#i love this description. his entire writing style is so beautiful

[spritelysprites]

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

#i love this description. his entire writing style is so beautiful #stardust #neil gaiman #tristran thorn #tristan thorn #quote #book #wall

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202 

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that. 

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace. 

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

 Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys. 

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company. 

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.” 

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.” 

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy. 

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.” 

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.” 

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features. 

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders. 

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base. 

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.” 

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

 You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream. 

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t. 

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend. 

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours. 

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues. 

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

 Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you. 

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention. 

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? 

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once. 

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing. 

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too. 

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex. 

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet. 

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking. 

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating. 

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too. 

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack. 

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach. 

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@greenbaby12 @eli2447 @the-romanian-is-bae @luckyladycreator2 @lunamoonbby @angeliccks @daisydaisygoose @inky-sun @fighterpilothoe @pulisvertz @wildxwidow @angelbabyange @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @shanimallina87 @abaker74 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #you play stupid games you win stupid prizes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #past rooster x reader #past bradley bradshaw x reader #past bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster is a dick #he's not the greatest in this #top gun imagine #top gun angst

[bloodandtime]

savage good boy

uhhh inspired by this post of eddie wearing a skirt!! everyone say thank u @eddiemunsonwillbethedeathofme! wrote this in just a couple hours so this has not been edited whatsoever so have fun!! wc: 7.3k

cw: 18+ mdni, oral (m receiving) fem!reader (actually could be gn!reader i don’t think there’s description of r other than having hair!!) eddie wearing a skirt, ass smacking, bad writing, too many uses of the word ‘you’, too many pet names, weed, cum sharing, i think that’s it?

“Hey, Edwarrrrrd,” you say, letting yourself into the trailer. The music that was playing decreased in volume, “You in your room?” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door.

You can hear Eddie grunt followed by an expletive before he calls out, slightly pained, “Yeah! I’ll be out in a sec!” Not feeling the need to respond you take a familiar path to the kitchen to grab two waters and back to the couch.

You’ll for sure be smoking, which means coughing so water’s always essential to have at your fingertips when you’re with Eddie.

You’re settled when his door creaks open, Eddie’s nervous voice rings out,

“So, I’m wearing something new.” He’s still hidden in the hallway, “Will you tell me if I look stupid?”

Your heart aches at the nervousness in his tone, “Eddie’s there’s no way you look stupid. You know I love your style.” smiling, even though he can’t see you, you continue softly, “Please come out, Eddie.”

Eddie steps around the corner and you gasp, warmth already spreading in your lower belly, and down, down, down. You grip the arm of couch, tight.

“Holy Shit, Eddie.” You sound breathless, looking him up and down, slowly drinking him in.

Eddie’s got a cropped faded black sleeveless shirt on, the exposed skin shows his happy trail leading down to a black plaid skirt that ends mid thigh, with a chain on the waistband. His pretty pale thighs are covered in fishnets that lead into his black biker boots.

His hair is in a half up half down do, with space buns. Dangling from his ears is a cross earring and two gold hoops.

You’ve been quiet a little too long and now Eddie’s nervous. One leg crossing in front of the other, closing in on himself.

You immediately stand up and take his hands, asking him to look at you. Once his watery brown eyes meet yours, you let it all out.

“Eddie, you look fucking insane.” You breathe out, he flushes a deeper red, “Like… un fucking real. You’re so beautiful.”

Eddie all but beams, finally squeezing your hands in return. He pulls you into a warm hug,

“Thank you,” he whispers, breath warm on your neck he continues “you being so kind, means a lot to me, loser.”

Pulling away to meet his gaze, you say, “I’m not just being kind, dummy” pulling on a strand of his hair teasingly, he glares but a smile is glued to his lips “you know I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, Eddie.”

You maneuver so you’re standing beside him with an arm around his waist and decide to be bold.

The smack you land on his ass honestly kind of stings your hand but look of shock and indignation on Eddie’s face is worth it, “Now let’s smoke sweet heart.” You smirk and move toward the couch.

“You just smacked my ass.” He deadpans.

Sitting and smiling up at him, “I did. Don’t act so scandalized, you’re a grown ass man.” Eddie finally sits, still pink in the cheeks and clearly shocked, “You’ve definitely slapped my ass too, so I really don’t know why you’re so shocked.”

He shakes his head and laughs, curls bouncing, “Why’d you smack mine though?” He presses, as he sits down, close but not touching.

You smile, shy. “I dunno, you just look cute, I felt the need to.” You finish with an embarrassed laugh, heat rising up your neck burning your cheeks.

Eddie splutters, “I am not cute. I am hot and sexy,” he finishes with a wiggle of his eyebrows and you laugh as you lean back into the couch.

You watch him roll, his long fingers make quick work of producing two joints, your eyes glued to his hands the entire time.

Watching him light up is a treat. Something about Eddie manspreading in this particular outfit sends your brain haywire. You’re usually better at hiding your crush on your best friend but today is going to be unbelievably difficult.

Eddie leans his head back on the couch as he releases the smoke from his mouth and passes you the joint, you’re too stuck in your head to notice him staring at you.

He’s curious about your reaction, smacking his ass and you really truly looked like you wanted to eat him alive when he first stepped around the corner.

Christ, if he knew this was all it took to get you going he would have bought a skirt a long time ago.

Eddie is ashing the joint and you’re both now thigh to thigh on the couch. Eddie had moved closer after he had put a movie on. Which you haven’t paid attention too, alo you can focus on is Eddie’s tummy sticking out of the crop top, and taking in every inch of his thighs that’s exposed when adjusts in his seat.

Watching him ash the joint pushes you over the edge, your self control vanishing.

“Eddie, can I suck you off?” He chokes on the exhale of his last hit, his brain just a little fuzzy so he’s worried he misheard.

“What did you say sweetheart?” He asks, brown eyes wide staring into yours. You want to fold in on yourself and run out the trailer door but you’re already in this deep.

“Can I suck you off?” Reaching out to run a hand on his thigh, you continue “I’ve not stopped thinking about it since you came out in that skirt.” You sound desperate, Eddie’s cock twitches at your tone.

“Please, Eddie.” You slide down to the floor between his legs, kneeling with your hands on your thighs.

Eddie can barely breathe, so he musters all his courage to nod his head. Placing your hands on his ankles you run them up to his thighs so slowly, then back down again, then up again, repeating. He thinks he could cum from the sight of you on your knees and the feel of your hands on him alone.

“Need your words, baby.” You say as you squeeze his thighs.

He inhales, “Please. P-please suck my cock.”

You press a kiss to the inside of both of his thighs right where his skirt ends, soft and sweet. “Good boy.” He whimpers in response and you flip up his skirt.

You gasp again.

He’s not wearing anything underneath other than his fishnets. His hard cock is stuck to his thigh, pointing up to his belly.

You groan, pressing your head against his other thigh as you look up at him. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks are flushed and his buns are starting to fall out. He’s stunning.

“Eddie, I can’t believe you’ve just had your cock out this whole time.” You mouth at his thigh, nipping at it as you pull away and he sighs.

His cock is pretty, long and thick. It would be a stretch but you know if would feel so fucking good.

You lean forward to mouth at one of his soft balls, his cock still stuck under his fishnets. He gasps and lets out a long fuuuuuuuck as his hands find the back of your head.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” you say as you pull away and rip his tights, his cock springs up finally free. Eddie gasps, jerking his hips as you take the head of his cock in your mouth, tongue laving over his frenulum.

Eddie tugs at your hair with a long lew moan followed by, “Holy fuck, babe.”

Relaxing your jaw and pressing forward, you take him deeper. Eddie’s right hand travels a path to your cheek, his thumb stroking the apple of it.

“Look at me.” He says, voice strained.

You look up at him and he’s even more of a mess than before. You want to wreck him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His thumb strokes your cheek as you bob up and down on his cock, gazes locked “taking me so fucking well. You like sucking your best friend’s cock?” You groan around him and pull off.

Gasping, you agree, “I do, Eddie. Always want your cock” One hand goes to massage his balls and you lick long languid strokes up his shaft. “I especially love sucking your cock while you look so pretty in your tiny little skirt.”

He grasps at your roots and tugs. as you place your mouth back on the head of his cock and hum. You press further down on him, trying to reach the base.

What you can’t reach, you’ve started jerking off. The shlick sound of your hand loud in your ears, but all you’re really focused on is Eddie’s whimpers and moans and sweet nothings he keeps saying.

“Baby, baby, baby” he bables as you swallow around him, “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

You hum in response, pressing further down.

He’s a whimpering babbling mess above you, gripping tight onto your hair he starts to jerk his hips up, fucking your throat.

He’s cumming in your mouth soon after, with a long pretty whine and sweet call of your name.

He yanks you up off him, and kisses you full on the mouth. You settle in his lap with a thigh on either side of his as your hands find their way to his hair. He moans as he tastes himself on you, practically licking your mouth clean of his essence.

Pulling away he licks up the rest of his cum that had leaked out and down your chin and neck. He pulls you back into a bruising kiss.

You both pull away to breathe, warm in the face and chests heaving. Eddie has both of his hands on your face, his thumbs take a gentle path back and forth on your cheeks. Closing your eyes you sigh happily and lean into his touch.

You feel his lips on yours once again and your grips tightens on his shoulders where your hands have made home.

Eddie pulls away, just enough thar you can hear him say, his lips still brushing yours with every word, “Give me 10 minutes, sweetheart and I’ll show you just how good I look in this skirt while I’m fucking you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson smut headcannon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut #alright lets see if it shows up now #title is a japanese breakfast song

[caspersickfanfics]

Appreciation Post #1

(This is my way of thanking other creators! If you're mentioned here please know that I appreciate you and your work has made my day (probably multiple days, actually). Having said that, if you don't want to be in this post, please let me know and I'll be happy to edit it!)

Through the Snow by @dutifullyshamelessearthquake

Warnings: vomiting, standard sickfic stuff Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Cyno, Tighnari Highlights: long!!! (almost 20k!!!), attentive/gentle Tighnari, suffering/clingy Cyno, slow build-up and pacing

Excerpt: Cyno coughed violently into his hands, before his body lurched with the motion. Tighnari cringed, hearing liquid splatter on the wooden floor. Cyno's back heaved violently beneath his hands, and there was more splattering. He coughed wetly a few times, before inhaling a sharp, shuddery breath. The air smelled sour.

There was no question that this would be in the list this week - what an absolute dream to have a multi-chapter Cyno/Tighnari sickfic! The excellent pacing and general progression of the writing paired with extremely attentive caretaker Tighnari makes this work one of my all time favorites. Overall just a great mix of hurt and comfort!

Very Important Bonus Note: There's also some amazing art for this fic here and here by @relevantlucidity which I revisit frequently and even more art for it here by @myfriendscallmeasimp which is so precious!!!

Unfortunate Circumstances by @imill

Warnings: vomiting (induced and natural), scat/diarrhea, standard sickfic stuff; incomplete fic Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Scaramouche, Childe Highlights: long - about 7k of pure misery, balances complex emotions - fear, worry, guilt, disgust, pity - extremely well, wonderfully descriptive diarrhea + vomit combination if that's your thing, 2 sick characters for the price of one

Excerpt: Childe gasped, his chest tight as he looked at the trembling figure in front of him. He had thought semi-conscious, carsick Scaramouche looked horrible but this one looked even worse. Without a second thought, he pulled the smaller harbinger into a hug, fingers gently running through his wet hair. And Scaramouche didn’t try to fight it, he didn’t have the energy. He sobbed into Childe’s chest, mentally cursing himself out for being so fucking weak.

The number of times I have reread this fic specifically is frankly concerning. If you're into the emeto/diarrhea combination, it's a must-read. It's heart-wrenching, brutal, and ultimately really sweet and comforting. I don't always like fics where the caretaker is also ill, but this one feels realistic without minimizing either characters' pain. It's just an absolute treasure and I adore it.

Scaramouche Art by @warmmilkytea

Warnings: vomit/emeto art Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Scaramouche Highlights: lovely + comforting art style, captures the ✨ angst ✨ so well, such a great visual depiction of the buildup before being sick

This entire blog is right up my alley to be quite honest. I'm really not knowledgeable about art but these works make me feel things!! Wonderfully comforting things. When I look at these pieces, it's easy to picture a narrative around them and I adore that. This one specifically does such a lovely job of depicting one of my favorite bits to write - the buildup. I visit this blog often and just scroll through when I'm struggling with inspiration to write, so I'm very grateful that it exists!

Sharing a Receptacle by @danafeelingsick

Warnings: vomiting, food, standard sickfic stuff Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Tighnari, Cyno Highlights: extremely high quality writing, beautiful balance of dialogue / body language / descriptions of the internal world and emotions of the characters

I've been waiting for a month to recommend this fic, I've read it so many times it must be tattooed to the back of my eyes by now. I'm struggling to say what I want to about this fic because as I'm trying, I keep wanting to read the whole thing again. I don't know, it's just a masterclass in balancing the external world with the internal, emphasizing the hurt and the comfort just exactly right, and managing two sick characters on top of it all. I love it more with each reread!

Bonus Note: Dana's writing is the reason I started playing Genshin so everyone thank them for unintentionally reviving my desire to write after 5 years of writer's block XD They also have a bunch of incredible artworks which will likely appear in future appreciation posts (if I can ever stop waxing poetic over their writing).

A (Flame)light in the Dark by @aeryssickfics

Warnings: literal torture, mentions of blood (specifically coughing and vomiting up blood), vomiting, mentions of wetting and messing, vomiting on oneself, being chained up, mentioned force feeding, hallucinations Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Aether, Lumine Highlights: intense whump/angst makes the eventual comfort and caretaking feel even better, very unique fic, intriguing combination of plot and hurt/comfort, depicts Kaeya/Diluc nuances really well

Upon rereading this fic for, genuinely, probably the 10th or so time, I just now picked up on a really interesting parallel between the sibling pairs in this fic. So now I love it even more because I am nothing if not absolutely weak for well written subtext and themes. I'm not usually big on whump fics outside of emeto stuff, but this one hits the spot. It flows very nicely, depicts some challenging perspectives and topics with the weight that they're owed, and I just highly recommend it to anyone who's curious and who doesn't mind the warnings!

#appreciation post #queued

[poisonioushearts]

Hi! So sorry about your request just disappearing, that really sucks ): But from the description you gave, I think I'm the one who requested-

So Yamato ends up gaining a huge crush/falling in love with a very powerful esper, and he's absolutely in love with her (or them, if the fic ends up being gender neutral). And at first, his love interest/reader isn't interested in him at all because they've heard of him and all of the awful things he's done, but as Yamato continues to approach reader and be more genuine and honest with her as time goes on, she eventually returns his feelings and they get together (bonus if reader saves him from a battle and carries him in her arms to safety)🤭

Sorry if this was too long or weird, feel free to change things as you see fit!

THANK YOU

I went with a fic/hc mix type of 'writing style', idk lmao I just went with it.

Yeah...it's been a while. Hi.

Apologies school has been overwhelming.

Reader's powers are loosely based off of Kiana from Honkai.

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of possessive behavior, the end is the beginning of Yamato being a little sh!t lmao, not proofread, probably grammatical errors

Synopsis: As stated in the request

The Beauty in Power

He first saw you when he was at his lowest. Physically that is.

Wandering after you had completed a day-mission, you were tired. Not exhausted, just tired. Which was normal.

You lifted yourself over a particularly large rock that blocked your path and you slid down it with ease.

You had entered the rocky plains.

One of the places that were greatly affected by the miracle. Thing is, this place was never inhabited by a city, village, or town. Before the miracle came the place was already prone to earthquakes and bloodthirsty creatures that didn't have a name along with miramon.

There wasn't a single flower, weed, tree, or anything of the sort. It was just...rock. Everywhere.

So it would be an understatement to say you were expecting you'd be attacked. You didn't even flinch as a hoard of miramon burst through the rubble up ahead and began to speed towards you with a deafening roar.

Your gaze adjusted and you realized that they weren't going towards you, but a figure further ahead.

They were collapsed on the ground, seemingly passed out or asleep.

You concluded that something happened that'd cause them to be knocked out-because even you wouldn't nap in this location.

It's not even comfortable.

You took off in a sprint, leaping over the person's body with one hand raised up, dark purple void circles forming. When your feet hit the ground, you slammed your hand down and spikes were shot at the miramon.

Brushing hair out of your eyes you raised your hand, cubes of red and black forming beside the recovering herd.

Then you snapped your fingers. Instantly the cubes smashed together, the miramon in-between. They twisted around each other while you raised your other hand causing invisible swords to slash the cubes.

Effectively killing the entire herd.

You see, the person you just saved was a certain red-head manipulator...and he was awake the entire time.

He fell head over heals. Metaphorically at least since he was still on the ground fatality injured.

You were powerful. The aura around you was so strong he could almost see it.

But even this aura of power didn't compete with your beauty.

The way you fought was so simple and elegant. The way you turned and crouched beside him, eyes worriedly looking into his own.

The sun was setting behind you, causing a halo to glow around your head.

You were so ethereal -and if this is how he was going to die? Fuck yeah.

He passed out (lmao).

You recognized his face, but couldn't recall his name even though you got bad vibes. Nonetheless, when he lost consciousness, you quickly picked him up in your arms (whether easily or with struggle) you brought him to the nearest infirmary in a town a few (okay a lot) miles off from where you were.

The doctors told you that a lethal poison was injected into his body, and that if you hadn't saved him, well, he'd be dead. Like, non-revivable dead.

When he woke up, he asked to see you. Hoping that you weren't just a figment of his imagination due to the poison in his body.

Boy...

He was ecstatic when he saw you. Just as wonderful as you were when he passed out.

He grinned and introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake.

You cocked an eyebrow at the name, finally realizing who he was but in politeness introduced yourself as well.

You had not heard very much good about him in your life of work. And you weren't even part of an organization! You were, in fact, a wanderer.

So of course you'd be skeptical of Yamato! Not only does he give off a dangerous and mysterious aura, but you've heard of the things he's done.

So when he looks at you and gives you a small smile, you would've never expected for the words to come out would be: "Are you a god(ess)? I'd love to worship you."

Baffled, you tried to hide the fact that you were speechless. So you eyed the doctor in the corner of the room and asked, "Did he hit his head too?"

Even with this odd behavior you endured it and visited him throughout his short recovery period.

Sure he wasn't a good person but that did not mean you didn't care about his well-being.

Something he teased you about profusely.

Even after he was released and you two parted ways, you both still ended up running into each other.

Fate or coincidence?

It was Yamato.

An unlikely friendship formed because even after being still wary of his checkered past (and probably even present) you still found comfort in his company and his flirting that gradually got cheesier and cheesier.

He was so smitten he didn't even feel obsession or anything of the sort. He was just that in love that people would've believed he was someone else entirely.

As time went on he began to love who you were and not just your power or what you looked like.

He realized this as you both were stargazing on a cliff that was covered in beautiful white flowers that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

You were both staring up at the sky, or more like, you were looking up. He was looking at you.

You smiled and pointed out the constellations you knew, and as he listened to the sound of your voice that lured him in like a siren's song it became as clear as a bright blue cloudless sky.

You were perfect.

You were stunning. Whether you met the beauty standards or not. Every part of you he loved. Any 'flaws' (acne, scars, etc.) you had he adored.

Your personality he loved even more.

The mistakes you made? What mistakes?

Your laugh, your walk, your comments, your voice, just...everything.

You may not be perfect to someone else, but to him, you were beyond that.

At that moment, he wanted to kiss you. But he didn't. Oh, how he wished he did.

When you found out one day that he defended you when people at his work were talking shit about you for whatever reason-something clicked. He truly did care for you.

And as you gazed into those flirtatious dark eyes, you knew that his love for you was so real and genuine that you started to accept the love for him that had been festering in the pit of your stomach for a while now. That feeling that you were pushing away-was now beginning to fight back.

So you concluded that'd you share your feelings...soon.

However, for him, it was beginning to be a different story.

These feelings of genuine love and affection began to slowly evolve into something more sinister.

Possessiveness, and even yandere like behavior.

You were so powerful. He needs you. He needs your power. He needs your love. He needs you to look at him like he's the only one in the world.

And he will do just that if he needs to. All the while keeping up a facade. Something he's become quite the master at.

Because...it's all worth it if it's all for you.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#dislyte #x reader #gender neutral reader #dislyte yamato #yamato #yamato x esper reader

[incandescent-creativity]

Aright, I'm a third of the way through Eragon and my thoughts are: the worldbuilding is pretty great! The writing style is fairly bland. Ah, the irresistible temptation to just name stuff that will never be mentioned again because fantasy names are cool...my beloathed, and beloved, but more so beloathed.

Angela. Like. He just really wanted this unrelated magic user who I'm pretty sure is supposed to be an insert for his sister to be in this story even though she is entirely unneeded. I mean, I love her. But she's completely superfluous to the plot like, 98% of the time she's on page. She's just there to be cool and mysterious. I love her, but the writer I am now can't help but notice how out of place she is.

Also I forgot we had all this ancient language existing in a world with names like Trevor.

Eragon does still feel like a fifteen year-old. Sometimes he's so young and other times he isn't, and it works I guess.

This book is a lot of pages but it's so, so easy to read. There's all this lore stuffed in but it's approached in an oddly juvenile way. I don't feel very serious about this serious quest we're on. Which, is how I felt the first time I read it, so props to past me for recognizing that.

I'll report back in later when I've made more progress.

Alright you're probably farther into it now that it's been a week but! A response <3

I can't really argue with you about the writing style being bland, but I do think it allows the reader to exercise their theater of the mind a lot more freely. Like that illustrated version of Eragon that came out is beautiful! But it would also provide a concrete visual for, idk, like the Ra'zac as an example.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does take away the opportunity for the reader to fill in the gaps that Paolini's "summarizing plus some description for spice" approach allows. Which I kind of like! It won't work for every reader, but I'm personally pretty prepared to be forgiving of the blandness.

Angela... is a very obvious sister-insert. I think it's admitted as much in some author's note or acknowledgements somewhere. BUT I also cannot criticize her in good faith when I also appreciate the "just put cool shit in!" approach to writing fantasy. Like is she a narrative version of the DM's favorite NPC they keep shoehorning in? Yea. Am I entertained by her regardless? Also yes.

I also want to tie your "I don't feel very serious about this serious quest we're on." comment in to Eragon feeling like a 15yo. In Doylist terms, the lack of weight that the tone of the book attributes to the stakes may come from Paolini's own age at the time of publishing, but I think there's a Watsonian interpretation, too. Eragon is! fifteen! He knows enough about his world to name the major players, but he simply doesn't have the experience to know what he's getting into.

He will tho >:)

#sleepyowlwrites #incandescently answered #eragon #not to get all english major on you at the end there #had to bring it back to silly mode lol

[raccoonfallsharder]

I read recently that you answered a similar question, so I wanted to ask you for some advice with description in general, (character actions, description of environment or scenery, what is happening at that moment, etc) I have a lot of problems with this. If I want to describe the scenery, I don't know what else to say besides the color of the sky xD I've always had that problem and when I read what I write I feel it's very basic and childish.

For example, I wrote something like this, "The weather couldn't be more perfect, the sky was clear with not a single cloud obstructing that deep bright blue, the breeze was so soft it caressed my skin and the waves were gently lapping." So I read this and I say, how boring, I feel like I'm not connecting with this, and it happens to me mostly when I want to describe a person's actions, for example, if they are smiling and then someone says something to them that bothers them, how they react? I don't know how to describe it.

So I wanted to ask you for advice because since I read your first fic I thought "this is it, this is what I want to get to with my writing" I hope you don't mind my asking and I hope you're doing great, I always read all your fics even if I don't comment <3.

sweet little sugar snap pea. ♡ first of all, you are so lovely and kind. thank you for honoring me with this ask. it's a privilege and i am really grateful you think so well of my writing. truly, it means a lot. i took some time to think about this because it was important to me to give you a real answer. i'm also gonna come back and reblog this later with some thoughts on writing peoples reactions/perspectives? for now, i'm just going to focus on writing environments, if that's okay? sorry i just write too fucken much all the time ꃋᴖꃋ ♡♡

so as always, i'll preface this with the reminder that everyones' writing style is unique and brings something precious to the table, and while we can always grow and enrich our writing, what you create is wonderfully you. what we want is for you to figure out how to tap into your own style more fully, more authentically, and more clearly. i don't think there's anything wrong with the excerpt you shared, and i can also see where you might want to make it more identifiably you.

here are some things that have worked for me personally:

firstly: i take out my "telling not showing" sentences. i might draft it with the sky was perfect, but on revision, i usually remove it because it's too heavy. i don't want to tell my reader that the sky was perfect. i want them to interpret it from how i've described it. i don't want to say the kiss was good - i want them to know what it tasted like or the way it made their nerves pop and snap and sizzle. i don't want to say he had beautiful eyes - i want you to be able to see his eyes, like warm caramel or copper pennies. you don't even need to replace a sentence like the sky is perfect - you can just remove it entirely.

secondly, when i'm stuck in a rut, like, "oh, i've described a sky like this a hundred times", or even, "i've read skies like this described a hundred times," i honestly just do some writing exercises. the result is that i'll either find a description i like, or i'll create new material to use at a later date - or i'll just get practice thinking about things in different ways.

so let's take this sky example from your excerpt: the sky was clear with not a single cloud obstructing that deep bright blue.

i might ask, "what tangible thing is this sky like, and what would i want to do in it." then i try to reframe it so i don't use a direct simile.

the sky was an ocean

the sky was so deep and clear you could dive into it and not surface for days.

i might ask, "what other senses can i use to experience this sky, beyond sight." (taste, smell, sound, touch)

the sky was empty and clean

you could breathe that sky in, and your lungs would only feel crisp and bright, and everything would smell like water lilies for the rest of the week.

i might try to describe the sky from the perspective of something else in the scene.

this seems like maybe a beach because you'd mention waves so I''m gonna say there are seagulls

the seagulls wheeled in the sky, getting lost without any clouds to serve as landmarks.

i might say, what is the emotional quality of the scene? when the character looks at it, what do they feel? what does it make them want? i think you want this scene to be calming but we're gonna try a bunch of different emotional lenses:

calming: they could have wrapped themselves up in that infinite blue, and called it home.

harsh (angry/in shock): he stared at the sky. he'd never realized how severe and sharp it was, without any clouds to soften the edges.

grief: she wanted to lose herself in the cloudless blue. drown herself in it.

as a sidenote, i'm thinking of Wyndham; or, the Intergalactic Prometheus ♡ in which the thunderstorm sky is described as bruise-colored and rotten at various points when pearl-reader is miserable/afraid, and as rippling watercolor when she's feeling more relaxed. even the same sky takes on different qualities depending on the mood of the person experiencing it.

i might just say "fuck this sky; i'm gonna write a new one." sometimes this is fun because you get to see how the environmental/atmospheric tone changes the feeling of the scene.

it was storming: the purple clouds formed a quilt overhead, stitched through with lightning. the waves responded in kind: shattering softly on the shore, reflecting ribbons of swift-moving light.

jk it was foggy: the world was so misted over that he couldn't tell where the water ended and the sky began. the world was simply endless and dove-gray.

i also might just be like "i'm just gonna write something really weird and figure this out later." you've got a really rich scene here - gently lapping waves and a clear blue sky? you could do something weirdly symmetrical with them. like, between the sea and the sky, everything was so deep and blue that you couldn't tell if the soft hush of the waves was coming from above your head or at your feet. just play around with reality tbh

honestly i try to shy away from "advice" because everyone's approach needs to be tailored to them, but i would honestly say starting with some writing exercises is a great way to just explore your own style and how you want to think about things. other things you can do is literally go outside (or wherever) and close your eyes and really try to focus on every single sensation you're experiencing, and then write about it. fill pages. what did it remind you off? when you felt the breeze and it caressed your skin gently, did it also move the little hairs on your arms? did you feel it in places you don't normally pay attention to, like on your shoulders or the back of your neck? what did it smell like? what did it taste like? if it didn't have a taste, what would it taste like, if it did? do this whenever you can, in as many experiences as you can. sunrise at a beach. sunset on a mountaintop. golden hour in the deep woods. in front of a bonfire. at a park on the swings at midnight with friends. alone in a hot tub under a 2am snowfall. if you can't physically go there, imagine it. sink yourself into the daydream so deep you don't want to leave, and then just write. and write. and write. every sentence you put down, add one more. make it weirder, stranger, zoomed out, zoomed in, from a different perspective, a different sense, a different metaphor.

okay that's all for now and i know it's a lot and i'm sorry, but i hope it helps give you a place to start? and i will try to get back to you on writing reactions and facial expressions when i can parse through all my thoughts on those!

#rfh asks #rfh writing advice #alylee-s #just writer things #just fanfiction things #writing advice #ao3 author

[altraviolet]

text comparisons because I think they're fun to do

I was watching lexi aka newlynova's latest video, this one here:

wherein she reads aloud text from two books, Powerless and Notes On An Execution, and says she's not really able to describe why the text reads badly in one and not the other, respectively. I thought it would be fun to write out the text examples and talk about what works and doesn't work. Full disclaimer: I haven't read either of these books and am going 100% on what Lexi has provided.

From what I can tell, both passages are a character describing another character- either directly to the reader, or imagining what she was like (because she's dead).

Lexi's own words on why she thinks the text of Powerless doesn't work:

...a lot of the writing is overly descriptive but not in a way that felt especially profound or well-written. It's kind of like, let's say the same thing, but again, and with words that start with the same letters and then that sentence will definitely be a banger but repeat it ad infinitem for the entire duration of the book and it's always very noticeable to me every single time. There's one passage towards the end that – it's not a spoiler – but I do think that it demonstrates pretty accurately how the writing style of the entire book was.

The text from Powerless, starting around 19:06 in the video:

She's scared. Scared of whatever it is between us. She always has been. That's why she chose to be my enemy, my rival, rather than let herself feel – which is something I'm not accustomed to myself. It's like a tangible tether between us, this consuming connection. I will her to meet my eyes, and when they do- Sparks. Electricity. Everything beautiful, everything bold, everything breathtaking – that is what I feel in her gaze. That, and terrified. Terrified of what she is doing to me. She is a vision, a nightmare, a dream. A grim reaper clad in black, come to steal my soul and my heart. I've never seen something so beautiful, so bold, so blatantly wrong for me. She is a devil. She is a deity. She is man's downfall in human form. She is my downfall.

Lexi describes this as “overt and over the top,” which is true. You can see what she means by the use of repetition. The character being described here is obviously very powerful, but the text feels tiring to read. I am not awed by this power.

Let's contrast to Notes On An Execution. Lexi describes the writing as fantastic and gives us context: the detective is thinking of one of the killer's victims. From 23:18 in the video:

As Saffy leaned against the backroom wall, Izzy's hair in her lap, she was transported into a hallucination that had stalked her for years now, a parallel universe that felt sickening, nearly fatal in its limitlessness. A highway, dusk. A flicker of long black ponytail. Izzy had died at sixteen, but she was older here: nineteen, maybe twenty. Windows open, air whipping hard, an old bluegrass song twanging from the radio. There would have been a boy, sitting in the passenger's seat – Izzy would not have loved him, not here, maybe not ever, but this wouldn't have mattered, in the hot flush of youth, his calloused fingers creeping up her thigh, the horizon bleeding behind the Adirondack peaks. In this almost-world – the substitute reality that lingered like a daydream – Izzy was never a pile of bones on the table. She was bright and golden, a blazing instant of mundane and perfect glory.

Even though Izzy isn't described as a devil, a deity, man's downfall in human form... doesn't she feel much more real? The Execution passage doesn't have short, quippy sentences, but it feels less exhausting to read.

I think there are two reasons for the variance in quality: sentence length and detail/description/specificity.

Sentence length

Sentence length variation is very, very important to the flow of a story. Consecutive sentences of similar length melt together. They drone on and on. They become monotonous. It's important to use a mix of short, medium, and long sentences together for good flow (unless you are going for some kind of effect, in which case, you need to be very deliberate about what you're doing).

Let's look at the number of words in each sentence in both excerpts. The first paragraph of Powerless has 4 sentences. The first sentence has 2 words, the next has 7, the next has 4, and the last has 23. So I'm going to represent that paragraph as 2, 7, 4, 23. Make sense? Here we go.

Powerless:

2, 7, 4, 23 10, 11 1, 1 14 3, 8, 8 14 13 4, 4 7 4

total words: 138

Execution:

36 3, 6, 13, 13 47 22, 13

total words: 153

So for a similar number of words, we have vastly different approaches to word count per sentence. Powerless's first paragraph actually has a really good distribution. Going from short -> long or long -> short sentences keeps things flowing. (Which should you use? You choose the approach based on what you're trying to highlight.) But following that, you can see how Powerless's consecutive sentences have the same number of words. 14, 13. 4, 4, 7, 4. This is what contributes to the "start-stop," "takes longer to read" feeling of that excerpt.

In contrast, Execution has very different word counts for consecutive sentences, with one exception. This helps its sentences flow much more easily through the mind. (There's a lot I could say about that first sentence using passive voice and a filter word and being 36 words long and still working nicely, but we'll stay focused!) We go from 36 words to 3. From 13 to 47. Down and up and down and up. Flow!

Detail/description/specificity

Details/descriptions and their specificity help ground the reader in your story. Making grand, sweeping statements without backing them up with details turns them into flat and meaningless statements. Details/description/specificity can be written in many ways. Word choice and sensory information are the first that come to my mind.

For word choice we can look at the verbs and adjectives that are used. For sensory information, we look for how the five senses are engaged within the text. Specificity is found in these details.

Verbs

[hopefully I didn't miss or misattribute any, I did my best]

Here are the verbs in the Powerless excerpt (I'm putting the contractions as "is"):

is, is, has been, is, feel, accustomed to, is, am, is, will, do, is, feel, is, is, come, seen, is, is, is, is

Here are the verbs in the Execution excerpt:

leaned, was transported, stalked, felt, had died, was, whipping, twanging, would have been, sitting, would not have loved, wouldn't have mattered, creeping, bleeding, lingered, was, was

I think it's pretty easy to see the difference in word choice here. Most of the Powerless verbs are from a single verb: to be. Almost all of the Execution verbs are unique. Many of the verb choices for Execution are very strong: whipping, twanging, creeping, bleeding. These all have visceral feels to them. So much more detailed and alive than is is is is is is.

Adjectives

Powerless:

[I'm 99% sure the things that look like adjectives in this excerpt, like the “black” in “clad in black,” are acting like nouns, which is why they're not in the list. Correct me if I'm wrong]

scared, scared, tangible, consuming, beautiful, bold, breathtaking, terrified, terrified, beautiful, bold, wrong

Execution:

parallel, sickening, fatal, long, black, older, old, bluegrass, passenger's, hot, calloused, substitute, bright, golden, blazing, mundane, perfect

Again we see repeated adjectives in the first excerpt and unique adjectives in the second. The adjective "beautiful" doesn't tell you as much about an object as "bright" or "calloused" does. This is what I mean by specificity: the more specific your word choices are, the more real the text feels, and the more the reader can ground themself in it.

It doesn't matter how many beautifuls you throw at a reader. They will never be as impactful as a single golden.

Sensory details

Powerless is severely lacking in sensory details. I guess we have these two:

"tangible tether" is the author telling you that something feels like it can be touched

"A grim reaper clad in black" is technically something you can see.

Execution is drenched in sensory details, mostly in its strong verbs. These are the ones that stood out to me most:

"Windows open, air whipping hard" somatic detail, you know the characters are in a car going fast, they can feel the wind

"old bluegrass song twanging from the radio" audial detail, "twanging" is a great verb here

"the hot flush of youth" somatic detail, abstract but very understandable

"his calloused fingers creeping up her thigh" somatic detail, the word choice makes this feel very creepy to me

"the horizon bleeding behind the Adirondack peaks" visual detail, the use of "bleeding" makes it quite striking

The text engages multiple senses with strong verbs, giving specific details to the reader, and allowing them to sink into the world.

So! There's my mini thesis on why the text of Execution is so much better than Powerless.

Let's be clear: there's a time and a place for sweeping, non-detailed, non-sensory-engaging, weak-verb-using prose, but... I'm not sure what that time and place are. Maybe... something really character-driven, and the character is meek as hell? In my opinion, you can make any non-descriptive batch of statements better with specificity and strong word choice.

What would I advise to improve the writing of Powerless?

-vary the sentence length. you can test your flow by either reading aloud or counting out the words, as above

-use strong verbs. avoid adverbs. you are allowed to use them, but a strong verb is always better

-insert grounded, sensory details. engage the senses! all of them!

-replace sweeping statements with details. for example, don't tell me the character is beautiful, give me examples of how she's beautiful (describe either her body or her convictions or her weapons, whatever it is that the POV character finds beautiful). don't tell me a character is a nightmare/devil/etc, give me examples of how she's powerful/evil/scary.

Homework assignment:

I've never seen something so beautiful, so bold, so blatantly wrong for me.

rewrite the above sentence. give me examples of the beautiful, the bold, and the wrong. make me feel each one. make them clash in a way that makes the reader feel as uncomfortable as the POV character feels.

--

Alright, I've been typing this up for quite a while. Let's call it here. Hope you enjoyed my write up! Feel free to send questions about this to my ask box. Hopefully I haven't made any mistakes identifying parts of speech or counting words.

Also, check out Lexi's video!

⚠️ quick side note: the portion of Lexi's video called "tragedy strikes" is Lexi explaining how a depressive state has affected her ability to read. she explains it with an incredible empathy for herself, saying that it too shall pass, and it was honestly pretty amazing to listen to because I've never heard anyone articulate depression in such a way. highly recommend! ❤️

#writing advice #sentence length variation #word choice #details #specificity #I don't know what to tag this #parts of speech #sensory details #Youtube

[budgiesunset]

Hi can you write a harriet the maze runner x fem reader please maybe with an idea of (your the only girl in group A and then a wall opens and group A and group B gets connected and then you start a relation ship with harriet) that was just a suggestion you can write about anything love its okay if not and definitely don't feel pressured to make one xx💕💕😘😊💗❤️

AN: GUESS WHOS BACK! After a few months and my birthday I have returned. Hope you like this story Anonymous and I did decide to change a few things about the plot but I hope you still enjoy and sorry for the delay

Shot || Harriet x Fem!Reader

•Warning’s• blood, guns, gunshot wound (not fatal), the flare, slight swearing, probably incorrect medical information, part where reader is in bra but it’s not descriptive, angst if you squint, not edited or proof read •Summary• After escaping the maze and the scorch you find yourself getting shot and falling for Harriet while she patches up your injury

You had just escaped WCKED and again now setting off with Jorge, Brenda, Aris and what was left of the gladers on a mission to find the right arm and to get to the safe haven.

‘We’re so close’ you thought as you got out of the car that had gotten you almost the entire way. The road was blocked by a bunch of abandoned cars several of them had been trashed

‘probably from when this all started and people were looking for supplies or ways to get out’. The thought came to you as you looked through a cracked window of an old truck.

First you heard it. It was loud and clearly a gunshot then suddenly felt a hot pinch in your arm. You felt yourself being pulled to the ground in your daze you turned around seeing Frypan looking at you concerned.

“Keep pressure on your arm” he said as he moved your un-injured arm so the you could replace his hand on your wound.

Everything happened so fast and the next thing you know your being pulled up from the ground by someone you definitely didn’t know.

She was wearing a mask and had a rifle. But she had dark brown eyes. Brown almost black hair that she had styled in twist and she had tanned skin even though you couldn’t see her face you felt like you could trust her.

After a very confusing interaction between Aris a girl named Sonya and the girl who pulled you off the ground who you learnt to be called Harriet. They agreed to take you to the Right arm.

Along the way you found yourself walking next Harriet. “How’s your arm” She questions.

“It’s okay I guess for being shot.. Hurts like hell though” you say as you lift your hand off of the injury to look at it but quickly placing it back and applying more pressure as blood starts to leak out again.

“When we arrive we can get it looked at and bandaged up.” She said looking at you then quickly looking straight again.

“Yeah that sounds good” you say. The rest of the trip was silent.

[Time Skip]

You were sitting in the med tent when Harriet entered.

“Docs busy with your friend but luckily for you I know how to fix up a gun injury.. Do you need help to remove your shirt?” she says as she lets out a breathy laugh. You just nod as she carefully removes your shirt leaving you in your bra. She then sits down on a stool using a cloth to clean around the wound.

“This is going to hurt” she says while holding a pair of tweezers so they were just hovering over the hole using her other hand to stretch out the skin. Then carefully she pulls out the bullet.

“Fuck” you mumble squeezing your eyes closed. Harriet them starts to bandage the wound on your upper arm.

“Wait here I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” She says before exiting the tent. She returns a few minutes later with a cream colored long sleeve shirt. “Here” she says holding it out to you.

“would you mind helping me?” You say looking up at her from this angle you could see just how beautiful she is, how her skin glows as she nods and how her hair falls in her face as she leans over you to help you pull the shirt on.

Her touch is warm and as she stands up you find yourself missing her warmth you both stare into each others eyes until the silence is broken.

“Dinners ready” you look over to the door of the tent to see Aris standing there looking at you both confused.

Harriet helps you stand up and guide you to a small log next to a campfire she tells you to sit before walking off and returning a few minutes later with two bowls of hot soup.

She hands you one and then sit’s down next to you and you both talk for hours. Then suddenly you hear a loud buzzing then you see a beam of light and feel a gush of wind.

Harriet acts fast grabbing her rifle then your hand and pulling you behind her as she yells out orders left and right.

You’re suddenly behind a car and all you can hear is gunshots, explosions and yelling. You cover your ears curling your knees up to your chest hiding your face in them.

Not even a minute later you feel yourself get violently yanked from the ground and then you feel it. A gun placed at your temple.

“Put your weapon down or else she dies!” The soldier yells. You start shaking your head left and right tears welling in your eyes as the barrel of the gun get pushed even closer to your temple forcing you to move your head on a diagonal so that your left ear is almost at your shoulder.

Harriet looks into your eyes before throwing her gun to the floor not even two seconds later she is being grabbed and pulled to a line up you not too far behind.

Your head gets pushed forwards and then the soldier calls out “A45” and then moves onto the next one.

You flinch when you feel something grab your hand but quickly relax when you look over and see Harriet holding onto your hand.

“It’s going to be okay.. I won’t let them hurt you” she whispers so that only you and her could hear.

[Time Skip]

After everything happened and the WCKED soldiers left taking almost half of what was left of the right arm you curled up next Harriet as she rested up against a large rock.

Your head rested on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around your waist in a protective manner as if she was scared that if she let go you would end up in the hands of WCKED just like Sonya and Aris. So that night you fell asleep in the arms of Harriet where you felt safe.

The End

#x reader #x reader story #maze runner x reader #maze runner #Harriet #Newt #Gally #Thomas #Alby #Sonya #Chuck #Aris #lgbtq #Y/N #maze runner x YN #Harriet x Reader #Harriet x YN

[poppletonink]

Six Of Crows Review

★★★★★ - 5 stars

"No Mourners, No Funerals"

Ketterdam is a bustling city: a city of crime, of gangsters, of gamblers. It's the city that birthed Kaz Brekker - a master of greed, a renowned criminal masterland, a seventeen year old boy. When Kaz is offered a job that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams he knows he can't pull it off alone, so he finds five people each with their own reasons for joining him to help him with the greatest heist ever known. Yet, with the fate of the world in the hand's of the six of them, can they pull it off? Or will they kill each other first?

This book was so amazing, that I don't even know where to start. First, it needs to be said that I am obsessed with Leigh Bardugo's writing style, especially her descriptions of places. The similes were beautiful throughout the entire novel (it's safe to say that any English teacher would be in love with this book for that very reason). Alongside that it's a really quotable book - so many lines were perfectly tailored to their speaker, representing their personality or characterisation flawlessly.

Not only is the writing of Six Of Crows astoundingly gorgeous, but it is also an amazingly diverse novel, especially for the fantasy genre. I love how characters are part of the LGBTQ community, yet the book doesn't make a big deal out of it because it's just a part of the character, not a major plot point. Not only does it have LGBT representation, but the book as a whole is an interesting discussion of ableism. For example, it's rare to see a disabled character be a morally ambiguous character at the same time, yet in Six Of Crows Kaz Brekker is the king of being morally grey, and yet he is a cane-user.

Something I really loved about Six Of Crows was how Bardugo manages to create an emotional attachment to the characters, whilst also retaining a good flow of the plot. On that note, the plot was great, it really keeps you on edge with twists and turns constantly (especially in the Ice Court Heist segment). Generally speaking, people say that The Ice Court Plot is difficult to understand, but I think you need to go into it with an open mind and make sure that you are prepared for tracking plot twists (and as long as you've managed to keep up with the plot twists throughout the rest of the book, you should be fine).

In summary Six Of Crows is a great book, full of funny lines, intricate characters that undergo carefully woven journeys of development and great representation. In my personal opinion, Six Of Crows is the best fantasy book I've read since Veronica Roth's Divergent (which I read in 2018). It's definitely one that I'd recommend to anyone who loves or wants to get into the fantasy genre, so if that describes you, run to your nearest bookshop or library and grab a copy.

#six of crows #books #book review #book #book blog #booklr #readblr #book reccs #book recommendations #bookaddict #kazzle dazzle #kaz brekker #kaz x inej #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #books books books #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #wylan x jesper #nina x matthias #disability #disabled mc #baz krekker #diversity #lgbtq #lgbtq representation #no mourners no funerals

[theonethatyaks93]

Character/Plot Notes for Upcoming Dark Pinky x Future Brain Fanfiction (+ a Preview!) (Also, Happy Dark Pinky Thursday!)

Hello everyone!! This is kind of new territory for me, but I'm excited to announce that my very first Dark Pinky x Future Brain fanfiction is currently in the works! And it's not just one fanfiction; it's an entire series that establishes my own universe. I've had this idea for a while, but after looking at the askdarkpinky blog and reading an unhealthy number of Dark Pinky fanfiction, I finally decided to put my concept to writing. I consider this to be a passion project of mine. It has changed quite a bit over the past few months, however, the core idea is still present: establish a Dark Pinky and Future Brain world and write an angsty, dark, and melancholy continuous story. The series will be titled Dark Future, and each separate fanfic will either be a one-shot or a multi-chapter. Some of these fics might even take on a different style such as first-person perspective or alternate/side characters getting the spotlight. I've only posted one fanfiction on AO3 before which is titled When He Loved Me (go check it out, but it's not the best as it was my first work). This will be better executed since I've been planning for longer. I usually do this kind of character analysis/plot analysis in privacy, so I can remember personalities and story beats while I work. Since this is a larger project and that it involves a few characters whom I've never worked with before, I wanted to post this publicly to gain feedback from you guys and to show everyone my ideas. Just a quick note; the preview will not reveal any major spoilers I have planned or character moments aside from setting up the plot. It's also very long and you don't have to read it. Also, this will be rated T for dark themes, light violence/implied violence, and some gore, albeit it's very brief and not graphic. Alright, let's begin!

Plot-Here's a basic, still in development, plot description for the entire series:

After a massive falling out, Future Brain abandons his former husband, Dark Pinky, and runs away to live a life of seclusion alongside his former adversary turned-friend, Julia. Dark Pinky spends years searching for his estranged partner, eventually seeking the help of the beautiful Billie to aid in his pursuit. Unfortunately, after Future Brain comes to a horrifying realization that his husband may cause the world to dissolve into disarray and ruin, he sets off to try and rekindle his relationship with Pinky. Meanwhile, Dark Pinky continues to attempt to find Brain in secret, while continuing to put up a threatening image in the public eye. However, an old foe is plotting to seek revenge on his mortal enemies once and for all. Dark Pinky and Future Brain must attempt to rebuild their rapport in order to gain back control of the world and to realize that certain past mistakes need to be fixed.

There are a lot more elements to this premise than what I've put here, including complex characters, side plots, and fanfictions entirely dedicated to the villains. This universe has a kind of grim origin story that I came up with back in late 2021. Here's a bit from the currently in progress first draft of the very start to this universe:

"The plan has been very dangerous, yet it succeeded with flying colors. The world was theirs in an instant. With one swift attack, the military was abolished, and the world leaders surrendered each country they had dominance over. Bloody corpses lined the streets in the days following, leaving the people of the planet in anguish. It was almost surreal how everything had panned out in the end. And at first, he was satisfied and had convinced himself that he was making Earth a better place for all. However, after the construction of their palace was completed and after the hundreds of private and public executions commanded by him were carried out, the ever-present feeling of dread began to take him day after day. Future Brain had convinced himself countless times that he was happy; though now, it was an almost impossible feat. These feelings of sorrow and shame wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard he tried."

A part that wasn't mentioned here that I want to say is that Dark Pinky and Future Brain didn't start off like this. The reason why they look so maniacal and off-putting is that it's a result of Brain's actions to world domination (to be discussed in an origin story). His plans become increasingly more dangerous as time passes, with him and Pinky receiving more serious injuries. Eventually, this constant barrage of pain, plus an electrical shock, causes Pinky's mind to deteriorate until he becomes Dark Pinky. He's now hyper-focused on world domination and Brain decides that taking a more violent path is the key to their success. Going by Future Brain, he and Dark Pinky launch a brutal attack on the world, causing it to fall into their grasp. But while Dark Pinky loves his new life as a ruler, Future Brain shows quite a bit of regret for his previous actions. This point of Brain hating the world he and Pinky have made is a massive plot point and it's what causes most of the tension in the series. There will be a lot of conflict between Dark Pinky and Future Brain, as they bicker over their different viewpoints. Brain is going to be very hard on himself here as he blames his actions for Pinky being changed. This is one of the reasons why he leaves Dark Pinky behind to live a life of seclusion. There will be a few references to episodes from the spin-off series since this universe takes place after the events of the 1995 show. Since this is an alternate universe, there will be very few or no references to the Animaniacs reboot considering this takes place during that time period.

Characters- There are quite a few recognizable faces here from other Dark Pinky x Future Brain universes, but there are also some new characters that are going to be incorporated. The list below only features the main characters or the ones that get more focus; some others will be getting mentioned or will have a brief cameo. The characters with significance include Dark Pinky, Future Brain, Snowball, Julia, Billie, Egwind and Romy. Their designs are either inspired by the designs from the askdarkpinky blog or are my own original creations. Some of their personalities have been altered such as an unusual character being made a major antagonist or Julia being Brain's closest confidant.

Locations- These are just a few ideas I had for possible major locations of the series:

Dark Pinky and Future Brain's Castle- The primary destination of the entire work, this palace is inspired by the look from the askdarkpinky blog, though it's a little larger. It's located in Washington D.C on the ruins of the White House. It's massive and features lots of rooms, a throne room, spaces for the soldiers, dungeons, and even a library/study room.

Acme Labs- Shuttered after Dark Pinky and Future Brain took over, the lab is abandoned and desolate. Access is restricted for anyone aside from officials. This also is the hideout for Future Brain after his escape from Dark Pinky since his personal living space is located in the basement. Julia resides here also. Brain uses Julia's technology to spy on Dark Pinky's location to avoid getting caught.

Snowball's Fortress- Hidden in the woods, Snowball has created a home for himself after Acme Labs' closure. Here, he spies on Dark Pinky and Future Brain, creating devious schemes to take the world from them. It's not very large, but it has a space where Snowball can create his inventions and an advanced system of computers for watching over Dark Pinky and Future Brain.

Preview- This is a little idea of what is going to happen in this series. This comes from the first fanfiction in the series "Darkness" and it's the ending from that fanfic. Here's a little snippet of the first draft (It's not that little, though. 2000+ words?! This isn't even the entire fic and it's almost longer than my previous work! Yeesh!):

Despite the thunderous chaos that occurred during the day, the castle was quite peaceful at night. Most of the soldiers, aside from the ones on a night shift, had dissipated into the inky blackness of midnight to rest away. The servants that didn’t tend to their mouse overlords’ evening needs slept quietly in their personal quarters without a second thought. And even the ones still awake tried their best to stay as quiet as possible, since Dark Pinky’s temper tended to flare immensely in later hours and that would mean Future Brain would get angry, too. Being on the receiving end of their rage was nothing to cough at; your life was basically in jeopardy if you were to wrong them. Most servants, however, drifted off around 11:30, despite being informed not to do so. All seemed quiet and serene.

The last of the butlers, who carried delicacies on the finest plates, had settled in at around 12:30, when quite suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Servants, maids, and the night guards nearly leaped from their posts precisely at the time the loud noises occurred and rushed to aid in whatever was going on. Many people were in their nightwear, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

The entourage of associates arrived at Dark Pinky and Future Brain’s room in only a matter of seconds. A soldier rapped on the door in a panic, hoping that all was well. “Your Highnesses is everything alright?” he questioned once, then again, then again. No response. Panic began to settle in with the group; had their rulers been taken? Luckily, the door was unlocked, which was unusual. Though they were told to avoid entering the room without knocking, at this point, there was no other choice.

The servants, guards, and maids filed into the room via the human-sized door. They were met with a confusing albeit disturbing sight. Dark Pinky was kneeling on the floor in only his plush purple robe, back facing away from everyone. Only a single lamp lit the room, hazy shadows lingering everywhere. Pieces of shattered glass surrounded the mouse, though it seemed like he didn’t care or notice. His paws seemed to be against his chest as if he were holding something precious. The only sound in the room was heavy breathing. Very heavy breathing.

“Uhm, are you okay, sir?” one of the servants spoke up, doing his best as to not upset his leader.

A chuckle was the response to that question, followed by a light gasp. “He’s gone.” Dark Pinky murmured discreetly. “He’s gone.”

The night guards eyed each other, the perplexity rising. “Who’s gone?” a soldier in the back of the group asked.

“He’s gone.” A breathy sob emerged from the mouse as he un-cupped a paw and pointed it towards his bed. Surely enough, no one was there. “Brain’s not here.”

Even more glances occurred between the people in the room. Usually when this happened, it wasn’t anything to get distraught about. What was so different now? One of the servants stepped forward in a tentative attempt to get more information.

“Your Excellence, I’m certain that if we just sent out the guards, we’d find you husband somewhere in the castle…”

“HE’S NOT HERE!!!” Pinky roared, abruptly standing up and turning to face the cluster. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were matted and damp from what looked like tears. He kept his paws close to his middle despite all the thrashing.

“Sir, are you convinced that Brain has vanished completely? He might just be in the kitchen or in his study room or-”

“I can assure you that he’s left the castle! I know! I know everything! I read his mind!” That was a lie. Brain had already been gone by the time he’d awoken to get a drink.

“But are you sure…”

“BRAIN’S GONE YOU IDIOT!!! I’M POSITIVE, STOP DOUBTING ME!! NARF!!!” Dark Pinky yelled, though it came off as more of a moan as his voice cracked.

The group of servants and soldiers moved closer together at their ruler’s sudden outburst. Some cowered in fear. One guard pushed himself out of the huddle, quivering in his purple uniform. “If you are sure that Brain has departed the perimeter, what can we do to assist you in his return?”

Pinky froze for a moment before letting out a snarl. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the ground below his feet. “Find him.” His mouth twitched. “Search everything and everywhere. Leave nothing untouched. Go to every corner of this miserable planet if you must. If he thinks that he can escape me, I think he’s more stupid than what he lets on.”

The soldiers nodded and departed the room to instruct their colleagues about the situation. The rumble of their boots quavered through the entire palace, yet Pinky still didn’t look up. Only the servants and maids remained standing in the doorway.

“As for the rest of you,” Pinky finally raised his head from facing the floor, staring at the miserable helps. He briefly read their puny little terrified minds full of concern. He liked the fear he instilled in them; it was comforting. “You are to scour the castle and look for any hints at where Brain might’ve gone. Check the security cameras, look at locks and see if they’ve been picked. Do anything you can to get a better idea of where he is. Fail me, and the dungeon will be your new home. Understand?”

The servants nodded, still shivering ever so slightly. They bolted out of the room at a rapid pace, setting off to track down the security footage and investigate the locks. Their jobs depended on finding these answers.

He didn’t move until the door slammed shut. He didn’t say a word. He eventually turned away to face the balcony, the dark blue atmosphere painting everything in unsettling colors. Usually, midnight was Pinky’s favorite time of the day, since the world seemed to stand still, and all the hustle simply faded into nothingness. Now, it just seemed bleak, unrelenting, even sinister. It did fit the persona he’d made for himself over the years, but something seemed twisted. For the first time in a while, Dark Pinky felt…uncertain about what was to come. Brain was gone. The mouse he loved most was gone. He let the moment sink in, bearing its claws to slash at his insides, turning his mind to mush.

The next few moments were made of pure silence. Pinky’s heart hammered against his chest, each beat causing him to feel weaker and weaker. The faint hum of servants’ thoughts trickled away until waning completely. Not even the sound of a familiar voice approaching was enough to pull him from his mute state.

“Dinky? Dinky, where are you?”

Billie.

“Julia’s run away. I don’t know where she went. Do ya know anything about where she went? I’m scared for her! Dinky? Please answer me!”

She sounded so desperate, so confused, so upset. Her thoughts were very scattered and shrill. Pinky winced as they entered his mind. It was like nails on a chalkboard. He tried to keep his composure, yet it was so difficult. He turned to face the door as he drew shuttering breaths. He loathed Billie quite a bit, and even her headspace was insufferable. Pinky ignored her calls. He didn’t care that Julia was also missing.

He brought his attention back to the balcony, gazing out into the vast void of black sky. He felt another cry working its way up. He held it in as best he could. Dark Pinky was so tired, yet so angry. Why had Brain left? What did he do? Was having the world not enough?

Hot tears escaped his eyes very freely. He brought his attention to his paws, still clasping onto something. Pinky uncurled his fingers, revealing the object: a tiny gold ring that sparkled with light pink diamonds. It began glowing in the light from the lamp.

Brain’s wedding ring.

The symbol of their love, their devotion.

He’d left it.

That’s how Pinky knew he was gone. Forever.

The room around him grew dizzy. Pinky felt his knees give out instantly, collapsing to the floor with a loud thud. His head hit the ground first, sending an astronomical amount of pain rattling towards his skull. His arms reached in front of him, the ring slipping away and clinking on the tile. The blue-eyed mouse felt a sharp twinge of discomfort coming from his arms and legs. He briefly sat up peered down at his lower limbs, grunting when he saw blood trailing through his ivory fur and bleeding into the fabric of his robe.

He'd fallen on the shards from when he’d thrown the water glass on his nightstand after seeing the wedding ring.

It had just sat there, on the dresser. No letter, no warning, nothing.

The abnormal amount of blood was alarming, but what made Dark Pinky really panic was the ring slipping away. He got up on his knees, reached out, and grabbed it quickly, pressing it against his bloodied red chest and robe as if it were his most valuable thing. Seeing all the jewels sparkle pink, the color of Brain’s eyes, proved too much. Especially when he stared at his own ring, the matching light blue diamonds complementing perfectly with the pink.

The tears came back with a vengeance. The sobs Pinky had tried to suppress spiraled out of control. His breaths came out labored and shaky. The pain from the gashes on his arms and legs burned even hotter. His head throbbed. Pinky’s emotional state was in ruin.

“B-Brain.” He began incoherently stuttering, forcing out the word that meant the most to him, though he’d never say it. “B-Brain. Oh Brain! Brain! P-Please! Brain!” Another sob, this one even stronger. The excess moisture in his eyes came rushing out in abundance. It wouldn’t stop.

The sobs turned into wails lightning fast. Dark Pinky was in so much pain, physically and emotionally. It was weird that he’d be this distraught, and yet, he didn’t pay any mind to it. Brain had left him. He deserved to be upset. Still, he hoped that no one would hear him.

“P-Poit.” The verbal tics began slipping out. In between each cry, his nonsense words would find their way to his vocabulary again. They kept coming and coming. Pinky did all he could to push those inane phrases away, but he was already having a tic fit. “N-Narf! Poit! Zort! Troz!” His body shuddered with the outbursts, the cuts still running red. Each tic made his chest ache to unbearable degrees. The tears poured out in massive amounts.

“P-Poit, Poit, Poit!” Pinky wheezed, his voice sore from sobbing. He clasped the ring even tighter in his left paw, reaching his right paw to his head. He felt so miserable. He felt like that vulnerable and pitiful creature he used to be, the one who messed everything up. The one who interjected sentences with random nonsense. The one who got unhappy at the stupidest of things.

The one that Brain loved.

Pinky began having trouble catching his breath, gasping for air. He needed to prevent himself from acting like his old self; he was improved now. Stronger, tougher, ruthless.

Brain hated the new you.

 He rubbed his head, feeling his fingers against his fur. “Stop-poit! Just stop-narf! You’re-zort-better than-poit! This!” Each verbal tic interfered with his words. It became harder to speak each second. Even as he rubbed his forehead, he still could feel streams of tears trailing from his eyes. These horrible thoughts were maddening.

Brain hated you. He was using you. You finally do what he’s always wanted, yet he abandons you.

The weight of everything proved too much for the mouse. Pinky felt his knees give out once again, this time, his back being the first thing to hit the floor. He felt the shards of glass pierce and prod at his skin, but he didn’t bother acknowledging. It was futile to use this as an attempt to calm down. He didn’t call for a servant to clean up the mess. He might later, but not currently. Pinky just let the blood run out, mimicking the way his emotions were spilling. He knew his robe was ruined. He had an inkling that many of these gashes would scar. And yet, he didn’t demand for anyone nor ask anyone for help. It was just him. Brain certainly wasn’t there. Why should he ask for someone when his whole world had fled into the night?

Dark Pinky hugged his legs tightly, feeling his navy-blue colored nails dig into the skin on his shins. The cuts stung, but the blood from them was cold. He let some of it run across his fingers. It felt good. In his left paw was the ring, also pressing against him. His tail dropped at his backside and his chipped ears drooped as he sank into the ball he’d formed with his body. Laying on the floor was uncomfortable, especially with the glass pieces, but it was the only thing he felt like he could do.

He felt another round of sobs and tics coming, only this time, he held them back. Pinky bit his lip with his sharp fangs, though it was a tad painful. That wasn’t a concern. His eyelids grew heavy, to the point where he couldn’t keep them open anymore. He began rasping quietly as he felt himself relax, his breath now even. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the eerie night sky, mixed with the light from the table lamp. One solemn excess tear trailed down his face, landing on his chest before drying up. Dark Pinky growled once, though it burned as it escaped his throat.

“I’ll find you some day, Brain. You can’t hide from me for long. Narf,” he rasped before feeling the world fade around him, as he sank into the darkness of his subconscious. Brain wouldn’t get away from him so easily.

*end of preview*

Art gallery- Here's some fanart that inspired certain scenes and moments in my fanfiction. I like to do this when writing to get ideas or to construct a tone or mood. All work featured here is from @wimsiecal who I owe a lot of thanks to for establishing the best Dark Pinky universe of all time!! Seriously, if you're reading this, I apologize for you having to sit through my crappy first draft work to see your mention:

This art inspired the vibe I want to give their relationship plus a scene later on.

This work inspired Dark Pinky's look without the suit.

This inspired Dark Pinky's robe design (which you can see in the preview above)

Would you believe me if I told you that this inspired an entire scene in my fanfiction?

So, yeah, that's all I have. This doesn't give off major spoilers for any surprises I have in store, but I hope it gives you guys a general idea of my writing skills. I was debating on making this since I don't know if people will be interested in this, but it's my first time writing for Dark Pinky and Future Brain, so I decided I wanted some feedback from all of you. If you liked it, that's great! If you didn't, that's fine, too. I'm not a great writer by any means, so I'd like some constructive criticism on what to improve on. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great day! Happy Dark Pinky Thursday!!

#pinky and the brain #patb #brinky #dark pinky #dark pinky thursday #fanfiction preview #yes this is chaos but I don't care

[the-vibes-are-off]

The Stormlight Archive Volume 1: The Way of Kings’ Review: Chapters 24-27

link to contents page: https://at.tumblr.com/the-vibes-are-off/hey-hey/1bqju41z4c8r

Did I say I was going to post weekly every Sunday? Yes I did. Have I lived up to that commitment? I have not. IN MY DEFENSE, uni has started up properly this week, I’ve been reading like 4 books at once this past week and its been vvvvvvvv hard. In my limited spare time I crocheted a bookmark for TWOK!! I used the same yarn as I did for my partner’s hat so its like there is a piece of him with me every time I read with is super comforting. All in all, I am just super exhausted this week so I am sorry for the late addition to the series.

Spoiler Free Zone:

The first couple chapters in this part were, honestly in my opinion, kinda uneventful. Not boring per say just kinda average.

24 just kinda felt like rehashing the same war stuff (again this could be that I’m more lalala silly little fairy in a mushroom house vibe than war n strategy fantasy vibe) and 25 was just a flashback (which structurally I love) that was like grrrr mean nobility

26 and 27 though were like descriptively and wholesomely more my vibe and I read SUPER fast 

***SPOILER BUFFER IDK IF THE SPACING IS WORKING BC ACCORDING TO MY PARTNER ITS NOT SO LIKE I AM SORRY IF THIS ENTIRE TIME LIKE SPOILERS HAVE BEEN RIGHT THERE ANYWAY LETS CONTINUE***

Spoiler Zone:

I quite literally tabbed two things in the first two chapters of this section, like I said like its not that it was bad it just like wasn’t great (for me anyway).

Like I get the for plot it is necessary for Dalinar to be turned down by Roion but the like collective narrative of ‘war is a game that is meant to be won’ and ‘soldiers are just pieces that can be sacrificed to win’ is something I personally dislike - again which is why I like Dalinar but like I need the other like lords or whatever to gain some originality 

I will say, the flashback did step it up - the description of the stalactites was very pleasing to me - but, while I am all for criticising narcissist in power positions, I feel like it could’ve been better in the way it was presented in the text. I’m not sure. Again its not that any of these plot points are bad particularly, I just think they could’ve been better executed. 

Definitely picked up after, the description of candles and fires at the start of 26 was so beautiful! As well as Dalinar fighting and the grace within it towards the end of the chapter was so cool - if there’s one thing I can commend Brando for its his style of describing things. 

Then, in chapter 27, everything I had tabbed was cute xD. Syl helping Kaladin at the apothecary? Absolute icon. I love her. And I CANNOT get over the bridge four friendships being built. All the singing and shit is so cute and just warms my heart, needed that cuteness this week.

P.S: I am so sorry this came late and if it sounds low energy at all. Having a tough week and encountered so many interruptions while trying to write this to the point it took me two days. Writing has definitely helped me relax a bit. I hope it can continue to do so.

Tab Count:

Cute <3 - 3

Fights - 1

Sad ;-; - 0

Death - 0

Cool - 2

Wtf wow - 0

Wtf Why - 0

Slay Quotes - 0

Love this! - 1

Hate this >:( - 1

Lore - 0

Tab Total:

Cute <3 - 12

Fights - 9

Sad ;-; - 5

Death - 4

Cool - 8

Wtf wow - 3

Wtf Why - 3

Slay Quotes - 14

Love this! - 14

Hate this >:( - 5

Lore - 6

#brandon sanderson #The Way of Kings #Way of Kings #The Stormlight Archive #stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #kaladin #Sylphrena #syl #dalinar #dalinar kholin #book review #literature review #fantasy #High Fantasy

[mejomonster]

So ive been trying to note writing styles as i read lately, to learn maybe how to improve the way i write to more of the result id like to have and also to notice what i like or dislike. What ive liked so far:

im not the only writer in the world who changes fucking tense so my inner-critique should shut the fuck up please, many authors exposition dump or do a quick tell sentence for unimportant quick transitions and frankly both these techniques work well and serve functions (examples i read recently: priest gives a lot of exposition actually, meanwhile brom gives less and may write more like me and both approaches i Enjoy, In The Dark's author does quick Tell sentences to move the investiagtion since evidence collecting and traveling To case ijterest points isnt ncessarily the focus - the scenes AT those locations and scenes figuring Out those clues are more key...and i realize many mystery plot novels and shows do this to move the pace better and focus on the most important scenes), i realized some authors do rely heavily primarily on just Dialogue-Action information and little else (which in my head for my own writing i guess i had thought i could only do for plot outlines not actual full scene writing) and some do give exposition or inner world reflection but only in key instances (Observations by janon does this minimal inner reflection then used for impact more in certain moments and does it Well, versus Murakami who i love who... extensively uses inner world perception and thoughts and that definitely reflects in how often i similarly fall into doing it).

I realized some authors do creative weird shit where grammar breaks, quotes and references to other stories are used, where the entire scene becomes purposefully cojfusing and prose practically turns into poetry in how Feeling suddenly takes over as the goal of the writing instead of clarity. Again Observations does this (with some beautiful moments and quotes), and Murakami loves doing this shit sometimes (and i love doing this too but often reign myself in out of worry im doing Too Much rule breaking). Theres authors like Suzanne Collins that write in present tense (i love present tense), theres ursula le guin who utilizes em dashes and i probably got my sentence style from her long ago, i like stephen kings descriptions a lot (and to a degree i hope i try for similar things).

Ive realized that while i miss how concisely i wrote a decade ago, compared to my long winding chapters now, and i admire writers who stick to primarily dialogue-action cause wow i wish i could it looks easier... i also would like to try putting more exposition in since some of my favorite writers do it more than me. And i realize i like my particular way of describing things in stories. Sure, just action setting descriptions would be easier. But like... im still not sure where i picked up the way i describe stuff. But i like how i do. (My guess is maybe Murakami or stephen king but i am not quite sure to be honest).

Like.

These bits are rough and im probably going to do sigmificant changes one day in editing. But i quite liked these bits of my writing ive done recently:

Khan's eyes are like two golden suns, burning through the hesitant guard, as if to consume. / Maybe Khan had always known. As he sat there, crumbling into the wooden floor, his face sinking lower and lower as it grew damp. / "I'm sorry," Misery had said, in the end. Over and over / Danny's in the water, fumbling deeper and deeper and resolutely ignoring the coldness seeping in, as the boys at the shore laugh and shout words he's no longer hearing. / The blossoms were frosting now, as she'd expected. Little specks of white glazed across them. Like the white scales of the god Tajin, the white knuckles of the man beside her as he kept himself from shattering the stone ledge against his palms.

#rant #mejo writing

[nariism]

I am not okay after that S** fic HOLY SHIT I literally curled up into a ball while reading it and trying not to bawl

"He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does. He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point. "You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now."

(massive extract yes) THIS PART WAS SO AOBAOUDBOASBDASLODNLSAKDN THAT'S SO ADORABLE?? I'M SCREAMING "YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL" HITS DIFFERENT AFTER THAT PARAGRAPH OF HIM DESCRIBING READER

HIM MISSING HIS DATE FOR THEM TOO OH MY FUCKING GOD

It's even cuter since reader thought they look scary bc everyone left ╥﹏╥

"Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?" You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays. He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles."

THE WHOLE BIRTHDAY SCENE AND HIM NOTICING LONGER HAIR MADE ME WANNA SOB (in a good way) I have a massive soft spot for birthday scenes (especially when it's for characters without one or if they've never celebrated properly)

"There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here."

I also wanted to sob here (not very happily this time) S** YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE LEFT SOMETHING- The eggs and rice tho :(( the fact that he cared was obvious (THE BIRTHDAY CAKE TOO AOINAIOEDN) but it would've been so painful to be in reader's position + the guilt would've killed me if I were him

""Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod. He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you. Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light."

THE SPARKLER SCENE WAS MY FAVOURITE !! Reader wanting them despite not being able to read the poster was adorable 😭 The repetition of "as if 7 years of distance never existed between you" really accentuates their bond and I absolutely love it

My heart is still aching after reading (ಥ﹏ಥ) (not a complaint tho). Something about the afterlife hurts (like reader never being able to know what they look like with their own eyes, or not being able to understand who they were when they were alive)

This is definitely my favourite S** fic (and favourite out of all your fics) it's adorable and beauteous, yet so gut wrenching at the same time, 11/10, well done Soph !! <3

soutaaaaaa 😭😭😭 whenever i see you in my inbox going absolutely ham about one of my fics i prepare the tissues and get curled up into my blanket in bed bc i just know i'm going to be sobbing happy tears by the end. you're such a sweetheart and your kind words are genuinely one of the reasons i haven't felt burnt out writing in the last while 🥹🥹💗💗💗💗

i'm such a sucker for afterlife/haunting fics and i kinda wanted to try this style of writing in tiny drabbles and it just fit. i'm ALSO a sucker for the bday trope heudhwudhdh😭💗💗 its just so adorable and i feel like i always want my loved ones to feel special on their birthday and it just makes me so happy imagining sae to be the same way even though he's a hardass 🫶🫶

UGHGGHHHGHG IM SCREENSHOTTING THIS ALL AND SAVING IT FOREVER YOU'RE SO SWEET AND YOU TAKE SO MUCH OF YOUR OWN TIME TO REALLY GO THROUGH THE FINER DETAILS AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SO APPRECIATED AND SEEN AND YUHFHFUFHRIBFEKFBICNF. COME HERE SOUTA IM GONNA. IM GONNA GIVE YOU ALL THE BAKED GOODS. ALL THE CANDY. IM GONNA HUG YOU.

🫶🫶🫶🫶

#✧.* chatting 💌 #{souta!} #aka the best #aka the only moot ever #aka the sweetest person on earth

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Intro: Favorite Mongolian Authors & more

#slavic roots western mind

I've always had an interest in Mongolia, primarily because there's literally so little international news coverage, at least in my neck of the woods so to speak.

Despite my Mongolian language learning attempts being paused for the time being, I nonetheless continue to fall in love with Mongolian literature with every read, especially with poetry, which is why I've wanted to share my favourite authors.

Here's my quick list of Mongolian authors who's works I've read so far (and a few that are on my to-read radar).

1. Galsan Tschinag

My absolutely favorite poet, born in Mongolia in 1944, famous for his poetry, which interestingly enough was originally written in German, and then translated to English.

His works primarily feature the themes of a nomadic lifestyle, nature, heritage and cultural identity, so if any of these topics interest you, definitely check out his works!

2. Chadraabalyn Lodoidamba

I've only managed to read one of his novels "Тунгалаг тамир" (The Crystal Clear Tamir River), but it's definitely a worthwhile read. Set in the 20th Century, it provides an interesting insight into Mongolian history leading up to the uprising of Mongolia in 1932, with a strong focus on the struggle of the poor against the rich

There's no official English translation (there are German and Russion versions somewhere, but I didn't find them yet), but google translate helped me create a readable version from the original Mongolian.

There's also a movie split into several episodes avaliable on yt but with iffy subtitles, so if you liked the book, you can sort of follow along with the movie.

It's rare for me to hear spoken Mongolian, so watching the movie episodes has been a fascinating experience.

3. Choinom Ryenchi

Once again, I've only read one of this authors works "Buriad", written in 1973 and published in Sümtei Budaryn Chuluu [A Stone from the Steppe with a Monastery] in 1990, but it was enough to interest me.

Buriad refers to an ethnic group in Mongolia, with the poem describing their lifestyle and history. I don't know if what I've read is the entire work, as I found it in a research paper, feauturing said poem with the translation, but it was still quite beautiful.

The style is very lyrical, almost like a song or even a chant at times, and very captivating. A must-read.

4. Mend-Ooyo Gombojav

He has written quite a lot of novels, with many of them luckily translated into English.

His "The Holy One" is a great work of historical fiction, about a 19th century poet and teacher of Buddhism, whose memory and works were later persecuted by the governments fight against intellectuals and free-thinkers, all whilst his works protector attempted to save his works.

Unfortunately I've only read excerpts and bits and pieces, which is pretty frustrating because it seems so good? The style is unusual for me, but it's pretty great either way.

I've read the peom "The Way of the World", which has a rather nostalgic vibe, remembering the past warriors and their heroic deeds but also suggesting that only the stories of their victories will remain. Short but "sweet".

5. Oyungerel Tsedevdamba

I only know her "The Green-eyed Lama", co-written by her and her husband Jeffrey Lester Falt, but the plot description is enough to have me hooked. A love triangle, love and faith amidst war and rebellion... Here's me hoping that it won't be a tear-jerker, because sad endings are not my favorite genre.

Here's a link to a video about Oyungerel's and Jeffrey's writing and research process and how they wrote the novel. It's actually based on a true real-life story, so I guess I'll see how reading this novels turn out. History isn't exactly known for it's happy endings, so we shall see.

6. Combo: Mongolian Short Stories

This one is a compilation of short stories by various Mongolian authors rather than just one author, but it'll have to do because Number 6 exhausts all my knowledge of Mongolian literature.

Edited and compiled by Henry G. Schwarz, each story is about 4-15 pages long with different themes, ranging from daily life in rural Mongolia to critiques of the political situation at the time, the style is a tad over the place, as each author has their own distinct style. Nonetheless, this book gives interesting insights into what life was like in Mongolia at the time, and whether our notions and initial ideas about Mongolia reflect the literary depictions.

Here's my list so far, but chances are I'll update it soon, so watch out for any new updates!

I'll happily share any links and digital copies of these works that I have, just message me please!

#college life #literature #book blr #study blr #light academia #mongolia #slavic roots western mind #Mongolian literature #student life #student

[dolphin1812]

The Waterloo digression is here!

It’s interesting to see how far off from the rest of the narrative this section takes us - not just as a digression, but through dragging us into an 1861 visit by the narrator, who inserts himself into the narrative to a much greater extent than before. We open with the idea that this is a description of a visit undertaken by the narrator “last year” (1861), giving us a connection to the narrator rather than the characters and positioning this as something immediately relevant to us as the audience (Hugo was writing to an 1860s audience, so even if this feels distant for us, the idea is that “this is what Waterloo is like now,” not “here’s some stuff about France’s past” like we’ve had with the rest of the historical sections so far). We know he’s going to talk about Napoleon, of course, but this sense of recency is intriguing.

The build-up to identifying this place as Waterloo is also so dramatic (”something which, at a distance, resembled a lion” is among my favorite over-the-top moments here). It adds to the sense of this place’s monumental significance, of course, but it’s also a bit funny.

Hugo also goes all-out with the description here. He’s so specific about the places around him (Lillois, Bois Seigneur Isaac, etc), the landscape (describing the hills, the valley), and what life in the area is like (the girl working in a field, signs of a show). He goes into detail about the other historical structures here as well, noting a gate built in the style favored under Louis XIV (I don’t know if there’s a political point here as well with this link to absolutism, but regardless, I love that he’s taking the time to show off his architectural knowledge). His description is, additionally, really beautiful in some sections. I particularly love the paragraph where he spots the hole made by the cannon-ball and how it describes the weather.

Hugo also chooses to portray the narrator as more of a wanderer than a tourist. At the end of the chapter, he asks where he is, suggesting that even if he was intentionally going to Waterloo, his route was not entirely direct, with him taking time to enjoy the rest of his journey there. It underscores the difficulties of travel in the period as well, as knowledge of an area would depend on the ability to communicate with people there to a greater extent than it would today (especially in an unpopulated area with no signs, like the one he seems to describe). I feel like this notion of a “wayfarer” or “wanderer” is a very Romantic one; any piece of writing that ends with a traveler gazing at the horizon from a distance (especially in a 19th-century work) automatically brings this image to mind:

It’s not exactly what Hugo describes, but I do feel like the Romanticism slipped in a bit there.

#les mis letters #lm 2.1.1