speak Up, it's got like three or four circle, like a matreshka. I can do a detailed breakdown sometime but it feels kind of obnoxious, I'm a bit, uh, shy about my writing.

Another thing I love is using sentence length to communicate scene energy. Short sentences for action, long structures for instrospection. Long to short for sudden stops and accents, short to long for scene transitions and timeskips. Also, intersperse long dialogues with action blocks to create smaller sections with more contained dialogue topics that are easier to follow.

Cutting useless dialogue is always good. I like to say a line is no good if you can't tell who's saying it without a dialogue tag, but you can't always follow that rule. Still. Good to keep in your head.

Dialogue order, too! If Character A and Character B are talking, and A is saying a line in Paragraph 1, A's next line will be on Paragraph 3. If you have A's line on 1, B's line on 2, action on 3 - well, you can't put A's on 4, you need another action on 4 so A lands on 5. I hope this makes sense. If it doesn't, let me know and I'll go more in detail. I try to always follow this rule, at least within one scene, sometimes across scenes - it really helps cutting out unnecessary dialogue tags that clutter the text.

I think I do this thing where I overexplain everything. Honestly still not sure if the dialogue between Spy and Sniper near the end of Close Call was obvious to everybody or so obscured in round-about hints that nobody got it. But it's fine! Generally I think you want to have your audience figure some things out, I think. Not restate the same clever plot point many times beause you fear people won't get it. Just say it once and pray to god. It takes some major balls tho, if I'm being fully honest.

This is getting long so I'm gonna close with: write what you're excited to write! If you're not excited about writing a scene, don't think "How am I going to write this?", think "How am I going to avoid writing this?". Kill the first draft servant in your brain, it's only malicious non-compliance from here onward.

#raynswers #ray's bs #hope this all makes sense!! im glad you think so highly of my writing btw!! #i know my flaws but I write for pleasure so 😇 not liable for psychic damage I inflict btw

[primewritessmut]

🍄🦋🦴🪲🎨

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings.

Already answered. Although, I suppose I could come up with another one...?

Okay. This is kind of head canon and kind of supported by actual canon, but I don't think Eddie Brock has a problem eating human brains. There was definitely a long journey to get to that point and I'm sure a lot of arguments with the symbiote BUT I think it stopped bothering him because it was the only way to keep the symbiote healthy and the symbiote is more important to Eddie than some random human.

I do love his very specific morality around a lot of things, but that especially.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately.

Not fanfic related but just the lack of resources for people in the United States. (It might be true in other countries, but I can only speak to it where I live.) It takes so much energy to scrape and claw and sacrifice just to maybe have that thing covered by healthcare. Or to possibly have enough maternity leave from your job. Or to almost have enough food to keep yourself alive.

There are no social supports here and I think that (a) makes shit so hard for very specific portions of the population and (b) makes it difficult to also juggle, and protest and organize around, all the bullshit that is happening in other places.

I'm not going to get on a soap box or anything, but it's always on my mind. Life is so fucking hard ON PURPOSE, and I hate it.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

Not intentionally. But I think my writing is always impacted/informed by whatever media I'm consuming at the time. I can go back through certain stories or fics and remember exactly what I was reading or watching based on what happens in them.

Like, yes, there is a specific piece of media that inspired Need You Like a Gun to the Head (Distraction by Kelly Fox). Or the fact that He Speaks Daggers is a direct insert for a certain season/episode in Loki. But in terms of overall inspiration? IDK. I'm sure the knife thing came from somewhere but I couldn't tell you where.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here.

Mobius’s gaze sweeps Loki from head to toe, partially because he hasn’t gotten to see the front view and partially because—

“Take your jacket off.” Mobius herds Loki a few steps away from the bleeding liability on the floor.

“Most people buy me a drink first.”

“I’ve bought you several drinks. Now take off your goddamn jacket.”

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it.

Is it too self-centered to share one inspired by a fic I wrote? Because I'm going to do it anyway. @wolfpup026 made the most immaculately gorgeous fanart of Loki from chapter one of Midori Sour (like they crawled inside my head and plucked him right out!) and I kick my feet every time I think about it. There's something just so. SO. about inspiring another artist to create something. It's such a feeling of appreciation and community, and it's the time I most love being in fandom.

x

#ask game #sorry this got a little sad in the middle #but i think we pulled it out in the end #thank you #inbox

[galatially]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 🫧

𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛

of the essence by @inklore — if y'all haven't read anything from lauren before, let this be your introduction; she's a fucking artist the way that she weaves her characters into existing universes and i can only hope to write half as well as she does

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙

lovelorn masterlist by @tomdutch — do you like pining? roommates to possible lovers? all set in a college au with peter parker, reader, and cindy moon? well, s had you covered; or, the masterlist stayed in my drafts to remind me to read the updates and my jobs have killed my brain cells so please read this brilliance and give it lots of love!

sunrise, sunset by @peachyteabuck — i don't need to gush about how much i need lukis to fucking produce epics, but i will lol. they've taken such a sensitive topic and beautifully drawn us a world where grief is complicated and new normals are harder when you love people. honestly, this story made me fucking cry and do all the fangirl feel things and i need them to just never stop writing

𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠

friction by @faeology — this is my first time seeing @faeology on my dash but thank fuck i did because this was hot and needy and i could fucking feel the tension across my own skin between eddie and reader. if you're looking for palpable angst and genuine chemistry, go to sav and you'll be in heaven

it happened one night in detention by @mypoisonedvine — let me tell y'all something! the chokehold this had on me and my drafts was fucking insane! i'm pretty sure i read this five times before reblogging this because i was in such awe; the descriptions, the world-building! i wanna write like j.d. when i grow up lol

i don't play with my pen (i mean what i write) by @edens-pen — as a connoisseur of thirst tweet videos, i wish that this episode was real because goddamn! i love a good cocky!eddie fic and this did not disappoint. something about artists that are hot, know they're hot, but are still fucking cool and shit? unmatched energy. not gon' hold y'all though, i'd have been loud and proud about wanting eddie to just ruin me on twitter dot com lol

june baby: one, two, three by @luveline — i fucking love this series and every day i get on, i'm hoping to see that jade's updated so i can follow the adventures of eddie, reader, and june bug! i'm so attached to these three like they're friends of mine and i love watching their relationship deepen and, as a fervent slow burn lover, i'm foaming at the mouth for them to finally kiss!

a little mean for me by @upsidedownwithsteve — firstly, i love steve harrington, right? like, he went from being this asshole who's only personality trait was his money and his status to being a real fucking person, you know? one of my favorite characters, hands down. secondly, just because of this story, i want him to affectionately bully and kiss the tears away

𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑔𝑢𝑛

my feet can't touch the bottom of you by @sunderlust — i know nothing about the top gun franchise other than tom cruise is in it and val kilmer used to be, lol. but the way people like laur and sol write about the characters, maybe i'll bite the bullet and watch them? even if i don't, sol's description of jake "hangman" seresin is perfectly arrogant and aloof and i wanted to grind his balls under my foot for hurting my bartender babe

veracious and coveted facade by @inklore — laur, at this point, this is my proposal for your hand in matrimony because why the fuck do you write such masterpieces for mere mortals like me to gaze upon? who told you?

lurk by @zstrn — tori, my love, i stand ten toes on what i said: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw can have his feet planted on my mattress to turn me into slime. UNTIL THE FOULEST OF STENCHES LEAVES THE ROOM OKAY

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i didn't read much because of jobs and lack of time after them but i did read some real gems so please, please give the lovely people reads and keep them writing!

#kendra recs 📖 #stardust reblog challenge #stardust reblog masterlist #support content creators #support your favorite content creators

[space-blue]

1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 11

Great selection, this took me a long while to hunt down the answers! From the Fandom end of year ask.

favourite fandom you joined this year

Bit of a cheat because it's a 'sub' fandom, but I'll say Andor (star wars). Avatar is right there, yes, but it doesn't have the oomph of Andor. Avatar has a ton of missing character development, and if the world were more approchable, I'd see myself doing a lot of fix its and missing scenes. Andor is difficult on the other hand because it's so perfect. Hard to feel like I have anything to add to the fandom. But it's the one show I've been rewatching to death and having so much respect for.

favourite fic of the year 

This is basically impossible to piiiiick.

I'll mention Fathers & Daughters, even though it's my own, because you have to goddamn love a fic to spend more than a year slaving over it. And I dooo, and yes I AM working on the final chapter still, soz lol

The hottest smut I've read was Boundaries by Spiced, and well, I did nag about it when we discussed the idea, and it's a gift, but that doesn't change the fact it's the best :3 Very happy with it. It's hot by my ace standards. Basically very mindfuck focused. Fandom is Andor!

And then for multi chapter, I'm going to mention this absolutely insane and amazing FE3H complete fic To Those Who Are Never Going Home by MadameHyde. It's set after the game in an Empire win, where a lot of the Blue Lions find themselves teaching at Garrech Mach. I didn't read the tags so some reveals blew my little brain out of the water, it was amazing. Super prose, very character driven, really enjoyed it.

favourite fanart of the year

I thought this would be hard to answer, and then I realised it wouldn't be, actually, even if I'm cheating. BOTH these Maliketh fanarts have been my screen backgrounds for MONTHS. This one is on my phone and on my better Discord :

And this one is my laptop background :

They're dope and Maliketh is top pubber and I'm still obsessed with him. He's peak design and radiates blorbo energies. He's broken and I wanna fix him and pet him and--

favourite author of the year

@spicedrobot That one isn't too hard. I've read a LOT of their work this year, by vertue of doing a lot of beta swaps, and because they write some very delicious ships. They are responsible for 99% of my smut intake in 2022. Also I think it says a lot about an author that you can beta them every other day and never get tired of their unhinged content. They're just that good. (They are in a constant state of wrangling me over my terrible comma game, so they're also very patient and could have strangled me a long time ago, yet they didn't!)

favourite creator of the year

Very hard choice, especially when it's so broad and I've already struggled with the fanart one… But I'm going to go with :

@aromansoul. I just really love their art, and finding them through a shared Silco obsession was delightful. They have a very unique style, with colours that seem to float and come in and out of focus. You'll be staring at a super rendered area and it's perfect, and then you look elsewhere and realise half the drawing is just broad strokes… Absolutely tricks my mind, it's delightful. Also they have some fantastic unique designs of their own content that I think are dope.

favourite OC you met this year

Ah, finally an easy one! Meet Rain Drenched Mountain. He's @scuttlebuttin's Predator OC and he's very sweet. I love his design, his lore, and I think he has great taste. Very handsome lad and each time I see more art of him I feel like a little kid. I mean, Scuttlebuttin is a big favourite artist, and where they're not in a very very distressing blood-gore-clown period, I'm always thrilled to see what they post. Just check out their Odin fanart for the new God Of War, it's out of this world!!

#phew lots of gushing #fandom #fanfic #fanart #anon ask #ask game #fandom ask game #fic recs #art recs #predator #elden ring #maliketh #rain drenched mountain #silco #andor #fe3h

[kaibacorpintern]

4 and 30 for that fanfiction writing ask game? :^)

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

YESSSSSS I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD ASK ME THIS!! it's all prideshipping :3

A Heart Beats Under the Iron by WaveIkaros @yuugisbarber

a medieval/fantasy "arranged marriage" AU where kaiba and atem get married in order to stop the war between their countries and atem is so patient and game but kaiba is in suuuuuch a goddamn snit about it. and i love it. this fic is so much fun.

If Music Be the Food of Love by Desidera

a PIANO AU!! the prose is to die for and i love the all the details about music. i looove the way Desi writes the tension and energy between Kaiba and Atem it grips me EVERY TIME

Agency/Communion by ras_al_goose

An incredible economy of prose I can only hope to imitate, sly, absurdist humor, strong characterization, delicious horror and fantasy elements = a fic that feels like a continuation of original yugioh in the best way possible

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

enjoy this wall of text about kaiba bros <3

BROTHER SAINT SINNER SAVIOR STRANGER AS STIFF AND BRITTLE AS A STATUE FATHER MOTHER MONSTER YOU CLUTCH HIM IN THE DARK YOU AVOID HIM BY DAY WHEN HIS EYES SHINE LIKE BULLETS IN THE BARREL OF A GUN. Do not disturb him! He is studying. It is two AM and he is arguing with God. In the morning you will find the end of the argument under the couch: a broken tooth browned with blood. He is in the wheelchair by the window, in ten feet of cloudy morning light, staring with the flat eyes of a fish. Even when he is here, he is not here: he is a time traveler and his mind is the machine. Always in the past. Always in the future. Never now. Always later. Stop asking me. Stop bothering me! Get out of my sight. Get out! Get OUT! Get OUT! GET OUT! Show him you’re a real gamer. He always thinks about you last. His last thought is of you: one final effort. MOKUBA!

One night he tells you, rinsing his coffee mugs in the kitchen sink, that you were the last piece of his puzzle. But this is also the night before he leaves and he also tells you his puzzle is broken again, by the same man who broke it last time, and that same man somehow made it larger. He is not a puzzle but a chimera, cobbled together from several other creatures, snarling and wailing and scaled. Flinching as some long-buried instinct scrambles through nerves and muscle and bursts, at last, into the open air, breathless: I am so proud of you. He is everything, always.

#writing notes #fanfiction #prideshipping

[multi-lefaiye]

💬💬💬 and pen for eden!!!!!

yes thank u <3 heheeeee

okay so the first excerpt is gonna be from one of my flash fiction friday entries, a tftgs fic specifically:

For much of his life, Jack has felt like a used battery. He feels like an old, broken thing, low on energy and with very little left to give. He supposes it was only a matter of time before someone decided to throw him out.

and thiiis is from an older thing i wrote that i might go back to at some point?? not sure though. not gonna give context for now tho <3 (if you recognize the characters. don't look me in the eye rn i know this is self-indulgent):

“Did you just shoot someone!?” Saeyoung cried, still clearly panicking.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Addison replied, trying to drag him along as they tried to avoid looking in the direction they'd just fired. “Just get in the car, asshole!”

“Sorry, I kind of have a bullet in me right now!” he protested, but still did his best to get to his feet. “I told you to stay in the car!”

“Have your goddamn lovers’ quarrel later!” Vanderwood yelled at them over the sound of gunfire raining down on them all.

and theeen this is for another slightly older thing, but i like the comedy here :3

For a moment, Henry just stared at the unconscious man on his living room floor. Then he asked the question that was nagging at the back of his mind. “Why the fuck is he naked?”

AND a little Eden conversation!!! I'm gonna talk a bit about something I haven't talked about publicly in much detail: Eden's chronic pain and fatigue. I haven't talked about it in Great detail because I'm still trying to research n' such to make sure that my portrayal is as faithful and respectful as I can make it.

I won't go into how it's going to come into play story-wise in the campaign, nor the mechanics and accommodations and such planned for this, but I'll talk a bit about it! Under the cut though b/c this might be a bit long.

So Eden's mother, Hannah, dealt with chronic illness for most of her life. In the campaign, it's kind of an ambiguous illness because she wouldn't have had access to modern terminology (or even really a specific diagnosis in general, considering the healthcare available where she lived), but I think the closest to what she has would be fibromyalgia, which is what I'm focusing my research on for Eden.

(And also, if I do go ahead and write a standalone story/WIP with Eden outside of the campaign, this will be discussed and explored in greater detail since the focus would be on him specifically a bit more.)

The research I've done so far does say that fibromyalgia isn't always necessarily passed directly from parent to child, but I'm thinking it's still something that Eden has, and after his death and resurrection his symptoms start to flare up in a way they wouldn't have beforehand.

Like I said, I am still doing research into this because I want to give the most earnest, respectful portrayal I can, but I do still have some thoughts about Eden's personal experiences with it and how he processes it. Because Eden's thought process is my favorite thing to explore.

So Eden approaches everything in his life from a very analytical perspective, so once he registers that his symptoms aren't normal he immediately goes into analysis mode and tries to determine, to an incredibly exact degree, what his limits are. He's a scientist at heart, and his response to every situation is to experiment and learn everything he can.

This will have... mixed results for him. On one hand, over time, Eden will come to understand his condition very well, even without necessarily having access to a specific diagnosis in the campaign itself. On the other hand, it also means that Eden is going to push himself a TON and possibly seriously hurt himself trying to see how far he can go before he has issues.

I'm still looking into specific accommodations Eden could have as time goes on, but I'm definitely thinking mobility aids would be very useful for him--particularly forearm support crutches, if possible.

And last thing I do wanna say. While it might be easy to assume that, all things considered, Eden would be very against the idea of using mobility aids b/c he's just so stubborn.... that's not the case! Eden is a stubborn li'l asshole, but once he understands his limits better I do think he would want mobility aids and would actively seek them out.

Aaanyway okay I still have a lot of research n' such to be doing, but that's some of my thoughts so far!!! Thanks for coming to my ted talk

#talk to the bunnykitty #eden linnaeus #bat time all the time #oc ask game #ask game #i love thinking about eden so so much #he means so much to me #and also all of these snippets delight me <3

[storiesofsvu]

l&o thursdays

your regular ramblings and thoughts.

....and now i want pizza...

Happy Thursday fuckers, here we go

SHE STAYED THE NIGHT??? FUCK THIS SHIT (and im no even a bensler shipper. And yes I realize there’s other rooms she could have stayed in but still fuck this)

(sidebar, my OWN MOTHER just goddamn texted me “ack rollins in a wedding dress” m’am…that a SPOILER)

“no reason for me to stay” good, get out of here, I never trusted you.

 Ive had enough of this man child casino boy… are we done with this arc yet?

I stopped paying attention thanks to dealing with this stolen fic shit, sorry besties.

This family is more fucked up than the Wheatley’s, and at least the Wheatley’s had appeal to them, like I was constantly rooting for them, these guys are k-mart brand Wheatley’s

If they write Ayanna off the show I will LOSE MY SHIT. But then again she’s a queer, and she’s a poc, so it was only a matter of fucking time….

She IS the boss Elliot, get the stick out of your fucking ass. I swear if he ends up getting promoted and becoming the *actual* boss of OC I will hate it here….

Okay. I did not pay ANY attention to mothership, but I will say this: that blue dress Sam was in is *chefs kiss*

OKAY, time to pay attention!!

If it’s HIS birthday, why is he paying for drinks??

CONGRATS to carisi for being the ONLY person ive seen in media to pop a bottle of champagne without making it overflow. Thank fuck.

THANK YOU FOR NOT FOGETTING ABOUT ROLLINS FORENSCICS EDUCATION FOR ONCE.

Also… are we really gonna get Professor Rollins!?? Even if it *is* offscreen???

Every week I watch the opening credits and pray for the miracle of “Elizabeth Marvel” popping up on the screen and every week I am met with no luck. Maybe one day the day will come? I can only hope.

FOR ONE FUCKING SEASON COULD WE PLEASE STOP REUSING NAMES!!! ELIZABETH DONNELLY WAS A PROMINENT CHARACTER FOR 8? NINE?? SEASONS AND THEY’VE USED THE DONNELLY NAME TWICE IN THIS UNIVERSE WITH NO CONNECTION. COME ON GUYS

 Where TF is Velasco….i’d get rotating the cast like this IF IT WASN’T SO FUCKING TINY

Ah, “the Donnelly family is a bunch of criminals” so this Donnelly is related to the one from OC?? Or just lazy writing??

Olivia’s Big dick energy is really showing through this season and im here for it.

You know, considering DW wanted to kill amanda in the premier, we’re BLESSED to be getting so much of her, she could be the one missing/benched/only in one scene but she’s getting a lot of screen time…

Muncy “don’t look at me I didn’t do it!” lolololololol

The dad is super fucking annoying, like obvi these guys know what theyre doing

WE GET TO GO TO COURT OMG IT’S A DREAM COME TRUE

Okay but WHY isn’t he being charged with a hate crime??

The dad’s gonna shoot the perp/someone isn’t it? Like he’s a cop, he’d be able to take his gun into the court room….

Okay maybe he’s not, maybe he’s going to end up accepting his child’s identity

Jfc the stream keeps freezing every 10 seconds this commercial break has taken three times as long as normal, pls…there’s only 8 mins of my show left…

Yessss muncy’s on team pineapple on pizza!!! Fuck YES. Also she cannot sit like a straight… its confirmed, she’s queer.

LOLOLOLOL. THE OFFENDED LOOK ON HER FACE AT THE “in harlem, we don’t put fruit on our pizza”

For the record I’m with muncy on this one.

Okay… so…no proposal tonight and thanks to the promo for next  week we know the weddings a legit thing, not just a fake out that they “filmed” to not use… see y’all in two weeks!!

#law and order #law and order svu #law and order spoilers #law and order organized crime #rollisi

[paleclementine]

genuinely have no idea where I left off last time. Me and my dad did our trip to southern Utah to see the eclipse. There's so much to say about that whole weekend, but Ive been too exhausted to say anything about it other than a few bits and pieces, even Anthony, which truly does mean something. even if I'm actively angry and upset, I'll rant about my family to Anthony, but when I finally saw him, I was too exhausted to do anything but tell him how tiring it was and slip a single tear down my cheek.

I know i'll look back on this trip and likely be mad at myself for being so... conflicted/upset/on the verge of a mental breakdown throughout the whole thing, but it wasn't rose tinted. The trip was fun and good and me and my dad got along, but it was always good with a hint of waiting for the other shoe to drop. In a very tangible way. My dad talked to me a lot and was very morose-- about mom, hailey, caleb, his knee, life, death, god, religion, Mormonism. Every. Single. Thing. that I was afraid he would talk about? he talked about. I grinned and bore it, but Christ fucking fuck man, it's so hard. I think people give families too much credit-- they're fucking hard to deal with, or maybe mine is. I always feel weird when people value their families so much and get along with them and choose them over other things, because I just don't feel at at all-- nevermind the fact that I do choose them over other things because I am an easily manipulated forest animal.

I don't have enough energy to go through the play by play. I was with Anthony at Amy's house on Thursday and Monday. it was really nice thursday- me and Anthony got pho and went to the mall for a while. On Monday, I crashed there at 4:30 am and slept until 10. Me Anthony and Amy got burritos and went to Costco and got ice cream after that. It was really fun, me and Amy actually talked normally and I don't really know what compelled me to not feel like I wasn't collapsing in on myself with insecurity when I was around her. It has nothing to do with Amy, just that I'm intimidated by her. She's like an older, more mature version of Hailey.

I finally finsihed the new chapter of my fic (achilles come down) and posted it. I have motivation to work on it/finish it again, but I really coudln't say why. I just want it to have a ton of reads and get famous. I'm aiming for BARE MINIMUM 3,000, hoping for 14,000, and praying that I get over 50,000 hits. that would fr be a dream.

I have been listening to Folie a Deux a shit ton. It's such an underrated album. I've also been listening to Evermore a shit ton. IDk. I'm not feeling very -fall aesthetic the smiths autumn leaves the Sundays etc etc etc-. I just want to listen to what I like, and what I like rn is Taylor Swift, Fall Out Boy, Evanescence, and Mother Mother. Maybe I'm becoming emo again.

I'm skipping class rn bc I was late and I didn't want to go anyway,, and just-- god I cannot listen to people get a boner over how they're totally not racist/misogynistic (the class is all white people and women other than 2 boys). i just caaaaaan't. everything hurts.

I keep saying "I want to go home," in my head, but I really just think I want to not be so fucking stressed out. School is unbearable. I literally cannot keep up with my own shit even though I'm only taking 4 classes. It's just so goddamn hard. I'm entirely unmotivated. All I want to do is hang out with Anthony or write 1000 words at a time. Christ. I'm such a hermit. I have no idea how I turned out to be this way. Writing is such an isolating hobby (and writing fanfiction even more so, because there's a layer of exclusivity and cringe to it that I'm over in myself but not when it comes to sharing with other people).

I also just... don't want to see my fucking rommates. I think they're annoying and fuck and pick me's and bitches. and self fucking centered. They're just so deep in their own shit they can't see anyone else around them. I'm going to see Jimena again and she's going to be like "omg girl where have you been what the fuck is wrong with you?" OROR OR she's going to completely ignore my presence like she did when I left this weekend. she just-- fucking pisses me off.

I'm just not in a good fucking mood lately. I might be depressed. I don't even feel motivated to go into the canyon anymore.

#livejournal

[shirozora-draws]

I, the biggest fool to ever fool, really thought I could put a moratorium on doodling Mando things until I was this much closer to finishing this goddamn 50k+ monster of a fic. Except I felt very naked about not doodling anything because I apparently developed this brand new habit of doodling Mando things all the time and posting at least once a week. The loophole is, “Well you said you were gonna commit to 1 sketchy illustration per chapter so we might as well start sketching those out.”

So I did just that. Have two sketches for fic illustrations. Goddammit and dank farrik.

#shirozora draws #dinluke #star wars #the mandalorian #skydalorian #din djarin #grogu #luke skywalker #cobb vanth #BRAIN GOES BRRRR SKETCH #I love doing extremely late night sketch dumps #time has no meaning during the weekend #I got this idea to do a series of them sleeping in this cramped bed in a one-room house in Mos Pelgo they're borrowing #among other things like doodling uncle boba and auntie fennec #and also a battle scene involving remnant stormtroopers #illustrating my own goddamn fic lololol #where was this energy eVERY OTHER GODDAMN TIME I WAS WRITING FIC #okay time to squeeze in maybe an hour of ficcing before bedtime at 4 in the morning YOLO

[rhinestoneghost]

Live by the Sun, Love by the Moon | Doc Ock x Reader (18+) - Chapter 2

Thank you all SO much for the response to chapter 1!  Feels great to be writing again after so long. 😊  Still no not-sfw content yet this chapter, but it will begin VERY soon...you’ll see.

Chapters: 1) Final Inspections, 2) Long Night (here), 3) Oscorp Gala, 4) Enter Doc Ock, 5) Catch & Release (Part 1), 6) Catch & Release (Part 2)

Tag list: @busybeingtrash Please reply or message me if you want to be added!

Rated E - 3485 words (this chapter), 17,054 words (total, so far)

Content tags: P0rn with plot, slow burn, canon-typical violence

Reader is a cis girl

Check out this fic on AO3!

Summary: As a medical sciences graduate student working in Dr. Otto Octavius’s lab, you are responsible for assisting in the development and production of his self-proclaimed greatest creation yet: the actuators, complex mechanical arms that will assist humanity in ushering in a new era of nuclear renewable energy.  When Dr. Octavius’s fusion reaction ends in catastrophe, birthing the titular “Doc Ock,” you neglect your studies in order to more fully embrace your after-hours identity as an amateur vigilante.  After an attempt to apprehend your former lab coordinator yourself, you are forced to resolve your unspoken romantic and sexual feelings for Otto Octavius, as well as face the murky boundaries for what makes someone a hero or a villain. Doc Ock has extravagant plans to build a second bigger fusion reaction, and he’s recruited you into reprising your role as his lab assistant once more…

Chapter 2: Long Night

“Y/N, you made it!”  Rosie embraced you with open arms, excited that you found time in your packed schedule to show up to book club for the first time in weeks.  She ushered you toward the back of the bookstore to your usual seat, and you two caught up with each other’s lives while waiting for the rest of the group members to arrive.  Once everyone was present, Rosie called the meeting to order and initiated the evening’s discussion.

“Now that we’re all nearly finished with Jane Eyre, I wanted to hear your thoughts about the various symbolic elements used throughout the book!” Rosie began eagerly, clapping her hands.  “This novel’s rife with it.  I’m curious about what you all think will come of Jane and Rochester’s fate, given the hints Ms. Bronte has dropped for us so far.”

There came a myriad of equally enthusiastic replies, the participatory response of every literature instructor’s dreams.  Typically, you would be among the passionate contributing voices, but tonight your brain was lost in a maze of Oscorp’s design; namely, why you couldn’t figure out how to properly connect those goddamned actuators to Dr. Octavius���s higher brain centers.  The plans made complete sense on paper—the arms were at their core extremely advanced prostheses—so why could your team force the neurotransmitters in the peripheral nervous system to convert voluntary movement to transmittable electrical signals, but not translate the original impulse directly from the brain itself?

Over the next hour you truly tried to pay attention to the book club’s conversation, but for the most part you only caught snippets of something about a fortune teller, the weather patterns, and sketched portraits; you were determined to at least devote the entirety of your attention to the last few minutes of this session’s time.  Rosie closed out the group with what she believed to be the novel’s most compelling symbolic element.  “I can’t believe that none of you mentioned the chestnut tree!  Its role in the garden proposal scene was one of my favorite parts.  Any thoughts?”

You felt like you owed the group a response, so you spoke up first.  “Well, soon after Rochester proposes marriage to Jane, a nasty storm brings lightning that strikes the chestnut tree where the proposal occurred.  The tree catches fire and splits in two.”  Rosie nodded, prompting you to continue.  “I imagine this represents that Jane and Rochester will also be literally split from one another, likely by something dramatic and sudden, like the lightning bolt itself.”

“Yes, very good,” Rosie encouraged, “but keep in mind that the tree’s roots are still intact, even after it is struck and burned.  What do you think that could mean?”

You paused for a moment to think.  “That even after all the hardships Jane and Rochester endure that initially drive them apart, they are destined to…reunite, and maybe attempt to grow again, together?”

Rosie smiled like the answer had come from her own lips.  “Exactly.”

-----

“We’re home!” Rosie called from the entranceway, hanging her keys on the hook beside the door.  “And I’ve brought your favorite student with me!”  You felt your face redden instantly.  This was going to be a long night.

Dr. Octavius poked his head out from the kitchen, his hands full of cookware.  “Good timing!  Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”  Rosie placed a quick kiss on her husband’s lips before he slipped back toward the stove.  You found yourself looking away.

This wasn’t your first time in the Octavius’ home, as you and Rosie had made a habit of eating dinner together after book club meetings, but this time you felt acutely aware of the fact that this was Dr. Octavius’s private living space, and you felt incredibly out of place.  Attributing your discontent to lack of sleep, you resolved to perk up, refusing to mope around thinking about the actuators all day.

You followed Rosie to the dinner table and sat in a chair beside hers, continuing to discuss Jane Eyre until Dr. Octavius brought in all of your dinners on porcelain plates.  As he placed his wife’s meal down in front of her, he planted another kiss on the top of her head before launching into an anecdote about his day.

“Oh, Rosie, you’ll never guess who visited while you two were at book club.  Peter Parker.”

“Dr. Connors’s student?” Rosie questioned, confused.  “What was he doing here?”

“He’s writing a paper about my work for one of his physics classes.”  Dr. Octavius attempted to sound exasperated by the mere thought of his work being interrupted, but you could tell that he was proud that his ideas were already receiving recognition.  “I insisted that I was too busy, but Harry phoned it in as a favor.”

“Figures.”  Rosie rolled her eyes and dug into her meal.

Dr. Octavius took his seat and turned to you.  “Do you know him?”

“Harry Osborn?”

He snorted.  You were both much too familiar with Harry.  “Peter Parker.”

“Oh!  No, I’ve never met him.  We must be in different departments.  I handle more of the medical sciences side of research, and it sounds like Peter’s studying nuclear physics?”

“I believe so.”

“Speaking of which,” Rosie interjected, “how’s that going?  Medical school?”

You groaned.  “Getting there one degree at a time. I’m hoping to start applying in a few years, but I’m just trying to survive graduate school first.”

“Smart girl,” Dr. Octavius praised.  “It’s a godsend that Rosie met you in book club all those years ago.  Without her introduction, who knows how far behind we’d be on the actuators?”

“Oh, please,” you chuckled dismissively, shaking your head, but you averted your eyes away from his gaze to prevent your heart from pounding through your ribcage.  “You flatter me.  You would’ve figured out the neurobiological connections just fine without me.”

“Hmmm…maybe so,” Dr. Octavius teased, “but your and the other students’ help has certainly taken a load off my plate.”

You cleared your throat, embarrassed, but thankful for his words.  “Well, you’re very kind to say so.”

“I don’t give empty compliments,” he assured, then turned his attention back to Rosie.  “Anyway, I invited that Parker kid to come to the fusion demonstration next week.”

Rosie smiled, pleased that her husband’s near-religious fervor for scientific education outweighed his distaste for whatever distractions a third-party admirer might cause.  “That’s a wonderful idea!  I bet he’s thrilled.”

Dr. Octavius smiled back at her, happy that she approved of his invitation.  “Peter’s bright, but seems misguided and unfocused, based on Connors’s testimony.  I figured that witnessing a major scientific breakthrough might help reawaken his passion.”

The three of you spent the remainder of dinner primarily discussing book club, your studies, the latest news stories, and what television shows or movies you barely had time to watch, but the conversation inevitably looped back around to the fusion experiment and the actuators.  Since the fusion demonstration was next week, you couldn’t blame Dr. Octavius for it being at the forefront of his mind.

Once the scientific jargon was back on the table, Rosie stood up before Dr. Octavius could speak another word.  “How about I make us some tea?  And I better not hear any more science talk, Otto.”  She shook a finger at him, half joking, half serious.  “I don’t want you to scare Y/N off from coming over again.”

Once Rosie was outside the dining room and likely out of earshot, Dr. Octavius scooted his chair closer to yours so that he could speak more quietly.  “Sorry to talk shop outside the lab, but did you make any progress on fixing the neural connections this afternoon?”

Rosie’s head immediately poked back in from the kitchen, frowning disapprovingly.  “Otto, come on.  She’s off the clock.”  She knew how much time you devoted to her husband’s creations outside of laboratory hours.  By this point, the actuators were practically your baby, too.

“No, it’s alright!” you insisted.  “I actually did.  Well, I had an idea, at least.  I was gonna wait until tomorrow to talk to you about it, but I guess there’s no harm in discussing it now.”

Dr. Octavius’s expression grew even brighter as he sat up straight in his seat, leaning forward toward you with tangible enthusiasm.  “Go on.”

“Admittedly, it’s more of a workaround than a fix.  But what if instead of trying to route the actuators to your upper motor cortex, we were able to convert the neurotransmitter signals received from the cerebellum: the brain’s center for fine motor skills?”

“Of course…” Dr. Octavius marveled, “that way the arms would have a greater range of dexterity, while also decreasing the risk of—”

“—interference with higher brain functions,” you finished, nodding.  “Precisely what I was thinking.”

“My brilliant girl!” Dr. Octavius announced, extending a heavy hand to gift you a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.  “This is what will finally allow my own intuition to pilot the arms.  No need to bother with the complicated routes of the upper motor cortex.  The cerebellum should do just fine!”

Your face felt hot, and you were sure that you were shining bright red now.  Your stomach began to churn.  God, you hated when you felt like this.  You reminded yourself that you aren’t twelve years old.  Suck it up.

In order to appease his wife, Dr. Octavius shifted the focus of the conversation to something adjacent to his projects that did not involve science.  “Oh!  And Y/N, don’t forget about the Oscorp gala the night before the demonstration!  I know you students are all focused on the project deadline, but make some time for celebration too, alright?”

You couldn’t argue with that.  After years of hard work laboring over Dr. Octavius’s creations, you all earned a good old-fashioned party at Oscorp’s expense.  The gathering was mainly organized in order to put on a show for the company’s investors to make them feel like they contributed to something worthwhile.  You planned to jump on the opportunity to drink and dance with your research cohort all night, regardless.  

“For sure!” you assured him.  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.  Harry owes us for all the bureaucratic bullshit he’s put us through during this project.”

“Right?!”

Some time later, Rosie brought in a teapot to serve all three of you, and the remainder of the night was spent pleasantly in each other’s company as you all inaudibly read to yourselves.  You barreled through the final chapters of Jane Eyre to get ahead for the next book club meeting, Rosie read from her favorite collection of T.S. Eliot poems, and Dr. Octavius skimmed over the pages of The Daily Bugle.  While you were taking breaks from your book to unassumingly steal glances his way, you noticed the headline of one of the articles he was reading, “UMBRA YET TO STRIKE THIS NEW MOON,” and were reminded of the other commitment you needed to get to that night.

You politely excused yourself and started to say your goodbyes as Rosie and Dr. Octavius escorted you to their front door.  Your nausea still refused to subside in the wake of all of your supervisor’s praises from earlier in the evening.  Your stomach and head were both swimming—one with the dinner Dr. Octavius kindly prepared for all three of you, and the other with, regrettably, the overwhelming, ever-growing desire you felt for the man before you.  You gave Rosie a tight hug before stepping aside to look at Dr. Octavius who, after a brief awkward pause, opted to offer his hand to shake instead of an embrace.

“Thank you both again for your hospitality.  I had a wonderful time!”

“It’s our pleasure,” the couple said in unison.

You felt your stomach lurch again as your eyes met Dr. Octavius’s, who gave you a warm smile in return.  Your constitution was waning as you turned to face Rosie.  “May I use your bathroom before I leave?  Long trip home.”

“Of course!”  Rosie pointed you in the direction of their bedroom.  “Our bathroom is attached.”

“Thank you!”  You darted inside as quickly as you could without looking desperate, and let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding as soon as the door was closed behind you.

You scanned their bedroom.  It was pristine, similar to the state that Dr. Octavius liked to keep his lab.  There wasn’t a hint of dust on any surface, every object had a place, and the bed’s sheets appeared as finely pressed as the day they bought them.  One of the bedside tables, which clearly belonged to Rosie, had every square inch covered with varied volumes of poetry and novels.  The other bedside table was barren aside for a pair of reading glasses set atop a single nuclear physics textbook, its edges dotted with page markers.

Although your location was obvious, it suddenly dawned on you that this was his bedroom.  Dr. Octavius’s bedroom.  Being caught in his most private space wasn’t going to help your nausea at all.  You knew that you shouldn’t linger, but the sight of the bed ignited an urge in you that you just had to fulfill.  You plunged your face into Dr. Octavius’s pillow and breathed deeply.

As you inhaled his scent, you imagined one of his strong hands tangled in your hair from behind, pushing your face deeper into the pillow as his other hand traced up your thigh to rest on your breast, eventually finding its way down toward your—

For the love of God, what’s wrong with me?

You cut this fantasy off short and marched off toward the bathroom, ashamed of yourself.  Even though you had a habit of shrugging off these feelings, you weren’t stupid.  You knew good and well what this was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to name it.  You reassured yourself that your attraction to Dr. Octavius would fade with time.  After all, he was happily married.

-----

To save yourself some time, you packed your change of clothes in the backpack you brought to book club and the Octavius’ apartment.  You figured that it would be quicker to change in your hosts’ bathroom and then slip out through its window down the fire escape, rather than waste what little of the night you had left traveling back to your apartment to gather your things.  You zipped into the bodysuit first, a shade of blue so dark that it could almost be mistaken for black.  Your full head covering bore the same color, but was adorned with two large rhinestones that covered your eyes.  The lower halves of these rhinestones were made of mirrors that greatly magnified your field of vision, significantly improving your target accuracy when aiming with one eye closed.  On top of your head, you wore a wide-brimmed black hat with an attached dark veil that even further occluded your already-covered face.  Finally, you tied the floor-length cape around your neck, another dark shroud deployed to safeguard your identity.

You pulled the pieces of your dart gun out of your backpack and assembled them together with ease, slinging the sleek finished product over the shoulder hidden under your cape.  After rummaging through your backpack for a few seconds, you found the vial of diazepam that you took from the lab earlier that day.  You carefully pre-filled a few darts with the diazepam, then placed them carefully into a small pack that you buckled around your hips.  After lacing up your knee-high boots, you tossed the backpack around your shoulders to join the large dart gun underneath your cape.  You may not have superpowers or the astonishing wealth necessary to buy the equivalent, but you did have mostly inconspicuous access to pharmaceuticals and enough sewing knowledge to throw together a decent vigilante suit.

After taking one last glance around the bathroom to make sure that you had collected all your things, you opened the window to climb onto the fire escape below.  Hoping that Dr. Octavius and Rosie would think that you quietly left through their front door unnoticed, you followed the steps of the fire escape to their lowest point before dropping cautiously to the pavement and slinking through dark alleyways to get to your destination.

You looked to the sky – no moon.  Perfect, you still had time to act.  Even though New York City was lit up from head to toe at night, you still wanted to avoid any extra light that the moon may provide, and therefore preferred to do your vigilante work when the moon is new.  The newspapers were clever when they gave you the name “Umbra,” a faceless phantom that hid in the moon’s shadow.

But you didn’t choose to become a vigilante because you sought any sort of notoriety.  Much the opposite, actually.  You took several measures to avoid identification: working at night in the darkest environment possible, wearing clothes that obscured your face and body, and abiding by a code of silence the moment your suit was donned.  Aside from the fact that the field interested you, you entered the world of medicine because, put simply, you wanted to help people, and in the hectic world of heroes versus villains, you noticed additional opportunities to aid humanity by bringing down wanted criminals that had consistently avoided capture.  The work was slow, but your solo quiet persistence occasionally paid off in the form of a sly adversary finally being brought under the scrutiny of the law.

After what felt like a lifetime of creeping around the bowels of the city, you finally made it to your destination: an abandoned apartment complex with a decent view of the alleyway across the street.  Within the next few minutes, your target should arrive: a formerly low-profile villain who gained notoriety earlier in the year after being part of a criminal group that killed one of New York City’s more popular superheroes.  You had been staking out this guy for months, tracking his nightly habits down to a T until you were sure that you could predict his whereabouts.  Now that the new moon had cycled around again, you felt confident enough to attempt to bring him down tonight.  You loaded a diazepam dart into the gun’s chamber and fixed your body in position to shoot, waiting in stillness until the time was right.

As expected, within fifteen minutes your target emerged from the buildings’ shadows across the street. He leaned against the side of one of the derelict high-rises, checking his watch.  His entrance would soon be followed by a car that would pick him up to drive him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, likely where other villains were meeting to plan God-knows-what.  But the rest of them weren’t your goal tonight – he was.  And in case this guy’s lackeys were close enough to him that they would go after you for attacking him, you had to be quick and pull the trigger before the car arrived.

You raised your veil and closed one eye so that you could focus your vision through the magnifying glass occupying the bottom of your rhinestone eyepieces.  Your target’s silhouette was much clearer now.  Your gun’s barrel was locked on his outer thigh, a muscle where the drug’s absorption would be quickest.  Satisfied, you relaxed and steadied your aim, holding your breath.  You pulled the trigger, and the dart shot through the air without a sound, piercing his thigh as desired.

The villain let out a surprised yelp, then silenced himself to avoid drawing any unwanted attention.  He fell to his knees, muscles rapidly becoming limp, but obviously still fighting unconsciousness as his chest heaved to take in more oxygen.  Confident that the dart was effective, you took off down the stairs of your abandoned hideout and ran out the back door, looping through a maze of uninhabited streets until you found a payphone in working order.

You swore not to speak while assuming your vigilante persona, but you made one exception: for making emergency calls after targets were brought down.  You hesitated to use your normal speaking voice, so you always tried to switch it up by talking in lower or higher pitches, different accents or cadences, whatever alterations you could think of.  You weren’t sure how effective all that truly was at preventing your voice from being identified, but you decided it couldn’t hurt.  And you always made sure to use as few words as possible.  You called 911, gave the address of where your target dropped, and hung up the phone.  Then you high-tailed it out of there and called it a night.

There were only a few more hours left until you had to wake up to start your morning work at Dr. Octavius’s lab.  Looks like it was going to take several energy drinks and shots of espresso to try to avoid another unexpected laboratory blacktop nap.

#doc ock #otto octavius #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #spiderman #dana writing

[hangovercurse]

Last Night ii// Better Sober

After a show, you and Kells finally get around to the things you wanted to do sober.

Request: “I loved the new fic ‘Last Night’, any chance you’d write a second part where they sleep together sober-ish? If so could you write reader on top riding kells in it?””I just read “last night” (colson) and now I need a smut of their first time after the hangover omg pls 🥺”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing

A/N: Sorry this took so long *_*

Word Count: 2577

part i

Slim and Baze were never going to let you live this down. Once you and Colson had finally built up the strength to stand up, you quickly packed the rest of your things and got on your band’s bus, ignoring the snickers coming from the older men.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us, Y/N? Keep the party going?” Slim asked, jokingly. You sent them a glare as you handed your suitcase to your bus manager, who was in the process of loading everything onto the bus.

“I will end both of you.” You grumbled, walking towards the stairs to board your bus.

Baze laughed, “we’re only joking. We all knew it’d happen eventually.” His dramatic smile combined with your pounding headache and nausea made for a very annoyed Y/N.

“I will say this once, and then never again. Either of you bring this shit up again, I’ll kill you.” You jabbed two fingers towards them. “Now I’m going to take a nap in my bed, on my bus.”

You walked up the stairs, your bandmates giving you puzzled looks as Slim called “love you too, kid!” You threw yourself into your bunk, not even bothering an explanation to your bandmates, the only thing on your mind was sleep.

Not 2 minutes after you’d closed the curtain to shield you from the outside world did it open again. You were laying on your side, back to the curtain to be as comfortable as possible. When the light from the hallway flooded into your bunk, you pretended to be asleep, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

You had no such luck, as seconds later the mystery person was climbing into your bunk, lying beside you. Curious, you turned to see who it was, though you could make an assumption. Finding the sleepy face of none other than Colson Baker, you smiled, turning to lay facing him.

“Your bus is quieter than mine.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you closer to him. “And I like sleeping with you better than sleeping alone.”

You shifted so that he could lay further away from the edge, resting your head on his shoulder, and laying an arm across his stomach. “I don’t mind.” You whispered, eyes closing slowly, “But as soon as we leave this bunk, we’re gonna have a million questions.”

Colson shrugged sleepily, moving your head with his motion. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “eh, fuck em” but you were already slipping away from consciousness.

The show you played that next night was arguably one of your best, probably due to the fact that Colson was watching you from the side of the stage the entire time. You tried to keep yourself from glancing over at him every few minutes, but between the adrenaline from the show, the smirk on his face, and the fact that you were wearing his shirt made that impossible.

You were sure fans would notice the familiar “Lace Up” shirt, but Colson claimed he “didn’t give a fuck” and he wanted to watch you play while wearing his clothes. You had no problem with it, enjoying the fact that he wanted everyone to know that you were his.

Once your set had finished and you’d thanked the audience, you ran off stage, your concert high rushing through your veins. Colson was getting ready to go on stage, so you figured you’d let him be until after the show.

As you and your drummer walked towards the greenroom, bouncing off each other’s energies, you were snatched away by a set of tattooed hands. “I’m borrowing her for a second.”

You giggled as Colson pulled you behind a cluster of cases, lips finding yours immediately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling you up closer to him. “God you are so fuckin’ hot” he mumbled against your lips.

“Don’t you have a show to go do?” You asked, a smirk on your lips.

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again. “You’re gonna watch, right?”

You chuckle lightly, “of course I’m watching. I was gonna go freshen up a little bit because I am soaked in sweat though.” As you spoke his lips travelled to your jawline, kissing up towards your ear. “You’re gonna be late if you don’t stop.” You told him, leaning your head to give him better access to your skin.

“We’ll finish this later.” Though the words came out in a whisper, there was clear dominance in his voice, making you smirk slyly. He moved away from you, hands lingering on your waist. “Keep that shirt on” he mouthed to you as he joined his band, putting his ears in.

You gave him a thumbs up, walking towards your dressing room to clean up as much as possible. The shirt you were wearing was drenched in sweat, but Kells had demanded you keep it on, much to your dismay.

Every time Colson looked side stage, you were standing there, watching him perform. You couldn’t see it, but the hungry look in your eyes had more of an effect on him than playing the set did. All he was thinking about anytime he found your eyes was dragging you to the hotel and fucking the life out of you.

And that’s pretty much the situation you found yourselves in, making out in the backseat of an uber on your way to the hotel. You barely made it through the lobby and into the elevator without his lips on yours, almost too intoxicated by them to care.

When you finally did get to the hotel room, Colson’s lips latched onto yours, pressing you up against the door. You moaned lightly as his teeth grazed over your bottom lip, the sound bringing a smirk to his face.

“Every time I looked over and saw you watching me, all I could think about was fucking you in this goddamn shirt.” When he spoke, his voice came out dark and dangerous, sending chills through your body. His hands moved underneath the shirt you were wearing, cupping your boobs as he reattached your lips.

You gasped as his cold hands made contact with your nipples, massaging them gently. “No bra?” He asked against your mouth, smirking.

“Figured it would make this a little easier.” You said before kissing him again. He hummed approval and continued to fondle your tits. The hands you had placed around his neck pulled lightly at the hair near his neck from pleasure.

His hands moved down your waist until they reached your ass, squeezing the skin through your shorts. He pulled you towards the bed, lips still locked on yours. Taking some initiative, you pushed him down onto the bed, pulling your shorts down to expose your underwear.

Colson threw his shirt off, exposing his infamous tattooed torso. You reached for the hem of the shirt you were wearing, but Colson stopped you. “Keep it on. I wanna think about this every time I see that fucking shirt.”

You let out a slight laugh, “the fucking shirt.” Colson rolled his eyes, pulling you by the elastic of your panties towards him. His hands went to your thighs, pulling them so that you were sitting on his lap, one knee on either side of his torso.

“You’re really lame, you know that?” He asked as you rested your arms on his shoulders. You bit your lip and nodded, pressing your hips further into his lap. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs and to your waist, pausing briefly to squeeze your ass. “It’s kinda hot though.” He mumbled, guiding your hips to roll onto his.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a needy, passionate kiss. You continued to grind against his clothed hips, hands moving to run up and down his abdomen, taking in the muscle under your fingers.

Colson finally got impatient and pulled away from your kiss, gently moving you off of him and standing up. You gave him a confused frown, wondering if you’d done something wrong. Your silent question was answered when he pulled down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers.

The outline of his length through the thin material almost had you drooling. The wetness that had been between your legs since you’d put on his shirt made a reappearance. He turned around and shuffled through his bag, pulling out a foil packet and tossing it on the bedside drawers. “So we don’t forget.” He smiled, hands moving around your waist. His lips met yours briefly, but you had decided you wanted something else. You pulled away, pressing kisses to his jaw instead, travelling down to his neck.

The man chuckled as you took control, your lips finding their way to his collarbone and sucking on the skin between his tattoos, hoping to leave a mark. You continued your trek down his body, stopping just above his waistband to lick the three red X’s that lay on his skin. He threw his head back, “you are going to be the death of me.”

You looked up at him with a hum of agreement, your fingers grasping the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down to expose his hard member. He took in a sharp breath as you lightly stroked his length with your fingertips. Your tongue slipped out from between your teeth to lightly lick his tip, swirling around it. Colson’s grasped your hair, forcing you to look up to him, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

His voice was forceful, demanding. You obeyed willingly, wrapping your lips around his shaft, sucking gently. You heard the man let out a quiet moan of pleasure, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. What you couldn’t fit you jerked with your hand, Colson’s hand wrapping tighter into your hair as you did so.

You picked up your pace, eyes flicking up to take in his look of pleasure every so often. His moans were a music to your ears, the thrusts of his hips a work of art. “You feel so good, baby,” his husky voice flooded the room, “touch yourself for me.”

Using the hand that wasn’t pumping his cock to trail down to your panties, you moved them to the side and swiped across your slit. You hummed around his member, his hips jerking into you. “I bet you’re fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You hummed again in agreement, one finger dipping into your heat, slowly spreading yourself out. Colson yanked your head back, making you look up at him again. “Use your words.”

“So wet for you.” You moaned, adding a second finger into yourself. Colson smirked at your confession, guiding your lips back onto his cock. Your pumps got faster, as did your sucking. The hand on your head pushed you further onto his length, speeding up your pace.

When you felt yourself nearing your release, Colson pulled your head off his member, cradling your face in his hands. He pulled you up lightly, your fingers removing themselves from you. He took your hand and guided it to his lips, sucking your juices off your fingers.

You reached over to the table, grabbing the condom. Your hands moved up Colson’s chest, exploring the skin. He leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, hands grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. You let him pull your underwear down your legs and took advantage of his momentary distraction.

As soon as he stood back up, you turned the two of you around, pushing him down onto the bed. “Oh hell no.” He said, sitting up to try and pull you onto the bed with him.

You gave him puppy dog eyes, toying with the condom wrapper in your hand. “What’s wrong, intimidated by a girl being on top?”

He chuckled, “you think you’re so tough, huh?” You nodded, moving to kneel at the foot of the bed, crawling up his body. “Don’t complain when you get tired.” He leaned back, arms resting behind his head to show he wasn’t going to help you.

“I think you’re scared of not being in control.” You whispered, landing in the position you had been working towards.

Colson scoffed, “I can still be in control from here.” You raised an eyebrow at him, hand reaching out to stroke his length. He tried to bite down his groans, but you knew they were there.

You rolled the condom onto his member, taking in the sight of him below you. “You were saying?” You shifted so that your body hovered above him, lining him up to your entrance. Slowly, you sank down onto him, both of you letting out synchronous moans of pleasure.

His hands moved to your thighs, rubbing up and down the skin. You allowed yourself to adjust before pushing yourself up with your knees and then sinking back down onto his cock. His grip tightened as you moved, trying not to guide you.

You sprawled your hands on his chest, watching his expression as you rode him. You swiveled your hips every once in a while, just to hear his moans. “Fuck.” He growled when you began to move faster, his length filling you up.

Colson’s grasp on your thighs began to lead you up and down, his hips thrusting to meet yours. He was right about one thing; he could still be in control from underneath you. You let out a whine every time he hit the right spot inside of you, your sounds filling the room.

“Fuck baby, you look so good,” he moaned out, looking up to you with your head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure. “Getting fucked in my T-shirt. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You smirked at his words, “I’m all yours,” you whined out, the movement of your hips getting sloppier. One of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves. “Ah, fuck.” You moaned, hips bucking onto his further.

After a few more pumps you were at the edge of bliss, so close to falling off. You could tell Colson was close, his thrusts getting sloppy and his tip twitching inside of you. “You gonna cum, baby?” He whispered; eyes shut in pleasure. You hummed out a response, too indulged in the pleasure that you were so close to.

“Mm, cum around my cock, baby.” His fingers on your clit picked up pace, sending you diving over the cliff and into a pool of euphoria. Electricity spread through your body as your high washed over you. Colson continued thrusting into you, his orgasm following yours. You rode them out together, breaths heavy.

Once his thrusts slowed to a stop you lifted yourself off of his member and fell down beside him. He turned onto his side, eyes wandering your body. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was breathy and tired, but one of the best sounds you’d ever hear.

You looked up to him, a small smile playing on your face. “Shut up.” You giggled, pushing him back down onto his back. He chuckled, standing up to dispose of the condom before climbing back onto the bed next to you, this time pulling you into his arms. His back leaned against the headboard, arm wrapped around you, with your head laying on his chest.

“Better sober?” You asked with a small chuckle.

“Better sober.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #mgk x reader #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Power recognizes power

A little power training gwynriel fic that came from me writing “if you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.” and I was like this sentence deserves to be the title of something. plus throw everything (and by everything I mean that one sentence in the book) that you know about lightsingers away I’m just using the cute name. and yk there may or may not be some smut at the end. 

She was glowing.

She was glowing and Azriel did not mean she looked radiant or that she was overcome with joy, although she did and she was. Gwyneth Berdara was a living, breathing star. As if the spring equinox had come early this year.

Her skin lit up against the blackness of the sky and her hair burned bright with the ferocity of the hearth.

Gwyneth Berdara had stopped singing, the crowd was silent.  All eyes were on her but she was looking at him, her light, a beacon to his darkness.

His shadows yearned to go to her, he yearned to go to her. Instead, they both stayed stagnant, watching, waiting.

Azriel was had had enough, he dissolved from view and reappeared on the stage. Startled, Gwyn, took a step back and he stayed right with her, matching her step for step.

He gently tucked a stray piece of lit-up auburn hair behind her here, whispering, “It appears you glow, my love.”  

Gwyn, ultimately getting over her initial shock lightly pushed him on the shoulder, “Don’t do that.” She scowled.

Chuckling, he pressed his mouth to hers, in a soft, soothing kiss, forgetful of the audience behind them. As she relaxed beneath his touch, the glow became dimmer and dimmer until it ceased to be. Darkness returned and he stepped back. Gwyn took a breath and stilled. The nervous, passionate energy, that arouse when she sang, calmed for now.

Azriel turned to the crowd, “Due to the events that occurred here tonight, the performance will have to be cut short.” A soft boo drew his attention and immediately he isolated the noise. “Do you want to boo my mate again?” Azriel threatened coolly, his eyes narrowing.

Annoyed, she sighed and spoke to the crowd, “Oh ignore him, I truly am sorry for this interruption but I want to give nothing more than my best and right now I feel as if I can’t do that. the show will be rescheduled sometime next month, letters will be sent out with more information.”

He watched as the stunned and irritated faces slowly began disappearing. Some winnowing away, others taking the slightly more traditional door. Gwyn held her hand out to him. He took it, “So you’re a living lamp?”

“An astute observation.”  

“Is there any way I can convince you to rest now and figure this out later?”

She sighed, “It has been an especially long night.”

Azriel stared at her in disbelief, “did you just agree that you should rest?”

“Oh close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” He responded by grinning at her and winnowing them away to their shared home.

Taking off his shirt he yawned not realizing how tired he actually was. It was still strange to him, being able to sleep so freely, without the looming fear of the past and what he couldn’t control. He stopped, realizing Gwyn had not moved from the door.

Gently he asked, “Are you coming?”

She looked at him blankly, lost in thought for a moment before she responded, “Um-yeah-later.” He was unconvinced so she tried again. “I think I’m going to stay out here and make some tea, maybe read a book.”

Azriel gave her a knowing look but did not push, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Az.” He tenderly kissed her cheek and walked to their room, immediately passing out on the bed.

—————————————————–

Azriel awoke at dawn and turned, unsurprisingly, to find the left side of the bed cold and empty. He sighed as he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants, mumbling. “Gwyneth berdara, you are going to be the death of me.”

Knowing there was no way she would be in the house but believing he probably should, he checked regardless and when he determined that she was in fact not in the house, he closed his eyes. When he opened them once again he found himself at the house of wind.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Clotho,”

Shadowsinger. “The one and only.”

Is there something you require? “Just looking for that mate of mine. Any chance she’s here”

You know she is, and you know precisely where to find her. Ask what you truly want to ask. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “How long has she been here?”

Since 11 pm. Exhaling, he muttered, “Why can’t that damn woman ever rest.”

Over excursion out of only stubborn will seems to be a similarity between the two of you. Azriel frowned slightly before smiling pleasantly, “It’s been a pleasure as always, thank you for your help.”

Clotho only nodded and Azriel began the stairs to the 7th floor.

It took a moment for him to find her, the shadowsinger was a trained spy, forced to observe and retain even the smallest of details, yet he couldn’t find a bubbly redhead in a room full of texts and stories.

Ah, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of books. She was drowning in literature, her hair was tied loosely in a braid with quite a few pieces falling out, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she was sporting the slightly insane look that came from a lack of sleep.

“Gwyn.” Her head jerked up in surprise to see him.

“Oh Az, Ok Ok, I promise I will go to sleep soon I just need 5 more minutes. I’m so so so close. I think I’m going to skip training today. Ok how about 2 minutes. 10. No that’s more. 10 sets of 1 minute. I just need 10 sets of 1 minute. I’m fine how are you?”

“Gwyn, my love, you’re delirious.”

She brushed him off, “What no I’m fine. I’m fine. Did I already say that? I can’t remember.”

Logic was never the way to deal with her insane stubbornness, so he tried a different approach. He pushed down his worry for her, and curled his mouth into a smirk, “I bet,” She perked up like a dog about to be fed, “that you can’t summarize everything you learned last night into,” he checked the clock. “15 minutes.”

“I could do it in 10.”

“Prove it.”

“And when I win?”

“I leave you to research. But if you can’t you have to go to bed.”

“Time starts now.”

Gwyn took a deep breath and began. “First I looked into where light magic is supposed to originate: the day court. Their magic is described as warm and comforting. Every single text I read described the magic the same way, as a sort of yellowish-brown light, like the sun. But the magic that came from me was more of an icy blinding light, like the lights from the stars rather than the sun. Also, as far as I know, I don’t have family from the day court so I looked into the family I do have. My family from the autumn court. However, we know that autumn court magic is fire, and what manifested in me was light not heat. My grandmother was a nymph so I thought well what type of magic do nymphs have. And the answer was severely disappointing, with basic plant magic being the most a nymph was able to do. I was stumped for a few hours before I realized. I’m basing my research on what I believe to be true not what I know to be true. I was told that I am a quarter nymph and because that heritage would explain my non-high fae-like features I believed that, for there was no reason for me not to. But what if my nymph grandmother was not a nymph at all. I flipped through dozens of books on faeries that have similar features, light magic, and/or can live on land and water. For the most part, I could not find anything, but then out of the corner of my eye I found a small tome on the history of light magic, the majority being all things I’d seen a million times before on the day court, but a passage no more than a page long, referenced ‘the lightsinger.’ Now what is a Lightsinger, you may ask? Honestly, I had no idea what or who they were so I found every book and story I could on them. The lightsinger’s, instead of being a title for a way to manipulate magic, like shadowsingers or daemati, were a race. A long-lost fae race said to be able to bend and create light with their voices and song. It’s said that they died out due to a conflict with the shadowsingers but every so often there are sightings of unknown nymph-like creatures in you’ll never believe where. The autumn court. Now I would only have 25% of lightsinger blood but magic is a fickle thing and some sources believe that when bred with high fae blood the magic intensifies.” Gwyn exhaled.

Azriel grinned victoriously, “It’s been 20 minutes.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t even get to the interactions between shadowsingers and lightsingers.”

Now he was intrigued. “Well if you want to continue I certainly won’t stop you.”

“No no,” she yawned, “I lost which means I will be going to bed. But I do want to alter our deal slightly.”

“Oh?”

“I sleep now, you train me tomorrow.” The set of her chin and the look in her eye were enough to assure him of how serious she was.

“You want a male who specializes in darkness to help you master your light?”

“Certain theories believe that the mother gifted the light and shadowsingers their gifts to balance each other out and to remain harmonious.” She reasoned. “So yes there is no one I would want more to teach me.”

“I will not take it easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright Berdara, we meet Sunday at dawn, do not be late.”

“I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Sunday arrived and Azriel watched as Gwyn came down to the training ring in her leathers, with a white ribbon tied in her hair.

“Good morning Gwyneth.”

“So formal.” He shot her a look. “Oh alright ok my turn. Good morning Azriel, shadowsinger, spymaster of the night court, mate of the most amazing female to grace this planet.”

“Training is serious.”

“Of course it is. Shall we begin?”

“I want you to light up the room.”

“What? is it not already lit?”

He smirked and let his shadows paint the room black. Azriel himself became smoke, nothing more than a voice in the darkness.

“Az, az come on this is not funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” His voice came from every direction and every way Gwyn turned she was surrounded by endless nothing. “You must learn to sing the song of light the way I learned the language of shadow.”

“Speaking in vague melodrama feels like it’s not going to be that effective.”

Gwyn tried to back up only to find what was once the training ring now bled together with the depth of the sky.

“Let the light speak to you. Coax it, nurture it. Burn through the darkness and find the light.”

“How am I supposed to do that.”

Gwyn thought of the way Nesta harnessed her silver fire, the way her eyes became the flame itself. She concentrated and searched deep within herself, searching and looking for the light she knew she possessed.

All she saw was a hallowed chamber.

“No.” The word echoed throughout the room. “Our magic is not like others, we do not create out of nothing, we manipulate what is already there.”

“How am I supposed to manipulate if I’m in a room with no light?” Gwyn huffed frustrated.

“Just because the shadows are masking it, does not mean it is not there.”

He was so damn infuriating. She tried calling the light to her, she flexed her hands, she even tried speaking to it, all to no avail.

“As you said, magic is fickle and our elements especially. Light and darkness do not want to be bound or controlled, let the light be a friend, a companion, let it want to help, let it want to be influenced by your will.”

But how the fuck was she supposed to do that.

“Think of the first time it came to your call.” He whispered ominously. “What were you thinking. What were you feeling? Power often manifests through emotion.”

Singing. She had been singing. Was it really so easy that all she had to do was sing?

Turns out it wasn’t.

For hours she sang hundreds of songs. From songs in the old fae language that she sang at the priestess services to ones she had written herself. Nothing worked. Azriel had let her have a singular break when she desperately needed to pee and even then he was skeptical.  

He had left her to her own devices leaving his shadows to watch over her progress. When he returned he found Gwyn clutching her knees, rocking in the shadows. Her gaze was unfocused and she was humming to herself.

“You have officially broken me. I’m done.” She wanted nothing more than to sit in the library with her sisters and a book.

“No.”

Gwyn’s eyes snapped into focus, her breathing steadied, and she went predatorily still. “Excuse me.”

“You heard me. No.” Azriel laughed, a cold vicious laugh. “You asked me to train you. Gwyneth Berdara has never quit before and she certainly won’t start now.”

Gwyn was seething, but she remained quiet. “What?” He was toying with her. “A little darkness too much for you. Light up the room and we won’t have a problem.”

“Oh that’s right you can’t. 10 hours in and no light in sight. You’re pathetic.”

Her anger cleared her mind and in that moment of clarity a memory, buried deep within her, resurfaced as if it was resting, snoozing until its moment of need.

Gwyn was in her mother's lap, a black-haired girl sat across from her. Her voice pulled her attention. “My girls, Catrin,” She tickled her, resulting in a giggle from her lost sister, before she turned her head, “Gwyneth.” And also tickled her. Gwyn's small hands clutched at their mother, desperately trying to hold on. “My two beautiful daughters.” She sighed. “Your lives will be filled with so much darkness, darkness that you do not deserve. But I need you two to be strong, to stay with each other, and to find strength in the other.” ‘I don’t get it,” Gwyn whined.

“We are a part of a glorious and lost people, a people of light and song. But they fear us because they do not understand us.”

Gwyn and Catrin looked up at her, confused and innocent.

“It’s ok, you will. You know the song I sing to you every night before you go to sleep?” Gwyn and Catrin cheered, “Yeah.”  

“I want you to sing it with me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Can you do that for me?”

Their voices came together in a melodic lullaby. It was captivating and cold, those who heard could not look away. The song demanded to be heard, to be sung.

The words came tumbling out of Gwyn, they twisted around her tongue and lips as if finally home. Lost but not forgotten. Lost but born anew. Through the shadow and darkness, her eyes found the light, it heard her call and from every direction it found her. She pulled the brilliance of the stars to her and let the light paint the dark white.

The shadows retreated to Azriel who stood just two feet in front of her. Their eyes locked and he smiled, “there she is.”

The light flowed and flowed, and the room lit up in a blaze of pearlescent radiance. Her pale skin lit and she had once again become one with the stars.

But while the call came from her, there was another that drew her light forward. His shadows and her light curiously answered the pull. Finding each other between Azriel and Gwyn. One did not dissolve into the other like it should but instead mingled, swirling around each other in an almost playful manner. They became one from two opposites that never should have met.

As they blended together she felt a pounding in her chest and a throbbing somewhere lower. Her toes curled and she craved more. Their power was its own entity and yet connected to them. A push and pull, a desire to be close.

Azriel bridged the gap between them breathing heavily, pulling her against him as he’d never felt her before. “Az.” she gasped.

His eyes were on her lips as he licked his own, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so alive.”

“You’re the worst,” She said between breaths.

“I know.” And their lips met in a furious burst of passion.

He kissed her with a fiery hunger, a male starving. Her hands weaved through his hair, her fingers getting lost in the darkness. Gwyn wanted nothing more then to be lost in his darkness, as he wanted to drown in her light. Azriel gripped her waist, grinding his hardness into her causing her to moan.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.” He chuckled, ripping her shirt off.

“Fuck me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Gladly.” Their clothes were gone moments later. His kisses moved down her neck as he sucked and his fingers dipped to her cunt as he felt her. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock, “Always so hard for me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” He laid her down in the middle of the training ring and stroked his cock up and down her folds, pressing against her clit. “oh my god-fuck.”

With that, his control snapped and he buried himself to the hilt in her. Stroking once, twice.

He smirked, crooning, “look how perfectly we fit.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, edging her on, basking in the feel of him in her, of her around him.

He then went harder, hitting her in the right spot every time, but Gwyn needed more.

“Faster.”  

“Your wish is my command.” Azriel fucked her hard and fast, and with every thrust she moaned in ecstasy, driving her hips forward, meeting him step for step.

“Oh my god fuck me.”

“Such a good girl, taking it so well.” He captured a moan on her lips, devouring her.

“yes, yes fuck.”

Where the light met the dark, was where Gwyn met Azriel. They were cocooned in a shell of power flowing between and all around them. They were a storm of blinding light and depthless shadow, the lines of what were and were not, blurred to just the other.

“Gwyn.” He groaned, nothing existed but them.

“Az I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, my love, cum for me.”

Every thrust became sporadic and uncontrolled as if his pleasure had taken a mind of its own. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and ground her clit with his fingers.

It was all too much, Gwyn cried out as she came, her back arching, toes curling. Her cunt tightened around his cock as he fucked her past completion. She was everything and watching her cum was enough to send him over the edge as he emptied himself in her, collapsing on the ground next to her.

For a moment they were silent before Gwyn spoke, “would you like to hear what I learned about the interactions between Lightsinger’s and Shadowsinger’s” She smirked, “Apparently the sex is unlike even mate sex.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Gwyn laughed, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #one shot #gwynriel one shot #smut #Gwynriel fanfiction

[booksweet]

Could I request a Gojo fic/drabble/whatever based around Halsey’s song Colors?? I feel like it fits Gojo perfectly. Angsty. Fluffy. Whatever you’re feeling.

Hollow Purple

starring: sorcerer!Gojo x human!reader

synopsis: there was happiness when blue and red met, but they didn't know grey would claim their place in between them.

contents/warnings: ANGST, SFW, slightly mention of blood, trauma, violence (if I miss something, please warn me), both reader and Gojo are 18+

WC: + 2k

A/N: hello, anon! I swear to god I tried to make it a fluff, but I coulnd't, it screamed angst on my mind. This request reminded me I'm into writing pain stuff like my heart was broken a thousand times, and I wish I could say sorry for the pain, but I'm NOT hahaha no regrets. Enjoy!

tags @noritoshiikamo

main navi | masterlist

You were gone. You were gone and destroyed every piece of him, every inch of him were carved by you.

He knew by the first time he saw you that you'd have so much power over him, you could end him without even using words.

And that's what happened.

You with your beautiful eyes, and beautiful red dress. You broke him.

His blue eyes now devoid of bright, of color.

But he knew it was his fault.

His fault to insist bringing you to his world while you should've had stayed in yours, oblivion to everything related to jujutsu. Yet, he couldn't regret it. He would never regret meeting you, and being with you this whole time until you got apart.

There he was, above the skies, searching for cursed spirits who ran away from him, their fear reasoned since he was the strongest above all. He couldn't care less about their feelings. Within the curtain, without non-jujutsu sorceres, he just wanted to finish that spirits as fast as he could to call his day off and eat some sweets.

"Guess I'll have to go a little rough now, uh?" With a movement of his hands, he felt his cursed energy shaking inside him like an ocean of power, such powers had he overwhelmed by years until he could plenty control them.

But suddenly he felt another presence, aside cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers, he felt a human presence. With a frown of his browns, he took off his blindfolds, revealing beautiful blue eyes, in order to find out who or what was that feeling. His flowing energy all at once disrupted.

And then, he found you. He found you walking calmly through the lonely streets wearing a red dress he could never forget. "What an interesting..." He muttered checking out if you were truly human, six-eyes working hard to find it and, when he was certainly of it, his interest on you just grew even harder.

You were about to cross an alley between two buildings and he took the chance to teleport there by connecting his hands. You took a few steps and stopped to admire some store's window and he couldn't help but wonder how you were still there in that chaotic place so relaxed and withou fear.

"Who are you?" He came closer to you and you stepped back with surprise, staring at that tall white-haired man with suspicious eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Who's wanna know?" Your hands ready to punch his face if he dared to try something on you. His growing interest reached alarming levels as his heart bumped hard on his chest.

"I'm Gojo Satoru," He said without approaching you, and with a bow, he added. "The strongest above all. At your service."

"The strongest?" You said while lifting your chin up to him in defiance. "Oddly of you to say that, isn't?"

And he at that right moment, he knew he was lost. He was lost to you.

- x -

He was supposed to protect you, he was supposed to take care of you ever since you met. Instead, he brought you danger, he brought you pain, he brought you despair.

What's the point of being blessed with six-eyes if he couldn't protect the only one he cared the most?

Not a bless, but a curse. A sin held upon his shoulders. A burden so heavy he couldn't breath.

A sin so harmful that had stained you. Your naive soul. Innocent. Heavenly.

And he missed you. He missed your red lips. You red clothes. He missed how your smile seemed to warm him just like the red sunset you two watched once. His blue eyes missed staring at your for hours, drowning in yours.

Blue and red.

Red and blue.

Two parts independent from each other, yet they floated against them, their souls wiling to be one.

Convergence and divergence.

Divergence and convergence.

And when both opposites reunite...

The second time you met, Gojo wasn't on a mission and you weren't in danger at all. You had an average day and stopped by a coffee shop to drink some hot coffee, eat your favorite sweet and maybe read your favorite book just to get away from craziness of your life, you wanted to relax. You were at your favorite table, alone, and the costumers were passing around you and you weren't giving them attention when the doorbell left out a "ring!".

He couldn't help but desire some sweets, it was his nature as sweet-eater. He knew he would bring attention to him, he was tall, handsome as hell and was wearing a blindfold, of course everyone would've looked at him.

But you hadn't looked at him. You didn't even take your eyes out of the pages to check what happend at the cafe. Nevertheless, once again you caught his attention and he recognized you from your first meeting. "What do we have here?" He muttered with a glimpse of a smile on the corner of his lips.

He ordered a chocolate cake and signed the waiter to take it to your table. Meanwhile, he moved his long legs on tour way, like you were a force bringing him closer and closer each step. He moved the chair loudly and had his seat in front of you. "Hello, Y/N! Long time no see, ugh?"

Surprised by his suddenly entrance, you put your book down and looked straight at him. That weird man you met months ago, still you felt different about him. "Long time no see, strongest above all" you replied playfully. "What bring your majesty up here?"

— x —

When you third met, it was your first date. That turned into a second, and then a third, a fourth... And suddenly you were about all his life, above your weird friendship. All at once you became the one he needed the most to feel himself.

Yet he chose not to tell you about jujutsu. He chose not to tell you about his powers. About why he couldn't stay a little longer with you at your place. About where he would've been travel out of city for weeks without giving any news if he was okay.

He dissapeared for weeks in a roll. And you worried about him. About his blue eyes. You worried about never going to see him again, even though you didn't figure out what you feared at all.

Once, he came back of one of those long trips, after several weeks of nothing about him, but what he gave you to remind of him — his shirt, a photograph of you two, one of his blindfolds.

And you couldn't help but cry while kissing him. You couldn't help but to say you loved him you never wanted for him to disappear. And he would retrieve, he would say he loved you so hard you had him in your hands. He was yours to be loved, to be destroyed.

The strongest on his knees at a human's mercy.

Had never his eyes sight such a colorful being, such a colorful existence. He was at your mercy, his existence, his entire being was yours to paint, to stain, to rip him apart if you wanted.

And then, when you two lay down together, messy sheets and pillows. Blue and red met once again, but not apart, they were together. That time blue and red turned into a beautiful tone of purple.

— x —

Someday you would find out, he knew it. Yet, he still longed for time to be with you, time to be himself without necessarily being the strongest, the head of his clan, the balance between cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers.

But he knew he had no time, you had no time with him. There wasn't enough time with jujutsu and curses. They would've come for you by anytime.

He masked his worries from you. He always seemed so happy in his nonchalant and playful way. Always trying to annoy you and make you laugh everytime you spent together.

You mocked the "strongest above all" out of him every opportunity you had. And this had him caring about you more and more.

But then it wasn't a joke anymore.

Jujutsu were real.

Cursed spirits were real.

And you were just a human.

Alone.

Blood. Red. Everything is red. Everything is blood. Pain. You were in pain screaming. You couldn't see what hurt you, but that ominous feeling was still there in your place. "What happened? What happened? Who are you? Who are you?" You couldn't help keep muttering it like a prayer, thinking of Gojo who was to come by and see your hurt state.

But Gojo Satoru felt the overflowed cursed energy arisen from your place. His bare eyes naked with worry and, for the first time, fear. And then he broke. Every piece of him.

He found you on the floor, muttering non-sense words — including his name in your dizzy state — blood running over you limbs, torso and head. A cut on your beautiful face. And above you, at the ceiling, that goddamn cursed spirit laughing out loud mocking you. Mocking your pain. Your despair.

He ran out of control. He released this powers untamed, uncontrolled. In a blink of an eye he exorcised that cursed spirit from existence. He was furious, feral. He could bring fire to the world if it means to keep you safe, to keep you alive. "Y/N?" He came closer to you, checking out your pulse as his hand held your wrist. It was so weak his heart almost stopped. "Don't leave me, please. You don't deserve to die."

— x —

When everything fell apart, he took you to Shoko at Jujutsu High nursery. She healed your physical wounds in silence while he stayed by your side. You kept unconscious the process, sometimes mumbling while your expression turned into a painful one.

When you woke up at his place, you said nothing. Nothing came out from your mouth, even though he tried to make you speak. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks. You could hear him say "Love, love, love, please, talk to me" in a desperate broken tone.

Yet you couldn't say a thing.

When purple turned into grey, everything faded away. Everything blurred.

Happiness overpowered by despair and pain. You were broken such as the beautiful thing you two had.

"Y/N, please, please, I'm begging," Once more his voice muffled on your ears. Why they hold such pain? "I'm on my knees, Y/N, please, come back, come back to me."

He told you the truth about him so many times expecting some reaction, something from you. Yet he received anything at all. You were numb to reality, there was nothing he could do about that.

But one day, after weeks and weeks of him trying to call you back, you spoke for the first time. Pale eyes meeting him lifeless. And he felt his world falling apart again. "I want to go" You whispered and he widened his pretty eyes full of tears.

"What, Y/N?"

"I want to leave. I wanto to go away from here. Take me out, take me out, take me out..." You kept saying repeatdly, each time a knife stabbing his heart.

"Y/N, love..." He tried to touch your hair, but you moved away from him.

"No, no," You muttered afraid. "It's your fault. The monsters. The blood. The pain..." You shrunk yourself in your bed, crying. "The nightmares. It's your fault." Your crying getting louder and louder. "I wish I could forget you."

"Y/N, I-I," He struggled his words, afraid and crying. "You know I can protect you, you know I will."

Your voice cold in his ears aside your tears. "No, you can't."

— x —

Blue bright eyes once, but not anymore. Not when the reason they shone for now It's gone. When you've chosen to forget him since your accident.

That was what you asked, to forget. To forget the pain, the blood the nightmares, him...

It was quite easy to manipulate your memories, cursed energy manipulation and then it's done. Not that it means it did not hurt him, but it had to be done.

When light came back to your eyes, Gojo's bright faded away.

When you smiled red, blue was not his color anymore.

When your life was colorful, his was grey and devoid of any color.

Red and blue turned into purple. His heart was craved by yours, when you were together.

Purple danced in front of his eyes as his memories overflowed his mind. Blue eyes crying because of red.

Blue eyes seeing grey because now red is gone forever and blue is alone.

#sofi is writing — jjks #jjk gojo #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru jujutsu kaisen #gojo jjk #gojo satoru angst