#a really good exercise outside my comfort zone

[aneacc]

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 A lil flower Shop .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 

Inspired by jodihippler flower shop miniatures

[tardis--dreams]

After over 3 weeks of unsuccessfully checking several department stores that promised to have one, i Finally managed to find a body shop around here AND it had the banana conditioner i wanted so so badly. Life is good sometimes

[khaire-traveler]

🛡️ Subtle Athena Worship 🗡️

Engage in arts and crafts, especially crocheting, weaving, and pottery

Read books you enjoy; try reading The Odyssey

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Have imagery of spears and shields around

Have a snake or owl stuffed animal

Invest in your schooling; studying, doing homework, working hard

Participate in voting, if you can

Try to think outside the box for solutions to problems

Take care of yourself physically, especially with movement or exercise

Dancing to music, especially music that empowers you

Write stories of your own

Learning self-defense, weapons included or not

Bird-watching and star-gazing

Support humanitarian efforts abroad or locally

Drink calming or meditative tea

Meditate out in the sun or under the full moon

Go outside of your comfort zone; try new things that will ultimately be good for you

Play D&D (yes, really)

Take good care of your body; drink lots of water, eat three meals a day, try to eat well, etc.

Practice restraint and patience, especially with people who annoy the shit out of you

Practice standing up for yourself

Assert your boundaries clearly; learn what your boundaries are

Play with your dog or cat, if you have one, especially activities that get you moving, too

Wear clothes that make you feel confident and comfortable

Prioritize your well-being

Cook with olive oil, if able

Make a list of your personal goals; achieve them one step at a time

Celebrate your accomplishments; acknowledge your strengths

Sharpen your mind; play memory or mentally stimulating games

Take regular breaks from screens; be sure to go outside throughout the day for some fresh air

Spend time with loved ones

Drink soothing beverages; herbal teas, hot chocolate, whatever else there is, etc.

Make a list of your passions and actively pursue them

Learn more about yourself; try new hobbies, express yourself in new ways, pay attention to what brings you joy, etc.

Write down quotes you hear and enjoy

-

May add more later on! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Athena. Hope this is helpful, and take care, y'all! 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[marie-mcd]

Apart from the drunken bookshop scenes in Good Omens S1E1 being very entertaining, these well-loved scenes continue to fascinate me, because I'm seeing someone be persuaded to change their mind without being on exactly the same page.

My observations: they have common ground; Aziraphale isn't too far gone to be reasoned with; Crowley succeeds by meeting him where he is, and by reflecting Aziraphale's own logic back to him.

In conflict resolution IRL, identifying common ground can be a hurdle, but this is easy for them here, and also amusing that their common ground is the whole earth; they love it and deep down don't want it to be "tested to destruction". But Crowley's attempts to persuade him by pointing out all the things Aziraphale would lose personally isn't enough to sway him to help stop Armageddon.

I've observed IRL that someone too far gone to be reasoned with in a given moment tends to be someone so caught up in a strong emotion that their brain seems to completely block the ability to consider someone else's thoughts and feelings outside their own (and/or they'll seek out someone whose opinion confirms their own). I see that Aziraphale is disturbed by the idea of animals suffering when the world ends - which probably extends to humans, given how he cared about Adam and Eve, and that art and theatre comes from humans. He has deep, well-founded fear about disobeying his superiors, but he hasn't lost access to his empathy for others. He's nearly there: "I don't like it any more than you do, but I told you, I can't [disobey]. I'm an angel". "I can't interfere with the Divine Plan."

The really interesting part is when Crowley takes Aziraphale's ideas about disobedience and about the Divine Plan, and manages to get him to see them in a different way: the two seemingly contradictory ideas can actually be consolidated. Since the Plan is ineffable - Aziraphale's own idea reflected back - "You can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the Divine Plan too". Aziraphale doesn't have to completely reconsider his belief system, or change the status quo, or consider uncomfortable ideas related to his identity as an angel, to be persuaded: Crowley meets him where he is, and so he only has to stretch his comfort zone a little bit, rather than take a big leap. Additionally, Crowley prompts Aziraphale to think for himself rather than spell out his idea for influencing the antichrist: "It'd be too bad if someone made sure I failed..." Which I also like to see.

(Also, how great is it that Aziraphale uses this same tactic at the airfield base later?!)

As I write these sorts of posts, I worry that I'm just pointing out really obvious stuff; but I'll go ahead and post this anyway because it's an interesting exercise for me to ponder and pinpoint why exactly I like certain things.

And I love me some pragmatic, productive conflict-resolution and problem-solving in real life; scenes like these get me thinking along those lines.

[nitewrighter]

I realize I'm saying "Step outside your reading comfort zone, step outside your reading comfort zone" over and over again and people might actually be interested in doing that, but might not know where to start, or really where their 'reading comfort zone' ends. Well, the good news is, there's a lot of "book bingos" and other reading challenges on library websites and blogs all over the place that have plenty of prompts for books it might not occur to you to read--I'd say like exercise though, you obviously don't want to immediately force yourself to read something you know is going to make you miserable.

Like if you say, "Well I've never read a biography before, so I grabbed this giant fucking brick on President Warren G. Harding, but it was boring and it sucked. Oh well, I tried. Back to fanfiction." Like, come on, there's no way in hell you were engaging in good faith there. There really is a lot of accessible nonfiction out there, if you're willing to look, and also don't be afraid to ask your local librarian for help. Also even if you're a grown-ass adult, please don't feel ashamed about reading non-fiction adapted for younger readers to ease yourself into it. Podcasts and media communities can also help steer you to nonfiction subjects so that you're springboarding from something you know you're interested in, to something you wouldn't usually read--I got steered to "Frozen In Time: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition" and have added Jean Genet to my To-Read list because of the Terror fandom.

Also short story collections and essay collections are your friends!! You don't have to complete those cover to cover! You can bounce around as you need and it's still different enough content and style for your brain to form new neural pathways! You can give your brain tiger a pumpkin full of meat for enrichment while still being ADHD as hell!

Stepping outside of fictional genre comfort zones can also be a trickier bird, but there are ways to go about it! If you're interested in tackling a classic, there are a lot of substacks which can often come with their own respective communities to help keep you motivated through the drier parts. Like, yeah those communities might not be as big of a phenomenon as Dracula Daily, but it really does help to have buddies to discuss the book as you go along. Like, yeah I'm currently behind in my reading of Moby Dick, but I'm still motivated to keep going because I want to catch up with the rest of the Whale Weekly crowd. There are also a lot of book list communities that group books by their respective tropes and structures and can allow you to ease yourself to new subject matter. Don't be embarrassed to make "short reads/quick reads" a search criteria when browsing books, as well.

Anyways, what I'm saying is, going outside of your reading comfort zone doesn't mean immediately throwing yourself in the deep end, it can be as simple as engaging with an interest you already know you have, in a text format you wouldn't usually work with. Or vice versa!!

[adviceformefromme]

10 ways I became anxiety free.

To overcome anxiety you need to put in the work, this is not some click-your-fingers-and-its-gone shit. You need to return home to yourself and learn to live in alignment with your truth and not what society expects from you. I went from years on years of crippling anxiety and panic attacks to living completely anxiety-free for many years now, here’s what I did....

1 ) I fucking paused. I created a space for myself daily to meditate / journal. I stopped listening to the outside world and started tuning into me. I noticed the voice in my head and all the ways it was kicking me down at every given opportunity. I noticed how I worked a job that was so far from everything I loved and valued in life, I started noticing the men I was choosing and how they would fuel my anxiety by giving me scraps of love which I accepted and tolerated for years. I noticed the ‘friends’ who’s energy I felt off around, I noticed my vices, drinking alcohol even dabbling in drugs and smoking for release. In pausing I really got to see how my life was so far from love, and this distance manifested as anxiety as a signal for me to come back home to myself. 

2) I stopped talking / obsessing over my anxiety. The more I read about it, spoke about it, the more it could live within me. I was feeding it each day the more I focused on it. I stopped giving anxiety my energy. I accepted it was there, and focused on feeling better. 

3) I got help. I found a therapist I trusted and could understand me (it can take some time) and this was a game changer. I did a course of cognitive behavioural therapy for 3 months (which I privately extended to 9 months) and learnt all the ways my childhood wounds had been playing out in my adult life. I would choose men that would validate my belief that I was not worthy, something I believed as a child from my dad. There was a long list of old beliefs that I was playing out in my everyday life triggering my anxiety at every opportunity. 

4) I moved my body, I did regular exercise, dancing, yoga, running, pilates, walking. In order to get that uncomfortable feeling out my stomach, it was crucial the energy in my body was being moved otherwise I was energetically stuck.

5) I learnt how to connect with my inner child, I found out what I needed, where I was neglecting myself, and this was huge for my anxiety relief. I read Susan Anderson for steps on how to do this.

6) I got new friends. I changed my circle, and with this my energy changed. I spent time with women who inspired me, educated me, lifted me up, and this took time. There were periods I had no friends but I knew it was more important to be alone than be around people who were not aligned with me, and my values. 

7) I stopped dating unavailable men, as my self love and worth grew I was no longer interested in men that rejected or treated me like an option. I choose men who treated me as I desired, with respect, care, interest, love and affection. Hot and cold men held no place in my life and this helped shift ALOT of my anxiety as my father wound was a huge part of the anxiety I was feeling on a daily basis. A man ignoring me for 3 days would trigger severe anxiety until I heard back.

9) I choose a career and jobs in alignment with my truth. I said no to jobs not paying me enough, jobs with toxic teams. At interviews I learnt about the culture and asked questions to see if I was a good fit for me. 

10) I poured into my passions and built my confidence, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and proved my limiting beliefs wrong. I travelled alone, I learnt to enjoy my own company, I read books, attended retreats, listened to music that made me feel good, I helped other people, I switched off my phone. 

All of the above was a huge process spanning over 10 years, it required time, energy, determination, heaps of self love and commitment, financial investment (self-funded), and an overwhelming desire to heal the parts of me that my anxiety was attached to. 

[makethemhoesmad]

Sorry this took me a minute to officially get out and so sorry if it’s bad. This is my first time actually releasing my writing for anyone to read other than me. It’s also kinda short because 1) I only worked on it for around a weekish and the latest episode parts of the night 2) I really wanted to get at least the prologue out before the end of the week which I did so yay me! But honestly if you have any tips, critiques or recommendations for the next part I will really appreciate it!! Enjoy lovelys🫶

🪐

(this has also not been proof read or really edited once I officially finish part one I will probably re-do this I have just been busy and wanted to get this done. I’m also not 100% sure about the title so if you have a opinion on that lmk babe)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Take me home

prologue: Beginning of the end

Pairing: paige bueckers x Azzi fudd

Themes: promptly fluff

Warnings: none that i’m aware of!

June 26th 2018

(Paige’s pov)

It was the final week of the rounds for try-outs for team USA when we were split into two teams that we would be on this week. Some of the girls on my team I recognized from the previous try-out days.

There was one girl I didn't recognize, but she was pretty good from what i’ve seen. There wasn't any denying she was going to make the team. As I watched the girl walk over to the water table I had convinced myself to go and talk to her.

“Hey i’m paige” I extend my hand out giving the briefly smaller girl, who’s currently sliding on the jerseys we got during the beginning of try-outs.

"Oh" The girl slightly jumped. "Um sorry hi, Azzi" She smiled reaching her hand out to meet mine.

Her smile immediately lights up the room instantly causing me too return one to the slightly shorter girl. Once our hands meet the feeling of warmth they bring to my normally cold hands, and the instant feeling of comfort she brings me.

"-uh Paige?" Bringing me back from whatever I was a soft, and gentle voice calling out my name.

"Sorry, zoned out for a minute" I responded with a reassuring smile trying not to make it awkward. "But uh, Azzi like Jennifer Azzi?"

"Yeah, actually it is" Her comforting smile now bigger than before she explains while I just listen throwing in my thoughts here and there to keep our conversation afloat. But before I knew it, it had already been fifteen minutes and we were about to start practicing.

"-But uh fun fact! you’re the first person outside of my family to know where I got my name from" The now grinning girl confessed as we were walking to the baseline.

By the time we reached the other side of the court we then started running simple exercises and drills. Which had eventually got tiring enough before coach had finally ended today’s session.

"Okay ladies good practice, remember to get some rest and be prepared for tomorrow we will be splitting up starting tomorrow. And I believe that is all I have for you, you are dismissed" Coach explained for the following day officially ending practice.

Before leaving I caught up to the girl currently walking ahead of me before stopping her. "I think it's cool you know" I looked at the girl in front of me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Your name. I think it's cool that you're named after someone that good" I couldn't help but smile at the girl before walking out of the arena in the hot summer air.

ahh! it’s finally out once again i’m sorry if it didn’t reach any expectations so please please let me know your thoughts and would appreciate your feedback! bye babe🫶

ong rhis is amazing

[nerdieforpedro]

Day Two - Butterflies with Marcus Pike and Female Reader

Word Count: 648

Warnings: one curse and Marcus Pike in plaid

Notes: I remember painting a butterfly in an art class years ago (like 10+ maybe). It was fun and then the professor went into the symbolism behind them in art, which was pretty cool Reminded me of that - hope and transformations which can happen in therapy or outside of it.

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenges

It was an exercise in capturing beauty. That’s what the therapist told you at least. You’ve never excelled at drawing, painting or any type of art that has to do with manipulating materials. Give you a pen, piece of paper and you’ll make some magic happen on a page, but not with watercolors. Your therapist who you’ve been seeing for the last few months encouraged you to try something new – out of your comfort zone, but not too crazy. They asked you to pick something and bring in what you had created, no matter what appearance it took on. Your art isn’t great, but you and your therapist talk about the colors, what it means to you to have made it. You told them that you were happy to have physically made something and didn’t expect to use such bright colors with the reds, oranges and yellows. Usually, you’re more in the cool color family. It feels good and you have a pep in your step once you leave the office. So much of a pep that you nearly drop your artwork in the hallway while you’re on your way out.

A tall man in a plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and jeans catches it. You might have started at him a bit too hard to have noted what he was wearing head to toe. He asks if you’re alright and smiles, why did he do that? His mere presence is already making your brain malfunction. 

“Christ on a fucking cracker…” It’s said loud enough that you see him blink. It would be wonderful if you could fade away right now. “I-I am so…it was a rough appointment.” A lie would work right now. Blame it on therapy, you’re in a great mood you just need a logical reason for staring and cursing at this very handsome nice man. 

“Ah, I’m sorry you’re having a rough day. Did you do the art exercise too? Oh wait..” His smile went to a frown, “you don’t have to answer that. Your day is bad enough without reliving it right?” He scratches his arm, he might be nervous too, though he likely thinks you’re an unhinged woman. If he does, what’s to lose now?

“I did. I don’t mind sharing. It was my favorite part. It’s always the debriefing and deconstruction that takes the fun out of things.” Turning your piece around, you proudly showed it off. Two orange butterflies are on a blade of grass near a daisy (the only flower you can draw and still tell what it is). The upper one had more red in it and the lower one had more yellow. It’s simple, but the first thing you’ve painted since high school. He appeared to be giving it careful consideration and it made you giggle. It’s not like a museum piece or even talent at a high school or college art show. It’s from your one-time painting class. He clapped his hands and you jumped; it was louder than you expected. 

“Sorry about that. It’s beautiful. Do you know why the therapists keep asking us to paint butterflies?” It appeared he may have an answer that you therapist didn’t cover, and even if he didn’t, you’re listening because he called your art beautiful. No matter if he’s just being nice or not, it was sweet. You shook your head. 

“My therapist said it was a good exercise for trying new things. I haven’t really been too open to doing so.”

He thinks for a moment. You were expecting the answer right away. Maybe he’s building tension. “My name’s Marcus. Maybe we should discuss it over some lunch? It might take a little while. Do you have any plans?” None that can’t be done another day. 

“No, where were you thinking of eating lunch?” Looks like the butterfly painting is leading to new experiences indeed.

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader/Flight attendant Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.7K Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, But no specific identifiers, Description of Anxiety, Panic Attack, Mild PTSD, Fear of Flying, Pet Names, PWP, One-Shot, Semi-public Sex, You Have to Be Quiet, Bathroom Sex, Mile High Club, Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms

A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting away from me! But it was fun, and a nice exercise to work on outside of my series. And even with not being able to write at all for a good few days of it, two and half weeks for over 4.5k+ words (from scratch!) is definitely a record for me!

I have to give a shout-out to the many thots that come from the Andy Discord, and @tarrenterror for this one specifically. 😉 I hope you enjoy this little drabble that ended up turning into way more than that! 💕

Title is from "Learn To Fly" by the Foo Fighters

AO3 Link

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Yesterday’s flight from Lisbon to Johannesburg had been a long and turbulent one with a very rough landing, much rougher than you’re used to even after three years as a flight attendant. 

The storms had kept you circling in the sky waiting for a break that refused to come, and after a long-haul flight the fuel was getting low so the pilot didn’t have a choice but to land. The plane hadn’t ended up going off of the rain-slicked runway but it was damned close, and you've been on edge ever since.

Even the tedious interview with the SACA Authority wasn't annoying enough to distract you for long, and neither last night’s patchy sleep, nor the mini-bar Red Bull are helping the persistent shake in your hands, but you have a fifteen hour flight to Corfu leaving today so you get yourself moving, hoping that a shower and some food will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You’re not able to eat very much either, but mercifully last night’s storms have cleared and takeoff into a cloudless blue sky is smooth and uneventful, although your stomach is still acting like the toast you had managed to eat was an affront to your body.

You've never been airsick and you'd really prefer not to break your streak, not least because of the razzing you’ll get if you do, so you’re grateful when the plane finally levels off so that you can find your equilibrium again, and once the “Seatbelt” sign goes dark you're grateful for the distraction as you start rolling the beverage cart down the aisle.

Working on autopilot you don’t realize how completely you’ve zoned out until fingers are closing over yours as you hand a passenger his drink, barely catching his question.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Nudged out of your daze you finally look down at the man you’re serving.

He’s wearing dark jeans with heavy boots and a black button-up, the collar open to expose black ink across his chest and collarbones, sleeves rolled up to expose more tattoos on his forearms - or forearm, rather. Your brain tries to parse why his one arm looks not-quite-right until you realize it’s a prosthesis, although it's far more realistic than any you've ever seen apart from the distinct seams running through it. 

When you finally meet his you're quickly drawn in by bright blue eyes contrasted with tanned skin and dark salt and pepper curls, and while his hair is a bit shaggy you can faintly see another tattoo arcing beneath it.

It feels like your brain is on a delay, caught off guard by a combination of the inquiry and his striking features, and after several moments of your confused stare his eyes flick to where your hands are still connected. Suddenly you’re aware that inside the calm pressure of his fingers, yours are trembling, and it clicks that he must have seen the liquid shaking in the glass when you handed it to him.

"Oh. I'm ok,” You finally respond, giving your head a quick shake. “There was just a lot of turbulence on my flight coming in yesterday, and then we almost went off the runway, so..I guess I’m still a bit shaky, that's all.” 

You’re surprised that you answer him honestly but something about the way that he focuses on you, his eyes sharply observant, has you dropping the professional guard that you normally keep airtight with passengers. 

“Ah, that was you,” he says, finally releasing your hand and taking the proffered glass. “I heard about that. And you’re still back on a plane, today? That’s impressive.” 

His words are earnest as he tips his drink at you, and you find yourself fighting the flush that warms your skin at his praise.

“Well, it is my job," you reply, trying to keep your shrug nonchalant. "But thank you for your concern, sir.” Trying to brush off the brief flash in his eyes you work to settle your polite customer service mask back into place.

“Well, it sounds like you can handle it. But if you need a distraction,” the man takes a sip of his drink, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial timbre, “I might be able to help with that.” 

Meeting his eyes with a start you definitely see a dark glint in them now, the casual certainty in his tone that making it difficult to mistake his meaning.

It’s not the first time you’ve been propositioned - in fact it’s pretty par for the course in this world - and normally your reply would be quick and trite, saccharin words shutting down the standard attempts at flirting with a captive audience that you’re used to dealing with. But the teasing lilt of his words and the way the colour of his eyes deepens as they flick over your body sends an unexpected thrum of heat between your legs.

You're still trying to work out a reply when an annoyed voice cuts through the tension.

“Uh, miss? Maybe someone else could get a drink over here, today?"

“Of course. I’ll be right there,” you reply quickly, plastering an apologetic smile on your face, unsure whether you feel relieved or frustrated by the interruption. 

Relieved, you tell yourself. You're relieved. 

You manage not to look at the man again while you finish serving the rest of the food and drinks, but on your way back up the aisle when you finally allow yourself a glance as you pass his seat he calmly meets your eyes, making no attempt to hide that he was watching you.

You thought that you were going to make it the rest of the flight without incident, but in the early morning dark just a few hours before landing the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and even though it was barely a shake you had jolted awake instantly.

Now, while the rest of the plane slumbers on you’re tucked in the alcove back by the washrooms with your eyes squeezed shut, jacket and scarf discarded at your feet as your heart does its best to escape through your chest wall. Even though the plane is perfectly smooth now your nerves have returned in full force, fingers tingling as you try to will the cold, hollow feeling in your gut away from spreading into your limbs.

You feel a presence enter your personal space at the same time that you see the shadow fall over you through closed eyelids, and the voice you hear is low and calm, sliding its way into your consciousness between panicked breaths.

“Take a deep breath, love.”

Forcing your eyes open, you see the tattooed passenger from earlier standing in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s- I’ve never been like this before on a flight,” you feel compelled to explain as tears of frustration prick at your eyes. “I just can’t catch my-” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down so you don't disturb the sleeping passengers.

He glances over his shoulder briefly and then back at you, pausing for a moment as he seems to consider something, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s quickly guiding you into an unoccupied washroom, following closely and locking the door behind you.

Taking your hands in his, he moves them so that your palms are pressed flat against his chest, and when he speaks his words are steady but firm.

“Now, take a deep breath for me."

As he draws a slow, deep breath himself it dawns on you that he wants you to mimic him, so on his next inhale you match it by taking a shaky gulp of air into your lungs, and when he holds his breath at the top of it for a few seconds you do the same. Letting your eyelids slip closed you find that you’re able to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the feeling of warm fabric over firm muscle, on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this but steadily your nerves begin to settle, every breath calmer than the last. 

As your senses start to slide back into place you become aware of calloused palms covering yours, of your breath mixing in the shared space between you, and when you open your eyes again you’re greeted by the sight of both of your hands framing his chest beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“How are you feeling now?” The soft gravel of his voice draws your attention upward, appraising eyes meeting yours.

“Better. I…thank you. Really.” You reply truthfully, feeling better than you have in the past forty-eight hours.

Logically you know that you should end this now, that you need to pull away and return to the rest of the plane to prepare for the approaching dawn, but instead you feel frozen in place beneath his gaze.

“Good,” he says, making no a move to pull away, either.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline still working its way out of your system, or the way that his hands sliding up your forearms makes you shiver, or the heady musk of sweat and cologne mixing with the warmth of your bodies in the close space, but when you do move it’s not to pull away.  Instead you tighten your fists in the fabric of his shirt and when you tug he immediately responds, crowding closer until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

Keeping his eyes on yours his hands drop to your waist before sliding slowly around the curve of your hips, and when he tugs you against him you gasp when you feel the stiffening curve of his erection pressing into your abdomen.

He leans in close enough that his lips brush the crest of your ear, and though his breath is hot on your skin his words raise goosebumps along your neck.

“Would you like your distraction now?”

You can hear the smile curling around the sweet tease of his words, and you hum an affirmation, unable to help the roll your hips against his arousal.

“What was that?” 

There’s a sharper edge to his voice when he prompts you again.

“Yes,” you say more firmly, startled by how he’s managed to drop your guard and stoke your need so quickly, the warm ache between your thighs swelling from his proximity and a few simple words.

Pulling back, a hand moves to cup your cheek as you look at him through hooded eyes, a thumb sliding under your chin to tilt your face up and then his mouth is closing over yours, full lips surprisingly soft as they drag across yours in a teasing slide, and just when you feel the faint flick of his tongue and you part your lips to deepen the kiss, he pulls away. 

For a long moment time seems to hang suspended in the sharp blue of his eyes, and then as if drawn by a magnet it’s you that’s moving and your mouth is on his again, your own tongue flicking against the seam of his lips and you sigh when he parts them. 

The kiss quickly deepens as you run your hands over the broad muscle of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his tongue swirls against yours, licking deeper and growling into your mouth when your hips start to roll against him more urgently. It’s not long before your touch grows frantic, both of you seeking more, fingers blindly grasping at fabric and tugging at buttons until his shirt hangs open, forgoing yours entirely as he tugs it up over your head before pulling you back against him, a hand sliding beneath your bra to cup your breast as he kisses you breathless in a growing fervor of tongues and teeth, 

When you try to lift your leg but your skirt stops you he tugs at the hem, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your middle and when you hitch your leg around his waist he grabs your hips in his hands, your cunt throbbing as he grinds you against the rough denim covering the now very prominent ridge of his cock.

Then suddenly his tattooed hand is finding its way between your bodies and sliding down to find the juncture of your legs, your mouth dropping open with a helpless moan when his fingers press the damp fabric against your sex.

“How are you feeling now, love?” He pants against your lips, his teasing words now rough with lust “Dis-distracted.” You huff a breathless laugh.

"That’s good,” he hums. “But you’re going to have to be quieter than that. You wouldn’t want to wake the other passengers, now, would you?”

His fingers press more firmly now, the friction of the slick fabric against your clit has you biting back a moan as you buck into his touch.

Taking a steadying breath you glance at the door before flicking your eyes back to his and shaking your head, No. 

With a pleased look his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as his fingers part you, sliding through your already damp folds and down to your entrance and you bite your lip as just the tip of his finger presses into you, gathering your arousal before sliding back up to nudge against your clit.

Then he does it again, fingers only swirling against the sensitive bud for a few seconds before dipping back down to find more of your slick, tracing and re-tracing the path along your sex until you’re trembling, and maybe it’s the altitude but you’re startled by how quickly you feel your orgasm building just from his teasing touch.

“Oh my god, I-” You whimper.

“What, love?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his words, but he must take pity on your desperation because his focus is only on your clit now, pressing firmly and quickly picking up on your needy rhythm as you rock against his hand, a shaky whisper squeaking from your throat.

“So close, oh my god oh-”

One of your hands flies up to your mouth to stifle the moans you can no longer hold back, faintly aware of rough words whispered into the space where you hover between anticipation and ecstasy, Let go, just like that. And then all of your thoughts are wiped away, eyes squeezing shut as your body tenses in bliss and you come hard, swells of pleasure surging out from the point where his fingers firmly coax your writhing hips to take what you need. 

His hand stays pressed against you even as the waves start to soften, feeling the aftershocks that continue to ripple through your cunt as your body relaxes and you drift back to awareness, and only when you go limp, your hand dropping from your mouth with a sigh does he release your thigh and remove his hand from between your legs. 

Though you’re still unfocused and trying to catch your breath, when his hands move to his belt your eyes follow, watching as he unbuckles it and then lowers the zipper, pushing his underwear and jeans down together until his cock bobs free, thick and glossy with precum at the tip. You lick your lips at the sight and he smirks at your greedy stare, stroking himself lazily a few times, smearing you along his length with the hand that was just between your legs.

Then without warning he grabs your waist, turning and pushing you forward and you have to quickly brace yourself against the wall as rough hands push your panties down around your thighs, and you hear a hitch in his breathing behind you as he grips your ass, slowly massaging and spreading you open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright love?” 

It’s a question that’s not really a question at all, but his rumbled words have you instinctively arching yourself into his hands and when you look back over your shoulder you go breathless, the blue of his eyes ocean deep and rough at the edges as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex. 

“Can see how wet you are,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself as he finds your soaked entrance again, and you barely manage to hold back a moan when he slowly slides a thick finger into your tight heat.

“Yes, you certainly seemed to like that, didn’t you?” 

His words are maddening but you’re unable to help the shuddering gasp when he adds a second finger, continuing to pump deep into you until his hand is shining with you.

“Shhh, listen," he hushes, and you bite your lip as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the soft wet sounds of the slide and suck of them every time they sink into you obscene in the small space. “Already so messy, but I want to know how much more of a mess you’ll make when I’m fucking you on my cock.” 

You whine at the loss as he withdraws his fingers from you, using them again to slick himself with your arousal before pressing forward, and you tremble with anticipation when you feel the thick head slide through your folds to line up with your entrance.

The grip of his prosthetic hand on your hip is strong as he holds you in place, the thought fighting it’s way through the lust that it’s more than just what it seems - and that you should probably be concerned by that - but you can’t seem to find the will to care when his cock starts slowly sinking into you. 

Your eyelids flutter and you have no control over the gritted moan that escapes from your throat as he stretches you open, and he quickly moves his other hand to cover your mouth.

“I’d love nothing more than to make you cry out til you’re hoarse,” he growls between clenched teeth. “To find out what pretty sounds you make when you’re desperate. But right now I need you to be good for me and stay quiet. Can you do that, love?”

You’re not actually sure if you can, but the only clear thought in your mind is that you need him to keep going, so you nod against the resistance of his hand. 

Feeling your agreement he releases your mouth and moves both hands back to your hips, continuing the slow slide of his cock into you. Just barely managing to tamp down the sounds he’s drawing from your throat you once again focus on taking deep, shaky breaths as your fingers grasp at nothing on the wall, and even though the aching stretch of him is almost too much all you can think is that you want more.

Laying your palms flat you brace yourself against the wall and push back, rocking your hips to encourage him deeper, but he’s thick and even with your effort there's not enough leverage in this position to take him as deep as you want to.

However that doesn’t seem to stop him from letting you try.

"You can do better than that, can't you?” His words are an infuriating tease. “Don't you want to take all of it?"

You know he can sense how frustrated you’re getting as you continue to move, but he's still keeping himself just far enough back that you struggle to take him deeper. 

“Don’t you want to make me?” You grit back, startled by the low heat of your words.

“Careful, love. I’m not sure that you want me to ‘make you’.” 

His words are black as pitch as fingers dig roughly into the flesh of your hips, your cunt fluttering around his cock at the warning in his voice.

“Ohhh, but look at that.” he sighs, suddenly. ”Aren’t you a sight.”

Your movements falter, confusion interrupting your frustration until a hand grips your chin and turns your head toward the far wall so that your eyes fall on your disheveled reflections in the small mirror there, gasping as you take in the image of yourself, glassy-eyed and panting and still desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

When you meet his eyes through the mirror a slow grin spreads across his lips, and then his hand moves to cover your mouth again.

Your brows knit in confusion since you thought that you had managed to keep mostly quiet, but you only have a second to wonder what he's doing when without warning he thrusts hard, pulling you roughly back onto his cock at the same time and stifling your cry of surprise behind his hand as he finally buries himself all the way to the hilt.

"I know, shhh, it's alright, love,” he pants against your cheek. “Wanted me to make you, yeah?”

A muffled moan is your only response as he uses the hand that’s over your mouth to keep your head pressed back against his shoulder, then just barely pulling out of you he grips your hip tight with his prosthetic hand and thrusts back into you.

“Christ you feel so fucking good.” he grits out, rutting into you harder, and the fact that you can tell he's fighting to keep his own groans under control makes the bloom of pleasure in your cunt deepen as he fills you again and again, unable to hold back the whining pant in your throat at every jolt of his hips against your ass.

You try to brace your hands more firmly against the wall but your elbows buckle as he leans into you, thrusting hard, and you hold yourself on your forearms instead, hearing a delicious grunt in your ear every time he bottoms out. The muscles of your cunt begin to tighten, the angle and the deep friction of his cock grinding against the sensitive spot behind your clit sending white hot sparks beneath your eyelids, and you feel like if you could just get your fingers on your clit you’d be there.

You manage to steady yourself on one arm as the other hand reaches desperately down between your legs, the brush of your fingers over your clit rough and unsteady as he continues to fuck you but it doesn’t matter, it only takes a few circling swipes and every sense is tightening its focus on his cock and your fingers.

“Are you going to come for me again?” His growled whisper stutters with the rhythm of his thrusts.

But even if his hand wasn’t over your mouth  you couldn’t have responded, your only thought the breathless pressure of your climax rising higher and higher, blinding you to anything else as your vision goes grey at the edges and your body spasms around and against him, a desperate moan shuddering through your chest as your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Not letting up he continues to fuck you through it, every stroke of his cock achingly deep, but it’s not long before you feel his rhythm start to falter and with a final few thrusts he stills, the tight grip of his fingers digging into your jaw until you feel the throb of his cock as he comes, shaking against you and biting back a guttural sound as he spends himself deep in your cunt. The last waves of your climax have you still clenching around him, and while the movement of his hips slows he keeps himself buried in you as deep as possible so that you can do nothing but take every last drop.

You gasp to catch your breath when he releases your mouth and finally collapses against you. Pressing you into the wall he pants into your hair, the weight of him almost helping to keep you upright while your body is still shaky and unsteady.

After a few long moments like this you eventually feel him shift and pull back, both of you biting back one last moan as he slowly slides out of you, finding yourself aching at the loss.

“You go out first,” you say, still slightly breathless. “I'm..I need a second to clean up.”

“No, you don’t.” 

His tone is casual, and you don't really understand. 

“Um, after that? Yeah, I do.” You laugh a little, assuming that he’s joking.

“No. You don't.” He repeats firmly and turns to face you, a glint of gold flashing through his grin as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Because that wasn’t your distraction.”

“It’s...what?” You stammer, still trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Your distraction,” he continues, stepping back into your space “will be feeling my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the flight.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Maybe it’ll soak through your panties. Start dripping down your legs as you walk around serving coffee, and you’ll have to act like I didn’t fill your needy little cunt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pant. “What...who the hell are you?” It’s all you manage to get out as your mind swirls at his words.

He doesn’t answer your question, but when his expression darkens you can almost hear the words he doesn’t say: Maybe it’s best you don’t know, love.

“You should get dressed.” His eyes flick pointedly to where your panties are still down around your thighs, your skin flushing with embarrassed heat as he patiently watches you finally absorb his meaning, but something in his smirk has a swell of defiance surging through you, and perhaps there’s another kind of heat there as well.

Doing your best to fix a neutral expression on your face you keep your eyes on his as you slowly pull the garment back up before tugging your skirt down from where it’s bunched around your waist. Finally you pull your shirt back on, straightening and smoothing everything back into place as best you can before quickly fixing your hair.

Once you’ve tucked your flyaways behind your ears you meet his eyes again with an expectant arch of your brow.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly grin and gestures towards the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was right, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. 

There was more turbulence just before landing prep but you don’t feel the spike of adrenaline that you had before, as if the circuit of anxiety had been interrupted. Instead all you can think about is the slick warmth growing between your thighs with every step you take, and every time you glance at him he’s watching you, a persistent thrum of heat low in your belly at the knowing smile that curls the corner of his lips

About two months later, on the same long-haul flight from Johannesburg to Corfu, you’ve started walking the drink cart down the aisle when you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm leaning on the armrest. 

It could be anyone, you reason. Lots of people have tattoos.

You pretend that you’re not eager to reach the seat, but as you approach your breath quickens when the distinct arc of ink running up his neck and beneath a fresh undercut comes into view.

“Hello, love,” he greets you with a familiar grin. 

Heat slides through your core when you hear the voice that’s haunted your dreams for weeks, and you try to keep your words steady as you repeat the practiced refrain.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” 

“I have something for you, actually,” he replies, reaching a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a folded slip of paper, holding it up for you to take. 

After a beat you pluck it from between his fingers, opening it to see an address that you recognize as a hotel not far from the airport. And a name.

Ulysses Klaue.

Somehow unsurprised that he would have a name like that, you meet his eyes as you tuck the paper into the pocket of your jacket.

“Your drink order, then..Mr. Klaue?”

“Whiskey, please. And call me Ulysses, love.”

You bite back a smile as you move to serve the next passenger, wondering if you’ll have to wait the full fifteen hour flight to feel his hand between your legs again.

But judging by the glint in his eyes when you look back at him, you having a feeling that you won’t.

A/N: As always, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed reader's smutty little adventure in the sky. 😉

[timevir]

2024 - A New Timevir

This post contains some words about the loss of death.

Writing is a very fun hobby that I've done for as long as I can remember. It probably started as written exercises and fanfiction during childhood. It transformed into intricate worldbuilding as I was introduced to the hobby of tabletop roleplaying. In recent years, I've written interactive fiction, scripts, novels and sourcebooks.

But one constant caveat is that I almost never shared my work. It was an enjoyable process to convert thoughts and feelings into substantative manifestations in the physical realm. Yet despite many coworkers, friends and family members asking about them, I'd always give the same answer of "it's personal and not worth sharing".

I thought about why I was doing this, and noticed I have been living the life of an observer. I enjoy the detail of the world around me, and paying attention to things that others would consider irrelevant. I would even deliberately put myself out of my comfort zone if it meant putting myself in a location that I could see something new. If there was an interesting protest in the city I was living in, if there was a strange, dangerous event occurring in the vicinity or if there was an unusual experience or location to be discovered, I'd happily waltz in and act like that I was meant to be there. During the riskier parts of youth, it even meant a bit of trespassing, but I stopped doing that after a few dangerous close calls.

What I was not doing as an observer was manifesting that in the world. Many of my projects would be built, some even to completion, and then they'd sit in a box, frozen and inaccessible through their obscurity. Nothing I made ever felt like it was deserved observation compared to the rich tapestry of the world around me. Even in the rare moments I found pride in something, it would soon feel obsolete compared to some next logical alternative.

A lot of my life has been spent on "the grind". Work had seemingly crept its way into absorbing the free energy I had in an addictive loop. At first, it was merely a way of ensuring survival and trying to get out of school debt. It took the majority of my late 20s to get out of school debt, a feat I was able to just reach before my 30th birthday. A few more months, and I had a decent emergency fund and a "real" disposable income, assuming I wasn't going to try and buy a house (which to be honest, isn't an exciting proposition at the moment. Real estate trends caused by high demand have made housing costs extortionate, but that's a discussion for another time).

Work is of course necessary for human survival. Indeed, if we took a snapshot of lives lead across history, nearly everyone has had to contribute in some way to their communities for them to function well. The meaning of work has shifted through the various periods of history significantly, but its goals have remained the same. What is implictly understood, even if not necessarily well recorded, is that there was a whole tapestry of living that existed outside of these actions that could mean vastly more to the people that lived around them. While much of these ideas have persisted through the passing of cultural works, very rarely have we got a good snapshot of the life of any specific individual, even if they potentially had amazing tales to tell.

Identity has slipped through my fingers somewhat accidentally. It had felt much easier to sacrifice every bit of effort to accumulate knowledge, resources and a position of comfort than it took to stand for anything. At first I may have resisted the ideas of exaggerating an accomplishment, or cutting on the quality of a product to create it faster, but those values became too easy to discard when reward was on the table. But if anyone were to ask me about the morals of the situation from the outside, I'd remark a half-mealed "it depends" which really meant nothing beyond the acknowledgement strong values had merit and self-interest could get in the way.

It seemed like the intelligent thing to do because the things that were remembered across time were great accomplishments, long standing monuments and the best and worst of events moulding humanity's timeline. It was easy to mistake what was memorialized for what was important in life. It then followed that if memorialization was an ultimate goal, that the best way to do so was to accomplish some great feat was to set yourself up with as much power as could be wielded, a good proxy for which was money, before putting all that strength into ventures in the hope that something would hit and a legend would be born.

It is possible I could have remained trapped in that vicious craving for objectives if it wasn't for a life shattering event at the end of 2023. It was at this time that my younger brother died unexpectedly in his mid twenties. A whole life was potentially ahead of him, but it was cut short at almost no notice. My relatively normal family crumbled into chaos and it was shattered.

In the emotional fallout, I looked again at what I had done. Of course I did not regret unburdening myself from debt, or succeeding at a career. But in all the push for an abstract notion of success and legend, I had lost an invaluable voice that could never be replicated. My brother had lived his life to his fullest in his time on Earth. He had moved country, he had found love and friendship, and he had ideas of a future. Seeing these wither into tears, memories, and finally a grave, made me realise in the end that a memorial would not make up for the moments that would never be had again.

My new year's resolution for 2024 is to try to reestablish a voice. To truly live in the world and not merely plan a story for my death. To make sure that my friendships and bonds remain strong and not let them disappear due to the inconvenience of maintenance. To stand for something and not just exist in the pursuit of convenience.

One way I am going to test myself on this goal is to try to make sure I write something down each week. Something public. It won't necessarily be something profound, but at least it may prevent me from slipping back into forgetting about the things that really matter. Perhaps it is better to exist in the world than merely drift through it.

[princessgriffin1998]

Specimen FX-23: Project Snow Fox // REBIRTH

Hello everyone!

I know I’ve been trying to edit my previous instalment to this series so that I can proudly present: REBIRTH. Part two of the Specimen FX-23 story.

I won’t lie, it’s been really challenging personally to write and have the bravery to post this, but I’m going to continue to push myself outside my comfort zone. I have quite a bit of the story completed, so I am going to do my best to see my story fully realized. I want to give a huge thanks to @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for always being so sweet to me and encouraging me to write, and I want to thank you for clicking this post and checking out my fun, zany lil world I’ve created for myself. I hope you enjoy the story and please leave your feedback in the comments!

This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader story with an AFAB reader and the use of nicknames (no Y/N).

Find the full story here!

Chapter Summary: After a few days with Shuri at the Los Angeles Wakandan Outreach Centre, Captain Rogers has arrived to bring you to the Avengers Compound.

Word count: 5.5k

RECOVERY / Next Chapter

Chapter One: Good-bye

“Good morning Soldat.” a man's voice greets you as you pant. The last of the electric current fizzled out of your system as your eyes finally unscrewed themselves and tried to focus on the technician in front of you.

“Ready to comply.” you respond breathlessly.

“We have a different training exercise for you today. New combatants. Get equipped and be in the training room in 10 minutes.” with that your technician stalked out of the room, the door bolting behind him. The clamps around your biceps and ankles launched open with a hiss and you shakily stood. You knew better than to be late as you made your way over to the metal lab table that held your equipment for the day.

You showed no emotion as you took in the suit in front of you. It wasn’t your normal lab clothing. You reached out a cautious hand to test the dark coloured fabric. It felt strong despite how smoothly the fabric flowed. You quickly stripped and changed into the suit, uncaring of the leering gaze from the scientists behind you. They only spoke English anyways and you hadn’t been able to learn enough to understand what they said about you while you undressed. You quickly slipped on the black socks and knee high boots left out for you. You secured your hair down the nape of your neck and away from your face as you glanced at the last item on the table. It was completely foreign to you. Slowly with your index figure, you traced over the smooth material of the item. You picked it up and turned to the scientists behind you.

“What do I do with this?” you called out in Russian.

You expected the eye roll from the man with the glasses; Doctor Nagel. Something deep in your gut told you that you shouldn’t let them know how much you could understand. Even though they rolled their eyes or got irritated with you, you never used any of the English words you had been able to piece together over… well, your whole life here.

“Silly girl. Can’t you see the ear hooks?” Nagel motioned his hands up to the sides of his head as if that was supposed to clear things up for you. You blinked at him till he threw his hands up and stalked over to you.

“Give that to me. Hands at your sides.” he commanded and you handed the item to him then pinned your wrists to the outsides of your thighs.

Nagel was your creator. You had no choice but to listen when he spoke to you. You’d tried to resist before, but found you were physically incapable of denying his wishes. No matter how disgusting they were. Nagel reached out and slipped the object around your mouth and nose, hooking the loops over your ears and securing what you assumed to be some kind of fabric fastening around the back of your head and along the nape of your neck. You could feel where it connected to the neckline of your suit. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your startling reflection in the lab window. Suited in all black up to your nose, your eyes glinting over the top of your new muzzle.

“Perfect. I think she’s ready for the Widows boys! Get to the training room now.” Nagel sneered and you raised your chin as best you could from under the muzzle before taking quick strides towards the training door.

When you entered the room, you were surprised to see another girl, but upon another glance around the room you realized there were several women, all similarly outfitted to you, minus the guard over the face. At the end of the gym, there were new men. They weren’t dressed in the standard lab clothing that your handlers wore. They wore suits with pressed pants. An older gentleman stood between several assumed guards, thick black glasses perched on his wide nose. He had silver hair that was slicked back and his left hand twirled a lit cigar. A ring flashed on his pinky.

“Soldat! Center of the ring.” your technician snapped.

You moved smoothly to stand opposite the young woman in the centre of the ring. She had warm, deep toned skin and piercing brown eyes. Her hair, a texture you’d not seen on any of the regular technicians that came to your lab, was twisting tightly in rows starting at her forehead and tracing down the back of her head to her neck. She glared at you and you clenched your jaw. She was beautiful. Your only human experience thus far had been the cruel men of your lab. Faintly, you wondered if she’d be allowed to live after whatever training was coming next.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the next phase of human evolution!” Nagel announced from behind you. You pressed your palms flat against your thighs as Nagel made his way around you, tossing an arm around your shoulder as he spoke to the new men.

“Today, we would like to show you the fruits of your money and our labour. Gentlemen I’d like to introduce you to Specimen 23 of Project Snow Fox.”

You startle awake, the dream leaving you in a cold sweat as you try to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your ears, a sure fire sign of a migraine on its way. Subconsciously you rub the back of your neck as you lay back down on your pillow, trying to breathe deeply and taking in the bumpy white ceiling above you.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, it hits you what day it is and you shoot upright in your hotel bed a second time.

Today is the day.

Any remaining traces of your nightmare vanish as you throw yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to begin your morning routine. Quickly brushing your teeth and securing your hair back and out of your face, you whip off your sleeping clothes and quickly change into an all black ensemble of cropped yoga pants, an athletic tank top with a sports bra underneath, and a black zip up. You make your bed and quickly go through your duffel bag again, everything perfectly folded and packed from when you’d refolded and packed it for the third time last night.

Today is the day.

Smiling, you slip on some black boots and grab a pair of aviator sunglasses. You put on a plain black ball cap, tucking your hair through the gap above the adjustment strap. You grab your backpack and adjust the straps slightly so that it sits comfortable on your back, giggling to yourself about the shape. Shuri had thought it was hilarious, grabbing the tiny backpack that looked like Cap’s suit. The two of you had snickered the entire time you were paying.

You quickly made sure you had all your important items inside the backpack; your music device from Shuri with your headphones, your journals and a pencil case of different pencils and fancy pens, a metal water bottle, a set of kimoyo beads Shuri had gifted you before your trip, and half a strip of photos from a photo booth. Shuri had taken you to a mall to get some American clothing and the two of you had stopped on a whim at a booth in the mall. Shuri had the top half of the strip and you had the bottom; two panels of you and Shuri grinning from ear to ear, almost spilling your smoothies on each other while laughing.

With a deep inhale, you take in one last glance at the hotel room that had been your home for the last week, before grabbing your room key and making your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

‘Today is the day.’

You and Shuri had been staying in a hotel down the road from the Wakandan Outreach Centre for six days. You haven’t seen Bucky or the rest of the team in nine.

After the fight in the lab you had been devastated. It had taken almost a full 24 hours for Shuri to be able to move you from your spot bundled up on the couch. All you’d had the energy for was quietly crying while Shuri rotated different movies for you. She put on all your favourites and brought you snacks that you couldn’t stomach and water you could barely sip.

You knew that Bucky might be upset with you for wanting to leave Wakanda, given that he’d been hiding the offer from you. He’d clearly not wanted you to move to America yet, and even though yesterday you had been hurting you had hoped that he still cared about you despite being worried about Hydra’s potential control. Obviously he just couldn’t trust Hydra, and you knew with his background that you would probably always be a threat to his family.

Maybe this was your fault too. You’d evidently read too far into his kindness. You’d been too unstable when you were first freed. Maybe he’d gotten close to you in order to tame you. Aside from Shuri, you didn’t have a metric for how much was too close to someone. He could’ve been a regular level of attentive and you’d misconstrued it.

Eventually after a day and a half you decided that your pity party needed to end. Shuri had already rescheduled some plans for the two of you because you couldn’t get off your couch. You still had Shuri, and even though you would be moving away from her she was still in your corner and so were Sam and Steve. You decided that you truly meant what you’d said in the lab. You didn’t need Bucky’s approval. You wanted to take the next step to better yourself and if he didn’t like it that was on him. Shuri had been surprised to see you up and about the next morning after two days of being almost comatose, but there you stood. Fresh from the shower, hair pulled back and secured away from your face, zipping up the athletic jacket you’d decided would be comfortable to travel in.

Oh and travel you did.

You didn’t think you’d ever tire of staring at the ocean. Shuri had let you sit in the cockpit of the jet with Ayo while she flew. The sun hitting the water had been beautiful, but the sun setting over the vast ocean as you made your way to America had been magnificent. Overwhelming in the best way possible. Shuri teased you mercilessly as you gazed out over the water for hours on end. After touching down in LA, Shuri decided it might be fun to stay in a hotel to try and help you integrate with regular society. It had been absolutely terrifying. Your nerves constantly telling you everyone who walked near you was a potential threat. You’d clenched your fists so hard in an effort to calm yourself your nails had broken skin. Shuri had gotten you your own room so that you could work on being by yourself, and that first night you spent in America you’d dragged the couch in your room in front of the door in addition to locking and dead bolting it.

Shuri had teased you about that too after making sure you were ok sleeping on your own.

You’d spent most of the week working in the Outreach Center with Shuri. It was a very similar routine to what you’d already established in Wakanda. During the day you had spent your time helping out around the Center, moving heavy things or just being an extra set of hands for the team and their work there. The Wakandan Outreach Center’s main focus was making sure that people of colour in the surrounding areas could have a place to go and feel supported. Most of the work in the Center was community based. Making sure kids could afford school supplies and lunches or have the resources they needed to complete projects and explore the advanced technology Wakanda had to offer. Shuri’s personal focus was encouraging girls to pursue science. The Outreach Center offered multiple different scholarships geared towards encouraging minorities to pursue fields that for centuries had been unattainable. One of your favourite memories of the week had been watching Shuri sign a cheque for a young woman to go to medical school. She and her mother, who’d previously been working two jobs to support them, sobbed tears of joy and you’d been honoured to see such a special moment take place. You’d added their teary smiles to your journal the minute you’d had some spare time.

Your hours in the Outreach Centre had not only been a fantastic way to work your jet lag, but also to watch people. Having your growth accelerated meant that you’d skipped on a lot of your developmental stages, adolescence, puberty. Here, you could just sit and watch all different kinds of people walk through the doors with their own mannerisms, subconscious habits, body language, and facial expressions. You’d learned how to read the different looks people give each other, the furrowed brow of confusion and how it differed from an angry brow. Most of your people-studies had come from Shuri and Bucky, so you’d always felt comfortable understanding what they meant when they spoke to you. With new people you’d learned just how much tone and inflection changed the meaning of a phrase. It started with trying to pitch your voice up when you made dry jokes because the people here hadn’t gotten your sense of humour at first. Slouching in your seat because you found people were freaked out by your robotic posture. So many things you learned while watching coworkers, friends, and families interact in the Centre. As you studied humanity more and more you confirmed to yourself that coming to America had been what you needed. You never could’ve learned all this from within your lab.

In the evenings when Shuri was finished with her team, the two of you went out and explored the city. Los Angeles was so different to anything you’d experienced in Wakanda. The insane hustle and bustle of the streets seemingly never ended. You and Shuri had explored malls together, you tightly holding her hand while the two of you browsed American fashion. The two of you had an absolute blast and Shuri promised the next time she came to visit you’d go to a theme park together. You’d been a little too nervous to make the trek this trip and your nerves were usually shot by the end of the day. Shuri had taken you to several beautiful parks, and the two of you had even taken a day trip to the beach.

You’d been a little too nervous to actually go into the water, but you’d plopped yourself on the shore and let the waves lap at your toes for hours. Shuri thought it was hilarious that you were so easily entertained, but staring out at the endless sea and sky was soothing. It made you feel completely peaceful and when you’d gotten back to your hotel room you’d passed out almost immediately. The jet lag probably wasn’t helping but with how many hours a night you slept normally you wondered if it even mattered.

After closing the door to your hotel room you made your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

The plan was to go to the Outreach Centre, where Captain Rogers would be parked with the Quinjet in stealth mode. You and Shuri had wanted to keep your arrival in America quiet. No need to alert Ross to another super soldier on the compound if they didn’t need to right away. You had listened in on Shuri’s conference call with the Captain and Stark, and by their tone you could tell Stark got a sick satisfaction out of hiding something from Thaddeus Ross.

“Good morning Foxy!” Shuri called as you approached her and the concierge desk. “How did you sleep? Good? Great! We’ve got about an hour for breakfast before we head to the Centre.” She grinned, taking both your key cards and sliding them to the receptionist.

Holding out her bag, you carried your luggage together in one hand as Shuri took your other to guide on the familiar walk to the Outreach Centre. An hour for breakfast really meant fifty-five minutes of goofing off in the IHOP across the street before realising you had five minutes to be on the jet.

The two of you were seated in your favourite corner booth next to the window that let you watch all the busy people making their way through the city. Shuri chattered excitedly about her latest tech project for the Centre while you counter all the exits in the building (One to the patio, a fire exit by the bathroom, one back door through the kitchen and the main entrance by the hostess podium), despite knowing them by heart after a week of breakfasts here. Shuri had wanted to come here one morning after seeing an ad on the TV. She’d decided that she’d never been so she’d treat herself and drug you along for some chocolate chip pancakes. After that she’d gotten hooked on everything the franchise had to offer and you’d eaten more waffles than you cared to admit.

The IHOP staff, to their credit, were absolutely lovely everytime you came in. They’d quickly accepted that you would always want a corner table where you could view the door, no matter how empty the restaurant was. They’d gotten used to your strange accent, a combination of Russian and somehow African while you tried to order your food in the morning. After the first few raised brows, you’d immediately begun correcting your accent to whichever variation of English was being spoken to you. Your American accent was fairly advanced compared to the beginning of the week when you’d arrived, but some words were always spoken with a bit of East African wrapped around them. The staff had also gotten accustomed to you ordering at least two meals, occasionally a third if you were having a particularly active day.

This corner was a particularly advantageous spot because you could see every entrance to the building, not to mention you could watch the breeze change to show the arrival of a stealth craft in the parking lot across the street.

“-it’s really something special Snow, I can’t wait for you to see it! Hey, are you even listening to me?” Shuri asked, poking your knuckles with her coffee spoon and startling you out of your surveillance.

You jumped slightly, finally tearing your gaze away from the window.

“My apologies, Shuri. I think I am a little bit distracted this morning.” you answered sheepishly, heat blooming across your face.

Shuri just snickered.

“Don’t worry. I know better than to take offence. If you’re worried about travelling, don’t be. Steve’s actually a great pilot when he’s not sacrificing himself for the greater good. And Stark’s A.I isn’t half bad. You’ll get to New Jersey in no time. Plus once you’re there you’ll be begging to leave Jersey and come home to me so everything will work out.” Shuri joked. You laughed despite not quite understanding why “Jersey” would be somewhere you’d desperately want to leave.

“I guess… I am worried they will not like me. I threw Natasha into a wall, and she accepted my apology but the rest of the team does not know me at all. What if they hate me?” You whispered, fidgeting with the handle of your mug.

Shuri just smiled and reached out a hand, clasping your fingers between her own.

“Listen Snow Fox, it’s ok to be scared of things. You’ve been through so much change these last few months. It’s natural that you’re nervous, but I just want you to remember all that you’ve accomplished so far. You’ve improved your communication, your memory, even your fighting. You’re doing so well and growing so much. I’m very proud of you and even if they haven’t said it, I know the team is too.” You could hear the message behind her words; Bucky was proud of you.

It’s not that you didn’t want to believe her, but in the six days you’d been in America you hadn’t heard from any of the team personally aside from Steve. Shuri’s music device also had a communication link, so he’d messaged you briefly when you’d arrived in LA, happy that you’d gotten there safely. Aside from a few brief conversations about your room and if you had any food allergies, you’d barely heard from him.

Bucky however had not reached out since your fight.

“Thanks Shuri. It is nice to be reminded sometimes, of where I started and where I am now. I’m just nervous they won’t like me. I know I am… odd to say the least.” Shuri just laughed.

“Well who on their team isn’t? You’ve got two 100 year old super idiots, a former KGB spy, a guy who cosplays Robin Hood for a living, modern-day Icarus, and a billionaire funding all their crazy. Not to mention a witch and an android. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.” Shuri grinned. As you smiled back and squeezed her hand, your ears picked up a large change in the wind outside.

“Ah, I take it the Quinjet has arrived on top of the Centre. Alright let’s pay up and see you off then!” Shuri smiled, flagging down your server so she could settle the bill.

Much to your server’s chagrin, Shuri pressed a $100 note in his palm as a tip with a litany of gratitude towards him and the team for being so kind to the both of you this week. She then stuffed another five of them in the tip jar on your way out. When you were royalty, unlimited money was something fun to play with, you supposed.

As you made your way across the street, you clutched the straps of your duffle bag so hard your knuckles turned white.

‘You can do this. You can do this. Steve is very friendly. You are going to be fine.’ you chanted in your head over and over, as if the harder you thought about it the easier it would be to believe.

You forced a smile on your face and waved at the workers in the Center as you made your way up to the roof. Most of the Wakandans and volunteers were used to your strange behaviour so you hoped your expression looked cheerful. You dropped Shuri’s bag off at her office, adjusting your bags and checking their contents for the 3rd time that morning before making your way to the roof.

Before Shuri opened the door, you both put your sunglasses on and she grabbed your free hand.

“Ready?” she grinned.

You did your best to plaster a smile on your face and the reflection in her glasses was almost believable.

“Ready.” you nodded, before Shuri threw the door open.

Watching the Quinjet come out of stealth mode was a sight you didn’t think would ever get old. The wind whipped around you briefly as the ramp descended, and a casually dressed Steve Rogers came to greet you.

“Good morning Snow Fox!” he called, a grin across his face.

You could feel the tension draining out of your shoulders as he made his way over to greet you.

“Good morning Captain!” You chirped happily.

Steve just rolled his eyes.

“Y’know I said you can still call me Steve right? We’re friends. Friends don’t speak so formally.” he teased, heat blooming across your face.

“Yes.. I-I forget sometimes.” you stammered, wincing at how unsure you sounded.

Steve however did not let that deter him.

“Well that’s fine. We’ve got a whole flight for you to remember. Good morning Princess.” Steve said with a nod to Shuri.

Shuri just snorted in response.

“What are we not friends? I already call you Steve, you can call me Shuri.” she said as the two shook hands.

Steve just smiled.

“Well, the Quinjet is pretty fast. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so for us to get to the compound. I can take your bag while you say goodbye if you’d like?” Steve offered, a hand extended.

You nodded and passed your duffle along to him before turning to face your best friend. You weren’t sure what to say but luckily Shuri always had something to say and beat you to it.

“Well, you have my contact in your device and kimoyo beads. You can call me at any time. I’ll be about nine hours ahead of you, but if you need me I’ll answer at any time you know that. If you hate it you can call me and I’ll come get you, no questions asked ok? And I know you haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve already notified Helen Cho, the compound's chief doctor so she can give you something if you can’t sleep. Remember to update me on your training! I want to know exactly how bad ass my best friend is getting!” Shuri rambled, her hands wringing nervously in front of her stomach.

You could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you threw your arms around her. Shuri inhaled sharply before wrapping her arms around your torso as tightly as she could.

“Thank you for everything my friend.” you started in Xhosa, knowing how much it meant to Shuri that you’d tried to learn as much of her native tongue as possible. “I promise to call often. I’ll send you so many pictures and videos of my training you will tire of me I promise. I want you to know that I never would’ve gotten to this point if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m well aware.” Shuri teased, her words thick with emotion.

“Well you deserve to hear it. You deserve to hear that you are the most amazing best friend anyone could ask for, and if there is anything that I am grateful for in my existence, it is that we had the chance to meet and become friends. You have shown me kindness that I will never be able to repay, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to share that with the world. You gave me purpose, my friend. I swear to make your efforts worthwhile.” you grinned, pulling away from her you both giggled at the tears in each others eyes.

“Call me as soon as you’re settled in your room! I’m assuming they have a tour or orientation planned for you. So call me as soon as you can!” Shuri grinned, swiping at the moisture under her eyes.

You let out a watery laugh as you nodded.

“I will. See you soon, friend.” you smiled.

With one final hug you made your way over to where Steve was watching the two of you from the ramp. A soft smile graced his face as you turned to wave a Shuri one last time before boarding the jet.

“So how has your week in LA been?” Steve asked, trying to make small talk as the two of you made your way over to the cockpit.

“It has been… very busy.” you admitted, as you took off your backpack and settled into the seat behind Steve’s right side.

“Well that’s good! Lots of new experiences I’d ima- what is that?” he asked, pointing a finger at your bag.

You flushed under his sudden attention.

“Um.. .Shuri suggested I get a backpack and thought this one was funny…” you trailed off in embarrassment.

Steve just threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s great! Sam is gonna be so jealous.” He grinned and you beamed back.

“I would imagine he’ll be quite scandalised that there was no Falcon merchandise in the store.” you quipped, causing Steve to laugh even harder as he re-engaged stealth mode and began the launch sequence.

“Oh don’t even start. He’s such a drama queen sometimes.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

You smiled as Steve launched into an anecdote about Sam wanting to create merchandise for ‘Red Wing’, his robot AI that helped them on missions. Slowly the nerves set in as you thought about the rest of the team.

“Steve?” you started, the man in question humming in acknowledgement.

“What is the rest of the team like? I’ve only met Sam, Natasha, Clint, and… Well what are the others like?” You asked, unable to ask Steve about the one member of the team you were truly curious about.

“Well, Wanda isn’t that far off from you in age. I think you’re biologically around the same. Vision… Vision actually reminds me a lot of you. He’s an android so while he’s very intelligent, we all know there are some “human” things that escape him sometimes. He’s very polite though and head over heels for Wanda. The two of them are actually very sweet together. Burce, our team's previous resident doctor, is actually off the grid right now. We haven’t seen or heard from him in about two years. I’m sure you’ve seen the files on the Hulk?” Steve turned to ask and you nodded.

“Right, well Bruce used to have a really hard time controlling him. After Ultron, he took off. We hope that he’s doing better and that he’ll return someday… but after that there’s Tony Stark, Iron Man.” you winced.

“Are you sure it’ll be ok with him for me to come live with you all?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve just shook his head.

“You don’t have to worry about Tony. I made sure he saw your progress reports with Shuri before you even left Wakanda. Tony is very critical, but he’s not as much of an asshole as he makes himself out to be. He knows that you were successfully deprogrammed by Shuri and that you’re making a lot of progress, but not as much as you’d like. If he does anything that makes you really uncomfortable, if anyone on the team does, I want you to know you can come tell me. Not just as your Captain, but as your friend. We’re all here for you Snow Fox.” Steve turned to smile warmly at you and you offered a small smile back.

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we touch down at the compound. Any other questions before we land?” Steve asked.

You just shook your head.

“No, I am alright. I am mostly just nervous. I… I just really want to make a good impression I guess.” you bit out, picking at the skin around your nails since Shuri had worked so painstakingly last night to paint them to perfection for your first day with the Avengers.

Steve just smiled and reached a hand behind himself to pat your knee.

“Look, I promise that everyone will be thrilled to meet you. Sam’s been compiling movies for us to watch, Nat and Wanda are just happy there’s going to be another girl around the compound, and Tony might be a hard ass but I know once he meets you he’s gonna love you.”

You took in a deep breath, rubbing your knee where you could still feel the warmth from Steve’s hand.

“And Bucky?” you asked nervously. You hadn’t had the courage to bring him up until now.

Steve inhaled sharply, taking a moment to consider his next words carefully.

“Bucky is… complicated. I know you guys had a fight before we left. He wouldn’t tell me what about, but he’s requested some solo missions to hunt down a few Hydra stragglers so he’s not actually home at the compound right now. Do you.. If you want I mean- do you wanna talk about it at all?” Steve asked, his hand coming up to awkwardly scratch at his neck.

You huffed and smiled to yourself.

“Not at all, but thank you for offering.”

“Look I know it isn’t my place, but he really does care. Bucky has always been a “Mother Hen” if you will, he’s always been a protector. He had me, and a baby sister back before the war, and I’m sure he told you all the trouble we got ourselves into back then. He’s always been the man to protect his family, even if he maybe says some dumb stuff sometimes. I don’t know the details of your fight and I won’t push it if it makes you uncomfortable, but I do know that Bucky cares about you more than I’ve seen him care about something in a long time and I hope that when he gets back the two of you can work things out.” Steve turned again, offering you a hesitant smile.

You did your best to return it as you looked out the window of the jet.

“So, what kind of music have you been listening to this week?” Steve asked lightly and you sighed, grateful for the change in subject.

Steve reached a cord over to you and you beamed, recognizing the correct input to connect to your music device. Steve caught your smile and beamed right back as you went through your recently played songs.

“Well, Shuri and I have been listening to a new artist this week, his name is Stevie Wonder.”

[kindheart525]

How do Red Cedar, Minted Glacier and the children of Obbi, Rainier and Polly cope with the death of their lovers/parents?

Btw, I love how much thought goes into this interesting and fun AU!

Thank you so much!! I’ve been having a ton of fun with this AU; it really lets me go outside of my usual comfort zone in tone and characterization and I’m really loving the exercise.

Red Cedar’s whole family has a pretty long history with the Apples, with her father’s friendship with Bright Mac, her mother’s friendship with Applejack, her sister’s relationship with one of the (surviving) Apple cousins, and her own relationship with Rainier. So, after a number of their loved ones get taken from them by this horrible evil, it’s no question that the two families would join forces. Cedar is treated by the Apples like one of their own just as much as her own parents love her, so she has a lot of support. Which she’ll need since she was most likely pregnant with at least one of her and Rainier’s children when he died (not sure which one but there aren’t 14 of them in this au). She’s absolutely devastated without Rainier, but she hardly has to parent alone with the whole family helping her.

Minted Glacier and Cherry Berry Sherbet would get a very large inheritance from Polly no question, but of course no amount of money can fill the hole he left with his absence. Mint would become very paranoid knowing his husband was murdered by such a powerful evil, and he would probably become an extremely private individual in an effort to protect himself and CheBe even though that evil is gone. But he would also want to do some good with all the money that he’s been left with. In the spirit of Polly’s philanthropy career but in a way that is much more concretely helpful, he would donate much of his fortune to help the families of all the others that were killed, like he would appreciate being done for him if he had any financial need. Of course he keeps enough for himself and CheBe (and his sister and parents too) to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, but the vast majority of that money is donated to a selfless cause.

As I get to Obsidian, I should explain that the timeline of the horror AU is a little different from the timeline of the original Auraverse. In the OG universe, Obbi and Yngvlid don’t get together until Obbi’s son Volcanic Jasper is about 12-13 years old, but there’s no way Iolite would wait that long to start killing. So, Yng and Obbi get together much earlier in Jasper’s life (which works because they knew each other for much longer anyway). Also, I like to think Iolite spent some time isolating herself as the evil gradually took over her mind, giving Crash enough time to at least get Obbi pregnant even if he doesn’t get much time with his son after that. After both Crash and Obbi are dead, Yngvlid sends the young and orphaned Jasper to live with his Uncle Mountain Peak to keep him safe on the off chance that there’s still any lurking evil watching her. Since Mounty is permanently single, she believes he has the lowest risk of attracting any of Iolite’s wrath, if she did have any power to resurrect Sombra-style.

[prsk-krow]

(Kanade x Reader) You accidentally walk in on Kanade attempting to exercise in order to train her body so she can do more stuff with you.

*Bonus points if she’s following a 90’s workout video. You know, with the overly encouraging trainers.

{Interrupting Kanade's 'workout'!}

Somehow, the image of Kanade actually doing one of those videos for more than 10 mins straight without pausing it seems far-fetched to me... Is that too mean?? Caw.

Lately, the two of you had been going out at least twice a week, which was a huge improvement for the little shut-in! You could tell how much effort she was putting in to try and step outside of her comfort zone, and you couldn't be more proud!

However, Kanade's lack of physical stamina worried you... Thanks to it, outside dates had to be short and sweet, and whenever one ended, you both would go back to her house and she would go back to being her usual self! You couldn't reprimand her, it wasn't her fault! But that doesn't mean that it could continue being this way!

You kept texting Kanade about how to get her to start taking care of her body more! At first, she tried to avoid the conversations, as always whenever you tried to convince her to make good habits, but with the weeks passing, she too realized the problem, and started discussing it with you! It was a great help, and now you really needed a face to face discussion!

Accidentally forgetting to send a message about you coming over, you would head towards her home and enter! (Kanade had given you a copy of her key so that she didn't have to stand up and open the door for you each time...) However, Kanade's usual music couldn't be heard from her room... How strange. You moved closer, and slowly opened the door...

Kanade panicked, and quickly turned off whatever she was watching, but the way her room was rearranged, and now recognizing the different music that you heard, it all made sense. You couldn't help but chuckle, especially at seeing her intensely flushed face, with her frail attempts to cover it with her hands!

A few minutes had to pass with you telling her that it was fine, that you didn't mind and that you felt proud for her shame to subside, and for her to stare into your eyes again.

"I-I... I felt really guilty... Because you seemed to enjoy our... d-dates so much. But every time, they had to be cut short, thanks to my lack of energy... I didn't know where to start though... And even now, I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do..."

Poor girl, she was so sheltered and oblivious to almost anything that had to do with music... You realized that this might be a little harder than you expected... However, that wouldn't stop you from helping her get her life back together!

So, now it was time for a legit workout session! Well, as legit as the softest of soft could be...

That shut-in little bean deserves the world and no one can convince me otherwise. Caw.

[leonisdumbasallhell]

How do you write like that?? Your writing is so good, it's insane! (Also do you have tips for writing better?? /gen)

hajkshjkasdhj ahhhhh thank you!!! I try very hard to make my writing interesting lol. As for tips on writing better, my best advice is really just to read more? Like legit, I just started reading more and also reading weirder stuff. I've been reading a lot of indie horror short stories and books recently, and there's some wild shit people do with language. I also recomend consuming stuff outside your comfort zone. So like if you read a lot of fanfic, try reading some published works, if you read a lot of romance, try reading some horror. I think pushing your own boundaries is really good for expanding your writing. (don't hurt yourself, obvs, but if you feel a little uncomfortable, you're probably doing something right. Sometimes when I write, my goal is specifically to push my own boundaries and make myself uncomfortable)

Also! when I say read, I don't just mean consuming the narrative (tho that's important to learning how narratives work) I also mean paying attention to the structure of the prose. How are the words tied together? How are they used? How is the author expressing their meaning? I think reading poetry can also help with that, because Poetry is about the interplay between sound and meaning, where the emphasis is often put more on the way the words sound, and less so on the meaning. Prose is more about meaning, but there's a lot of overlap and intermingling between prose and poetry, and that's where I tend to write. When I read, I pay attention to how things sound and how context changes meanings. I also??? Love off beat and batshit similes and metaphors?? The House on Mango Street has some just. Wild similes that you read and go. Huh. Yeah. That doesn't make sense but it so does. and I love that shit.

My next tip is to just like. Write more. And to push yourself to explore your writing. Do writing exercises, write poetry, write descriptions of spaces you exist in (I love doing environmental description and doing still lives in writing is super helpful for that) I think also just like. Let yourself play. Have fun. Writing, especially fanfiction, is a game. We're playing. Don't take it too seriously and embrace the weird and things that don't work. Sometiems shit that shouldn't work Does, and thats the best thing.

if y'all got writing questions I would love to answer, cause I love talking abt writing ajkhsdhjkajkd

[ragnarlothcat]

*comes out from behind the bushes* hello :) 9 and 30 for the questions for fic writers?

Hi!!! Nice to meet you 🥰 (ask game)

9. How do you find new fic to read?

I check the obikin tag on ao3 at least a couple times a week and if anything catches my eye I open the tab to read it later if I'm too busy at the time. I'm also subscribed to some authors so I get notified when they post which is great. But recently I've started looking at other people's bookmarks for recs. I think the hardest fics to find are one-shots by authors who haven't written much/anything else. Other than combing the tag or searching for specific tropes/kinks it's really hard to stumble across a great one-shot from a couple years ago. I totally respect people keeping their bookmarks private but I do love it when they're public because I've found some great older stuff that way and am now trying to return the favour for anyone searching my bookmarks.

And sometimes people just show up in my inbox with recs and I love that too. People should feel free to continue doing that and you can recommend your own fics even because honestly how else does one advertise?

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

My weird merman fic Till Human Voices Wake Us was definitely outside my comfort zone in that it is short and not necessarily a happy ending. I think the shortness was a fun exercise because I struggle with focus in my fics and am always trying to do too many things at once but in a fic under 3000 words you really do have to stick with one theme. I'm trying to bring that energy over to my other writing with mixed success (my current wip is about to cross 10k and it's supposed to be a smutty one-shot) but I think it's a good lesson to keep in mind. Also it was a good exercise in finding things to cut.

[crowtrobotx]

Man, I know you shouldn’t do this. But I was staring with increasing bitterness at the kudos/hits on Chrysalis and sinking further and further into the whole “what even is the point” mindset I’m so prone to. Probably this was triggered by having come to expect a handful of kudos with each new chapter and this time I didn’t get… any.

I think Bri is probably the only person who knows how personal this fic is to me and how much of myself I’ve poured into it. And I don’t really want to divulge what that means to everyone - maybe one day - but just rest assured this fic isn’t just the manifestation of an irrational love of a video game character (which it is, of course) but it’s… somewhat healing for me. And a gift to myself. And it took a lot, and I mean A LOT, for me to even put it out there.

I’m not saying everyone needs to shower me with praise and affection at all times, or that I think I’m uniquely incredible at what I do, or that I need validation to keep going - I am much more motivated by spite anyway lol. And I for sure don’t want to minimize the folks who have been devotedly commenting on every chapter, have texted me outside of here/AO3 to talk about it, have made FAN ART (which is crazy!!!!), have reblogged every chapter and sent me asks. I appreciate it so so so much and it means more to me than I could ever verbalize.

But like, damn. Sometimes the sadness has hands and sometimes it’s the absence of folks you thought would be there that’s all you can see, y’know?

And then I decided to look at the other Heisenberg/OC fics, and the ones that are purely platonic, and basically anything that isn’t 2nd person w/smut or part of a popular canon x canon ship. I looked at ones that came out right around the game’s release, ones that came out last week.

And like, damn. Chrysalis has a staggering amount of engagement in comparison, especially when you consider I published it two years late. I didn’t have an AO3 account at all until fucking February 2023. And that makes me feel sort of good, but now I’m just mad again lmao. You should not have to jump into things at peak popularity or have an established following or include popular pairings/tropes to have your work get noticed. I mean, logically, I know this is just how media and art works to an extent - and I’m not saying people who do write/create in the popular fandoms for popular ships are doing something wrong - but it really shows how unwilling folks are to step outside their comfort zones and read things that they think they’re not interested in or won’t like.

There are platonic, x oc, rarepair etc fics that are so stunningly beautiful that it feels criminal for them to only have a handful of commenters and kudos. And honestly the people writing these are doing so with an insane amount of passion because you HAVE to in order to keep finding the strength to publish that next chapter when you know you’re explicitly going against what people insist they want. Again, this extends to more traditional art forms too - how many fucking brilliant books and paintings are out there gathering dust because the creator didn’t have the right connections or they didn’t make something that had mass appeal?

I always try to do the “what advice would I give to someone in my position” exercise with stuff like this. And of course I would reference the reality that if you have ONE person who is cheering you on, it’s a whole complex person you’ve made happy and that’s a miracle in and of itself. And some folks don’t WANT to be noticed - they are much happier with small circles and good for them! But also - I don’t think people are wrong when they start feeling crummy from seeing their work get steamrolled or comparatively ignored.

Idk. Idk where I’m going with this except to say I really wish people would expand their fic libraries (and their media/art consumption in general) to include more than just whatever the current hyperfixation is because it gives them serotonin. Take a chance on something different, within reason. (I know someone will try to respond with OH SO YOU’RE SAYING I SHOULD TRIGGER MYSELF or something like good god, no.)

There are some truly awesome popular works and creators out there. Please don’t interpret this as me being some bitter small platform blog ranting because I’m not being elected prom queen. All I’m doing is thinking out loud and sorting through my own spaghetti brain. I think I’m gonna spend part of this weekend sorting fics with the least engagement/popularity first and leaving some comments on them.

It’s a brave and beautiful thing to make and then share art, no matter the form it takes. People deserve to be reminded of that. Frequently.