#I made a list of six things I want to write about-so expect those this week if they all end up happening :)

[skoulsons]

Talking about the sniper section bc it’s. My heart feels like that house.

First, BEAUTIFULLY DONE. absolutely perfect, every part of it. But rewatching, Joel never stops watching Ellie. Not for a second. He’s watching where she’s going and he’s watching behind her for infected. When she’s knocked to the ground after Joel shoots the one clicker, she spots an open window in a van. Joel is watching her and sees where she’s looking and knows exactly where she’s trying to go. You see his eyes move to the left to see the van. And she knows he’ll kill all of the infected in her way. Because she trusts him. And because he won’t let her die.

And once Ellie’s in the van, Joel’s fire ceases except for killing the ones behind it. He is only looking out for her. Anything gets close to that van, he’s there immediately. There’s a shot of him after the bloater surfaces of him just watching. Not firing, just observing the van. Watching for infected. Keeping her safe.

And then one comes up, a young girl in a BLUES CLUES SHIRT, and you see the panic immediately on his face. He goes from completely still to shaking. He fires and he misses. His reload even feels rushed. His breath is shaky, hitching even. His entire face is trembling. And then the clicker is in the car and he can’t see it anymore. He can’t protect her anymore. And it cuts again to him taking two quick, rushed, and paralyzing breaths. He adjusts his grip on the gun because his hands are sweating. And now he, much like she had to minutes prior, has to trust that she can and will get out of this, as much as he wants to be the one to save her from it

Then it cuts to Joel again when she’s outside the van.

This is panic. Fear. This is not knowing what’s coming out of that van. If that clicker ate a hole in her neck and it’s the one escaping. The fear of not knowing her fate and if he just lost her again. Of not being able to protect her because he can’t see her through the windows of the van. The fear of so many uncertainties.

And this is relief. His shoulders have even fallen back slightly, relaxing. When he sees she’s out and closed the door on the clicker. That she’s, in a weird, twisted way, safe again. Because he can protect her again. Because he can, and will, kill every infected in her path.

And then she’s on the ground and they can see each other again. Ellie looks over to Henry and Sam and sees them struggling under the car. She can’t leave them. She reaches for her shiv and she looks to Joel in the house.

She’s determined. And he knows it. He can’t see them under the car, but he can guess what she’s saying. What she wants to do. What she’s asking him to do. To continue to protect her (like he’d ever stop), as dangerous and heart attack inducing as it will be for him to see her do this. And he makes a face that Pedro seems to make in every role he plays.

This face. This face, to me, means a plethora of different things depending on his role. But in this context, it’s more of a ‘fine, I’ll do it. I’ve got you’ one. He even nods slightly. Really slightly. Deep down, he wants them safe, too. It’s dangerous down there. It’s full of infected. And he’d like nothing more than to get out of there with her in one piece. But Ellie has a big heart. She cares about Henry and Sam. And Joel knows that. He’s seen how she’s been with Sam. Laughing with him, reading with him, signing with him, playing soccer with him. How long has it been since she’s been able to do this with another kid? But Ellie’s asks him just a little more. I need to get to them. Protect me.

And he does, of course he does. He kills five(?) clickers that touch her or get in her path. And he’s no longer shaking. He’s as stable as ever in firing. He nails every single shot, killing every clicker in her way. Ellie gets to Henry and Sam, killing the clicker on Henry and stabbing the one on Sam while Joel finishes it off. And he watches for any more that come their way. And once he sees they’re in the clear, he leaves and meets up with them immediately

Main point being - protective dad Joel <3

[heliads]

ok so… i’m totally obsessing over Newt from TMR rn but i’m not sure if u still write for him🤧 but if u do i was thinking maybe something like during bonfire night the reader has had too many special drinks from Gally, accidentally confesses to Newt and lists everything she loves about him and then Newt gets all flustered and stuff (he’s so cute omg) but the reader is too drunk to go back to their own hammock so then Newt carries reader to their hammock but ends up sharing a hammock and then the reader doesn’t remember anything the next morning and then i’ll let u decide the rest😭

gally's special brew as a plot device >> it will always be famous to me

masterlist

In roughly thirty seconds, you’re going to reach a milestone you never thought possible. You’ve been waiting for this for a while now, counting down the days and hours and minutes like you were going to find yourself anywhere other than right here when your self-imposed timer went off. All you’ve got to remember the date is a memory, but given the fact that you only recall so many of those, it was easier to place than one would expect.

An alarm goes off across the Glade, ear-piercing klaxons rattling off of the high stone walls surrounding you. The rest of the boys around you start to amble towards the source of the noise, the Box newly arrived from who knows where, but you stay put for the time being, just breathing in the moment.

One blond boy next to you, your closest friend and favorite person here, nudges you in the leg with his foot. You’re both sitting in the unruly grass, ignoring the press of the green strands against your arms and calves. You have a habit of always wanting to keep him within reach.

“Why aren’t you racing towards the Box?” He asks.

You tilt your head to the side, staring up at the sky. Robin’s egg blue dappled with clouds, it’s the only pocket of space outside the Walls that you’ll likely ever know. “Today marks one year since I showed up here for the first time.”

Newt whistles through his teeth. “Shoot, already? Feels like time has flown. I swore you came up just last month.”

“No, I’ve been keeping count. Twelve months and I’m still here.”

Newt winces. He made a promise to you at the very start that he would get you out in six months, then, when that deadline came and went, he lengthened it to a year. The oath was only sworn because you were nervous about this place when you were still a Greenie and unused to the idea of living and dying here in endless repetition. You’re no happier about that fact now, but you are more used to it, at least.

“Well,” he starts off, “maybe you’re still here, yeah, but Minho and the other Runners are getting closer to finding a way out, I swear. Minho says they’re this close to having mapped the whole thing, then we’ll have an escape route for certain. Just give it another year. You won’t even notice the time passing, I promise.”

It’s kind of Newt to try to distract you again, even though you both know by this point that it’s useless. Minho is getting closer to traveling every pathway of the Maze, yes, but what Newt isn’t mentioning is how little the Keeper of the Runners actually is to finding something useful. Whenever you ask Minho what he’s learned about how to get out of here, he only ever comes up with a blank slate.

Still, harping on that doesn’t exactly make for a good time, so you’ll let yourself play along with Newt’s idea of your inevitable escape from this place for now. He’s losing hope even faster than you, even if he doesn’t tell anyone. It would be good to keep up the pretense.

You eye his leg, the one with the limp, and nod. “Yeah, next year for sure.”

Newt sits in silence for a moment or two longer, then stands up carefully, offering a hand to you. “Come on, then. We’ve got a Greenie to stare at and stuff to unpack from the Box, no time for musing. Besides, we’ve all got to get ready for the bonfire later tonight.”

You accept his offer of help, and when you’re on your feet once more, your smile is back. “I forgot about the bonfire! Oh, that’ll make everything better. Always does.”

Newt grins. “You’re just saying that because it’s the one time a month Alby will let all of us get proper wasted and skip work for the afternoon.”

“Of course I am,” you laugh, “I want to have fun! Is that such a terrible thing?”

Newt slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as the two of you walk lopsidedly over to the Box opening. The other Gladers have already crowded around the opening, but there’s enough space for the two of you to peer in at the befuddled newcomer inside if you squeeze past a few Track-Hoes.

“No,” he murmurs later, once you’ve almost forgotten what you were talking about, “I don’t think it is.”

Damn right. You’ve looked forward to each Bonfire Night of your full year here with just as much excitement as everyone else. The soaring flames, the delighted shrieks and shouts of your friends, plus Gally’s special brew, everything about the celebration is a joy to behold. You can watch Gally kick the asses of people who should have known better to challenge him, or observe the Greenie as he tries to figure out his name.

Or, better yet, you can sit in a circle of your friends and tell jokes that get progressively worse as the lot of you get progressively more tipsy and tired. The night wears on, the stars burn themselves out above you just trying to catch a glimpse of your magnificently roaring fire, and all is well, as much as it can be around here.

At some point, you look up and you’re sitting alone with Newt towards the outskirts of the gathering. You don’t remember quite when that happened, but you’ve refilled your glass enough times that the memory loss sort of makes sense. Does anything here, though? No, not at all. Not ever.

Newt’s grinning over at you, saying something that you have to focus extra hard to hear. “Are you lucid again?”

“Not entirely,” you beam up at him, “Have I had a lot to drink tonight?”

Newt grimaces. “Probably more than you should have. You’ll be regretting it tomorrow, I can promise you that. Sorry for not cutting you off earlier.”

You shake your head a little too wildly and have to pause for a moment to blink the stars out of your eyes before continuing. “No, that’s not your fault. You don’t have to watch out for me all the time.”

Something almost like hurt plays upon Newt’s features, mixing with the warm glow of the firelight, and it makes you rush to say something so he stops looking so unhappy. “Only if you don’t want to watch out for me, that is. I like having you around. Makes me feel better.”

“Really?” Newt asks, amused.

“Really,” you confirm happily. “You’re my favorite person here by far. Minho teases me about that a lot, actually. He says I should soldier up and just tell you that, but he can’t bully me anymore, because I’m talking about it right now, aren’t I? He’s right, though, I do like you. Oh– I was thinking, Newt, and– and I think I’m okay, staying in the Glade forever, if I’ve got you here with me. You’re the best thing about this place.”

You hadn’t meant to ramble on like that, but the words came easily enough from your throat, and Newt seemed like he really wanted to hear what you were saying, so you went ahead and let him. 

Newt sits for a few minutes in stunned silence before clearing his throat a little too loudly. “Um. Well, I think you should get to bed. Like, now. I think you’re drunk.”

“No,” you protest, “well, I am drunk, yeah, but I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. I mean it, Newt. I really do.”

Newt’s expression softens. “I know you did, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed anyway, though. I think some rest would be good for you.”

“Alright,” you decide. 

Newt stands up. You try to start walking back with him, but your feet refuse to cooperate on the uneven ground and you end up tripping more than you should. Eventually, Newt laughs quietly and picks you up, easily carrying you back to your hammock. He tries to set you down but you’re seized by the overwhelming panic that he’ll leave you here alone and you complain vehemently.

He’s still in a good temper, though (is it not wonderful to be needed?) and instead shifts so he’s lying down in his hammock instead, you on his stomach. You whisper goodnight to him and he says goodnight back, then a beat and a half later, did you really mean what you said? About me, that is? About how you–

You can’t really pick up what he’s saying, though. He was right about you needing rest, because the gentle swaying of the hammock and the soft beat of his heart under your head is just enough to send you off to sleep. Darkness pulls you under in an instant, and you’re rocked away to the tune of the crickets chirping somewhere in the distance and Newt still mumbling questions against the top of your head.

You can sense your hangover looming like dark clouds on the horizon, signaling a true storm of a day about to wreck you for good, but for now it’s just in the distance, not quite yours, not yet. The terrible feeling is warded off by an odd sense of calm and quiet. It’s warm now, warm and comfortable in your hammock, which is strange. Usually, you wake up cold on mornings in the Glade, but not today. It makes you want to snuggle down further, push off consciousness just a little longer.

Then your hand connects with something that isn’t one of your few allotted threadbare blankets or the knots of your hammock, something soft, like skin. A hand, one that isn’t yours. Your eyes fly open and– well, you don’t remember this, but you’re not exactly going to complain.

Newt is lying next to you, still asleep. You are curled up beside him, must have fallen asleep with your head on his chest. One of his hands is just touching yours, the other is cupping the back of your head to pull you closer to him.

Immediately your brain splits into two warring factions. One half wants to run away quickly, figure out what happened and why you’re here. This isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing, you know. Shuck, Alby would have a fit if he saw the two of you like this. Probably enough to throw you in the Slammer for a couple of hours.

The other part of yourself wants to stay here forever, to close your eyes and make Newt wake up first and handle it. You haven’t felt peace like this in a while. It’s just the two of you, soft and sweet and mostly folded over in sleep. Why should you disturb this? Disturb him? He’ll just be unhappy if you wake him and force him to realize that you’re here. Probably. Unless he’s the one who let you sleep in his hammock, which is more likely and far more terrifying.

Your issue is solved when Newt shifts slightly, rocking the hammock, and wakes up at last. You quickly shut your eyes and feign sleep, but judging by the movement of his chest as he laughs, you were caught in the act.

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.” He says.

You reluctantly open your eyes. “Maybe. By any chance, do you know why I’m here and not in my own hammock?”

You might just be kidding yourself, but you swear something almost like disappointment crosses Newt’s face. “You were pretty drunk last night,” he says at last, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

It’s a decent explanation, but that doesn’t explain why he’s looking at you like he really, really wants you to remember something about the events of the most recent Bonfire Night. “What did I do last night?” You ask slowly.

Newt shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything, trust me.”

“Then what did I say? You’re looking at me like you’re going crazy.”

Newt furrows his brows in a moment of indignation. “What? I’m not– I’m not looking at you like that. Anyway, you might have said a thing or two. Maybe.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Newt, if you keep withholding information from me, I’m going to rock the hammock so much you fall on the ground. What happened?”

He has the audacity to laugh at your threat, as if you weren’t completely serious about it. “Alright, alright. You might have told me that you liked me.”

Your sense of terror, which had faded briefly after Newt woke up, is back in full force. “I did what?”

“You told me you liked me,” Newt repeats, “and I thought– well, you were drunk, so I thought you didn’t mean it, but–”

“I did mean it,” you whisper.

Newt’s eyes are wide when you dare to risk a glance back up at him. “Oh.”

That’s a bad oh. Has to be. You move to get up and try to run away before he can look at you like that anymore, but Newt tightens his grip around your waist, forcing you to lie back down. “Wait, wait. Don’t go. I like you too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling, “Have for a while. Minho teases me about that too, by the way. No wonder he seems so frustrated about it, he has to listen to both of us moping around even though we both like each other.”

You laugh. “That would be annoying, yes. He has to be happy now, though, we finally told each other about it.”

“That we did,” Newt says, and you can feel the upturned crescent of his lips as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Maybe you spent a whole year in the Glade without ever seeing rescue. Maybe another year will pass without anything, or maybe five, or ten. Maybe you’ll never leave at all. Still, you’ve got your reasons to be happy after all. They start with him.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @w1shes43, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[peakyswritings]

Join the Italian summer

Heart, Body and Soul || One year celebration

It’s Heart, Body and Soul month! Almost year ago, on August 7th, I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul, and now August really feels like the series’s month. I can’t believe it’s been a year. A year ago I had no idea I’d carrying on with my project to actually make this a long series, instead of just imagining how things could develop further - and tbh I had no idea I would still be writing the first part lmao. I wanna thank all those who stuck around, your support means everything to me🤍

So I decided to make a little celebration. At first I wanted to post it on August 7th, but then I thought that it would be nice to make the whole month part of it. Whether you’re a writer or just a reader, this is something you can participate in, so if you’re interested keep reading down below!

And before I forget, if you’ve just come across this and wanna give Heart, Body and Soul a chance, you can find it HERE

CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

☀️ Be creative

For my fellow writers, feel free to write something summer themed featuring Nina, and of course your lovely OCs. It can be a drabble, a full story or even a sentence with a little moodboard, everything is welcome!

☀️ Gaze into the crystal ball

For those of you who might have missed it, a few months ago I made a post about Heart, Body and Soul having multiple parts and following the events of the series up until season six. Everything’s already planned out, and I know exactly how Nina and Tommy’s story will develop and end. Make some assumptions about things that might happen. I won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong, of course, but it will be fun to see what you expect of the story!

☀️ Behind the scenes

If you have any questions about things that happened in the chapters posted until now or have some curiosities about something/wanna know why I made certain choices, now it’s the right time to ask!

☀️ Fool for you

Not long ago I made a joke about the fact that I could write a whole compilation of Tommy pining over Nina. So I went to reread the chapters and counted 16 scenes. Send me a number between 1 and 16 and you’ll get one!

☀️ Snoop around

A while ago I saved on Pinterest some photos that resemble how I picture the Ferrante house. Send me an emoji and I’ll share a room with you!

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby @look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Strawberry, The Sheriff, and the Cartel Sheriff Beau Arlen (Big Sky) x PI!Reader

Chapter One: Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!

****************************************************

~Before we Begin~

A/N: this is part one of an ongoing series. If you like the story and would like to be part of a tag list: please let me know, either through dm or comments. Still looking for a beta reader, dm if interested! :) Icons are by me! As always, any and all interaction is appreciated!

I really love Big Sky, even for all its faults. And to be honest, I was genuinely hoping for a season four. Since we aren’t getting that, I’m writing this. I’m no expert on PI/Detective work, but I’m doing my best. This is a work of fiction after all.

Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to give any background and let the story speaks for itself. :)

Content/Content Warning: Nothing too crazy yet, but I’d rather a 16+ audience on this series for what might happen later. References to drugs and kidnapping. Cursing. Canon typical violence will occur.

~Without further ado, Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!~

****************************************************

Who commits real crimes in Montana, anyway? I guess I’d always figured that there wasn’t enough of us to do so in the first place. But, as it turns out, no place is too small for shitty people. Go figure.

Part of me has always hoped for a big case. Something high stakes, something that might actually make me think. I had always been resigned to the throes of missing pets and cheating partners. Maybe a B&E or a purse-snatching here and there to spice things up. Sure, those are still crimes, but a kidnapping tied to a cartel?

Now we’re talking.

Wait. That sounds bad. Of course I feel bad for the victims, I’m not a jackass. It’s just that this is where things in my career finally get interesting. Where if I solve the case, I’m solving something bigger than Whitefish. Which would really make me feel better about myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t really feel like I’ve made a difference with any the cases I’ve solved. Sure, it’s good to see Mary-Jane get her cat back or tell Kathy-Lee that James was in fact cheating on her and seeing her so liberated after breaking up with him. But none of that is bigger than Whitefish, where I’ve been since I was born. I needed something important, something big.

And this certainly is that something big.

Something big enough that I’ve had to travel almost seven hours from my hometown to Big Sky. Bertha, my truck, needed to get out of the house anyway. But seven hours… damn. Especially considering Whitefish could be renamed ‘Small Town’- I don’t think I’d had driven more than two hours till then.

Something big enough that literal drug cartels were involved.

No one would expect Montana to have so many ties to cartels. It’s so random, right? I mean, who even thinks about Montana in the first place aside from hikers and outdoorsy people? I know I wouldn’t if I didn’t live here. But I guess that’s the draw for these weird mob families. There’s not much of a radar to be on up here.

Big Sky had barely cleared out the Bhullar family maybe six months ago. A friend of mine, a fellow PI named Cassie Dewell, had told me all about it. She had been involved; her friend Undersheriff Jenny Hoyt had been one of the major players in taking them down. But in the end, as I understood it, the family had more or less taken themselves down. Serves them right.

But when one pot empties you’ve got to fill it with something new, I guess. That’s where I come in.

See, I’m a PI because I couldn’t be bothered with the how rule-abiding proper detectives have to be. Rules don’t get things done in the justice system, in my opinion. I’ve seen too many people either go down or get off when they shouldn’t because of it.

Rules are good guidelines, but just that- guidelines. Something to guide you, but not something that’s always right. If you want to get things done, you need a little more independence.

But with that independence comes cases that folks in the Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t even have come across their desks. Like the cheating, or the missing pets. So be it: I get paid more; and anyway, sometimes the “dumb” stuff is what’s best to get you ready for the “good” stuff.

María Almería had been the one to reach out to me. Her and Felix, her husband; as well as her three kids, Anna, Josue and Carolina; are neighbors of mine. They’re good people, and I’m pretty close with the family. I like them a lot, from the parents to the kids.

Usually I get hunches about people- its why I’m good at my job. When Kathy-Lee asked me to investigate her husband, I could’ve told her off the bat that he was cheating. Not because I’d explicitly seen him, but for whatever reason I could read it on him. It’s like a sixth sense.

That sense must’ve been dormant every time I went to the Almerías’, though, because I had never once gotten a bad vibe about Felix. María’s husband was always kind, a good father- his kids would attest to that, a good husband- María never once had anything bad to say about him, and he actually carried his weight around the house. Cleaned dishes, did laundry… yes, the bar is low, but he is certainly better than most of the fish in the world’s hellhole of a sea. Not to mention that he was always genuine: never a bad word about anyone or anything, not even about cockroaches (those damned things are my mortal enemy). And you could see that genuineness his eyes, which are usually what gives someone’s story away if you know how to look at them.

Honestly, he was the last person I was expecting to go missing. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of him having enemies. With most people in cases like these, there’s at least one aspect about them that makes their disappearance make sense. Maybe it’s in how they act, or maybe it’s in the people they were most often around. I could rule out the first one: Felix has never had any senility issues, nor would be one to be prone to just run away from his family with no explanation. But that leaves the second option, the harder one.

When you know your client and the person that’s gone missing, things are immediately both easier and harder. Easier in that you know the client, and they know and trust you. Sure, that’s not every case, but in this case I was 99% sure that María nor her young children had anything to do with his disappearance. You’ve always got to have that slight doubt though, even if it’s just one percent. That’s detective work rule #1.

But in the same breath, it also makes it harder- the expectations and the stakes are higher. And also, you realize just how much you don’t know about people.

I had exhausted my every resource in Whitefish for a week, but there was absolutely no trace of Felix. María had even called him in missing to me before she could to the police- damn the wait 48 hours rule- and yet I still couldn’t get the jump on the blues.

The story was that María had taken her daughters clothes shopping while Josue was staying over at a friend’s for a sleepover. When they came home, Felix was gone. However, his phone was sitting on the table and his wallet and keys still on their kitchen counter, and the idea of him not taking any of those things was preposterous. He was one to always have them on him. That was why she called him in as missing after he didn’t return for a few hours. Her and her kids’ alibis checked out with both me and eventually the Whitefish Sheriff’s Department.

While researching Felix I had come across the name Bobby Ramirez. They had been in a news article together, set in Big Sky. And something about this Bobby, even from the pictures, didn’t seem right. His smile was just a little too crooked, his eyes betraying something stronger than mischief.

When I had asked María about his next of kin, she had said there was no one. But this Bobby looked so similar to Felix, to the point that I just had to ask. Apparently Bobby Ramirez’s real name is Roberto Almería, and he’s Felix’s estranged brother who lives in Big Sky. Never would’ve guessed.

Apparently the brothers had had a terrible relationship because, in María’s words, Bobby is “a nightmare.” I didn’t really get much more information than that, but the look in her eyes told me more than enough, along with the fact that she was visibly trembling. And the last time she saw him, before she even had kids, he had talked about going into a lucrative business (presumably drugs- fentanyl, maybe?) and promptly dropped off the grid. He’d asked Felix to join him and he had given a hard no, and I guess the falling out was so bad that the kids didn’t even know they had an uncle on their dad’s side. Once she had even gotten the feeling that Bobby could be involved in this, she begged me to back off. Even though her beloved husband was at risk, she begged me to back off. But I couldn’t: this family had shown so me far too much kindness in the past for me to just give up on Felix.

Bobby Ramirez apparently owns a repair shop in Big Sky. Bob’s Motors. Super creative, I know. It’s been open for about ten years- probably since around the time of the falling out. But from the shitty reviews online I have a good feeling it’s a front, since it’s still open, and the best lead I’ve got. María had mentioned that Bobby was in with a weird crowd, and that he was friends with Kory Jefferson. That’s where the presumed drug involvement comes in.

Kory, or KJ as he’s known on the streets, was and is bad news. He’s managed to weasel his way out of at least five arrests despite being a part of multiple drug cases. You know how? By being a CI for the police against his own employers in exchange for full immunity. It’s honestly impressive how many times he’s gotten away with the stunt, but I guess people wrongly figured him to be unimportant. Bobby being tied to him and Felix going missing just as KJ was buying mass property in Big Sky… it’s too much of a coincidence not to investigate.

Hence, the seven hour drive in the truck I’ve had fifteen years. Got it at the end of high school, a gift from my dad. But she was only supposed to last ten years. Emphasis on supposed to, cause my intention is to run her until she drops dead.

Thankfully my dad was a mechanic and he taught me how to fix just about any problem with the engine and the car in general. So, just like a truck that’s actually within its warranty, the only thing I usually have to worry about is me being a dumbass.

And a dumbass I am.

I had wisely decided to test the limits of the infamous last bar of gas- look, I only had to stop once so I was thinking maybe I could make it.

I thought wrong.

“Whoops,” is what I most definitely did not say when my car actually stopped just a few miles beyond the “Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!” sign. What I really said was a string of profanities so colorful and vulgar that I genuinely would rather not repeat them. I had smacked the hazards button, and then stepped outside and kicked the tire with enough force to almost break my toe, because one dumb decision wasn’t enough for me that day.

So yeah, that’s about where we are right now. I’m standing outside of my car with one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, weighing my options. The nearest gas station is naturally twenty miles away, and one thing’s for sure is that I’m no marathoner. It would probably take me until tomorrow to get there. On the other hand, I could do the normal thing and call a tow truck. But if there’s anything my frugal mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t pay for anything unless you absolutely have to. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it’s sort of ingrained in me, and in this instance, I don’t really want to call a skeevy tow trucker.

Of course; there’s always the third, very rational option: I turn into the Hulk and push the truck. Obviously that’s the most plausible of the three.

Just as I’m getting ready to be a normal person and figure out a towing service to call does a sign of life appear. Up until now, somehow, literally nobody had passed through this road. It’s another truck, burgundy and bulky.

I wave, my face still stuck in a scowl as the driver approaches. It rolls to a halt near me on the opposite side of the road, before the hazards flash and the driver steps out.

“Car troubles, I’m assuming?” a strong Texan drawl greets me.

“You’re assuming correctly,” I smile sarcastically, taking in the stranger. He’s handsome, classically so, and he sure does fill out those Wranglers. Looks straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, sans the cowboy hat.

“What seems to be the issue?” he cocks his head cordially, taking a step closer. Normally I’d be one to back away, but I don’t have a bad feeling about this guy. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t read his eyes, but something tells me I don’t have to.

“Ran out of gas,” I mumble, more than a little embarrassed to be admitting it out loud.

“Hey, we’ve all been there,” he assures me. “Do you want me to take you to get gas?”

“I don’t usually step into stranger’s trucks,” I tell him warily. As kind as he seems I can never be too sure. Ever.

“Well if it helps any, I’m the Sheriff around these parts.” He pulls his jacket to reveal more of his belt, showing off his Sheriff’s badge pinned to it. He taps it once, for emphasis. Oh, wait, this must be… “Beau Arlen,” he introduces, interrupting my thoughts. He outstretches a hand and I shake it. His hand is huge compared to mine, callused but still soft somehow.

“Your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Arlen,” I tell him, letting go of his hand.

“That so?” It’s endearing how he perks up at that.

“I’m friends with Cassie Dewell,” I explain.

“Oh! Cass is the best! How do you know her?”

“I’m a PI- we all know each other.”

“Huh, y’don’t say.”

“What, you sheriffs aren’t like that?”

“Can’t say we are.”

“Shame,” I say melodramatically. He chuckles.

“Can’t all be PI’s, now can we?”

“True that.”

“Soo, that ride?” he tilts his head towards his truck.

“Yes, thank you,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime.” I follow him back over the middle line of the road to his truck, where he opens the door for me and offers an arm to help me step up. Huh, chivalry. Refreshing.

He stars his truck and drives a little down the road to make a u-turn before presumably heading towards the nearest gas station

“So what brings you to Big Sky?” he asks, making small talk.

“A case, actually… it’ll probably be on your radar soon enough. I’m thinking cartel, not a hundred percent sure yet.” I decide to keep the details to myself; there’s just too much at stake here.

“Another cartel? In this county? Y’know the last one ended with the boy killing his pops. And the pops had left the kid for dead too. Not to mention that the daughter was a pain in our ass, moonlighting as a real estate agent… but don’t get Hoyt started on that Tonya ‘cause she still can’t stand the sight of her… sorry, I’m ramblin,’” there’s a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks, and it’s adorable. But frankly I don’t mind his chatter, he’s nice to listen to. I like how he gets lost in his own stories.

“No worries, I like listening,” I shrug. My dad always said ‘listening lets you hear the things you wouldn’t’a heard if you weren’t.’ It’s sort of a ‘no shit’ phrase, but it’s true.

“There’s a first- Cass and Jenny like to get on me for talking too much,” he muses, no offense in his voice.

“That’s ’cause they don’t know ‘too much.’ I once had a client who told me his entire life story from birth to present day,” I reminisce, not even hyperbolizing. “I learned all about the std he got from a prostitute back in the 60s at Woodstock, and about his five wives: Maryanne, Georgia, Gina, Kevin, and Sade.”

“Kevin?” he laughs incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me.

“Yep. That was during the eighties though, so apparently it doesn’t make him gay,” I laugh, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Wait, what was the STD?”

“Chlamydia,” I answer, without missing a beat.

“Wow, you have a good memory, huh?”

“Just for cases.” Which is true: in my daily life I would probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday, but I do know that at 11:25 am I booked the motel I’ll be staying at. You know why I know that? Because I had just made the KJ break. See?

“That’s damn useful in your line of work,” he compliments.

“Yeah.” We ride in silence for a little bit because my dumb ass can’t hold a conversation. It’s not my fault that my only friends are my mom. Well, and Cassie Dewell, I guess, but I don’t see her all that often.

“Okay, so the accent- Texas?” I ask. Trying to bring back the conversation.

“Born and raised,” he confirms, emphasizing his drawl. I smile at the effort. I like his drawl, it compliments the deep and roughness of his voice.

“Cowboy country, nice,” I say.

“Hey, not all of us are cowboys!” he defends playfully.

“The first thing I thought when I saw you was ‘cowboy,’” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Touché,” he laughs. “Truth be told I was literally raised on a ranch, so I can’t really be talking. Y’know, I had a really nice dog named Juniper. She herded the cattle, while I would pretend to “help.” By “help” I mean stand towards the side, scared of getting stomped on cause I weighed little more than a plastic bag from the grocery store.” More stories- I have a feeling he could write a book.

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a truck,” I mused, referring to the last part of his story.

“That or the gym,” he laughs.

“You a gym rat, Sheriff?”

“More or less,” he takes one hand off the steering wheel to flex his jacket-covered bicep. I wolf whistle, and he laughs. He’s a very large man, from his stature to his statuesque physique.

“Is there even a gym around here? I feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’m from fucking Whitefish,” I joke, referring to the fact that the only signs of life we’ve encountered are the gorgeous trees bordering the open road.

“Preaching to the choir,” he smiles.

“So, why’d you stick around, then? I heard you were just an acting sheriff,” I inquire, wondering why the cowboy-or anyone, for that matter- would want to stay here.

“I’ve got my ghosts in Houston,” his voice turns subtly melancholic, telling me not to pry. So I don’t, knowing the feeling. “But back to your question, there is a gym,” his tone returns back to its lightheartedness.

“It’s abandoned, isn’t it.”

“Well, there’s me. And uh, me. And sometimes Denise, who I think just wants an excuse to see my ass,” he laughs.

“Denise Brisbane? From Dewell and Hoyt?” I only know the name, nothing more.

“Yeah, she’s sweet- she cooks for me too, even though I’m a grown ass man.”

“Someone’s got a fan club,” I tease.

“Population one,” he retorts.

“Well maybe I’ll see you or you and Denise there at some point.”

“I’d like that… hey, you’re not joining the fan club are you?” he raises a brow from behind his sunglasses.

“In your dreams, Sheriff,” we both smile, and sit back for a second, the silence less awkward this time, at least for me.

“Y’can call me Beau, y’know. If you want to, anyway,” he tells me, breaking the half a second of quiet.

“Mk, Beau it is.” I like the way his name feels coming out of my mouth. And what a fitting name it is… he is objectively gorgeous.

“Hey, I just realized I never got yours,” he says suddenly.

“Huh? My what?” I say confused. Look, the road trip’s got me exhausted.

“Your name,” he clarifies.

“Oh. It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N- that’s a really nice name,” he compliments.

“Thanks,” I can’t help but be flattered.

“Where’s it from?”

“My dad- it was the name of some book character.”

“Cool! That’s a lot more creative than how my kid got named,” he laughs.

“You have a kid?” I ask, mildly surprised. Not that I think he’d be a bad dad after the half hour of knowing him, but just because since I don’t have kids I don’t usually expect people my age to either.

“Mhm. Emily- she takes after her mom, though.”

“You’re married?” I don’t see a ring, that’s the only reason I’m asking.

“I was.” There’s that melancholy tone again… something tells me there’s more to this cordial cowboy than meets the eye.

“Well in any case, Emily’s a pretty name for what I’m sure is a beautiful daughter,” I say, changing the subject.

“You callin’ me handsome?” he teases.

“All I’m going to say is that your mama was real on the nose with the name… Beauregard.” I decide to mix the compliment a little bit.

“You really think that’s my name?”

“No,” I confess, giggling.

“Good, I was hopin’ I didn’t come across as a”-he shudders comedically-“Beauregard.”

“Cmon, it’s not the worst name,” I chide.

“Well it’s certainly far from the best,” he retorts, and I shake my head with a smile. “Alright, we’re coming up on it now.”

I look up ahead, taking in the sight of this gas station that’s literally the only building in sight. It’s a bit on the dinghy side, half of the letters in the neon sign don’t work, so it says “De Ass Ton” instead of Del’s Gas Station. Go figure for this town.

But wait…

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison, taking in the sight before us.

****************************************************

Until Part Two, dear reader! <3

[tabithatwo]

Can I ask why you don’t like this new season of yj? No hate or anything, I’m just genuinely curious

I’m so tired and probably won’t be very coherent but that’s okay there’s like six more of these in my asks if I want a second more thorough answer tomorrow lol but a lot of how I feel is in posts on my blog and I’ll just talk mostly 2x08 here. I’ve been hanging on tight until this episode but it has BROKEN me. Like I’m in mourning lol. To anyone who likes it I’m so happy for you I’m not coming for you at all.

But to me the main issue I’ve had is how they have constantly had opportunities to go DARK and SHOW the devolution but they played it very fucking safe (the makeup being the catalyst, Shauna’s birth being truly the safest option possible, like an episode of call the midwife except a fucked up dream happens, etc) and there was no actual build to the level of violence and depravity (or even RELIGION BUILDING) that the card draw sacrifice calls for. The ate Jackie because she was already dead and the wilderness slow cooked her, they were all mourning the baby last episode, they showed us Misty feeling potentially genuine remorse and guilt for Crystal? The “cult stuff” up until now has been mostly fucking dbt techniques and self harm. Yes the shauna lottie last episode was intense but we got absolutely zero follow up on it in any real characterization way for shauna this episode.

Then they kicked us out of the room when the decision was being made and I PROMISE people who think that was a shit move are largely not thinking they needed to explain the card game. It’s about showing your characters in pivotal huge moments. Yellowjackets is advertised and set up in s1 as a psychological horror. I want to see the characters GRAPPLE with things in a psychological horror. Seeing how they got from point a to point b isn’t about understanding the rules of their game, it’s about seeing developed characters reactions to crazy fucking shit.

Instead we get a jump straight into everyone drawing a card and the group deciding to kill one of their two hunters. Would some be on board with no questions asked? sure, but to ask the audience to believe that it just Makes Sense that they landed here after being very fucking relatively TAME all season until that one fight (I was so scared after that scene and no one reacting that this is the jump they were making, based on one moment alone and I was so sad to see it happen lol) is a big ask.

Now add on top of that the way they’re cutting us out of the actual character driven moments. That wasn’t psychological horror, that wasn’t delving into characters psyches like we’ve been promised. It was a thriller moment, change on a dime, maybe for shock value I guess. To me that interim would’ve been a very hard scene to write, a glimpse even of them deciding and reckoning with this belief and darkness in themselves. It’s a large group with a lot to juggle and big messy dynamics. And the easy way out of that is to just not show it at all.

People keep saying “they don’t have time to develop things this season because of side plots.” But they CHOSE to have those side plots in the first place. They’re filling shit in because they don’t WANT to get into the nitty gritty. We watched musical theater and cops and whatever the hell else and whatever. Fine. Sure. But it isn’t that those plots magically overtook some extra brilliant deep moments that they planned on showing with these characters to actually WITNESS their devolution, like s1 set us up to expect. They added them to fill empty space.

I GET that they become brutal. I GET that they devolve. I UNDERSTAND that from moment fucking one. The draw of the show to me is not watching them chase someone. We got that in the first scene. It’s seeing HOW they get there. What has to happen to get them to that place AND how does it impact each main character. Don’t just list the bad things for me. Show me their reasoning and their religion building and their arguing and their giving in. That’s what the real story is to me. Because we just saw them do their first ritual kill, but we didn’t see much more DEPTH to it, with these characters that we’ve now spent 18 episode getting to know, than the pilot already showed us.

1 am ramblings please forgive confusing turns of phrase or typos lol

[galaxythreads]

i literally don't understand the mcu script writes who've bragged about never having seen the previous movies, like bro??? how do you expect that script to be consistent with the rest of the canon?????????

normally I'd laugh and be like Yeah, anon, these guys are insane, but you have bypassed Mental Breakdown part of my brain and now I am deeply, deeply curious.

---

Why is it that mcu script writers are so proud to be arrogant?

---

Warning for minor language.

So anyway, the person I thought of specifically as being Generally Terrible to the Franchise Lately was Michael Waldron, who wrote Loki, Dr. Strange 2, AND is currently working on Avengers: Secret Wars. (Yay)

So I did a lot of research about where this guy CAME from and how he's impacted everything because I swear to God I'd never heard of him before Loki. And now I see him everywhere, but usually only in loathing.

---

Michael Waldron, according to Wikipedia, is currently 35 as of 2022 and graduated from some Film School i haven't heard of and can't be bothered to remember. He is unmarried(?) and has been active in the film industry since 2014. (8 years, for those of you counting.) He started work on Loki in 2020(? unconfirmed).

The thing that struck me the most was how incredibly short his project list is.

My man has six (6) completed projects. He had three before he started on Loki. And while this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bad, it does show a level of inexperience that baffles me personally.

For comparison, Kenneth Brangah, one of four screenwriters for Thor 1's list is this:

And again, it's not like Brangah's list is enormous, but I do see a lot more experience under their belt before they were approached by MCU rather than Waldron, who had done three projects. Brangah had 20 years in sceenwriting when he went to work for Thor. Waldron had six.

And the amazing thing to me is that even the shows Waldron's executive producer on, he wrote like, two episodes for it? Then he handed it off to other writers. So he doesn't, as far as I can tell and I found, seem to have a lot of experience actually working the writing process, just supervising it.

(I could be wrong)

But here is his latest series Heels, for reference.

the section says "Written by" above the names, I cropped it weirdly.

---

So we have a man who has, at this point, worked six years in the industry. He has worked on three shows. He was the assistant for one show, he did not write in the other one, and he has written for ONE show, total. Produced one show, was the executive producer for ONE show.

What I am seeing here, is, from what I can see, a lack of experience. And it shows. Badly.

So why did Marvel hire him?

----

According to an interview Waldron did, where I'm drawing a great deal of this information, he has always wanted to work for the Big Leagues. He wanted to work on Star Wars mostly, from what I could see, but he didn't think that Marvel would be bad either. When he approached his agent about how to get working for Marvel his agent told him he needed to have written a movie.

Now you're probably wondering. I DID look at that list of projects he's been involved in, and there wasn't a movie.

You are correct!

Waldron wrote a movie called The Worst Guy of All Time and the Girl Who Came to Kill Him. It's on The Black List and was never filmed, to my understanding. But he sure did write that script. And that script, I believe, is where a lot of issues in Loki start to come to light, but we'll get to that in a minute.

"At some point the script made its way to Marvel as they were meeting people for Loki and that got him in the door to pitch and that pitch got him the job."

When Kevin Feige was hiring directors, Waldron walked in and "I thought I was going to get it, but that's my attitude, I guess, hopefully as unarrogantly as that can sound, but I think you got to be confident" (Waldron). Feige was apparently impressed and hired him on.

Which again, a bold choice that COULD have been great, to give a small name the chance to work on a project like this?? Incredible. Just not in this context.

I feel immensely confused that MCU, which is a multi-billion dollar industry, did NOT actually hire someone with years and years of experience like they did for Thor 1. Instead, they went with someone who, personally to me, didn't have enough experience to seem like he knew what he was doing.

So now Waldron is working in MCU. Things are going great for him. He has TWENTY WEEKS to come up with the plot, the scripts, and the story for the entire Loki series.

TWENTY. I cannot emphasize this enough. That is no time at all. They went from blank slate NO IDEAS to a full script in TWENTY. WEEKS.

So HOW then, did Waldron get approached to do Dr. Strange 2?

Apparently, Waldron and Owen Wilson were talking one day and Waldron got asked to do Dr. Strange 2 because it was just as chaotic as Loki was.

WALDRON: Yeah. By that time, I had been able to build the trust. We'd written Loki. Loki was in good shape at that point. It was headed into production. I was getting ready to go to Atlanta. Fortunately, the scripts were in good shape. One of our writers, a close friend of mine, Eric Martin, took my place and went and was the writer on set, which you've got to have, and he did amazing work carrying the show across the finish line, from a writing standpoint. And yeah, it was just, "All right. You did Loki. That was crazy. Come do Dr. Strange. This is going to be crazy, too." That was really fun.

And guess what! This is the instructions he was given FOR Dr. Strange 2.

WALDRON: It is purely, 100%, "Make the most kick ass Dr. Strange movie you can possibly make." There was no, "You got to get here. It's got to fit here."

Which, by the way, Feige stated that he had no plans for the Loki series beyond time travel, and Waldron was instructed to do whatever he felt like. A 100% most kick-ass time travel series, you might say.

---

Okay. So now that we have some background, I'm going to get onto my soapbox and explain why this man was a horrible, horrible directing choice and shows 0 understanding of the characters. This is going to go over Loki and Dr. Strange 2, for reference.

---

LOKI:

The biggest disaster I see with Loki is that the FIRST -- and I emphasize this, the FIRST -- thing that Waldron says about Loki in the interview is this:

Waldron: And I'd written a time travel movie about a character who was kind of a villain, and kind of a sh*thead, like Loki.

I think that the problem that Waldron suffered from the most in Loki is that Waldron didn't want to make a TV series about Loki. He doesn't like the character very much from what I can tell. Obviously, he calls him a sh*thead, but he never has anything nice to say about Loki as a whole either. He doesn't want to talk about Loki as a person, or Loki's story, Waldron wants to talk about the TVA. I seriously cannot emphasize this enough. Not once in the interview did Loki as a person come up. Loki didn't even seem to be a character to him.

The TVA is where Waldron seems like most of his time was spent, because that was, after all, what MCU wanted to do. I honestly, genuinely do not believe this man would have taken the job for Loki if it wasn't about time travel. Because Waldron could focus on the TVA and not Loki. Loki was an irritant he had to occasionally do something with.

And now we get to his script that was pitched to MCU.

Waldron: I sat down and I wrote a script that was a time travel action rom-com, is how I would describe it...because they [Marvel] wanted to make a time travel show. And I'd written a time travel movie about a character who was kind of a villain, and kind of a shithead, like Loki.

And the thing is, to me, sounds a lot like the TV series. A romcom, with time travel, and a sh*thead kind-of villain. That's the series we got. I do wonder how much of this pitch made it into the final series, because this is what Waldron had as a reference. (The director wanted to make a romance from what I understand, that was her vision of the series was this long-winding romance, and it doesn't look like anyone sat down in the writer's room and explained to them that the last thing that would fuel Loki's story forward was romance.)

And the thing is, Waldron doesn't seem to understand Loki as a character at all, if Loki is "kind of a villain and a sh*thead" because yeah, sure, Loki can be considered that, but that's not WHO Loki is. That's what people SEE him as.

Waldron at no point references having read the scripts for the Avengers, Thor 1 or the Dark World inside this interview. This doesn't mean he hasn't seen the movies or read the screenplay, as I often hear said about him, but it is strange to me that he makes so little mention of Loki.

This man is so focused on the TVA. Despite how much of a disaster the TVA ended up being. Here's some notable quotes:

WALDRON: What did I learn? Don't write one about time travel, because it's a pain in the ass.

WALDRON: ...A foundation of what constitutes a broken time law and what doesn't, so that we could then just, which is about Loki breaking a time law, and then you have to move all that stuff as far to the background as humanly possible, because you don't want the audience focusing on the rules of time travel during your show.

I love how "Loki breaking a time law" is supposed to be the center of it all and comes off as an afterthought.

And.

"don't want the audience focusing on the rules of time travel in your show" YEAH. CAUSE IT'S GARBAGE. Maybe if he and the others had had more than a weekend (exaggeration, untrue statement) to work on how time travel works, we'd have something that didn't make me want to scream into a pillow for ten years.

WALDRON:  All over our writer's room, our white boards were just covered in timelines. And it's just, "No, time travel works this way," "No, time travel works that way." That was the great challenge of our show, it was because the Time Variance Authority is an organization that literally manages and polices all of time, we had to define what time is to them and what time is in the MCU. 

I think we can blame this disaster on the Russo brothers. ^

WALDRON: Those are all questions we had to ask and define for ourselves. I think that what's fun about the TVA is it takes something remarkable, like time travel, and really packages it in a very soulless, sort of bureaucratic way. That's what was exciting to me, as a writer, was to take something so magical and just make it utterly soulless. -- So what we have is a writer's room so focused on the TVA that Loki becomes a secondary concern and the lens from which we VIEW the TVA, and then it stops becoming Loki's series and starts to become the TVA's.

But no one seemed to realize this.

And also "That's what was exciting to me...was to take something so magical and make it utterly soulless" is a GREAT way to go about time travel. I also think he applies this to everything and it shows.

So again. Writer focused on the TVA. Appears to me to not care about Loki. Spends a majority of the interview discussing ANYTHING but the main lead of his show. Does not want to talk about growth or character or WHERE LOKI CAME FROM? WHY ARE YOU NOT TALKING ABOUT YOUR LEAD?

But that's okay. Because we all know that the TVA was the main character of Loki, don't we?

---

Another interesting point, I thought, was how Waldron writes relationships. I watched a review of his TV series Heels, where the reviewer came to this conclusion about the main characters:

"...And that's just what made this show so fascinating, is that…all these characters, that in some way, treat each other horribly, but in other sense do care about each other, and they're all so entwined with trying to make this thing work."

and that sounded extremely familiar. Because this is the cast of Loki. Waldron seems to have discovered his Character Formula.

Thanks. I hate it.

I just...this man can't have been a bad writer in just Loki right, and this has to be a consistent theme across all his work? And honestly, he's worked on so little that I don't know. I can't have an honest opinion of him. From what he has worked on, terrible character chemistry seems to be the general vibe. Waldron does not seem to know how to write characters that you understand why they like each other.

Hence, Loki being abused by every figure of authority in Loki, and Slyive treating him horribly, but somehow they all like each other in the end.

Because that's Loki. The TVA series, Loki on the side, getting beat up. Because he's bad.

---

DR. STRANGE 2:

Dr. Strange 2 has a similar set of problems. It was written in a rushed time frame, there was no overarching idea for a plot and where the story needed to go, Waldron was just told to do what he wanted, and Waldron didn't seem to be too focused on character arcs.

Wanda, obviously, takes a devastating hit as far as arcs go, but I wouldn't say that Dr. Strange was spared, either. The two of them go through rapid flipflopping in terms of the growth they've incurred throughout the entire MCU, and it shows. Badly.

One thing that Waldron did say that absolutely baffled me was this:

WALDRON: I became good friends with Jac Schaeffer, head writer of WandaVision, while I was writing Loki. Her and I became good pals, because we were kind of in it together and everything...So, I had the benefit of just being able to call Jac and talk to her about Wanda's character and everything, because it was really important to me that I do right by her with what she did with Wanda as a character. And also, with Lizzie, who's a friend of mine. I really worked with her and made sure, "Okay, you guys just did this incredibly intimate show about this character that grew her so much. Let's make sure that we're doing that justice and telling a fulfilling next chapter of that story."

I am so confused. Waldron honestly appears to want to do right by Wanda, but Wanda's growth from WandaVision was destroyed in Dr Strange 2 (and I want to emphasize here that Waldron made no such comment about talking to Tom Hid. or previous directors of Thor movies) so then how did Wanda end up going through such a downward spiral? Waldron wanted to do right by her, and yet???

I think the biggest problem is that Waldron doesn't have to think long term. He's almost not supposed to. He said this:

WALDRON: Well, I think one of the joys of being a writer in the Marvel world is getting to make terrible messes and leave them for your predecessors

WALDRON: For instance, you write the Loki show and then you end up writing Dr. Strange 2, having to clean up your own mess and that can be a lot of fun.

WALDRON: And it will naturally connect to the MCU and it will naturally get the MCU to where it's supposed to go, in some ways that we expect and ways that sometimes you don't expect, and I think that's part of the fun.

Waldron was given the explicit instruction to write a good Dr. Strange movie, but not a good MCU movie. Part of the reason that Phase 4 feels like a bunch of puzzle pieces from different puzzles is that it was designed to be that way. Feige is just going with the flow to see what will happen rather than having any sort of idea of where to take the series.

"It will naturally get MCU to where it's supposed to go" is one of the most hilarious statements I've ever heard, by the way. As someone who has done original writing, and planned out a series, my 200+ page document of planning, background, and worldbuilding laughs at you. (And I still don't have it all finished, because I've had MONTHS to work on this). Maybe. Maybe they want to try and not publish the first draft of phase 4?

Waldron wasn't told to make a movie about Wanda, or how to progress Wanda's character in a way that made sense post her growth. And any problems that were there they blamed on the Darkhold, because it's someone else's problem to clean up. Very neat. Very good planning.

---

So overall, I don't think that MCU writers are proud of their ignorance, I just don't think that they see a problem with it. Writers are told to do what they want to, without there being any plans for character growth or plot advancement, so they do. They put whatever they want out on the sandbox and wait for someone else to clean it up.

Feige seems fully onboard with this plan. So the real problem, I think, is the fact that MCU is expecting writers to come up with complex, interconnected plots in twenty weeks, and the writer's don't have the time to write consistent character arcs, they just tell a flashy story because at least you get something out there.

I honestly don't imagine Secret Wars will be any different. Waldron has shown that he really really enjoys writing stories, but not characters. This is not to say that we should blame all of this on Waldron, because I don't think it's really his fault. I think it's more the fact that he's the byproduct of a system set to fail.

The writer's ignorance is someone else's problem in MCU, apparently. But don't worry. This will naturally get MCU where it's supposed to go. Just tilt your head and squint a little. Then close one eye. And then the other. Now you can see what brilliance Phase 4 is clearly.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

HELLO! I would like to request a full on fluffy modern!Sihtric fic, where he's desperately in love with reader and he takes her on their first date, and does everything he can to impress her 🥰 (I hope you like the idea! just want to give you a feel good fic to write)

Authors note: thank you @sihtricfedaraaahvicius so much for this lovely request! In the beginning I thought it’s going to be a short and sweet drabble, but then I started writing and it just got longer and longer and now the story already has more than 8000 words and I haven’t  fully finished yet, so I decided to split it into several parts. Don’t worry - that sweet date will come somewhere towards the end, please, just be patient …

Summary: Sihtric – a talented artist – juggles between his passion for painting and his job as a graphic designer. At the corporate Christmas party, Sihtric's unspoken feelings for his boss are tested when a twist of fate brings them closer than expected. 

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: actually none, fluff, suppressed feelings

Word Count: 3,4 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Sihtric's alarm buzzed softly, pulling him out of his slumber with a gentle tune. He'd done it again, painted till the wee hours, lost in his own world. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up. 

"Man, today's gonna be a long one," he mumbled, stretching wide enough to feel every vertebra pop.

Hopping out of bed, he wandered to the bathroom. While scrubbing his teeth and waking himself up with a splash of cold water, his mind played out the day's agenda. And looming large on that list was that meeting with you, his boss.

He had joined the advertising firm as a graphic designer just six months back, when it once again had become evident that his unpredictable art sales were simply not enough to cover rent and other bills. And in this short time, he had come to genuinely admire you. It wasn't just because you were the master over his paycheck. No, it was more. You were smart and intelligent, with a discerning eye, having worked with some of the industry's best, always full of energy and bursting with unexpected ideas.

As his coffee brewed, filling the room with a comforting aroma, Sihtric glanced at his workstation. Sketches, notes, and reminders littered the space. He had poured his soul into designs for a crucial client this week.

Sipping his coffee, warmth spreading through his fingers, Sihtric's mind drifted. He thought back to his job interview with you - how awe-struck he had been by your charisma. Every tiny detail from that day was imprinted in his mind: the way your hair framed your face, that crisp white blouse, your piercing gaze, and the assertive yet gentle tone of your voice. It felt like a dream, one where he forgot the reason he was even in that room to begin with.

You looked down at his portfolio and then back up at him, your gaze unyielding.

"Sihtric, I see you've worked with a few ad agencies before. Can you tell me about a particularly challenging project you've undertaken and how you tackled it?"

Those eyes of yours, he got trapped in them like a butterfly in a giant coweb, the question almost going unnoticed. "Oh, um, yeah," he started, voice wavering a touch, "So, there was this campaign... for a... thing, and I did, well, design stuff?"

Your eyebrow raised in a playful challenge, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, "Design stuff? Could you elaborate, please?"

Embarrassed, he tried to muster a clearer answer. "Right, what I meant was I led the visual side of this big campaign. We had... differing views in the team. But, I managed to sort it out, and... made some designs?" He was mentally slapping himself on the face for his incoherence, but there was nothing he could do about it. His mind was racing. He couldn't help but notice the little details – the glint of your necklace, the soft curve of your lips. Vivid images of your fingers brushing against his skin or tangling in his hair made him sweat and he could swear his heart had jumped to his throat.

You leaned forward, placing his portfolio on the desk. "Sihtric, take a deep breath. I'm interested in your work and your experience. Let's try that again. Take your time."

He nodded, grateful for the second chance. Drawing a long breath, he tried to push aside his nervous admiration for you to give a more composed answer. The whole meeting remained a hazy whirlwind for him. Exiting your office, he felt like he'd just finished a marathon, convinced he’d made a fool of himself and butchered his chances. The real shocker came the next day when your secretary called to tell him he'd landed the job.

Sometimes he pondered if he should've declined. He never foresaw the toll it'd take on his heart. Sure, you were drop-dead gorgeous, but it wasn't just that. It was the air around you, the way you carried yourself, the balance between assertiveness and genuine warmth.

And therein lay the rub. Each interaction, from official meetings to casual chat near the coffee machine, even the fleeting moments your fingers grazed while sharing documents, tested Sihtric’s composure. He'd often find himself lingering on your laugh a second too long or jumping at chances to help you out, constantly trying to dial back before raising suspicion.

He had a love-hate relationship with big projects, especially the one he was working on now. The upside was of course spending more time with you – those endless late brainstorming evenings, project discussions gulping down morning coffees, or those afternoon progress check-ins. And then there were of course those quick breaks with some casual chats about movies or music. He lived for these moments, yet they twisted his gut, making the 'keep it professional' attitude so much harder. 

Man, when you'd burst into laughter over some silly office joke or shared tidbits from your weekend, it was like a sneak peek into the real you, the person behind the boss. And, boy, did it send him spiralling.

It was a rollercoaster of emotions. The giddy highs from just being close to you followed by sinking  lows, realising his feelings might always remain a secret. Sihtric took a deep breath, setting down his drained coffee cup. Another day, another challenge to keep that secret under wraps.

And let's be real. The odds were stacked against him. On one end, there was him – an artist, struggling for recognition and forced to juggle between his passion and job in order to be able to pay his bills. On the other, there was you – successful and recognised art director of one of the city's top ad agencies, mastering work challenges with a mix of grit and grace. The idea that you might ever look his way seemed... well, ludicrous and the fact that he was your direct subordinate only emphasised how absolutely fantasy like this notion was.

—----------------------------------------------------

The company's annual Christmas party was always a big deal  — a bright spot in the midst of deadlines and stress. The office would light up, literally, with twinkling lights and festive baubles, and for a night, it'd transform into a party wonderland. The aroma of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts wafted through the air as soft carols played in the background making everybody feel warm and fuzzy.

Sihtric was in his element, chatting away with buddies about holiday escapades and the usual office gossip. The night was looking good, he was happy and truly enjoying himself, especially because he'd been recently introduced to this big-shot art lover, who seemed genuinely interested in his unique art style. And thanks to this unexpected acquaintance an exhibition was already in preparation – a dream Sihtric had cherished for years was coming true. Late nights, brushes, paints, and the chaos of bringing art to life now dominated his hours and he revelled in that even if some darker rings around his eyes testified to the lack of proper sleep.

Amid this whirlwind of preparation, another thought continually hovered at the edge of Sihtric's mind — inviting you to his exhibition. He wanted you to see beyond the office guy, to the artist, the dreamer. What better time than a Christmas party? Every time he played the scene in his mind, it would end differently. Sometimes he'd imagine you looking thrilled and promising to attend. Other times, he'd envision a polite but distant decline.

And so he was anticipating your arrival, feverishly brainstorming about the perfect moment for his invitation, as the door swung open, revealing you, looking radiant in a black dress that accentuated every line of your body, leaving Sihtric momentarily speechless and stumbling over his words. He almost choked on his drink, his gaze glued to you, following every so gracious move, his jaw slowly dropping and eyes filling with an expression of deep frustration.

You were laughing, your eyes gleaming with joy as they met those of the tall, dashing man beside you. His arm was draped casually around your waist, a possessive yet tender gesture that made Sihtric's heart sink.

Every laugh you shared, each subtle touch, and those warm exchanges of glances between you and the guy  – it all was like a dagger to Sihtric's heart. A cocktail of jealousy and a pinch of sadness brewed within him, although he kept reminding himself he had no claim over you. He had never voiced his feelings, nor had he let himself believe that someone as radiant and accomplished as you could ever see past his name tag. "Get a grip, Sihtric. She's out of your league, and you had always known that," he told himself. 

But still there had always been that small, naive part of him that harboured hope, whispering tales of “what ifs”. What if one day everything would change and he would muster the courage to share his feelings? But tonight, that hope was crushed under the weight of reality.

Pulling together every remaining bit of his self-control, Sihtric pivoted back to the conversation at hand, all the while battling the urge to keep peeking over at you. But from the corner of his eye, he still saw you both — so wrapped up in each other, dancing to your own rhythm.

As the night rolled on, he kinda lost track of you two. A part of him scolded himself for even daydreaming. Of course, someone as magnetic as you couldn't be single. But, man, it didn’t dull the sting.

Feeling the need to step away for a moment and escape the party's cheerful cacophony, Sihtric made his way to the big, spacious balcony. He hoped the chilly night air might help clear his head from the whirlwind inside. The evening had started so full of hope and anticipation and now was completely ruined for him. Sihtric lit his cigarette, as he suddenly caught a murmured conversation approaching. Hoping for some privacy, he ducked behind a column, trying to blend into the shadows.

He heard at least two people stepping out on the balcony, and suddenly, it was your unmistakable voice that reached him, filled with pain and frustration. "Why her, of all people? My own secretary!" you exclaimed.

"It just... happened," the defensive reply came, which he recognized as your boyfriend's voice.

You shot back, "And you thought hiding it was the answer? I had to find out at our office Christmas party?"

The man mumbled something incomprehensible in response. 

"We're done. Just go. I need to be alone right now," Sihtric heard your voice, quivering with a mix of anger and hurt. 

Caught off guard, Sihtric felt awkward overhearing such a raw, personal exchange. He contemplated stepping out and admitting he was there, but before he could, he heard your boyfriend's quick exit and the sharp sound of the balcony door closing.

He briefly considered staying hidden and letting the moment pass, but seeing the unmistakable pain in your stance, he instantly ditched the idea. Taking a breath, he gave a gentle cough to signal his presence and slowly stepped forward, finding you looking distraught, the twinkling lights from inside casting a glow that made your tear-streaked face glisten. It stung seeing you like this, especially when it felt like he was trespassing on such a personal moment.

Embarrassment and shock pulsed through you with every beat of your heart. Of everyone to witness this breakdown, it just had to be Sihtric - not some fleeting acquaintance, but someone you saw and interacted with every day, someone who knew you and respected you. At least until now.

A wave of panic washed over you. Would he think differently of you now? Your carefully curated image of always being composed was now in pieces. The barriers you'd built so diligently over time  – gone in a heartbeat.

 “Of all the moments...” you whispered.

Sihtric, sensing your turmoil and looking for a distraction handed you a tissue. The balcony was wrapped in a heavy silence until you mustered, "I'm sorry. You didn’t need to be a part of that."

"I didn’t mean to intrude," he responded, "It just happened so fast."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "This isn’t how I imagined tonight would go."

"We've all been there," he said gently, trying to lighten the mood.

Choking back a laugh, you replied, "Yeah, but usually not with an audience."

He grinned, trying to keep things casual. "Think of me as a very interested passerby."

Seeing your surprise, he quipped, "Your ex might think he's a shooting star, but to me, he seemed more like a sparkler that fizzled out. And for the record – he's an idiot."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "Nice try. But thank you. Really."

Sihtric gave a playful shrug. "I’m just being real. But hey, are you okay?"

You paused, your voice softer, "Been better. Thanks for lightening the mood, though."

He took a breath, "Look, I don't want to intrude any more than I have, but you seem like you could use company right now. Can I do something for you? Can I get you a drink perhaps?"

You mulled it over briefly, then nodded, "Alright. As if things could get any worse."

With a comforting smile, Sihtric said, "I’ll be right back."

—-----------------------------------------

The party's noise faded to a dull murmur as you both got lost in the chat.

Sihtric felt a mix of things. It pained him to see you upset, but man, he couldn't deny the thrill of getting this unplanned time with you. He kept sneaking looks, thinking how your smile looked even cooler up close.

A strand of your hair playfully draped across your face, and he had to resist the urge to gently push it back. And with the soft background music, an invitation to dance nearly escaped his lips. But he held back, sensing it might be a step too far.

His art exhibition was on his mind too. He wanted to share it, just needed to slide it into the conversation smoothly.

"You know," he started, swirling the last sip of his drink thoughtfully.  "Besides the whole graphic designer stuff, I paint. There's something magic about splashing colours on a canvas."

You looked intrigued. "Is that so? I always thought your designs had an extra touch of soul. Like there's a story hidden in every piece."

Sihtric chuckled, his eyes brightening, clearly stoked by your comment. The two of you continued to chat, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Emboldened by the ambiance and perhaps that second cocktail, Sihtric leaned in a bit, "You know, I actually have an exhibition coming up soon. It's a collection of my recent works. I... I’d really love it if you could come. I think you might appreciate the stories behind the paintings."

You blinked, processing this. You knew Sihtric was talented, but an entire exhibition? "I'm in," you smiled. "Always had a soft spot for art, especially when it's by someone I know."

His eyes brightened noticeably, and he fought to keep his composure, a warmth spreading across his cheeks.

As the evening wore on, the earlier events combined with the cocktails left you in a heady state. Your laughter became louder, and your steps weren't as sure. Noticing your state and the watchful eyes around, Sihtric decided to step in. This was not the right place to put your vulnerability on display with all the employees and bosses of the company gathered in one place. 

Fetching your coat, he gently wrapped it around you, subtly guiding you towards the exit.

“Okay, boss, looks like it’s home time,” Sihtric said, his tone light, attempting to infuse some humour into the situation.

You chuckled, a sound that was melodious yet laced with the unmistakable touch of too many cocktails. “I’m not ready for the night to end,” you protested mildly, though made no effort to resist as Sihtric waved down a taxi.

When the car pulled up, Sihtric had a moment of awkward realisation - he had no clue where you lived. That was a detail that, somehow, had never come up in all your office interactions.

“So, uh, where to?” he ventured, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

You rattled off an address, the words a bit slurred but intelligible. When he recognized it as one of the city’s posh neighbourhoods, Sihtric's eyebrows rose a notch. 

The gentle hum of the car's engine provided a steady backdrop to your sporadic, light-hearted giggles. Every so often, Sihtric would sneak a peek at you. Tonight had been a whirlwind, and he was spinning from the rapid shifts in emotion. One moment he felt he'd lost any chance with you, the next, he learned you were single again. And amidst it all, he had managed to extend an invite to his exhibition. But as he looked at your tipsy, carefree state, he silently hoped you'd remember their conversation come morning.

Upon arrival at your grand apartment complex, you leaned into him, the evening's indulgences making your steps falter. As you fumbled around in your pockets for keys that were conspicuously absent, the reality of the situation began to set in.

"Oh no," you murmured, panic lining your voice, "I think I left my handbag at the party."

Sihtric's eyes widened as he processed your words. "Are you sure? Think. Where did you last see it?"

You tried to recall, but the fog of alcohol muddled your memories. "I...I don’t know. I think I left it on the bar counter when I went to get a drink."

Sihtric sighed, taking a moment to think. Feeling your weight lean into him as you struggled to maintain your balance, he instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist to stabilise you.

"Okay, let's think this through," Sihtric began, his voice calm and measured, "Going back to the party venue at this hour might not be the best idea. They're likely cleaning up or closing already. Tomorrow first thing, we can check for your handbag. For tonight, do you have any friends or family nearby?"

Your head shake was slow and a bit exaggerated. "They're miles away."

“Any chance there’s a spare key somewhere? Maybe a friendly neighbour?" he asked.

You hesitated, "I... I've kept to myself mostly."

In the quiet night, the predicament seemed to amplify. Here he was, in the dead of night, with his drunken boss outside her apartment, both locked out. He could never have imagined a scenario like this.

After a deep breath, he said, "Alright, look, I have a couch at my place. It's not much, but it's comfortable. You can crash there for the night, and we’ll sort everything out in the morning."

You blinked, a bit caught off guard by the unexpected offer. On any normal day, you would've politely declined. But right now, with your thoughts swimming in a cocktail haze, you giggled and responded, "Really? Are you sure?"

Sihtric smiled, "It's not a problem. It's late, you need a place, and I can't, in good conscience, leave you out here."

The car ride to Sihtric's place was a tranquil one. You leaned into the window's cool embrace, fighting off sleep, while Sihtric's mind raced, piecing together the night's unexpected twists.

The dim lighting of the apartment complex hallway cast elongated shadows as Sihtric tried to guide you up the stairs. But with every step, it became more apparent that the task was not going to be easy. Your laughter, interspersed with hiccups and mumbled comments about your ex-boyfriend, echoed in the quiet corridor. And then, without warning, your laughter turned into soft sobs.

Sihtric, concerned, looked down to find tears streaming down your face. "Hey, hey," he tried to console, "Husch, it's okay."

"I just can't believe he... he..." you hiccupped, struggling to find words, the hurt evident in your eyes.

Seeing you in this state and realising that climbing the stairs in your condition would be an ordeal, Sihtric made a quick decision. Gently, he swept you up in his arms. It wasn't about your weight but more the electric jolt from the closeness, that sudden rush of intimacy that had his heart doing flips in his chest. Instead of pushing him away, you snuggled deeper into his embrace, your head finding its natural resting place on his shoulder.

Feeling your soft breaths against his neck and the gentle grip of your fingers, he had to fight to keep his balance. The ticklish sensation of your hair brushing against his cheek, your soothing breathing rhythm, and the lingering scent of your perfume all combined to form a heady mix that sent his head spinning. Every part of him was hyper-aware of you, so close and real, making everything else fade into the background.

Managing to unlock his apartment door, he stepped inside and gently placed you on his bed. "Just... just stay here for a second," he whispered, moving quickly to rummage through his closet for spare sheets and blankets for the couch.

But when he turned back, the gentle sounds of your breathing told him you'd already drifted off to sleep. For a moment Sihtric stood frozen, absorbing the sight before him - the serene rise and fall of your breath, the way the dim light from the street painted your face in soft shades. It was a moment of quiet beauty. Your hair splayed out, lips slightly parted, lashes casting shadows—everything about you in this moment felt so intimate, personal. It was a sight he'd never imagined he'd witness. 

Despite the unexpected turn the evening had taken, a warm feeling settled in his chest. He carefully removed your shoes and tucked you in, making sure you were comfortable. And this time he gave in to his urge to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment, silently wishing he could be the rock you leaned on, the one to chase away any sadness. In his heart, he knew he'd move mountains just to keep you from any pain. You deserved nothing but happiness, and the thought of someone causing you heartache infuriated him.

With you sleeping soundly, he settled on the couch, wrapping himself in the cosiness of blankets. As sleep claimed him, a dreamy smile played on his lips—a dream where he was your hero.

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 05/12/2024

I’m back! Two weeks in a row!

Very good Nerdie. We appreciate this. We’ve been keeping tabs and you’ve been busy this week.

I did dabble in a few things this week.

A new discord server started by myself and my friend fhatbhabie for Latinx/Black/POC Pedro stans. It’s one of those things where I shouldn't have been as surprised by the overwhelming support for it as I was. It’s actually been pretty awesome and I’ve had very thoughtful DMs. The name of the server is Unhinged Clubhouse.

I wrote my first mostly smut fic in a while with Dave York. Trule wasn’t expecting him of all Pedro characters but, the smut fairy does what she wants, when she wants and I just gotta roll with it. It was another entry for Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. 

Going through my inbox - mostly caught up but still a few outstanding replied to be made. Sorry about that.

Lastly, working on WIPs and deciding in addition to working more on Weddings 101 with Dieter, which other series I’ve been working on did I want to pop out there? Frankie and Ezra’s series are finished and I think I might wrap up the on Din series in the next part or two. The other Din series I have to workshop a bit. I have ideas of who I want to pop up next from Star Wars, I just need to work it in. 

Also Weddings Dieter: Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow and cheese? How do we feel about this? I also could use some help in deciding between the following for my next series: Marcus Pike vs. hot dogs + therapy, me finally writing nice things for Javi P, Dieter + brick house + you and a baby, and Pero Tovar + Dragon for revenge? 

Lastly, does anyone have some prompts for nipples? It sounds weird, but consider, this is me. Also with @mysterious-moonstruck-musings influence, I have a weird bullet point list and made a horrible drawing. I just need to write something so it will leave my mind. I hope. 

Side note: Nerdie now has reblogs queued up to July 21st. The queue shall know no rest! 😎

Nerdie, like are you sure there’s no recreational use of anything? Like really sure?

Nah, these ideas are all from a sober mind. And I shudder to think what I would be like if I did, so I don’t partake. Mainly because I’m a scaredy cat and also my alcohol tolerance is low. Plus I like mixed drinks. 🤭

Now it’s time for everyone’s favorite part:

Fic recommendations! I read a lot this week!

1. Worth A Thousand Words by @intoanotherworld23 (Joel Miller x f reader)

2. Chapter 1 - Howdy Neighbor! by @inept-the-magnificent (Frankie Morales x Plus sized OFC)

3. A Rugged Kindness by @pedropascalsx (Pero Tovar x F reader)

4. Just the Lilac by @djarinmuse (Dieter Bravo x F reader/OC)

5. Torment Part 2 - Terror by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

6. Torment Part 3 - Horror by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

7. Torment Part 4 - Wounded by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

8. Torment Part 5 - Victims by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

9. Torment Part 6 - Trauma by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

10. Torment Part 7 - Healing by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

11. Fall Into You by @megamindsecretlair (Kevin Atwater x black fem/plus size reader)

12. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 1: Meat Cute by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

13. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 2: One Bed by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

14. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 3: Happily Ever After by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

15. So Much Goddamn Talkin’ by @stargirlfics (Joel Miller x Black fem reader)

16. To the Flame chapter fourteen by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x fem reader) DDDE

17. Scattered Promises chapter 1 by @soft-persephone (Din Djarin x AFAB OFC)

18. Waffles and Cigarettes by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Javier Peña x fem reader)

This week I hope to have a new series up, maybe chapter six of Weddings 101 and my entry for the Dieter Bravo Brainrot Serve club challenge (it’s slightly over the word count - I’m going to see if it will still make sense on another edit). I dunno if all of those will happen, but at least one of them should. 

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie! 🥰 💜💜💜

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment with 'tag me'! New? Check the very bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 9~

Obi-Wan watches the end of Maul's translucent fins disappear beneath the water line, and scrubs a hand down his face. The jedi turns away, and plops down in a mediation pose next to the magma ball.

He hadn't quite realized the extent of it before, but the sith's mind was not… whole.

It had come out in the dips and flows of conversation. In questions about concepts that were common knowledge. Odd moments where yellow eyes would twitch off to the side, or stare into the distance. He expected any sith to be a little crazy, driven halfway to madness by the darkside itself, yes, but... this was something more.

Maul the dragonfish was a very different man from the unblinking, uncompromising apprentice he'd faced at Theed. Was it the… transformation? Was this clever, curious mind underneath the expressionless assassin all along? Was the sharp wit and quick tongue natural, or new? Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever find out for sure.

And none of that really changed his most startling realization yet: that Maul was strangely good company when he wasn't being psychotic.

All the kidnapping and such aside, Obi-Wan hadn't… he hadn't played like a youngling tussling on the floor for the fun of it in... years? Hadn't curled up with someone to sleep next to since… well. It has been a bit. Bless him, but Anakin is a handful. Adults-only time for training and private pursuits had perhaps not been as common as they should have been these past six years.

It did not help that being on-world and free at the same time as his usual partners for casual assignations simply didn't happen enough for his, ah… tastes. Bant was a prodigious, in-demand healer, and Kit was always hairing off on another adventure.

Actually, the dry spell might explain why he couldn't stop wondering about…

More importantly, it didn't help that for being the prisoner of an evil, insane sith, Obi-Wan finds himself ever more comfortable. That was surely a bad sign. There was some sort of prisoner psychology thing… stackhold or some such? Yes, his experience was probably being colored by that.

He finds himself a bit concerned that such a thing could set in so quickly. His stay at the bottom of the sea thus far was measured in days, not weeks or months. Was his mind prone to the… stackholding?

Obi-Wan regrets not taking more psychology classes as a knight.

The jedi master hums, leaning closer to the black stone to soak up it's radiant heat.

“I need to stop enjoying myself when he picks on me,” he tells himself. “He's being a bully, and just because I like it doesn't mean it's okay to encourage him.”

Obi-Wan resolves to stop rising to provocation.

“I need to stop responding with humorous rejoinders when he is being a smart ass,” he affirms as well. “It only provides him openings to be entertaining and establish… rapport, and rapport leads to regard, which leads to…”

He resolves to be more bland in conversation.

“I must find a way to free myself. Anakin needs me. My duty is to the order, and to the people of the galaxy at large,” he states the obvious. "Though Maul seems... really quite lonesome, actually. Hmm."

His meditative self reflection continues, turning over those thoughts.

Yes he needed to go home, and to go home he needed to escape… but how? Plan Aurek had been a supreme failure.

Obi-Wan knew of a fair few animals, had connected with hundreds of different species in his lifetime… but rarely did he encounter one that was capable of prevaricating. The octopus he had called for aid had come… but it had been sentient enough to lie. To cunningly send him feelings of curiosity and friendliness under false pretenses.

The gorogoro had betrayed him. It had died horribly for it, but that was no comfort.

Obi-Wan sighs. That really had not been a good result for anyone. He still needs help though. Down, over, that way, something like a hundred yards off, he could feel the faint twinkle of his kyber. He assumes -hopes really- that his rebreather is there too.

With a heavy heart, he reaches out into the seas with the force, very careful to avoid the nexus of darkside that is Maul, and the glimmer of other gorogoro. He does not want a repeat of the previous situation, but he will not simply give up.

‘Hello?’ Obi-Wan calls, in feelings instead of words.

‘I’m friendly. I'm safe. I need help,’ he sends.

His gentle energy reaches plenty of creatures, but nothing so dexterous or intelligent as an octopus. Little fish swarm by the water’s edge, excited enough to make little plips and plonks of noise. They can't help him, but the sweetness is heartening nonetheless.

After a little while he gives up. Nothing else with enough force signature to be large or smart was nearby at the moment, but surely something with potential would happen by at some point?

What he does not sense, because it is impossible and so he is not paying attention, is the panicking flare of his padawan’s force bond. Thirteen some odd sectors away, his tiny call for help had been heard by a fifteen year old. One who had been worrying and wondering where his beloved master was.

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[thelightsandtheroses]

This Month’s Fic Recs

These are just a few of the fics I’ve enjoyed this month, but there are so many great and fics out there by very talented writers within this. Like always, some of the below I still need to leave comments on but I wanted to highlight here as a start!

Please be mindful of any content warnings and I believe all fics/ blogs in this list are 18+

Joel Miller

All of you, all of me - @wyn-n-tonic o wrapped up one of my favourite Joel series and it was just beautiful. I love this series so much and used to read it (and her other joel fic days) when I was still a lurker

Fall Apart, Again - @wildemaven Heidi is writing a wonderful Joel series that I highly recommend - angst, feels, it has it all.

Drip -@trulybetty- Betty utterly destroyed me with this drabble

A Safe Haven - @darkroastjoel - Vee updated ASH which is a fave Joel fic of mine

Dark Times @lavendertales ari posted a great Joel one-shot that looked at Joel’s grief.

Frankie Morales

Resurrected Chances - @mvtthewmurdvck jodes is just a wonderful writer and person and I can wax lyrical about how she writes Frankie.

Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey)

Palomino - @fuckyeahdindjarin - I love this fic so much so far and it's so atmospheric and immersive.

Move Me, Baby - @psychedelic-ink Sil always delivers on some spicy vibes and I really enjoyed this stripper!Jack series

My Writing Throughout August

I updated Secret Smile three times (just) and chapter eight has one of my favourite moments I've planned from the start of the fic. I'm really excited for where this fic is going next as we’re starting to move beyond season 3 now. I've also been planning two future fics: a Joel fic (the insomnia bench iykyk) and a Frankie fic (ex!Frankie at the beach) that I will hopefully share more about soon.

Javier Peña

Secret Smile - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight

Favourite August Books, TV, Music, Games and Films

This month, I had a bit of a difficult time and so I haven't read as much as usual, but I've still highlighted some things I've enjoyed below:

Impossible - Sarah Lotz [book] - I can't talk about this one too much without spoiling it but it's a super interesting take on what it does.

Russian Doll [tv] - I discovered this show on a weekend where I felt absolutely and truly terrible and I just binged it. I have no idea how it stands up from that but it was such a different way to explore those concepts.

Barbie [movie] - I was worried this wouldn't live up to the hype, but I loved it and it was just what I needed. I sobbed and then cried with laughter throughout.

Unreal Unearth- Hozier [music] - ethereal, epic and as amazing as ever. What else could I have expected?

Oxenfree 2 [game]- if you give me a game where my choices affect the ending (like life is strange) and that has interesting spooky vibes? I’m there.

Stray [game] - you play as a stray cat in a cyberpunk style city trying to reunite with your friends. It's wonderfully quirky and I love it and it's clearly been made by people who appreciate cats.

[rocknrollsalad]

STWG Daily Prompt (Nov 19) - Giving Instructions to Someone

🔨 pairing(s): steddie with side clarkson

🔦 Eddie is moving into his new apartment. One that requires a bunch of new furniture be built. It goes as well as expected.

🔧 content/trigger warnings: childhood trauma, eddie makes a couple jokes lusting after steve, couples fighting

🪛 word count: 1769

🪚 bonus author note: writing was a real struggle for me today so this is a "I did my best" and not actually my best. I love the idea, hope I pulled it off because I am asleep now lol

It was a long road to here. Literally dragged through hell, twice, a hospital stay, and so much loss but here Eddie stood; in his own apartment. Sure it was government-funded and so new it smelled like plastic and cleaner but it was Eddie’s. All Eddie’s.

No more waiting for the bathroom, no more creeping around to be quiet at two in the afternoon, and his uncle didn’t have to sleep on a cot in the living room. In fact, he also got an apartment like Eddie but opted to buy himself a trailer because there was no way the government was going to keep tabs on him like that.

Eddie didn’t care if these weirdos were watching him. He almost preferred it. If there was some otherworldly monster coming back to finish what those bats started, Eddie wanted to know. If he could be the first to know, that’d be even better.

Plus, he wasn’t going to turn down this glorious studio apartment with its spacious floor plan and roof without leaks. Wayne could waste away at the end of a gravel drive, Eddie was a city boy now! Right smack in the center of the rebuilt Hawkins. Which everyone let him know, that that did not make him a city boy but they could all shut their traps.

Yesterday, all the boxes marked “Ed’s” were moved from storage. It wasn’t much, Wayne’s truck did the trick just fine. Today, they went shopping for everything else. Not one of those dusty old boxes held furniture. Eddie didn’t have so much as a bed to his name.

Big box store after big box store, Eddie burned through a good chunk of the money that came with the house. Wayne bought a few things, he said he felt obligated and who was Eddie to deprive him of the chance to buy that huge dining room table that would be perfect for D&D?

However, there’s a big difference between buying a few chairs at a yard sale or inheriting the neighbor’s couch because they inherited a better one and buying new furniture. At the top of the list was that the new stuff needed to be assembled.

Eddie was more than capable of doing it himself. Not only that but Steve was more than capable of doing it himself. And if Eddie had any say in this, Steve would be doing it. Sweaty, shirtless, and thinking too hard. Then Eddie could sit on the counter, drink beer, and enjoy the view.

Instead of that, he got Uncle Wayne. Eddie tried everything to live out his fantasy of giving the handmade lemonade (and a blowjob) but Wayne wasn’t having it. He knew what he was doing better than they did and therefore the only person able to put four boards together.

Things got so desperate, that Eddie called Scott to come and take Wayne out or have some sort of building emergency of his own. Maybe his car made a funny noise or something but Scott was too good of a guy to lie like that. Scott was such a “good guy”, he came over to help. Eddie found a way to make his problem worse.

There were now two middle-aged men in his “living room” shouting at each other over whether or not slot a needed board c or board x. If Scott pointed to the directions, which Wayne didn’t read, any harder he’d poke through them. At first, Eddie wanted to make jokes about the patience of a teacher but he’d worked with Wayne before, and Scott was using up all his patience. And he wasn’t raising his voice.

Eddie still got to watch but this show was not the one he pictured. It had the opposite effect. Steve joined in to add to the awkward spectator feeling, like holding the flashlight at the ripe age of six. They were breathing wrong, didn’t dare make a sound, and just watched and fought over who was going to be the one to run to the neighbors to call 911 since they hadn’t got the phone company out yet.

The running commentary, the snarky comments like those old muppets watching a play, got them pretty far but Eddie was never one for sitting still. Least of all when there were things to do.

After an hour of the most tragic bookcase build, Eddie turned to Steve and covered his face so his uncle (who wasn’t watching) couldn’t read his lips. “Do you think you could get that box over to that corner without being noticed?”

“Huh?”

“They’re going to be at this long after we go to sleep, I’m not gonna wait all day. So can you move the box with my desk out of their line of sight?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Easy.”

“Easy? Don’t make me laugh, it’ll draw attention over to us.”

“Seriously, Eddie…”

“I tried to move the screwdriver before you got here so no one stepped on it and my uncle came unglued. Fifty questions immediately followed by several minutes on why I wasn’t qualified to use a flathead screwdriver. He doesn’t even need weakness to sense, Steve.”

“He’s not-”

“Whatever you’re going to say isn’t right. He’s an uncle. They’re their own thing.”

“He’s not going to care if we help out.”

“Why do you think we’ve been sitting here? For fun? My dear Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven. You have so much to learn about the world.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the guy thinking he can build furniture without complaints from the old men.”

“Wouldn’t they want our help?”

“No! We’d do it wrong.”

“I know how to–”

“I do too and if the show in front of us is anything to go off, we might be the only ones that do know but that isn’t how it’ll go.”

“Whatever, fine. What are we doing?”

“We. Oh, I’m not touching anything again. You! You are going to pick that box up, do not drag it, and gently place it over in this corner of the apartment. Where, hopefully, you will not be seen.”

“Why’s it me, why can’t you do it?”

“I’ve explained that already, oh my god. Listen for once. If you didn’t want to have to do this shit, get a different boyfriend. Probably one that’s an orphan.”

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Fine, how about this? We can’t break anything in until they’re gone so if we don’t start building shit ourselves, I think it’d be faster to claim Wayne’s trailer. I could beat him in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Oh, that’s the part you do?”

“Yes. I bring to the relationship someone who can win a fight.”

“Dustin isn’t going to be telling everyone this when I kick his ass.”

“I would pay so much money to see that.”

“I’m going home. This isn’t my apartment, mine is furnished. Best of luck to you Munsons but Castle Harrington is going to be resting comfortably tonight.”

“Did you not hear me? I could best you in battle. Easy. You would need an asteroid to strike precisely on my head, strong enough to take me out and leave you wounded, at worst. Otherwise, babe. No way. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Very strange way to get me to do your bidding.”

Eddie twisted his head, stealing a glance at the others real quick before nodding. “Well played. I’ll wave the white flag.”

“Better.”

“Look, you have to move the box because if you get caught you have the perk of saying you don’t know better. I do and then we’re derailed by another ten hours as Wayne explains to you, me, and half of Hawkins why I can’t build a desk. So yes. Take one for the team. I’ll come help you once I know we’re safe.”

“Fine but if I get caught in some lecture.”

“I’ll bury you in your favorite outfit, gym shorts, tube socks, and whatever that weird little crop top is.”

“Abso-”

“Shhh, I’ll leave your funeral to Robin, c’mon. I’m not an idiot.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just gave Eddie that look that said he wanted to fight the points made but they’re accurate so he can’t. No amount of being together was going to put Eddie as the one to plan Steve’s funeral. He knew his place.

Inching across the floor, Steve made his way to the desired box. Eddie sat in his chair, breath held, and his stare ping-ponging between Steve and Wayne.

It was slow and torturous, still nice on the eyes, but Steve got the box over without being noticed. Eddie thought Scott caught him but if he did, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was smarter than Eddie thought…or he didn’t notice.

From what Eddie could tell, Wayne was trying to just glue things together and Scott was counting out the screws, repeatedly, because there were more than enough. No need for glue. At this point, Eddie would be lucky if he was left with usable pieces to put back together after this. For insisting he was the man for the job, Wayne was actually shit at putting furniture together. Something Eddie wasn’t sure he needed to learn.

Eddie crept his way over, wishing he’d worn anything other than boots today, as Steve sliced open the box. Right on top sat the packet of instructions and Eddie’s knee-jerk response to toss them aside was strong. It was a desk, how hard could it be to figure out? As that thought played in his mind in a voice that wasn’t his own, Eddie snatched the booklet.

“This is an important moment for us,” Eddie sighed, looking at Steve.

The confusion was clear as Steve stood there with an opened pocket knife pointing at the wall, frozen and waiting for clarification he knew he didn’t need to ask for. It’d come regardless.

“We could become them. That could be us,” Eddie started, nodding to the other half of the expansive room. “A bookcase couldn’t be simpler and, I mean, Wayne was asking for a blow torch.”

“No he wasn’t,” Steve sighed, opening the box so he didn’t have to keep listening.

“Okay fine! But we could have gone out to the forest, cut down a tree, learned to turn it into boards, do that, and built a bookcase faster than them. All because my uncle is too proud to look at directions or, I guess, listen to Scott but that’s Scott’s problem right now. So! Step one is to–”

“Unpack everything. We can’t put anything together when it’s in his box.”

“Mmmm, god…and you’re smart. You’re too much Harrington. Too much for me.”

[lowlypotatofarmer]

i have Many Thoughts about the rwrb movie!!!

okay i was writing tags for what was going to be a short snippet of thought on the movie but i just kept going in the tags and decided i wanted to write my opinions down somewhere. bear with me...

first and foremost it was exactly the type of cringe movie i expected it to be. the acting was pretty often subpar, as anticipated, but i have to say the leads put their whole PUSSIES into the emotional scenes. like the whole confrontation after henry essentially ghosts alex?? man those actors had RENT DUE and i love that for them.

this is 100% going on my list of comfort movies that i’ll end up watching twenty times, but it is, of course, flawed, and i would like to Talk About It

now, book to movie adaptations are very very rarely done justice, and this one proved to be no exception. i know things have to be excluded for budget/runtime/page-to-screen translation, and i am a smidge disappointed with what ended up on the floor

obviously june is a huge missing piece of the puzzle. i know she wasn’t hugely plot-relevant necessarily, but she was necessary to alex’s arc in discovering himself, and in her own character arc. i understand removing her if necessary, but i had hoped they would fill in those gaps with nora. which they did not do

getting into that, nora and bea, both of whom were incredibly strong characters in the book with their own story and interests and relevance to the story outside of being sounding boards for the leads. i personally feel they butchered both of those characters in the film. bea has no personality, none of the spark we see in the books. nora as well, was so so smart, was such a great friend to alex and was always there for him. her shining moment of emerging with the answer to the hack that no one else could find was totally excluded too, because of the change in that entire plot as well. i would’ve liked to have gotten to see the ‘super six’ too, like i thought the karaoke at the texas bar was fun, sure, but it didn’t have the party feel that made that scene in the book so fun, along with the groups blending to become fast friends just would’ve been great.

now…richards! he was such a non-person in the movie. obviously i don’t care one bit to hear about him or his platform or whatever it was we see in the book, but by leaving him and not having the trail lead to him regarding the emails makes it very dull and just a very thinly veiled question of ‘whodunnit’ because it’s implied that it’s the journalist but god knows how he got those or why or how he knew etc. not to mention the whole predator arc which would’ve been SO INTERESTING to explore and the exclusion of luna in order to tell that story will make me mad forever. but hey, can’t have twelve plot points in a movie!

i also didn’t really appreciate the erasure of alex’s bi awakening. i really loved how in the book he had to take some time to think through his sexuality and figure out where he stood (and nora using her analyst brain to help him with percentages would’ve been such a wonderful moment to replace that scene in the office, which was okay but could’ve been better). it was such an interesting time to read about, especially the call w liam, that i would’ve liked to see it, but i mean some things had to be cut, and in the end i mean i guess it wasn’t about their sexualities, it was about the people.

now that i’ve mentioned At Length some of my issues, i have to give the movie props for their text-to-screen adaptation of the texts between henry and alex. like having henry walking around the room narrating those texts, or being in bed with alex while they’re on the phone? such a fantastic move, it was awesome and i love how well it worked. i was wondering how they were going to do it with so much of their relationship being via text or email (and i wish they’d had more of the emails in there, like some quotes or some lines like ‘see attached bibliography[….]’)

i also thought sending alex to texas was a nice touch, i loved seeing him campaigning for his mom and helping to register voters and get to make a change in his home state. that was a nice addition that the book didn’t have.

and i know this is me getting all picky about a movie that is essentially supposed to be a love story, condensing a 400 page book into a 2 hour movie is hard, i wouldn’t want to do it, couldn’t do it, but i just think that there are some little changes, such as giving the girls a personality, that could’ve been made.

i might edit this as i think of more, i know there were some others but they’ve escaped my brain. hope this made sense, i read the book again a few days ago and just finished the movie so all the discrepancies are Jumping at me rn :)

(also rip to the cornettos scene…filmed and cut but never forgotten 💔😔)

[star-going-supernova]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

What a wonderful ask to wake up to! A tall order, tho, so I had to think about this for a bit, and it was harder than I thought it'd be. I've got a lot of favorites! Here are my top five favorite works of my own, not in any particular order:

The Art of Being Alive — Bendy and the Ink Machine

What would you expect if your former best friend wanted to see you again after seven years of silence?  Not this, Henry thought viciously as he swung his axe back and forth, like a murderous metronome. Never this. Or; an AU where Joey invites Henry back after less than a decade, because he discovers that only Henry’s drawings work in the Ink Machine. It's all downhill from there.

Of course this story is on my list. TAoBA was my first big project, fic or otherwise, and it will always hold a special place in my heart. I learned so much by writing this story, and while I'd do some things differently now, after years more practice and experience, TAoBA still makes me so incredibly proud. I met a lot of friends and amazing people through this fic, genuinely had so much fun with it, and I credit it and BatIM as a whole for where I am today as a fic writer.

• • •

Side Effects of Friendship — Little Nightmares

Six deciding to save Mono in the Signal Tower was only the beginning.  (this is a good-end, no-loop AU of my own making, as part of my quest to give these kids a happy ending)

Is it cheating to put a whole series as just one entry? I say no, lol. This AU and series is one of my favorites for a number of reasons. It's a very cohesive story, which I'm super proud of, and the journey I put the kids through mentally, emotionally, and physically was just so dang fun to write. I was super excited as I worked up to and hinted at the surprise twist at the end, and I really enjoyed taking this nightmarish world and expanding it in my own way. The themes of healing really seemed to resonate with a lot of people, and that also makes me super proud of this set of stories.

• • • 

Flood and Firestorm — Bendy and the Ink Machine

But it must have paused near his corridor because there was no way to ignore it. And the words registered. “…the Ink Demon’s refusal to terminate. Keepers have administered quarter hourly sessions of physical tortures—” Henry’s eyes snapped up. The kindling caught. (Henry overhears a Keeper making an audio log about how they're torturing the Ink Demon and goes ballistic.)

I've got a lot of BatIM fics that I'm super proud of, but this one makes the list because I am just so pleased and proud of a lot of the language in this fic. This was one of the first ones I wrote upon my return to the BatIM fandom, and I love it a whole lot. Henry gets to go a little bit feral, too, and that was a genuine blast to write. I've returned to reread this one a whole bunch of times.

• • •

93% Stardust — Godzilla

Indignation on his behalf, lingering irritation at Monarch, determination to help—she held on to those feelings. They’d gotten her this far, and if she forget why she was about to throw herself headfirst into the head of a giant mech with Ghidorah of all monsters at the helm, then she might as well give up now.  She slid the helmet on, squeezing her eyes shut as she did, and it was like being struck by lightning.  It was like becoming lightning. (I can't be the only one who wanted Maddie to get in the pilot seat, c'mon)

This one makes the list solely because of how much I love the final product. The abstract section was so much fun to write, and I still love the idea of Maddie getting into Mechagodzilla's head. The self-indulgence for this one was off the charts, which makes this one of my favorites!

• • •

Poetic Justice — Five Nights at Freddy's

tumblr prompt: In one world, Glitchtrap is nothing but Afton and code, forcing Vanessa into the role of Vanny in order to create Afton a new body. In another, Glitchtrap is Spring Bonnie’s original personality (before Afton), and he and Vanessa are looking for the last remains of Afton in order to destroy it for good… and just watched Gregory casually find it after months of searching. (Or, Vanessa's going to have a headache by the end of tonight.)

This one might be a surprise to some people, but I absolutely love this one-shot. The concept, the characters, the potential... it all just ticks a few very specific boxes in my brain, lol. I've gone back to reread this one many times, and I usually end up imagining different first meetings between Gregory and Michael afterward.

• • •

Honorable Mentions:

Taking the Plunge — Godzilla

This one didn't make the cut only because I had other favorites. If the list was a Top 6 or 7 favorites, this one would have been on it too.

Heavy as a Hurricane — Godzilla

I still hope to finish this one eventually, but it's an honorable mention because every time I reread it, I go "dang, hope the author updates someday, this is really good" before remembering that... ah. Yes. The author is me.

Body and Soul — Bendy and the Ink Machine

It was my first story back in the BatIM fandom after years away. Love, love, love the concept still.

the line between freedom and surrender — Bendy and the Ink Machine

This one nearly made the list because it really hits the spot for me. I'm really proud of the dialogue in this one.

see what i've become (i will no longer feed the machine) (strings 'verse) — Five Nights at Freddy's

I'm very proud of the healing in this series, in the first and last stories especially.

[pippinoftheshire]

AO3 Wrapped [Writers Edition]

(Found this on Tumblr somewhere obscure so...)

How many words have you written this year?

How many works did you publish this year?

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

What work of yours has the most hits?

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Favorite title you used

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

What work was the quickest to write?

What work took you the longest to write?

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

What’s your longest work of the year?

What’s your shortest work of the year?

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Your Favorite character to write this year?

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

Which work has the most comments?

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Did you write any gifts this year?

Did you receive any gifts this year?

What’s your most common category?

What do you listen to while writing?

Favorite work you wrote this year?

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Biggest surprise while writing this year

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

I Don't know why I decided to torture myself by doing this but here we go:

1. 150,849

2. 52

3. And They Call It Salvation (TMFU/Unfinished)

4. House Telcontar (LoTR)

5. Oh… either my series The Fallout (Mission: Impossible), which was more of a self-indulgent thing tbh; or my long running Witcher fic, On the Streets Of Novigrad.

6. And Our Love Shall Be Like The Stars (TMFU)

7. The only times I have uses song lyrics (This being twice, and only for Good Omens fics) were The Velvet Underground and Lauren Aquilina.

8. Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin (Sometimes Gaby joins this tag). Second place goes to Ethan Hunt/August Walker. By ONE FIC!

9. Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

10. Scales and Secrets (TMFU) I think it took me two hours.

11. The Finer Act of Kindness (The Witcher.) Though there are a few others who come a close second…

12. about six or seven 😊

13. On The Streets of Novigrad (Witcher)  By a long shot.

14. If I Could Turn Back The Time (TMFU). At 588 words.

15. And They Call It Salvation (TMFU), Narnin O in Duath O Ernil (Middle-Earth) and On The Streets Of Novigrad (Witcher)

16. Napoleon Solo is a Little Shit. (Thank you, Writing GOD!!!)

17. Oh darn… tough one… Either Crowley or Illya/Napoleon…

18. Bruce Wayne. By far.

19. I’d like to do more Aziraphale/Crowley next year, but also to try and get back into Sherlock/John.

20. Eughhhh that’s an embarrassing question! …It would be, I Can’t Not Love You (TMFU)

21. 1,530

22. On The Streets of Novigrad (Witcher)

23. No, sadly 😊 But it’s on the Bucket List hehe

24. I did indeed! 4 of them!

25. No. Unless Kudos and Lovely comments count- I got plenty of those <3

26. Like Fandom? I’m confused. If it’s fandom then it’s Man From UNCLE 2015…

27. Dear lord- I have far too many playlists on Spotify- tailor made for almost every fic… So uh… Music?

28. At the moment it’s either We All Have Our Shadows (BvS), or Scales and Secrets (TMFU)

29. Blarghhhh why are these questions so HARD???

llya does too, but he is far from willing to offer that up. Now, in the stillness, Illya takes his first uninterrupted look at the man he has been looming over. The dark curls mattered with sweat and blood… eyes the color of a summer sky… O’ bozhe but Illya misses the sky… the way it would unspool in an endless ribbon over the city. In his memory, the buildings are untarnished, the clouds drifting on a slight breeze as a little boy runs amongst the leaves in a park, blond hair shining in the sunlight. Nothing has hurt him yet. Perhaps nothing ever will… if Illya does not blink.

30. Probably just how kind everyone is. The fandoms I belong to- especially The Man From UNCLE one- are just such wonderful people <3

[idrilka]

watchlist tag game!

tagged by @phneltwrites!

here's what i am currently watching/have just watched/am planning to watch (spoilers: it's all kdramas):

just finished:

hospital playlist: 10/10, ultimate comfort watch, i love everyone in this bar. it took us a while to finish the second season but it was so, so worth it. i laughed, i cried, i'm going to miss them so much.

weak hero class 1 (immediate rewatch): 11/10, never expected to get clotheslined by another stellar drama in the span of less than six months bad enough that it made me immediately want to go write fic, but here we are. i'm going to write a separate rec post for this one, but for all the school 2013/heungsoon enjoyers out there, this is required watching. it has everything: amazing acting, stellar storytelling, so, so much incredibly well-executed tension, unhinged, violent high schoolers, revenge, useless adults, failing institutions and social commentary on the cycles of abuse. also some of the best chemistry between the leads i've seen in a long while. (what i mean is: since my country: the new age.)

currently watching:

duty after school: since we're apparently on a school setting kick, we went straight from weak hero to this one, and it's been also really good so far. the premise sounds delightfully weird at first (aliens come to earth in the shape of strange spheres hanging in the sky, and in anticipation of the possible attack, third-year high school students get enrolled into an afterschool military training program in exchange for additional points on their university entrance exam, since early admissions have been cancelled), but things go to hell pretty quickly.

hometown cha-cha-cha: aka the drama we started last summer, but we are continuing our tradition of watching an episode or two, then taking a break for two months before watching another episode or two, so everything is going according to plan here. good for when you want a low-stakes, chill drama with some pretty views.

save me: we watched the first episode and we'll definitely continue. so far it's intriguing and creepy, and it has woo dohwan in it, so i'm guaranteed some aesthetic crying if nothing else.

racket boys: for when you're missing haikyuu. we also watched the first episode and we'll definitely continue at some point, because sometimes all you want is to watch a bunch of kids enthusiastic about a sport overcome the odds through hard work and the power of friendship.

joseon attorney: lmao, let me tell you, this was not love at first sight. i hated the first ~40 minutes of the first episode and barely managed to finish. fortunately, it improved a bit in the last 20 minutes or so, and i'm intrigued enough to give it another try, but oh boy, that was a struggle.

kingdom: watched the first two episodes, it looks amazing, and we will definitely continue.

to-watch list:

the eighth sense: i want to watch this so bad, but all the reactions of those of my friends who are watching it only confirm that i should wait so i can binge it.

school 2013 (rewatch): i've been meaning to rewatch this for ages, especially since i want to write another fic this year, and weak hero just made me want to rewatch it right this second, so.

dr romantic 3: the third season is so close and i need it in my eyeballs like yesterday. i miss all of them so much!

misc: aka everything mentioned above (apart from hometown cha-cha-cha, which we'll continue to watch well into the fall at this pace)

my to-watch list is a lot, lot longer (and includes more of woo dohwan and yang sejong's dramas, as well as other stuff like the uncanny counter or d.p., or things that won't air for a while, like bloodhounds or doona), but listing all of them would take ages, so this is just the stuff i'm intending to watch in the immediate future.

oh, and i'm tagging @dulosis and @grimdarkfandango!

[ereardonlibrary]

Come Back [Chapter 11][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of death

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You hesitated, the letter heating up in your hand, as you sat in your car outside of Bradley’s house.

The paper felt white hot and you wanted to drop it on the floor of the car, drive away and pretend you had never made the trek out to Gooseberry Lane.

It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, there was only a very slim chance he was home. Still, your heart pounded in your chest as you got out, making your way up the path to the front door. Yes, you had written the letter with the intent that he would read it. But you were afraid to see Bradley in person. Talk to him face-to-face.

You still weren’t ready.

Thankfully there was no movement on the other side of the door as you slipped the letter underneath.

Back in the car, you leaned your head back against the head rest and took a deep breath, your heart still pounding.

Leaving that letter felt like taking the first step back to him.

***

Dear Maggie,

Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. I’m desperate to learn about the woman that you’ve become.

Do you still love banana cream pie, and sleeping during a rainstorm? Have you done any traveling over the last eight years? We talked about going to Paris and London together, and Hanoi in Vietnam. Did you ever make it to any of those places? If not, there’s still time.

What do you like to do on a day that you’re not working? For some reason, I picture you having some kind of hobby, like a book club with the other nurses, or volunteering at an animal shelter. I wish I had more hobbies, honestly. But most of the time I can barely drag myself home from work, make dinner, maybe veg out in front of the TV for a bit before going to bed. It’s a lot of work, Mags, and coming home to an empty house makes it a lot less incentivizing to come home at all.

Thank you for writing me back. I didn't expected you to. I read your letter six times back to back until my vision started to blur.

You’re right. You were always right, even when it bothered me to admit it. You have a habit of always being correct and it would be infuriating if it wasn’t also one of the best things about you. You’re a natural leader. Always have been.

I hate that you thought I left with no regard for how you felt. Like it didn’t kill me. Every step I took that night that took me further away from you felt like a knife was twisting itself deeper into my chest.

You’re still the only woman who has ever said she loved me. You’re the only person I’ve said I love you to. I’ve never wanted to be loved by anyone but you.

You told me a long time ago that sometimes people stay. The boy on the receiving end of those words was too afraid to admit that you were offering a lifeline. He thought you were just saying that because it was what you were meant to say in those types of situations. He didn’t realize that you meant it. He didn’t realize that choosing you would change everything.

I took you for granted. I took your love for granted, Maggie. And I’m sorry.

Now I know I promised a letter every day for the foreseeable future, and I’m sorry to have to backtrack on that promise. We just got word that we’re shipping off for a mission tomorrow, so this will be the last letter for a while. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. Could be a week, could be three months. If I get a chance to write, I will, I promise. Don’t worry about me, OK? Not that you would, but if you did just know that we’ll be fine. It’s the job, after all.

I love you, Maggie Brooms. I’m not afraid to say it or shout it or morse code it or buy a light up sign that says it and put it in my front window for the neighborhood to see. Even if one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in five years from now, you wake up and want to call it quits on me, I will still love you. I’m going to love you my entire life, no matter what.

I promise to come home soon. It’s different when I know that you’re there, potentially waiting for me. You make everything so much better.

Love,

Bradley

***

A week went by. And then two. No other letters arrived. You resorted to rereading the ones he had sent over the three weeks between your fight and when he left on the mission.

What kind of Christmas traditions did you have growing up? My parents always let me stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve and I’d get to open one present and sit by the fire and in the morning my mom would make chocolate chip pancakes. I still think about those pancakes every Christmas.

Do you remember Professor Keller in the English department? How he always smelled vaguely of Cheez-Its and there would be little smudges of coffee on the papers he graded and handed back? I saw him a few years ago, when I went back to UVA for a visit. I was doing some Naval recruiting and he spotted me and instantly recognized me. I thought that was so funny because I had to rack my brain for a second to remember his name. And he’s probably had ten thousand students in his classes since we graduated, but he still remembered me. Makes you wonder who is just out thinking of you at any given time.

***

I think I saw you, once, a few years back. At the time I didn’t know you were a nurse. You had scrubs on, and were getting into your car. It was the parking lot of a grocery store. The team had sent me out on a beer run on a Friday afternoon. I saw your hair and part of your face, before you turned and shut the door. It was like every single cell in my body started to hum at once. I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. I thought about running up to you. Part of me was so fucking desperate to see if it was you. But then the rational part of me said there was no way. It couldn’t be that easy to find you again after all these years. But then that stupid darts game. I shouldn’t call it stupid. If I hadn't bet Hangman that he could throw the darts after two shotskis and with a blindfold, he never would have missed. That dart never would have almost taken my eye out, Coyote wouldn’t have tackled Hangman, the three of us never would have ended up in your ER that Tuesday morning. It was fate, Mags.

***

There’s talk of a mission. You haven’t been through this before so I’ll give you an overview. I can’t tell you much. Just when I’m leaving. I won’t know how long I’m gone for, and I can’t tell you where I’m going. All I can tell you is that knowing you’re on the other side waiting for me is going to make this the hardest mission I’ve ever flown. I watched my mother grieve my father for years. I was too young to really understand when it happened. But I know that life isn’t easy. Waiting for someone who may or may not come home.

***

I can’t believe we’ve spent years living in the same twenty square miles without knowing it. If I had known, all this time, how close you were, I never would have been able to stop thinking about it. I would have driven down every street, rang every doorbell, if it meant that there was a chance one day someone would open the door and it would be you.

***

I’ve missed holding you in my arms while you sleep. You’re not a cute sleeper, Mags, sorry to break it to you. Your mouth hangs open a little, and you get this tiny patch of drool that pools in the corner, and your hair is always a mess because you never wear it in a braid or a bun to sleep. But guess what? You’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen when you’re like that. I think I fell more in love with you every time I woke up next to you. You captivated me.

***

What you didn’t realize the first night we met was that I had been watching you for weeks before that night. Not in a creepy, stalker way. We had intro to art history together that semester. I spotted you right away. Shiny brown hair, your easy laugh as you slid into a seat next to Kailey in the second row of the cold auditorium. The way you pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt and hunched over your notebook in deep concentration during the slideshow presentations. Anyway, I had spotted you weeks before you laid your eyes on me that night at Trinity. I watched you make out with Bernie Colemine that gross junior. Watched as he flicked his inexperienced tongue down your throat, saw you almost gag right there into his mouth. So I spilled that full beer down his back. It might have been the only shot I had with you. Despite what you thought, Mags, I was not as much of a player as you made me out to be. From that night on, you were the only girl for me. You showed up to my room and stripped down to your underwear and I swear I almost had a heart attack. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done not to touch you. My hands burned at my sides all night from the deep desire to run my fingers across every inch of your skin. Memorize you. Map you. Worship you. But I didn’t want to scare you away. A part of me has always been terrified of scaring you away. I know you like puzzles, Mags, but sometimes I worry that I’m one problem you just can’t fix.

***

The team wants to see you again. Bob got all pink in the ears when your name was brought up and I have half a mind to tell him that you’re mine. But it wouldn’t be true, would it? I can’t stop you from dating Bob. He’s a good guy. Now if you got within ten feet of Hangman, that’s another story. Anyway, they liked you. Phoenix asked where my friend was the other day. They don’t know about our fight. They don’t really know the whole story. So what do you say, Mags? Come out with us again. I promise, I won’t let you get as drunk as last time.

***

Twenty days after his last letter, you came home to see the corner of a new letter wedged inside the mailbox. You couldn’t pull it out fast enough, bending it in half trying to yank it free from the metal jaws of the letter box, swinging open the front door of your townhouse and tossing your purse haphazardly on the ground, finger already sliding under the seam of the seal.

Dear Maggie,

We made it. I’m writing this letter on the carrier home as we speak, and I’ll drop it off the moment we hit land.

That wasn’t an easy one. They never are, but seems like lately they keep getting worse. Every time I look around at the team we look older. Wearier. It weighs on us.

I missed you. I wrote you a few letters while we were gone, but I never got a chance to ship them off, so I’m sorry about that. I’ll give them to you sometime soon.

Sorry for the short note tonight. I’m exhausted, sweetheart. I wish more than anything that I could come home to you. Wrap my arms around you from behind, breathe in the smell of your hair. Do you still use rosemary and mint shampoo? I used to love that smell.

I miss the way you feel in my arms. I miss the way the mattress would dip as you’d crawl in beside me. I miss the way you press your thumbs into my temples to rub away a headache. I miss the sound of your voice in the morning and the way you sigh when you think I’m being insufferable. I miss the fact that you butter your bread before making a peanut butter sandwich and the way that you insist on driving with the windows rolled down even when it’s cold outside.

I realized on the carrier that I am so fucking lucky to have loved you enough to miss all of these things. You have no idea the hole you left in my chest, Maggie Brooms.

I love you.

Bradley

***

Your fingers hit dial before you could even put the letter down.

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, like he had just woken up. You looked down at the phone screen. It was almost midnight.

“Bradley? It’s me.”

“Mags?” You heard the rustle of sheets, like he was sitting up in bed. “Honey, is everything alright? What’s going on, why are you calling me?”

You rolled your eyes, mostly to yourself. “Friends call, Bradley.”

You had expected him to chuckle at the call back to your first friend date months before. But there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I don’t want to just be friends, Maggie,” Bradley said softly and you felt yourself gripping the phone tightly, your fingers wrapped around the edges. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need. But I want you. I want all of you. I promise I will do my best not to fuck it up this time. But God, Maggie, I want you to come back to me. I really do.”

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” you admitted quietly.

“No?” he asked, shock threaded through the word.

You shook your head. “How soon can you be here?”