#I've come a very long way as a writer no thanks to this series and I'm still proud of it even if there was so much cringe XD

[warriorsparked]

Midnight Pleasures.

Originally written 2010 Characters:  Megatron, Shockwave Timelines: Early post-war (MY AU) Warning: contains mech/mech, sex scene.

   Megatron’s servos grasped at the berth beneath him, his lips parting in his stasis. The heat of his dream circled down between his legs, swallowing him whole with wet, delicate lips. Beneath his casing, his cable was hard and pulsing, dripping inside from his excitement as thick, pouty lips took him again and again.    He was so close, he could feel it, somewhere mixed between being in stasis and being awake. He could feel the very real physical pleasure, his cable throbbing as he lay on his back atop the berth he shared with his mate. Only it was not Shockwave that was down between his legs, but a stranger. No one. No name, no frame, no real identity, just a mystery shape as they suckled him.    Just a little longer. Just a little more. So close! Almost there! His thighs parted, and as he felt the pent up pressure ready to release, some cruel force of nature made his optics flicker online, his spark thumping in his chest as the ceiling came into view.    He was back on the Ark. The small room that was shared between him and his newfound bonded surrounding him.    Swallowing hard, Megatron realised that he was short of breath, having panted from his dream. Primus, he was even covered in a sweat, condensation beaded against his chest. His dreams were often vivid, but many of them were nightmares, hands clawing at him, screams in his audios, or whispers of cruel promises. Tonight, it had been different, and his cable was still hard between his legs beneath his codpiece, just seconds away from erupting.

   “Are you alright?” Shockwave’s voice was soft between them as he lay beside Megatron. Though unlike his bondmate, the scientist was clean of any condensation, and was calm and collected. He’d only woken because Megatron had been shifting in his stasis so much. Generally speaking, this was not uncommon, though most nights it was due to his night terrors, the memories and the torture he’d suffered before and throughout the war.    Tonight, it appeared to be a completely different reason. He could see the heat glowing between Megatron’s thighs, which indicated his arousal. As his relatively new bondmate, he could also feel a certain rush of energy being so close to Megatron’s spark and EM field.

   Megatron had flinched despite the softness of Shockwave’s Tarnian accent. He took a deep breath, the glow of yellow drawing his optics to his partner. “Fine,” he muttered, though a sense of guilt began to weigh heavily in his chest.    He had dreamed of something that Shockwave could not do. He could not wrap his lips around his cable, for he lacked them. That was not something entirely strange for their people, as they came in all shapes and sizes, but it had been something that Megatron had found exciting many a time. He had to get used to the idea that it would never happen again for so long as he was bonded to Shockwave (which he hoped was until the end of time).    Sitting up, he pushed himself to the edge of the berth. He should not speak of it. He should not mention it when Shockwave had been nothing but loyal to him for so long. It would be a slap to his lover’s face, but it was hard to hide the fact that he had been aroused, and Shockwave had already seen it.    When a hand went to his shoulder, he felt himself frown. Shockwave was always so supportive that it hurt sometimes. In fact, it had made him downright angry at times. How could he remain so loyal to someone like him, even after the war? He was far from perfect. He’d been a mess once it had ended, not to mention the long recovery from his processor surgery. Shockwave was always there, like a loyal dog, and this was how he repaid him?    He was not good enough for the other mech. He was unworthy.

   “Forgive my intrusion, but you do not appear to be fine,” Shockwave spoke. It was true, that they had not been bonded for long, that they had completely and utterly rushed into something so serious, but their feelings spoke for themselves. Not just since the end of war, but before it also. Particularly on Shockwave’s side of things.    He had watched Megatron brood in the war meetings, he had watched him kill and torture, and many other things. He could tell when Megatron was fine or not, even if others thought he was an emotionless droid.  

   Megatron turned his head slightly, though he did not see Shockwave over his shoulder, his optics looking down before he placed his hand atop the other.    “My stasis haunts me, Shockwave, you know this. It is nothing new, and it will not be the last time.” That was for certain. “But, I…” He paused, his lips parting before he closed them again.

   A curious antenna twitched as Megatron stopped. He did not need to tell him, he never did. Shockwave didn’t expect the former warlord to tell him every, little detail of his past life. They had worked so long together, it was hard to imagine that either of them had lives before the war. They were different people back then (quite literally in Shockwave’s case, although he had not yet discovered that).    “Yes?” he asked as Megatron’s hand fell from his own.

   The sensation of his dream still lingered, still went unsatisfied, and it bothered him. It bothered Megatron that he was thinking of someone else, a femme, instead of the mech that shared his berth. Their berth.    “I am sorry,” he replied, turning part way on the berth so he could look Shockwave in the optic as he said it. “I dream of things I cannot control. Of those that… are not you. I wish that I could control it, but I cannot.” As a bonded pair, did that mean he was breaking some rule he did not understand? It wasn’t like he’d ever been bonded before, let alone held any real stable relationship. He may have shared the berth with a thousand and even more others, but it had always been pleasure and nothing more. Unless it was pain. Love? Megatron didn’t know what the hell love was. At least, not until he’d realised it had been staring him in the face for so damn long and he’d been to blinded by greed and corruption to see it.  

   Was that Megatron’s problem? Shockwave’s optic lowered a moment, just to see the faint glow that came from Megatron’s cod. His head tilted before he looked back to those two, fierce optics. There was a want in them, a desire, and Shockwave could tell.    “You need not apologise for dreams, Megatron,” he stated, like it was as simple as that. Was it not? He did not understand how Megatron could blame himself on something he could not control. None of them could. Dreams were entirely involuntary. That was just well known science.    When Megatron turned, he lowered his hand. “I have experienced my fair share.” Some of them had been wild, made little sense. Some of them had felt so real, like he had lived a completely different life to the one he knew. It was a normal thing, to dream. Some experienced more vivid ones, some none at all. Either way, no one could control them, not without a cortical psychic patch anyway, and even then, that was an entirely different thing.

   Of course Shockwave would say that. He had an answer for everything, annoyingly  so at times. How he envied Shockwave’s ability to just… let things go. To not care about things that could not be controlled. To see reality for what it was, and not what warped it thanks to trauma and deeply rooted emotions.    He brushed that aside. Things between them were still new, and they would be for some time. Two war veterans, falling in love with each other, none of them knowing what true love actually was. They would fumble, and fumble again, but the important thing was that they tried.    Leaning his hand up, he cupped Shockwave’s chin, a thumb moving across warm metal. Shockwave may not be able to take his cable in his mouth, but he could certainly finish what he dream had started.    “Touch me.” It was said with a passion, a demand more than any sort of beg. Megatron did not beg.

   Shockwave looked at the other mech, befuddled at the sudden command. He was still getting used to these requests, the idea that his hands could now trace against any part of Megatron without a fusion canon aimed at the back of his head.    But it begged the question. What sort of touching? Where was he supposed to touch him? The request made him hesitate, hoping that he would get it right. He moved forward, awkwardly, and placed his hand to Megatron’s chest, hoping that that would suffice.

   Megatron merely chuckled. “Lower, Shockwave.”

   Shockwave’s hand fell down to Megatron’s stomach, where he looked back up for confirmation. The look on his lover’s face said it was not low enough, and he realised what Megatron meant. Oh…    Shockwave could not use his lips on him, but his mate had two hands. Two hands that could envelop him, two hands that could make him feel loved and comforted, and pleasure and pain all at the same time.    Megatron retracted his casing, where his cable fell out, still semi-hard, and when Shockwave’s hand finally understood the order, he exhaled a breath at the sensation of finally being touched. He still could not accept the idea of anyone controlling him in the berth, but did Shockwave realise just how much control he really had? Did Shockwave realise what he could actually do to him? That he was one of the few that could have actually bested him in battle? Yet, he never chose to.  Megatron could have melted against him, yet he still gave the illusion that he was the one in control. Always. He would never surrender.

   Watching Megatron, Shockwave felt his own body react at the feeling of his lover’s hardened cable inside his palm. It was not often he found himself so easily aroused, but there was something about Megatron that made it impossible to ignore.

   Leaning forward, Megatron pressed his helm to Shockwave’s, their fields touching. He should not be rewarded like this, he knew, but he also did not care anymore. Shockwave was close, and he was there, with him, his hand working him over enough for him to put that into the very back of his mind.    He tensed at the pleasure as it built, feeling lubricant dribble from the head of his arousal. Shockwave used it to ease any friction, causing him to twitch, already overly sensitive from his unfinished dream.    With optics dimming, he moved his own hand towards Shockwave’s thigh, tracing over pale metal. “Why don’t you open up for me?” he teased, moving so he could press his lips to Shockwave’s neck, kissing at the exposed wires. He wanted to bite him, to sink his fangs into the soft, fleshy wiring and taste him, but not now. Not tonight. It was too soon, and he did not wish to scare his lover away.

   If only Megatron knew, though. If only he knew how much Shockwave wanted that. Still, the former Guardian of Cybertron did not hesitate to follow Megatron’s command, his own codpiece retracting and exposing his own erect cable.    When Megatron’s hand wrapped itself around him, he tensed, wings flaring and antennae flicking back. He was suddenly on his back as the larger mech moved over him. His hand lost the hardened length of Megatron’s shaft, grasping onto any part of his mate he could as he was so easily manoeuvred.  

   “That’s it, just relax,” Megatron urged. Control was hard to give up, it seemed, or maybe it was the idea and image of Shockwave beneath him, squirming like that. So much raw emotion when he was there, like he’d never seen before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. “Does it feel good?” he spoke softly in Tarnian just for the other mech as he wrapped his hand around both of their cables, rubbing them together.

   Shockwave made a soft noise from his vocaliser, surprised when Megatron spoke to him in his home tongue. He’d not forgotten that Megatron could speak it, it was just not something he’d done in a long, long time. It felt personal. Intimate.    Megatron had never perfected other languages like he had. There was a certain twang in the accent that was certainly not from Tarn, but that did not matter. Often, Megatron had used Soundwave to help translate other languages, until he’d invented an internal programme which helped Megatron along his travels. ”Yes,” he replied in his mother tongue, his servos clawing at Megatron’s back now. He moaned when he felt lips at his neck again, down his shoulder and over his chest, where his spark was.    “I want you,” he whimpered back in the common tongue. “My Liege, I beg you.” Yes, it felt so natural for him to beg like that beneath the larger mech.

   It was that easy. It was that easy to rile Shockwave up, even if it had been him to wake from an erotic dream. So eager to please, so eager for him. That settled some worries within Megatron’s own spark as his hand continued to pump up both their lengths. Shockwave was considerably smaller than him, but that made no difference to him. He’d come to enjoy his lover’s body, despite never having thought much about other mechs outside of pure, physical gain.    Leaning back, he abandoned their cables, but it was only so he could pull Shockwave’s legs around him and guide his cable into his lover’s already damp aft. It slipped in with an ease that only told him how excited Shockwave was, hearing him moan as he was swallowed.    Leaning back down, his hands hit the berth, servos clawing at it as he rocked his hips back and forth.    “You taste so sweet,” he whispered against Shockwave’s neck, kissing and suckling at metal and wires.    Between Shockwave’s moans and what lingered from his dream, it did not take long for him to overload, nor Shockwave. Soon, the two of them were tangled limbs, servos scratching at painted armour and gripping at any surface they could.    He soon felt the heat of his overload spill into Shockwave beneath him, as well as Shockwave’s overload that created a slick mess between them.    With cooling fans whirring, Shockwave’s hands fell from Megatron’s back, having gripped onto his tracks for dear life. His legs fell, vents huffing air from his throat to try and cool his poor body down.    When he felt Megatron exit him, he tensed, a soft moan vibrating down his chest as he felt lubricant dribble down between his legs and no doubt onto the berth.    Idly, he lifted a hand, where he cupped Megatron’s cheek, warm from their lovemaking. There was something tender in those optics, something that was shared only between the two of them that no one else had the privilege of seeing.  

   Megatron found himself uncharacteristically leaning into the touch of his mate. He was not used to gentle gestures and touches like that. He didn’t realise how much he needed them. How good they actually felt, and yet how vulnerable he became at the same time.    “Hm… we have made a mess,” he muttered, looking down to see Shockwave’s overload against the both of them. Anything to gain control again. To not feel so weak at such a simple thing like Shockwave’s servos at his metal skin. Primus, when did he become so fucking desperate? Or had he always been this way? All the hate and anger, shadowing his pain and need.

   Shockwave looked down. “It appears so…” They would need to clean themselves up, and the berth by this point.

   “No matter,” the former warlord hummed, a smirk at his lips, “It was well worth it.”

#My art #My fics #My AU #MegaShock #// This was originally written in 2010 though I'm doing a MASSIVE overhaul of my long fic series and all the ficlets that tie in #This was legit just a little PWP but also I don't expect anyone who hasn't read my series to understand wtf is happening if you do end up #reading this lol #Let me tell you how much the start of this series sucks balls because it was a diff time and I was so young also it was over 10 years ago l #But I can say wholeheartedly that I am so happy with the rewrite and how it's going <3 #I've come a very long way as a writer no thanks to this series and I'm still proud of it even if there was so much cringe XD #ANYWAY I'm rambling because posting this here is making me nervous hahaha

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x ofc #marcus pike x reader #a baker’s dozen

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood!fem reader, with the song I Can See You, where they are rivals kinda like him and Quill, and she hates him because his annoying, and he just likes to flirt with her to annoy her. And they get put on a case together by DEPRAC, and I don't know you could make some scene like from Lockwood&Co season 1, where he and Lucy where discovered by the relic man and his wife, I don't remember their name, but like something similar, where he is willing to do anything just so they don't hurt her. Also, could you put a dagger to the throat scene in somewhere, where the reader is holding a dagger to his throat, but all he can think about is kissing her. Obviously, you can make the plot so it suits the song. I hope you could write this as long as possible because I love long fics, and your Lockwood fics are just amazing!!

I Can See You - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: Had a bit of writers' block with this for a while, but I think it's one of my favourite works yet. TW slight suicidal and death mentions, spoilers for the ending of the second book in the series. 5.9k, enjoy!

Lucy Carlyle was currently looking back and forth between Lockwood and the leader of one of the teams from Fittes. Both of them were just staring intensely at each other in silence, expressions inscrutable. The Fittes agents watched their leader apprehensively while George was practically beside himself with glee.

"George, who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Lockwood's had a bit of a thing for her for a while."

"Bit of a thing...?"

"They hardly agree on anything. Makes for some very entertaining cases, if dangerous. I've put money on her setting his coat on fire within five hours."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask more questions, but George shushed her impatiently.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Can't say I return the sentiment, Andrew.”

“Charming as ever, I see."

Barnes had sent them a letter a few hours ago, requesting their immediate assistance on yet another DEPRAC misson. That was nothing new, and neither was them being partnered up with a team from either Fittes or Rotwell. But a boyish glow had washed over Anthony as he skimmed the letter; he looked pleased enough to start humming. George didn't have as intense of a reaction, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair and he hadn't wasted time dawdling like he usually did. And now this stand-off. Strange.

“At least the papers get my name right.”

“I’d rather your lips get my name right."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was a small kerfuffle as her teammates lunged to hold her back as she tried to launch herself at Lockwood.

"I take it back. Fuck you Lockwood, you and your agency can go to hell. Oh, hi George. Did you get my biscuits?"

"They were lovely. This is Lucy, by the way. New recruit."

"Hi Lucy. I like your boots."

"Thanks. I like your belt."

"Really? I got it for a really sweet deal."

"Well, while we're exchanging compliments," Lockwood began all too innocently, unperturbed by her glare, "I really like your jumper, Y/N."

A curious silence followed as she stared at Lockwood, trying to figure him out. Next to Lucy, George inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "Now that I think of it, might be best to lower it to three hours."

She finally broke the silence, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of falling for his only seemingly innocuous bait. "Right, well, I don't care. I hate it, in fact."

"Really?" He had the gall to raise his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It would look better on my bedroom floor."

She was too flustered to come up with any clever sort of response, only this choking sound that was a cross between a scoff and an expression of disgust. It was only because it was completely uncalled for, she reassured herself. Why would she want to know anything about his bedroom, floor or otherwise? She suddenly became aware of the murmurs running through her team and she rallied her senses as best she could.

"In your dreams, Lockwood."

"Ass-kisser."

"Rule-breaker."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"We're starting!" Barnes hurried in, so she had to settle for giving Lockwood a very dirty look. "Well, not much to it this time. We're missing source, a pair of opera glasses, recovered only a few hours ago."

Barnes holds out a file and Lockwood and her both lunge for it, but she's just a fraction quicker. Feeling unusually smug, she takes her time smelling the paper, flicking the page, glancing at the ghost of the competitive smile on Lockwood's lips.

"...we think it's more likely that they're still inside the house they were found in, but it's always possible that they've already been stolen-"

"Wait, a poltergeist?" She was holding the file open to the second page. "Inspector Barnes, you can't be serious!"

"You'll manage. Reports don't point to it being particularly vicious, and visiting the house is more of formality. We don't expect the source to still be there, buy we didn't check for hidden walls or flooring." One of Barnes' assistants leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "I have to go. Find the source."

With that, Barnes left, and the two teams stepped forward to absorb the space he left, Lockwood and her facing each other directly.

"Well then, to the house we go."

"Are you crazy? With a poltergeist? That's a suicide mission."

"But isn't that what Inspector Barnes said?"

"I don't know what kind of agency Lockwood & Co. is, but at Fittes we address our superiors with respect."

"If the source is at the house, we won't have to deal with Winkman. Case closed."

"My team would rather deal with Winkman than a poltergeist. Case open."

"No, your team wouldn't think that if they had actually dealt with Winkman before, like we have. Case closed."

"But-"

"Look, you do not want to deal with Winkman. Trust me on this."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air in the house was stale, and the creaky floorboards made her jump while the wind howling through some draft kept her on edge. In short, the worst kind of house to deal with a poltergeist. The corridors were so narrow, shrouded in darkness except for light from the ghost lamps filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and everything smelt like death. They were walking in a single file, Lockwood and her at the end, just to make sure no one got left behind. Of course, that also meant that she had no respite from his incessant chatter, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Would you quit it? I'm trying to Listen."

"We'll be fine. I happen to have the-"

"The best Listener in the country, yes, so you've mentioned. A few billion times."

"Aw, cheer up. I'm sure you're not half bad either."

"I'm perfectly cheerful, thank you very much."

"Then I wonder what you're like when you're actually all wound up."

That was her breaking point. She needed to assert herself if she had any hope of being even remotely civil towards Lockwood on what was beginning to look like a very long case. She spun around, pulling out her dagger and pushing the flat of the blade against Lockwood's neck while the rest of the party continued on, oblivious.

"Still no rapier? Y/N, you're going to get yourself killed. That butter knife of a weapon isn't going to do anything to a ghost."

"Listen, Anthony, I'm here to do a job, not entertain your charades, and I'd like to do so with as little casualties as possible. But if you don't stop, I think I can make an exception for you. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Are we clear?"

She revelled in his stunned expression, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, finally receiving his full attention. But as the glow of her satisfaction faded, she felt a lump growing uncomfortably in her throat, suddenly aware of the simmering hunger in his gaze, completely unable to tear her eyes away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn he ever so slightly licked his lips, and unbidden images of what they could, or would, do if they were alone flashed in her mind's eye. She felt rather than imagined his mouth pressed unyieldingly against hers, his hair in her fingers, their bodies pressed impossibly close to each other.

She inhaled sharply, blinking, unknowingly withdrawing within herself, her dagger resting on his collarbone rather than his throat. Lockwood's expression was back to normal, insufferable and aggravating as always, but there was a slightly less arrogant tilt to his head now.

"If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask."

"I'm not even...going to deign you with a response to that. It's scarring to just think about." Not her best, but it was all she could force out without giving away the need bottled up inside of her. But she could see in the way that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes that he felt it too. That moment had permanently shifted their relations. From professional, if slightly hostile, to something far more intimate. It made her dizzy with want, or fear - she couldn't decide.

One of her teammates had stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Lockwood squeezed past the single file, barely brushing against her, razor-sharp focus on the door. She hated the way her cheeks flushed at the slightest of his touches. He became a totally different person when he was working: dedicated, professional, capable, and the Fittes-agent in her couldn't help but find that efficiency desperately appealing. But it was more than that. As big as his ego was, he clearly didn’t think much of his casual nonchalance or confidence, and there were these increasingly frequent moments where she would be possessed by this sudden insanity to wrap her arms (rather than her hands) around his neck.

Months of suppressing and denying feeling anything other than despisal towards him certainly didn't help matters. It made her feel unstable, like she didn't have proper control over what she would do or say when she was around him. Kiss him, kill him, push him over a bridge...She spent half of her time with him enraptured and the other half trying not to think about him. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was something about his daring, his ability to throw himself in the direct line of fire that made him so dangerous, so addicting.

The boy at the front stepped back, relieved, as Lockwood pressed his ear to the door. He started turning the doorknob.

"Lockwood, don't, you can't hear a poltergeist. He's probably heard us by now but he hasn't done anything yet. Don't be foolhardy. It could be a trap."

"I don't think it's a trap."

"You don't know it's not a trap. We need to think about what to do next."

But it was too late. Lockwood swung the door open. In an instant, the floor heaved, then gave away, and suddenly she was falling through the air.

"Lockwood, I fucking hate your guts!"

Out of nowhere, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and then almost immediately slammed into a wall. There was this awful ringing noise in her ear, but at least she had someone to hold onto.

"Please, save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She groaned, wishing it was literally anyone else, trying to block out the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers.

"That's twice I've saved you now, by the way."

All she could manage was an incomprehensible scream which made Lockwood wince, not realising her lips were on the shell of his ear. Strangely enough, despite her panic, she felt oddly grounded by the feel of Lockwood's rough coat desperately clutched in her hands and his annoying yet normal quips. It was a new sensation. Plastered against her mortal enemy, and yet it was the only thing keeping her breathing? The intimacy of how she was wrapped around him made her breath hitch, and the anxiety it induced was enough to drive her back to the present.

Looking down was nauseating, and looking up was somehow worse. Lockwood had wound a loose wire from the ceiling around his knuckles, and it was digging a cut into his palm. She felt her grip loosen as her head spun, but the arm around her waist tightened. She felt a brief flicker of peace, or maybe hope, and then the ceiling started to crumble.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last bits of debris were still falling when she came to, but she could have sworn she had blacked out in fear for a moment. She couldn't feel any broken bones, only a heavy weight on her hip. She blinked away the blood and dust and saw the weight take the form of Lockwood.

"Well. I didn't know you were so scared of heights."

Lockwood didn't like admitting fault, and she didn't like admitting weakness. It was such a silly thing to be afraid of, but and when all Lockwood did was push her to the precipice of territories unknown, she didn't know what to do with the fear running through her. Didn't know what to do, except lash out.

"Get off. Get off.”

"Geez, take me out to dinner first." She finally snapped.

"This is all your fault!" She yanked him towards herself by the lapels of his coat, yelling at him through tears. "That's twice you've put our lives in danger, idiot. I told you it wasn't worth it, that we would be so much better off at Winkman's, but you just had to go for the more dangerous option. You just had to open that door. Anthony Lockwood, you're a professional show-off. What if someone on my team died today? You'd just skip on home while I would have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. You don't know what it's like to see someone Ghost-touched in front of your eyes and being completely and utterly helpless."

The lines on his face hardened. "Y/N, if the worst thing to you is death, you won't stand a chance against Winkman."

"What do you know? You've demolished an entire house. Face it Lockwood, everything you touch gets destroyed."

He was finally out of smartass quips. She felt small just saying that. She knew it was too far, and under-handed, but she was just so mad she couldn't help but spit fire. Why did he have to be so reckless? Didn't he realise his luck would only last him so long?

She felt an awful prickling at the back of her eyes, and she tried to convince herself that no one noticed the rough edge to her voice. "I think it's best we go our separate ways." With a heavy heart, she turned, her team tiredly following her, no one pulling her back to stay this time. Feeling the floor fall beneath her feet and seeing Lockwood grasping for life with his fingertips was too frightening for her to stay, and if that meant she was a coward, so be it.

Too much of a coward to even look him in the eye.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her team decided to stop for supper before tackling Winkman, not that she managed to eat much. The events at the house sat like lead in her churning stomach as she turned the memories and images in her head, until she felt numb. It was either that, or acknowledging that she just might be the worst person in the entire world. Distantly, she heard her team discussing their plan of attack at Winkman's, and suddenly her mouth was forming words her brain wasn't aware of.

"I'll go. No point in all of us going, we wouldn't be stealthy enough. Besides, I'm responsible for all of you. Contact DEPRAC if I'm not back in 12 hours." With that, she stood up and left before she could properly hear her team's protests.

As she drew nearer to Winkman's, she heard repeated dull, echoing thuds of metal hitting metal. She crept up cautiously with her hand on her dagger, then visibly relaxed when she saw it was just Lockwood hammering away at the lock.

"Oh. It's you." Apart from a glance, Lockwood acted like he didn't even hear her, or know her, with an impassive expression. A part of her was angry, but another part knew it was what she deserved.

"You're lucky it was just me. That dagger's not scaring off anyone." She fumed. Did he have to be so antagonistic? Why couldn't he be nice or just civil like a normal person?

"The dagger works perfectly fine for me. I have no trouble scaring anyone off."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice was so rough with hurt and resentment that she instantly regretted everything she just had to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by the final clang of Lockwood's rapier and the thud of the lock falling off.

"Lockwood, I'm really sor-"

"Save it. Somehow, that's still not the most frustrating thing about you."

Her mouth dropped open, and it was a good few seconds before she spluttered and found her voice again. "Frustrating? ME? Are you out of your mind?"

She felt her back slam against the aluminium door, not much different from how she had cornered Lockwood in the house. Lockwood's arms caged her in, but he didn't make her feel nearly as claustrophobic as her emotions did, threatening to claw their way up her throat. He was impossibly close, breath ghosting over her face, overwhelming her senses, and she felt every rational thought scatter in her brain, like loose marbles. His voice was gravelly, almost tender, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"What would you do..." She didn't resist the arm snaking around her waist, nudging her closer. "If I held you like this..." His other arm reached into her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine, cradling her head and exposing her neck in a way that made her feel too vulnerable. His breath tickled her ear, threatening to snap every single one of her highly-strung nerves, mouth just a few inches below her temple. "...and kissed you?"

For a few short seconds, all she was aware of was her distracted, erratic heartbeat and the feel of Lockwood all around her. She felt her legs losing circulation and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. He pulled back, cold air rushing in to take his place and sting her scarlet cheeks. Her answer must have been written all over her face, making Lockwood laugh sardonically.

"But no, Y/N L/N is too good, too proud to be involved with anyone beneath her. So she'll deny and push down any sort of feeling or passion," he spit that word out with such vehemence, "Like she's some saint, too holy to meddle with mortal sins like love. No, no, so in your perfect, sensible words, let's just stay out of each other's way." Even though they were her own words, it stung to have them thrown back in her face with such malice. Lockwood started on one end of the warehouse, and she started on the other end, sifting through the hoards of trinkets as if on autopilot.

"I wasn't kidding before. It really is dangerous to carry a dagger instead of a rapier. You'd be ghost touched before you realised."

Lockwood's voice floated above, somewhere beyond the walls of junk. Her hands trembled as she continued, guilt gnawing away at her, fixating on the feeling of his hands on her.

"And just so you know, if someone on your team died, whether or not it was because of me, I would very much care. I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

She groaned internally, the beginnings of a migraine spreading through her temple. Why did he have to be so complicated? "Which is why," he continued, "you should go back. I've handled him before, and I can handle him again. You're way out of your depth here."

"I've been an agent nearly as long as you have. I'll be fine. Just focus on finding the glasses so both of us can get out of here."

"No, you won't. Trust me on this. Leave."

"Lockwood," she began irritatedly. She was so very tired. Why did Barnes ever think they would make a good, or even functional team? "I mean it. Stop being an ass and just look for the glasses, okay? Lockwood? Lockwood?"

She crept around the aisle, peeking from behind a tapestry. Her vision was limited, but she could see enough. Lockwood was kneeling, talking soothingly to this little boy of about five. There didn't seem to be anything obviously hostile about him, but something about the scene deeply unsettled her. Suddenly, there was a flash of electricity at Lockwood's neck, and he slumped forward. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, tasting blood.

She turned away as the woman who had shocked him dragged him off. Her heart shifted into overdrive. She looked around blurrily, fighting back tears, shoving down the panic and bile rising in her throat. She had to save him. No, she had to find the glasses first. Then she would come back with reinforcements. It was only logical. But what if it was too late by then? She clumsily searched the little cartons, making more noise than she would have liked, breathing shallowly as she desperately fought the panic attack hovering over her.

Maybe it was just her heightened anxiety now that she was alone, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She spun around and was badly startled by that same boy - Winkman's grubby gremlin of a son. Oddly enough, it grounded her enough to stop spiralling. "What are you looking at? God, you're so creepy. Quit it with that smile, your cute act won't work on - oh."

And it was just as those words fell from her lips and the world turned black that she realised her horrendous, absolutely awful mistake.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the world came back into focus, she felt terrible. Every joint in her body was screaming for relief and her sore muscles ached. Once she had adjusted to the blinding light, she felt the rough floor against her cheek, heard voices around her; one behind her and one in front. She felt...distant, somehow, but she was sure one of them was Lockwood's...so the other had to be Winkman's.

She shifted her fingers as much as she dared, heart in her mouth for fear of being caught at any second. The muffled voices continued miles away from her, as if she wasn't even in the room, one of them becoming increasingly agitated. What was Lockwood even doing? Couldn't he see that she was awake?

She blinked imperceptibly, and the blood roaring in her ears finally died down. Her head hurt and her senses were too stimulated to think straight, but she managed to pick out Lockwood's voice eventually.

"I'm telling you, I don't know her. We're not even from the same agency."

"Is that so?"

"She might not even be an agent, I don't see a rapier on her." She felt a stab of annoyance and then overwhelming relief. Her other hand was stuck beneath her, but if she could just wriggle it around enough - yes. She still had her dagger. Her fingers closed over the handle, waiting for the right time to strike.

"Then you won't mind if I..." Winkman trailed off, and her glow of happiness was immediately extinguished by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed against her skull. It took all her efforts to not openly panic. She closed her eyes tighter, bracing for the pull of the trigger as she heard the gun click.

"Don't!" Lockwood's voice reverberated in the dingy room, startling everyone.

"So you do know her."

"I don't, I just think that she shouldn't have to die when she hasn't done anything wrong. She just got caught in the middle of this. Please, she can't tell you anything. Just let her go."

"How would you know? Fittes uniform...looks like some higher-up. She probably knows something of value, and I could probably force it out of her," he pressed the gun more insistently into her skull, "if not out of you."

Her mouth was dry as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die here, she could feel it. Suddenly, she heard Lockwood speaking in a rush, breathless, and she felt her heart sink.

"Fine. I know her. And I know she doesn't have anything you want. But I do. Whatever you want to know- want to do, do it to me, I'll tell you everything. You can kill me, I'll never see the light of day again, and no one will find out. No one will come looking. Just let her leave, she won't breathe a word of this to anyone else, I promise."

She could feel Winkman consider his words, and after a moment or two, she felt the barrel being lifted from her head. That was all she needed.

With her free, outstretched hand, she grabbed the barrel, hoping and praying Winkman's finger wasn't on the trigger. Her prayers were answered, and she jerked the rifle upwards, which punched him in the jaw. His grip loosened, and she turned the rifle on him, slipping Lockwood her dagger with her other hand to cut himself out of his restraints.

"Take one step towards us, and I'll shoot." Winkman was right where she wanted him, because there was nothing more terrible for a man as selfish as him than dying, missing the chance to enjoy his spoils. Her voice was calm and belied the rage simmering underneath her. How dare they hold Lockwood hostage like that? They were going to pay, and she would make sure of it. She was so furious, and all reason had been thrown out the window by that point.

"Actually, I don't need a reason to blow your fucking brains out." She raised the rifle, taking aim, just about to pull the trigger, when she felt Lockwood's hand on her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him, but she immediately felt the anger bubbling within her flow out, replaced by the gasping relief that everything was going to be fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She kept the rifle trained on the couple as best as she could with her trembling hands as she and Lockwood slowly backed away, then broke into a sprint, rifle tossed to the side halfway through. When they had finally run far enough into the city, they stopped at a bench underneath a ghost lamp, and for several seconds there was only the sound of their panting as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"I think," she began breathlessly, "that's the third time you've saved my neck." Lockwood looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she smiled so earnestly that they couldn't help but laugh. Their laughter swelled in the silence of the night.

But the laughter was temporary, just like their relief, and once they fell silent, the tension from earlier returned and occupied that vacancy. She pulled out a mini first-aid kit and started cleaning up his cut, which looked grimy and almost definitely infected by now.

"What was that, at Winkman's? You were practically begging him to kill you."

He didn't respond, and his eyes had taken on a dull sheen. It confirmed everything she needed to know.

"I...I guessed, a little...never would have thought it true."

It was like talking to a mannequin, except for the occasional wince when the rubbing alcohol stung. She didn't even recognise her own voice. It hurt to think about her being more attached to Lockwood's life than he was. The vigour with which she bandaged his cut grew with her words.

"It...It feels weird when you say things like no one would come looking for you. Your friends care about you so much. George would burn down the Archives if it meant saving you-" Lockwood groaned at the idea. "-and yes, he will bitch and moan about it for probably years on end, but if it meant you sticking around? He'd do it in a heartbeat. And I'm sure Lucy is no different either. I don't know how you got this weird idea that we'd just move on with our lives if you disappeared, because we wouldn't. Lockwood, people care about you, so stop being an arse and just let them."

"Even you?"

She paused, pretending to focus on the ointment. Opening up was as difficult as cracking a walnut open, but it was a bit too late to avoid all this. "I get restless if I don't see you in the papers for a while, whether it be for burning a house down or actually getting a job right. And every morning when I pick up the paper, I hope...I hope i don't see your obituary. So yes, Lockwood, I would hate it if you were dead. Who else am I going to butt heads and dream about making out with?"

Lockwood sat up, suddenly very interested. "Relax, it was a joke, just trying to breathe some life back into you. There, you're all done."

He fidgeted, looking down at the blood bleeding through the thick layers of the gauze bound almost a little too tightly to his palm. In the pale yet weak light of the ghost lamp, he suddenly seemed years younger, someone just like her. Someone who may have been a rival, but first and foremost, was an equal. She felt this sudden pang inside her heart. She dropped her voice, as if saying it a little louder would make her feelings for Lockwood all the more real.

"I didn't mean, what I said, earlier." Lockwood waited for her to continue. She had said a lot earlier. "About you being...destructive. I guess I was just furious that you had me a wreck when you weren't even trying all that hard. I'm such a mess, Lockwood, you have no idea. My dagger?" she pulled it out with some difficulty, wiping away the grime on it with her sleeve, her bloody face staring back at her. "It's just because I suck at using a rapier. I'm not even middling, I suck so bad it's not even funny. Stop!" Lockwood's mouth was twitching at the corners and when she finally looked up, looking like a cat left out in the rain, all because she couldn't handle a rapier, he lost it. "You know, you wouldn't be laughing like this if you actually saw me-" That just made him laugh even harder. She shook her head, waiting for him to finish.

"Y/N," he began, once he was done laughing. "You really are better than any medicine." He interlocked his fingers with her, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "You can't handle a rapier yet, so what? I'll teach you. And then you'd need loads and loads of practice before you could get anywhere as good as me."

"I'm not done." He threw his head back dramatically. "I have a list!"

"Of course you do."

"I heard that." There was something infectious about his teasing smile, but its warmth was fading fast as she unpacked a memory she had shoved into the corner of her mind. She didn't like thinking about it too much, it made her too hopeless. Even now, she felt waves of despair crashing over her. "I didn't mean to fly at you like that earlier. It's just, my mum's been ghost-locked for a few months, and I'm not having the easiest time dealing with it."

She felt Lockwood still next to her, hating yet craving his sympathy. It had been so hard to wake up each morning, put on her suit, and go about her life while fighting the very real fear of never speaking to her mother again. It was like a long, drawn-out death that repeated every day. He wordlessly pulled her in as she sobbed into his chest, unravelling at the seams. If it was anyone else, she would have been mortified, but with Lockwood...it was different. It always had been.

"I understand," he murmured into her hair, "my sister was Ghost-touched in front of me. "If I had cared a little more...she might still be alive today."

That just made her sob even harder. How did he stand it, her hurling every insult in the book at him, when she didn't know the first thing about him? She don't know how long she cried, long enough to release months' worth of pent up grief, but Lockwood didn't show a single sign of wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around him as she calmed down. She never wanted to let go of him.

"I never thought you were beneath me." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You own a property in central London, for God's sake."

"Not much else, mind you."

"If anything, I would have thought myself beneath you." She finally peeled her face off his shirt to see him raising his eyebrows with mock innocence, and she nearly shoved him off the bench. "Gosh, not like that. You're like a walking...sex...maniac. Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Most definitely." She groaned, but for the first time, she allowed herself to laugh too.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on me."

"Lucky for you, I don't know better, and I can say I do." They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first respite in what had been a very chaotic night.

"I still can't believe Irene's been Ghost-locked."

"Irene? Have you been...corresponding with my mother?" Lockwood shifted awkwardly, jerking his head up.

"Do you hear that? Is that Barnes?"

"Lockwood."

"Yes, that's most definitely Barnes."

"Barnes isn't even here! Lockwood. Lockwood!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was sitting in the waiting room outside Barnes' office. It was morning now, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth. She had already given her account of the events while Lockwood was being stitched up by the paramedics, and now she was waiting for him to finish his report after her head was bandaged up.

The door opened with a soft click, and Lockwood stepped out wearily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as well. He smiled weakly. Even after a long night she sat with perfect posture, legs crossed neatly, looking the paradigm of innocence with hair gleaming like honey in the sunrise. It was maddening to Lockwood. He could never get enough of her little intricacies.

"You have no idea how much I've hated your necktie. It distracts me so."

"It's not a necktie, it's just a tie. You'd know that if you weren't so pretentious."

She grinned, reeling him in by his tie, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, walking out of the waiting room where the rest of her team was waiting.

They had discussed it on the way to DEPRAC's headquarters. The papers would have a field day if they caught wind of their relationship, and they would spin it and twist it in every which way. The less negative press they got, the better.

"I'd lose my job."

"Come work for me."

"Does your insurance cover ghost-lock of family members?"

Lockwood swore.

Now, he reluctantly followed her out, where George and Lucy celebrated him being in one piece. They turned to leave when she spoke up across the lobby.

"Lockwood."

Both agencies froze, watching uncertainly. George hopefully wandered towards the fire extinguisher. "I'd absolutely hate it if I needed your agency's help on our next case."

"I'd hate it even more."

"Good to see we're on the same page. Fingers crossed I never see you again."

She quirked the corner of her mouth, and Lockwood had to purse his lips to keep from smiling. Lucy looked back and forth, as confused as she was at the beginning of the case, turning to George.

"What was that about?" George groaned.

"Never mind that, you have no idea how much money I've lost..."

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #I can see you #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #from the vault #requested

[66sharkteeth]

WEEKLY THOUGHTS ON THIS WEEK'S EPISODE! Though tbh I think I covered a chunk of it last week-

This Claude arc has been some of the writing I'm most proud of in the entire comic, and I'm so happy other people are enjoying it too. Seeing Claude go from the series' punching bag to someone seemingly everyone's screaming over and pitying really feels like an accomplishment to me and I'm so glad even the people who don't love Claude are at least sympathizing with him (the vast majority anyway). Also shout out to Claude's leg for increasing my FP sales. I can't express enough how much my FP revenue's been impacted ever since the return. I got literally less than half of my usual income this month (when I needed it most lol) but the FP numbers *almost* returned to their old average this week, so thanks everyone who fast passed to see the fate of Claude's leg lol.

This is one of those episodes that was a long time coming and I have some kind of strong feelings about it. I've been planning to lop of his leg since high school, but I did admittedly start to get a pit in my stomach the closer it got. By the time these episodes publish, I'm usually over it and laughing to cope (see above), but I hope at least a few people were as disturbed as I was writing it. Which...I know sounds mean, but I really admire media that can get that feeling out of me (without going over the top and scarring me) and it's something I hope I can achieve too. Some of the most important pieces of media that influenced me growing up (FMA, some animations that inspired CoB, Paranoia Agent, etc), really gave me a gut-sinking level of disturbance as a kid, but boy I'm glad I saw them because they sure made an impact in a way that I think made me a stronger writer, and that's one of those things I hope I can achieve.

Anyway, to address a few points I'm seeing throughout the comments- 1. Jericho's reaction. I left it kind of vague on purpose. I have no comment on it and just leave you guys to speculate on how he will react or encourage you to FP to find out (sob please).

2. people legitimately criticizing joking about claude's leg. which is interesting to me. obv there's a lot of jokes and leg puns throughout the comments, and soooometimes I don't like that when a very serious episode's comment section is filled w/ nothing but jokes, buuut there are also enough real comments of concern and speculations and analysis of the ep that i really, really don't mind some leg jokes and puns, personally. like...as you can tell from the image above, even I'm not above making them. To the people who think it's actually fucked up for us to joke about this scene... I dunno. I personally laugh to cope, and I think a lot of other people are doing the same. I don't think anyone's literally going "LOL HE'S SO DEPRESSED HE MUTILATED HIMSELF," I think its just...funny leg puns to make a dark situation a little lighter. At least for the most part. I'm certainly not above joking about it, but as you'll see in the next episode, I'm also obviously taking it seriously and don't plan to make Claude such a butt of jokes now that he's reached this point. That would just be in bad taste. But... I think a leg pun here and there is still in line.

#weekly thoughts #had a lot to say about this one #city of blank #claude #jericho

[perotovar]

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ezra prospect fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus moreno fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord fanfiction #javi gutierrez fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #swfe #recs #fics

[estelofrivendell]

Could you please write something about Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir with a short s/o who's a little bit insecure about their height? Bonus points if the reader isn't very curvy so they worry about being unattractive or mistaken for being younger than they actually are. Thanks!! It's so nice to see people writing for lotr still, so thank you for that!!!

A/N: People no longer write for LOTR? That's really unfortunate, this world has a lot of things to write about :( Truth be told, I haven't written for LOTR in three years (three years is a long time and I recognize fandoms change rapidly) and I've been suffering writers' block for two years after I wrote a lengthy series for another fandom. I hope you enjoy this, thank you for your request!

ARAGORN, LEGOLAS AND BOROMIR WITH A SHORT S/O WHO LOOKS YOUNGER THAN THEY REALLY ARE AND IS INSECURE ABOUT THEIR HEIGHT AND FRAME

ARAGORN

It doesn't matter to him one bit that you're short and your body may not resemble what society deems "perfect", he will be the first to tell you you're beautiful the way you are. In fact, he finds your height endearing, since he's tall himself, even more so in the books. It's unique to him as he grew up with tall people but at the same time it's not a new concept to him since there are many short people in all the areas he's wandered in and encountered Hobbits before the timeline of LOTR (Did he? Not sure, don't really feel like fact checking that rn...) Also, he has his own experiences with not looking the age he really is, just the opposite of yours. This man is in his 80s but looks late 30s to early 40s and was raised his elves who never age, so it would not bother him one bit that you look younger than you really are.

LEGOLAS

Legolas is an elf, so it never crossed his mind that you look younger than you really are. I also think elves aren't as worked up about body image the same way us humans are, so he doesn't think about that either. At first, he was confused why you're insecure about those features but he will do his best to make you feel better, even if what he says comes off a bit insensitive. What catches his interest is your short height and at first he teases you the way he teased Gimli, but he quickly noticed how you don't respond well to those kinds of banter, so he stopped. Overall, he has some learning to do but he will become better for you and he's grateful for it and makes him appreciate people not of his kind.

BOROMIR

Not going to lie, I see Boromir as the kind of man that prefers his women taller so it might've amused him a bit when he first learned of his attraction to you. He thinks the height difference between you both is really cute and teases you a bit about it. He does not give a flying fuck that you aren't curvy and WILL call out anyone that has the audacity to give you shit about your body. Some people might give him dirty looks for picking a younger S/O to court instead of a lovely woman within his age range and he simply ignores them unless it somehow escalates into a major scandal. He doesn't realize that being seen younger than you really are affects you immensely, but when he does, he'll get right on reassuring you that there is nothing to worry about. Are you what he expected he would end up with? No, but he loves you more than anyone and anything and he would not have it any other way.

#lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader #legolas imagine #legolas x reader #boromir x reader #boromir imagine

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Palomino Masterlist

COMPLETE | Explicit 🔞 NO minors allowed

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Series tags: Dude ranch cowboy Jack AU | mini-series | solo travel romance | lots of horsey details | self-indulgent AF | set in Wyoming | no physical descriptions of Reader

Note: You guys voted for Palomino to be the next WIP after Consent, and who am I to refuse? But honestly, thank you for voting for Jack, because I've been dying to write this story. If you'd like to be tagged, please comment, reblog or sign up at my taglist.

Part 1: Palomino

Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Part 2: Buckskin

It's an eventful first day on the trail, to say the least.

Part 3: Dapple Grey

Tinder is a dangerous game. So is Never Have I Ever.

Part 4: Strawberry Roan

Jack pulls out all the stops for your birthday. All of them.

Part 5: Appaloosa

You and Jack play house for a day.

Part 6: Mustang

On the fifth day, you leave the Halfway House behind, and the conversation turns homeward.

Part 7: Fleabitten

You and Jack spend your last night together in the mountains - for now.

Part 8: Silver Pony

And just like that, your week at the Statesman Ranch comes to an end, leaving you grappling with the prospect of saying goodbye to Jack.

Part 9: Warmblood

The hardest goodbye you’ll ever say.

Oneshots & drabbles

Deleted scenes from the series that I didn't have the word count for.

Bernaise: You watch Jack cook. Deleted scene from Part 4 - Strawberry Roan.

If Only: Jack smiles and brushes a thumb across your cheek. If only you knew.

Peeks into Jack and Darlin's life after the end of the series.

Pressing: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Real: You call Jack after running into your ex at a wedding.

Cowgirl Aesthetics: 'This dress won't last ten minutes in a real horse yard and you know it, darlin''.'

Headcanons

Miscellaneous headcanons - some requested, some no one asked for.

Silver Pony | Jack’s moustache | Jack and horses | Jack's guilty pleasures | Jack is king of the two step | Jack's allergies | Teak the artist

Visuals

Mostly made/commissioned for A Palomino Farewell.

Special edition chapter banners

Horses of Palomino

Palominogram: About last night

Palominogram: The cellar

Commissioned art

Belt buckle inspiration

Moodboard: Buckskin

Moodboard: Palomino

Horse girl representation

Recipes

Mama Daniels' express chili: featured in Fleabitten

Poppy's chocolate & rum cupcakes: featured in Strawberry Roan

Chapter sneak peeks: two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

Bonus content

Art and misc. generously gifted by my sweetest friends ❤️

A Palomino Farewell

Palomino playlist

A birthday message from cowboy Jack and Cowboy yearning by the most talented @guiltypleasure-art

Palomino edit by the loveliest Heidi @wildemaven

Moodboard by the sweetest Keira @k-ra

Playlist by sweetest Sil @psychedelic-ink for A Palomino Farewell

Palomino-inspired cocktail recipe by darlin' Skye @iamskyereads

I can't believe that Palomino now has its own cocktail!!! I'm so honoured that Skye created and shared this recipe with us. All the elements are perfect, from the Campfire whiskey (Darlin's favourite time of the day - snuggling with Jack by the fire), apple (If Only reference) and Ginger (who convinced Darlin' not to cancel the trip). I cannot wait to try this cocktail myself, thank you so so much my love ❤️

More notes: This is a very personal story to me as I grew up loving and riding horses. I've been lucky enough to go on several horseriding holidays, and I'm writing directly from experience - except the hot cowboy part, sadly. Even if you don't ride, I hope you enjoy this story, and I will be the happiest writer if I impart to you even a fraction of the joy of exploring the great outdoors from the back of a steady (or speedy) steed.

{ Inspo }

{ Main Masterlist | Taglist }

#kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #jack daniels AU

[randomfoggytiger]

"Proving" Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby

(Had to get this out before the next part of Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma series; so... here we go~!)

Mulder knew he was the father of Scully's baby before Three Words began; and his reticence had everything to do with his PTSD, guilt, and fear and nothing to do with feeling replaced by his partner's child. His ending monologue in Existence further proves this, concluding Mulder's emotional turbulence: "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both knew."

But how is that to be proven?

Cutting Out Context to Bait the Mystery

According to the script (uploaded here by @x-files-scripts, thank you~), Scully very casually mentions how far along she is separate from her concerns about (and to) Mulder. Mulder doesn't react to this information at all, meaning whatever his reticence and withdrawal were rooted in had nothing to do with feeling replaced as the father of her child.

Throughout their conversation, Mulder tries to keep Scully from digging deeper into his emotions or trauma, deflecting with humor or emotional separation. Scully finally directly addresses his distance; and (though a bit out-of-order from how it aired), the scene below makes two things very obvious:

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cutting her off) -- whatever you're going to say, Scully, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold. Or ungrateful to you.

SCULLY: I don't know if you can truly understand what it was like.... And now to get you back....

MULDER manages a smile, finally. But only barely.

MULDER: You act like you're surprised.

Scully manages a chuckle, but she's truly worried about him.

SCULLY: I prayed so many nights. And my prayers were answered, Mulder.

MULDER: In more ways than one.

MULDER looks to Scully's stomach. Which she touches.

SCULLY: Yes.

MULDER: I'm so truly happy for you. I know what it means to you --

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cuts her off again) -- but I'm having trouble processing any of this. I don't know why I'm here, or where I fit in anymore. I feel strange. Like this can't be happening.

SCULLY nods. Anything she had wanted to tell him will wait.

SCULLY: That's what I've been saying to myself for the last eight months.

What Scully "had wanted to tell him" had nothing to do with her child's paternity nor was that even a concern because she, as mentioned above, says "the last eight months" effortlessly. (An important note: because they kept no show bible, the writers forgot Mulder was missing three months and buried another three; but the intent behind that line is the same even if there isn't or wasn't a numbers problem to quibble over.)

"The last eight months" comes at the tail end of the conversation without a remark or quip from Mulder's perspective, meaning this wasn't news enough for him to comment on or even react to. Scully's statement bookended their discussion, meaning she wasn't drawing it out longer or forcing information down Mulder's throat that he wasn't ready to process. Since that is the case, both knew the problem wasn't her pregnancy (though it was a stressful factor) but was another, bigger concern.

Devil's advocate: Scully was trying to tell Mulder the baby was his-- Gillian Anderson's expressions debunk this theory, but we'll press on-- and the months referred to was how long Mulder was "gone": in which case, Scully being hugely pregnant would have been a huge tip off for her partner regardless; and Mulder, for as much as he is avoiding the obvious this episode, is not stupid.

By cutting up the script-- taking out important context and removing crucial lines-- the audience is left to speculate on information that what was intended to be understated yet obvious (though unconfirmed until the finale episodes.) Chris Carter and Spotnitz have already stated they'd baited Scully's pregnancy as much as they could (one such interview here, credit to @babygirlmulder1018 for the upload~) while always planning for Mulder to be the father. The problem with their method is that they sacrificed necessary clarity for ambiguity, leaving the actors to scramble or fill in the butchered gaps as much as they could with implied body language. Three Words Mulder's affectionate, though fleeting, glances at Scully's belly or Scully's heightening worry for his well-being are debatable clues, all dependent on the viewer's interpretation (even when rewatched with hindsight.) The key to any good mystery is to have all the puzzle pieces in place so that it makes sense when you go back and see them all line up. Cutting out important clues early just to bait the mystery is foolhardy, especially when those gaps are never filled-in with any answers; and The X-Files show, while built around unsolved or unresolved mysteries, always provided a likely explanation (even if that explanation was later revealed to not be entirely true.) It's a shame that this premediated action thoughtlessly skewed the reading of the scene so badly that it took away from its original intent-- Scully's worries over her partner as he becomes more and more lost in his trauma-- and turned it widely into a "bet he's jealous or feels left behind because Scully moved on without him" interpretation, muddying it for viewers over the decades to come.

It's not the first time a script has been stripped of its original intent to fit the vision of the showrunners (often to the frustration to the various writers, actors, directors, etc.); but there is a marked difference between the tampering done to, for example, David Duchovny's personal ideas and scripts in keeping with the mythos of the show (Cinefantastique: David Duchovny on "The Unnatural" and "Hollywood A.D.") and specifically removing an important piece of dialogue to intentionally blur a scene for "the mystery" without that action serving any goal other than obfuscation... and, ultimately, confusion.

Mulder Himself Proves He Knew

According to the script, Scully's concerns started in her partner's hospital room when Mulder's non-reaction snags her notice twice in a row:

"His reaction is so underwhelming that Scully has to laugh" and

"The doctor has to chuckle, looking to Scully. But Scully isn't humored now. She reads something in Mulder past the humor. And Mulder catches her sensing it. That he is deeply troubled."

"Mulder catches her sensing it" is a crucial piece of information, smoothly setting up the scene at his apartment-- Mulder doesn't ice Scully out (always responding to her pleas with mustered up but equal sympathy and sorrow) but he avoids her eyes as much as possible, not wanting to be read, to be "exposed." THAT is what concerns Scully-- never before in their partnership has he evaded eye contact, likely seeking it more often than any other person on the planet. But Mulder (also likely more than anyone) knows that eyes are the window to the soul; and he doesn't want his bared yet.

The tricky part of the ensuing scenes is not to mistake his avoidance of Scully's detection with his avoidance of the baby. Mulder is avoiding everything equally-- but he will still spare a moment for his partner or his baby here and there before snatching away his focus again, dodging any opportunity that might lead to vulnerability.

At his apartment, Mulder turns aside whenever he can or spreads a plaster-fake grin on his face when in conversation;

but it melts into sincerity after he finally acknowledges the baby in the room. It's not quite happiness, but it is a form of contentment and a little pride (similar to his look on the couch in Empedocles.)

When Scully wants to commit anarchy over Kersh's tyrannical terms, Mulder squashes that impulse flat, sparing a strained but still sincere smile as he directs her attention to the pragmatic fact of her baby.

(It's not until "Agent Who?" comes across Mulder's radar that he starts to stiffen against Scully's reticence. Again, not about the baby.)

The last significant mention of Scully's pregnancy is in her kitchen at her apartment. TLG drop in to do their research... and to refocus Mulder on his impending miracle ("a certain blessed event") and away from his crazy mission. Mulder's amused at first with their commentary (as is Scully), giving an exaggeratedly suspicious, comedic squint (which Scully follows up with a witty repartee on his investigative methods)--

until he figures out his partner's ulterior machinations. (The tensions that trail them both the rest of the episode are because of Scully's interferences and not-- again-- because of the baby.)

Those are the only direct references to the baby in Three Words, although Scully does tag along on his madcap mission with TLG); and Empedocles starts out in the spirit of the kitchen scene above-- Mulder squinting about the pizza man, ribbing Scully lightly, and enjoying getting ribbed in return-- but with the added bonus of some unfiltered, heartfelt moments of a man fully embracing fatherhood.

So why, if the original intent of the struggle of Three Words wasn't about the paternity question, does Mulder still struggle with doubts the rest of the series. Well... what were his paternity doubts?

Paternity Doubts

Mulder knew (logically) that his partner wouldn't run into the arms of another man or through the doors of the nearest IVF clinic just because he was chucked six feet under; but that reassurance gave him nothing to stand firmly on since both of their lives revolved around clones, aliens, and even a little girl that was born (and died) to serve an agenda.

Scully had been used over and over against her consent and was ultimately stripped of her fertility; and even though Mulder once said "never give up on a miracle", the IVF had failed, and there had been months of regular extracurricular activities since without even a thought of a baby on either of their radars. But somehow, the minute he vanishes off the planet, she finds out she's pregnant? The exact same somehow he was abducted and somehow returned and somehow resurrected? It doesn't add up; and Mulder's motto has always been "I want to believe."

"I have the same doubts you do, Scully," he said in the Pilot; and those doubts haunt him in Three Words; and (although they are temporarily set aside during the off-screen conversation Mulder has with his partner before Empedocles) they remain, along with his fears, buried under the surface-- as demonstrated by his opening monologue in Essence: "Is it the product of a union? Or... an answer to prayer-- a true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? What do I tell myself?"

Furthermore, the events of Essence and Existence make a bit (only a bit) more sense if those events-- Zeus Genetics, Billy Miles, Lizzie Gill, Krycek, the Super soldiers, and other such nonsense-- are put through another lens: trauma.

The Other, Bigger Concern

If Mulder knew the baby was his, why did he distance himself?

Simply put, PTSD.

Three Words very specifically chooses Mulder's flashbacks as his first scene (post here), providing motive to any future decision he makes. Being torn apart for three months and buried another three before being resurrected on a chance is a lot to grapple with; add in a pregnant partner who is clearly expecting a miraculous baby amidst a set of tragically unmiraculous events and looking to her recently resurrected partner for not only their old relationship but more and you get a PTSD-riddled, paranoid, and very panicked Fox Mulder.

Empedocles begins after the aforementioned off-screen conversation; and quite plainly establishes Mulder in his new paternal role, bringing Scully (and the baby) gifts like he has any other significant moment in their relationship (and also because it's no longer acceptable to bring triumphant caveman hunting trophies back to the domestic den.) This episode not only goes out of its way to give him a first-time "feeling his baby move" scene, but further cements Mulder's role by showing him standing sentry outside of Scully's door, doting on her hand and foot back at her apartment, and including their baby nonverbally in Scully's gratitude speech. These benchmark moments are then followed up by him briefly forgetting his baby in Vienen, not wanting to leave its side in Alone, and cycling back to his paternity worries in Essence-- further proof that his initial distance and on-again-off-again dance is rooted firmly in trauma rearing its ugly head to continually mess up his temporary peace.

That trauma follows him (mostly unacknowledged) the rest of Season 8, coming to a head (and exploding) during the events of Essence and Existence. When his security in Scully's science and himself are completely eroded, Mulder is left blindly grappling for any explanation from any nearest and newest source currently in front of him (handing off Scully to his sworn enemy should have been the tip-off point to both she and Skinner, prompting them to put a stop to his spiraling before doing anything else... but I digress.) His hot-and-cold attitude is back (referring to their child as "your baby") even though his fiercely protective love and interest hasn't faded one bit ("will do anything to protect it.")

Deep down, Mulder always knew (or at least hoped) the baby was his-- "the truth we both know," after all.

So, What Does This Mean?

Probably nothing in the grand scheme of things, but a rippling domino effect in the minutiae. It explains Mulder's distant-then-doting attitude, the manifestation of his PTSD and impending parenthood, and even why he was happy to have Scully firmly glued by his side throughout Three Words (even if he couldn't meet her eyes at times.) Scully's pregnancy was a change for both: almost overnight she needed more from their relationship. However, once she realized how displaced and harried Mulder was, Scully relaxed the pace for both of them (off-screen...), allowing Mulder to finally recover, regroup, and continue on. Once that understanding was reached (again: off-screen), Mulder started to take his journey more gently (upsetting and resettling himself whenever Scully's health scares or his impulsive actions blasted him up, down, and sideways) while Scully refigured how to fit their new normal into the life she built in his absence. Like always, teamwork and their unspoken; and, overall, it makes Season 8's there-and-gone-again MSR bits that much more in-character and enjoyable.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #meta #xf meta #Mulder #S8 #“Proving” Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby #Scully #Deadalive #Three Words #Essence #Existence #Empedocles #x-files #xfiles #the x files #mine #dailytxf #xf30th #analysis

[saltydkdan]

Are the JoJo's icebergs fun to work on? They look like a blast to edit and write! (If a bit of a large workload)

The Jojo Iceberg has been... interesting. On one hand yes! It has been a blast to work on in some senses! It taught me a lot about writing, and research, while also allowing me the freedom to experiment with editing and injecting my humor into scripted stuff in a more organic way. I feel like with each chunk of the series I've posted thus far, I've shown more and more confidence over time.

Plus you are right!! Once the audio editing is done, working on visual edits and gags is a blast. Sure it takes time, but I have a weird love for making smooth video edits for people to watch (even though like 50% of the people that view those videos probably just listen to em like a podcast without looking at it haha).

So that sort of stuff, yes! That's been a blast, and I've learned a TON that I'd never take back for the world!

However on the flipside, logistically this project was a nightmare from day one LOL. And this is the part where I try to dissuade anyone from EVER working on a longer project like this because god damn it's been a pain at times.

Keep in mind, the script (as it stands) is nearly 200 pages. That is the longest scripted work I've ever helped write in my entire life, and when I started I was NOT that experienced as a writer whatsoever. I'm a bit better now, but at times I still struggle.

I made the horrible decision to never put a cap on the script. For every new fact I learned, even if it wasn't a part of the original plans for the video, I would add it to the pile. No matter what it was. I was committed to making it as long as I thought it needed to be, not as long as it probably SHOULD have been to get done in a reasonable amount of time.

I did all this for a deep passion for the source material, and even after the final part comes out early this year, I plan on going back and correcting the very few mistakes or miswordings I had in the original videos when I put them all together in one MEGA video.

But that passion for Jojo is a blessing and a curse, and I hadn't realized how long a project like this would take me amidst all the other big projects like Friendlocke and HYHA.

Full disclosure, the script was first started in December of 2020. That's nearly 3-4 YEARS AGO by now. If I knew that putting all this together would take that long, I probably wouldn't have committed to it in the way that I did. In that time, I probably could have put out a TON of shorter stuff, but I was so committed to this that I just didn't and that very much hurt my channel in the long term.

Though to be real, I haven't worked on it consistently, I tend to jump on and off between projects to avoid burnout. However still, by the time it's all done, the Jojo Iceberg combined together will most likely be the longest piece of content on my channel (yes, potentially longer than Friendlocke Season 3, I estimate that it'll probably come out to around 6 hours in length if I don't cut anything down).

It's because of this that after this is all out there? I plan to NEVER tackle something this long ever again. Friendlocke and Jojo have drained my bones, and all I wanna do these days is work on shorter stuff. Though I guess in that sense, this project has really helped teach me a lot about the sort of stuff I want to make. So in a way, even the negatives have positives! There's always something you can take away with, even if your experience had some downsides.

Looking at such a long script and doing some math, it's made me realize that like... damn. I could DEFINITELY do shorter videos way more consistently in the future. And so that's what I plan to do :)

So yeah! Some positives and negatives. But overall, I learned a lot and that's all I could ever ask for.

Thanks for your question! Have a good one!

#saltydkdan #salty asks #jojos bizarre adventure

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hi, I wanted to say first that I love your blog, thank you for modding it!!

As for my question, it's this: I have written my fair amount of fanfiction, but it's always been one-shots, and normally quite short (my longest fic right now is 11K, and my mean length is probably 5K). But now I've decided to give a longfic a shot, because I have a plot idea that I really like and that I want to expand on.

But that means that for the first time I'm having to deal with a plot that has to make sense, and delayed gratification (normally it never takes more than a month between starting to write and posting). And I'm having issues with motivation and focus. The fact that it has been a month and I haven't finished the setup is eating away on my will to write.

Any advice??

First of all, congratulations on having such a big idea! That's very exciting indeed :)

When it comes to writing out a big idea, you have more than just one option in front of you. If you want to write it all out as one long story, you can definitely do that. But you also have the option of writing it out as a series of shorter stories. This might be useful if your current way of writing works best with shorter works.

Another thing to consider is not writing all of it. What I mean by that is, how much of the set up is necessary from the reader's perspective and how much of it is you solidifying your own ideas for yourself ahead of digging into the plot? If writing the set up is something that you enjoy, then by all means go right ahead. But if you're just doing it because you think you have to, then skip it. A lot of the heavy lifting can be done with your summary and tags and even an author's note if you want to go that route and a lot can be left unsaid or revealed as you write the out your plot.

If you want to write one big story, then staying motivated will definitely be a factor and something that will depend on where you get your motivation from. If you need support from your community, then I recommend posting snippets (for example, on Six Sentence Sunday or WIP Wednesday).

If you get energy from discussing your story with others, then get a cheer reader or two from amongst your friends - people who can read it when it's still a draft and have those conversations with you.

If you're more motivated by metrics, then give yourself celebrations for completing chapters, hitting specific word count goals, or getting in a solid chunk of writing time during the week.

And no matter what, I really recommend celebrating when you write a line or a scene that gets an emotional reaction out of you. If you manage to make yourself laugh or cry or experience heartache or rage, then enjoy that moment and record it in some way. Possibly with a journal entry (if you're a journalling type) or by selecting a quote and creating a graphic for it. Or even just by writing it out by hand on nice paper or recording it in a voice note. Treasure that moment and it can really help to keep you going.

This is getting long despite me generally being a short writer myself lol, so I'll pass it off to others. How do you stay motivated and keep writing when you're in the midst of a long fic and haven't started posting yet? What tips can you share?

#asks and answers

[lcngdays]

Positivity anon here! Could I ask you to shout out to your five fave blogs? Just to make someone smile today and let them know you love their blog! Maybe even say a little about why!

Hello Beloved Positivity Anon! Sorry for the late reply, I don't get much done during the week, but the weekend is where I thrive! Now, it's hard to pick JUST FIVE FAVES. So I may have included a few more <3

@plcasantnights // While Corpse isn't active on tumblr anymore, he's still my absolute best friend ever. I love him with my whole heart and we've written countless stories together, we've met irl multiple times, and I just. Don't have enough good to say about this man. An incredible writer, a patient and understanding person, and someone I trust with my whole, authentic self. Long days and pleasant nights, bestie. <3

@cxldblxxded / @yxkanna / @striigon // MOOP!!! A very cool writer with a very keen sense of character creation. I love reading about their silly little guys and I love talking with them ooc! I feel like I can throw any must at them from my EXTENSIVE roster and they're down for it, no matter how silly it is!

@handgiven // WHAT IS THERE TO SAY ABOUT KAI!!!!! emmanuel is SO sweet and SO precious and I hold him so dear in my heart. One of the few characters that can put up with my more annoying characters with a smile on his face, the way Kai is able to write such a beautiful, well thought out angel is incredible. I love reading the eloquence of Emmanuel and love seeing everything Kai puts on the dash

@fangmother // HI HUNTER HI HUNTER!!!! hunter is so fucking cool you guys. they have the coolest posts both ic and ooc and i light up each time they come on the dash with anything new. rainer is so cringefail girlboss and i don't care how many times hunter tells me i'm wrong to love her, i'm still GOING TO!!!

@freekzout / @hungryyheart // VIV MAKES ME NOSTALGIC FOR THE NINTIES AND I WAS BORN IN 1997 SO THAT'S WILD!!! everything about the worlds that Viv has created makes me insane. be it cute little vampiis or straight up government coverups viv is SO creative and so nice ooc! puts up with me even though i forget to answer dms a million percent of the time!! ALSO PUTS UP WITH ANGEL SO A HUGE PLUS RIGHT THERE

@burdenedwithfaith // every day it makes me insane that Prince isn't more popular on tumblr. i don't know anything about the series their character is from and yet and YET I am so so so INVESTED with him! I'm so invested with each little character moment and arc and I love writing with them to see where they're going to take it and take John!! even if you don't know the game their muse is from I highly encourage you to check them out because they're EPIC

@soulmissed // I haven't written a lot with Ruben (YET) but his character is SO well written. Ruben also always pops into my dms when I make a sad/venty post and checks on me and he has no idea how MUCH i appreciate that so i'm saying it here. thank you <3

@mr-pulvis // Ruth. Oh Ruth!!!!!! Ruth has known me since the beginning. Since I STARTED on tumblr! They have followed me through countless blogs, countless cringe, countless silliness and revamping and bad writing. I love Miles to death, I've always loved Miles, but Ruth doesn't get enough credit (from me at least!) for how cool and nice they are and how good of a writer they are. here's to many MORE years of knowing each other!!!

@pistolsister + many more blogs in their pinned! // Even though we've followed each other for a long time, we've only JUST started writing together. AND I HAVEN'T EVEN FULLY RESPONDED TO ANYTHING YET I DON'T THINK IT'S ALL IN THE QUEUE! but mille is very cool, very easy to bounce ideas off of and i love each and every one of their characters. SO well thought out, SO easy to write against and just a sweet person over all!

@wehavefoundthestars // EVE!!!! I LOVE OUR SLOWBURN BOYS!!!! But I also love writing with them with ANY of my characters! we're always in each other's dms after each response excitedly chatting away! a very fun person to write with and be around!

@lovepurposed // hi orion :3 orion and I are also a duo who have known each other for a long while. not as long as some of the people on this list, but we've always seemed to find each other on tumblr some way and some how, despite moving blogs or just falling out of certain fandoms. orion is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, and I'm looking forward to writing with orion for a long, long time to come.

@amischiefofmuses // NEVER DID I EVER EXPECT TO FIND SOMEONE IN SO MANY OF THE SAME FANDOMS AS ME. homestuck, invader zim, undertale, hazbin, you NAME it we have it in common. magpie is SO fun to write with, and i think they're just RLLY COOL NGL AND SUCH A GOOD WRITER

@spokewar // MARCI!!!!! so good at writing it makes me insane that they even write WITH me. i followed them originally with sass and their sam winchester but things just blossomed from there into an epic scifi adventure with a little alien prince and obi-wan (AND I HAVENT EVEN SEEN STAR WARS LMAO) marci is super cool and super fun to be around and is a very comforting presence when i get worried about wanting to do something new!

@dumbthink // KC i have followed all over tumblr. i love writing with them, i love all the stories they create, i LOVE all their silly little characters and how well they can analyze LITERALLY ANYTHING!!!!

HONORABLE MENTIONS!!!!!

@null-siren / @honeyhogger / @notsohumerusnow / @badmusejail : THE UNDERTALE CREW!!!!! I write with them mostly on my undertale rp blog but i wanted to give all of them a HUGE SHOUT OUT for being so cool and friendly and fun to write with, even though i'm VERY SLOW over on my undertale blog!!!

@bittcnneck / @r-adio / @bloodsalted / @velvetineblue / @swervdcity / @rcjoice / @deceivesthem / @starbeambully / @ourcwnside / @beastbitten / @heaven-said / @thehazbins / @vitalphenomena / @captivates / @ruinedmyself / @miidnighters / @lcve0n / @hellfrozen / + ALL MY LOVELY MUTUAL!!!! // I LOVE ALL MY MUTUAL I LOVE ALL MY WRITING FRIENDS AND I WANT TO GIVE YOU ALL A HUGE HUG AND AWWWWAAA !!!! i could never name everyone unfortunately, but everyone here is a great writer and friend and i'm happy to be hanging out with all of them even if we've only JUST started talking or writing together!!!

#ooc #long post cw #if you didn't make the list it doesn't mean i don't love you btw #i love everyone who i follow and write with #<3333!!!!! #everyone be good to yourselves and keep writing. i love you and am so glad to have gotten this ask so i can spread some joy #i wish i could be here more and write more but being an adult is hard #so i cherish each and every moment i have with all of you

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective II

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Non-con drug use & touching, kidnapping, gags.

— WORDS: 3k

— A/N: Thank you for your support! 💗💗💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Dinner

After nearly two weeks of exhaustive research, seeking additional evidence, and hints to challenge Bateman in their impending meeting, Andrea had finally reached the day of their scheduled dinner—an opportunity to probe deeper with her questions. 

Indeed, it had been a testing period for Andrea, as her sleep was sporadic, and her mind was in overdrive, driven by the conviction that Bateman was hiding his true self. Even after numerous discussions with Kimball, her suspicions had only intensified. Amid this, Andrea began to exhibit subtle behavioral changes, ones that even her boyfriend Derek picked up on. However, she reassured him, attributing it to her work pressure.

'Was it?'

When Andrea arrived at the restaurant, Bateman was waiting for her outside. New York looked amazing in the dark time and it suited Patrick so much that the detective just stood aside and admired him for a moment. 

"Mr. Bateman! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!" The brunette chirped as she came closer. Her cheap coat was not warm and the dress was even cheaper, but this was the best dress she had, since she hated this kind of clothes.

"It's no problem." For once, the man was being honest, because he had made some preparations. 

First of all, he had chosen a cheap restaurant, the kind of place where he or any of his colleagues wouldn't be seen under normal circumstances.  Cheap by his elitist standards, of course. 'My lovely detective would be embarrassed by the price list anyway.' 

Second, Patrick had called the restaurant himself instead of Jean, giving him the opportunity to place the reservation under an alias. This was also the reason why he had arrived early, when he usually preferred to have his dates wait for him. Now 'Mr. Thompson' had already checked in and the detective would never hear about the false name. This time, Patrick really wanted to make sure that his presence in this place would be impossible for Kimball or anyone else to verify. He wanted to erase this date from Jean's notes as well. 

In his pockets was Rohypnol, ground to powder. A drug so strong she wouldn't even notice her way back to his apartment. But he wouldn't do anything to her until she wasn't fully conscious again, no. He wanted her to be so terribly aware of her situation.

Observing the woman who sat unsuspecting before him, Patrick took in the details of her attire. Her dress, which stirred a wave of disdain in him, and her shoes, of mock leather that rankled his senses, were noted with a critic's eye. Despite his distaste for her choices, a sense of unsettling calm washed over Patrick with the forethought of what was to come. Each element of her visage kindled within him an uncomfortable response, a feeling he grappled to understand, even as he plotted its demise.

"I've already checked our table, it has a very atmospheric placement. Let's go inside, shall we?"

The atmosphere inside the restaurant was amazing, Andrea had never been in places like this before, so when they took their table and the waiter brought them the menu, the detective visibly tensed in her seat.

"I'm not really hungry," the woman explained after looking through the countless dishes. "I think I'll just have some coffee, since I didn't come here to eat, but to ask you more questions."

With that, Andrea took out her beloved black notebook and put it on the table, almost dropping the glass of mineral water that was close by, but she pretended nothing had happened.

"So, I've been talking to Mr. Kimball about his conversation with Bethany's boyfriend and I've learned a lot of interesting information," the detective gave Bateman a small smile, noticing his slightly nervous movements as he adjusted his tie. "Bethany's boyfriend said that you and Bethany broke up because you didn't want children, while Bethany wanted a family. Is that true?"

Andrea brushed her curly hair and placed them on her shoulder, exposing her collarbone without even realizing it, the curve of her heavy breasts even more noticeable as she leaned down on the table as she waited for Patrick's answer.

'Was that the reason?' It seemed likely, and Patrick tried to remember, but admittedly it could have been him sleeping with other girls - did Bethany ever consider him to be faithful?

"Yes. I was never interested in building that kind of family, so of course that was an obstacle to a future together."  Patrick swallowed hard, but for once it was not the fear of being caught - the thought always lingered in the back of his mind. 

It was an innocent movement of hers that caught his attention - her wild hair swayed back, drawing his gaze to the now fully exposed cleavage. It was not a modest sight compared to the suit, and Patrick told himself that the heat that washed over his body was just irritation at her slutty attitude. 

‘What a cheap way to distract me’,  but he had to admit that for all the things she lacked in his eyes, her breasts looked perfect. 

Up until now he had wanted to drug her to torture and kill her, she wasn't his type (and why would he settle for that when he could have anyone else?), but now other fantasies found their way into his mind… Patrick was suddenly very grateful for the waiter who came their way.

The detective was busy writing down Bateman's comments when the waiter came to their table. "Are you ready to order, sir?" The waiter asked, looking attentively at Patrick and then at Andrea.

"I'll have a double cappuccino," Andrea replied, handing him the menu. "And maybe another glass of water."

The waiter - a young man with a perfect smile - nodded a little confused. "Ma'am, how about some dessert to go with the coffee?"

Frowning, she put her notebook aside and looked at the waiter, her slight irritation palpable in the air. "No, just coffee and water, please."

"Are you sure? The charcoal cake with durian cream is outrageous here! No, please — be my guest," Patrick said with a condescending smile.

Without even giving the detective a chance to answer, he had already instructed the waiter, along with the usual J&B for himself. Actually, he did not care much for culinary pleasures, let alone sweets, but he had chosen the most expensive option among the desserts. 

Perhaps he could disguise the drug as powdered sugar instead? But either way, Miss Moore had been far too observant so far. "Anything else you want to know about my love life?"

Bateman's question only made the detective smile and chuckle, his arrogant manner and self-centeredness amusing to her.

"Mr. Bateman, I already got the point that you're very successful with women, I really did," she paused and took a sip of water. "But did you say you were engaged? I think you did during our first meeting in your office."

'Not that I really care, but maybe it can trigger him to give me more information.'

"Does your fiancée know you keep in touch with your ex-girlfriend?" Andrea asked. Right after that, the waiter brought them their drinks. "Thank you." The waiter grinned at them and went to get their dishes.

The detective felt a strange thrill of the rush, as if she was getting closer to solving the mystery of Patrick Bateman, and all the knowledge she got from Mr. Kimball only fuelled her passion for it.

"Yes, I am indeed engaged." His attempt to confuse her had backfired terribly and it was impossible for Patrick to keep his voice neutral. He only managed not to reveal the growing level of aggression he was feeling towards her by taking a deep sip from the finely polished whiskey glass.

'Oh, that little bitch, I'm going to make her cry tears of pain and remorse.'

"I don't think my fiancée would care. After all, nothing had happened between me and Bethany, and my intentions were of a friendly nature."

Evelyn not caring about any of this was probably true, but not for the reason Patrick gave the detective. She was probably dating Timothy Price today. 

"Some people are still faithful these days, you know. Is that what you believe in? Then you wouldn't have to explain this dinner to your partner."

The moment Bateman mentioned her partner, something heavy dropped in her gut. What the hell?

"I'm committed to relationships based on love and trust," Andrea replied, the broad smile never leaving her face. "But I don't think it can really work with guys like you, since yuppies change their dates like gloves."

The tone of her voice was more aggressive than annoyed, but she didn't like how it sounded anyway. Besides, the heat that suddenly coursed through her body from his unexpected question made her blush, and the only good option now was to excuse herself and go to the bathroom.

"If you excuse me, I have to use the bathroom." And with that Andrea retreated, but she didn't forget to take all her stuff with her.

'So, she has someone waiting for her…'

Patrick stared at her back (or rather her ass), somewhat stunned by this little outburst. Of course, he only cared because it would mean another person worried about Detective Moore's whereabouts. Hopefully she wasn't as much of a blabbermouth as Bethany had turned out to be. 

'Once I'm done with her, not even her boyfriend will want to take her back,' he thought darkly, her disparaging view of yuppies bothering him much more than it should. 'Screw love and trust.'

The woman's fate would soon be sealed. Rohypnol was a hell of a drug, robbing its victims of the ability to move and talk for hours, to the point of losing their minds - long enough to take her body back to his apartment. 

Making sure no one was paying attention to him, Patrick finally took the opportunity to stir the drug into both the rest of her coffee and the water. He could only hope that she would choose one or the other, but he was confident enough. After all, why would she waste something that cost the price of her awful dress?

Meanwhile in the bathroom…

'Fucking bastard,' Andrea kept repeating to herself as she washed her hands. Before the woman left the bathroom, she looked at her reflection, motivating herself to be strong and not to let this narcissistic king trap her in his net.

After a few minutes, the woman came back to their table and found Bateman talking sweetly to some random woman, but the moment the detective took her seat, he stopped his conversation and his full attention was on her again.

"I think I forgot to ask you the most important question," Andrea stated abruptly, picking up her cup of coffee. "Where were you the day Bethany disappeared?" A small sip of cappuccino made her think that it was a little sweeter than before, but the woman condemned herself for being paranoid. "I'm interested in the part of the day that followed your dinner with her."

Smirking, Andrea drank her coffee with double effort because it was so damn tasty — it was abnormally tasty.

"I believe I was returning some videotapes. Or maybe I just went straight home." Patrick didn't take his eyes off her, watching the woman's every move. 

There was a crucial point, a very sudden one, where the drug would take effect. And since he didn't want to attract attention, he would have to leave the scene quickly, as if leading a drunk on his arm. Just outside the restaurant, he had parked a rental car. Never before had Patrick given so much deliberation to a crime, his style was usually impulsive, and in that sense she got special treatment. It bothered him, the sheer effort that had already gone into planning this. 

But he would make it worth it.

"It's already late at night. I don't know what really happened to Bethany... Are you going to find a safe way home?" he said casually, noticing the unnatural fluttering of her eyelids, and for the first time that day Patrick felt a cold certainty calming his nerves.  "I could always give you a ride, not a big deal."

It was strange when Andrea suddenly felt so tired and exhausted as if she had just run a sprint. "What... what did you say?" She mumbled incoherently and rubbed her eyes. "Can you...repeat...please?"

The surrounding sounds faded into the void, her eyes were so heavy that she could barely keep them open, and the way Bateman was smiling right now made her think that she was so fucked up. Time stopped for her when the woman almost fell on the table, but she managed to lean on her elbows. 

Before she blacked out, Andrea took one last look at her empty coffee cup. "Bastard...you..."

And then she fell into the abyss.

In a rare moment of sincerity, Patrick finally let his facade slip - his face showing an expression of undisguised triumph. It was the last thing Detective Andrea Moore must have noticed before she collapsed, cursing him in vain with the last of her strength. 

Where he would normally have used his Amex card, Patrick now threw a more than generous amount of cash on the table. 

'Consider it a gift, buddy,' Bateman thought to himself, looking around for the waiter who had served them, before lifting Andrea, who was completely unconscious.

Seconds later, a dimly lit silhouette made its way through the cold night air of New York, Manhattan. He held a smaller figure close to his body, a gesture the unassuming eye would consider romantic. In reality, she was a dead weight in his arms, and Patrick could easily lift her onto one of the back seats like a crash dummy. 

Once in a good mood, he turned on the radio —  One Way or Another by Blondie — was playing, and made his way through the dense traffic of the never-sleeping city. 

It took them an hour to reach the American Gardens Building, and she hadn't moved a muscle the entire time.

Getting past the security guard was also ridiculously easy - the man, already half asleep, didn't bother to keep an eye on Patrick's female acquaintances. 

Now Detective Moore was lying on the white couch, her hair spread out and her dress pulled up, exposing part of her plump thighs. Coat and shoes were completely missing. 

Patrick hadn't bothered to tie her up.

There was something primal about chasing down his victims, trying to run and escape when it was far too late for them. It excited him. However, he had gagged her with one of his least favorite ties (a gift from Sean), not wanting to deal with the verbal expressions of her initial shock. 

'I bet she's a screamer.'  

Sitting across from her in his treasured Barcelona chair, leaning back with his legs elegantly crossed and Detective Moore's notebook in his hand like the most interesting novel, Patrick waited for her to regain consciousness. It seemed to mimic an interview all over again, only this time the roles would be reversed. There was no paperwork on the glass table in front of him, just a cutting knife that had never been used for cooking.

The moment Andrea opened her eyes, she saw nothing but a perfectly white ceiling above her. Then she tried to turn her head, but the sharp pain pierced her temples just as she was about to do so.

"Mmmhm!" The detective whimpered breathlessly, unaware that she was gagged.

Her mind was still foggy and everything was doubled in her eyes, making it hard to understand what the hell was going on, but when a familiar scent of expensive cologne hit her nose, the woman pushed herself up on her elbows and the image she saw almost coaxed her back into unconsciousness.

Bateman, sitting arrogantly in the leather chair with her notebook in his manicured hands, his hazel eyes now as dark as the night sky and his nostrils flaring with the thrill of the rush. 

'What a reckless woman I am!' Andrea cursed herself, but she still didn't try to run away, even when she found out that she wasn't tied up. 'No, that would be too easy and it doesn't work that way.'

And then a wicked idea came into her cloudy mind. Slowly, she opened her legs a little wider, pretending not to notice that her skirt had been hiked up and fighting the growing embarrassment in her chest.

‘I have to do it if I want to stay alive. I have to distract him any way I can!’

Not being a man of self-control, Patrick couldn't help but let his eyes immediately wander between her spread legs. She wasn't wearing any tights under her dress, which was unprofessional, and it gave him a direct view of her panties. 

Patrick gritted his teeth, both disgusted and aroused by the act, and remembered once again his intense desire to teach her a lesson. 

'Of course she is acting slutty now. But if she thinks she can be that good to save her life - maybe I'll let her try.'

In a few smooth moves, he crossed the distance between them, grabbed the back of the couch and leaned closer to her face. She looked even smaller now, trapped in this position, and yet she didn't seem fragile. Her eyes met his own with a certain defiance that was exciting, Patrick had to admit. 

But it also made him even more angry. 

"You think I'm interested in that?" And in a crude gesture, he pressed his hand against the thin fabric of her underwear, his big hand cupping her pussy completely and pushing the dress up past her broad hips.

"I've killed women far more beautiful than you… what should make you any different?” He murmured in her ear, in a tone that couldn't decide whether it was a threat or an invitation…

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x oc #patrick bateman x fem!oc #slasher x oc

[ohbother2]

You don't have to answer I can understand since I'm asking such a big thing that could take time,

but how did you understand Luci's character traits and personality so well? Knowing what to write about how he'd react in some situations and just knowing him very well? It's really such an amazing skill I love writers so much they have such a way with words and all.

Sending you lots of love <3

Hello!! Honestly no worries I absolutely love when people ask about my writing!! <3

The fact that this was sent in immediately after the previous ask summarising my characterisation as 'power bottom with an oral fetish' is honestly hilarious lmfaoooo

but seriously tysm!! The fact you think I've characterised him so well is so flattering!

In all honestly I'm not entirely sure, and I'm not (personally) entirely convinced I have gotten his characterisation 100% correct! I think the fun about being a writer is you can take these... 'artistic liberties' and if you write them well enough and convincingly enough (within certain constraints of reality) people will just kinda accept it

I guess as someone who spent their childhood and teenage years far too involved in fanfic-writing and mindless daydreaming inside their own head you start to gain a taste for ensuring characters stay within their own 'box' of characterisation and don't just begin acting how you want them to - this was a very long mindset I had to teach myself out of (I dread to think about some of the horrendous ooc fics I wrote in my younger years)

Even today, as someone who hopes to write their own book one day and has been using fanfic-writing as practice, I STILL have to reign myself in and really look at my work and think 'would they actually act like this'. For example, you have no idea how many times I've had to re-write a line of dialogue or just simply scrap entire paragraphs altogether after deciding that Lucifer/Adam/etc wouldn't act like that

Actual advice time - the main thing I do when I decide I want to write for a character, is study the character. I watch the series again focussing on that specific character and their interactions, and then I come up with my own little 'characterisation' of them in my own head: little traits that I've picked up on throughout their screen time like their mode of speech (and tics or mannerisms, and common phrases or specific vocabulary, if they mumble, etc) or their body language. [For example, my summarisation of Lucifer is: desperate to please, abandonment issues, overcompensates his slights with showmanship and flair, ruled by his emotions, a genuinely caring person.]

I also think you can actually deduce a lot from a characters physical presence on screen - their confidence, their anxiety, their happiness, their frustrations - and you can really run with it. If you can pick up on those key characters traits, just amp them up in your writing and bam you've nailed the key components of the character and everything else will fall into place. E.g., Lucifer is constantly taking deep staggering breaths when confronted by something out of the norm (Charlie ringing him, having to talk to Heaven, etc). What can be deduced from this? He doesn't handle his emotions well, he doesn't hide them well, he's easily flustered, he's not as composed as he wants people to believe. Ergo, whenever something is overly shocking, I really play on that characteristic.

Embarrassingly, sometimes if I'm really struggling with deciding whether a character would do/say something, I look up compilations of that character on YouTube so I can really focus on just them. I've always had quite a good knack for getting in other peoples (and characters') heads and this little boost really helps me. Sometimes I even look at other fanfics!

Basically: I'm not entirely sure, thank you so much, this probably hasn't answered your question at all, practice makes perfect :)

#another writing advice post? #god who do I think I am #sorry about this #probably didn't help at all #and probably made myself look dumb #but that's me in a nutshell :)

[kaladinkholins]

Probably you have spoken about it earlier (sorry if so), but how do you think that Taigen will know Mizu's gender in the series? And how would you like it to happen? I would like it to be intentional, but regarding the amount of wounds Mizu constantly have, who knows...

Hello! :D And no I don't think I've ever written about it publicly on this blog, and to be honest I've never thought much about it.

To preface, I've not always been the type to properly sit down and theorise about future narrative decisions. When it comes to these things, I'm very "big picture" oriented, where I'd usually be fine with anything happening in the story as long as it touches on certain themes, remains in character, and adds something meaningful to our protagonists' arcs.

For example the only reason I came up with the Mizu's mom theory was because knowing exactly who Mizu's mother is (whether she is white, or royalty, or anything else), could, depending on the different posible outcomes, drastically alter Mizu's sense of identity and how she perceives herself, as well as morph the core themes and message of the overall story.

On the other hand, when it comes to the particulars of the inevitable gender reveal, I'm not picky at all, and I'm open to all the possibilities of how it would play out. This is because the outcome to all of it remains the same (in which Taigen finds out Mizu's gender), with only the process to get there differing, and in that regard, the question is then mostly on personal preference on tropes and avoiding cliches, and speculating future plot beats that would allow the gender reveal to happen in the first place.

Like you said, it could happen by way of Taigen trying to stitch Mizu up while she's unconscious or at least half-conscious, which would thus likely involve a big battle happening prior. A similar instance that comes to mind is Mizu's face off with Chiaki and the Four Fangs; iirc it's the only time Mizu is unconscious and vulnerable in front of Taigen. I'm not counting the time after they both fell out from Shindo and Fowler's fortress, because in that case, they'd both been completely KO'd. So anyway yeah, to get back on track, post-Four Fangs battle, if Ringo was not a factor, Taigen would've likely been the one to bring Mizu to safety and patch her up. From the framing of the scene, and Taigen's expression upon noticing Mizu look so vulnerable (because at this point he'd still believed Mizu to be nigh invincible, as we see from his daydream of him battling a giant Onryo in Episode 2), it's almost like the show was teasing us with the possibility of a gender reveal right there and then. But then of course, Ringo comes in and puts a stop to that happening (and thank God for that, because neither Taigen nor Mizu, on a narrative level, are ready for such a reveal yet).

Other than a Taigen-patching-Mizu-up scenario though, and outside of Mizu confessing to the truth herself, another possibility is that Taigen deduces the truth on his own. And this an idea that Ioana (@saessenach) and I were discussing, assuming a scenario where Taigen did not follow Mizu on the boat to London, but remains in Japan to do his own thing. In this scenario, all four of our protagonists are separated throughout Season 2 to have their own arcs: Mizu in London, Akemi in Edo, Ringo in Eiji's forge, and Taigen? Well, absolutely zero hints were given on where Taigen's going to go after S1, so everything's up in the air. The reason for this could be just some network/authorial reason whereby the writers are leaving it open because they themselves aren't sure what to do with Taigen.

Or, if they'd pre-planned everything early on, the complete lack of Taigen's presence at the end of the finale could itself be an indicator of where Taigen, and his arc, are going. What I mean is, Taigen in Season 2 might be a Wanderer, also known as a Ronin. Remember, he was disgraced and cast aside by his Lord, has lost his station and place in his Dojo, and him witnessing the "humiliating" death of the Shogun could be reason for Lady Itoh to want Taigen gone. He has nowhere to go. Plus, with him beginning on a journey of unlearning his prejudice and confronting his wrongdoings so he can properly change for the better (with the scene of him in Kohama in Ep7 being only his first steps), it's possible that his arc next season will be something along the lines of Zuko's from Zuko Alone in A:TLA. If you haven't watched A:TLA, what I'm referring to basically involves going from village to village, seeing that the status quo and society is cruel and unjust, trying to help people but having it kinda blow up in your face because of the fucked up status quo, and also facing the past you've been running from your whole life (through the form of flashbacks and introspection).

Thus, should a Taigen Alone arc really happen, it's possible that Taigen also gets wrapped up in some plot involving the black market dealers in these towns he visits, which would help tie in to the main story happening with Mizu and Akemi, because the white men (on Mizu's end) and the corrupt officials in the palace (on Akemi's end) both have ties to such black market dealers that Taigen may encounter. So it's possible that while investigating these people and tracking them down, Taigen gets wind of some rumours about the huge bounty on a half-breed blue-eyed girl. And, well, you can guess where it goes from there. Taigen deduces the truth, and when he reunites with Mizu later on, there'd be all this tension because now he knows. And this would be a very interesting outcome because this scenario wouldn't lend itself to a huge heat-of-the-moment argument that everyone's expecting, whereby Taigen finds out the truth while Mizu's right in front of him. Instead, in this case, Taigen finds out on his own, gets time to stew in the revelation, and likely drive himself mad in the process, and BOY THAT'D BE JUICY AS ALL HELL!

So basically, yeah, between the two scenarios I just presented, I'd favour the latter more, but I wouldn't mind the former either, or anything else the writers might throw our way.

However, I do still kind of hope Mizu could be the one to reveal the truth to Taigen herself, as I feel she should be allowed the choice in the matter, rather than having Taigen find out against her will. Plus, being the one to tell him herself would be such a huge step for her, signifying how she's opening up to people again, and would also be a big sign of some pre-established trust in their relationship.

BUT like I said, I'm not all too picky, and I also live for the drama, so, in conclusion: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also I just realised just how much I typed up, and I'm so sorry that I can never be concise with my words, but I hope it's still somewhat legible. 😭 Thank you so much for this question by the way! I love rambling about this show, and I'm grateful for any chance to ramble about it even more <3 <3

#letters.doc #mbiterna #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai theory #taigen blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #for real though thank you i love getting asks that pick my brain about this show (or about anything in general tbh) #let this be a sign for anyone to come into my ask box and pick my brain #meta dissertations.pdf #kind of? #fandom.rtf

[meanbossart]

Another ask compilation!

There already is some! If you search up "orin the red" in my blog there's some art to be found of them together (after you scroll by all the essay length replies to asks I've gotten about her 🤦) and I definitely want to draw more of it in the future.

(This ask is referring to mine and @barbatusart comics, not my silly BG3 stuff, just in case anyone gets confused) ALAS, Sad Sack and Sortie seem to be what me and Nick have taken to calling part of the Unpublishable Triad: It's Gay, It's Violent, and it's too long. The point is that publishers don't want anything to do with it. We've actually gotten really close once, signed a contract and everything, but then the place gained some traction and decided they didn't want us in their repertoire anymore.

We've considered self-publishing again and again, but unfortunately we don't really have the financial means for something like that. We hope as we expand and entertain slightly less erm outrageous stories that we will come across some new opportunities.

(more asks below the cut)

AGREED, I don't think there's much of a way for me to both keep him in character AND keep her alive (since she has such a problem with Shadowheart) but if Shadowheart hadn't been mega racist I bet Lae'zel and DU drow would have had a lot of funny conflict (he would have relentlessly looked down on her blind faith) broken up with their mutual love for senseless violence. Probably at least 1 rage fuck in there before Astarion came peacocking in.

Thank you!

Not really, I don't really like dividing my attention with other things when I draw, not to mention that I do a lot of picking things up and putting them down again which doesn't seem very apt for art-streaming.

THANK YOU SO MUCH DUDE! I Nick is the sole writer behind the original series and of 95% of Sortie (I butt in there here and there because I'm also a huge Sal fan lol) so all the dope semiotics and symbolism are thanks to him and his big, beautiful brain. I'm beyond lucky to have found someone so talented to work with.

Thank you so much again for your patronage and support, I'm glad you have been enjoying the rest of our work!!!

THANK YOU!!! I draw a lot of inspiration from western comics, and I'm a big fan of the art of Sean Murphy and Jason Shawn Alexander. I was also reading JtHM and Hellsing in middle school which I'm sure caused some kind of irreversible damage to my psyche.

LOL, IT'S AN HONOR TO BE THE FREAK OF THE FANDOM, and it's a joy to hear that I've given you and your friends some good laughs. Thank you!

---

I have a ton of other sweet messages that I can't reply to individually without risking turning this into a LOOK-AT-ME fest, but as always thank you so much to everyone who decides to drop by with a nice word of encouragement, support, or just to let me know that they enjoy my characterizations, I very much appreciate it!

#ask #ask compilation

[kpopsexstories]

Yay 😁 Winwin's story is now done!

It's only been what, a few days, since I asked for help with my smut story for NCT/Wayv Winwin, which previously caused me a lot of grief. You helped me loosen my writer's block big time! I've now completed a first draft I'm very happy with, and it's all thanks to your responses 😊😘

One in particular got me writing well into the night (it takes maybe 6 hours to write the first draft of any one of these stories). I won't reveal too much, but let me give you a hint:

MILF 😏😜🍆💦

With Winwin's story "done" (again, I still need to edit and then proofread all six of the remaining stories of the Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of NCT series before I begin to publish them), only one (also wide-eared 😁😍) member remains: LUCAS.

Since your suggestions for Winwin helped so much to get my creativity going, I'll ask for the same help with Lucas: If you want to, send me an Ask with your suggestions for what kind of sexual experience and storyline I can put Lucas through 😊

It will likely be another month before I start the final "season" of this series, but I still have loads more Quick Fix stories coming your way while you wait. If you didn't see the one with TXT Beomgyu's steamy shower sex scene I published this week, check that out now. And in just a few hours (Saturday Feb 24), you'll get a much wilder imagine in which NCT Johnny and Yuta double penetrate you 😱😏🎉

I can't say it enough, but thanks for following and reading all my smut, and especially for engaging with me as I can't stress enough how much that means 😊 Your presence here is what makes me want to keep writing, and keep the blog alive for a long time to come!

#smut #nct #nct smut #nct dirty #wayv #wayv smut #kpop smut #wayv winwin #winwin smut #nct winwin #winwin #lucas wayv #nct lucas #lucas wong #wayv lucas #Wayv Lucas smut