#i am afraid to finish writing it because then i will have written it and it will be finished if that makes sense

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: trying to solve my narrative issues by spending a fuckton of time mapping them out

#purple are scenes. red are themes. blue are… don’t worry about blue it was just for me to track some motifs #a nice way to visualize which scenes are actually worth finishing & which ones might need to get scrapped if i can’t find the juice #procrastination takes many forms! #this is a true wip unlike most of my other wip wednesdays. Peeling back the curtains here. #welcome to my twisted mind #this will not be my only post of the day bc it is a little lackluster lmao #i am afraid to finish writing it because then i will have written it and it will be finished if that makes sense #then i will have said everything i wanted to say about ice & mav and i will have nothing left to say #actually… ive already written all that. what isn’t written is all the connective tissue ‘character moves from A to B’ stuff #boring stuff #I’ve already written everything i wanted to say about ice and mav. that’s a little terrifying. #it’s all in this document.

[marvelouslizzie]

Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard. 

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order. 

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features. 

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right? 

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved. 

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious. 

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.” 

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that. 

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

*

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?” 

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck. 

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

 “That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth. 

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess. 

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too. 

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers smut #bucky barnes fluff #my stories

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr. Gaiman,

As an accomplished author with several books under his belt, how do you know that a story is a dud for lack of a better word? I have a million ideas bouncing around inside my head at all times, and while I consider them good ideas worth pursuing, how am I sure they will make a good story?

I ask this because I have been dwelling on something one of my professors said last semester. He held a seminar on poetry and got to the topic of fiction writing, where he stated that he had just recently finished a story he had rewritten several times over the course of multiple years. Now I myself write as a hobby with a faint imagining that someone might see it in the future, and I have written a dud or two, where the plot was poorly formed and the ideas behind it just had a flaw somewhere in the base concept. Perhaps this is my youth and amateurity speaking, but I was under the impression that given enough time and care, any story could recover from that stage so long as it had not been completed yet. Ideas would need to be reworked, concepts retooled, characters redrawn, but the very basic idea could still survive in a different format.

My professor disagreed, stating that he has destroyed 400-500 page novels that he has written before upon realizing said fatal flaw. He stated that the story was in a state that it could not recover from, and that many authors encounter ideas that seem good at the time, but stink later on to such a degree that the basic premise must be thrown out. This seems like a tremendous loss of work to me. As writing is an art form, it feels somewhat similar to destroying practice sketches and 'meh' oil paintings that showcase the artist's progress. An idea that stinks today might be able to work from a different angle later on in my opinion.

I suppose after rambling my question is now this: are some ideas and concepts just not worth pursuing? Are some story concepts flawed from the get-go and impossible to save, and is there a way to tell that before writing the whole thing? Is it even possible to waste that time as you're getting in practice for the next tale?This isn't something I ever really thought about before being told in sure tones that this is how things work by someone with a degree is this, so I figured I'd ask the professional author for a second opinion. Apologies for the length of the message, especially if this is one you've received before.

I have things that have stalled and a few stories that, when they were done, went to the box in the attic rather than to anyone who could publish them (there's a whole novel there I wrote when I was 21). But mostly because I was writing serial comics, failure was not an option, and if something did fail it had done it in public for everyone to see. And I learned that some things I thought were failures had actually worked really well.

Some people are afraid of failure. Some people are afraid of success, which can also be a good reason for junking books and never showing them to anyone. As long as you pronounce them irretrievably flawed and show them to nobody, you will never be judged for them or have to deal with either success or failure.

[scarrletmoon]

About Powder Blue

This is going to be long. There are going to be discussions of suicide and trauma. This is going to be a bit of a jumbled mess because I can't tell a linear story to save my life. Don't feel like you need to read this, now or ever.

If you're wondering what the issues with PB were, and looking for what's next, read the indented text and skip the rest if you want!

I've had a bit of a...tumultuous relationship with the OFMD fandom. I've made close friends and lost them, made even closer friends who've very patiently reminded me of my worth when I needed that. I'm at a point where I'm still struggling, but I'm getting better. I'm still working on not being afraid. It's a bit of an uphill battle, but I'm still pushing my little boulder. I'm not alone this time, which is nice.

I entered the fandom as a nobody. I had almost 50 fics on AO3 and two had mildly popped off while I wasn't looking, but I wasn't really known for anything. I was a fandom ghost, posting my little fanfics and sharing them with the world because I just enjoyed the characters so much. Like a lot of people, I dreamed of being known for something. I thought that'd be neat.

I'm still in a state of shock and confusion that I've written anything in the past 2 years that people remember and even love. It's weird to be in a place where I never imagined myself to be. I can't stress enough how much I did not write explicit fic before this fandom; in high school, I would've welcomed a porn ban. I was afraid of my own sexuality, convinced it was some sort of monster I had to control. Convinced I was dirty. To other people my age, I was a prude, naive and childish for not being comfortable with it. So I feel for people who lash out now, who insist that attraction is actually fetishization, that if we set enough rules, maybe if we resist temptation, we'll be saved. I see you, and I feel for you. I personally don't think that's a healthy way to live, but if you'd told me that 2 years ago, I would've cussed you out. It's really a realization you have to come to (or not) on your own terms.

Anyway.

I know it's tacky to talk about your own success but it doesn't feel real. I go back and forth, reading other people's work -- and my god, there's some unbelievable talent in this fandom -- and thinking "shit, why would anyone read anything I've written? My stories are kindergarten finger paintings next to museum masterpieces". I am learning, slowly -- very slowly -- that I can't bully myself into a shape I like better. I'll never abuse myself into the kind of writer I think I want to be.

The first chapter of Powder Blue was written on a random day of the week after work. I was in a server -- the first fandom server I'd properly joined and talked in, watching a convo about how funnyt it would be for Ed to be a middle aged sugar baby -- when I pulled out my laptop and wrote for an hour and then posted that chapter to the server. I hadn't written for five years before OFMD. I had never finished a multi chapter fic. I posted that chapter and went to make dinner, and assumed the Google Docs link would get lost in that channel after a few likes.

That's not what happened.

The next few months were...a lot. My 7 year old Twitter account blew up from about 200 followers to 1000 in a matter of months. I was misinterpreted half a dozen times. Suddenly, people knew who I was and had Opinions. Some of those Opinions were Not Nice. I was told to grow a thick skin and get over it. So I figured my extreme reactions -- physical shaking, intense fear, a spiking heart rate, like I was being chased -- were just me being weak. I thought if I just sucked it up and laughed it off, it'd stop affecting me.

Turns out RSD is real and not an excuse I was using to be a baby, and it literally didn't get better until I was medicated! Wild

(This -- "I'm just overreacting and everyone else is secretly handling it better" -- has been a pretty consistent pattern my entire life, so figuring out I'm actually AuDHD has been mindblowing. If you've been wondering why you're so weak your whole life, I've got some screening tests you might be interested in).

Anyway my point is, a few things happened over the course of 2023 that brought me to a level of emotional pain I've never experienced.

At the start of the year, I was taking a self imposed internet break, after being forced to apologize for a tweet thread about Izzy, where I'd made the mistake of suggesting that fans of his should consider thinking about why they enjoy his character, but to only do this if they wanted to and ignore me if they didn't. This was taken as me being a hypocrite, and accusing Izzy fans of being terrible people. I apologized, vowed to never mention him again, and left Twitter for a month. Around the same time, a few things in a very close friend group went very wrong. I assumed it was entirely my fault for misbehaving, picked myself up, and tried to punish myself into a shape that would be acceptable for other people.

It didn't work.

Since I was now marked as an anti-Izzy bully, I couldn't say anything -- either on Twitter or in private -- that wouldn't be interpreted as me trying to start fights, as me being passive aggressive, as me trying to send covert messages for others to decipher so they could come and grovel for my forgiveness. Some of this is my fault -- it took a long time to learn than my private locked Twitter account isn't a diary. it took even longer for me to learn that maybe the people I was hanging out with weren't my people.

During all of this, I was posting Powder Blue after months of tears, pain, heartbreak, frustration and stress. I still don't understand why people write books for work or FUN. It was the most horrific experience of my life. It was valuable and so rewarding but jesus christ did writing PB take a lot out of me.

So as I felt less connected to my friends, as I was trying to hide how I felt because I thought I didn't deserve to be upset about anything (everything is always my fault, you see, and if I just behaved better, these things wouldn't happen to me), someone came to me and said they'd noticed some issues with Powder Blue. I'll refer to this person as the reader.

I was more than happy to hear them out. And it's true that I made some mistakes. The environment that I published PB in was not the one that I wrote it in. I didn't read any other sugar daddy/sex work fics as I was working on PB. PB was never a reaction to those fics. But because of those stories, which had handled things is harmful ways, there was suddenly a responsibility I'd never expected to have. I've never done sex work, I've just spent a lot of time listening to sex workers and trying to understand the legislation and environment as much as I can as a lay person. And since I don't have a personal experience with sex work, I shared my finished but rough draft with the reader, who did.

The problem, ultimately, is not something I could ever have fixed to their satisfaction. The fic doesn't involve dubious consent on a level that I think warrants an archive warning tag -- I tried to make it explicitly clear that Ed never does anything he doesn't want to, and that he's never coerced. The issue is that the nature of Ed and Stede's relationship is inherently uneven -- Stede is rich, and although he gives Ed money that's his to keep, Ed still isn't as obscenely wealthy as Stede is. Ed is poor and has been for a while. He's good at whatever he chooses to do, but he's struggling. That's a very uncomfortable spot to put Ed in. I also put Ed through some things that I've personally been through, as a way to work through my feelings and to try and better understand myself. If I was acting like Ed in real life, the reader is right that it would be concerning. But, importantly, Ed's not real. Nothing in this story is happening to a real person. Nothing in this story is an endorsement of any of his behaviours or unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I still believe the reader had good intentions -- the amount of effort they put into coming to me would be utterly bizarre for someone who was just looking to be cruel for no reason. But that also doesn't change the fact that being told I was having a trauma response and needed to stop working on the fic immediately, pushed me into the most suicidal period I've ever experienced.

That's not their fault. I'm sure that wasn't their intention. I've chosen to not try and find out who they are, or try to contact them again to respect their privacy. Some of the things people said to me, publicly dismissing the reader's pain, were so harrowing to read that it made me feel worse for ever writing PB in the first place. They were right to stay anonymous.

I'm sure the reader never meant for me to have such a massive breakdown that I took down the entire fic and left Twitter (and a few friend groups). It's been difficult to understand that just because someone didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't change the fact that I was hurt.

One silver lining is that I did go and find a new therapist. She's great! And she also thinks that how the reader tried to bring things up to me was wrong. As the reader obviously saw, I have a lot of Trauma, so I'm still not entirely convinced that I didn't deserve what happened to me. I'm not angry at them. I appreciate their concern. I just can't do what they asked of me. In the end, Powder Blue was not a story that was right for them. And that's okay.

My point in detailing all of this, is that I stayed quiet for a long time because I didn't think I deserved to tell my part of the story. I was scared that when people said they respected my choice to take down the fic, that they agreed I'd some something impossibly harmful. People trusted my judgement but I didn't trust myself. But people didn't know that I didn't trust myself.

Additionally, reader can't speak on this without revealing themself in some way. I'm terrified that they might read this and say something anyway. My biggest fear is becoming the kind of writer who sees negative criticism and pushes on anyway, or even blocks people who disagree with me. I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt.

BUT I've been holding onto this for months. I cannot write a perfect fic that will never trigger anyone. I will never write a meaningful story that won't hurt someone, no matter my intentions. There IS a way to admit you fucked up, or a way to listen and disagree, without turning into a raging asshole. I'm struggling to find that line. I'm hoping I'm making the right choice here.

And honestly, I'm just soft. I am so fucking soft. I talk a big game but I am so soft that a single person poking at my trauma caused me to break down so severely that my partner was legitimately afraid for me. I am learning that this softness doesn't mean I should become a crueler person to cope. But it's hard. There are going to be people who see this post and think I'm being a whiny crybaby looking for attention and pity. And I just have to deal with that.

Anyway. All previous chapters of PB will be up soon. Read them or don't. I will do my best to add more detailed trigger warnings. And I would personally suggest that if you're worried about any of the content in the fic, to run these worries past a friend who's read the fic, because they'll know you better than I ever will. Please don't read Powder Blue if you think it'll harm you. I would rather have fewer readers than triggered ones.

If there's anything I've missed that you think I need to address, know that my inbox is open, that anon is on, and that I'm not in the business of retaliating against people who come to me with an issue, even if they're a dick to me while they're doing it. I'm not going to dismiss someone because they weren't nice to me while they were upset. I'm a bitch but I'm not that kind of bitch.

So. Thank you for waiting for this fic. Thank you for waiting for me. We've got something like 16 chapters to go, and I can't tell you when they'll be up, or if they'll be up soon. But thank you for loving this story. I can't tell you how much that means to me, especially now.

Love,

Scarr

#scarrlet rambles #powder blue #about powder blue #this is also just a really long about me

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Navia, Yae, Lisa, Furina, Lumine, Hu Tao, Xinyan, and Shenhe's S/O getting scared by a story

No one requested this, I just wanted to write this scenario after rewatching Marble Hornets and I am TERRIFIED of closing my eyes now. I also feel incredibly old mentioning Marble Hornets. Did you know that web series is almost 15 years old now?

Navia has watched many theatre productions, but nothing regarding horror.

She personally isn't affected and finds them entertaining! (Because she's already dealing with the horrors of her normal life)

Her S/O on the other hand...

(Navia) "Archons, S/O! You're shaking! Was the story that scary?"

(S/O) "N-No I'm not...!"

Navia honestly can't help but laugh, not at S/O's terror, but just how cute they looked!

Plus, it made them sleep even closer to her, so no complaints are gonna be made!

Navia wraps her arms around S/O tightly.

(Navia) "Don't worry, S/O! I'm sure my gun can stop whatever tries to grab you in the night!"

(S/O) "I told you I'm not afraid! P-Plus, I don't think guns can stop a ghost- Wait, why are you making it sound like something will come?!"

(Navia) "I'm just saying for them to hear!"

S/O rolled their eyes as Navia laughed at their reaction.

Navia finds the whole situation makes S/O even more adorable in her eyes.

(Yae) "My goodness, S/O. If you had a tail, it'd be shooting straight up right now."

Yae didn't realize that S/O would be that affected by a simple scary story.

She could hear their heart racing as they tried to battle mentally that there were no such things as ghosts and whatnot.

Yae is half tempted to tell them what's around Inazuma, but figured that S/O doesn't need to die of a heart attack.

Not when she can inflict that herself.

(Yae) "Well if you are so brave, would you like to stay overnight by yourself at the Shrine? I am told you can see many things-"

(S/O) "P-PLEASE DON'T!"

Yae's hand covers her mouth as her eyes close from laughter.

(Yae) "I jest, little one. I am not that cruel."

(S/O) "Ugh, I knew you were just gonna tease me about this..."

(Yae) "Rest assured I will not frighten you anymore than I am right now...More than likely anyway."

Surprisingly, Yae does have them close to her whenever they are in private, holding them and making sure they're comfortable.

It takes every fiber in her being not to startle them and hear S/O yelp.

The things one does for love, but it'd also be really funny.

At that point it's a 50/50 whether Yae would terrorize or comfort S/O.

Horror wasn't a genre Lisa normally reads in the Library, but she does see the appeal of why people liked it.

S/O on the other hand despised the story they read.

Not that it was terribly written. Evidently it was too well written, since S/O was sleeping with candles lit in their bedroom.

(Lisa) "Dear if you're so scared, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I...thought I'd look braver if I finished it."

Lisa giggled and held their hands.

(Lisa) "It certainly is making you cuter.~"

Out of curiousity, she did start reading the book they had picked up whenever they were in bed together.

She could see S/O's eyes widen at the book and trying to refocus their attention away.

Meanwhile, Lisa was analyzing the book and seeing what had gotten them so scared.

(Lisa) "Is it because the story is supernatural, S/O?"

(S/O) "I mean, you can fight monsters! What do you do against a teleporting entity?!"

Lisa chuckled at their panic, and made sure to have one arm holding them.

When they were sleeping, S/O held onto Lisa for dear life.

Something she had no problem with. Maybe she should get them to read scary stories more often.

(Furina) "Aaaaw, are you scared, S/O?"

Furina teased, making S/O pout.

(S/O) "I-It creeped me out a lot, alright?! Just don't rub it in my face."

(Furina) "Come now, S/O! I will not take lightly of your mental affliction from this story! In fact, I will read it tonight and show you that you have nothing to fear!"

ONE SCARY STORY LATER

Furina and S/O sat quietly on the bed, with an aquatic familliar emitting a bright light nd illuminating the room.

Even though it was time for bed.

(Furina) "..."

(S/O) "...It freaked you out too, didn't it?"

(Furina) "D-Do not be absurd! I simply just think that the room was too dark-"

The door suddenly creaked open, which made the two of them immediately hold each other in absolute terror.

(Furina) "H-Hey, S/O! Um...I think tonight is an amazing time to become closer as lovers by never letting go, do you not agree?"

(S/O) "Y-YUP!"

The two of them shivered the corner of their bed, essentially sleeping with one eye open, and a gaggle of hydro familiars guarding the door all night.

They could not sleep properly for nearly a week, but it did bring them closer.

In which that they did not leave each other alone for a single second the moment the lights when off due to being scared out their minds.

(Lumine) "I didn't know you liked scary stories, S/O."

(S/O) "I don't..."

Lumine raised an eyebrow at the book, then put it down on the bedroom drawer.

(Lumine) "So, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "I thought it'd be interesting to talk with you about a story! I know you've always told me about your adventures and...I wanted to tell you a story."

Lumine's heart melted, bringing in S/O for a kiss on the cheek.

(Lumine) "I appreciate it S/O. Anyways, what's it about?"

S/O gained a confidence boost after the kiss and began telling her what the story entailed.

Only to watch their reaction drain as they explained it, recalling the bits of horror and Lumine being able to tell what part exactly terrified them.

(Lumine) "Hah, I think that's enough S/O. Honestly, it's kind of freaking me out too-"

(Paimon) "Yeah, now's not the time for-"

(S/O) "AWUAAAGH!?"

S/O leapt from the side of their bed and into Lumine's arms after Paimon had suddenly appeared.

(Lumine) "WOAH!"

(Paimon) "ACK! S/O, it's just Paimon!"

(S/O) "D-DON'T DO THAT WHEN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT GHOSTS!"

(Lumine) "Huh...I guess Paimon is like one-"

(Paimon) "Paimon is very much alive!"

Lumine lovingly held S/O close to her chest, ensuring that they were safe.

She was the traveler, and she could take on ghosts!

Lumine did have to leave out the fact she actually fought ghosts in Tevyat, however.

Especially Tsurumi Island. Her entire adventure there would probably convince S/O to never leave the teapot ever again and stay glued to Tubby 24/7.

Hu Tao, being the gremlin she is, would love to scare S/O further.

(Hu Tao) "You're afraid of ghosts? I can introduce you to a few and dispel that notion!"

(S/O) "H-HU TAO, I SWEAR TO THE ARCHONS, I WILL-"

(Hu Tao) "Woah, woah, woah! No need to be like that! They just want to socialize!"

She absolutely loves seeing them trembling whenever she mentions the story. It was both cute and extremely amusing.

They tried to hide the fact that they were scared from her, but S/O was a terrible liar.

And Hu Tao wants to kick it into overdrive by cosplaying the monster that scared them.

But she was also sure that would result in her getting dumped, both figuratively and literally into the Harbor by S/O.

Shockingly, Hu Tao does employ self restraint if she recognizes that S/O was getting genuinely distressed by her pranks regarding the story.

Instead, she'll have to sadly deal with the very comfy and tight cuddles S/O gives to feel better.

How tragic.

(Xinyan) "You're scared a by a story, S/O? Sheesh, the heck was in that thing?"

Xinyan is a bit confused on how someone could get that terrified by a book.

But whatever, she can't judge.

Most people were afraid of her simply looking at them.

(Xinyan) "Hey, S/O! C'mere a sec! I got a nice song that'll blast all those scary thoughts away!"

Xinyan distracts S/O by playing her songs and just being in their vicinity more than normal.

Something she could tell they appreciated as they calmed down, especially in the dark.

Her hand grips around their arms strongly, giving them a reminder that she ain't afraid of no ghost!

And especially since it meant extra cuddles, Xinyan was willing to indulge them.

(S/O) "I hope this isn't too ridiculous, Xinyan-"

(XInyan) "Nonsense, S/O! This ain't that big'a deal. Besides I...think it's a bit cute."

(S/O) "What was that last part?"

(Xinyan) "A-Ah, don't worry 'bout it!"

Shenhe didn't like seeing S/O be afraid, regardless of the source.

Her focus becomes razor sharp and thinks S/O is being frightened by an actual ghost.

Upon realizing ghost-murder was not needed, Shenhe instead has S/O with her at all times.

(Shenhe) "If I may ask, why are you so afraid of a fictional story?"

(S/O) "It's...kind of hard to explain. Just the concepts in there terrify me..."

(Shenhe) "I do not fully get it, but I will do my best to make you not scared anymore."

While it is unfortunate S/O feels unease, it does bring her great comfort that S/O finds her mere presence comforting enough to not be afraid.

Maybe it was because she can perform exorcist arts, or because she was their lover.

Regardless of the reason, Shenhe will not falter for a single moment, always on alert for S/O's mood.

She seemed to distract them well, one of her methods proving highly effective, which was hugging them tightly.

That seemed to do the job everytime as she felt them relax into her hold.

Part of her wished it was an actual ghost so she could make them pay for making her S/O feel so scared.

If she could murder a ghost, she would.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #navia x reader #yae miko x reader #lisa minci x reader #furina x reader #lumine x reader #hu tao x reader #xinyan x reader #shenhe x reader #navia genshin impact #yae miko #lisa minci #furina genshin impact #lumine genshin impact #hu tao #xinyan genshin impact #shenhe genshin impact

[flwoie]

TABLE TENNIS — KIM DONGHYUN

☆ when vandalizing your seat by writing how you’re done with love creates more vandalism by a response the next day in blue sharpie.

STARRING ≻ schoolmate! leehan x gn! reader (guest star : danielle of nwjns) GENRE ≻ romcom small angst hs au heavily inspired by that one scene from ‘para sa hopeless romantic' (PLEASE U GUYS SHOULD WATCH IT, ITS SO GOOD) CONTAINS ≻ vandalism (duh) so many timestamps and im sorry abt it WORD COUNT ≻ 682 (not proofread im sorry i gave up on using grammar checkers)

🗯️ sona's back with the weird ass titles??? dont know a slick about bnd but here i am. hope you’ll like this anon 😊

You're done with love.

This is the fourth time you've gone on a date with some weird guy. They keep getting worse every time. Your first date couldn't stop talking and not letting you say a word, followed by your second one, who didn't want to pay for his food, and your third one, well, he couldn't stop calling you insecure—when you weren't. If your friend sets you up on another one, you might as well just go for the first one.

She shows you Instagram profiles of other boys who find you interesting—from what she's heard by others. You interrupt her and slightly push her phone away from your face.

"Y/N, trust me, they're not going to be as bad as the others!" She urges.

"You said that last time. I'm done, Danielle." You clicked on the top of your pen and started jotting words down on your wooden desk.

'I'M DONE WITH LOVE!'

You pointed out your writing on the table to Danielle, making her roll her eyes.

'Wow, emo. Are you heartbroken?'

Those were the words that were written below yours in blue sharpie when you walked into class the next day. You pulled out a pen and wrote down your response next to theirs.

'Not really. Men just irritate me. Speaking of which, are you a guy?'

Danielle walks in and sits next to you, observing that you're not only writing on your table but also smiling ear to ear.

"What's got you smiling now?"

"Look," you say, tapping on the ink engraved on the table, "someone replied to my vandal." She leans in to read your messages.

"Very modern," she sarcastically remarks. "Who knows, that could be the love of your life."

"You're crazy. What 'love of my life' are you talking about? We don't even know anything about them."

She nudges your arm after she puts her notebooks on her desk. "But, Y/N, admit it. You're excited," she teases.

Leehan eagerly walks into class as it is about to start and quickly sits down in his seat to look at your response. He grins and looks around to see if any of his classmates saw him.

He waited for everyone to leave after his class ended. His friend urges him to leave with him so they'll do their project, but all he replies is that he'll follow along. As his friend left, he popped off the cap of his sharpie and replied to your message.

'Not all men, I'm different from them.'

You looked at the message and started writing your response as you waited for your teacher to start class.

"What if we skipped our next class? So we can see who's answering your messages," Danielle suggests.

"No way. We're going to be absent from our next class just because you're curious about who's answering."

"Nuh uh, it's for love."

From there, your conversations continued, with more of yours and his other friends being invested in this so-called love series.

'So you're a guy. Well, I hope you're different from them.'

'Hah! I'm a good boy :)'

'Really now?'

Danielle grabs your pen right after you finish writing, continuing your message with her writing.

'Really now? Do you have a girlfriend?'

'Nope. I don't think anyone would want to date me. What about you?'

She squeals at his response, lightly pushing you back and forth. "He's single, Y/N, he's single!" You scoff and ignore her antics.

'Me neither. My friend won't stop setting me up on dates.'

Leehan hasn't replied to your message since. He's afraid that this might be his last chance at love. He's been rejected by so many girls, all for the same reason.

He just wasn't good enough.

You thought the conversation ended there. It's been days since you last wrote that, and the ink is starting to fade. Danielle lost hope as well until the end of the week.

'Maybe she can set us up together?'

"Hurry up and ask for his name. I might know him!" she exclaims as you quickly write an answer.

'I'd love that. I'm Y/N.'

'Leehan :)'

masterlist

#k-films #kflixnet #k-labels #kvanity #leehan #boynextdoor #bnd #leehan x reader #boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #leehan imagines #leehan scenarios #leehan drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor drabbles #bnd scenarios #bnd imagines #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop

[olderthannetfic]

Nearly 75% of fic on AO3 has less than 5 reader comments. Can we please acknowledge that lack of engagement in a positive fashion is the norm in fandom and that writers are expected to work for nothing in return yet readers are allowed to be entitled?

The source of my number

https://www.tumblr.com/transholmes/738776926733336576/and-even-those-numbers-on-the-lower-end-are

--

Hahahahaha.

Oh, anon.

Okay, first of all, I just posted a bunch of graphs showing exactly this, so not only am I well aware of it, but you also clearly don't read my tumblr much and are just here because some friend of yours is upset that I responded negatively to them about their dumb bookmarking opinions.

Second and more importantly...

No, no one is expected to do anything.

That's crazypants influencer talk where you think your hobbies are jobs that you have no choice about doing.

I suppose I do expect fans to have something at least marginally worthwhile to say—or else I'll block them for being whiny little bitches who make my day dumber as well as less amusing.

But mostly, what I expect is that people will do hobbies because they are fun. If I ever decide that writing fic is too boring, I will stop.

I write because it's fun.

I write original work for money too, and if you want to read that, you're going to have to pay Amazon your cold, hard cash. But I still do it because I enjoy the actual act of writing... at least a lot of the time.

What I see in the bookmark boo-hooing is a bunch of people who haven't noticed the last eighty thousand rounds of this same dumb wank and who not only expect to get the last word but expect that somehow I'm going to signal boost it on my tumblr as that... a tumblr known for contentious debates and nobody ever getting the last word till everyone's exhausted and never wants to hear about paper plates or beans again.

I also see that some of the thinnest-skinned people have fic patreons.

Now, I chose not to bring this up before because it sounds a bit below the belt in that "And thus you're morally impure and thus I can ignore your argument" way... But it's a consistent pattern in these conversations over time, and I do think it's relevant. The biggest sensitive babies are always the ones most afraid of bad reviews but also low engagement, and I think it's because they're caught in some half-pro, half-not limbo where they want the best of both worlds but keep getting the worst of both.

If you behave like a professional who is owed compensation, you can expect a more professional style of response to your work.

And what does the pro world look like? Radio silence. The occasional harsh review. Nobody caring why you wanted to write X or why you couldn't finish Y on time.

If you're here to socialize, you should look for a beta or a couple of good friends who like your blorbos and your style of fic, and then you can squee together about what you've written. It may not come in the form of visible AO3 comments. It may be in private chat.

In some cases, it may just be friends you can talk to about your writing but who aren't actually going to read it. I have plenty of friends who read different things than what I write.

That's what socializing and hobbies look like, dude.

It's fine to point out that many writers do get discouraged by low comment counts and then stop, so if I, as a reader in a fandom, want more, it behooves me to befriend writers and make them feel good.

But at the same time, writers get discouraged or move on to the next fandom all the time for all kinds of reasons. If the critical mass and the zeitgeist aren't there, then they aren't.

Do your hobbies for reasons internal to you.

If the main point is external validation, get into BDSM and find someone excited to indulge your praise kink. It will work a lot better than chasing fame via art.

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader: He takes off his eyepatch

Warnings: mentions of violence, scars

Summary: Y/N and Aemond are betrothed in an arranged marriage and barely know each other but there is definitely an attraction. However, Aemond lost his left eye in a fight with his nephews as a child after he claimed his cousin's dragon, Vhagar. He feels insecure about his appearance yet he shows his face to his future wife.

A/N: The style of writing is a little bit different than usual because I try to use vocabulary similar to one George R R Martin uses in his books. Of course, it's a completely different setting, time and universe from the things I've written of before, but still, I hope you like it.

HOTD AND GOT MASTERLIST

* * *

“How have you been, my Lady?” asked Prince Aemond, stirring Y/N from her thought. She looked up from the book in her lap and closed it. She stood up and bowed to her future husband. His eye shone as bright as the Northern Star as he waited eagerly for her reply.

“I’m…” began Y/N and contemplated whether she should tell him the truth or whether this was just a courtesy. “I’m alright, thank you. How about yourself, my Prince?”

“You do not sound quite as well as you claim. Has something happened?” asked Prince Aemond and took a step closer, turning his whole body towards his betrothed. His lips pursed into a thin line. Y/N stared up into his eyes neither focused on his eyepatch nor his healthy eye.

“No,” said Y/N and looked away. “Everything… Everything’s fine, thank you.”

Prince Aemond measured her, not convinced by her words, much less by the tension in her shoulders and her neck. She avoided his gaze unlike this morning when they broke fast together when joy glistened in her eyes, when she embraced him with the warmth of her voice.

“Will you walk with me, Lady Y/N?” suggested Aemond and offered her his arm. Y/N smiled and took his elbow. He smelled of blood oranges and sandalwood and his body felt secure by her side for which she was grateful.

“What book have I disturbed you reading?” he smiled lightly.

“Oh, you haven’t… It’s quite dull, really, I wasn’t going to finish it but have a look if you like,” stuttered Y/N and showed Prince Aemond the leather-bound book.

“The Conquest of Dorne as witnessed by Maester Harryn,” read Aemond.

“It is not the subject that is dull but the writer, I’m afraid,” said Y/N almost as an apology to her Prince. The Conquest of Dorne was one of the greatest Targaryen achievements after all. “He speaks highly of Lady Visenya. She was Vhagar’s first rider, was she not?”

“She was,” confirmed Aemond and seemed to recall something. Light disappeared from his eye and his gaze hardened. Y/N’s heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze.

“If I have given offence, please forgive me, Prince Aemond,” she spoke carefully as she stopped on her tracks. Her hand untwined from his elbow before she bowed gracefully. The ivory silks of her dress whispered in the seaside breeze as she remained bowed. A gush of wind pushed her hair off her bare shoulders where the plain gold necklace with her house’s sigil now rested in solitude.

“You have not given offence, my Lady Y/N, nor could you even if you tried, I am sure,” said Prince Aemond and rose her chin to meet her eyes. His thumb caressed her cheek as he glanced at her lips. Y/N blushed and averted her gaze but her heart beat faster. Prince Aemond took her hand instead and kissed her knuckles. He gestured her to sit with him on a nearby marble bench overlooking the summer garden. Peaches and oranges were so ripe they kept raining onto the bright green grass, the birds were singing late in the evenings and as they turned to sleep, crickets and waves took their song.

“I was reminded of a memory,” began Aemond although he had never meant to share this story with his future wife. But there was something about Y/N’s presence, a warmth, a gentleness, an understanding that one could say anything and be met with a compassionate heart. “When I was a boy, my brother Aegon, my nephews Jace and Luke, they all had dragons. All of their eggs had hatched except my own that was given to be as a babe. It is a Targaryen tradition.

“When we have children,” paused Aemond, “they will also receive a dragon egg in their crib.” Y/N nodded as she tried not to react at the prince’s mentioning of them having children. She understood it was her duty to bare him children, to any man that would be her husband, but the thought always made her uneasy.

“They were training their dragons in the Dragon Pit and I was there too. Mother always said I could still claim a dragon when I would be older should an opportunity present itself,” continued Prince Aemond. “One day, my brother and my nephews told me they had found me a dragon. It wasn’t a dragon though… It was a pig and they strapped parchment wings on its back.”

Y/N felt Aemond’s pain and humiliation as if it were her own when she listened to the story. She was the second child herself and a woman at that which did not sit well with her family.

“I am sorry they were cruel to you,” said Y/N and took Prince Aemond’s hand instinctively. She squeezed it but had not noticed she had done so until Aemond caressed her knuckles with his thumb. His hands were large and strong enough to wield a longsword with one arm alone. They swallowed Y/N’s small, gentle hands like a sea-storm swallows a boat.

“Is that when you lost your eye?” whispered Y/N softly. Prince Aemond’s thumb stopped caressing her palm in an instant as he froze in place.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand,” she reassured quickly and took back her hand.

“I lost my eye when I claimed Vhagar,” said Aemond out of the sudden. His hands reached to his head and unbuckled the eyepatch around his silver-gold hair. “I told my mother it was a small price to pay. I lost an eye but I gained a dragon. The biggest dragon in the world,” said Aemond and pulled the leather patch off his face. Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned to Y/N and showed the scar that marked his face. Y/N struggled to supress a gasp at the sight of a big round sapphire that gleamed in the eye’s stead. The setting sun lit a thousand glimmering stars within the crystal.

Y/N reached slowly for her betrothed’s face. Aemond turned away and Y/N stopped her hand. She licked her lips and tried again, this time caressing Aemond’s cheek. She turned his face to look at her but his gaze was still avoiding Y/N until it whipped at her eyes and faced the devil. He did not find it though. The disgust, the despise he expected to see was not there. Instead, Y/N traced her fingers gently across the scar and leaned in ever so carefully. She kissed Aemond’s brow where the scar had split it so many years ago.

#game of thrones #got #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #imagine

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Fifteen - The End

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, wedding, Stockholm syndrome, murder, smut, messy bathroom sex, fingering, blowjob, teasing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, body worship and kissing, this is not for minors

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys ❤️

This is the last chapter of Dark Moon, a story that I wrote in a period that was not easy for me, in fact the dark tones come from the negative emotions that pushed me to write this story to test myself with this genre, so I really hope you enjoyed Dark Moon, I would be happy to receive comments about it ❤️

As for possible extras, who knows, maybe they will come just like what happened with Happy Ending 😉

Also, it was really nice to be able to talk with you! Thanks for all the love and support, see you with the next story I am already writing 🤧

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Chapter List - Previous - The End

"Where is Y/N?" asked Taehyung, receiving a glare from Jimin.

"Stop it, Taehyung, she's afraid of him, and I'm certainly not going to force her to attend because you think it will help with her trauma," hissed Jimin, looking around.

He had let Y/N fall asleep in his arms before silently leaving the apartment to finish her uncle's execution.

Taehyung wished she was there, he argued that seeing her own nightmare die would help her heal faster, Jimin on the other hand was convinced of the exact opposite, she had run away from the bastard, dead or alive she never wanted to see him again, that was the gist.

"It was just an idea..." put the other's hands forward.

"Jimin, everything is ready" Hoseok warned him electrified, it had been a long time since they had proceeded with a real execution and this was the time to enjoy another one.

The boy nodded as he continued down the dark corridors of their base with the others, the room they were holding the man in was a cell like any other, it was only the way they were torturing him that differentiated the prisoner from the others.

Mikkel was bound hand and foot by a thick rope, which went to twist around his neck with a noose still wide enough not to suffocate him completely.

He stared at everyone with spirited eyes, and Jimin noted how disgusting and repulsive the man looked more like an ugly gray rat.

"You have the wrong man, I'm just a loan shark, the Kims would never say anything important to me," he licked his lips nervously, he had a horrible accent.

Jimin walked around him, his shiny black shoes made a sinister ticking sound.

Heel, toe.

Heel, toe.

He stopped in front of him again, bending at the knees.

"The Kims are our allies, we don't need to know shit about them," he said squaring him with disgust, "And we certainly wouldn't use shit like you for our own purposes."

Mikkel looked around agitatedly, Jungkook rocked back on his own feet, smiling cheekily at the man.

"Then why am I here?"

Jimin's eyes thinned, "Let's clean up, Mik," he said making the man fidget, "Does the name Y/N mean anything to you?"

Surprise and panic soon won out and he began to struggle, unaware of the damage he was doing to himself, the more he moved the tighter the noose around his neck tightened.

"You thought you were getting off scot-free by abusing a little girl who was part of your own family, threatening her parents and then making the poor mother look like a fool," Jimin began, approaching until he could read every distorted thought in the man's increasingly swollen eyes, "You took advantage of their miserable financial status and threatened to throw them out on the street if they talked, even naming certain acquaintances, who didn't like the publicity you gave, so... one way or another you're dead anyway," he growled, grabbing the knot and pulling to speed up the choking.

Mikkel coughed airlessly, tried to wriggle and escape Jimin's death grip, but to no avail, the more he moved, the more he urged Jimin not to let go.

"That's nothing compared to what you put Y/N through, you son of a bitch," he shouted, throwing a punch at the man now with no more air in his lungs, blood began to come out of his nose as his body was invaded by jerks and survival impulses, he cried out mute for mercy, but the boy's eyes remained stone.

Jimin backed away retrieving his gun, but when he pointed it at the monster he had second thoughts, with one bullet he would have died too quickly, so he just watched along with the others as he suffocated in the ropes and his own blood, in the last moments when Mikkel looked desperately at Jimin once again, the latter smiled.

"Y/N, my wife, sends her regards and wishes you to burn in hell," he greeted him amusedly, emphasizing how Y/N was now simply his.

When they saw the eyes turn glassy, with no more life behind them, Hoseok huffed.

"That was too fast," Jungkook commented, pulling out his own gun and unloading it on the body to make sure he was really dead.

"He's dead, that's all that matters," said Seokjin who had been merely observing in silence, "Get rid of the corpse cleanly, I don't want any surprises," he ordered, but everyone's attention was on Jimin.

"Wife?" asked Taehyung with a smile.

"He actually said wife, this jerk decided to settle his head," laughed Namjoon, interrupted by Yoongi who also laughed.

"No, that little head will always be crazy."

"So you're getting married with a celebration?" asked Jungkook, joining the confused chorus of questions and jokes.

"My guess is he's already signed papers, he seemed overconfident," reasoned Hoseok, both Jin and Jimin were getting nervous.

"Listen, you-!"

"When and how they get married is Jimin's and Y/N's business, as for us, we must realize that there is a new family member to protect," he clapped his hands vigorously, "Now, get rid of the body," he repeated.

Jimin nodded in Jin's direction in thanks, then turned to Jungkook, "Make sure that not even the bones can lie on this earth, you understand what I mean, right?"

Of course it was clear, the seriousness and awareness of having to do one's duty well had returned to the room.

The ceremony had been small and for a few friends, Jimin did not like to show off, and Y/N could not bear to see unfamiliar and dangerous faces staring back at her.

The wedding dress, on the contrary, was wonderful.

It wrapped the girl's figure gracefully, her shoulders were uncovered thanks to the bodice's boat neckline, which was white with light blue highlights and had many small flowers woven along the neckline and hips, it then continued with a long skirt made of silk and fluffy tulle, with her hair made slightly wavy and scattered loosely on her back and the thin, shiny tiara placed on her head, everyone had agreed that she was an adorable and pure fairy.

Jimin, for his part, in his sleek, total-black smoking with crystals sprinkled across his chest and shoulders, had never taken his eyes off her, like a hawk aiming at its seductive prey. There was a change in him too, his hair had been dyed blond, for Y/N had been like seeing a fallen angel waiting for her at the altar, she had smiled shyly at him arm in arm with Seokjin.

It had been frightening to meet him again initially, but in time she had realized that if taken gently, Jin was by no means evil and had always been very calm and gentle with her.

Now she was there, joining her hand with Jimin's, and emotion invaded her.

She paid no attention to the priest's words, the ritual they were performing was being handed down in the Bangtan band, it was the man who had to do everything, the bride simply had to say,

"Yes, I do."

It had been so easy to say it, no hesitation, no flash of fear, she looked at Jimin through the foolish eyes of love, he lowered himself onto her who discovered she was swept up in a fiery and electrifying cloud, when their lips touched Jimin held back no longer, he held her by the waist and pulled her into a deep and dead-end kiss, he was possessive and passionate and sought her out every time she tried to catch a breath.

The few guests applauded, giggling at the fierce hunger of the blond, who let her go only to gaze contentedly at those swollen, scarlet lips of kisses.

But it was not his intention to stop there.

They accepted the congratulations of the Bangtans and some of their relatives, Y/N met Taehyung's mother and father and found them a delightful couple, almost unable to believe it when the father said with some pride that he too had been a Bangtan before his son.

In contrast, there was no sign of Jimin's parents, probably not even knowing that their son was alive.... From what Jimin had confessed to her one night, his mother was a street prostitute and his father was a singer who toured the world, Jimin had been born by mistake.

Y/N had immediately rebuked him, he was not a mistake, he was her complex and sweet boyfriend, although he had not been a saint at first, now he was showing her that he was a caring partner and madly in love. Perhaps even too madly.

"Anyway, my husband and I wish you well and happy life together," trilled the woman, gently pinching the cheeks of the girl, who blushed under such motherly attention; now she understood why Taehyung was the most affectionate of his friends, he had not grown up with terrible parents.

"Treat her well, Jimin... it's not easy to find someone who understands and accepts our kind of life," he tapped the young man's shoulder with a hand that was anything but playful, despite the boxy smile his son had inherited.

"Oh, I'll treat her like a queen," he smiled sweetly, but Y/N saw the shadow of something more evil, something that manifested itself exactly forty minutes later, when everyone was now occupied with the banquet.

"W-We'll have to wait," stammered the girl, trembling under the velvety kisses the young man was leaving all along the portion of skin the cleavage had left, free to be cuddled and adored by him, "If you leave me marks they will show!"

Jimin laughed on her neck, "I won't leave you any marks, I just want to have a taste," he promised, licking down to the cleft between her breasts with his erection pressing into his pants.

He cast a glance at the girl and let out an approving cry, he had taken her in his arms making her sit on the sink, her back was resting against the large mirror behind her and her legs were held open, with the skirt pulled up over her hips and the white fishnet stockings on display, all for him and she was so sexy in his eyes...

"You've already had a taste this morning!" hissed Y/N, glancing occasionally at the bathroom door.

Jimin returned to leave moist trails of kisses on her chest, suddenly lowering her bodice and noticing to his pleasure that she was totally naked, Y/N gasped praying that nothing had been torn off, cast a reproachful glance at the man, melting away soon after, however.

Jimin's condition was no better, his once perfectly coiffed hair was now messy and scattered across his forehead, his tuxedo jacket had been tossed into some corner of the bathroom, and his dark, gleaming shirt had been opened by almost every button, which made her quietly admire the invitingly toned appearance of his abdomen, cased with deep attractive and manly lines, with her hand she followed one, entranced, to his waistband where a more than obvious bulge made her throat tighten.

Jimin licked his swollen lips stained with her lipstick, "I can't go back that way."

"No, you can't," murmured Y/N as she got off the shelf and knelt in front of him, who inhaled in eagerness to touch her.

She took off his leather belt and lowered the zipper of his smartly cut pants, watching raptly as his cock pushed against his boxers, there was already a wet spot staining the fabric, and she licked gently there, already finding the taste she now knew by heart and could no longer do without, Jimin clenched his fingers around the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white, with a small smile the girl also freed him of his men's underwear and finally took the swollen, heavy shaft into her mouth, standing still for a few moments, trying to get used to that girth once again.

"Fuck," breathed Jimin tremblingly, his balls clenched as he registered the image he was experiencing, "Oh, fuck, you're sucking me off in a wedding dress," he cursed, risking coming immediately, Y/N closed her eyes and holding her breath swallowed a few more inches until her nose brushed against the man's pubis and she felt her throat fill with his cock, she slid over the entire length again, licking insistently the sensitive frenulum area, her intimacy was on fire when she noticed the tremor in her husband's legs, giving him pleasure gave her pleasure, it was a sensation she had never experienced with anyone else. It made her feel powerful and weak at the same time.

Jimin moved his pelvis against her mouth, each discharge was a violent lash that he needed, the tone of his voice rose, and, they were both sure, if anyone passed by the bathroom door, they would hear a man enjoying thanks to a dreamy blowjob.

"Y/N, stop," he ordered in a guttural voice, but the woman sucked harder on his entire length, letting her saliva slowly slide all over his cock to make the job easier, in response Jimin grabbed her head, giving one last thrust that made her choke for a few seconds before releasing her completely, "Get up," he hissed, his taut and vibrating cock was already on the verge of releasing his cum.

The girl licked her lips with a sly smile, pleased that she had reduced Park Jimin to a quivering little thing, as if grappling with his first blowjob, but Jimin was not of the same opinion.

"You little bitch."

He made her turn, bending her over the sink and raising her glitzy skirt over her hips again, that position was the same as that night before everything went to hell, but she didn't feel the suffocating anxiety of the first few times, with time she had realized that Jimin would never hurt her again, and now she quivered every time she found herself bent over with Jimin behind her, watching her desire-laden body.

The blond man pulled her panties of the same color as her fishnet stockings, felt her intimacy with two fingers to see how wet it was and found it deliciously soaked and quivering, he hummed with satisfaction at that result and penetrated her lightly, Y/N opened her mouth sighing, her belly contracted recognizing that pleasurable stretch between her yielding flesh.

Jimin removed his fingers now soaked with her wetness and used them to gently caress her swollen, sensitive clitoris as he penetrated her all the way down, slowly sliding his cock into her who more than welcomed it, Y/N's head dangled forward as she responded to Jimin's rhythmic thrusts with hushed, choked moans, the fingers around her rosy bud amplified the sensations of the cock pinning her down in that bathroom, where everyone could have found out in a very few seconds what was going on.

"Oh God ... oh God ...!" she exclaimed unable to say anything else, Jimin went deeper with a sometimes desperate cry.

"My wife," he sighed in her ear, bending entirely over her with his hips clicking faster and rougher, "I'm fucking my wife," he gasped causing her walls to clench as they flickered in mad pleasure, with wide, glazed eyes she listened to Jimin repeat those words, she loved hearing him say them, her heart was swollen with love and pride, now no one would dare to hurt her, ever again.

The blond lifted her up against his chest, fixing his eyes straight into hers through the mirror that gave a sinful image of their bodies joining sensually, he held her tight like that as he intensified the rhythm of his thrusts, by now sinking into that slippery heat breathlessly, his hand worked under her skirt faster, Y/N moaned seeking his lips, Jimin also penetrated with his tongue into the young woman's mouth, pinching a florid nipple as a provocation.

It worked, with a shrill scream between their joined mouths Y/N came violently, clutching his cock that discharged moments later in her belly between thick boiling filaments, they continued to move in unison until the pleasure turned totally to discomfort due to overstimulation.

They sighed exhaustedly, but without moving.

"I told you not to leave marks on me, but you did worse," she laughed wordlessly, observing his devastated state, not that Jimin was any better off.

He kissed her neck gently, leaving her, who groaned annoyed at the loss.

"We have a valid excuse now."

"What excuse?"

"Well..." he helped her up her bodice by lacing it from behind, shooting her a mischievous look, "To get out of here without anyone noticing and finish in our room what we started."

Y/N widened her eyes, "We can't! They came here for us and then I'm too tired now to-" she could not finish the sentence, Jimin took her in his arms without any effort.

"It's our wedding, we can do what we like," he said with a smile that gave him a cheerful and absolutely adorable air, "And I want lots of children," he blew on her lips kissing her repeatedly, she laughed between their lips, unable to retort.

She did not know how exactly she had ended up trusting her fallen angel, but she was sure of the fact that she was now hopelessly in love with him, as he was with her.

#yandere jimin x reader #bts yandere x reader #jimin fic #jimin fiction #jimin imagine #jimin ff #bts fanfic #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin smut #bts smut #yandere bts smut #bts yandere smut #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x you #jimin x you #bts dark fanfiction #bts smut yandere #bts yandere #bts x y/n #jimin x y/n #yandere jimin x y/n #seokjin fanfic #namjoon fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

[morrieandlicky]

Edward Carpenter's full response letter to E.M. Forster after reading Maurice in 1914.

(The images of the letter can be found here at King's College's archive. Below is my transcription followed by photocopies of the letter. )

PS: 1) "MS" is the abbreviation for "manuscript".

23 Aug. [1914?]

My dear & blessed E.M.,

(I wish you had a name. Why do you always hide behind initials? What do your friends call you? My name is Edward, or ‘chips’!)

I have read your ‘Maurice’ after all, and am very much pleased with it. I don’t always like your rather hesitating tantalizing impressionist style - though it has subtleties - but I think the story has many fine points. You succeed in joining the atmosphere with the various characters, and there are plenty of happenings which is a good thing. Maurice’s love affairs are all interesting, and I have a mind to read them again, if I can find time - so I won’t send the MS back for a day or two. I am so glad you end up on a major chord. I was so afraid you were going to let Scudder go at the last - but you saved him and saved the story, because the end though improbable is not impossible and is the one bit of real romance - which those who understand will love.

I wish I could write more, but I am devoured just now by innumerable things. I expect to be in and about London from the 1st to 8th Sep. - so give me a cue to see you.

Your Edward C.

Transcription of vertical writings on the second page of the letter: 

I am sending my birthday reply to the papers on Sep. 1 with a lot about the war in it. 

Only a small part of the letter has been transcribed then included in reviews, or different Maurice editions. Which is why I wanted to transcribe the whole response from the real-life Maurice to the author of fictional Maurice after he read Maurice. The entirety is far more interesting.

Below: Edward Carpenter in 1886 and 1897.

Some contexts: based on Forster's diaries, Maurice was first finished in June/July, 1914, so Carpenter did read the first complete MS—with or without the epilogue is unclear since there's no solid proof for when the epilogue was written (though it appeared in the novel by February 1915 at the latest.)

However, since Carpenter said he liked the happy ending he read (and fun fact: the first complete MS which he read actually had a fairly different ending between Maurice and Alec than the published version's), we know that even from the first draft, Forster remained unwavering about how a happy ending is imperative.

More contexts: according to a letter from Forster to a friend, he thought Carpenter was "too unliterary to be helpful"—meaning Carpenter probably wasn't much interested in reading literature. And Carpenter sort of confirmed that in writing "I read your 'Maurice' after all", implying he was indeed reluctant to read at first.

Still, it made absolute sense for Forster to send the story back to the man who, in a manner of speaking, held the copyright of Maurice in flesh before Forster even finished it.

So the question is: did Carpenter know that Maurice was inspired by him and his lover George Merrill? Did he know that he was the real-life Maurice and Merrill was the real-life Alec? Perhaps that was why he was reluctant to read the novel at first?

#edward carpenter #em forster maurice #maurice em forster #em forster #edward morgan forster #maurice #maurice 1987 #maurice hall #maurice 1914 #maurice 1971 #alec scudder #george merrill #clive durham #1914 #1910s

[ang3l-fac33]

hello!

my name is angel! <3 i’m really nervous to be doing this because i’m new to all this but i’m giving it a shot anyway! so i apologize for any bad grammar, punctuation, etc. please be patient with me! <3

some things about me/ basic info:

-my name is angel

-i am 18!

-i am aroace

-i have an obsession with lackadaisy :3

what fandoms i’ll write for:

-hazbin hotel

-lackadaisy

(these are the only ones i’m willing to do for now since these are the two that have the strongest hold on me rn ^w^ but i might add more in the future!)

what characters i’ll write for:

-anyone in the hazbin series except for valentino. fuck that guy

-anyone in lackadaisy!

what i will do:

-fluff

- x readers

- suggestive things (maybe)

-oneshots

- angst (warning im not good at writing angst since all the stuff ive written before is mostly fluff!)

what i won’t do:

- smut (i can’t write smut)

- anything weird or illegal

- character x oc’s

other notes:

it might take me some time to finish any requests sent due to me getting burnt out easily! that and as i said before i’m very nervous which kind of effects my writing and how good my fic’s may be. hopefully in the future i’ll learn to be more confident.

—

well i think that’s it for now guys! if you have any other questions or think there’s something i’m missing don’t be afraid to message me! :D bye bye!

#lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer morningstar #lackadaisy #boozecats #dorian zib zibowski #calvin freckle mcmurray #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby #mitzi may #lucifer magne

[raedshadowlegends]

Why Lore Olympus and Miraculous Ladybug are the Same Thing but in Different Fonts

Good evening, good day, hello and howdy. I am INCREDIBLY bored and I'm here to go on a nonsensical tangent about two pieces of media that I hate and have dedicated a vast amount of my free time to. This is all in good fun and all of my rudeness is intended to be satirical and/or comical unless indicated otherwise.

Now just to preface, if you know me then you know how much I dislike Miraculous Ladybug. Folks in my circle got to watch as I descended into madness writing a 64k word review on season 5. So I've spent an uncomfortable amount of time dissecting this show.

I have also spent an uncomfortable amount of time engaging with the shitshow that is Lore Olympus. And now my ass is gonna try and compare the two because there's a lot of shit going on here.

None of this is going to matter and it's all in good fun. Like I said, I am bored. And sometimes it's fun to compare stuff you hate.

Now let the insanity ensue. FP spoilers and MLB s5 spoilers below the cut btw.

To get a major difference out of the way, Miraculous Ladybug is a tv show. Lore Olympus is a webcomic.

But mediums aside, these two things still have a lot in common. So for the first comparison, I'd like to talk about the insecurity in both properties.

Insecurity

What I define as insecurity in this context is a piece of media that is too afraid to commit or adhere to a certain tone, story, style, etc. In short-- they don't know what they want to be.

Insecurity in Lore Olympus is a bit more obvious than with Miraculous so I'm gonna rant about that first.

Lore Olympus just straight up does not have a story to tell.

There are too many random ass plots being added and discarded on a whim for it to be a coherent story. A good way to explain it is kinda like this-- In this episode of LO, something cool new and interesting is set up and you have to keep reading to see what happens! And then nothing ever happens. Or it happens because the audience won't let the author forget so there's a half-assed attempt to wrap up that plot point.

LO is so insecure about what it is, it feels the need to add more and more to make it actually something. But what it is is a hollow story that lacks substance. So all of these new random plot points are kinda like bandaid solutions if that makes sense.

There are so many unfinished/under-utilized plot points that if you were to count out each and every one, you'd probably keel over dead before you finished. There's that many.

It's too insecure to commit to any one of them in the grand scheme of things.

I don't know how coherent all of that was so here's a shitty tl;dr

LO doesn't know what it wants to say anymore so it's just adding more shit to keep the reader "invested."

Yeah ok I think that makes more sense. As for Miraculous...

God. I fucking hate Miraculous.

It's insecure as hell and you can smell that shit from ten miles away. It's insecure with it's premise, I think.

If it just kept to the simple "monster-of-the-week" formula, I do not think I would have written so many words on it's fifth season.

Miraculous (apparently) had a grander story to tell beyond the "monster-of-the-week revert back to the status quo each episode."

But we don't see any of that in full swing till season 3, really. Which is a long ass time to get the ball rolling imo.

It's a little jarring to see the show go from the stupid kid status quo adventures to a heavy and emotional story??? And I say heavy and emotional with the most sarcastic tone possible because the only emotion I feel watching this shit is rage.

Despite wanting to make that shift to a serialized type of show, Miraculous was too scared to stray from the successful status quo format.

To explain a bit more I wanna talk about my review of the season.

While it is mostly filled with rude jokes and incomprehensible jargon, I bring up a lot of points in it regarding the state of things.

One of those things being the show's hesitancy to move the story along.

The fifth season was supposed to be a grand final battle and a conclusion to this story arc. But it was too scared to commit to that so there's way more episodes that are nothing but shipping fodder.

There are many episodes that season that just... feel the same. Just with different coats of paint. "Marinette is trying to date Adrien but she's awkward and clumsy and oh no! shenanigans ensue!" We've been doing this for 8 years.

If they want to tell a serialized story then they need to grow some balls and cut the shit we've seen a million times before.

Their insistence to stick to the status quo makes the writing exceptionally weak downright painful to sift through. It was too scared, too insecure, to stray from its formula.

That's a part of the reason why I think the season is paced so bad. There's so little time spent on the interesting parts of the story because they had to cram in as much shipping shit as possible. So by proxy, there was less time to tell a good story.

Both of these stupid ass properties don't know what they want to be. There are too many things being added and not enough balls to commit to any of them.

Now with both LO and MLB, we can all agree that the writing is pretty shit. Nothing new there. But shitty writing often bleeds into the characters and making them shitty by exposure. Almost like a spill of toxic waste, infecting anything near it and turning into a rotten pile of sludge and chemicals.

So yeah, the characters are ass as well. But I only wanna complain about the female leads for both of these things.

But just to mention Adrien and Hades, they are pretty similar. I won't go into detail but the short of it is, "Character with deep seated issues that could have been interesting, has a lot of potential, but is just kinda garbage in the end."

At least Adrien Agreste isn't monetizing death and has a bunch of shades in his basement doing his work.

Persephone and Marinette

So I always say that I don't like using the term 'Mary Sue' to describe a character. But as it turns out, I use that term a lot. So I'm not gonna lie about that anymore.

These two characters are Mary Sues.

Persephone first

Oh my god I hate Persephone a lot. She just ticks every box on my list of 'THINGS I HATE IN A CHARACTER.'

Which is funny because her character had a lot of promise and heart in the beginning.

I related to her a LOT when I picked up this comic before my frontal cortex developed. I related with her character and her struggles. Especially after the Apollo incident. That really stuck out to me. It was so powerful.

But all of those tiny things I liked about her character were stripped away. Her ambition to study in school? Poof, gone. Her charm? Not charming anymore. That kindness everyone in the story gushes about? I don't even think it was there in the first place.

Truth be told, I do need to reread this comic because the beginning is fuzzy as fuck in my walnut-sized brain. But I can tell you for certain that the way she was in the beginning is not who she is now.

And this isn't the case of a character going through an arc and developing and changing. She's just getting worse and the narrative treats it as a GOOD THING.

"Oh yeah, Persephone trashed Leuce's apartment instead of talking to her husband like an adult. She threatened to kill this nymph but you're supposed to find that endearing." Like, what??? I will not have a story try and get me to believe this is a good thing.

If this were a good story, Persephone's actions in that episode WOULDN'T BE REWARDED. But she's rewarded with sex for being a fucking psychopath towards a random nymph. Wow.

And that leads into my next point-- she can never be in the wrong ever.

AOW? Retconned, not her fault. It wasn't her fault she killed all those people. It's actually Eris' fault because she gave her wrath.

Trashing Leuce's apartment? She was in the right for that, apparently.

Killing people in a famine during the 10 year banishment? That's never explored, we just know she killed people, burned a library or something, and probably shot the president too. But it's fine, she's the good guy.

And most recently (and potentially the most frustrating);

Persephone causes winter.

Not her mother, Demeter, no fuck the myths. Persephone is the one who caused winter actually. AND SHE DID IT ON ACCIDENT SO TECHNICALLY IT IS NOT HER FAULT CAUSE SHE DIDNT MEAN TOOOO UWU She also probably killed a million flower nymphs in that snap freeze but its ok it doesn't matter.

WHAT?

WHAT THE FUCK? CMON NOW.

She's not going to receive any consequences for anything because she is just too perfect.

She's smarter than Athena, prettier than Aphrodite, better than her mother in every way, all the boys want her, she has a perfect body, she's pink, her eyes go red when she's angy, she has the most power of everyone in the world, she's a super rare fertility goddess, she has all the gifts, all the blessings, and none of the development.

It almost feels like a wattpad fanfic.

"My mom doesn't like me so she sold me to one direction and then I became queen of the underworld."

Yeah, I don't like her.

And the same can be applied to Marinette!

A character who is so blatantly perfect, the narrative fucking BENDS TO HER WILL.

She's a creepy ass stalker and has done some weird ass things to get close to this random famous white boy and it's all excused.

It's literally excused.

There is a rule about character backstories. They are supposed to provide an explanation for a character's behavior, not an excuse for it.

In season 5, episode 14 - Derision, we see a bit of Marinette backstory. Some stupid bullshit happens and Marinette essentially says she isn't going to say 'I love you' to anyone unless she knows literally everything about them.

She says a lot in that stupid ass scene but it's basically just saying that all of her stalking and creepy behavior is justified. Which it is not.

Marinette can do no wrong. The narrative won't allow it.

She's perfect in every way. And even when SHE is in the wrong, characters somehow find a way to apologize to her. Either that or she turns a situation about someone else into one about her self.

She's just the perfect character who ends up saving the world.

Fuck having Chat Noir face against his dad in the finale, Marinette has to girlboss all over the place and save the day but then actually lose because the "plot" demands it.

Oh yeah and she's probably never going to tell Adrien that his abusive dad was the villain they had been fighting for months. Do you think that's a good choice? I'll give you a hint; it is not.

It makes Marinette look like a HORRIBLE character but it's painted in a way that makes the viewer believe this is the right decision.

I don't think I need to get into specifics as to why that is wrong and disgusting.

If I had to make a prediction for this show going forward, she isn't going to tell him. It's going to be forgotten and she's going to be painted as the hero.

No flaws, no accountability, nothing.

Garbage character. Fucking hate it.

Both of these characters will never see consequences for their actions. Their bad actions are either excused or retconned out of existence. And that's not how you write a character btw. If you want them to be real, give them consequences. The world should not revolve around them. They should have flaws and issues that should be explored. But apparently that's too much work.

It's funny how both of these properties claim to be about feminism and somehow completely miss what feminism is

Miraculous thinks that feminism means "Girl power! Girls are better than guys in every way!" And Lore Olympus makes no attempt to be feminist at all. Women hate other women, and they don't get a lot of opportunities to explore and express themselves.

I could get into the whole purity culture shtick but that's a shitty rant for another day.

I've been ranting about this for a while and I got the big ones out of the way, methinks. I do want to get into the creators of both of these things but that is also a rant for another day.

Cause if I got into that now, we'd be here a while.

So let me just make a final comparison and wrap things up here. I don't think any of this makes a lot of sense but I hate both things and I'm passionate about it so I'm gonna keep rambling.

Miraculous Ladybug and Lore Olympus never attempt to grow as stories. They are both scared to try new things and to stick with it. Most of the time this results in rushed writing and horribly done characters.

It's so clear that both of these things are desperate to be something great but they just can't put in the work to get there.

Honestly, they both feel like the product of a team of yes-men. Bad decisions and errors slip by WAY too often and it's kind of embarrassing.

These are popular pieces of media and they have the resources to be great but they just aren't.

They're both too insecure to make something of themselves.

It's honestly really sad and I don't want this for either of these things. I want LO to be stunning and retell the myth of Persephone with the respect it deserves. I want MLB to be a serialized show with focus on the lore. Sure it can start as episodic but it can ease us into a deeper story and intrigue the viewer. But I want it to flesh out the world and be an entertaining experience.

It's sad but it's the way it is.

Who knows, maybe MLB season 6 will be good. And maybe LO will have a 4th season and it'll fix all the problems it has.

I dunno.

Thanks for reading this incoherent nonsense.

#This is a really random comparison between media so if you see this and are confused im so sorry #i got bored #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #anti lo #lo critical #unpopular lore olympus #unpopular lo #anti miraculous ladybug #ml salt #ml critical #ml criticism

[phoxey]

The White Raven (Bada Lee Gang AU)

Bada Lee x fem!reader

CW: nothing really tbh, mentions of gang-ish activities, Tatter is a lil asshole to reader, but we forgive her

AN: Thanks for yalls interest in my silly little writings, im so motivated

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 – I like being your hero, Bada.

She was like a book, that was open but written in a different language. You would have to learn the language, to decipher her.

“Thank you for saving me. We are even now.”

You came home after midnight. You had decided to get off a few bus stops earlier to take a walk, to free your head. Quietly you opened the front door and entered the apartment on tiptoes. You saw your mom sleeping on the couch, clutching to her phone. You looked at your phone and saw 17 missed calls from your mom.

“Sorry, mom.”, you whispered and gently took the phone out of her hand and put it on the living room table. Then you got the blanket out of your mom’s room and put it over her. She stirred but didn’t wake up.

When you got to your room, your little brother was sitting on your bed, still in his school uniform, that was stained with dirt and alcohol. He didn’t look up from his hands, as you sat down next to him, but you could see his tears falling.

“I didn’t tell her, but she knew.”, he choked up.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Let me deal with mom.”

“She is afraid you will go to prison.”

You hugged him. “I won’t. I struck a deal with them. How long has this been going on?”

“A few months…”

You grabbed his chin. “A few months? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You and mom already do so much for me, I didn’t want to be a burden. So I decided to deal it with myself.”, he admitted.

You shook your head. “I have made you promise me just one thing.”

“To focus on school and you will deal with everything else.”, he sighed.

“Exactly. So do it.”, you said sternly, but then your gaze softened and you kissed his forehead. “Go to bed now, you have school tomorrow.”

With that he left to his room and went to sleep.

You on the other hand stayed put on your bed and looked outside, your mind went back to the almost kiss with Bada. That girl was trouble, so why did you want to spend time with her? You didn’t need more trouble. You should stay away from her.

Just when you finished that thought, your phone vibrated with a new message.

Bada: [Hope you got home safe.]

You: [I did. Thanks again. You were my hero today.]

Bada: [I’ll gladly be your hero again. Though I also hope you won’t get into trouble again.]

You: [You are trouble.]

Bada: [Can I be your hero when I am your trouble?]

You: [Are you flirting with me?]

Bada: [I would never…]

You huffed and just threw your phone to the side. You still didn’t know what Bada’s intentions were. She would pull you in just to push you away again.

You decided to go to bed then, only to wake up a few hours later, because of the front door falling shut. On your nightstand was a big bowl of fried rice and a home-made coffee, as well as a note.

I know you don’t want to worry me, so I will accept it, if you don’t want to talk about last night. I am grateful to have you as my daughter and you are an amazing sister to your brother. I know you know this, but I want to say it again: Please stay away from trouble as much as possible. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you, Mom

Happily, you ate the fried rice and drank the coffee. Your eyes scanned the room and stopped at the mirror on the other side of the room. You were in dire need of a shower, but also you noticed what you were wearing. Bada’s Shirt. You would have to give it back, even though you kind of liked the way it looked on you.

You: [Good morning, Bada. I still have your shirt, can I drop by this evening and give it back?]

The reply came immediately.

Bada: [Hi! Yeah sure. I am home all day so you can come whenever.]

You: [Neat. I’ll wash it and come around 8pm?]

Bada: [Sounds good, see you later!]

You finally got up then and went to throw Bada’s shirt into the washing machine, before going to shower.  Before going to your other daytime jobs, you browsed through the internet, to find a new job for the night. Having been fired from the convenience store, would cut in drastically, so you needed to find something new as soon as possible. Of course, the convenience store was also the one that paid the best out of all your jobs.

Shortly after 8pm you knocked at Bada’s door, but to your surprise Bada didn’t open the door, but another blonde girl. You recognized her as one of the girls that Bada often hung around with. She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Who are you?”

“Is Bada there?”, you asked carefully.

“Depends on who is asking.”

Before you could answer, Bada showed up behind the girl. “Tatter you are scaring her.”

You were relieved to see her. “Hi, I brought your shirt.”

“Thank you, come in! Join us for a moment.”, Bada said.

“Are you sure? I would hate to intrude.”, you said, eying Tatter.

Bada just pulled you inside. Five other girls sat in Bada’s living room, chatting excitedly, and drinking beer. Tatter sat down with them again and all of the girls looked at you.

Bada put her hand on your back. “These are my girls, you met Tatter. The others are Lusher, Cheche, Minah, Soweon and Kyma. Girls, this is Y/N. The convenience store cashier I told you about, the one who beat up one of the twins.”

Lusher grinned. “Ahh, your hero girl?”

“Excuse me we are even, I saved her yesterday.”, Bada pouted and down sat with you, giving you a beer can.

“Really? From what?”, Cheche asked.

“I needed someone who would pick me up from the police station.”, you answered shyly.

“She beat up her brother’s bullies and got arrested for it.”, Bada added.

“Whaaaaat?”, the girls gasped.

“You are cool!”, Lushed grinned. “You really could be part of us.”

“Ah, no no. I don’t want any trouble really.”, you said blushing. “I am happy with my part time jobs… though I got fired from the convenience store.”

“Ah, that sucks.”, Bada said and rubbed your back.

“Getting money is hard, nowadays.”, Tatter said. “Legal work doesn’t pay well. And illegal work… is risky.”

“Like what? Selling drugs or robbery?”, you asked and drank your beer.

“Hypothetically, yes.”, Tatter said carefully.

“Hypothetically…”, you chuckled.

“Or getting back money, that other people owe to some of our friends and we get a commission.”, Bada explained.

“Yeah, like that idiot Shin Seonwoo…”, Kyma muttered.

Tatter immediately shut her up with an angry gaze, but you had heard her.

“Shin Seonwoo? That club owner? I know him.”, you said.

Bada looked at you. “You know him?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I used to go into his club a lot. And he always hit on me.”

“Ew disgusting…”, Minah shuddered.

Bada was silent for a moment, deep in thought, as the chatter died down.

“What are you thinking about?”, you asked and laid your hand on her arm, which made her head jerk up. The look in her eyes was undefinable.

“You need money?”, Bada asked you slowly.

You nodded slowly. “Obviously.”

“I’ll give you your monthly pay from the convenience store, for one hour of your time.”, she said.

“W-What? Bada I am not doing anything illegal. Not even for you.”, you gasped.

Bada shook her head and took your hands. “You wouldn’t be doing anything illegal.”

“What are you thinking about Bada?”, Tatter asked.

Bada kept her eyes on you. “I just need you to distract him. If he likes and trusts you, you are perfect for that. So that we can go into his office and get our money back.”

“And you’d pay me a monthly wage?”, you asked slowly.

The offer was working in your head. Bada nodded eagerly.

“It’s safe? What if he finds out I am distracting him for you?”

“He won’t, we will be in and out fast. And I will always protect you. I promise.”, Bada said.

“And just that? I don’t want to be part of all of this. This is a one-time thing?”

Bada nodded. “A one-time favour. I promise, no risk for you.”

You slowly nodded. The money would buy you some time to find a new job. It was just a one-time thing, with no risk attached. And you would help Bada, getting money back from a well-known asshole.

“Really? You’ll help us?”, Lusher asked excitedly.

“Thank you, thank you.”, Cheche said, beaming.

“Can I pick you up next Friday at 9pm? Do you have a nice party dress?”, Bada asked.

“Yeah, I know what he likes. Don’t worry. I’ll get him to talk to me and concentrate on me.”, you smiled.

“You are saving my day again.”, Bada grinned.

You winked. “I like being your hero, Bada.”

Chapter 5

#bada lee #swf #swf2 #bada lee swf #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #swf2 x reader #team bebe

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

I've always been curious. How much does the English curriculum focus on reading and comprehension compared to analysis of literature in non-English speaking countries? I imagine it's not until the last few years of school that things like Shakespeare are even remotely considered something worth teaching.

How do I answer this without turning it into a TEDtalk...

SO.

The QUICK answer is: It depends.

It depends on the country. It depends on the school. It depends on the curriculum.

I'm afraid you've fallen into the hole called 'non-English speaking countries' - and referring to them under a single umbrella... when in reality, the curriculum of, say, Japan's EFL education and Norway's EFL education are WILDLY different. Hell, even the Philippines and Japan are more different than you might suspect.

Personally, as someone who has taught English as a Foreign Language in high school in Japan (albeit briefly, it was a one-year contract to fill in for another teacher who left the position due to COVID stuff, most of the time I'm an Elementary School teacher), I can tell you that 99% of the high schools in Japan will not have Shakespeare ANYWHERE on their curriculum. Most people in Japan will never run across Shakespeare unless they take a specialized class... probably IN UNIVERSITY.

Shakespeare is a difficult, antiquated form of English. It does not appear on any standardized testing. Why would anyone except native speakers take the time to learn it?

The LONGER answer is:

Students in English-speaking countries enter school knowing how to speak English.

I know there's a tendency to think of 6 year olds as these dum-dums who say things like 'I goed school' but anyone who has actively spent more than 10 minutes around a first grader will know that, barring developmental difficulties and learning disabilities, they actually speak using full sentences and correct grammar 99% of the time.

Schools in areas where English is already spoken natively can focus on:

spelling (oh gods English spelling is a fucking mess, I'm so sorry children I am SO sorry)

punctuation (spoken language doesn't have punctuation, so we have to teach kids to convert pauses and concepts into commas and sentence breaks)

written format (and various ways to apply it in different situations)

literature (famous books, novels, stories which are considered a good serving platter of concepts like analysis and metaphor and other tools we use to make written communication effective and interesting)

Schools in areas where English is NOT spoken must FIRST focus on:

Words (they must memorize on average 2000 to have a basic understanding down)

Pronunciation (each language has different sounds, and English has a LOT of weird sounds that many foreign speakers don't know how to produce... and it takes practice)

Basic grammar (Thing goes first. Doing-action-word goes next. Thing-that-has-action-done-to-it usually goes after that. Sometimes we have a time word that goes-- oh god how do you explain this to an 11 year old oh god)

Maybe spelling by the end of elementary school (my 5th graders only know how to write basic 3-4 letter words)

Basic reading, grammar and punctuation by the end of middle school, along with basic conversational skills

Ability to write a whole sentence, maybe a paragraph, by the time they finish middle school

High school is basically just reviewing more complex grammar because holy fuck is there a lot of it

Shakespeare? Who the FUCK has time for that?! These kids are still struggling to understand how a gerund works!

Things that native English speakers know on instinct, like the fact that this is a weird sentence:

the red big dog sits on the car

(vs the big red dog sits in the car)

...must be taught, little by little, to non-native English speakers, which takes TIME TIME TIME.

So next time you meet someone who speaks English as a second language - I need you to be kind to them. I need you to be thoughtful. And I need you to be thankful you were able to learn all these crazy ass grammar rules and spelling when you were still a young child and your brain was silly-putty in the shape of a vacuum that sucked up vocabulary.

.............fuck ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵀᴱᴰᵗᵃˡᵏ

#chekhov answers

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Just before they leave Kansas the group decides to eat and rest before continuing, giving Y/N the time she needs to visit her mother’s gravestone.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, dead parent, visiting a graveyard, lonely, angst with a happy ending (the happy ending almost didn’t happen)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44

Word Count: 2022

Reunion

(Master list, Previous ch, Next ch)

I sit in the backseat of the Impala, the wind blowing from the open window, messing up my hair and the book I have in my lap. My spell book. I look down at the hard brown book, only minutes ago did I have a small fight with Dean about what to do with it but even now the urge to do something itches at my bones.

With a small huff I open my bag pulling out a pen before flipping open to the page, on the top left corner I write “April 2005–bags did not work on a house haunted with a poltergeist.” The small warning did nothing to ease me but it would have to do for now, because to rip the page would be to destroy a piece of my mother and a piece of myself.

Dean was right, I'm not afraid to admit that, I am afraid to admit, however, that I acted harshly to his remarks. I knew I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I knew it even in the moment but the words left me too quickly for any rationale to hit me. I felt bad, it must have been hard for him to see his mom again and then there I was causing an argument to rub salt in a wound. Most of all I pity myself for getting like that, an awful anger festering in my gut.

"Hey, how 'bout we grab a bite and take a breather?" Dean suddenly speaks, breaking the silence of the car. I look up from my lap, where the book rested, I meet his eyes in the rear view mirror giving a small nod. I was hoping we would stop somewhere for a while so I could sneak away and visit someone. Sam agrees too so we drive on for a while.

I watch the view from my window the whole time, watching the trees and buildings go by when it suddenly becomes very familiar. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not but we pulled right up in front of my favorite diner, I always went there it had become a go-to very quickly. Different memories flash in my mind to the many times I went with my brother, friends, and even Dean. It’s then that I think it must have been on purpose but instead of happiness filling me it’s a sort of dred.

Even so nothing more is said as we exit the car, but just as I close the door behind me I say, “You guys go ahead, I'm not hungry.”

Dean gives me a confused look but it’s Sam that speaks up, “Do you want us to save you something?”

“No no it’s okay, thanks” I shake my head, clutching the strap of my bag to me. “Could you just text me whatever motel we’ll be staying at, in case I come back and you're not here”

“Where ‘you heading off to?” Dean asks, confusion and concern written in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk around” I half lie with a tight lipped smile to finish it off. Still Dean looks at me skeptically, which I suppose is completely fair, but he doesn't say anything about my blatant lie either. With a simple bye I walk away swiftly, feeling the burn of their gaze on me, only slowing down when I'm out of sight.

My feet guide me, the route so familiar I could do it blindfolded. I spent so many years in this town, and yet it all seems so foreign. It was like I was walking back in time directly toward my past, except nothing is exactly as I remembered it to be. I hate to admit it but I never thought I’d be doing this again.

At each crossroad I wait at, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. A desperate sadness filling my lungs, how was it possible for something to be so familiar yet so foreign? It didn’t make sense. Yes time changes all things, and yet I think I expected it to still be the same like it couldn’t possibly change because this is where I grew up. Maybe it was because I never thought of this place anymore, hadn’t needed too. My past died here and I moved on because it was the only thing left to do. I never came back, never visited, never wondered what my friends who I met here were doing.

It hurt too much to think of Kansas when out of all the wonderful memories only the worst ones stuck out, branding itself to this place I called home.

I slow to a stop in front of a flower shop, the same one I always went to. I enter the small establishment, the bell ringing as I open the door. The strong aroma of all sorts of flowers hitting my nose, I don’t need to look around to know exactly what I want. What I came for.

I walked up to the counter immediately noticing the owner wasn't behind it, I remembered she always was and she even refused to hire any workers because this was her store and she didn’t want any “hooligans” to ruin her work. I have to remind myself that it’s been years, not a week or a month but years since I’ve been here. She probably retired or…no. I won’t let myself think that.

I leave with my bouquet of forget me-nots and white roses, my moms two favorite flowers. I hold the assortment gently as I continue my long walk. My mother loved forget me-nots she would gush over the meaning and the many poems and analogies she had heard, she was a romantic so the meaning was never lost on her. I definitely got that from her.

Eventually I arrive at the cemetery, the large black gate creaking as I push it open. I carry on the path taking a couple twists and turns before arriving at the gravestones. It was unkempt with dead leaves covering it, the sight alone made me want to cry. I wipe away the leaves that lay on top of it, using my shirt to clear the dirt from her name not caring about it getting dirty. I sit criss-cross right in front of her, “Hi mommy” I smile sadly, tears already filling my eyes. “I brought you flowers” I lift them slightly in emphasis.

Feeling it to be too improper to just lie them down, I produce a glass vase filled with water. Carefully I take the plastic wrapping off the bouquet, freeing the flowers from their restraint before placing them in the vase just beside her grave stone.

I let out a heavy sigh, “I missed you…I’m sorry I haven’t visited you since I moved away”

“God.” I sigh, looking up to the blue sky, fluffy clouds scattered over it, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

“You know” I laugh sadly, looking back at her, “This whole time we were here I planned on seeing you and I thought of so many things i’d like to tell you about, but now.…” I breathe out. “I don’t know.”

“There’s hardly a day that goes by in which I don’t miss you, It’s gotten easier since, well, you know.”

“But being here.” My voice trembles, “I feel as if I could lose my mind to the grief, I thought I was past that. Past being so…lost. Alone?”

I laugh, tears falling from my eyes, “I could really use one of your hugs right now”

I wiped my face, my cheeks feeling stiff from the tears, “I met your friend Missouri, she’s great, I'm surprised you or dad never mentioned her before.”

“Um. I’m with the Winchesters right now, helping ‘em out” I tell her, trying to think of the positives right now instead of the squeezing of my heart.

I swallow down a sob, my throat feeling tight with emotion once more, “I know you’d like to hear all the good in my life but being here, I can’t— I just. I miss you”

“I don’t care if that’s redundant when it’s the truth, I just…I’m so lonely” A sob breaks through my lips, and the tears flow down my face rapidly only this time I don’t try and conceal it. “That sounds so horrible to say because I’m with people I love and care so deeply for, yet something feels wrong. Something is missing and I don't feel quite whole.”

More tears fall, my eyes blur with it. Her gravestone and the flowers turn into a gray, green, blue, and white mix. “Have you ever felt that way?” I ask her even though I know I won’t get a response.

I sit there in silence for a few moments not really knowing what to say or what to do. I don’t want to leave just yet because I don’t know when I’ll be back, and to leave would feel like turning my back on her all over again. I scoot the way I sit so that my back is resting on the side of her gravestone with my legs extended in front of me. I lean my head to the side to rest on the frigid stone.

“I figure I’d find you here” A deep familiar voice suddenly says. My eyes shoot up from my fingers, watching Dean's approaching figure, a cup of something in each hand. I swiftly sit up, wiping at my face quickly trying to remove any evidence that I'd been crying, “What are you doing here.”

“Well Sammy bailed on me for some beauty sleep after you left. Noticed you were off, especially when you skipped out on one of your favorite diners.

‘Figured you’d end up here.” He’s closer now only a few paces away, I stand up to meet him. I don’t understand why he came or how he even remembered where her grave would be, “No offense but why’d you come here?”

He shrugs all nonchalantly, “Didn’t want you to be alone.” It was sweet he was here but it almost felt awkward, like this was too private of a moment. “I can leave if you want” He offers, sensing my hesitance.

“No! no it’s okay, thank you for coming, that's really sweet of you.” I spill out quickly, leaving out the part that my mom wouldn’t mind him being here either.

He shrugs again, “You’d do the same for me.”

“Also, I brought you a milkshake for old time sake. Wasn’t sure what flavor you’d go for, but knowing how indecisive you are anyway I got you a vanilla chocolate mix thing.” He extendeds one of the blue paper cups towards me and I knew he got them from the diner.

I take the cup from him, the coolness immediately seeping into my hand, “You know me well” I smile looking down at the milkshake not being able to meet his eyes. Now sweet wasn’t even the right word to describe him, he brought us milkshakes because when we hung out we would almost always go to a diner and get them with fries or a whole meal depending.

“I told you I did” He responds, reminding me again of our previous “fight.”

I look back at my moms grave, the flowers I brought sitting in the vase somehow the scene feeling lighter now. “We can stay, drink these here, if you want.” He offers, again sensing what I’m thinking.

I turn my head back towards him, this time meeting his green eyes, “No it’s okay.” And it was, I knew my mom would want this. She would want me to walk away now when I was happier and with someone I loved—that romantic in her shining through again. He nods and we begin to walk away, I take a sip of the milkshake, “God that’s good” I smile and he laughs.

We walk silently mostly, “Sorry about before, with the spell book. You were right.”

He swings his free arm around my shoulder tugging me closer to his side, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

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[nicoline1998enilocin]

Fluffcember Day 1 | Don't go baking my heart

Pairing | Bakery Owner!Tony Stark x Employee!Female!Reader

Word count | 1.4K

Summary You and Tony are working to prepare a large order in his bakery when a thunderstorm threatens to squash every chance you two have of finishing on time. When there's a power outage, you get a panic attack, and Tony's there to help you through it. In the heat of the moment, he can't keep his feelings to himself and blurts them out, leading to the perfect evening after all.

Warning(s) Mutual pining, use of pet name: Peach, unspecified age gap, coworkers to lovers, swearing, oddly timed love confession

Angst | Panic attack during a power outage, Reader is scared of thunderstorms

Smut | Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), grinding, Daddy kink

Rating

Explicit (E)

A/n This one-shot is written for day 1 of my Fluffcember 2023 Challenge! I love baked goods and I have a soft and wet spot for Tony, so naturally, I am starting the month off with him. Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and drooling with me over this fic, and I hope you will all enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. 🎄

EventsMasterlist | Bakery AU | @buckys-wintersoldier Masterlist | Coworker!Reader | @anyfandomkinkbingo

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit: the owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Read on AO3

''Can you stay behind and help me out, Peach?'' Tony asks as you turn the lock on the door. Before turning around, you let out a small sigh. Not because you don't want to stay, but this means you will be the only one in the bakery with him tonight.

Since you started working in the bakery, you've had a crush on him. Hell, you have fallen deeply in love with the man, but you've always been too scared to admit it out of fear that you'll lose your job. Despite that, you're always civil to him, and you bury your feelings away.

Something you need to be aware of is that Tony shares those very same feelings for you, though he wants to stay within the employee-boss boundary. That doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it, though, and it's getting harder not to act on his feelings.

''Of course, what do you need my help with?'' you say with a bright smile, tucking the keys into your pocket for later.

''Remember the order for the gingerbread cookies tomorrow? I still need to make around 200 of them, and if we do it together, we will have them done in no time at all,'' he tells you before you nod.

Now that you're not wearing your apron anymore, he's getting a good look at your outfit and hums appreciatively. You always try to dress nice, but during the winter season, you can wear your comfy, cozy sweaters, which are your favorite.

''Are you going to keep staring, or are we going to bake some cookies?'' you quip, and he lets out a genuine, deep laugh, which has your cheeks heating up in response.

The next few hours are spent baking and decorating cookies, but when thunder scares you, you accidentally squeeze the bag with icing too hard, making it go everywhere.

''Oh, fuck!'' you exclaim as the white icing goes nearly everywhere, and within less than a second, Tony is by your side to see if you're hurt.

''What happened here, Peach?'' Tony asks as he's taking in the damage, all while you're fighting back the tears. You're trembling from fear because ever since you were a kid, you've been afraid of thunderstorms.

''I-I'm sorry, I got s-scared from the s-storm,'' you say while trying your hardest not to burst out in sobs. That task was deemed impossible as one escaped, and you slapped your hand over your mouth.

''Hey, it's okay, Peach. I'm with you, and there's nothing to be afraid of-'' is all he could say before another loud bang was heard, the loud rumble immediately after.

You shrieked loudly and tried to curl in on yourself, but you couldn't because Tony had taken hold of you and pulled you with your back against his chest. He keeps trying to calm you by whispering you're safe with him, but you lose every last sense of calm when the power goes out.

''No, no, no, no, no!'' you keep repeating as you're squeezing your eyes, panic taking over every sense in your body right now. Tony lets you go so he can turn you around, but as soon as he does that, you grab a hold of his arm.

''Don't go,'' you whisper through ragged breaths, and he doesn't.

''Can you look at me, Peach? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, but I need you to look at me,'' he says, soft yet stern at the same time, and you do, though tears are now freely down your face.

''Let's sit down first, okay? Just on the floor, and I'll be with you. I'm not going anywhere; I'm with you,'' he says as he guides you to the floor, where you sit down on your knees, Tony doing the same.

Your breathing starts getting erratic as another loud crash, and rumble are sounding through the bakery, and you shake your head, but Tony can't stand to see you like this.

''Peach! Look at me!'' he says sternly this time, grabbing your face to have you look at him. Sure, this may not have been the smartest thing to do, but it worked like a charm.

''Breathe with me, Peach. Focus on my breathing and nothing else,'' he tells you as he inhales deeply before exhaling, and he continues this until you have your breathing under control.

His large hands are still on your cheeks, and yours have found their place on his biceps, feeling every muscle as they move. You've always known he was strong, but to feel him move under your fingertips is an entirely different story.

Tony looks deep into your eyes, and suddenly, he blurts out how he feels, figuring it's now or never.

''I'm in love with you, Peach, and I know it's unprofessional to admit that I have a crush on my employee, but I need you to know how I feel. And I want you, more than you'll ever know, but if you don't-''

''Tony, I- I'm in love with you too,'' you tell him nervously. You went from having a panic attack one moment to confessing your feelings to the next, but there's never been a moment when it felt more right.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he closes the distance, and you can taste the faint taste of gingerbread and coffee on his tongue, and his cologne is invading your nose. The only thing on your mind is Tony, the thunderstorm and panic attack wholly forgotten.

When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed, but a small smile is tugging on the corners of your lips. You want to savor this moment for as long as possible because it feels perfect.

''Let's finish so we can go to my place,'' you whisper to Tony, and he agrees, but not without one more kiss. After having that first taste, he can't get enough, and you're both hooked on one another.

After you've gotten up, Tony helps you clean up the icing you made a mess with earlier, and now and again, you're stealing a glance, or there's a lingering touch. But the warmth in your chest never leaves, and it warms you from the inside out.

Before you know it, you're at your apartment with Tony and on the couch, wrapped up in a steamy make-out session. Most of your clothing has already met its inevitable faith on the floor, and now you're left in your purple lingerie while Tony's only wearing his boxer briefs.

''Tony, please-'' you beg softly, and you lift yourself off of his lap so he can pull his underwear down, and your panties are pushed to the side.

He slides in immediately, and even though he's a lot bigger than you had anticipated, you sincerely enjoy the stretch of him. A loud moan leaves your lips as you sit down completely, your ass touching his thighs.

''Oh, fuck, don't ever want to leave here, Peach, it's perfect inside you,'' Tony whispers between soft kisses on your neck, combined with soft nibblings that have your breath hitch each time.

You roll your hips at a slow pace, and your head falls back as you feel him sliding in and out of you. You have imagined sex with Tony to be many things, but this? This has exceeded every expectation.

''I'm glad you want me too, Daddy; been wanting to do this for so long,'' you tell him before capturing his lips with yours and swallowing every moan leaving his lips.

Hearing you call him that makes him impossibly harder, and he can't get enough of it, of you. He never wants anyone else but you, and now that he has you, he's never letting you go.

''Hmm, me too, Peach,'' he says before his hand glides between your bodies, and his thumb makes contact with your puffy clit. You've been on the edge of an orgasm for a little while, but you enjoyed feeling Tony inside you so much you'd happily wait to cum.

''Fuckin' fuck! Gonna cum with me, Peach? Gonna cum with me as I fuck my cum deep inside that sweet, delicious, tight pussy of yours?'' he asks, and you nod before letting your orgasm take over.

Your head falls back, and Tony lets out a deep groan as you milk him for everything he's worth until every last drop is squeezed out of him, and he's extremely sensitive.

You pull off and let yourself fall onto the couch next to Tony so you can catch your breath. But this was only the beginning, and he didn't let you get much rest that night. It's a good thing you didn't have to get up early.

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