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sarcasticfina · 3 years

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Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

#fic writer tag game #long post

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

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The Wages of Sin

Before I found tumblr, I seriously believed I was the only person on Earth whose pulse went up when Samoa Joe appeared. He just broadcasts pure dominant energy and power. I miss seeing him in the ring but I’m glad he’s still on my tv on a (mostly) weekly basis.

Pairing: Samoa Joe x reader

Word count: 3,732

Content advisory: BDSM smut

It was all you could do not to roll your eyes at his expression when you came in the door. It was always the same with men: they called to have a computer technician come over and when a woman showed up, they looked at you like there had been some mistake. Some would even be so gauche as to ask if you were qualified to do this sort of work. This guy wasn’t that bad but when he saw you, his eyes swept up and down over your body, lingering on your breasts longer than he should have before he waved you inside with nothing more than a grunt.

“The computer’s in the office,” he informed you. “First door on the left back there. Off the kitchen. It’s been slowing down for a while and now it won’t even start up.”

“Ok. Other than slowing down, have there been any other problems you’ve noticed, Mr…”

“Joe,” he grunts. “Joe is fine. And yeah, there have been a bunch of programs crashing.”

“Well, Joe, why don’t we have a look and see what the problem is?”

You head in the direction that he’s indicated and enter a neatly organized office space. There’s a desk in one corner, but the room is dominated by a large section coach flanked by a couple of odd looking benches. It’s strange, because there’s no television in the room, no books, nothing that would indicate this was a place where one would sit and relax. You shrug it off. Maybe he likes to take a nap after he’s done working. Maybe this is where he takes women to seduce them.

Immediately, you try to push that image from your mind. You hate to admit it, even to yourself, but when he gave you that once-over, you’d felt a shiver run through your whole body. He was massive and while at first glance he’d appeared fat, you quickly saw that he was just powerfully built. As he stood behind you and watched what you working, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, pushing them up and revealing forearms like iron girders, the kind of arms you could imagine holding you down with ease, choking you, forcing you to do whatever he wanted.

You try to shake those thoughts out of your head and focus on the task at hand. You boot up his computer in safe mode and, once you’re able to get a look around, it’s clear that the problem is a large number of files that have taken up so much space that the computer barely has any available memory to launch or run anything. On top of that, there are multiple malware programs that are deviously working away. You’ll have to work on those right away in order to get the computer stable enough for you to see the files and try to clear out some space.

He stands behind you as you start to untangle the electronic knots, his breath heavy and incredibly distracting.

“This is gonna take me a while,” you tell him.

“Well I’ll leave you to it then.” His tone is friendly but there’s a dark undertone to it, like he can see inside your mind and know that he’s having an effect on you.

Once he’s gone, you settle down and focus on the task at hand. He pokes his head in a couple of times but leaves you alone otherwise. It’s just as well because what he’s got is a real mess and it takes a lot of work to identify and then scrub the malware. Normally, you could run a program to deal with the majority of the work but his computer is so unstable that it can’t run anything, meaning that you have to do everything manually.

Thirteen programs. It takes two and a half hours but you’re finally able to remove all traces of the thirteen programs that have contaminated his hard drive. The early winter light is already starting to fade and now you have to start isolating files. Protocol is that you identify duplicates and separate them onto a second drive without ever looking but everyone takes a peek to see what secrets a client has. Nine times out of ten it’s porn, usually varying flavors of vanilla. It’s never happened to you personally, but a couple of the people you work with have found photos or videos of kids, something that immediately gets reported to the cops. (Peeking at a client’s files is unethical but not illegal, meaning that what the technician sees is fair game.)

When you see that the files are almost all videos, you figure you pretty much know what you’re in for. The nature of the videos, though, is more than you bargained for. This is hardcore stuff, all women getting flogged and bound and taken roughly in every hole as they scream in pain and ecstasy at the same time. There are dozens if not hundreds like this and mixed in among them are videos of Joe himself, proudly displaying his naked body and a thick cock that you can imagine would be rough to take even under normal circumstances.

Watching all this, you feel your breathing grow faster and that familiar wetness in your core soaking your panties within minutes. The fact is that you’ve desperately wanted a man who’d take you like this, who’d use you and brutalize you, but you’d never found one. You’d eventually had to dump your last boyfriend because the sex was so boring you found yourself repulsed by it. You’ve watched plenty of videos like these at home, but knowing you were only a couple of rooms away from a man who clearly indulged in these activities a lot makes you squirm in your seat, trying to get some friction against the seam of your jeans to relieve a bit of the pressure.

Your eyes flicker towards the benches you’d noticed when you came in and now you know what their purpose is. You open another file, Joe again with a woman tied up and bent nearly double, his hand wound around her pony tale as he pounds mercilessly into her.

Looking once again at the benches, you imagine him strapping you to one and whipping you, making you beg for him.

The woman in the video is screaming non-stop about how good he feels, how she deserves what she’s getting, welcoming every vile slur he hurls at her.

You’re so caught up in what you’re seeing and in what you’re imagining that you don’t notice that the sound on this video is a fair bit higher than in the others, and are caught totally off-guard when you hear the voice behind you.

“See something you like?” he drawls.

Right away, you feel not just your face but your whole upper body grow hot with humiliation. It’s one thing for you to be fantasizing but this is you getting caught invading a customer’s privacy. Even if it’s understood that everybody does it, you’ll be lucky to keep your job if and when he complains.

“Not really my scene,” you lie. “But I don’t judge. I just need to sort through stuff to free up some space. I’m going to install an external drive and move your videos there. It’s an extra charge but it’s not too much. You can call the office to find out the exact amount if you want.”

Joe gives a noncommittal sound and walks away without another glance. Your cheeks are still burning an hour later when you’ve dutifully moved the files onto the external drive, careful not to open a single one, even though you’re dying of curiosity. Trembling, you pack up your stuff and prepare to make a shame-faced exit. You’re wondering if you should just apologize to him, maybe say that you opened one of the files by accident and just started poking around, not quite believing what you were seeing. You’re unable to decide if that would be better than saying nothing and trying to pretend that nothing had happened. He’s standing in front of the door with an unfriendly look on his face.

“Well,” you begin unsteadily, “you haven’t lost any files. There wasn’t any permanent damage, so other than moving some stuff to an external drive, everything will be exactly the way it was, but it’ll run a lot faster.”

He folds his arms and looks down his nose at you without speaking. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what to say next under the weight of his stare.

“There were a bunch of malware programs I had to remove. That was what was causing most of the problem. There are certain sites that tend to… have… lots of those things. Anyway, I installed newer antiviral software that should block them.”

You sound completely lost and you are. You feel like, rather than registering a complaint with your employer, Joe is preparing to kill you and eat you for violating his privacy. In the interest of getting out before you’re made into a main course, you opt to stop speaking and to leave the subject of your intrusion out of the conversation.

As you reach for the doorknob, though, Joe presses his arm against the door and his scowl deepens.

“You lied to me,” he seethes.

“Excuse me?”

“Before. You were lying when you said you weren’t interested in those videos. I can always tell.”

“Oh,” you murmur, “about that. Look, I’m really sorry that I was going through your-”

“Yeah, that’s not what we’re talking about little girl.”

“It isn’t?” You feel yourself shrinking back from him and he leans closer as you do, until your back is pressed into the doorframe.

“No,” he purrs. “We’re talking about you and how you were turned on by what you saw. We’re talking about how your panties are probably still soaked because you were so excited.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you fight to think of something to say. His broad chest is just inches from you, heat radiating from him and clouding your thoughts even more.

“I have to go,” is what you’re eventually able to croak.

“Is that so?” he hums. “Well I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna go get into something more comfortable. If you want to go, you go. I won’t stop you. But if you want to find out what I can do to you, what I can make you feel, then you get back in the office and wait for me.”

He steps back and heads up the stairs without another syllable, leaving you with a decision to make. There are assuredly better ways for you to find a man to dominate you. But you’ve seen what this man can do and you’ve felt the power and confidence roll off him, leaving you quivering inside and out. You take a deep breath and head back down to his office.

He makes you wait. It’s a good fifteen or twenty minutes before he reappears wearing nothing but boxers, a towel over his shoulders and an arrogant expression that says he never had any doubt you’d be here.

“Eyes down.” It’s an order, you know, even though he speaks as quietly as ever, and you immediately comply.

You’re able to see him toss the towel on the sofa and you hear him opening something- a drawer?- and then close it again a second later. Whatever he was looking for, he knew exactly where it was.

“Top off and hands behind your back.” His voice is behind you, even as ever.

You comply right away, stripping yourself of your sweater and t-shirt, hesitating a little at the thought of removing your bra.

“Everything off,” he whispers, much closer than he was before.

Keeping your eyes on the floor, you remove it and try to steady your breath. You feel a light line traced across your back by something you can’t identify. It’s thin and pliable, but has some strength to it, like the branch of a sapling. It makes you shiver as he continues to move it softly back and forth across the widest part of your back.

“So you like snooping around in other people’s things, do you?”

“No,” you stammer, “I don’t usually do that, I don’t know what I was-”

Immediately, there’s a sharp crack as he brings the branch-like thing, a riding crop, you guess, down on your back with force. You give a short scream and your breathing speeds up as you feel the pain leak from the narrow band of impact across your skin.

“You’re lying to me again,” he taunts. “We both know you do that kind of thing all the time, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, trying to focus on anything but the pain and at the same time feeling the juices pooling between your thighs.

“What a bad girl you are.” You flex your muscles, anticipating another strike but he does nothing. You let yourself exhale and relax just a little and that’s when the second blow comes, even harder than the first. The scream you give is louder and tears spring to your eyes. Behind you, you hear him hum in satisfaction and it reverberates in your core.

“You were watching quite a few of those videos. I saw you,” he continues, to your shame. “Tell me, what did you like the most about them?”

“I- I don’t know…”

This time, the strike hits the flesh of your inner arm, exposed because you have your hands clasped behind your back, the way he told you.

“If you’re not going to be honest with me, this is going to be a very rough night for you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” And there’s a sharp impact on your other arm that draws a sob and a long whine.

“Get to the point, little girl.”

“I liked seeing you. I got turned on by what you were doing to those women because I’ve wanted someone to do those things to me.”

He presses himself against your back, running his thumb roughly along one of the whip marks he’s made there. “Now was that so hard?”

You shake your head, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as he circles around you. He presses the handle end of the riding crop- you were right about that- under your chin.

“Look at me.”

You do as you're told, more tears dripping from your eyes as you lift your head.

“Already crying? Are you sure you want this?”

“I do,” you assure him, nodding your head vigorously.

“It only gets rougher from here,” he warns you. “So if you want it to stop…”

“I want to keep going.”

“So you think you deserve to be punished.”

“I do.”

“You know what you did was wrong. And you know that you’re a filthy girl for liking what you saw so much.”

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘yes, sir’” he corrects you sharply.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think about doing things like that when you’re by yourself? About big, mean taking whatever they want from you? About them hurting you and using you?”

“Yes.”

You hear the sound of the riding crop cutting through the air, but not in time to brace yourself for the impact. It hits right across your nipples and if you had thought that the blows to your back and arms hurt, they were nothing compared to this.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you sob.

He snaps the riding crop across the same point, the center of both nipples, making you shriek.

“Show me your hands.”

You lift them for his inspection and he whips your palms repeatedly, like you’re a misbehaving child.

“Now take off the rest of your clothes,” he instructs. “And give me your panties.”

You move to follow the order, flinching in pain at having to use your wounded hands. He paces in front of you, seeming impatient but letting you take the time you need to get fully undressed. When you’re done, you offer him the garment he requested, which he snatches away from you.

He smirks as he rolls them around in his hand. To your relief, he places the riding crop on the desk behind him before he approaches you.

“What’s this?” he sneers, wiping the soaked cotton over your face. “Is this because of what you saw?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You liked it even more than I thought. You really are a dirty little slut. Do you think you deserve to be punished more?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ask me.”

“Please, sir,” you stammer, “I want you to punish me because I’m a dirty slut who got turned on watching your videos.”

He gives you a smirk that carries just a hint of approbation. “Very good, slut. Go kneel on the sofa, ass out, arms on the back.”

You scurry over and do exactly as you’ve been told. Once you’re in position, he follows you, hovering over you.

“Your eyes stay straight ahead,” he cautions.

He kneels on the sofa beside you and reaches down, producing a pair of handcuffs already attached to the old-fashioned heater, obviously installed for the purpose of chaining women in place. You let him take your wrists and manacle them, flinching because the metal is actually hot on your skin. Once again, he disappears behind you.

His hand comes down on your ass with a thunderous noise and you swear you can feel the reverberations in your skeleton. You let out a half-gasp, half-cry but before you’re able to regroup, he smacks your other cheek just as hard, if not harder. He continues this, increasing the pace as he does until you’re screaming and crying.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“I… I think so?”

“I don’t know,” he muses, “your pussy is dripping. I think we might need to look at punishing you another way. I think I might have to pound that slit with my cock to show you what happens to dirty sluts who go looking at things they’re not supposed to.”

“Yes, sir, you should.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes, please, sir, I want your cock.”

“What’s that?”

“Please fuck me, sir. Show me how bad I am.”

He bends over you, pushing his boxers off, and whispers harshly in your ear, “Well as long as you’re absolutely sure.”

You nod and he accepts that, grasping your bruised ass tightly and ramming into you like a jackhammer. He pounds relentlessly, leaving you with nothing to do but take what he’s giving, gasping and mewling in ecstasy as each brutal thrust seems to increase the sensitivity of your cunt, the sensation of pleasure flooding through you.

“Is this what you needed?” he snarls, panting.

“Yes, oh god, yes!” You’re a little shocked at the volume of your own voice but all you want to do is scream because what he’s giving you is what you’ve fantasized about for so long, what your body has always known it needed but could never get. You can feel every nerve rushing towards climax and just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he pulls out, pressing the tip of his dick against your tailbone, just above the crack of your ass, and he comes, the hot liquid trickling down between your ass cheeks and your swollen lips in streams. He traces the flow with his thick fingers, up and down, making you whine in need. Finally, he grabs the towel he brought with him and wipes you off. You’re still whimpering, moving your hips all around, searching for any kind of contract.

He gives a dark chuckle and you hear him walk away. You want to cry but he’s back in a moment, close by you. Immediately, he starts to wind a rope around your legs, soft like silk and strong. He binds your thighs to your calves, your ankles together and then he flips you over, the chain on the handcuffs pulling your arms taut.

You could not be more vulnerable, spread open before him. He wipes his dick across your chest to remove the remaining mix of your juices.

“I’ll bet you think you deserve to come, now, don’t you?”

“Yes, please sir.”

“Why should I let you.”

“I’ve tried to be good for you, sir. I’ve done everything you asked. I’m sorry I lied to you before but I told you the truth after. And you just turn me on so much, sir.”

He smirks again and plants his tree trunk of a thigh on the sofa between your legs.

“Like this,” he growls. “You want to get off? You fuck yourself on my leg like an animal who doesn’t know any better.”

Part of you wants to resist, but you’re so desperate for it that you press yourself against him and start grinding into his thigh. You can feel the powerful muscle beneath the flesh as he flexes, giving you a little more friction. It’s still slippery and the way that you’re bound makes it difficult to move the way you need to, but you’re able to make it work.

“Are you close?” he rasps.

“So close, sir!”

“And am I good to you, letting you cum on my leg like this?”

“Yes, thank you!”

You thrust yourself even harder against him to add just the little bit more pressure that you need, moving faster as you can feel your orgasm ready to burst through you.

And with a nasty grin, he steps back.

Your clit is so engorged that the sensation of air hitting it is actually painful. Although you’d like to remain composed and be angry, you just sob, tears welling up yet again.

“Why?” you cry at him.

“You don’t get to cum until I decide you’re ready.”

“Please, sir, I’m begging you, I need to.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He pulls his boxers back on and grabs the towel, heading towards the door.

“Wait!” you yelp after him. “Where are you going?”

He laughs again, deep and almost demonic. “I’m a busy man. I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

“Aren’t you going to untie me?”

He smirks and throws the towel over his shoulders again. “Oh no. You’re gonna stay right there until I’m ready to use you again.”

#samoa joe imagine #samoa joe fan fiction #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe fanfic #wayward wrestle writing

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

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Scarred male fae (Winter) x female character (sfw)

- Part One of ?

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Another 'free' story on Patreon this month? Call it a bonus and a thank you for being great patrons. Here it is on Tumblr now after being on early release on Patreon.

Winter is a Fae from gnoll boy Brenn's story, and he has his own reader insert with Violet, Brenn's adopted daughter.

@fangedscribe here on Tumblr suggested this and I just couldn't get over it, so here's Chapter One. It's a bit different from my usual style (in that it's a kind of 'murder mystery/detective thing'), and it's third person. His 'love interest' will still be Violet, but I've given her a new incarnation this time. She's not the daughter of a wealthy noblewoman this time :).

Content: murder/mild gore (briefly mentioned/not described in too much detail), self-imposed social isolation (Winter), and a meet-cute involving whisky... Word count: 2936

___

“Oi, Winter!” Ghorbak yelled across the station. “Get your pretty ass in gear! Let’s move!”

Scowling - though the expression was hardly different from his usual one - the fae looked up. “What?” he asked softly. “Another one?”

The massive orc’s brows knitted briefly in confusion but he shook his head. “No, you big dingus!” he laughed. “It’s not work. It’s Garrett’s birthday - drinks at Three-Legged Chair and we’re all invited, remember?” He even gestured at the fact that he’d already changed into civvies and was ready to go out.

Looking back down at the stack of case notes and papers on the desk, Winter tucked a wayward strand of his long, silver blond hair behind his tapered ear and shook his head. “I want to finish this up.”

Well used to his colleague’s unhealthy working habits, the orc was having none of it this time. Striding back over to the sergeant’s desk, he planted his big green palms on the surface and leaned down. “You’re going to work yourself to the bone,” he growled. “Come out with us. Let loose a bit. It’ll be good for you.”

“If I agree to come,” he said quietly but firmly, staring unflinchingly up at his colleague, “You must agree not to harass me about socialising for at least a month.��

“What is it with you fae and making deals, huh?” he laughed. “Two weeks.”

“Three.”

“Done,” the orc laughed, swatting his hand affectionately in Winter’s direction and backing off. “Come on.”

Sighing, Winter stood and pulled on his jacket. He tidied and locked away the files on his desk and then strode over to the others gathered at the doorway. Garrett was there and the werewolf grinned broadly at him, though he hardly knew why; Winter wasn’t exactly the most gregarious member of their team. Garrett was still in his human form, but there was something notably lupin about his features. Winter only nodded mutely in greeting and the three of them headed out into the autumnal night, hurrying along to the pub with hands stuffed in pockets against the chill.

The bar was lively when they got there, and as Garrett moved inside a cheer went up from the back of the room, and he started laughing when he saw the group of gathered friends waiting for him. A gnoll barrelled over and hugged him, already three sheets to the wind, and then flung herself at Ghorbak, and even risked the Fae’s displeasure by hugging him as well. Winter went rigid at the touch, but endured it until she removed herself without apology and dragged Garrett over to down a disgusting concoction in a pint glass.

Winter looked away in disgust as the werewolf downed it and then howled. With a sigh, he walked to the bar on his right and ordered a neat whisky. The elf behind the bar smiled at him but he didn’t reciprocate, even as he handed over the cash to pay for his drink. He didn’t see the point.

It was as he stood at the polished copper surface of the bar that he noticed a woman sitting alone, staring into the depths of an apparently untouched drink. She was beautiful, in a very human way, he supposed. Wavy dark hair, sensuous body, dark eyes… Quite deliberately quelling his initial flare of curiosity, he waited for the bartender to slide his whisky tumbler towards him, but the emotions she was exuding were so tangible that he could taste the misery that hung around her shoulders in a deep cloud.

She glanced up at him when she felt him staring, and although his heart juddered to a halt for a moment at the striking beauty of her face, he turned away before her sad eyes could take in the extensive scarring across his once-flawless face. The pain of the fae-hounds’ attack as they had finally caught him flared anew, their phantom teeth sinking into his arms and hands all over again as he recalled fruitlessly trying to defend his face from their lashing claws, as if the old scar tissue pulsed at the recollection. Grinding his teeth, he stalked away from the bar and rejoined his co-workers.

Ghorbak and a few others were dancing and clowning around, Garrett had pulled one of his human friends into his lap and the two were laughing, finally sharing a kiss that was met with whoops and cheers and catcalls. Something intangible - magic, Winter realised - spiked through the room and he glanced behind to see the beautiful woman leaving. The other patrons unconsciously cleared a path for her, stepping aside as if repelled on a primal level by the sadness in her features.

He watched her go and frowned. No one should be that lonely. But what could he do? A fae with almost no magic of his own, with access only to the collective magic of the fae through bargains; he was better off not interfering. He was always better off not interfering - with human affairs, certainly.

One of Garrett’s friends, and someone Winter only half recognised, perhaps from another social occasion, sidled up to him a little while later and grinned at him. “You look like you couldn’t be having any less fun…” she commented.

“Apologies,” he said. “I have that effect on a lot of social gatherings.”

Instead of being put off by his frosty manner, she laughed. Something twisted inside him at the sound of it, but his expression remained unmoved.

“You want another whisky?” she asked, eyeing his glass which held only fumes now. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder and said, “I’m heading up for another one myself…”

His eyebrows twitched in mild surprise.

“What?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who think women can’t appreciate a decent single malt?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied flatly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

She softened slightly at the honesty of his response and laughed. “What can I get you?”

“This was a Glenlivet,” he said, “And not very good. I’m open to something else.”

She nodded. “Right, duly noted.” And with that, she strode away.

His pale blue eyes clinically took in her lean, almost hard figure as she left. Five foot four or five, with straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a dark, close-fitting, scruffy t-shirt with a logo he hadn’t recognised, and skinny jeans that showed she had wiry, muscular legs; she seemed tough but otherwise relatively nondescript. The lonely woman at the bar had been more classically beautiful by far, but he found himself admiring the way this woman leaned on the bar and shared a joke with the elf as if they’d known each other for decades.

When a man who was also waiting for his drink grabbed her backside, Winter was two strides across the room before he realised she’d put the guy in an arm-lock and slammed his wrist down on the copper top of the bar. “Keep your filthy paws to yourself,” she snarled at the man who’s eyes watered and pride smarted, picking up the two whiskies from the bar and stalking away with a face like thunder.

Her sharp expression softened when she saw that Winter had not only made a move to help her out, but had stopped when he’d seen that she had it all under control. “You alright?” he still asked as she rejoined him.

“Jackass,” she growled, proffering one of the glasses and chinking it against her own once he’d taken it. The fiery liquid sloshed, glinting in the low light of the bar.

It went against the grain for almost all Fae to utter the words ‘thank you’, since it indicated some obligation to the giver, so he just bowed his head and sniffed the glass. A sharp rush of the whisky’s heady nose filled his senses and made his eyes water a little.

He quirked an eyebrow quizzically at her but she shook her head. “Guess.”

“Am I allowed to sample it before I guess?” he asked and she nodded.

“Sure you are. Unless you’re really confident you can identify it…”

Winter had become very familiar with a lot of whiskies over the years, and he was fairly certain he knew what this was. “It’s fruity,” he said. “Sweet, but… sharp still…” Resisting the urge to check the bottles on display behind the bar, he went with his gut and said, “Scapa.”

Her grin was lopsided and surprisingly attractive. “You do know your shit,” she laughed. “I thought you were just pretending.”

“Fae…” he said. “I cannot lie.”

Her face darkened visibly at his admission, and she took a mouthful of whisky that was more of a gulp than a sip. “Yeah, but you lot can bend the truth til the cows come home.” Then she made a sound of surprise and chuckled. “Talking of Fae-related things, what should I call you?”

Winter had to admit to himself that he was intrigued, perplexed, and amused by her in equal parts. Something of that must have shown on his scarred face because she softened a bit more and raised her eyebrows expectantly. “You can call me Winter,” he said. “Everyone does.”

She flicked her gaze to his long, icy blond hair and her grin widened. “I can see why. Well, you can call me Violet. Or V,” she added with a shrug.

“You would just give your true name to me like that?” he asked, surprised. Most people gave him their true names, but that was because they assumed he was an elf at first sight. Her mood had darkened considerably - however briefly - when she had learned that he was Fae, and yet the power of her name had struck him like an iron bell the moment she’d uttered it. “Knowing what I am?”

Her dark eyes glittered playfully. “Sure,” and she plucked playfully at a pocket on his uniform, “Officer…”

He felt his thickly-corded scars stretch as he smiled again, a true smile this time. “You’re one of Garrett’s friends, aren’t you?” he asked.

She nodded, but before he could follow up with another question, someone outside the bar screamed. The sound went on and on and didn’t stop.

The three police officers - two in plain clothes and one in uniform - reacted instantly. “Stay here,” Winter barked at her, shoving his half-empty glass at her and bolting for the door.

Garrett was a bit drunk so he stayed back on the main street once they were outside, but it took more than a couple of pints for the orc to feel anything at all, and Winter’s alcohol tolerance was pretty good. A human woman was standing on the pavement outside the pub, screaming and pointing down the service alley that ran alongside the bar. Garrett went to her and ushered her away from the mouth of the alley while the other two hurried into the shadows.

“Ghor,” Winter barked as he rounded the building and saw a slumped and bloodied figure in the alleyway, her back resting against the brickwork of the pub. It was the melancholy woman from the bar and his chest twisted violently at the sight of her. “Lock this area down. Call it in.”

Winter approached the body cautiously, not wanting to contaminate or disturb the scene for the on-duty officers who would arrive shortly, along with the coroner. He stared at the face of the woman who sat half-slumped against the dumpster, her bare legs twisted at an awkward angle beneath her. Her expression was passive, melancholy, and betrayed nothing of the horror that must have befallen her in her final moments. Her throat had been slit, staining her chest and burgundy dress with dark liquid that he could smell and taste, even from that distance. There was also the lingering trace of magic in the air.

Ghorbak stalked down the alley towards him a moment later. “Fuck,” he said. “Just like the last two.” He paused, watching Winter’s face carefully, and added, “Magic?”

Winter nodded grimly, his long ponytail sliding over his shoulder as he stared unblinkingly down at her. “It’s fading, but there were…” he paused, tilting his head to one side and closing his eyes to concentrate on the remnants of magic in the air, “Two Fae here,” he said. “The traces will vanish soon. They’ve not long ago left.”

“It’s only just happened?” Ghorbak snarled, looking around the rooftops that overlooked alley as if the killers would be peeking over the guttering above like children who’d played a gruesome prank.

Winter nodded again. “It sickens me that Fae are involved in this. And I want to know what’s going on.”

“You and half the city, mate,” Ghor rumbled. “Three bodies makes this a serial killer, no doubt…”

At the flashing of blue lights, the two off-duty officers turned to greet their colleagues. It was grim, but once they’d handed over Winter and Ghorbak headed inside to reassure the remaining customers, and the owner of the pub.

Someone appeared at Winter’s right elbow and he jumped slightly, still lost in his dark thoughts. “Here,” and a full whisky glass was offered to him.

He looked around and found V standing there, her eyes full of concern. He took it from her with only a little less of his usual grace, pale fingers trembling slightly, but this time he murmured, “Thank you.”

V had clearly had some dealing with Fae before, because surprise showed in her expression.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “Is… Is it the Throatcutter?” she asked in a small voice, sipping her own whisky.

Winter swallowed, bile threatening to rise in his gullet at the mention of the name the press had given the murderer after the last two. “I can’t discuss police matters with a civilian,” he said, but when she cocked an eyebrow at him, he added, “But… it seems that way at first glance.”

“There’s a rumour that it’s ritualistic,” she went on. “Some kind of… uh… Fae magic… thing…”

Winter’s grip on the tumbler bordered on shatteringly tight, and with an effort he forced himself to ease up a little. “I can’t…” he hissed.

“It’s ok,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to prod you for answers; I’m just… talking…” She puffed out her cheeks as she blew out a sigh and said, “Garrett’s birthday kinda got rained on…”

Winter looked across the room at where the werewolf was sitting on a battered old couch, a third pint in hand and talking quietly with the human whom he’d been kissing so passionately earlier.

“I should go,” Winter remarked.

Her head whipped round to look at him again. “Really?”

Grinding his teeth, he nodded. “There’s work to be done.”

“I thought you were off-duty?”

Very deliberately not looking her in the eyes, he sighed. “Yes,” he said, staring at his ever-diminishing whisky. “But… I… I can’t just…”

“What time do you officially start tomorrow?” she asked, turning more to face him.

As she stood there, staring up at him with that earnest, intense expression on her face, the urge to flinch away from her suddenly surged in him in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was used to his scars now, though he would frequently shield others from the raw impact of them; he rarely felt truly self-conscious about them anymore, except when people blurted things like ‘what the hell happened to you?’ out of the blue.

“I’m usually in by eight,” he said, finishing the remainder of his drink in one. “Excuse me. You enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Wait,” she almost yipped as he turned away and headed to return his glass to the bar on his way out.

Against all instincts, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her.

“I work just around the corner from the station - it’s how I know Garrett. You… You want to get breakfast or something? I’m teaching a five-thirty class, so I’ll be there already…”

“Five-thirty?” he asked, turning back to look at her properly again.

She smiled prettily and he felt his lungs tighten a little. “Fitness instructor,” she added bashfully. “I’m on the early shifts this week while Charlotte’s away. Sucks, but…” she shrugged. “So… how about it?”

“How about what?”

“Breakfast,” V said with a slight giggle.

“Oh. I…” Everything screamed at him to say no. Relationships with humans ended in pain, and as if to remind him of that, his scars throbbed again. “I…” But instead of turning her down, he found himself saying, “I would like that. What time shall I come to the gym? We can go from there.”

“Seven too early for you?” she said.

Winter was not an early morning creature by nature, but he nodded once.

“It’s Falcon Fitness,” she said. “There’s another one just across the road, so I wouldn’t want you to go to the wrong one.”

“Worried I’d take someone else to breakfast instead?” he asked with just the tiniest hint of flirtatiousness in his voice.

She grinned. “I’ll see you at seven.”

Astonished by his own lifting spirits, despite the grisly happenings that night, Winter strode away without looking back and felt oddly as if his feet weren’t touching the ground for the entire journey back to his humble apartment in the elven quarter of the city. He didn’t even realise that he hadn’t gone back to the police station until he was unlocking his apartment door.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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#fae #winter #male fae #character with scars #fae x female character #fae romance story #exophilia #fantasy #modern fantasy #modern fantasy setting #au of my own story #haha #look at me posting at 9am UK time instead of peak times but I don't care I'm too sick to give a shit

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thetimelordbatgirl · 4 years

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Marvel Descendants OCs

Acknowledgment: When Marvel Descendants was first written in 2015, one year after I joined Tumblr, at the time I wasn’t aware of how bad certain things were and while I am aware this is a bad excuse for what I’m about to acknowledge, it’s all I have really for what I wrote into Marvel Descendants at 14-15 as back then, I was into DC’s Kingdom Come and when I saw them ship Nightstar and Ibn al Xu'ffasch (pre-Damien Wayne), I didn’t see anything wrong with it and as a result, used the adopted family excuse for shipping Locket Lokidottir and Theo Thorson. Now that I am older and know more over the years, I wish I had known back then, but I wasn’t deep into Tumblr until December 2014 and even then, it took me until a while back to realize Marvel Descendants was wrong for that, but by that point, book 5 confirming the ship two married in the future, was out and while its too late to fix canon, I try to fix it in AUs and ship the two with other characters. Any other issues within Marvel Descendants, I am trying to fix and hope to avoid in the future as I continue writing.

Description of Marvel Descendants: Marvel Descendants is a marvel version of Disney Descendants that follows The Isle of the Lost, Descendants 1 and Wicked Wold in first two books and mini-spin off and goes on its own plot in book 3, with it now being tied @disneyfan50 ‘s series, Descendant of Loki, starting from the team up/crossover, Daughters of The Trickster, with the series continuing on right now with planned future installments and AUs.

Timeline so far:

Book 1: The Area of The Lost. Summary: Twenty years ago, all villains from Loki to Doctor doom were sent to the lost part of asgard with a shield around it to keep them there and them from ever escaping. The villains and their children now live in total isolation, forgotten by the world. But now there is a price for grabs, Loki's sceptre, could be their chance of escape, but they have to prove their more then willing to do anything evil to get hold of it. In their quest, they also learn, that being good can also help and isn't so bad at all sometimes. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6739788/The-Isle-of-the-lost-Marvel-Version/1

Book 2: Descendants: Marvel Version. Summary: Thor's daughter is about to be crowned goddess of lightning when she suddenly requests for the children of the villains to be given a chance at redemption. When their parents give them a task to get hold of the Tessaract so they can take over the world, the children of Loki, doctor doom, Sabertooth, the leader and the Mandarin and the granddaughter of red skull, have their own choice to make, be good or be evil like their parents. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6677501/Descendants-Marvel-Version/1

Book 3: Marvel Descendants: The Art of Mischief. Summary: Its been a week after tori's crowning of her title and the attack of doctor doom and the villains kids have been living a normal half term, well, as normal as they could get anyway, but now school is on again, but also, a old enemy is rising in the darkness of asgard, and he is out for revenge on asgard and earth. Sometimes, heroes are born at different points and sometimes, its not a good move to judge someone based on their look or their background.... Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6814801/Marvel-Descendants-The-Art-Of-Mischief

Mini-Spin Off: Marvel Descendants: Wicked World. Summary: The marvel descendants are back, and good is the new bad in this case, with drama and pranks and mischief and of course, the children of the heroes and villains, this is wicked world. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6924709/Marvel-Descendants-Wicked-World/1

Crossover with @disneyfan50 : The Daughters of The Trickster. Summary: When a portal opens unexpectedly in Locket's room, another girl falls out. Her name is Lilith Lokidottir, the daughter of another Loki from and alternate universe. The tides of evil are rising, and at their helm is none other than the Queen of Darkness herself. Can Locket and Lily stop this menace together? Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6859006/The-Daughters-of-the-Trickster/1

Book 4: Marvel Descendants: The Trickster’s Curse. Summary: Life is starting to go back to normal for Locket lokidottir, daughter of loki, the battle against mariana over, but that doesn't mean that there is not a effect in all of this. There is a curse on the school coming out, and it may be lockets and theos fault, when Loki though falls to it next, locket, theo, tamora and a new ally, lucy selvig, have to find the cure and put a end to this curse before it continues, but who set it? who left it? why is it affecting locket and her father the most? and why does darkness and poison come with it? Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/6984816/Marvel-Descendants-The-Tricksters-Curse/1/

Book 5: Marvel Descendants: Sins of The Past. Summary: Its the year 2032- and things have changed. The X-Men have failed in their one mission: to get human acceptence. Now mutants, metra-humans, off world people and even humans who were assoicated with mutants or could have mutant kids, are either in prison, on the run or killed. Jackie Haller leads a group against this and they have a plan- go back in time to save the future. In 2016, the past is about to commit the one act that makes this happen without knowing it..... The resistance in the future are on a ticking time bomb to stop this event with the pasts help.... ....Or its game over. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/8099153/Marvel-Descendents-Sins-Of-The-Past/1

Crossover with @disneyfan50 : Untitled. Summary: TBA.

Agent of Asgard: Volume 1: Summary: Well now i have done it- i never thought that in my life, that i would work for heroes- But here i am, Locket Lokidottir, working as a agent for Queen Jane of Asgard, but now, now im in the deep end, i got a crazy version of myself after me, im meeting weird people and theres some plot going on- Why cant i just go back to being normal yet? Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/8471877/Agent-Of-Asgard-Volume-1/1

Crossover with @disneyfan50 and Entity High: Untitled. Summary: TBA.

Agent of Asgard: Volume 2: Summary: TBA.

Agent of Asgard: Volume 3: Summary: TBA.

Agent of Asgard: Volume 4: Summary: TBA.

Spin Off: Siege Perilous: Summary: Being a dragon should mean you should always be able to soar through the air, no matter what- the skies your limit. But what happens when someone tries to clip your wings? Jayla Del'Tazar thought her troubles ended with Mariana Malora- she was wrong. As soon, Jayla finds herself in her own battle against a man named Draeko, a pureblood dragon determined to take her out for her relations, in any way possible. Travelling to Wakanda with Princess Kiara and Jayla's girlfriend, Peregrine Wilson, Jayla soon finds that when pushed to the edge of possible surrender and near death, that sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire...and in this case, that fire is discovering hidden abilities she never knew she had until then, and things only change from there on. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/11017793/Siege-Perilous/1

Agent of Asgard: Volume 5: Summary: TBA.

Untitled Sequel to Siege Perilous: Summary: TBA.

Book 6: Untitled. Summary: TBA.

Untitled third book to Siege Perilous: Summary: TBA.

Book Set in the Future: Marvel Descendants: Up From the Depths: Summary: Its the year 2032, and the Area of the Lost has existed for more then 20 years as the grandchildren of the villains and heroes now exist and the previous generation have grown up. But soon enough, after a crack appears in a dome and a poisoning of the villains grandchildren at SHIELD Academy happens, its a adventure that soon leads to a truth about the Area and its residents...and how unlike the heroes....not everyone has a good path in life....and may need help more then ever at this point. Link: https://www.quotev.com/story/9912322/Marvel-Descendants-Up-from-the-Depths/1

Locket Lokidottir

- daughter of Loki-

Faceclaim:

India Eisley.

Richard Creed

- son of Sabertooth-

Faceclaim:

Jason Scott Dolley.

Victoria Von Doom

- daughter of Doctor Doom-

Faceclaim:

Raffey Cassidy.

Alex Sterns

- son of The Leader-

Faceclaim:

Ferdia Shaw.

Lucas

- son of The Mandarin-

Faceclaim:

Ryan Potter.

Tamora

Schmidt- granddaughter of Red Skull-

Faceclaim:

Sadie Sink.

Torunn ‘Tori’ Thordottir

- daughter of Thor-

Faceclaim:

Chloe Grace Mortez.

Theo Thorson

- son of Thor-

Faceclaim:

Landon Liboiron.

Lila Creed

- daughter of Sabertooth-

Faceclaim:

Mia Talerico.

Johnny and Jessica (formerly Olivia)

- twins of Juggernaut-

Faceclaim(s):

TBA.

Lizzie Octavious

- daughter of Doctor Octopus-

Faceclaim:

TBA.

Frigga Thordottir

- daughter of Thor-

Faceclaim:

Abby Ryder Foster.

Ravan Darkholme

- son of Mystique-

Faceclaim:

TBA.

Andrew and Ally Amoradottir

- twins of Amora-

Faceclaim(s):

TBA.

Nathan Osborn

- son of Norman Osborn-

Faceclaim:

TBA.

Thorn Sifson

- son of Sif-

Faceclaim:

Spencer Boldman.

Amanda Amoradottir

- daughter of Amora-

Faceclaim:

Sabrina Carpenter.

Devlin Kilgrave

- son of Kilgrave-

Faceclaim:

TBA.

*Maria Stark- daughter of Iron Man- Faceclaim: TBA. *James Fury- son of Nick Fury- Faceclaim: Tyrel Jackson. *Poppy Coulson- daughter of Phil Coulson- Faceclaim: TBA. *Snow Banner- daughter of the Hulk- Faceclaim: TBA. *Luke Walters- son of She Hulk- Faceclaim: TBA. *Riley Jones- daughter of A-Bomb- Faceclaim: TBA. *Mark Hill- son of Maria Hill- Faceclaim: Bradley Steven Perry. *Margaret ‘Peggy’ Rogers- daughter of Captain America- Faceclaim: TBA. *Andrew Wilson- son of the Falcon- Faceclaim: TBA. *Harry Pym- son of Wasp and Giant Man- Faceclaim: TBA. *Nick and Jade Barton- twins of Hawkeye and Black Widow- Faceclaim(s): TBA. *Lauren Howlett- daughter of Wolverine and Storm- Faceclaim: TBA. *Joy Summers- daughter of Cyclops and Jean Grey- Faceclaim: Mackenzie Foy. *Gwen Parker- daughter of Spiderman and MJ- Faceclaim: TBA. *Jessica Storm- daughter of the Human Torch- Faceclaim: TBA.

*Lynn Richards- daughter of Mr. Fantastic and Invisible Woman- Faceclaim: TBA. *Atli Volstaggdottir- daughter of Volstagg- Faceclaim: TBA. *Heleo Fandralson- son of Fandral- Faceclaim: Ross Lynch. *Vio Fandraldottir- daughter of Fandral- Faceclaim: TBA. *Ty Hogunson- son of Hogun- Faceclaim: TBA. *Andrea ‘Andy’ Barnes- daughter of Winter Soldier- Faceclaim: TBA. *Gordon Maximoff- son of Scarlet Witch- Faceclaim: TBA. *Millicent Maximoff- daughter of Quicksilver- Faceclaim: TBA. *Techna- daughter of Vision- Faceclaim: TBA. *Tee Strange- daughter of Doctor Strange- Faceclaim: TBA. *Kiara (formerly Ann)- daughter of Black Panther- Faceclaim: China Anne McClain. *Mick Gold- son of Mockingbird- Faceclaim: TBA. *Charles Danvers- son of Captain Marvel- Faceclaim: TBA. *Brooke Murdock- daughter of Daredevil- Faceclaim: TBA. *Willow Rhodes- daughter of War Machine- Faceclaim: TBA. *Destineva Heimdalldottir- daughter of Heimdall- Faceclaim: TBA. *Jake Amaquin- son of Crystal- Faceclaim: TBA.

*Danielle Rand- daughter of Iron Fist- Faceclaim: TBA. *Toby Masters- daughter of Taskmaster- Faceclaim: TBA. *Kasey Parker- daughter of Spiderman and MJ- Faceclaim: TBA. *Maxine- daughter of Electro- Faceclaim: TBA.

*Alastair Quill- son of Star Lord and Gamora- Faceclaim: Bradley Steven Parry.

*Lucy Selvig- daughter of Eric Selvig- Faceclaim: Saxon Sharbino. *Aidan ‘Acrylic’ Lokison- son of Loki- Faceclaim: Eka Darville. *James Selvig- son of Eric- Faceclaim: TBA.

*Leela Theodottir- future daughter of Theo and Locket- Faceclaim: Grace Kaufman. *Leonardo ‘Leo’ Theoson- future son of Theo and Locket- Faceclaim: Logan Williams. *Luna Theodottir- future daughter of Theo and Locket- Faceclaim: Lauren Boles. *Daniel Creed- future son of Richard and Joy- Faceclaim: Carter Hastlings. *Roxanne ‘Roxie’ Thorndottir- future daughter of Thorn and Tori- Faceclaim: Caitlin Carmichael. *Vanessa Wilson- future daughter of Andrew and Victoria- Faceclaim: Kyla Drew. *Jacqueline ‘Jackie’ Xavier- granddaughter of Charles Xavier- Faceclaim: TBA. *Elsbeth Wagner- daughter of Nightcrawler- Faceclaim: TBA. *Zelina Lebeau- daughter of Rouge and Gambit- Faceclaim: TBA. *Octave Lebeau- son of Rouge and Gambit- Faceclaim: TBA. *Cerise Wilson- daughter of Deadpool- Faceclaim: TBA. *Feliks Rasputin- son of Shadowcat and Colossus- Faceclaim: TBA. *Max Summers- son of Havoc and Polaris- Faceclaim: TBA. *Derek Worthington- son of Angel and Psylocke- Faceclaim: TBA. *Paige McCoy- daughter of Beast- Faceclaim: TBA. *Alix Drake- daughter of Ice Man- Faceclaim: TBA. *Screech Cassidy- daughter of Banshee- Faceclaim: TBA.

*Jayla Antoine- adopted daughter of Colin- Faceclaim: Skai Jackson.

*Ella- granddaughter of Elsa (in Auradon)- Faceclaim: Peyton Elizabeth Lee.. *Jamie Sterns- daughter of Alex and Snow- Faceclaim: Eve Moon. *Nike Stark- son of Maria and Lucas- Faceclaim: TBA. *Dove Wilson- daughter of Andrew and Victoria- Faceclaim: Millie Davis. *Tracy Octavious- daughter of Lizzie- Faceclaim: Bailee Madison. *Misty Darkholme- daughter of Ravan- Faceclaim: Morgan Lily. *Alan Allyson- son of Ally- Faceclaim: Ty Simpkins. *Ava Allydottir- daughter of Ally- Faceclaim: Maggie Elizabeth Jones. *Renee and Brandon Creed- twins of Richard and Joy- Faceclaim(s): Kennedi Clements and Jacob Trembley. *Kol Amandason- adopted son of Amanda- Faceclaim: Oakes Fegley. *Usagi Del’Tazar- twin daughter of Jayla and Peregrine- Faceclaim: Sofia Wylie.

#megan's ocs #megan's fanfiction #OC's masterpost #original series OCs

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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years

Text

fic recs

time to make a post about every single amazing fic I’ve read! it’s gonna be a longass post so get ready!

fandoms, ships and tropes included:

Supernatural - Destiel (mostly AUs), Wincest, Sastiel, Sabriel, Sam x Ruby, Sam x Reader // omegaverse / boyking!Sam / God!Sam

BBC Sherlock - Johnlock, Sherlock x Molly Hooper x John and included pairings, Sherlock x Mycroft x Greg x John and all included pairings // omegaverse

Loki - Loki/OC

***this entire list has NSFW fics***

SUPERNATURAL

God!Sam, no ships

The Holy Grail Bird by de_nugis for monicawoe

The God-gun has a divine recoil effect. Sam has to have another try at living with power.

...

Boyking!Sam, no ships

The King’s Guard by monicawoe

Andy had spent the last few hours watching Sam Winchester —King of Hell, God of the Abyss, Bane of Heaven— kill nearly two dozen souls, and feed them all to his pet — the biggest, scariest looking hellhound of them all.

...

Destiel

Twist and Shout by standbyme, gabriel

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

...

Blades of Silver, Hearts of Gold by Scribo_Vivere

Corsair Winchester is the most feared pirate in the Caribbean waters. When he makes it his goal to attack the Pride of Heaven, a massive ship that is part of Port Lawrence's Naval fleet, he finds himself ill-prepared in every way to come face to face with Commodore Castiel Novak, the brother of the man he wishes dead. It seems an easy solution to take the Commodore captive, but Castiel's ocean-blue eyes, kissable mouth, and fiery defiance make Winchester begin to question his choice. As a war ensues on all fronts, it remains to be seen who is the prisoner, who is the master, and how far both men will go in the name of prudence, sacrifice, and love.

...

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again.

...

Steps by Camerahead12

The moment he saw Dean Winchester dance Castiel knew he was lost.

It wasn’t the way his muscles moved as he leapt across the floor, or even the way the sweat dripped down the man’s freckled skin. It was just simply the way he danced. The passion that bled out from the movements left him breathless and thirsty for more.

And when he danced with Dean that first time, it was like falling in love.

Little did he know that falling for the man would lead to questioning everything Castiel has ever stood for. As the deadline for the studios yearly performance draws closer, will Castiel be able to come up with an idea good enough to save his company? Or will it be too late to pull it away from Crowley, his money hungry investor’s hands?

As everything begins to slowly fall into place, Fate (as She usually does) has other ideas. Just when life seems to be working out, not only will their trust in each other be tested, but their strength they’ve discovered within themselves starts to bend. Will they be able to hold it together before it snaps, leaving nothing but broken dreams in its place?

...

Find Me in the Light by allmystars

Castiel is fine with his life. Really, he is. He’s content with the locals and his prying, if well-meaning, business partner and brother. Everything is just...fine. That’s how he likes it—plain and uneventful.

Until Gabriel hires Dean Winchester to work at the cafe and, suddenly, Castiel's carefully crafted isolation is broken apart like the waves that stole his mother from him, and Castiel hates him for it.

He hates Dean’s attitude—hates his car and his stupidly pretty face with that permanent smirk. He just...hates Dean Winchester.

Until he doesn’t.

Until, somehow, Dean manages to weasel his way into Castiel’s heart and take up permanent residence there. Then Castiel isn’t fine—he’s far from it, actually. He’s great—wonderful and perfect and happy.

But things change—nothing is ever-present—and this loss might kill him. It might just tear Castiel apart. After all, how do you lose something you’ve been searching for your whole life, and survive it? How do you do that?

Castiel doesn’t think he can.

...

Of Twists and Turns by Kitmistry, Piento

When naval surgeon Castiel Novak is captured by the Black Impala pirates, he has no choice but to agree to their terms: He is to serve on their ship for a whole year before they release him. That doesn’t mean he is going to like it, though. Especially when their captain is the embodiment of everything Castiel despises.

Determined to earn his freedom, Castiel settles into the life of an outlaw. When the pirates’ true goal is revealed, though, he can no longer deny that things are not as black and white as he thought they were. And he can’t deny how drawn he is to Captain Winchester either.

...

Sabriel

Fifty Shades of Freedom by Aria_Lerendeair (omegaverse fic)

Gabriel Novak is a Class-A Alpha asshole and Sam Winchester wants nothing to do with him, especially after that interview! Except then, he maybe finds out a few things about Gabriel Novak that make him hate him a little less, and hey, maybe some of that bondage stuff sounds interesting…

Golden Shades of Freedom by Aria_Lerendeair (PART 2)

After the world finds out about their relationship, Sam settles into something semi-normal, with Gabriel. The paparazzi are desperate for something, but Sam is, well. Happier than he expected to be, dating an asshole like Gabriel. That, of course, is when the invitation from Gabriel’s family had come for the summer. Sam agrees to go, only if he can bring Dean with him. A few uncomfortable family revelations and one epic fight later, Sam’s left wondering if Gabriel actually is his happily ever after.

...

Sam x Ruby (and side-Destiel)

Job & Family by TigerLilyNoh

After Dean's death (at the end of season 3), Sam and Ruby begin hunting down Lilith. Without Dean by his side, Sam finds the world of hunting to not be as black and white as he once thought. He just wants to get closure and move on with life, but outside forces aren't making that so easy. By the time the brothers reunite, Sam is a very different person than he used to be.

The battle for Hell, Heaven, and the Apocalypse begins. In these crazy times, the boys find themselves with new enemies, allies, and bedfellows.

...

Sam and/or Dean x Reader

@negans-lucille-tblr is a great writer on Tumblr. I tried making a list of all the series I’d recommend and then realized I was just writing her entire Supernatural masterlist so here’s the link to her actual masterlist.

@winchest09 is also a great writer. Haven’t read her entire masterlist but her Life for Rent series is amazing.

...

BBC SHERLOCK

Johnlock

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (omegaverse fic)

In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through.

Wasn't he?

A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

…

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction

“What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?"

...

BDSM (aka, thousands of words of pure filth. porn with plot if you squint.)

various pairings between Sherlock, Greg, John, Mycroft, Molly, and Eurus. (Molly and Eurus are non-con relationships)

Something Extraordinary by sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr

In a Dom/sub world, Dom!John and sub!Mycroft have found each other as have Dom!Sherlock and sub!Greg. This is their story.

…

Things Unwanted by sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr

sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr

This series contains variations on non-con/dub-con scenarios, most of which involve abduction and/or imprisonment of one form or another.

…

The Detective, His Doctor, His Brother, and His DCI by sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr

This is the first fic where The Detective and the Doctor and The British Government and the DI come together here.

...

Fics of the Void (aka very dark fics, non-con is a given)

Wincest

A Threefold Path to Redemption by rei_c

Sam finds a way to keep Dean from going to hell: he'll go in his brother's place. He knows it's going to be bad and that he'll emerge changed. He never knew how much.

...

Suite!verse by leonidaslion

This is how the world ends, this is how the world ends, this is how the world ends…

...

Sastiel

Like a Nail to a Cross by azazelsocks (unfinished but still posting)

“I want what any god wants,” Castiel said. “I want you. Your life, your soul, your devotion. Everything you have to give belongs to me, your God. In exchange, your family will be safe.”

There really was no other answer. “I agree,” Sam said.

The new God orders the Winchesters to kneel or be destroyed, and Sam, as always, will do anything to save his brother.

...

Sam and Dean-centric, no ships

Semper Familia by KatZen

When his dad comes back into the clearing with a scrawny kid he's just bought in tow, Dean isn't surprised. He knows Lilim aren't human, that they're creatures, like witches or wendigo.

But the kid that John's got by the arm, who's pulled as far away from Dean's dad as possible without actually trying to get his arm back, the kid whose eyes don't leave John and are bright with fear, the kid who looks like he hasn't eaten in a couple of days and is obviously favoring his left leg...

This kid looks an awful lot like a person. And what's more, he's the same age Sammy would have been.

...

LOKI

Loki/OC

Banditry by LoquaciousQuibbler (unfinished but still posting)

Noir, a thief living on the streets of Asgard, didn't realize it was Prince Loki she had pickpocketed. Call it a happy coincidence. She's immediately charmed by him, but how could a thief get her hands on the key to the prince's heart? Oh, no need. She's pretty handy with a lock pick.

...

shameless self promotion

LOKI | no ships

Stories of Innocence

A collection of short stories (five chapters or less) about Loki's youth. For those people who have a sudden craving for when Loki was happy and before Odin happened.

...

The End

The opposite end of the spectrum; where my Stories of Innocence are of young Thor and Loki, these are older Thor and Loki stories. They are part of the MCU and are based on events from those movies. Warning: lots of feels (I made myself almost cry for a character I dislike because of what I wrote).

...

BBC SHERLOCK | Johnlock

Loving a Married Man

I seem to love to make myself cry. A small collection of Sherlock feels stories. Warning: may make you cry.

...

SUPERNATURAL | Boyking!Sam / Sastiel

Prompt Fight | on ao3

A collection of boyking!Sam short stories written in accordance to prompts given.

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rankakiu · 5 years

Text

Thoughts of the Droid: X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019)

Hello, people of Tumblr! How has life treated you? As always, I hope very well.

Although my reviews are late (as always), I lose nothing in sharing them at this time. On this occasion, I bring you my opinions and thoughts on the latest movie of the X-Men franchise from 20TH Century Fox: X-Men: Dark Phoenix.

WARNING: NOT SPOILER-FREE. Read at your own risk

Going fully into the review, what did I think of the movie? Short answer: It is entertaining and acceptable, but left many things to be desired and could have been a more complete and spectacular product. Now we go with details.

Characters: What to say at this point? Although the characters are held with a certain charisma and that embody in a good way the characters of the original comics, the truth is not a development that is worthy of them. They are not one-dimensional or detestable characters, but there is also nothing that feels they mature and reaffirm their personalities.

In this case, I think the actors did a good job and it's more the script's fault. And not everything is bad, since there were very good interpretations in this film, such as that of Charles Xavier (James McAvoy), Erik Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) and the one that I think is the best, the interpretation of Sophie Turner, who In this installment of the franchise, she gives us an emotionally unstable Jean Gray with a cosmic power capable of wiping out entire worlds.

Basically, the conflict of Jean Gray is perfectly achieved, since first, we see her receive the cosmic power of the Phoenix without major consequences, and then see how gradually she loses control of such immense power, to the point that she feels terrified and isolates herself in her suffering to avoid harming those she loves. You can feel her pain, her anguish, her despair. And when the Phoenix Force seizes her, she acquires an expression that denotes her anger and resentment, you can really believe that she is a real threat and an almost divine entity. Turner's interpretation is solid and so good that the viewer manages to empathize with her.

Story: Good, but does not contribute much to the franchise or the characters. Although right now I write this review, I know that D’Bari aliens are part of the Marvel comics, I feel that their presence in this film is more than enough. I think at this point they were able to skip them to concentrate on how to better present the story, than being honest, they already had a potential movie with Jean Gray's personal conflict.

That and that also unnecessarily complicates the story, since, making accounts, we have Jean, when her powers are out of control, she causes the mutants to divide each other, that the US government sees them again as a threat of new account now that add the secret alien invasion of the D'Bari. As you can see, it is impossible that they give the same importance to all these events. The film even pays more attention to humanity's eternal conflict against mutants, so the D’Bari are very wasted.

Besides, I can't stop mentioning a little inconsistency. In X-Men: Apocalypse, Jean Gray, by using her psychic powers to defeat En Sabah Nur, had awoken for a few moments the power of the Phoenix that lay within her. How is it possible that now, the Phoenix Force is now a cosmic entity that takes over it? I don't know about you, but I feel that this detail is a contradiction to what they had previously presented. Anyway.

On the other hand, I also feel that the conflict between the character of Hank McCoy / Beast (Nicholas Hoult) and Erik Lehnsherr / Magneto could be saved. On the one hand, it is very good that they have shown the pain of both by losing Raven Darkholme / Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence). But all that history does not contribute anything to the plot since almost at the end, they decide to forgive Jean Gray and protect her.

As I said before, history does not contribute much, since it uses the formula of:

Mutants do something good and the government and humans stop seeing them as a threat.

A situation happens that is out of control of the mutants, and again the government and humans see them as a threat.

Mutants fight for their survival.

A situation occurs that humans cannot control and require help from mutants.

In the end, the mutants save the day and the government and humans decide to leave them alone for a while or until they do something wrong again.

To that add an alien intervention.

In favor of the film, I will say that the scenes of Professor Xavier and Jean are one of the best achieved since you can appreciate a relationship that goes beyond the role of teacher and student. It is, in a sense, a father and daughter relationship, where the teacher, while taking some questionable steps, did so with the motivation to protect Jean from herself. And even in one scene, we have Professor Xavier admitting his mistakes and then acting and helping Jean as he should have done from the beginning. I also highlight the relationship of friends of Raven and Jean, wherein her last moments of life, Raven acted as a motherly figure, where she literally was not afraid of Jean. Sadly that action would end up costing her life.

Action: without a doubt the most remarkable thing about the movie. The action is excellently performed and has many truly memorable moments. In this case, I would like to highlight Jean again, since they did a great job in showing the extent of her powers, but that they also did not look too exaggerated. We see her practically bend soldiers, police and even mutants with just a movement of her hand or a single thought of her mind.

One of my favorite scenes is the battle on the train of the United States government, where humans and mutants rejoin to defeat the D’Bari. These action sequences are spectacular, where you can see the mutants unleash their powers. Honorable mention for Magneto, whose use of his powers are beautifully choreographed and even allowed some moments of combined style and brutality. If you did not like the characters and story, you will certainly like the action.

Visuals and special effects: Beautifully achieved. I especially highlight the visual effects to recreate the Phoenix Force, since it really looks like a matter or form of energy that you would find only in outer space. In addition, the lighting and energy that emanate from it, of reddish and magenta colors, helps to convey a sense of heat and even more of power unleashed and virtually unstoppable. Similarly, the effects are well achieved to represent transformations and uses of mutant powers.

In conclusion, X-Men: Dark Phoenix, I didn't think it was such a terrible film as critics have painted it. It is a movie that could well serve to have a pleasant time of entertainment. But that's where his problem lies: it's an average movie that you really don't miss much and that I hardly see anyone looking to have it in their collection. Most likely, it will be a movie that will be seen more in streaming services when someone has nothing better to do. Therefore, I give this movie 2.5 out of 5 Phoenix Forces. An acceptable and simple film to digest, but that falls too short to be the farewell of the universe of the X-Men.

Greetings

Rankakiu

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wheel-of-fish · 6 years

Note

Hey! Do you happen to have a masterlist of all your fics?

I do! But it never seems to load on Tumblr mobile? So here’s the list, copied and pasted, and I’ll edit/link to this post going forward. (fwiw, there are a lot of prompts here that aren’t on my FFN/AO3 accounts.)

Last updated April 11, 2024

My author accounts: AO3 | FFN

Multichapter Fics

Erik x Christine

Red Death Riding (in progress, rated M): An ambush gone awry strands Christine Daaé with one of the most notorious highwaymen of 18th-century France.

Out of the Woods (FFN | AO3 | complete, rated T): When a canoeing mishap leaves Christine stranded, she’s forced into the wilderness for help—only to find a haunting stranger who does not want to be found.

Love Is a Tired Symphony (ongoing, rated T): A collection of E/C vignettes culled from Tumblr writing prompts. Mostly fluff, some angst.

Unsung (FFN | AO3 | complete, rated M): Christine Daaé has spent eight months imagining what she might say to the Opera Ghost if she ever saw him again. Now he is here in her flat, quite by accident, and the fact of the matter is that she can no longer speak.

Restoration (FFN | AO3 | complete for now, rated T): He did not expect to meet his counterpoint on a house call, and he is shaken. Modern AU. Fourshot.

Old Haunts (complete for now, rated Explicit): Christine longs for escape from the evening’s rehearsal. A familiar figure pulls her into the walls of the opera house and offers her just that. Threeshot.

The Ivory Tower (indefinite hiatus, rated M): There are things more dangerous than accepting lessons from a dark stranger in a bell tower, things that can destroy a man’s face and his life—and Christine Daaé is soon to become intimately acquainted with them. Modern AU.

Erik x OC

By Starlight (complete, rated T): It’s her first masked ball at the Opera, and it may very well be her last when she accidentally acquires one of the Opera Ghost’s personal effects. Leroux-ish, post-canon.

Oneshots

Erik x Christine

Midnight on the Loggia (rated T): It was a year of new beginnings for Christine: a year of angels found and fallen, and of men redeemed. Fluff.

Budding Flame (rated Explicit): She will chase away the shadows from their marriage and their bed.

Turnabout (rated Explicit): Erik has evaded Christine’s touch for two weeks now, and she will not stand for it any longer. Leroux AU. Rated Explicit.

Emancipation (rated T): Christine’s angel of music wants her to join him in a sensuous world of music and darkness. Her managers want her back on stage. Her handsome childhood friend wants to court her. But what does *she* want? (Some kissing may be required to find out.) ALW Phantom, set just after Christine’s first visit to the underground lair.

Erik x OC

The Phantom and the Fawn (rated M): The fates have conspired to separate Erik from his love at his time of greatest need—and by gods, he will finally have her if it kills him. A “bonus scene” from By Starlight.

Other

Wedding-Night Reprise [FFN | AO3] (Raoul x Christine | rated Explicit): Nightfall drives the newlyweds to bed a second time. This time, though, will be different.

Ghost Resurrected [FFN | AO3] (Erik x the Persian | rated T): It finally hit him, days after he watched that dark and rail-thin figure step into a cab bound for the Opera: Erik fully expected to die.

The Red Scarf (Raoul x Christine | rated Explicit): It is isolating and wearying, this new life as a vicomtesse—but Christine’s efforts have not gone unnoticed.

Kindred Strangers (Christine x the Persian | rated K+): It was only fitting that the pair of gentle expatriates should gravitate toward each other. It was more a question of what their conviction could withstand.

Tumblr Writing Prompts

Erik x Christine

Paper Hearts, a comic-inspired birthday ficlet

Trope prompt: fairytale AU + wedding fic

Trope prompt: poorly timed confession + makeovers

Kissing prompt: A kiss in joy

Kissing prompt: A kiss, lazily

Kissing prompt: A kiss to wake up

Kissing prompt: A kiss out of envy or jealousy

Kissing prompt: A kiss because time’s run out

Dialogue prompt: “I’m scared”

Dialogue prompt: “Take off your shirt”

Dialogue prompt: “I’ve been praying for you”

What do you think Erik would get Christine for Valentine’s Day and vice versa?

Baby names

Halloween celebration

Having fun with Vine

Playing games in the cellars

Raising a daughter + Erik loses his memory

Erik in mittens (also on audio)

Erik’s got the flu and only the purest of fluff will cure him

What Erik thinks of gardening vs. what Christine thinks (also on audio)

Other

Raoul x Christine: kissing fluff

Christine + the Persian trope prompt: accidentally married + locked in a room

Prompt: post-canon modern AU in which Erik starts a senior dog sanctuary

Kindred: a Yuletide alternative to Leroux’s epilogue (for PotO Advent Calendar 2018)

Erik x the Persian dialogue prompt: “This isn’t what it looks like”

Meg x Erik dialogue prompt: “I know it hurts”

Raoul x Christine by the ocean

Pairing prompt: Erik x the Persian

Pairing prompt: Meg x Christine

Pairing prompt: Meg x Erik, platonic

Pairing prompt: Sorelli x the managers, an OT3

#Anonymous #phanfiction #writing prompt #about fish

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unpickingthetangles · 6 years

Text

Influence Tag Game

I was tagged by the wonderful @fatal-blow!! Thank you so much for giving me a platform to be this pretentious! I am deeply ashamed of myself, ahaha!!! This turned out SOOOO LONG so I am going to link to the summary of Hadrian.

Rules: Give a short summary of your WIP, name seven sources of influence on your story, and tag seven people.

Hadrian the Scholar summary.

There are probably a billion mistakes in this. I didn’t proofread it because I am running late for work. FORGIVE ME.

1. When I was 18 I got an amazing opportunity to stay with my sister in Beijing for over four months. I didn’t speak a word of Chinese or Mandarin and I was still a ridiculous teenager. I had been sheltered as a kid; the farthest I had gone outside of the US was to Niagara Falls (which doesn’t really count, right?) I went from a spacious farmhouse to an apartment no bigger than a college dorm room that I shared with my sister, my brother-in-law, and my five year old nephew. I was able to experience another culture and a people so foreign to me that I had to adjust my whole way of thinking. Best part, it was at a very influential age, so many of these new feelings stuck to me like glue. I remember going to a wedding, walking through the city at 2am, climbing parts of the Great Wall that hadn’t been reconstructed.

Oh, let me tell you the moment that really got to me. We were stay at this little freckle of a village, very small, very old. It was settled in a green valley and the Great Wall wrapped around the hills everywhere you look. My sister and I followed this trail into the mountains and came to the wall, where local men were working on keeping it standing. I sat down with a very old man and he gave me a popsicle, drew a map of the US in the loose dirt, and gestured to it. He was asking “where are you from”. And somehow over about a half an hour, I talked to this old man without speech, sharing a moment of connection over a popsicle, with this grand old structure that will outlive us both in the background. This had to be one of the most profound moments of my life, really. It was my sister (for all her many, many faults) that suggested that I write. She liked the way I used language and the way I saw Beijing. That trip has been extremely influential to me.

That’s the wall on the mountain back there!

2. I also believe the concept of ‘J.K. Rowling Revisionism’ has played a huge part in how the story’s characters have greatly evolved. Despite how you might feel on the subject, I have taken the concept of it and used it to be more inclusive with my characters. I remember seeing a post on Tumblr years ago that was said, ‘What? Did Dumbledore have to be staking around Hogwarts in a rainbow flag for you? Did he need to be playing house music and raving the whole time?’ and it listed about a dozen more egregious gay stereotypes. As a queer person I was so insulted by that. It clicked for me that ‘it takes a single throwaway line to help identify a character as (x)’. I didn’t want to play it safe anymore. I didn’t want to write ‘subtext’ and instead was compelled to make it fully ‘text’. If I wanted to read about queer people in love, I should have the wherewithal to write it myself. But I also had to think of other people who needed representation as well. I know this is more of a popular discussion today, but five years ago it was rather new, and it changed the way I write.

(Let me be specific here: Lissy and I have had numerous conversations about Rowling Revisionism and if it was (broadly considering) ‘Fair’ to criticize her for it. It is an extremely complex conversation concerning the long-lasting effects of representation or lack thereof, in my opinion. That is why I am using the word ‘concept’ here, as in it should be more of a literary discussion had by creators and not a polarizing debate set in simple black and white tones. (looking forward to the many anons I get about how it isn’t black and white.))

3. It is my belief that strong, believable characters far outweigh the plot or premise of a story. While the latter two are important, it is the characters that the reader is going to attach themselves to. A writer must introduce the idea of them as complex people in the world to get that special relationship the reader has with specific characters. The first thing I ask when I hand off my book to a beta is, “Who is your favorite character?” and I’ve gotten a different answer every time. That is a phenomenal thing! I am proud of that. When you look around fandoms, the fans are not drooling over the plots, they are defending characters and championing their causes.

With that being said, I’d say a major influence is in characters in media that made me rethink how I should approach writing characters. One of those would be the movie 12 Angry Men. If you haven’t watched it yet, I highly recommend it. This movie changed my goddamn life. Every single time I watch this movie, I find something new, something I missed the last 20 times I watched it. Hell, I watched it with Lissy once and she pointed out something so huge that I missed it. (ps. Still mad about that baby. How dare you be so clever?)

So how did that happen in a single-room mystery with 12 characters, none of which have names (save two at the very, very end) hit me so hard? How did this movie sink into me so deeply when it is mostly dialogue? I asked myself this over and over again. The answer is in the characters! At 1:10 into the film you are given a wide shot of the whole cast, a judge lazily prattling off his lines. Then the camera pans over the 12 Jurors: you see who is fidgeting, who is paying attention. Juror #5 looks off reflective of his decision to condemn a man to death, Juror #3 looks angry – why is he so angry? These are details that breathe an ever-expanding life into their characters. This whole cast is amazing, with Henry Fonda as #8 and Lee J. Cobb as #3. You know everything you need to know about them, without much backstory at all, without any grand declarations of their motivations. Hugely influential to me. It taught me that every character I write needs a strong introduction. If they are a weasel, they should be introduced as a weasel. If they are goodhearted, show an act of kindness. Hell, the first thing Hadrian does is show up at a funeral to mock the corpse. When he is introduced to Douglas’ character, he is dressed as a trickster god for a party. That tells you so much about him without putting exacting words to it.

4. While I had the meat of Hadrian the Scholar already planned out, it wasn’t until I read the works of KJ Charles that I really felt that I could be a writer and do it well. See, I’ve always been fond of those beautiful illusions like “my love for him was like a vein of gold in marble” (that’s from A Gentlemen’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, by-in-by). But I had no talent to write such pretty pretty words, not unless I work very hard at it, and even then it’s clumsy. KJ Charles doesn’t write in such a way. But what she does have is fantastic characters that react to situations in believable ways. She won’t be caught writing a character that doesn’t have his share of faults. As much as I loved A Gentle’s Guide because it is written in a style that I admire and love, it is Seditious Affair by KJ Charles that I reread the most. That’s because when I finished that book, I found that I missed the characters. It is also incidentally about two people who should be enemies because of their politics, yet they fall in love and fight for their partner’s beliefs, because they are important to their love. This basically sums it up. It really helped me think about Hadrian and Douglas’ relationship. Bless this author, seriously.

5. Waking Life is an indie film that is an interesting watch, though to me it hasn’t aged very well. However, it is this one brief segment that stuck with me most. Here is the full transcript:

Creation seems to come out of imperfection. It seems to come out of a striving and a frustration. And this is where I think language came from. I mean, it came from our desire to transcend our isolation and have some sort of connection with one another. And it had to be easy when it was just simple survival. Like, you know, "water." We came up with a sound for that. Or "Saber-toothed tiger right behind you." We came up with a sound for that. But when it gets really interesting, I think, is when we use that same system of symbols to communicate all the abstract and intangible things that we're experiencing. What is, like, frustration? Or what is anger or love? When I say "love," the sound comes out of my mouth and it hits the other person's ear, travels through this Byzantine conduit in their brain, you know, through their memories of love or lack of love, and they register what I'm saying and they say yes, they understand. But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert. They're just symbols. They're dead, you know? And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It's unspeakable. And yet, you know, when we communicate with one another, and we feel that we've connected, and we think that we're understood, I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion. And that feeling might be transient, but I think it's what we live for.

It made me think about how language is used when it is applied to complex thoughts and ideas. I took a lot of what she says about language and tried to absorb it, pick it apart, and elaborate on with my own works. What I am doing when I am writing is a grand act of translation. How can I translate my own experiences with grief onto this scene, onto these characters? How can I best write love? Or anger? How can I tell a believable story of one character’s decades of emotional abuse? I am using my own life as this huge canvas of events and painting over it with different faces, different places, different heartbeats. And then I take that canvas and show it so someone else, who then will in turn see something entirely new. Language is inert! What a concept! Complex ideas must be first translated! This is a fantastic summary of how I view writing.

6. The painting In Bed, the Kiss, by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

What a gorgeous painting, showing such an intimate moment between two people. It’s invocative of a full, well-loved life shared in love. It becomes even more powerful to me when I remember that it is widely believed that Toulouse-Lautrec only had relations with prostitutes. He had a life of health problems, having broken both is legs that did not heal properly, he was also abnormally short. Because he couldn’t participate in sporting like his friends, he turned to painting. It was a life of indifference and difficultly. Yet, he made one of my favorite paintings for its depiction of the serenity that comes with intimacy.

In the same vein, it is believed that Van Gogh was colorblind. He created some of the most recognizable paintings in the world while he was mired in depression and lonesomeness. Monet’s distinct style towards the end of his career is believed to be caused by cataracts. So much of the beauty in the world has been brought to us because of friction, tension, pain, anger, grief, depression, illness, isolation--- all the things that are believed to make the world ugly place. And yet, it was these artist’s ‘impediments’ that made their work powerful--- unique. All of creation is frustration, as said above. I believe that’s true, and it is something I think of while I write. I’m dyslexic, I make many mistakes, my relationship with language is a weird one, but I never forget that it may be the one thing that sets my writing apart. Through the struggle, I will create. My sense of humor? Because of my shitty childhood. My characters? Because for most of my life I wanted to be someone else. My writing style? Because of a reading ‘disability’. Creation is in conflict! That’s some inspirational shit right there.

7. Aaaand… Muppet Treasure Island.

Let’s see..

I will tag @queerloveandspaceships, @coveofmadness, @drderange and anyone else who wants to do it! I am sorry I am so fried after all of this.

#something I posted #text post #text #14th #June #2018 #June 14th 2018 #ask #long post #ask meme sorta #tag game #thank you again!

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letmewritemylife · 4 years

Text

Lara Johnson (Part 1)

Try to tear us apart but know that we'll wear our scars. - I Prevail (Scars)

A/N So, I've finally decided to post all my Instagram fics here on Tumblr to give a sense to this blog and don't just repost other people's stuff even though it's far better than mine. As a side note, sorry if you find any mistake but English isn't my first language and I suck at it.

TRIGGER WARNINGS Mentions of violence, death, abuse, blood, self harm, attempts to commit suicide. I don't think I'm too graphic, but be careful nonetheless.

In 1982 Alan Brown, a brilliant scientist from the suburbs of Boston, published some revolutionary studies about an unknown substance he had discovered and worked on for a couple of years. This substance, which he planned on calling after himself, seemed to have the ability to manipulate matter and was originated from a parallel dimension unknown to anyone else.

Despite the great value of his work, no one seemed interested in financing his studies, until Mark Feige offered him fifty million dollars to work with his team of scientists. Just before signing a contract with the man, Brown realized his discovery was not only revolutionary but also extremely dangerous. He understood having so much power over the structure of the universe itself was too great risk, so he left the country after burning down all his work.

Unfortunately for him, Mark Feige, businessman and head of one of the greatest terrorist organisations in the world, the Agency X, wasn't used to be denied something. His men found Brown even before he left Massachusetts, killed him and stole the last piece of unknown substance existing: a piece that was no bigger than an almond and that Brown had foolishly decided not to destroy. After naming it Substance Y, Feige used it to bring all of Brown's works back to reality. For the following year, scientists from all over the world were hired by Feige to study the Substance Y in hope to use it on his agents and get some sort of advantage on S.H.I.E.L.D, Feige's greatest enemy.

In 1983 Sean Ward and Emily Clarke got to lead the newborn Project 58 after they discovered Substance Y's radiation could be used on people not only to make them physically and mentally stronger, but also to give them powers such as matter manipulation, creation and destruction. It looked like Substance Y wasn't affected by any Physics or Chemistry law.

Tests on humans started in 1984 thanks to two volunteers, Abraham and Sandra Houghton. In less than a hour, they both became stronger than any other man or woman alive. But everything comes with a price. Abraham developed several anxiety problems and Sandra went crazy with power. Knowing she and her husband were the first enhanced humans after the well-known super soldier made her feel invincible. She forced Feige to test the Substance on children too and promised to give the scientists a child to work on.

Sandra's plan were ruined by some repeated attacks by some rival organisations, which led to a one-year gap before her son Jonathan Houghton and his little sister Lara, who wasn't even born yet, became the first children to be experimented on with the Substance Y. Forced out of her mother's belly when she was no more than a fetus, Lara was exposed to an insane amount of radiation and kept alive in an artificial machine.

When she was born on 10th November 1986, Sandra was informed Lara had not passed the tests that were supposed to confirm the effectiveness of the scientists' work. Considered by everyone just a failed experiment, the little child was given up for adoption and adopted by her parents' neighbours, Robyn and Ashley Johnson.

Robyn, a chef in a little restaurant in the centre of the city, and Ashley, employee of a bank not far from her husband's workplace, knew nothing about the baby's already tragic past, but still decided to leave their hometown in favour of New York City, where the two had found a better job not a lot of time before.

The Big Apple got to see Lara growing up in a happy and supportive family, completely unaware of her origin. She was just like every normal girl, with a great passion for science and martial arts, until everything scientists believed about her turned out being wrong. She was only fifteen when she casually found out she had inhuman abilities on the control of matter. Scared and horrified by her newfound powers, she hid them from everyone, starting from her own family, in a desperate attempt to forget about them, to get rid of them by simply ignoring them.

Constantly living in fear of being discovered, Lara developed several anxiety issues which led in high school to repeated bullying. No one, not even the leader of the bullies group Nick Millain and his sidekick Jonas Feige, could imagine the girl they were always making fun of was actually stronger than all of them combined. Years passed, Lara went to college to study chemistry hoping to become a researcher, still haunted by her hidden powers and her bullies.

Everything changed one day when Nick and Jonas assaulted Lara, pulling her hair and making fun of her. Alone in the school library with her assailants, Lara tried to push them away but accidentally knocked Jonas out with her powers. Nick stepped away with a scream, calling her a monster and saying he would inform the police about her actions. Devoured by rage, Lara punched him in the face and threatened to kill him and his friend if any of them had ever told anyone about that afternoon.

The following day Jonas disappeared. Some people said he had joined a gang in the suburbs of the city, others said he had simply quit school. Nick, on the other hand, moved to another city, finally leaving Lara alone. Those events convinced Lara even more that she couldn't control her powers and made her decide to hide them even better, controlling all her emotions to avoid instinctive reactions.

When Lara brilliantly got a degree, she accepted to work for the Stark Industries. She hated that job and she found her boss rather annoying, even though she rarely saw him, but she needed money to pursue her studies.

One day, while Tony Stark was visiting her laboratory, he saw a purple aura around her fingers. Curious to find more about it, he called her in his office and interrogated her until she admitted the truth. Tony then did something that would completely change Lara's life. He proposed her to become some sort of testimonial for the Stark Industries, using her powers to promote his company. Insulted by his proposal, Lara refused, but Tony went on trying to convince her for weeks, months, until Lara came to hate him more than her own curse.

Lara came to the conclusion she couldn't go on like that, she needed to stop Tony's annoying behaviour. She met him in an isolated place and threatened him with her powers, but lost control of them and almost killed him. The destructive magic she had hidden for too long took over her and destroyed her face, leaving deep and painful scars and making her faint. Tony ran away, believing her dead.

None of them knew that someone was spying them. Frank Linch, trainer for the Agency X, recognized in Lara the signs of the old Project 58 and brought her unconscious body to his hidden basement away from the city.

When Lara woke up, he offered her to train her and give her a work for the Agency X. Lara had no other choice: going back to her family would have meant being arrested for attempted murder. She accepted, but asked Frank to inform her parents and tell them she was doing some stage for the Stark Industries. Frank never actually told Lara's parents anything, afraid Tony would find her or someone would take Lara away from him.

Lara's training with Frank was one of the worst and most useless things had Lara ever experienced, forced to work all day long with someone who knew nothing about her powers. Furthermore Frank took advantage of her over and over, abusing her for a whole year until she found out the truth. Discovering she was missing, Lara got mad at Frank and when he tried to attack her she took one of his eyes out of the socket with her powers, before running away.

Back in New York, Lara was told her parents had gone missing as well and the police had found evidences of their death. Blamed by everyone, including herself, for what had happened, Lara mourned her family for a long time before realizing she couldn't go back to her past life. It was 2010, Tony had just defeated Ivan Vanko and Justin Hammer, her parents were dead and she had no one to go to.

After deciding to give up her powers forever, Lara covered her scars in any way she knew, created herself a new identity and joined the Agency X as a normal agent.

Amanda Ross, the woman she had become, proved herself stronger and smarter than most of her colleagues, becoming one of the best agents in her department. She met Elize Shinn, daughter of the Head of Department. Elize had been forced to work for the Agency by her father, but lacked every skill needed. She was too soft and kind to kill, she didn't have the need to get revenge that her father admired in Lara.

Despite their huge differences, the two women became great friends and Lara even confessed her who she really was and what had happened to her. After hearing her story, Elize tried to convince Lara to quit the Agency before it was too late. "You're more than some killing machine, Lara. I believe you have, deep in your heart, the ability to do beautiful things for this world."

One day during a mission, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D tried to shoot Lara, but Elize took the bullet for her. The hit was, unfortunately, lethal and Lara could do nothing but see her friend bleed out in front of her, blood soaking her trousers as she knelt next to her. Elize's father didn't cry a single tear for his daughter, who had proved herself unable to meet his standard of perfection long before.

It was Lara who cried all the tears the cold hearted man had denied Elize. She refused to do anything for days, feeling like she had stolen the life from someone who deserved it much more. She took the blame for what had happened and was haunted for months by her friend's ghost.

Her heart seemed to heal when she met Alex Main, a kind young agent who worked in her same department. She fell completely for him and was blinded by what looked like the most heavenly love she had ever felt. But Heaven's not on Earth and Lara would soon learn it.

After a period of time in which Alex had been no less than an angel, he showed his true self. It all started with sporadic insults, evil comments, exaggerated jealousy, verbal abuse, possessiveness. It ended with repeated torture, daily violence, hate sold as love and death masked as life.

Alex's violence tasted of cocaine and alcohol, blood and spit. Lara couldn't go anywhere without Alex, not even on missions. Smiling at any other man meant having her face crashed against the sink over and over. Complaining was always followed by knife cuts, sometimes light stabbing. Rape and torture became Lara's closest friends. And she prayed, she prayed to die more than once, but Alex seemed to only get entertainment from dragging her to the edge and then leaving her there, broken and torn apart.

It was not like she couldn't see what their relationship had become. She knew that wasn't supposed to be love, she knew that wasn't supposed to be okay. But she was afraid. She was afraid no one would listen to her if she spoke, she was afraid people would come after her. As time went on, a devilish voice inside her head made her believe she deserved it, she was paying for her sins.

Elize's words and her attempts to redeem Lara dried, strangled by Alex's sick conception of love in the same way as he did with his girlfriend's throat almost every night. And Lara became angrier, full of a rage she couldn't use against her executioner. All the hate she couldn't set free in the hell she lived in, she channelled it into crueler and crueler ways to kill and torture rival agents, sickenly eager to feel the way Alex felt every day with her.

All until one day during a mission Alex decided his human toy wasn't worth his attention anymore because he had found a better one. And what better way to get rid of an old object than to burn it down? He locked Lara in an empty office in the basement of a S.H.I.E.L.D base and set to whole building on fire, leaving with his new oblivious victim. When Lara understood what was happening, she felt the last pieces of her heart somehow breaking again and piercing through her flesh. With an inhuman effort, she escaped, although physically and mentally hurt.

Aware of all the pain the Agency X had brought her in just five years, she stole a car and moved to a cheap motel near Philadelphia. Desperate and alone, Lara had a violent breakdown. She screamed, cried and hurt herself over and over, until she reached for the mirror and threw it to the ground. Holding its sharp pieces in one hand, she decided to end the torture her life had become. She covered her arms, face, legs in deep cuts, her face stained with tears and her body with blood. When she closed her eyes, she hoped not to open them anymore. The light of midday woke her the following day and made her realise she was not only alive, but also that her wounds had been closed by some obscure force, probably her own powers.

For the following two years she lived dozens of lives all across the USA, all different but all characterized by one common event: attempted suicide. Lara didn't want to live, she hated herself so much that she couldn't stand to look at herself in the mirror, but somehow she always survived. There was always something, someone to drag her away from the edge, as if not even death wanted her. She tried to shut her conscience down, drinking until she passed out, getting high on the worst things, cutting her skin to pass time. Anxiety and panic attacks became more and more frequent, almost normal.

In 2017 she went back to New York and, since she missed working as a chemist, she found a part time job in a lab. There she met Alissa Ibberson, smart and extrovert woman who made it her mission to become friend with Lara, even though her colleague had pushed her away every single time.

Alissa wanted to find more about Lara, about her past and the reasons why she was the way she was, but she wasn't the only one interested in her. When she found out a little too much, she got to meet a team of agents from the Agency X, who forced her to give them Lara's location and then killed her, making it look like a suicide.

Alissa was pushed on the train rails right in front of Lara, who recognized the man who had done that terrible gesture: Frank Linch. As she ran after him, Lara was stopped by Ben, Alissa's brother, who accused her of being the cause of his sister's death because of her behaviour. Lara tried to defend herself, trying to explain to the policemen she had nothing to do with it, but Ben attacked her.

And it happened. She instinctively reacted by pushing him away with her powers. In less than a minute, she had five guns pointed to her head, people all around her murmuring and whispering insults, Ben still screaming nonsensical words at her.

But she didn't want it to end like that. It wasn't her fault for what had happened. She attacked the police with her powers, hoping to escape and finally be able to find Frank. It quickly turned into a fight.

She fought like a scared animal, who attacks because it's afraid of being killed. Furthermore Lara had no idea what she was doing: she tried to push someone out of her way but she involuntarily threw him meters away, she tried to stop the fire she had caused but it only became bigger. It was her against herself against the police.

The mess she was creating didn't go unnoticed. Lara was just about to leave when she was thrown to the ground by some golden, sparkly spell she had never seen before. When she sat up looking for whoever had cast the unknown spell, she saw a tall dark haired man walking towards her with golden circles around his clenched fists.

She quickly got up and tried to shoot fire at him, but he stopped her attack easily.

"Who are you?" The sorcerer asked after temporarily immobilizing her hands.

She threw him a deadly gaze. "That's none of your business," she spit out angrily before pulling a knee to his shin.

Freed from his spell, Lara had to face another sorcerer, shorter than the first one and with shorter hair. Fighting such powerful wizards for a long time without even knowing what she was doing was hard, but it was even harder trying not to kill anyone in the process.

Lara stared at the Asian sorcerer with terror in her eyes when she involuntarily threw him against a window and fear took the place of blood in her veins when her attempt to push a policeman away made the ground under him open in a huge hole. Stepping back, she tried to run away but was stopped once again by the tall man.

"Let me go, you idiot," she screamed against the chains he had conjured. "I'll… I'll kill if you don't." She tried to steady her voice in a futile attempt to sound confident.

"Not until you've told me who you are and what you want." He got no response but some grunts as Lara tried to fight his spell. "You can try as hard as you want, you can't fight magic that way."

Lara raised her eyes to him and clenched her teeth. "With you, it worked just fine." She threw a quick glance to the her surroundings. "But I can arrange something," she added before pushing the man against a wall and making a building fall on him. As soon as she was free, she ran away towards Frank's house.

The small building was north of the Bronx, the dark wooden door wide open. Lara stepped into the living room, the tile floor covered in dirt and garbage. She carefully avoided a can of beer, then a syringe, clothes covered in food and blood stains, balls of paper everywhere. The woman moved across the house, inspecting every room, every corner, but finding no one, nothing but chaos.

Exiting in the backyard, Lara leaned with her ear against the broken door of the small tool shed between the barbecue and the dried hedge. Slowly stepping in, Lara found herself surrounded by gardening tools and nothing more. The floor creaked under her weight as she looked around herself. She hissed in pain when her foot met the sharpness of a piece of metal, hidden between floorboards. Hesitantly reaching for what seemed to be a handle, Lara opened a manhole she had never seen before and carefully went down the ladder.

The room she entered was little and smelt of rotten meat. When she turned on the neon lights on the ceiling, they emitted a wobbly light, their noises as loud as her steps on the broken tiles. She looked around herself, wondering where she was. Moving her hand on they greyish counter, she found her fingers covered in dust.

Then her eyes were caught by a big wardrobe-like freezer, the white iron doors stained with what Lara wanted to believe was just red dye. She barely touched the cold handle, curious yet scared of what a psychopath like Frank could ever side in such a place. The moment she opened the doors, a scream came from behind her.

Lara couldn't believe her eyes. The light coloured doors hid two frozen and unstably placed bodies that not only fell down on the woman, but were also easily recognizable. They were her parents. The two bodies tortured and mishandled belonged to the people Lara had never stopped mourning, to the people she had loved more than anyone else.

"I- I can explain." The voice behind her had never been so obnoxious to her ear.

Holding back tears she got up and stepped towards the man, towards Frank. "So it was you all along." She was trying to calm down, to stop her magic from taking over again.

"They were in our way, I- I couldn't just go and tell them you had joined a terrorist organisation. I did it for you," he stuttered, slowly stepping back.

Lara clenched her jaw, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "You did it for me? You DID IT FOR ME?" She screamed, clenching her fists by her sides. "You killed them, you killed my family and I took the blame for it. I blamed myself for what you had done." She was tearing up, tears filling her eyes, ready to burst out. "You'll pay for it," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Her hands freed a purple energy, some sort of magic that slowly, so slowly began devouring Frank's skin. Centimetre after centimetre, his body was destroyed by fire, ice, acid, iron and everything Lara's rage could conjure. The room was filled with screams and crying, blood covering the floor and staining the woman's boots. She hurt him and she medicated him just to torture him longer, more harshly.

She finally took Frank's life only after almost an hour, letting his dead body fall on the floor, as destroyed and torn apart as her inner self. Having lost control of her powers, she let magic destroy the room around her slowly but tirelessly.

Stepping back, she let out a scream before kneeling on the ground, tears streaming down her face. The foundation that had covered her skin dripped down her cheeks, revealing the bloody mess her face had become. Anger and sadness melt in a desperate, ugly cry, occasionally interrupted by screams and death begs.

"What happened?" An uncertain voice echoed in the destroyed room.

Lara looked up from the floor to meet the sight of the tall sorcerer she had met at the train station. Breathing heavily, she didn't dare looking at him in the face. "I thought you were dead."

The man slowly stepped towards her, who instinctively got up like an animal surprised by a predator while it was laying under the sunlight.

"I could help you," he said calmly.

"I don't need your help." Her voice trembled. "You can't take this away from me," she added, "no one can."

The sorcerer's eyes darted to her fingers, that were now covered by a weak purple aura. Everything happened fast. Lara tried to use her powers to cut her chest open, but the man stopped her and immobilized her to the floor with his magic and his body.

"What the f*ck do you want from me?" She screamed at him, trying in vain to move the sorcerer from on top of her and free her hands from his tight grip.

"Now you listen to me," he said, completely ignoring her question. "Why didn't you kill me?"

Lara shrugged. "Do I look like someone who knows what she's doing?"

The man sighed. "You stopped that building from collapsing on me. You could've killed me but you didn't. There must be a reason why."

"I wouldn't trust her too much if I were you, wizard. You'll end up just like her friend over there." The deep voice of a man drew the two's attention to the other side of the room. An agent was standing there with a gun pointed to the sorcerer's head, surrounded by other four people.

The sorcerer stood up as golden circles formed around his hands. "Do I know you?"

The agent smirked. "No, but she does." He threw a glance at the bloody mass that once was Frank and then turned to Lara. "You better come with us if you don't want us to get rid of you and your friend."

Lara got up, looking attentively at the agents forming a circle around them. "Kill me then."

A blonde woman attacked Lara with a knife, but she punched her in the face and pulled a knee to her stomach. She nudged the following agent, before another one wrapped his arms around her from behind, immobilizing her. She headed him and turned to face him, punching him on the jaw. When he tried to punch her back, she stopped his hit and turned his arm around just enough to earn a suffocated scream of pain from him. Looking behind herself, she found the other agents had disappeared. She heard a hiss and turned just in time to see the guys she had fought falling down golden portals.

"I took the liberty of sending them to the closest police station," the sorcerer commented.

She nodded not convinced. Looking just beyond where the agents had been, Lara met the sight of the two very well-known corpses and felt tears coming to her eyes again. "Whatever. You're the sorcerer, not me." Her voice cracked for the first time, but she didn't dare admitting it.

The cold air coming through the open manhole sent shivers down her spine, her dark shirt not warm enough to protect her from the cold of the incoming winter. She took a deep breath and brought her hand to her mouth, trying harder and harder not to cry, not again, not in front of a total stranger.

"I'm sorry." The sorcerer whispered, getting closer but not too much.

Lara blessed the distance between them that wasn't allowing him to see her tears. "It's okay, I'm- I'm used to it," she answered, her voice rougher than usual.

"You don't deserve to."

Those words hit Lara like daggers. She suddenly turned, clenching her fists hard enough to feel her nails digging in her palms. "How are so sure?" She screamed, completely ignoring the fact that she was destroying all her attempts to mask her sadness. "You have no idea what I've done 'cause if you did, you wouldn't be here with me." She buried her hands in her hair. "My parents are dead because of me, as well as hundreds of other people, and you act like you know how it feels, but you really don't." She took a deep breath. "Or at least I hope so," she concluded, her sad tone cracked by an incoming rave of emotions.

The man let out a breath before crossing his arms on his chest. "And that's where you're wrong. I perfectly know how it feels not being able to cope with losses and taking the blame for what you can't control."

Lara breathed out a laugh at the impossibility of what he had just said. He didn't look like the type of person who had done a lot of things to be guilty of. "Listen, it was kind of you coming here and pretending you actually cared about a total stranger, but now you better go." She crossed her arms on her chest. "Unless you want to end up like any of these people, of course."

"And what if I wanted to help you?"

She threw him a confused look. "I'm sorry?"

He stepped closer to her. "You heard me. You're obviously not okay and you have obviously no control over whatever your powers are."

She sighed. "And how are you going to explain the police you want to be my therapist, mister-?"

He was fast to reply. "Doctor Stephen Strange, and you don't have to worry about that. Do you want me to help you or not?"

She stared at him for a second, examining his face. Was his offer too good to be true? Probably, but his blind confidence in his abilities made it convincing. What other choices did she have? Waiting for a bunch of incompetent agents to kill her in her sleep and throw her body in the nearest river? She didn't want it to end like that. She wouldn't have allowed it.

She shrugged. "I seriously doubt it'll work, but okay, if it makes you sleep better."

She looked for a moment away from him, unsure whether she should tell him her real name or not. Go on pretending or give up the role she had played for too long? Could she trust him with her name, something she had hid from everyone for years, desperately trying to bury a life that she herself had destroyed?

"I'm Lara Johnson," she finally said, deciding to shut down the devilish voices in her mind for once.

#lara johnson #agata varano #scar #marvel #mcu #oc #writing #original character #mcu fiction #oc fiction #lara johnson backstory #stephen strange x original character

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zologe · 7 years

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This makes my skin crawl

Hello there, fellow tumblrs!

I’m just gonna go out there and say this right now: I’m gonna rant about Cultural Appropriation and how stupid it is to think that it’s a hatecrime. So if you’re an SJW, just go ahead and read this, I don’t care what you think.

For starters, let’s get into who I am. I’m a white, cishet male from Sweden, with finnish and russian roots (The latter’s pretty far back though). With that out of the way, let’s get into why I think people going out and saying X Race can’t go wear Y Race’s Clothing and so on is a stupid and childish idea that should’ve been abolished long ago.

For those of you fortunate souls who have not heard of what Cultural Appropriation is, let me tell you what it means. It’s basically when members of one culture steals the traditions, foods and art from another culture and “Appropriates” it into their own. Pretty simple, yes? Well, not exactly. Because the SJW party, and anyone who really supports this idea of making it illegal is using the term wrongly, for starters. Just because I, a swedish, white man decide to dress up like a native american doesn’t mean I’m appropriating their culture. I’m not physically preventing them from wearing their clothing or practicing their beliefs. But that’s what the SJW’s want you to believe that you’re doing. In a sense, they want a sort of “Copyright” system for cultures and traditions, which is very hard to enforce.

Okay! Now you know what it is, and what it affects, let's take a look at how this would affect EVERYONE! And of course, why I think branding it as racist is the stupidest and most (ironically enough) racist fucking idea to ever grace tumblr, or whatever other places you may go to.

Let's play with the thought that for some reason this idea was accepted into an international sociey. Consuming basic things like Beer, Pasta, Thai Food and Saké etc. would be considered to be xenophobic by SJW standards, which to me is a preposterous idea. I’m not taking these away from you by eating or drinking any of it, ye? I mean, you can drink just as much Saké as I can. Now taking or placing the credit on some other culture entirely can cause problems, that I will admit. Like saying for instance that Vodka comes from Germany, when it is in fact a Russian drink, to make a ludicrus example. THAT is actual appropriation. But if I sit down, and wear something non-religious, like say a kimono or get myself some sick dreadlocks or cornrows, that’s not appropriation, as I’m not claiming or taking it away from the culture it comes from. That’s me appreciating that culture, unless I’m really making a mockery out of it, I.E Making something similiar to that of a blackface about it. Then it’s racist.

Calling cultural sharing racist is a silly notion. We’re all humans, in the end. We are all the same, regardless of where we are from, or where we go. If I wanna go dress like an ancient egyptian pharaoh for halloween, let me do so without screeching like a god damn harpy. I’m not doing it to be mean. I’m doing so because it’s a cool and creepy aesthetic which works very well for a halloween atmosphere. An ancient, mummified royal sounds pretty interesting and cool to me. I love the egyptian history, as it’s so rich and different from the culture of Surströmming (which is fucking disgusting, may I add) Kräftskivor and so on that I grew up with. Is it so wrong to reach out and try new things, if only for just a little bit? I love Thai food, I love Pasta and Babootie (That’s a south-african dish, by the way. Freaking amazing stuff. Try it out.) I’m not gonna throw a hissyfit because people wanna dress up as Vikings for some holiday or wear Thor’s hammer as a piece of Jewelry.

And don't come and say that Whites have no culture. We have a very rich culture spread across multiple countries in Europe. I've already stated a bunch of examples of white culture above. Scottish garb, beer, wine, rum, vodka, knighthood, classic fantasy, sci-fi, the foundations of your liberalist ideas come from France even for christ’s sake. The list goes on and on! And before you say that white cultures can't be appropriated, you blatantly stand by that disgusting double standard that it only applies when whites does it, and no one else. White cultures have been oppressed in the past (Sure, by other whites, but oppressed nontheless) but that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist or hasn't existed in the past. Want a current day example? Look at Ireland. It's arguably one of the most oppressed white societies in modern day. Want something less recent? Look at the Nazi Holocaust. Jews were being hunted like animals and put into slave camps. I am pretty sure that whatever oppression your race has been through, it's not been NEARLY as bad as what the jews have gone through over the millenia. And they are white... for the most part anyway. Now, if some of you out there want to adopt some scandinavian viking culture, go ahead. I'm not gonna be offended if you wanna drink mead or dress up like a lanky, black viking, or what have you. And you shouldn't be offended either when someone respectfully dresses up in your culture's clothing, or eats traditional food which has it's origins from wherever else. It's childish and stupid. You're getting angry over something that should be positive. Making the world more aware of what other cultures bring only makes us less racist. By separating cultures from oneanother, we’ll only breed more xenophobia. The less we have to do with eachother, the more we’ll start to resent oneanother. Of course, there are other causes for racist and fascist behaviours than just being separated from another culture.

But here’s a good example of how a racist mind could be born. Let’s say for instance that you live in a society where just recently some green-skinned humanoids immigrate. You’ve had absolutely zero interaction or experience with them before. And the first thing you see is one of them robbing and stabbing one of your own before running away. The Human brain likes to put things into categories, or stereotypes for easier management. That way, when you see something new, you make a new “file” which you can easily access later with information you’ve gathered regarding this paticular subject. This very fact has been proven several times in psychological studies. So after seeing this man commit this crime, you, subconsciously, start to think that perhaps all green-skinned men are somewhat into crimminal behaviour. This isn’t necessarily true, but since you have only this bit of experience with this alien race, you of course start treating them according to your experience. It’s not that hard to grasp, really.

So, the main cause for racism is indeed ignorance. Ignorance we would breed by separating us from oneanother, and only hanging out with our own. Why do you think the whites saw themselves as superior to the other races when we first met? Because our culture at that stage was more advanced and perhaps civilized due to the opportunities we’ve had, that others may have lacked. We didn’t know much about these new people and as such, we began to think that we were superior, and started bossing around with the poor blacks, which was a horrible thing to do.

If any form of Cultural Appropriation became a punishable crime worldwide, it would have the REVERSE effect of what you self-proclaimed ”Social Justice Warriors” want. Because with that, you would create “Culturally Isolated” societies, where eventually people would get racist. I get it, I get where you want this to go. A Racist-free society, yeah? Well, Racial and Cultural segregation is not the way to go. As I discussed earlier, racism is grounded in ignorance and fear of another race, which gives birth to the hate and what have you. If we shut cultures away from eachother, it would only reinforce that fear and ignorance, which is not what we want, yes? So why not open our doors instead, let people in and allow them to understand why your culture dresses up the way they do, why it's food is so significant... Our international society would be so much healthier if we could all just embrace our differences and allow anyone to partake in whatever they want, so long as it's not Physically or economically hurting someone else. I'm sorry if your feelings are hurt, but this bullshit makes my skin crawl. I hate having people tell me what I can and cannot do because of my skin color, sexual orientation or gender. And so should you.

And that's why I think treating Cultural Appropriation as racism is stupid. I don’t see any racists indulging in other cultures. Do you? Did the KKK have dreadlocks? Do white supremacists wear Burkas? NO! They pushed away that, because it belonged to a culture they hated and believed themselves to be superior to. Appropriating another culture isn’t racism. It’s preventing that racism.

#cultural appropriation #it is wrong

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conservative-eclectic · 7 years

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What my Intro was apparently supposed to be almost a year and a half ago

If I remember correctly I wrote separately about resolutions and the 100 block technique here. In fact, I believe I wrote about my resolution, the 100 block technique, before I wrote a thing about resolutions. It feels like it’s been ages, yet I have the privileged opportunity to have less and less concept of time ⎻ especially when it comes to Conservative Eclectic.

I’ve had my phone completely off for at least a week, the laminated 100 blocks remains blank and on the floor, and the Self-Authoring Suite sits unopened. (The real resolution is Krapp’s Last Tape - which I will talk about next time I think/I hope). In fact my email where I would go get it remains unlogged-in for I have no idea how long. I’ve been putting off calls to B.R.E.A.D. But at least there are shelves and rails on the kitchen wall, which was a more difficult, and at time, harrowing ordeal, than you might think, or, if you are experienced in these things, than you might know for yourself. I also have gotten into a little routine (at least the start of one), now that I don’t drive Amanda to work. While it was the remains of my social life, the bakery girls aren’t what they used to be anyway. (not in the way you’re thinking) So now I start the day by “accidentally” immersing myself in some kind of (increasingly redeeming) media until about 11am, or some other unreasonable late morning time (depending on what time Amanda goes to work). The majority of that time spent on the toilet. Then I spend too much time on breakfast. This is not what I had in mind necessarily, and for the first time thinking of it now, must take an average of 10-15 of the 100 blocks. Actually it doesn’t sound too bad when I put it that way.

But there’s always time for new beginnings. That’s the beauty of procrastination. And joblessness. Hopefully Ohio doesn’t propose any work mandate until I finish the house. As in the last post, we continue with a post written for a different time ((the double parenthetical italics rule is also the same as last time)). This one was labeled as INTRO and is dated at 9/23/16:

My age is a microcosm of our age. We are stuck between an early onset of the decrepitudes of old age and both the self-denial and pure desire of adolescence. Our ‘masters’ have so mastered the art of opiates for the masses that we are a society of addiction unawares. We are addicted to anything as individuals, everything as society, but for the things that would do us good. The vehicles that deliver our opiates were promised as deliverers of these good goods: community, discussion, problem solving, transparency, accountability, participation. Instead, the progression of mass media has brought us an intensification of opposites: apathy, anonymity, dishonor, confusion, hate, mob-like behavior, and isolation. 

 I believe that we’ve got here by “knowing just enough to be dangerous” as a society. Advances in Psychology and it’s dark-side-art, marketing, have provided newer and newer ways to take advantage of people. The tools to do this, if not obvious now, or to all, I think will soon be so obvious, we will look and wonder at not only our victimhood, but at that first period of Shangri-La when it was free, useful and eventually important enough to people to be taken advantage of. That turning point will be studied and debated. Ok, when did this happen to TV, the internet, politics, literature, journalism, higher education, art? Pop music would be an interesting early example of machine failure; this is what happens when the transition fails, takes too long, or is not universal. Once the transition is made can it make a long way back, or is it either “useful” or ignored. It is definitely ignored for a period at least, because we are living that period now. It remains a powerful opioid, yet is stubbornly independent still.

The abstract arts are progressively resistant to this. Now, the question becomes, is it as simple as natural resistance, or is it an area remaining to be mastered by the masters of marketing? Is it just more difficult or is it impenetrable? 

Although, it may provide a hint to a solution, even using the opiates against the masters, for instance, showing real evidence of oppression turns into another opiate. ((i.e late night comedy news)) Discussion devolves into entertainment when entertainment could be used to provoke discussion. Please keep in mind, possibly none of what I mention, probably most are perfectly harmless, even useful, uplifting or edifying when not used as a tool toward mass apathy. It is important to remember that all of this had that stage where it was new and/or beautiful, maybe 25 years for television, maybe 10-15 years for the internet, maybe 100 years + for journalism. It is, like the example above, when the mode of natural communication is reversed, flipped, turned around or distorted, that these become latent, even invisible, tools of oppression. These dark geniuses of marketing can not only do it without you noticing, but can make you think it never got distorted and you are engaging in useful and deeply human communication.

This rampant metastasizing concept that equality as a human right equates it with human nature and therefore a fact of nature, rather than something to be fought for, is a current struggle with this. There is a prevalent idea that the most obviously harmful ideas must have an equal position at the marketplace of ideas, because it’s my opinion, and you have to respect that. ((false equivalencies abound)) This allows facts to be ignored, pragmatism to be frowned upon and true idealism to be mocked ((while harmful ideology is given equal footing)). At the same time it is so powerful that I am frightened enough by the notion of possible implication of censorship in that penultimate sentence, that I am reticent to express it. Maybe there’s a better way to say it, but maybe it’s just a more innocuous way to say it, rendering it harmless, useless and expressionless. ((stories perhaps?))

 The machine is advanced enough that it is quite like a literal, complex machine. It selects your opiate for you. Porn for a young population, music for a young black population, TV for baby boomers,“tv” for “generation X and/or Y,” twitter for the “millennials,” anger, from TV, radio and internet for the "greatest” generation. ((there sons and daughters mostly by now - maybe we should call it the worst generation, or the used-to-be-fine generation, or the fox-news generation?)) You might be telling yourself that you don’t fit into any of those cause and effects. No doubt you will be surprised that I think you are probably right. Because it is a complex machine, it will find the thing for you, for example: tumblr for certain people, wikipedia for others, fox news for most older white men, but HGTV for their wives maybe, sports radio for others of that generation, spreading younger. For all of us who proudly declare “I don’t have a tv” and somehow honestly don’t participate in the netflix, hulu revolution, it could be harmful religiosity, fundamentalism of all kinds, ((2 most harmful free-market fundamentalists and the singularitists)) fake political movements, nostalgia or movies. I, of course, haven’t even scratched the surface. It is quite literally, pick your poison.

#politics #self-help #kitchenstyle #brain washing #marketing #psychology

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