#this might make no sense but i had to pour my brain out sorry

[mrbinglee]

[his dark materials 3x03 and 3x04 spoilers]

i thought it was interesting the way the show adapted this quote from the book in 3x03 (the parts the show used are bolded):

“I have never known [the alethiometer] so confused,” she said. “There was lots of things it said. I think I got it clear. I think so. It said about balance first. It said the knife could be harmful or it could do good, but it was so slight, such a delicate kind of a balance, that the faintest thought or wish could tip it one way or the other… And it meant you, Will, it meant what you wished or thought, only it didn’t say what would be a good thought or a bad one.”

—the amber spyglass, ch.14

in the book, the question iorek tells lyra to ask is whether or not he should repair will’s knife. in the show, the question he tells her to ask is whether or not she should go to the land of the dead once the knife is repaired, pivoting the moment from being only about will to being about both will and lyra - both of their thoughts and wishes that could tip the balance.

i liked that the show expanded the scope of the quote, but i was still a tiny bit disappointed that they left out the last bit: “...only it didn’t say what would be a good thought or a bad one.” the thought, the wish that tips the balance, that makes it fall - the inevitable fall - the alethiometer says, it’s not fated to be good or bad, it’s up to them, it’s their choice of what to make of it. it’s like in the beginning of the subtle knife when lyra asks the alethiometer whether will is a friend or an enemy, and it tells her, “he is a murderer.” the alethiometer doesn’t actually answer the question; it doesn’t tell her will is a friend or an enemy, because it tells the truth, and the nature of her and will’s relationship isn’t a set truth, it’s up to them. it’s their choice. (@amazalina explores this more thoroughly and eloquently here.) anyway so i do wish they had kept that last bit

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! Absolutely love your writing :) Would you be willing to do a enemies to lovers but with hero x villain? Maybe with like a controlling villain and the hero secretly likes it but is defiant externally? Sorry idk if that made sense lol

Thank you in advance though if you're able to!

"You can't just keep crashing my dates."

The villain glanced over their shoulder, raising an eyebrow in a mimicry of an emotion that didn't quite reach their eyes. "No?"

"No." The hero stalked closer, stopping in front of the villain, in time for them to turn. "I'm not yours."

"No?"

"No!" The hero's heart gave a little skip, at the possibility that the villain would then look at them and then say (in a growl, or devastatingly matter-of-fact, or in a teasing purr) 'yes, you are' or 'you're most certainly mine'. The villain had done it before.

The villain tilted their head, offering the hero one of the two glasses of wine they had just poured.

The hero took it, anticipating.

The villain didn't say anything, simply watching them as they took a steady sip.

The hero's face burned but they refused, stubbornly, to look away.

The villain set their glass down on the counter behind them. No rush.

The hero imagined the villain grabbing them, kissing them, as they had done before too. Twirling them, glass flying and wine sloshing, and pressing them up against the nearest flat surface. They would change every no to yes and please and more.

They both knew the routine, the dance of it. It didn't need saying.

"Your dates look increasingly like me," the villain murmured. "Have you noticed?" Their hands stayed, agonisingly, at their sides, as they leaned lazy against the counter.

The hero blinked, not expecting the comment. They took a sip of the wine instead of replying, hoping that perhaps an equally steady silence might come across as cool and mysterious instead of flabbergasted.

The villain smiled. "Say please."

"W-what?"

"Say please if you want me to screw your pretty brains out until you can't think straight."

The hero spluttered. "That's not - I'm not - that's not why I'm here." They undoubtedly would say please, but it had never been so close to the start, so when there wasn't any excuse they could possibly give for the desperate needing of it.

"No?"

"No." The hero swallowed.

"So you don't go on your little dates just to wind me up?" The villain finally straightened, taking a step closer.

The hero stepped back, but didn't run, didn't want to. Mesmerised. Their mouth felt very dry. "No." Such a lie.

The villain's smile grew. "You don't secretly wish I'd kiss you, claim you, in front of all of them?"

"No." The hero jutted their chin up. "I'm not a thing to be claimed."

The villain advanced; the hero back-tracked.

"You don't," the villain continued, a honeyed murmur, "say no, because you love all the ways I can persuade you. Because then you can pretend you don't want this. Because you like watching me take control of you."

The hero's back hit the wall. Miraculously, the wine didn't spill, still clutched uselessly in one hand.

"No."

"Mm." The villain set their palms on either side of the hero's shoulders, and the hero felt the very air between them might start vibrating with the urge to close the gap. "Perhaps I'll never crash one of your dates again then."

The thought was unbearable. The villain was bluffing, right? They had to be bluffing.

The hero wet their lips. The villain's gaze dropped to follow the movement, then flicked back up to the hero's eyes.

"You're a bastard," the hero whispered, because it was true and it wasn't no.

"Why yes," the villain's eyes gleamed, "I am." They waited.

The hero's stomach squirmed. "Are you actually going to make me say it?"

"I thought I didn't control you. I thought you weren't mine."

The hero shivered.

"So how could I," the villain leaned in to the hero's ear, still not quite touching, "possibly make you do anything?"

"...please."

"What was that, love?"

"I hate you."

"Do you?" The villain's lips finally pressed against their skin, kissing down their neck.

"Yes. So much." The hero's head fell back, offering more of their throat. The wine glass drooped in their hand.

"Don't spill on my floor."

The wine glass righted with titan concentration. There was nowhere to put it down.

The villain kissed them; soft, so soft, a promise of so much more to come.

"Would you like me to stop?" the villain asked against their lips.

"...no."

"No?"

"No."

The villain hummed and kissed them again, a little harder. The wine glass wobbled treacherously in the hero's hand once more. The hero's other hand clutched the villain's shoulder.

"I think we're done with the stage in our relationship where you pretend to date other people," the villain said, when they pulled back, breathless. They caught the hero's chin, and their stare was, for a moment, serious.

The hero scrambled past the kiss-drunk haze, brow furrowing. "It's actually bothering you?"

"No," the villain said, in the same tone that the hero said no, meaning yes.

"Okay." The hero leaned in to kiss them, just once, reassuring.

Tension eased out of the villain's shoulders. The wicked playfulness returned, and they shoved the hero back against the wall again. The next kiss was a consuming, hungry thing, and the hero could only chase after more than they were given, gasping.

The villain nipped the hero's neck, before giving a chiding click of their tongue. It once again sent an anticipatory shiver of delight down the hero's spine.

"Oh, would you look at that," the villain said, with soft and bewitching menace. "You spilled my wine. However shall I make you pay me back for that?"

"Make me?" The hero bit their lip. "You think you can make me do anything? Please."

The villain grinned.

There were no more dates with other people after that.

[the-s1lly-corner]

TADC characters x reader crying and the characters are trying to calm the reader down

TADC cast finding the reader crying!

WOOOOOO so sorry for not getting to requests sooner, i was busy today and caught up in doing a bunch of baking orders! yahoo! i made a buncha scones today and churros :)! i might make pretzels tomorrow for myself also ive never watched one piece but im absolutely obsessed with chopper VV

CAINE:

"now now my dear, what's wrong?" immediately takes you off to a private area away from prying eyes and ears. surprisingly a good listener, i mean he cares about you so so much, youre like. his number one, so of course hes going to be looking out for you. tries his best to cheer you up, regardless of whats making you so upset; another circus member, being overwhelmed, or your brain just being mean... this man would literally carry the world for you.. well a digital world, but the sentiment still stands i think..! just say the word and hes going to do whatever it takes to cheer you up!

POMNI:

very awkward comforter, i think i might have said this somewhere; in fact i may have had a similar request to this a while ago but i truly do not remember and i cant be bothered to look through the sea of TADC stuff ive written... but she would be SO bad at comforting people; like she just stands there before awkwardly patting your back. and thats assuming she goes through with the action, theres a solid chance she just. asks outright if youre okay in this nervous voice trying to be gentle. its not her fault i prommy, shes just bad at comforting people. offers to take you to her room so you have some privacy, kind of just lets you let it all out

RAGATHA:

again i might be biased for ragatha because ive really fallen in love with her since i opened up requests but she would be the absolute queen of comfort. speaks in a really soft voice as she takes you off to yours or her room, sets you down on the bed and lets you lean on her for support (metaphorically and literally!). gives you the softest blankets and pillows, and simply lets you pour your heart out. asks if you want comfort or solutions; because both have their time and place i think. sometimes you want solutions, and sometimes you just want pure comfort. ragatha gets it. and whichever one you want, shes going to deliver on it! will likely take it upon herself to try to solve the issue if its an external thing that made you upset. 10/10 love her

JAX:

believe or not i think he would be the type to try to confront the thing upsetting you yourself, especially if it was someone who had upset you. best way i can explain it is like. you know that one pizza episode of spongebob where squidward stands up for spongebob to that rude customer who made him cry? it would have the same energy, i think. asshole who actually has a heart stepping in to defend someone when there needs to be justice type deal. now if he was the one who made you upset, say by one of his pranks, then it might take him a minute for the guilt to kick in but it would be there... eventually. does feel bad, tries to cheer you up and does try to apologize, i think

KINGER:

oddly enough i think he would be up there in terms of how good he is with comforting people! i say odd because he seems so out of it a lot of the time. but i think the second he sees your tears hes just laser focused. very similar to ragatha in terms that he takes you away and lets you speak. to the pillow fort! lets you cry into the fur of his robe, too... rubs circles into your back. this man carries the same level of comfort that sweet old people carry, if that makes sense. the type of person so say "ive got you" when comforting someone, i think

ZOOBLE:

has to do a double take when they see you crying. like pomni i think theyre bad at comforting... but not as much, if that makes sense. if it was someone who had made you upset, they probably try to tell you that they arent worth the time of day and that youre better than them. strikes them with the curse of them also giving you awkward back and shoulder pats, but its even more awkward and uncomfortable because they have weird hard plastic hands. look, ok. theyre trying, theyre likely trying their best too- honestly i think their main form of comfort is talking shit about the person or thing that made you feel bad

GANGLE:

honestly she might cry with you. admittedly i dont see gangle herself being the best comforter when someone is crying; especially if its someone she cares so deeply about. i think like everyone else, she would gently take her hands in yours and guide you off to the side so you can have some privacy and decency. she does try her best to try to cheer you up; and i think that she would have better luck with it if her comedy mask isnt broken! but if it is, its likely that shes going to cry with you. probably leads to vent sesh between the two of you where you vent to one another and cry. hey, that works too, i think! not to say that she is trying to purposefully trying to make it about herself too, but like. her way of empathizing with you. "oh hey we're both having a bad day, let me show how i can relate to you so you feel less alone" type deal

[sorencd]

CAPTIVATED

pairing: steven meeks x reader

summary: dancing in the rain with steven.

word count: 1k

a/n: OOH MY LOOOOOVEEEE U DONR HAVE TO LIDTEN TO A WOOOOOORD I SAY anyway song is captivated by iv of spades!

masterlist

ooh, my love.

heavy clattering resounded throughout the room you currently situated in, the rain outside was pouring densely and each drop that slid down the window gave you a sense of comfort. you were huddled in bed, waiting for steven to return from his trip to the kitchen. he offered to make a cup of hot chocolate for the two of you, and obviously, you accepted. the song that was currently playing in the background to occupy the silence was starting to get repetitive─ so you groggily got up to change the record that was playing on the turntable and glanced at the vast collection of vinyls you had that sat beside it. you chose the song ‘a big hunk o’ love’ by elvis presley and removed it out of the sleeve to play it. you really loved this particular song of elvis, not only because the tunes were catchy, but if you really listened to the lyrics closely, it’s composed of sweet verses that sometimes get overlooked because everyone is too busy grooving to the music, and you weren’t an exception.

you could hear feet approaching the room you were in while you were grooving to the tunes the turntables was playing. it was steven, he was holding two mugs of hot chocolate and an equally warm smile on his face.

“sorry i took so long, i forgot i put the stove on low.” he placed down his mug on the bed side table and handed you yours, to which you gratefully accepted.

you sipped onto the mug with a thankful smile and looked out the window, taking notice that the rain outside has mellowed down.

“aw, the rain’s about to go away.” a glum sigh escaped your lips as you took another sip. you loved the rainy weather, though the song you two were listening to right now doesn’t exactly match the atmosphere─ it still provided you with a sense of comfort that you’d always bask in without hesitation.

“that could be a good thing, we could visit the library once it's gone away." he suggested. a library date does sound nice, you missed the old scent of books, the quiet surroundings it came with, and the kind old lady you'd always see manning the front desk. you might just take him up on his offer.

but the conflicting thoughts that reverberated in your brain didn't want to stop, just like how you wished the same for the rain. you whined as you flopped down on the bed after steven comfortably sat down, now you laid there beside him. "but the rainnn, you know?"

you don't have to listen to a word i say.

his laugh mixed in with the music that was booming from the turntable, but you were able to discern his voice amidst elvis'. steven understood where you were coming from, since he too also loved the rain and all the glory it came with. he looked out the window and brashly gave you a grin, an idea popping into his mind.

"you wanna try dancing in the rain?"

"dancing in the rain?" your face twisted in mild confusion. you understood what he was saying, but you couldn’t quite comprehend each word. dancing in the rain? it was about time he asked you to waltz with him during a storm.

"yeah. come on, it'll be amazing! the weather right now is just perfect." he pointed a finger outside, the rain wasn't pouring as hard as it was a few minutes ago, but at just the right amount. it seemed like even the weather liked the idea.

"we better go outside now before it fully stops!" you hurriedly hopped out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets that tangled your feet but luckily steven was there to swoop in a steady you before you were able to kiss the floor, briskly following suit to your rapid speed-walking.

you opened the front door and marveled at the scenery in front of you─ the sun was ever so slightly peeking from the clouds and shined it's brightly-hued rays while the rain drops continued to delicately fall from the sky, everything was so pristine, you loved it. steven, who was admiring the view from behind you, took a hold of your hand and led you to the front of your house, not bothering to put on a coat because it wouldn't be as fun to dance without it. as you touched the pavement and left the front porch that was protecting you from the rain, you felt the rainfall make contact with your skin. instantly making you feel cooled off.

cause all that really matters is that i love you,

"may i have this dance?" steven bowed as he politely offered his hand towards you and with a glowing grin. it felt like everything right now was fresh out of a movie. if only you knew earlier that the love of your life would ask you to dance with him in the rain, you would've hired a photographer to catch the moment forever.

you giggled at his gesture and gladly held his hand, mirroring his movement and bowed yourself. "i'm not really good at dancing."

he drew you closer by taking both your hands and instead of the gracious motion you were expecting him to do, he instead lively shuffled about as water splashed onto the both of you. his dancing reminded you of the song you were listening to previously, both electrifying and energetic. "you don't need to know how to dance, just have fun!" he ended with a laugh.

you smiled, matching his actions as best as you can. now there were two idiots dancing in the rain, it was romantic. both of you flailing your arms into the air as you held onto one another, the downpour continuing to cascade onto the both of you. the feeling of droplets running down your arms and legs felt amazing. he was amazing. his smile that was on par with the sun's luminosity, his dancing skills that radiated delight. it all made you happy. and in the next few days, it also made you sick. it's a good thing you have steven to take care of you.

i really do.

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[miss-madness67]

The Law Firm (Sam one-shot)

Prompt: You start a new internship and your boss is kinda hot.

If I were to be even more nervous than I am right now, I would probably be shaking like a leaf. My hands are sweaty as I approach clumsily the entrance of the building. The first time I came here, was two weeks ago, when I had the interview for the internship position. If it wasn't for my nearly neat résumé, I might have not gotten the job. I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, and it clearly was showing on the day of the interview. 

This is the moment I've been waiting for throughout my whole career; when I get to put into practice my knowledge about the law. Even if it means starting as an intern pouring coffee for my boss. Whom I have yet to meet. In the interview, they told me that I’d be working under one of the senior lawyers to learn and observe. Then, if I do a good job, they might consider promoting me to a junior lawyer. I am really excited about the things to come. Perhaps too much because as I climb up the steps of the building in a hurry, I almost fall over. A steady hand in my arm stabilizes me enough to gather my bearings.

“Oh, thank you, I'm sorry.” I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

“No problem,” I finish dusting off my pants and look up to the voice’s owner that saved me from embarrassment.

My face lights up a deep shade of pink at the gorgeous man who stares at me. He's quite tall, possibly the tallest of the people around us. His hair is long, shaggy, and brown. His eyes are warm and inviting. This man is possibly the most handsome one I've encountered in my whole life. When I come to the realization of this fact, I notice that he is still holding my arm and, as well as me, he’s scrutinizing my appearance.

With a light chuckle, he lets go of me. “We wouldn't want you falling to the ground, would we?” He points at the coffee I hold in my hand. Luckily, it didn’t spill.

“No, of course not.”

For a sweet moment, none of us say anything. Normally, I would thank him again and leave, but there’s something pulling me to make this interaction last longer. So I introduce myself with the most confidence I can muster. He seems to like my approach because he smiles brightly at me.

“I'm Sam Winchester.” The name tries to wake something deep in my brain, but my overly restless self cannot comprehend what it is.

“Nice to meet you! Are you new here?” I don't know what prompts me to ask such a question, maybe it's a desire not to be the only one starting today in a new environment.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to go inside.

“Well, you could say that.”

“Great!” I beam at him. “That way I won't be the only one.”

He can hear the relief in my voice. “Come on, I'm sure it won't be that bad.”

I nod enthusiastically, “I know, but I always get super nervous on my first day.”

Sam smiles sympathetically. There’s something akin to hesitancy when he says: “I’m sure your boss won’t be so hard on you.”

I shrug, “I haven’t met them, but I heard they’re fairly young. Well, at least my supervisor is, I had a meeting with the big boss the other day, Bobby. He seems like a good man.”

He chuckles. “Oh, yeah, Bobby’s great… as for your supervisor, don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t be too hard on you.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. If you haven't noticed, I tend to make a fool of myself easily.” I want to add something else, there's this little voice in the back of my head that is pressuring me to ask Sam Winchester out, even though I just met him. Maybe because he's handsome, or because he seems to be kind-hearted, but I cannot shut up my thoughts. Normally, I wouldn't flirt with him after just one meeting. This isn’t a normal day, and nerves affect me almost the same way alcohol does; they give me a false sense of security and make me say things that I probably shouldn't. “So, since we’re both new, why don't we meet up for lunch?”

His eyes widen comically, but before he can answer, a voice coming from afar calls his name: “Ah, Sam!” It’s a young man wearing a pristine black suit, and he’s walking toward us. I've seen him before, I think his name is Brady. He was the one who led me into Bobby's office for the interview. “Oh, I see you met the new intern. Hi there, how are you liking it so far?”

“Hello,” I greet, “I haven't gone inside yet.” I discreetly check my watch to see that it's still early. “Sam was kind enough to help me when I almost tripped.”

“I see,” Brady nods, “Sam, huh?” The question isn’t directed towards me because he's looking at the tall man. Sam gives him a warning glance. I cannot comprehend what is happening until Brady speaks again. “Well, it's good you’ve already met your supervisor. He was promoted just yesterday. Honestly, it saves me the trouble of making introductions.”

His words render me speechless. What the fuck did he just say? Did I just flirt with my supervisor? Which is basically having the hots for my boss. Sam looks at me with an apologetic glance. I cannot meet his eyes. Brady mustn’t notice the silence his comment created because he continues: “I'm gonna head inside, see you later!”

His happy pace doesn’t falter one bit. I'm considering that maybe he was aware of what his statement would do.

“I apologize for my previous behavior… I didn't mean-”

Sam doesn't let me continue, “you didn't?” He ponders for a moment. “That's a shame, we would've had a nice time.” I can tell by the way his eyes shine and his mouth forms a gentle smile that he is not teasing me, but actually means what he's saying. “Why don’t you come by my office at 2 p.m. and then we can go grab some lunch?”

He doesn't leave room for opinions because he turns around and walks inside the building without another word. What just happened? Do I have a date with my boss? I guess this first day isn't as crappy as I thought it would be.

[neoarchipelago]

Madripoor High (part 7)

A/N: so... I've been in brain fog. Hum... It's been a bit hard over here, especially since I feel bad and guilty for not updating my shit... Sorry bout that... Hum, here it is

Warnings: trauma, abuse, sexual talk, blood 18+ in general! Ghost's past in the comics. (F!reader)

You didn't find the strength in you to sigh. You cleaned up the pieces of glass from the ground, making sure the vacuum would get them all. Once you turned off the loud thing you turned to look at the company you had. Evening had rolled in, Alejandro and the team would be back very soon, taking the two idiots out of your hands.

Rudy sat in his chair, tied up again. You had unbound him when he woke up, only for him and Valeria to start fighting. You had decided to put him on time out in his chair again. Valeria had, her, tried to escape behind your back so you smashed the bottle of tequila on her head. She was unharmed, but knocked out cold. You decided that she would be put on time out as well. You looked at the two soldiers, tied up in their chairs, glaring at each other.

You sat down on the soft couch, grabbing the large glass of bourbon you had poured yourself before taking your laptop, deciding that drowning your mind in work and liquor might be the best for tonight. Insults in Spanish and growls could be heard from the two children in front of you. You let them fight verbally, at least no one would get hurt. You shushed them like children being scolded once in a while when they started to be a bit loud.

You tried to focus on the search for Snake. He wasn't from the underground. Wasn't a civilian. What was he? Police? Spy? Secret agent? Military…? This one made the most sense. It would be the perfect thing for Echo. Having men in each division. Underground, civilian, military. He could be aware of everything.

Another threatening scream erupted from the two chair bound prisoners.

"I WILL GAG YOU WITH EACH OTHER'S CLOTHES." You snapped.

They looked at you, a mix of confusion and weariness. You glared at the both of them before looking down at your laptop again, sipping on your glass. Sounds of voices and boots echoed in the hallway. One particularly quick pace made you smile.

"WE'RE BA- WHAT?!"

You snickered, turning to Soap. He eyed the situation with confusion plastered on his face. The rest of the team walked in, Gaz, Price and Alejandro looking as well.

"What happened princesa?" Alejandro asked.

"Valeria knocked out Rudy, Rudy woke up and they fought, I tied up Rudy, Valeria tried to slip behind my back so I knocked her out and tied her up." You explained turning to Soap.

You frowned, looking at the little dried blood on his temple. The thought of him being hurt rose a rage within you that rarely surfaced. Perhaps… you were getting too comfortable with the idea of him as your little brother.

"What happened?" You asked in a darker tone.

"Ah, it's nothing" he smiled.

"Who? I'll gut them." You asked again.

He chuckled before running to you for a hug. Price had the hint of a mischievous smile on his lips as Alejandro made his way to his two idiots. You lifted your laptop and Soap grabbed it, as well as your drink to put it down on the coffee table. He then proceeded to drape himself over you as you huffed a sigh.

"You missed us, didn't you?" He smirked.

"Of course she did!" Gaz added as he leaned on the back of the couch, right above you.

"Of course I did," you answered, trying to fake sarcasm. In all honesty, you did miss them. And that was a dangerous thought.

"Where's Ghost ?" You asked.

"He's taking care of a few things." Price said with a reassuring smile.

You frowned but nodded, turning back your attention to the man with his head on your lap.

After a few hours, a small debrief from each other side you headed to your room for a little rest before dinner. Ghost hadn't shown up yet and you were curious about it. You still decided to rest, listening to music and watching a TV show until dinner time.

When your stomach started to rumble you decided to step out of your room, headphones around your neck and phone in your hand. You wore leggings, long wide tshirt on top, hair into a messy, extremely, messy bun.

"Aww look at her she's adorable, I like the homeless look on you." Soap coed.

"Shut up." You snarked with a smirk.

"Come eat something. We cooked." Gaz said with a soft smile.

"Am I about to get poisoned?" You teased.

"No" gaz chuckled. "But don't try Soap's rice." He said in a sudden serious tone.

"You motherf-" soap yelled.

You smiled before looking around the room. Price sat at the counter, plate in front of him. You frowned as he looked up at you, an obvious question on your mind.

"He's at the gym training." He said again with a reassuring smile that started to taste sour to you.

You were still frowning but nodded slowly. You turned around before the boys let out a 'no!' quite perfectly synchronized. You froze looking back at them with wide eyes. Price cleared his throat as the boys went back to their pans.

"He needs some alone time. Don't go see him. He's not…"Price said, trying to find his words.

"Company friendly" Soap added.

You nodded again before turning back to the counter to go sit next to Price as he smiled at you. Gaz happily put a full plate in front of you as Soap jumped on the seat next to you. Gaz sat next to Price and conversation set in as you all ate. Your mind was still bugged by Ghost. You'd make sure to slip away after dinner to go check on him, ignoring the boys's words.

It was almost midnight when you excused yourself to go to bed, bidding goodnight to the boys, planting a kiss on their cheeks. Price was embarrassed, gaz winked and Soap assaulted you with a kiss as well.

You waited in your room to make sure the boys were either lost in their talks or had gone to bed before slipping out of your room, headphones still around your neck, still comfortably dressed. You made your way through the dark hallways, straight for the gym. The base was quiet, empty, apart from the soldiers patrolling that you were very careful to avoid. The lonely light of the gym made you feel some kind of anxiety. You weren't exactly regretting your choice but perhaps, you should tip toe.

You stepped inside, the sound of someone's weight falling to the floor with a loud 'thud' made you jump. You walked forward, heading straight to the sound. There, with his back turned to you, some loose tank top that left little to imagination of his toned chest and arms, tattoos along the skin of his arms and chest and back. You bit your lip. He was panting, you wondered how he could so flawlessly lift weight with that mask of his. You leaned against a machine watching him as he angrily picked up the weight again. He was careless. Obviously not caring if he'd hurt himself.

"You should be careful." You spoke in a soft voice.

Ghost jumped, weight falling to the ground immediately as his head snapped towards you. The angry look he sent you brought back the anxiety you felt earlier, now magnified.

"Get out." He growled.

You frowned. His cold tone bit at your skin.

"Are you alright?" You asked.

He chuckled darkly, his shoulders rolling.

"Oh sweetheart. Don't remember the last time I've been alright." He snarked, something worse than bitterness in his words.

"Do you want to talk abou-"

"No. Leave." He snapped again.

You sighed. You should leave. But you turned around. Aimed for the nearest wall and sat down, putting on your headphones. If he didn't want to talk, then you'd simply stay in silence. You'd show him you were still present, even from far away. You played your music, closing your eyes as you let your head back against the wall, knees close to your chest.

One song. That's how long you both lasted. You felt the pressure of someone's gaze on you as you opened your eyes. Falling into deep dark ones as you shivered. He kneeled down in front of you, shoving you to the side to lay you on the ground. His knee kicked your thighs open to let himself place himself there. You removed your headphones, looking up at him with confusion.

"Lieutenant…?" You asked.

"You've been playing with me since you walked into this base." He growled. You opened your mouth, ready to talk back when he cut you off. "Showing yourself naked in front of me, jumping into my fucking arms with your perfect fucking tits." You blushed at the mix of compliment and degradation in his voice. You shook your head unable to place a word in his monologue. "Been running around my ass like a bunny in heat. You don't fucking want me. Do you understand? Anyone else, but not me!" He was getting confusing, you tried to keep up with him, but he seemed lost in himself.

"Simon-"

--- explicit trauma talk---

"Don't you fucking dare call me that. Don't you get it? I kill. I murder. I'm not a good man. I was taught to not shy away from blood on my hands. I was tortured." You felt a lump in your throat, what was to come making you slightly shake. "Brainwashed. They hurt and beat you up. But when you don't brake. They show you pleasure. Pretty fucking whores ready to ride you until that's the only relief you get from the knifes and starving. Every fucking morning" he hissed. You wanted to apologize. Say sorry. That he didn't have to. The images of what happened materialize in your brain. "It's the only thing you crave. In between the pain and the assholes who try to get you for their own pleasure."

"Simon-" you called again, mentally cursing yourself for speaking his name, obviously not helping him. His hand rushed to your throat.

"Teach you to think of women as fuck toys only for you to feel good. You fuck. Hard. Brutally. Only for your own release. Is that what you fucking want?" He snapped again, leaning down as he rolled his hips against you.

---end trauma talk---

Somehow yes. You wanted it. But not like this. Not when he was drowning in trauma flashbacks, hating himself and what happened. Your hands flew to his chest as you did all you could to stifle the moan from your throat.

"Of course you do. Fuck… you knew all of that already, Price FUCKIN told you!"

"Ghost." You called, this time with a firmer tone, making him eye you without a word. "I am NOT playing with you. I never fucking did. I just wanted to get to know you." You tried. His hand removed himself from your neck. "I'd fucking lie if I said I wasn't attracted to you, but shit, I never played with you! Price never said anything!" You cried out, trying to not scream at him.

He stared into your eyes, searching for an ounce of lie in your words. Anything. But you never lied. He straightened back, looking down at you as he panted.

"Ghost-"

"Leave." He interupted.

"Wait-"

"I said, LEAVE."

The roaring yell made you jump. It almost made you choke on a hiccup, tears burning your eyes. You rolled around, ready to jump up to your feet. You never said anything more as you ran out of the gym, tears threatening to stain your cheeks. Only when you stood in a dark corner, did you leant back against a wall. You couldn't catch your breath in between the crying and the running. His words kept replaying in your brain as you tried to stop your twisted brain from imagining all the things he said. You felt sick. It hurt more than the screaming and the cursing. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths.

"Would you look at that…"

You froze, turning towards the sound. You groaned at the sight of one of the recruits from squad 8. These kids don't learn.

"Leave me alone…" you spat.

"You little bitch. Think you can order soldiers. Someone has to teach you a lesson." He spoke, a grin on his face. You glared at him.

"Not tonight. Seriously." You tried to warn.

The slap across your face left you shocked and wide eyed. Taste of blood on your tongue as you had scraped your bottom lip with your teeth. You didn't hesitate, didn't think twice as you jumped on him, punching him repeatedly. It lasted a good two minutes as you fought on the ground. Your mind drowned and screamed under the repeated words of Simon. You weren't proud of it but you definitely let yourself unwind on the poor boy.

He stepped back from you, hand holding his bloody nose. It was probably broken. Your messy bun was now loose, few forming bruises on your skin. You glared at him as you stepped closer ready to keep going, but he decided that he had enough, running back before getting out of sight.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you felt tears falling again. You licked your lips, wincing at the sting and tasting the iron-y of your blood. You couldn't go back to the dorms. Not like this. You didn't want to go back to the dorms. You walked around before your eyes set on the black jeep of the lieutenant. You walked to it without much thought before trying the back door that opened without problem. You jumped in, closing the door behind you. You fell to the side, laying down on the backseats.

You felt the cold on your warm skin, as you cursed. You straightened again, looking around the car before you saw the black hooded jacket he had offered you on the first day. You put it on before your eyes fell into a computer bag. Probably a work laptop given to him. You could work. Keep searching. Honestly, right now, you need to keep your mind busy. You pulled it out of the black fabric bag as you set it on your lap, turning it on. You were shaking but it didn't matter. Focus on the screen. On coding. Focus on the search. Nothing else.

The sound of recruits running and higher ups barking orders made you blink open your eyes. You winced when you moved, your sore body, black and blue. You sighed, staring at the roof of the car. You grabbed your phone, staring at the big 'low battery' notification. You switched to the time before sighing again. You were tired. You had fallen asleep two hours ago, at best. You had finally traced back to a soldier, someone that you were practically sure was 'snake'. But you had dived down so deep into work that eventually, you had overworked yourself into exhaustion. Your phone buzzed. You ignored it. It was too early into an already exhausting day to be bothered by human interaction. When it stopped, you closed your eyes again. Somehow people would avoid coming too close to the lieutenant's car, so you could probably rest an hour or two.

The buzzing started again. Multiple times. Texts and messages alternating. You finally snapped as you unlocked your phone. Missed calls from mostly Price, Alejandro, and some from gaz. Soap had gone full texts, sending them non stop. It made you sad. The idea that he was looking for you and was apparently worried about you. For his sake, you decided that it was time to go back to the dorms. You'd sleep better in your room anyway.

When you stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind you, various eyes caught your movement. You ignored it completely again, pulling the fabric of the black sweatshirt jacket around you. You walked towards the dorms, painful body aching with your first steps. The eyeing didn't stop through the hallways or up the staircase. It only stopped when you pushed the door to the dorms.

Far away voices seemed to actively debate. You stepped towards the common room, hearing Price asking Soap to calm down, Gaz saying that he was sure there was an explanation. When you stepped into view, the men were all back turned to you. Valeria was the only one sitting on the couch, catching sight of you. She immediately grinned.

"I hope your enemy looks worse." She joked.

Ah yes… the split lip.

"Go fuck yourself." You let out in a tired voice.

The boys turned to you, Soap immediately rushing to you.

"What happened?!" He inquired.

"I slammed into a door." You tried with a little laugh.

"LI-AR!" Valeria yelled with a mischievous grin. You glared at her.

You had avoided eye contact with the lieutenant, ignoring him completely.

"Tell us what happened." Price asked.

"It's nothing. Really. Doesn't matter…" you let out as Soap inspected your face.

"Is that… Ghost's jacket?" Gaz asked with a frown.

The group turned to him with an accusing stare. So they were aware you had met him last night. Did they think he might?

"I slept in his car." You let out.

Comically enough, the group now turned to you in sync. You tried a glance at the lieutenant who looked at you confused.

"Was nearby and was cold. Don't leave your Jeep unlocked." You explained while removing the jacket to hand it back to him.

"Bloody h-, Y/N!" Soap called again.

You frowned looking back at him. You followed his gaze on your forearm, angry bruises there, bloody knuckles. You sighed.

"I'm fine-"

"We should go to the med bay." Gaz spoke, turning to Price.

Price agreed as Valeria simply chuckled in her corner.

"No! No. No." You let out, taking a step back. "I'm fine. Please. Just… leave it." You asked, tiredness echoing in your voice. You looked at Price. "Did you see the infos I've sent you? About Hanks?"

"The sergeant. Yes." Price said.

"It's the closest I've gotten to someone being 'snake'. I'd say we wait a bit, he'll try to get in contact with Echo and I'll trace it back. I've put him under strong watch" You proposed. He nodded before you let your shoulders fall. "Alright… now if you'll excuse me… I need a nap." You mumbled, turning back towards the hallway and towards your room.

Footsteps were heard behind you that you ignored until you opened your door. You turned around, falling into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. You remained silent, simply looking at him.

"What happened?" He asked.

You didn't know what to tell him. You could say the truth but honestly, you wanted to simply say something else. And it was probably the exhaustion that made you slip up.

"I got attached…" you mumbled before slowly closing the door.

You woke up well in the evening. Your body ached even more and you definitely didn't want to move. You were hungry and you were begging for a shower. You stood up slowly before walking to your door. Soft voices echoed again in the common room. You wobbled your way to it as you peeked inside. You immediately noticed Soap and he did too.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm fine… I'm just hungry." You said with a small smile.

"We'll get you something." Gaz added.

"Guys… I can do it myself, really" you sighed.

"Sit on the couch."

The order made you shiver as you turned your head. The mask stared down at you. You eyed him with slight anger before turning to Soap who smiled at you, waiting for you to obey. You rolled your eyes before heading to the couch. You sat down slowly, grabbing the blanket nearby and throwing it around you. You looked up to see Ghost still looking at you as he walked towards the boys. You were shocked to see him start cooking as well.

You shook your head before seeing your laptop on the coffee table. Reaching for it before feeling a soft grab around your wrist. You recognized the skeleton gloves as you looked up to the familiar mask. He shook his head softly before handing you a mug of warm tea. You grabbed it, the warmth spreading to your hand. You hadn't realized how cold your fingers were.

"Thanks.." you whispered, eyes planted on the liquid in your hands.

He walked away again, the sweet smell of food spreading in the room. The first sip of tea filled your body with a delightful shiver, as if your muscles lost their tightness. The TV was on, some silly show that you didn't quite understand. It helped take your brain off of everything as time passed by in a flash.

A large plate was dropped in front of you, eggs, avocado, french toast and fruits all over. You looked up at the boys, Gaz and Soap looking at you proudly as Ghost remained a step back, arms crossed.

"Thank you, that's sweet." You chuckled. Soap sat next to you as Gaz and Ghost took place on the armchairs.

You ate quietly as the boys talked. You found yourself meeting Ghost's gaze too often during your meal as he seemed to eye you like a hawk. Once you finished your plate, Soap happily patted your head before grabbing the empty dish. You threw him a fake glare.

"We got to report with Price. Ghost is staying. If you need anything ask him." Gaz spoke, standing.

You felt yourself freeze for a second. It's ok. You'd simply go back to your room and ignore him.

"Alright. I'm tired to be honest, I'll probably just stay in my room." You reassured.

Soap happily nodded before heading out with Gaz. You sighed, grabbing your mug to finish your tea. The room was silent apart from the TV.

"You should get checked up." He broke the silence.

"I'm fine." You sighed, no actual annoyance towards him.

"You're bruised…" he stated.

"I am, in fact, bruised, lieutenant." You nodded. You took the last sip of your mug before standing up, letting the blanket fall back on the couch. You walked to the sink to drop the mug.

"About… yesterday." He started.

"It's ok." You said. "I mean… it wasn't ok. But I get it. I should have listened to Price when he told me to leave you alone…" you spoke in a messy lighthearted tone.

"I'm… sorry if I hurt you. Or scared you." He spoke again.

"You didn't hurt me. You are a scary man, but I wasn't that frightened by you." You said, finally turning around with a little smirk. He eyed you, expression unreadable. "I'm going to go to my room." You informed him, as you walked towards the hallway. Familiar footsteps behind you almost made you laugh. You stepped inside, leaving the door open for your obvious stalker.

"I really think you should go see the medic." He spoke again.

"Nope…" you simply answered.

"You need to be checked for possible injuries." He pushed.

You wanted to tell him that he could come undress you and check himself. The idea sparked in your mind as you turned to him with your mouth slightly agape.

"Hum… actually… Can you help me with something?" You asked. He thought for a second before nodding. "Can you… go get your pretty knife?" He was going to say something but you beat him to it. "I'm not going to steal it. But we'll need it."

He took another long second to think before stepping out of the room. When he walked back in, you instructed him to close the door. You sat on the bed as he remained standing.

"What you said yesterday." You started, quickly anticipating his reaction. "No! I'm not trying to talk about it. Don't worry. I won't push it." You reassured him, looking deep into his eyes. He looked tense now. "What… did it cause?" You asked.

"What do you mean..?" He asked with a frown. You sighed.

"On the night I came home to my dead family. The TV was still blaring. With a TV show my siblings loved to watch. I can't stand the sight of it now…" you explained. He seemed to understand.

"Touch. Getting…" he seemed to question himself. Asking himself if he truly wanted to be open with you. "Getting intimate is complicated." You warmed up at the thought that he did trust you. "Even if.. they didn't manage to break me. I'm unsure of myself. Of my touch or… my behavior. Scared to snap." He explained. You nodded.

"Have you? -you don't have to answer this- been… with someone, since then?" You asked. He took a deep breath.

"Tried. Only once or twice. Never more than a night."

You nodded. You patted the bed next to you and he glared at you.

"I'm not going to jump on you Ghost. I'm going to propose a deal." You explained.

"A deal?" He tilted his head.

"Yes. An experience. Only if you trust me." You let out.

Silence fell. He stepped closer but remained standing in front of you.

"What deal?" He asked. You extended your hand, asking for the knife. He looked at you, weary. He slowly handed you the knife as you held it before laying back down on the bed. You opened your legs wide enough to make sure he'd be able to sit in the middle. He inhaled a sharp breath.

"Come on… come here." You beckoned him.

"No. Absolutely not." He took a step back. You immediately sat up.

"I'm not asking for- Ghost… please. Trust me." You begged. "If you feel in the slightest like it's too much we immediately stop."

His breathing had quickened. You very slowly laid back down, eyes softly inviting him. He slowly walked to you, stopping next to the bed. It did send a wave of warmth to your pussy. The way he towered you and looked down at you so darkly. He knelt down on the bed, awkwardly positioning himself in between your legs. You let them rest on his thighs.

"Alright… I'm going to let you… check for my injuries." You explained. He kept his hands fisted on the sheets next to your hips. "You can, remove my clothes-" he hissed a breath again. "But!" He stopped. "Come here." You asked him as you brought him forwards to lean closer to you. "If I feel unsafe, or uncomfortable. I will tell you to stop. And you will." You explained.

"Why would you trust me?" He snarked.

"I trust you. You're the one not trusting yourself." You let out softly. He was taken aback but remained frozen. You raised the knife slowly to his neck as his eyes followed its path. "There… see? I'm protected. I won't let you hurt me." You said, the soft smile on your lips incredibly contrasting with the situation. He let out a shaky breath. His eyes watched yours, searching for fear or apprehension. Perhaps any uncomfort or wavering will. But you showed none. His eyes slowly lowered to your jaw, traveling slowly down to your neck and collar bone.

The baggy t-shirt covered most parts of your upper body. When his eyes fell on your waist, his hand slowly moved to grab and fist at the hem of the baggy shirt. He glanced up, freezing, asking for permission. You nodded slowly. His other hand joined the first once, slowly pushing the fabric up. He was suddenly serious. Checking for bruises or cuts. You were ok for most part, until he raised the shirt enough to see the beginning of your ribcage. A violet bruise on your left side made his eyebrows twitch.

The anger it seemed to awoke in him gave him confidence in his movements. He remained slow but pulled off the shirt above your head to throw it somewhere in the room angrily. His eyes scanned your body, a few bruises on the shoulder but nothing too serious. The one on your rib cage seemed to particularly anger him. He didn't flinch at the way you simply laid down with your bra and your bottom clothes.

"It looks worse than it feels…" you tried.

"Why didn't you come back to the gym? Ask for help?" He questioned.

"You… didn't want to see me…" you let out slowly.

His hands at the hem of your leggings shook slightly. You didn't know if it was the realization of his behaviors or simply that you felt like you couldn't ask for his help that caused a shock through him, but you only had time to blink before the sound of shredded fabric was heard. You gasped as you looked up at him.

"Stop." You warned.

He froze, not a single movement. You made him look up at you.

"Breathe…" you asked. "It's ok. You're angry. I get it." At least partially…

"I… you felt unsafe to come ask me for help." He translated his own perception.

"No…" you shook your head. "I know that if I came running to you, you would have helped. Without a single doubt." You stated honestly. "I didn't come to see you because I could handle the situation… and I wanted to give you some space." You finished.

He closed his eyes for a second before glancing back at your ripped leggings.

"Sorry…" he mumbled. You giggled, catching his attention.

"It's ok. You'll have to buy me a new one though." You teased.

The hand on your thighs moved up and down lightly as he glanced down and up at you again. Asking for the next step.

"Go on…" you permitted.

His hands traveled back to the black leggings, taking them off softly. Little bruises here and there, but nothing as bad as the rib cage. He still had his brows furrowed as he inspected every inch of your skin. You were now only in panties and bra. He made sure too carefully, up to your ankles. You had your thighs slightly closed, an instinct when he had ripped your pants. He sighed softly, tension releasing his shoulders.

"See? Told you. Nothing bad-" He was frozen. Eyes fixed on something. "G..ghost?" You questioned.

You stood on your elbows, lowering the hand with the knife to look at the spot he was looking. A dark purple bruise in the shape… of a bite. You tried to close your thighs only to have his hands restrain them to keep them apart enough to inspect the outrageous wound.

"It's… yeah… had my thighs around his neck… he… bit me-"

An exhale. A shuddered exhale. The knife removed from your hand to be thrown across the room planting itself in the wall in a loud 'thud'. You were manhandled on your stomach as you let out a shocked yelp. He wasn't hurting you. Wasn't being aggressive. But he was possessively owning your body. You could hear him breathe harder.

"Simon…" it escaped your lips.

His hands pulled your hair to the side. He was inspecting you. The nape of your neck, your shoulders and back. Your ass and the back of your thighs.

"Simon" you warned.

You felt him lean forward, the cold touch of his mask in between your shoulder blades.

"Tell me." He asked, tone sounding more like an order.

"Sim-"

"Tell. Me." He growled against your ear. You shivered.

"I.." you felt your heartbeat quicken. Not fear. Something else. "I don't know his name…" you answered honestly. You knew his squad. Knew the problems he had caused.

"A face. A rank. A fucking squad." He asked.

"Alright… breathe. I'll tell you, but you need to calm down." You gave in.

The hand close to your face, fisted in the sheets, flexed before relaxing.

"Go on… I'm listening…"

You felt yourself shake a bit. You were worried. Worried of what he'd do to the poor boy. But something else made you feel lightheaded. The sudden possessiveness, the sudden need to protect you that you weren't expecting at all.

"I really don't know his name. Just… don't hurt the poor boy…"

"Boy. Alright. Not a higher up, a stupid recruit. Sergeant at best." He mumbled. You rolled your eyes.

"It's… complicated…" you bit your lip. Should you tell him… the whole truth?

"I'm waiting. I got all night." He said. "Can… I?" He questioned.

"Can you what?" You frowned confused.

"...touch you." He grumbled lowly, almost ashamed. You giggled before nodding slowly. Light fingers roamed across the skin of your back, tracing your spine. "I'm listening." He reminded you.

A shuddered breath made you halt before continuing your tale.

"I've been… headbutting with some squad for a little while now." You started, earning no visible reaction from him. "I've… been cornered once. But Gaz and Soap showed up." He hummed, recording the event in the kitchen, his hands running up and down your sides, making you sigh. "When you guys left… they kind of tracked me down. Was unable to go back to the dorms for a little while. Alejandro helped after I kinda tricked them."

"Did they hurt you?" He asked, squeezing at the flesh of your hips, making you bite your lip.

"No." You said. "And… last night. I ran out of the gym and stopped to catch my breath. One of them cornered me. I wanted him to leave me alone but…" you felt unsure.

Simon groaned, manhandling you again to put you on your back again. His hand rose to your chin, making sure to lock eyes with you.

"But?" He questioned.

"But… he slapped me." You answered in a low, tiny voice. Anger flashed again in his eyes, as they lowered to your lip. "I defended myself." You remembered him. "We fought. And I kinda…" now you blushed at the realization. Confused but curious gaze fell back into yours. "I broke his nose…"

A light chuckle rumbled through Simon. You looked away. You weren't embarrassed that you defended yourself. His reaction made you feel something that made your heart jump.

"Well that's a good girl…"

You turned to him, wide eyed, lips slightly parted. The sound of his deep raspy voice, saying honey praise made your stomach flip, now feeling your own racing heartbeat in between your legs. Legs that were still wide opened as he was still nested in between them. You hid your face behind your hands.

"Ok, stop." You instructed.

"So… I can touch you, but I can't call you a good girl?" He argued.

"Exactly!" You answered, removing your hands to look at him.

His eyes wrinkled, an obvious grin behind the mask.

"Alright. How about you rest? I'll take care of the rest." He said, standing up. "Tomorrow morning you'll go down to the med bay with Price."

"I said-" you argued back.

"So they'll write down a report." He cut you off. "I can excuse fighting on the battlefield. Doing everything to survive, even if we go down to biting the opponent. But this…" he lazily pointed at your naked thighs, making you close them. "That is cowardly. Attacking a lone person in the dark and biting them. That's not a soldier." He explained again.

You sighed, nodding slightly. His point of view was understandable. He moved, readjusting his pants making you notice the prominent bulge in his pants, the sight making you lick your lips instinctively. God.. he's big.

"Tracker!"

You jumped at the reprimand, gazing up at an annoyed Ghost, clenching his jaw.

"It's not my… I am looking respectfully! You…you're packing all of that! What do you want from me!?" You stammered, embarrassed to be caught so shamelessly looking.

Flushed cheeks and sorry gaze, but your thighs clenched together. He noticed. Of course he did.

"Look who's talking… sprawled out almost naked…" he said, his voice rumbling dangerously.

You smirked, pulling a blanket over you as he immediately looked up at you with a frown.

"Boom! See? Problem fixed! Now get out of here… with… all of that." You teased, gesturing at his pants.

He groaned walking towards the door, palming his erection to somehow make it feel more comfortable.

"Think of me when you'll jerk off." You teased again. He sent you a dark look.

"No problem." He teased back.

Silence fell, moments where none of you moved.

"Thank you… for… being patient with me and… letting me… test? I don't know…" he stumbled in his words.

"Any time Simon. I feel comfortable with you. Even if you don't want anything… more than friendship… I want you to be comfortable with me. And let me help you if I can." You answered honestly.

He nodded slowly before exiting the room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. God. This man will be the death of you…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tags:

@thychuvaluswife  @emily-roberts   @warrior-of-justice   @gh0stedddd   @ladyelissarose

@kiruoris  @kaeyamain-zonglilover @salsa-reads-stuff  @coacaiyne @hufflepuff-hugz

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

could you explain your writing process a bit? i adore your fics, like everytime ive tried writing smut (or mostly any fic, oc writing seems to be more my forte) ive struggled a lot with staying motivated or staying focused. your fics are so interesting and complex character-wise despite centering around sex or sexual acts. id love to just hear you explain your full process, any struggles youve had with writing in the past, any advice, or anything else really. thank you and have a good one!

oh wow yeah okay sure, i can do that! pretentious soliloquizing ahead. i will talk about sexual preferences. mine, specifically. sorry. and thanks :]

writing smut is two things to me, and which of those things takes priority just kinda depends on the day or my mood. first, it's stuff that i personally find hot and enjoy thinking about/jerking off to, plain and simple. secondly, i see smut as a vehicle for character development or interaction, as a vector through which i can express facets of a character that can't really be demonstrated in other scenarios/are best expressed through sex. i'm a literary analyst first and a writer second, so i approach it from a character-driven lens rather than something scenario-driven.

light yagami, for example, is a control freak who likes dominating others but is repulsed by people who cave too fast (misa, mikami). what gets his blood pumping are people who challenge his dominance and he gets really flustered when control is taken from him (see: the Lind L Taylor breakdown). from this, i extrapolate that he would get a kick out of being forced to submit sexually, and would find it both humiliating and arousing; these are all things that spring from his character but also things i personally find hot.

from there, i'd think about what kinks or scenarios could force this kind of submission out of him and make for an interesting dialogue. again, as an example, a noncon scenario where L practically jumps him might be something i'd consider. a plot to justify this scenario spirals from there.

writing smut is really fucking hard, by the way, so don't beat yourself up about it. the fic i publish these days is hugely informed by a ridiculous amount of practice and purposefully pushing myself out of my comfort zone. i find that writing and posting some smut, then looking back on it and analyzing it with a fresh eye sometime later, can help me sus out where i want to improve and what i'm currently doing fine with. writing for me is both a fun hobby and also an exercise to become a better writer, though that is not the kind of grind everyone wants, and that's totally fine.

as far as advice goes for smut writing: write what makes your dick hard. i am so serious here. being extremely horny about [insert scenario] is the secret to getting your ass in the chair and writing. i too will get extremely distracted midway through a porn scene so i will just pause writing it, go do something else/write something else, and then come back to finish the fucking. it's really about following what makes your brain light up in sparklers and explosions.

like. you know what i love? blowjobs!!! i love !! blowjobs!! i inflict this on light yagami and the blowjob smut just pours out of me. it's magic.

it is very, very hard to write porn about kinks/scenarios i'm not personally excited about. this is because writing porn is ridiculously hard. i'm walking a wire's edge of "keep this in character or at the very least, somehow justify this out of character action within the narrative" and "make sure the scene is sexy" and "make sure the mechanics of everything make sense and that they haven't switched sex positions impossibly while i wasn't looking." it's a lot to juggle! i struggle to write the scenes all in one go.

a couple of times i've had to write a commission for kinks/scenarios i'm not personally interested in and whew, those were tricky. i have to do more mental gymnastics to get myself in the headspace of someone who would enjoy those kinks. for example, i'm not hugely into toys. i was paid to write a fic that centered around a vibrator once. i had to sit there, delude myself into a headspace where i thought vibrators were hot, and then write as fast as i could before the headspace vanished. this is where the analysis brain helps because instead of me personally being horny about a scenario, i'm looking at it through the lens of someone who would be.

i also do a lot of field research. this means anything from sucking and fucking (god bless my partner, who is about as adventurous as i am and usually down to field test scenarios for me) or going to kink fairs to watch demos of things i am personally not about to try (recently saw some fantastic shibari suspension scenes that i will be stealing, thanks). more than anything, talking to people helps. the "yes, and..." of spitballing with other folks about a horny scenario really helps the writing juices start flowing. i cannot emphasize how much easier it makes writing porn to have someone you can hit up like okay, i have this idea, what else can i do to make it sexy?

so i'd say, anon, my best advice for you is to figure out what really gets you going and then just. roll with that. stare at a character and try to think about if they'd like the kinks you like. extrapolate from there, and talk to as many fellow freaks as you can find. sit down and just write something that you find personally very exciting. and just keep doing it. my first pornfic was from 2021 and quite frankly it is bad. i've started (but not finished) a hundred other porny scenarios that i just didn't have the energy to complete. but for every thirty half-baked thoughts about penis i have at least one that i can get so manic over i end up finishing it.

let me know if you have any other questions, and i hoped this helped T-T explicit scenes are genuinely the most difficult thing i write these days, but they're also....lowkey some of the most fun...so i hope you got some use out of this :]

[cozyhatchling]

Aww! I just read your little Kaveh headcanons! I was wondering if you had an idea of what would happen if Kaveh got lost cuz he didn't hold Alhaitham's hand. I wanna draw a little thing but I can't think rn (hope dis makes sense lol)

Ahh, I'm so glad you liked it! I was just gonna do some headcanons but ended up writing a little drabble, hehe~

Little Kaveh and Carer Alhaitham Fic:

Hold My Hand

Kaveh was having an absolutely fantastic day.

Going out with Alhaitham was a good day in and of itself, but today was particularly special; one of Kaveh's favorite museums had been closed for renovations for nearly two years, and it had just reopened the previous weekend. Alhaitham (who was incredibly thoughtful despite insisting otherwise) had surprised Kaveh with tickets to see the new exhibits, and the pair had chosen today for their visit.

They had been exploring the museum for hours, but Kaveh was still overflowing with happy energy even as the sun began to dip below the tops of nearby buildings. An announcement that the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes echoed through the halls, passing in one of Kaveh's ears and right out the other.

"Haitham, look!" Kaveh pointed toward an advertisement for an exhibit further down a long hallway: it was a huge scale model of one of Kaveh's favorite ancient buildings in the city. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he scampered away down the hall and turned a few corners until he reached his destination several rooms away.

The model was just as spectacular as Kaveh could have ever hoped. He poured over all the little details, circling around the exhibit and reading all the plaques, babbling excitedly and pointing at parts he recognized.

"Haitham! Isn't this the best?" Kaveh bounced happily as he turned back to his partner, only to find himself alone in the room. Excitement immediately drained from his mind, replaced with cold anxiety at being left alone. The last vestiges of adulthood his brain was clinging to fell away, and suddenly the empty room felt huge and terrifying.

"H-haitham?" No response. "Dada? Dada!" Kaveh ran to the entrance of the room, trying and failing to hold back the tears that filled his eyes when all he saw beyond the doorway was yet another empty room. It was very close to closing time now, and imagining himself locked away in the dark all alone had Kaveh bawling openly in seconds.

"D-dada!" he sobbed, standing frozen in the doorway, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched in the front of his shirt. He was spiralling, small and alone, until-

"Kaveh!"

Kaveh's eyes popped open and his crying momentarily ceased as he was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. It took only a split-second of processing before he recognized his dada's arms around him, and his tears began again, this time filled with relief. He clung to Alhaitham's shirt and sobbed into his shoulder as his carer slowly rubbed his back.

"Kaveh, you know not to run off like that..." Alhaitham's voice was low but not angry. He gave Kaveh a few more moments to calm down, then moved away so he could gently wipe the tears from his baby's cheeks. "This is why you always hold my hand, remember?"

"S-sorry, Dada... Didn't mean to..." Kaveh, scared his dada was mad at him, nearly started crying again, but Alhaitham stopped that line of thought with a quick kiss to Kaveh's forehead.

"I'm not mad at you, Kav. I was just worried." The taller man straightened up and took Kaveh's hand firmly in his. "The museum is closing soon; how about we head home, and we can come back and explore more another day."

The prospect of returning to the museum later cheered Kaveh somewhat, and he followed Alhaitham toward the entrance with little fuss. His head still felt fuzzy and small, but his dada's warm hand in his assured him that he was safe and all was well. He knew that Alhaitham would always take care of him; even though others might see the man as distant or even cold, Kaveh knew the gentle, kind carer beneath, and loved Alhaitham for it.

By the time they exited the museum, the sun had fully set, and the city was lighting up around them. Alhaitham pulled Kaveh into his side, sheltering him from the winter chill. Kaveh peered up at him, eyes hopeful.

"Dada? When we get home, can we have soup an' playtime?"

Alhaitham sighed. "You aren't tired out yet?"

Kaveh grinned; he saw right through Alhaitham's apparent exasperation. "Nuh-uh!"

"...Fine then. But you can't complain when Dada says it's bedtime, alright?"

Kaveh nodded and smiled brightly. Though the cold fear of his earlier ordeal hadn't melted completely, it was being thawed by the prospect of his warm home and comforting partner. Kaveh leaned into Alhaitham's side, relaxing against the man as his mind drifted toward happier thoughts.

I'm not a huge fan of the ending, but I think this turned out alright, I hope you like it!

If anyone would like to request headcanons, check out this post! (They won't be full fics like this, just lists.) I also have an ask game active~

Thanks for reading!

[angelkissiies]

Open hand or closed fist

(the joker x reader x bruce wayne)

part 3/?

CW/TW : paranoia, fear, mentions of trauma and injury, some fluff and bonding. other things I can’t remember so please read with caution because this series is not for the faint of heart or minors.

word count : 3136

a/n : my deepest and most sincere apologies for how long this took, im so sorry if it’s not what you expected. I hope you enjoy ! Also I did not proof read bc damn this is long.

part two here

Sharp chills ran down your spine as you hesitated at the door of Bruce’s car. The weather had taken a plunge into the negatives as you’d been recuperating in the hospital, yet the chills weren’t from the harsh cold. It came from the realization that your life would be coming to an end, that you were walking directly into the hands of the man who wanted nothing more than the interface. One life to him meant nothing.

“(Y/n)?” Bruce spoke, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. He’d been with you through the entirety of your hospital stay, making sure you weren’t bothered by the GCPD during your recovery. He wished he could say that was his only angle, to be the support you needed- but if he did that would be a lie. He knew there was more to the story, more he needed to uncover to understand what The Joker could want with you. Was it just a random selection? Or was there something else locking you to the clown, something he couldn’t see. Despite everything, he was the perfect company. Card games and movies every night, lunch and dinner provided by some caterer that was much too expensive, and enough understanding of women to know when you needed some time alone.

His voice washed the intrusive thoughts away, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over your brain. “Yeah, sorry.” You apologized, ducking into the car. It was a nice contrast, seeing as you had begun to go mad at the endless off white of the hospital walls. His car was black, the interior a sleek gray- and it was made by some manufacturer you’d never even heard of. Typical though, he was, after all, a billionaire- it would make sense for him to have something expensive.

Bruce nodded gently, closing the car door with a soft click before coming around to the driver's side. The time with you had been fun, but not at all what he’d hoped. No new information could be expelled from you, nothing he didn’t already know so to speak. His only hope was the time you’d spend at the manor, somehow he needed to get you to confide in him. It made him feel guilty, he cared for you more than he’d be willing to admit and what he had planned felt like a massive betrayal. Some things required a filthy conscience. He slipped into the car, quickly closing the door to fight off the cold breeze. “All ready to go?” He asked, sending over a smile.

It took everything in you not to jump out of the car. “Yeah, we should hurry. We might be able to get there before the snow does.” Your body was ridgid, despite the warm air circulating through the car. You thought of the sleepless nights, jumping at every bump in the night. The persistent feeling of impending doom that had yet to subside in the weeks you’d been away, been safe. Something within you knew that you’d never really be safe, even within the fortress that was Wayne manor.. “I heard from the doctor before we left, they think it might turn into a blizzard.”

The car lurched forward, sending the two of you onto the main road. It was slick with patches of black ice, though that stopped nobody from speeding. The city was more alive than usual, the sound of sirens carrying through the streets as more and more people were bested by the elements. “Good thing Alfred stocked the pantries this weekend, or else, I fear we’d be reduced to cannibalism.” He joked, nudging you gently with his free hand. It was his best attempt, you had to give him some credit.

A light laugh fell from your lips as you threw him a smile, “I don’t suppose Alfred and I stand a chance against you.” It was true, the man was much taller, much faster, and much stronger than the butler and yourself.

“Oh definitely not.” The man boasted, taking a sharp turn onto the desolate road that led away from Gotham and towards the Arkham bridge that would take you directly to the main island. The road was barely ever used now, so much so that the Mayor considered closing off the road completely to avoid vandalism to the old asylum. It was pretty much immediately shot down, considering the other islands surrounding Arkham island would be almost completely inaccessible by car. Bruce was one of the voices opposing the shut down, more or less for the fact one of his family's homes sat on the land. “I don’t think I’d eat you though, you know too much about anatomy- you’d be too useful. I don’t think i’d be able to figure out which parts you can eat and-” He paused, letting out a slight laugh. “And I think I might be thinking about this too much. I promise I'm not a cannibal.”

You looked at him incredulously, letting out a deep belly laugh that sent a shooting pain into your ribs. “Bruce, I don’t think you could hurt a fly. Let alone eat someone.” It genuinely was one of the funniest things you’d ever heard, the man was probably the last person you could see yourself being scared of. The only hindrance in your joy was the aching that followed. Your ribs had taken to a steady throbbing pain, worsening with every deep breath- somehow, no matter what you did or even didn’t do, the constant reminder of the joker nipped the joy you felt.

Bruce had a content look on his face, biting back the urge to make a comment that might out him as the city's vigilante. It felt different after all this time, even though you were still the same person you were before the assault, he could feel something pulling you away from him. A nagging savior complex wanted to fly you away, somewhere far from this shithole of a city, though internally he knew The Joker had no limits to his insanity. He’d scoure the earth until he found his prize heffer. “So, have you been to Arkham Island before?” He asked, filling the silence that had settled thick between the two of you.

The trees passed by in a blur of white and green, the land around the cursed asylum finally beginning to heal. “Once, a long time ago. Wasn’t pleasant.” You responded, hugging your coat tighter as the frosty pane of the window came into contact with your hand. Even after all of this time, even after setting on the fact that Bruce could never know, you still had to resist the urge to confide in him. He’d stuck by you the past few weeks, sparing no expense to get you the best care, the best entertainment, the best company. He’d become a better friend than you’d imagined was possible, yet there was no way you could trust him enough to endanger his life.

Was anything really ever worth a life? Was your life worth this much effort? Why couldn’t you just end all of this? Whatever that might entail. Whether it be seeking The Joker out to live your life as he saw fit or taking matters into your own hands. Both were equally horrible outcomes, though they both seemed to be endgame. Which was the both of two evils, and would you ever be sure?

From the road you could make out the silhouette of a looming fence, the dark silver poking out of the snow like a sore thumb. It looked old, dated in style- which solidified your fears. This house wouldn’t be as protected as Wayne Manor would've been, sub par security from back before the Wayne’s were murdered and a lock and key gate made for a bad situation. Your eyes focused in on the tire tracks that laid ahead, the snow packed down where Alfred had arrived a day earlier. You had to admit, the idea of seeing the old man again lightened your heart. He had become a close friend during your stays at the manor, offering you tea whilst you worked on repairing the millionaire or steaming your coat without asking to make sure it would be warm for you before you left. His kindness was unmatched for the most part.

As Bruce parked outside the gate, he dug through his pockets- pulling out a key the size of an iphone before pushing his door open. “Just one second, the locks on the place haven’t been changed in awhile, so key it is.” He smiled, stepping out into the nippy winter air, the car door closing behind him. The man felt uneasy, though he played it off to his best ability, the creeping feeling of uncomfort being chalked down to your curious eyes that peered at him through the windshield. His hand shook slightly as he pushed the large metal key into the lock, turning it with a great deal of force before it gave way the the locking mechanisms yielded. The smell of copper filled his nostrils, making him cringe before pushing the gate inwards, as he mentally noted the fact that this place needed an upgrade. Truth was, he hadn;t been back here in years. The old place had been left to the elements, and with the sight of the manor, he definitely could tell the wear and tear was taking over the exterior.

The manor looked much larger than most would’ve imagined, built of stone and dark oak- it resembled that of a hunting lodge in the mountains. The rough stone had been left to the forest as moss began to creep up the sides of the building, creating a beautiful entanglement as if the history of the island had not tainted it yet. As you squinted towards the house to see more, a figure in the window caught your attention. The small lengthy frame belonged to Alfred, who stood waving the two of you in from the warmth of the manor. The sight brought a small giggle to you, imagining how long he had been there trying to catch the attention of the billionaire.

Bruce returned to the car only seconds later, causing a huff of freezing hair to rush in- violating the pleasant warmth that had settled on your skin. His hands were shaking slightly and his fingers had gained a bright pink hue from the harsh cold of the gate. “So, what do you think?” He asked, shifting the car into drive as he began creeping down the driveway.

You gave a small nod, letting your eyes explore the property. It was different, to say the least. After being stuffed inside of a dreary hospital room for so long, this was like being in a completely different country. The snow was pristine white, untouched. Unlike the melting, blackened snow you’d seen on your way out of Gotham. The air held silence, thick and looming in the absence of life. From the moment you;d crossed from the bridge onto the island, you’d heard nothing but the soft hum of the engine and Bruce’s voice. It was almost as if Arkham had become completely different in the weeks since your ‘visit.’ It was scary anymore, you could see every abandoned driveway and empty house. Hell, even the snow reflected that nobody else had been out this way, no tire tracks or footsteps as far as the eye could see. “It feels serene out here, It’s really lovely.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he came to a stop at the front entrance, “I’m glad you like it,” He said, turning the car off with a slight twist of the ignition. “It’s you and me, roomie, till further notice.”

As if on cue, Alfred scurried out of the manor bundled in one of the largest coats you’ ever seen. Anything you might’ve thought had completely vanished at the sight, the poor man could barely bend his arms in the thing making it a rather funny sight as he attempted to open the car door. You let out a small chuckle before opening it yourself, allowing the man the chance to step out of the way.

He graciously took it as he held the door open, “Welcome! I’m glad you two made it safely.” He spoke, offering his hand as you stepped out onto the half frozen ground. The snow crunched under your feet, prompting a small smile from the man before you. “Isn’t it lovely? I’ve been trying to get Master Bruce here to visit for ages.” Alfred let his eyes move to Bruce, squinting as he poked fun at him.

Bruce groaned in annoyance, the hint of a smile evident on his rosy cheeks, “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for that, Al.” He moved around the car, ushering the two of you up the stairs like a cattle dog before the conversation went on any longer. He knew how carried away his butler could get, which would lead to the pair of you getting hypothermia. As the two of you disappeared into the home, he lingered at the front door for a moment, he could feel something. Though there was no reason to, he found himself looking over his shoulder, peering back to watch for a threat. Something didn’t feel right, though maybe it could all be summed up to the feelings that arose in connection with his family's manor, but he couldn’t be sure. After all, the whole reason any of you were here was to ensure your safety. The Joker could be around any corner, watching through thousands of hidden eyes, awaiting the perfect moment to strike- so if there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it’s that he couldn’t get comfortable here.

Upon entering the home, you were hit with the strong scent of apples. It wafted through the hallways from the kitchen, the smell alone was enough to make your stomach grumble.”Alfred, It smells incredible in here, what are you making?” You wondered, taking in the decor of the house. It was definitely fancy, but it looked as if someone had a strong affinity for artwork as more than half of the walls were filled with beautifully painted pieces accompanied with framed family photos.

Alfred chuckled, turning briefly to make eye contact with you. “Apple strudels, they’re one of Bruce’s favorite sweets.” With that, he turned back and led you through a confusing labyrinth of a corridor. After a couple minutes of following the leader, he stopped before the bottom of a staircase which led to the left wing suites on the second floor. “I would accompany you up to your room, but I don't want to risk burning our snack. Your room is the third door down the right hall.”

You could tell he felt guilty, so you gave him a smile, nodding complacently. “Thank you, Alfred. Are my things up there by chance, I was wanting to maybe grab a shower.” During your hospital stay, the doctor was very adamant about keeping your stitching dry- so you’d only been able to shower three times, which left you feeling incredibly gross. The idea of being clean again was enough to make your entire night.

“Of course, The bathroom is also stocked with some things you might need.” He confirmed as he began back towards a door adjacent to the one the two of you had come through. He seemed to know this place better than Bruce did, which didn’t seem as much of a surprise- as he’d been with the family for more years than you could count.

The silence began to set in as you began up the stairs. It was reminiscent of your trek up to your apartment in Gotham. You’d spent months making the most out of the six floor hike up to your place, as the elevator had just completely given out randomly, so this was a piece of cake. Before you knew it, the landing was a few feet away littered with boxes filled with what looked like more framed photos. It was peculiar because the boxes looked old and worn, as if the Waynes had begun to pack up the house long before their deaths had transpired. ‘Not your business.’ You had to remind yourself. The topic had always (and would always) be a tender spot with the duo downstairs. You wrapped your arms around yourself tightly, taking the right turn down the hallway you’d be staying in. It wasn’t hard to pick out the door that now belonged to you, as it was the only one not covered in a thick layer of dust.

Upon first glance inside, you took note of the two bags that sat in the middle of the king sized bed. Undoubtedly, they were filled with fresh clothes and the other miscellaneous things you’d asked to be picked up from your apartment. As you gazed around you noted that the room was warmed by a fireplace, which sat burning behind a grill to keep the debris from entering the room. It all was incredibly beautiful, as the room took a rich red hue. Linens and decor alike were painted in shades of red and black, giving the room a gothic feel. You moved inwards, allowing the door to close behind you with a thud.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, moving to grab one of the bags. As you pulled it to yourself, a small box fell to the floor by your feet- seemingly after being wedged somewhere between your belongings. “Now, what is this?” You asked aloud, to no-one in particular, as you used your foot to bring the thing closer. Once within reach, you took it from its resting place on the floor. It was a small red box that had been tied shut with a white ribbon. It held no markings or branding, which is why you spared no time pulling the ribbon loose and gently removing the lid.

You felt yourself choke, letting the box fall to your feet once more. There was no way, this place was safe. It was Bruce Wayne’s house for Christ's sake. It hadn’t been empty since Alfred arrived yesterday, which meant that whoever snuck this in- was here when Alfred was, how else would they be able to get the box into your things? Your heart was hammering in your chest, eyes jumping down to land on the contents of your supposed ‘gift.’

A small silver chain with a dainty ‘J’ charm attached lay almost hidden in the carpet, the red hue enveloping it like a pool of blood. Inside the lid, which remained on the bed, was a note. With shaking hands, you unfolded it.

God, how you wished you’d never read it.

[abbatoirablaze]

Locked Up, Chapter 3

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  manipulation, attempted blackmail, sexual situations.

‘Every sweet ounce of you belongs to me, doc.  Let Jensen taste you again, and he won’t wake up.’

The words felt like they were constantly swimming around in your brain with no possible way of leaving it.  The ink was so bright that it looked like it had been written with the blood that poured from Jake’s body after he’d been stabbed.  

The note in itself was paying with you in every sense of the word.  It was eerie and to the point, much like the attack on Jensen. 

It was left in your office in broad daylight. 

It could have been left by anyone. 

And that was what had scared you the most. 

“Doc?”

You jumped, nearly out of your own skin.  Turning, you were surprised to see Connors at the door.  He had his own arm held firmly to your next patient. 

Sargent James Buchanan Barnes.

Better known as Bucky. 

Before he was locked up he and Steve Rogers ran what could only be described as some sort of mob family, which quickly left a trail of bodies in their wake as they gained power. 

And both men were extremely paranoid the more successful they became.  They’d killed people they thought were traitors.  Women they’d slept with. Anyone that looked at them wrong, really. 

But because of their business, they often managed to hide it.  That was, until they were going to get caught on a tax evasion charge.  Their accountant who had been cooking the books had safeguards in place and had made it so that when he was abducted, a file went to the police, along with a tracker that was sewn into his suit to look like button. 

The feds caught Barnes and Rogers red-handed, Bucky with his trademark knives, still carving the man to pieces, while Steve had been busy re-counting the money that the accountant had tried to make off with; the accountant’s wife dead beside him, her neck broken. 

“Doc?” Connors asked, knocking you from your thoughts once more.  You bit your lip and stood, giving him a nervous smile, “everything alright?  I can always bring Barnes by later if you need some time.”

“No…no…it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “now is perfectly fine…I-I just-I was just thinking about Jensen is all…he-he seemed so happy the other day.  Then today, he’s lying in a bed, new stab wounds and all…it’s hard to imagine that someone would go after him.”

“Don’t take any of it personally, doc…these guys all have their own systems,” Connors chuckled as he entered your office.  Your brow raised as one of the other guards followed him in.  A woman, “hope you don’t mind I showed up with someone other than Magda.”

“Trust me, I’m always happy to get some time away from him,” you scoffed.  You turned your attention to the other correctional officer, “I’m-“

“The new doc,” she said quickly, cutting you off. She didn’t reach for your outstretched hand, and you retracted it, feeling awkward that you were left hanging, “yeah…I know who you are.”

“She’s got good working relationships with a few of the inmates…” Connors acknowledged, reminding you that while she may seem cold, there was more to her than met the eye, “she’s good at keeping the floor under control.”

“You don’t care for me much, do you?” you asked, testing the waters.  She raised her brow, but said nothing else, “alright.  Well, I’m here to help the inmat-“

“You’ve been causing trouble on my floor,” she said simply as she eyed you up and down, “they’re getting riled up over what you’ve been saying to them…some others are especially upset about Jensen and how he got shanked…”

You frowned, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Try not to rile Barnes up…yeah?” she growled out, turning and heading back out of the room without another word to you.

“Sorry about her,” Connors frowned as he led Bucky to the chair and bolted him in place, “she’s just…particular about the order of the floor.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Still don’t miss Magda?”

“I don’t know…I might!”

He smirked, “Well…we’ll be back in what, half an hour to pick him up and then we can switch him out with another one.”

“Sounds good,” you offered, trying to keep a calm face, “I’ll see you soon.”

You watched as he made his way out the door, closing it behind him.  After, you turned your attention to the inmate bolted to the floor, “Sergeant Barnes…”

His silvery eyes met yours, amusement lacing them.

“You’re not Reyes.”

“I’m not,” you confirmed, “I’m his replacement.”

“Hmm.”

“Is there something you’d like to talk about, Sargent Barnes?” you asked.  He stared at you without any expression and you let him take a minute to adjust.  You leaned against your desk, staring right back at him, “you know, James…this only works if-“

“Don’t call me James.”

This time it was your brow that raised, “don’t call you by your name?”

“No disrespect, doc, but I’d prefer not to be called by my first name…” he said simply.

“And why is that?” you asked. 

He looked away from you, not wanting to meet your eyes.  Your head quirked as you watched his body language.  He was uncomfortable around you, that much was obvious. 

“James…”

His eyes snapped to yours.  A shiver ran down your spine.  While you were definitely confident, there was something about the way that he looked at you that made you reconsider your choice in using his first name, “J-James…”

“You know what happened to the last woman that called me by my first name?”

You felt like your heart began to race in your chest, “I-i-no…”

You noticed his arms flex, and your breath hitched in your throat.  With a quick snap of his arms, the chain broke away from his bionic arm. 

But you didn’t even flinch.  While there was obviously something dangerous about him, you didn’t feel threatened.

“It’s in my file,” he muttered in a huff, “I’ll tell you one more time, in case you didn’t hear me.  Don’t call me James, doll.”

“Hey there doc,” a voice taunted as soon as you opened your door to your office.  Internally you groaned, seeing the obnoxious playboy bolted to the chair, his grin all too smug for the place he was in, “did you miss me?”

“Mr. Drysdale…are you supposed to be here?”

“Well, I told the C.O that I just had to see you,” he smiled even wider, “and you know, Connors…he just loves being helpful…at least he loves it when it comes to you.  You know…I think he likes you…”

You raised your brow at the inmate, “what are you insinuating, inmate?”

“Ohhh, not calling me by my name, sweetheart,” he taunted playfully, “there something going on with you and Connors?  Something you want to dish about?  I do love a good gossip session.  Got any biscuits?  We could snack and talk about boys and paint each other’s nails and do each other’s hair…but only if we get to have a naked pillow fight at the end of it.  Spoiler, I’d win, and take that pretty little cunt for a ride while you’re bent over your desk, doc.”

“If we don’t have an appointmen-“

“Oh, but we do,” he smiled, leaning forward, “I think we have quite a lot to be talking about, don’t you?”

“Do we?” you asked, your brow raised, “because it seems like you’re only in the mood to be taunting me, inmate!”

The look he gave you was like that of a wolf looking hungrily at a lamb, “oh, without a doubt, sweet cheeks.  We have so much to go over!”

“Mr. Drysdale-“

“Shame what happened to Jensen, isn’t it?” he asked pointedly.  You tried not to look at him, but you felt as though your heart was racing with the simple question.  A million thoughts ran through your mind as he continued, “I want to talk about something that’s affecting my mental well-being doc…someone being stabbed in jail-“

“You are in a prison Mr. Drysdale,” you said quickly, correcting him in a clipped tone as you tried to push back your own overwhelming thoughts, “those sort of things happen in prisons.  They can be a dangerous place.”

“Only when you cross lines that shouldn’t be crossed…sure!”

You felt yourself freezing as you sat down in your chair, “do you…know of something happening to Mr. Jensen, Mr. Drysdale?”

His eyes flicked dangerously up to yours, “you know doc…I don’t know if I do…”

“Oh…”

“Shame about his injuries though…they shanked the guy when he was walking away…that seems mighty personal to me…”

“Do you know who hurt Jake?”

“Jake, hmm?” he teased, “were you two close?  I thought that you weren’t because you know…you were getting him transferred to that other doc.  But if you were…it’d make sense why you’re so concerned.”

“Mr. Drysdale-“

“You know…our C.O did that last month…got him transferred to a different floor…but then the warden figured it out and got her transferred off the floor instead…”

You paled, “wh-what?”

“Jensen has this disorder…where he attaches himself to just about anyone that gives him attention.”

“E-emophilia.”

Ransom nodded, his smirk growing on his face, “yeah…the C.O…she kept the warden from firing her because she fucked him…Jensen…and the warden too…and me.  But Jensen was a problem when he started trying to treat her like a girlfriend.  You know what…now that I think of it, she does get around a lot…tightest little cunt you’d ever have though, I’ll give her that…”

“Mr. Drysdal-“

“You know what I think?” he asked with a dangerous look, “I think that you and Jake got up to some funny business…but I think the warden’s only got a crush on one broad in this prison and he’s fucking her six ways to Sunday…what do you think would happen if someone let it slip that you and Jensen got up to some conjugal time?”

“Ransom-“

He lit up like a Christmas tree, “Bingo…”

You knew you messed up when you called him by his name, “M-Mr. Drysdale…”   

“Suck me off and I’ll keep your little secret, doc!”

You paled, “W-what?”

“That’s my price,” he replied quickly, spreading his legs a little and pushing his hips forward in the chair, “suck my dick and I’ll keep my mouth shut about you fucking around with Jensen.  Won’t have to go to that C.O…won’t tell her about you’re little playtime…she’s awfully jealous, you know.  I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate going to Warden Bodecker…then of course…she’d suck my dick for being a good little snitch…”

“I-I’m not-I’m not having sex with inmate Jensen.”

“Well, not right now you’re not.  It’s kind of hard to do that when he’s lying in medical with that pretty little thing watching over him,” Ransom scoffed, “you got him shanked.  Right now, he’s lying in medical with stitches in his back and side because of you.  Fucked up or not, I don’t think he’s going to be crawling back to your pussy any time soon.”

“I think you should leave, Mr. Drysdale,” you said quickly, “I-I’m going to sit outside the room and wait for the correctional officers to come back.”

You got up from your desk quickly, trying to make a move to get far away from Ransom Drysdale as you could.  Anxiety was building in the pit of your stomach, but you stopped when your hand touched the door.

“If you so much as put a foot outside that door, I’ll scream it to everyone and anyone that will listen,” he uttered, his tone deadly.  You swallowed, looking back at him.  You knew that he would live up to his promise, “you really want your career to be ruined because of Jensen?  You’ve only just started it, haven’t you?  Come on, doc…”

“N-No…”

The word had slipped out before you could stop it.  The foreign, hollow syllable sounded so different slipping from your lips and Ransom went back to smiling.

“Then walk your uptight little cunt back over here, get on your knees, and be a good little slut and suck my dick, doc…” he growled, “or so help me god, I’ll fucking ruin your career doc…and that’s a god damned promise.  It doesn’t matter that I’m locked up on these bullshit charges…my name has more pull than this entire godforsaken prison.”

Your hand fell away from the door. 

You didn’t want to do it, but you knew that he wasn’t lying.  Even though Ransom Drysdale was an inmate who had murdered his grandfather for money, he still had a lot of respect and influence on the outside world.  You were certain that he would somehow cause a scandal if you didn’t listen to him. 

Your career would be in tatters even before you could have a chance at it. 

The world began to feel foreign as you felt yourself disassociating from your current situation.  You reached back to the door and turned the lock until it clicked into place, then sulked towards him. 

Every click of your heels felt hollow as you made your way back to his chair.  He had a smug look on his face as you looked at him.  Bile rose in the back of your throat.

“N-no one knows…no one will believe you…”

You were desperately hoping that he would back off.  But he only chuckled, “if you believed that you would have walked out that door instead of locking it, doc…now get on your knees…and do your job.  Do what you were really made for, and suck my dick.”

A whimper escaped your throat and you slowly dropped to your knees.

“Good girl,” he smirked, licking his lips, “now…I’m going to stand so you can pull down my pants.”

“O-okay…”

He stood and you felt your heart racing.  You were eye-level with his cock.  With shaky hands you reached up and tugged on his uniform pants, but they caught on to the obvious bulge he was sporting.  You shuddered. 

“Come on now, sweetheart…I don’t bite…not on the first time anyways.  They’ve got me all locked up like an animal, so I can’t play with you like I want to.” Your eyes met his and his look went from joking to serious, “take my pants off, doc…”

You reached up and lifted the hem, the head of his cock accidentally touching your fingers.  But his eyes closed, and he hissed with the feeling of that, and his cock being exposed to the cool air of your office as you pulled his pants over his thighs, letting them drop with a soft thud to the floor. 

“Well?”

You were shaky enough in your movements, reaching up towards him.  You didn’t expect him to grab you by your hair and pull you against his thigh.  His cock bobbed angrily at the quick motion in front of your face.  You yelped, “I said, suck my dick, doc!”

You reached up, tears streaming down your cheeks as your hand came in contact with the length.  His tip was angry and red, already leaking precum.  His hand on your hair tightened, and you began to feel the strain on your scalp.

“P-please let me go.”

“Begging won’t work on me, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, “Maybe if I was one of the softies…but I don’t give a damn about you.  You mean nothing more to me than a free set of holes right now…”

He tugged on your hair, and you yelped again. 

“You’re either gonna suck my cock or I’m going to start screaming, doc…simple as that,” he smirked, finally releasing you.  You stumbled back onto your ass, fear in your eyes, “see, I’m bolted to the floor.  You pulled my pants down…who you think they’re gonna believe?  I’ll tell em about Jensen, and say that you got him stabbed because he was gonna rat you out…tell em that you moved onto me, thinking I’d be some easy target…I’m not violent…I follow most of the rules…you’d never have a chance, doc.”

You felt the anxiety building back up in your stomach again, “th-they won’t believe you.”

He smirked, sitting back down on the chair, bottoms still around his ankles, “fine…let’s test that theory doc…”

He opened his mouth again, this time to scream.  Your eyes went wide, and you rushed him once again, “Please…NO.  No!  Wait…I-I’ll do it!  I’ll do it!”

You could see the smirk on his face yet again, even before you removed your hand.  You wished you could smack the smug look off his face.

He spread his legs once more, gesturing to his hardened member, “well, sweetheart…get started!”

“I-it was you, wasn’t it?” you asked nervously, “The letter…”

“Letter?” he asked, confusion lacing his features as he looked at you.  He looked puzzled for a second, before his eyes went wide and he began to shake his head, “oh fuck no!”

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was standing once again, this time he was struggling to pull his pants up.

“Ra-Ransom!”

But his eyes snapped to you, holding you at arm’s length, “you can stay the fuck away from me if you got a letter!  I’m not dealing with that again!”

“What?”

“I said stay the fuck away from m-“

The door went to open, but due to your previous idea of locking it, it budged against the frame, “Doc?”

You recognized Connor’s voice.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” Ransom screamed as you tried to take a step towards him, “SHE LOCKED THE DOOR!”

“Doc?  Is everything okay in there?”

“Tell me who wrote the letter!”

“Fuck off you crazy bitch!” he spat, “Unlock the door and get the fuck away from me!”

“You-you’re scared of whoever wrote it-“

“Doc!”

“Tell me who wrote it!”

“Fuck off!” he hissed.  Then he looked back to the door, “LET ME OUT!”

You ignored him, and instead of fighting it, and possibly making the situation worse on yourself, you ran to the door, unlocking it.  Outside the door was Connors and the woman CO you had met.  She was quick to rush to Ransom, worry lacing her own features. 

They spoke in hushed words to one another, but your attention was more on the other CO, Conners, “what the hell was that?”

“He was saying that he didn’t want to talk today,” you lied quickly, “so I-“

“Why was the door locked?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I came in and he was sitting here.  Guess you guys left him right before I came back for lunch.  I must have forgotten to leave the door unlocked.”

“You can’t do that, doc,” he said quickly, eyeing you up and down, before looking to Drysdale and the other CO, who were still muttering in hushed tones, “some of these guys are extremely dangerous.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Connors…can you take Drysdale down to medical?” the woman CO asked.  You lifted your brow in surprise, “he says he’s about to have a panic attack.  I’m going to figure out what they were talking about before it to avoid triggers in the future.” 

“Yeah…yeah…” he sighed quickly.  The CO quickly handed him off, but she stopped in front of you, waiting for the two men to disappear down the hall.  

“I don’t know what inmate Drys-“

“Cut the bullshit…” she growled, “I know Hugh likes to think he’s sneaky but he’s not.  You got a letter…”

You paled at how blunt she was being.

“I-I don’t know wha-“

“Stop,” she hissed, cutting you off, “I’m not playing little kid games.  Hugh is wound up beca-“

“You keep calling him Hugh.  Not Ransom.  Not inmate Drysdale,” you pointed out, cutting her off, “I saw how hushed his whispers were.  Is he doing the same thing to you that he’s trying to do with me?”

She scowled, “I can assure you that Hugh’s not doing the same things with you that he was with me.”

“You two are together.”

“I’ll only say this once doc.  Stay away from Hugh!” 

Chapter 4

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @cjand10

[s0nia246]

(Since no one wrote it, I did. Have fun reading and thank you for reading. Sorry if it's bad or has errors, I'm not the best at writing still.)

____________________________________________

You don't know how you survive this long in the Backrooms. You thought you would have died at level 0 with all the other lost souls, but instead, here you are, alive and breathing.  You should be relieved to be alive, you suppose.  It's a miracle,  isn't it? But you're not grateful for the circumstances. You were never given a choice to live or die in the first place, and now you're stuck. The Backroom has become your home. Your prison, really.

"Finally the exit is just ahead," Y/N murmured to no one and themselves.  

They were walking through a huge myriad of rivers, lakes, valleys, and even mountain ranges in the distance. A dense layer of green flora grows everywhere, composed of plants that your brain is not even capable of imagining. You don't know how long you've been walking aimlessly through the "Terror Basins", but you're exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. You'd like nothing more than to sleep for hours and years. Maybe for decades. 

But you couldn't afford to stop now. Not when it looks like there could be more dangers waiting for you at every turn. You just wanted to get home to your family and relax with a book until you could collapse into bed. You didn't want to face the horrors of these strange new landscapes. 

You walked through the glowing door and stumbled on the threshold. 

(Level 200 No Place Like Home)

"Where am I?" you murmured weakly.

You felt as if your muscles might tear apart at any moment. As much as you try to fight off sleep, the exhaustion will always win out over you. So much so that you don't think you could stand upright right now if you tried.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" said a soft voice from beside you.

 They sounded familiar somehow, but you couldn't place why.

 "We've missed you, you know."

The voice continued to murmur soothing words as if they came straight from the heart, but the owner was missing. You had a weird feeling about the voice, however, as if it were almost... familiar. Almost like you have heard it before, but where?  You closed your eyes and tried to remember what your mind was made up of before the fatigue set in and rendered you useless.

As you tried to piece together your memories, they began to slip away from you and fade.  One by one. Finally, all that remained were vague impressions.

 "W...Where am...I-I d...don't - know..." You tried to speak, but everything got jumbled up together, rendering you speechless.

"It must have been a long drive, your home," the voice mused, "Let's take a walk."

With great effort, you managed to open your eyes again, which helped clear things up a bit, but it still didn't make sense.  Who is this person? Who's talking to me? Where am I? What is going on? What does this person mean by home? You wondered.

"Oh sorry about that, here let me help you up. You seem pretty tired. Just lean against my shoulder for now. That'll do, dearie." 

The stranger held out their arm and you gratefully took hold of their elbow. They pulled you along gently and you followed. Even as lightheaded as you were, you managed to stay upright thanks to their help.  The stranger kept muttering softly to you all the while, and you were beginning to wonder if they were a hallucination.

"There's old Joe Vee, still running that breakfast place, serving the same people, day in and day out. Been doing it for 60 years. Remember going there before school, on those days with a bleak blue sky and cold air that chapped your lips? You remember, right? That man poured his heart and soul into that food. It's his legacy. His flesh and blood. He's been holding that soup bowl for 30 days. It's starting to fall apart."

You blinked, trying to focus your vision once more, but it still wasn't making much of a difference.  There was something very odd happening, but you weren't sure whether it was because you were too tired to see it properly or just because it was an unfamiliar environment. Your brain was still a bit hazy. 

"30 days...falling apart ...what...What are you talking about...?" you muttered. 

Your mouth and tongue wouldn't cooperate enough to form complete sentences, this is bad. Why can't I focus... 

"I'm - I'm not quite understanding,  um...." You looked around.  You two were standing in front of a sign, reading 'Old Joe's  Delight'.

"There's the school. With enough time, it could be your school, just the way you remembered it. Remember that year you went to space camp in the science lab and you met Sarah Palmer? Remember how she dared you to go into the basement alone, and you did it because you were 10 and stupid, and she was the first girl you've ever noticed?

Remember how dark and cold it was down there? Below, below, below. You remember. You were so happy to leave, to see sunlight again. To see Home again.

 If you didn't know any better, you might have believed you were falling apart down there."

The stranger's arms slipped around you again, and you rested your head on their broad chest, letting them carry you forward. They were warm, and they smelled good. 

"I wonder what Sarah Palmer is doing with herself now? You can find out if you want. All you have to do is remember. Bring her with you." 

"Rot," you murmured, barely louder than a whisper. "I...don't see it. It's...just a normal town...my town. This...is not normal."

They laughed, and though their body shook a little from the action it was quite pleasant. "This is normal...for you. Normal isn't always what you think it is."

As you leaned more heavily on their chest, you could feel them smiling slightly at you. You couldn't tell whether it was a real smile or a figment of your imagination, but either way, you welcomed its presence.

 "I know you must be tired l, dearie. It must be hard being back. After all, it's been such a long time since we saw each other, yes? One more stop to make. Just one more stop to make."  They stopped outside of what appeared to be a house.

"You can tell it used to be beautiful and untouched. Now the paint chips and the walls have grown too thin. It's not a place that's taken shape yet. You can make it better. Please remember how it used to look. How your Mother would take you on walks around the neighborhood on summer afternoons, the pure and genuine joy that came with your birthday, how it felt to not think about living and dying or breaking into a million pieces. You remember." The stranger was stroking your hair gently and whispering sweet promises to you.

"Everything's gonna be alright now." 

"You are home."

"Welcome home. We've missed you."

"We're here for you."

"The rot only grows when you're not around."

"Start building, molding. We're adaptable."

"We can be whatever you want, and we knew what you wanted from the second you set foot here."

"Keep that rot at bay."

"Just how you remember, whatever you want, all the time. You're in control here. All we need is for you to remember."

"So stay with us."

"Stay."

"Look behind you. Everyone's here. "

"Come home."

All you needed was to close your eyes and see your friends' faces, to see the smiles on their faces as they welcomed you home, to see their hands on your shoulders to show you love and support you unconditionally.

You couldn't resist closing your eyes and letting the darkness consume you.

"You'll be happy hear with us. Welcome Home..."

Again, thank you for reading this silly little idea.

[holdonletmegetthisout]

For God’s sake start a journal already.

Somewhere along the way I was told I wasn’t great at writing. Maybe by a peer… or maybe it was a conclusion I’d drawn on my own? I distinctly remember sitting in creative writing, struggling to conjure up a story from the one sentence prompt on the screen. I’d stare at the lines on my paper for a few minutes, write down a sentence, find it lack luster, erase it, repeat. The timer would go off and we’d sit around reading our stories aloud. I’d sit in awe listening to the unique plots everyone had written. The teacher would call my name, and I’d go red in the face as I read my story that typically started with: “One day _____”. The class would clap like they did for everyone else, and the teacher would ask if anyone had questions (as if my tired writing could’ve left anyone wondering?? Honestly a sick joke on her end). No one would raise their hand, and we’d move on to the next person. Although now that I think about it, I’m not sure if I ever moved on. It seemed I checked off the box labeled “not a writer” in my head and never looked back.

I’ve always loved to read. Fascinated by beautiful pieces of literature, and the brain that thought to write it down. It was as if they had an endless bank of words waiting around in their mind, effortlessly turning to poetry the second their pen touched paper. That was such a foreign idea to me. I would sit for what felt like hours, trying to scrounge up ideas whenever I was faced with the task of writing. It always felt like such an impossible chore to me. I also have a very strong love for music. It’s gotten me through every point in my life, both good and bad. I can make a playlist for any occasion, any person, any season. I’ll sit for hours listening to my favorite songs, dissecting the lyrics, relating them to my life. Easily finding hidden meanings to the words echoing in my headphones. My favorite songs touch places so deep in my soul that it brings me to tears. All this admiration for words… but no urge to write. It never made sense to me, and I never dug deeper.

One day (hehehhahah) I got a journal. I had seen a video of a girl who had been keeping a journal since she was 13. She was in her mid twenties and had years and years of her life documented. I thought about how amazing it would be to be able to read my 15 year old thoughts. They’d be immature and uneducated, and not all that great I’m sure… but being able to know exactly what I thought, on a random Tuesday in my 15 year old life, that would be amazing. I thought about how my 50 year old self might appreciate my 20 year old thoughts in that same capacity. I started writing as often as I’d let myself. I struggled to write when my handwriting was too messy, when I felt I had nothing to write about; nothing that important to say. Every small insecurity I had subconsciously tacked onto my writing abilities now glaringly obvious in the pages of my journal. Finishing off my entries with “P.S. my handwriting looks horrible today…and I know this was kind of a boring entry! Sorry!” Apologizing to myself?? For my own abilities?? For my own thoughts and ideas?? That’s when it clicked. I didn’t hate writing; I wasn’t bad at writing; I was scared of writing… scared of being judged. Writing in any format showcases your inner thoughts…your original ideas. I didn’t want anyone, myself included apparently, to be able to judge my mind. Is there anything more personal than ones own thoughts? More specifically a journal? Theres no form of writing more intimate than writing in your own journal. I had written for months with so much anxiety and restraint before I realized just how much I was holding myself back. I wrote about love; thinking I had found it, and the harsh reality of finding out I hadn’t. I wrote about friendships, work, good days, and bad ones. All with such apprehension. Holding back from pouring out anything I deemed “too dramatic” or “ too deep”, as if this wasn’t the exact place I should feel safe doing so. It’s sad really. Looking back at the problems I was going through, and realizing how much quicker I would’ve been able to get through them, if I had given myself the grace to write freely. You can heal a lot of pain by writing it down on paper. But not if you leave out all the terrible parts.

I don’t consider myself an incredible writer now by any means. I don’t consider myself a writer at all. But I know now that I actually do like to write. I still struggle to find the right words, and I know for certain my journal is full of grammatical errors. But I’ve decided my thoughts mean more than any mistakes made while I express them. That’s progress for me. My new goal is to find beauty in my own writing. I’m really not asking for much from myself this early on in my writing journey. Something as small as the gratification I feel when using a favorite word (some examples: drat, superfluous, somber, ennui, rats! (Yes, used as an exclamation)) Is enough. It just feels good to let my thoughts be free, I’ve got far too many of them to let them fester inside for too long.

[countlessrealities]

@evilmcg [x]

"You obviously do care or else you wouldn't be bringing it up to me." She argued. This had been the last thing she'd been expecting. It filled her with a sense of unease. She felt anxious as hell. She shouldn't care this much.

Care this much that she's upset him even if unintentionally. She found herself gulping. Nervously toying with her jewelry as a distraction from her feelings. "I'm not toying with you or lying to you. It's different, Mortimer."

She didn't wanna give up on her hobby with the Ricks in question. Besides she wasn't lying just to make him feel better or to cover her own ask. She did see it differently. "Our dates are special. Because you're my boyfriend and also because you were the first person I showed that side of myself too."

Sure Morty had seen a little of what she was capable of when he watched as she killed her parents, but unless she was in a jealous rage he didn't see just how far she could go. Just how dark her nature was. How into torture and the sound of screams she was. Mortimer was the one who was first allowed to see her most sadistic and ugly parts.

"Our murder dates are special. What we have is special." How was he getting her to admit all this? Why was she panicking so much? "I didn't think this was something you would be jealous over. Does this mean if I shared this side of myself with our boyfriend you would see that as unacceptable too?" Probably even more so considering the romantic relationship at play. What he had to say last truly gutted her however. She could feel the walls closing in around her. "I'm sorry. I'll do something for you. Something that proves I can be a good girlfriend."

Morty hadn't really stopped to think about what Meg's reaction to his accusations could have been. He was annoyed, so her thoughts and feelings didn't really matter to him in that moment. And that was why he had initially planned to say his piece, pour some salt into the wound and then leave.

However, those intentions were quickly forgotten the moment he saw the girl panicking. Her nervous gesture, the restless body language, the growing anxiety in her voice. By the time the apology slipped from her lips, she was sounded like she was begging him.

The show of emotions caught him off guard and left him confused. Why was she so insistent? So desperate to make him understand, to reassure him of the meaningfulness of their outings? Where was it coming from?

A few moments of silence passed, the heavy tension hanging over their heads as Morty tried to find a proper answer to all that. Not just to Meg's words, but also to her behaviour. In the end, he turned around fully once again, taking a few steps towards her.

"You're not listening to me. I'm not jealous, I'm upset." She was really dumb at times. Her agitated state was no excuse for it. "What irks me isn't that you shared the activity with someone else in itself, but that you didn't tell me and made it sound like it was our thing. Something you did with me exclusively."

If she had used her brain, been more mindful, they would have never needed to have this conversation.

"Maybe you didn't mean to, but you led me on. Deceived me in a way. And that's something I do not tolerate. Also, you didn't consider how I might have reacted to it. You didn't think about me at all. You acted selfishly and were self-absorbed, and that's what makes you a bad girlfriend."

He closed the distance between them, grabbing her chin. His grip was firm, not enough to be painful, but it still felt like a punishment.

"You can share that part of you with whoever you wish, be it other me or his Ricks, it doesn't matter. But in exchange you have to prove yourself to me. Show me that what you said about it being 'special' aren't just empty words. Because that's what it sounds me right now."

[farfromstrange]

I should go to sleep. Instead, I just had an idea while listening to my Harry Styles sleep playlist.

Hear me out:

Already Home Bridge. Matt and Eliza. Foreigner’s God.

(But also the entire song screams them.)

In alleyways –

“Has anyone ever told you that your anger is disproportional to your size?” he asked.

Eliza licked her lips. Dangerous territory. “No one’s been stupid enough to say it to my face,” she said. “Until now.”

What had she said about him being genuine? The anger suffocated every last bit of gratitude underneath a pile of rocks.

“Of course. Look, it’s my job to protect this city. I’m not leaving. If you know what’s good for you, you stop pushing your luck.”

The lower part of his face was infuriating. He smirked like the cocky bastard he was; she wanted to scratch the skin off his face and feed it to the dogs.

“You think so highly of yourself, it’s ridiculous.” It was her turn to smirk and she did it broad enough for him to see. She hoped it burned into his brain like hot iron. “I’m not letting you ruin this for me.“

“What?”

Eliza raised her hands. The smoke came back to dance choreography around her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” - she let the smoke rise - “but this one’s mine!”

The sensation was different than a punch. Energy surged through him, pushing him back in one fast wave, almost like he was floating. The ball hit him in the chest, hard, and it carried him into the door set in the middle of the rooftop, leading into a stairway down the building. Heavy as he was, his figure disappeared down the stairs. Thuds followed until he was too far down to care.

Eliza stretched her fingers. The red in her eyes persisted.

“Nothing personal.”

And fire escapes –

“God!” He tightened his fist around the handle. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” he said.

Eliza gnawed on her lip. “Yeah?”

He slipped back into his gloves. “Tomorrow night,” he pointed at her, “I’ll come to you.”

“What,” she said, “you’re gonna throw rocks at my window?”

He slipped through the crack. “If you don’t stop acting like an idiot, I’m gonna throw a brick.”

“Wow.”

“At your face.”

“Wow!”

Even when she believed him to be gone, he proved her wrong once again. He peeked his head through the window, standing on the fire escape. To be fair, she didn’t see it coming and it was his fault she almost banged it down onto his neck.

“Thank you,” he said.

corridors, I see your face // From aeroplanes to the bullet trains // summer skies to the pouring rain –

“It means that I am unconditionally, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with you!” Eliza burst at the seams. “I have been from the day you first kissed me. Hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since you stepped into that stupid interrogation room to bail me out. It’s because you came back. No one’s ever done that for me before. I was stupid and so scared of love that I pushed all of my feelings down. But you’ve occupied every thought I had ever since you left, and I can’t seem to get you out of my head. You’re always there, everywhere I go. Everything reminds me of you and it hurts to know you’re not there. I wondered why… this is why!”

Matt folded his cane, dropping it on the doorstep.

“I’m in love with you, Matthew Michael Murdock, and it feels so fucking good to finally say it out loud. Everything makes sense now. It feels like I can finally breathe again; after all this time of walking in the darkness, I’ve finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m choosing to walk toward it,” she said. “And I know that I’ve hurt you, I’ve hurt you badly, and there is a very big chance I might not be able to fix this… there is a chance that you have fallen out of love with me, that you don’t love me anymore because of what I’ve done, and I’d understand that. I’d understand if you rejected me or told me to go to hell, but please, say something before I make an even bigger fool out of myself. I really can’t find any more words to say that would make sense to anyone but myself. I mean, I’ve already embarrassed myself, so I guess it can’t get any worse, but...”

“Eliza?” he said.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

She gasped audibly when he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him with a strength that remained unmatched, and crashed his lips into hers.

[…]

He breathed into her mouth, “It’s gonna rain soon.”

“I don’t care,” she said.

They got completely lost in the feel of each other. As predicted, the sky soon opened up to release its tears onto them. Eliza had cried enough for a lifetime and Matt probably had, too. She didn’t even want to know how much he suffered at her hand and what it made of him.

The past mattered no more though. They were together, in each other’s arms, where they were supposed to be.

All the future plans we will never make // from a beating heart to the farthest place –

She loved him, she did and admitting it took so much weight off her chest, she forgot what else had happened the past hours and days. Eliza didn’t care about Natasha or the others, she didn’t even care about the drugs. At that moment, she craved only one thing and that was him in any way he could give himself to her, and she would give herself to him freely too, just so he could do whatever he wanted. She wanted to touch him while he touched her. Kissing wasn’t even remotely enough.

[…]

She wasn’t sure why but she associated the rain with him, not because it was cold or wet but because it had such a tragic beauty about it.

Growing old with someone required dedication, devotion, discipline, and most of all undying love for the other. They weren’t quite there yet, but she was sure she wanted more with him than just making out in the rain. She wanted more than suffering through trauma together, more than sex, and more than meaningful hugs. She wanted that, of course, but also the rest that came with love. The pretty and the ugly, the loving and fighting, the giggles, the laughter, and most of all, the happiness. She wanted to learn what it was like to be in love because she had no idea how to love, but she was willing to try, for him, because she was already in it. She was in love with him.

You’re already home // You’re already home

Anyway, thought this was beautiful, although the bridge is kinda sad but I thought about the love confession scene and wanted to do a little recap of my favorite scenes, so… have that. Good night!

Gonna tag the biggest Foreigner’s God supporters out there (so you guys see it first):

— @mrs-areallygoodlawyer @serenitroseyy @stilldreaming666 —

[honeyymistt]

hi honey! it’s so good to see you again 🫶🏻

i have a bit of a situation and I’d love any words of wisdom from you if you’re willing.

so two years ago, I met someone and quickly developed a crush on her. a few months after we met, I confessed to her and she said that she didn’t think she had feelings for me and that she would like to remain friends. I was totally fine with that, so the next year was fine. she went abroad for school the year later.

now she’s back and we are co-running a dance club at school together so we are spending a lot of time working together. we have a bunch of mutual friends now so every so often she comes over to my apartment since she’s friends with all of my roommates too. we eat meals together and talk a lot and we make each other laugh.

long story (relatively) short, my feelings for her have returned and multiplied by like a million. I say “returned” like they left but I’m not sure if they ever did honestly. anyway I feel like confessing to her again wouldn’t be the best move, but I feel like, in both the best and worst possible way, I’m going to EXPLODE!!! I’ve been thinking about so many things lately and how me and her are running out of time (we are both graduating in the spring) and I think that sense of urgency is contributing to my want to do something about this.

I can’t know exactly how she feels because I am not inside her brain. all I know is that when anyone mentions love or the future, I automatically and unconsciously picture her. it’s a little pathetic tbh. but I’ve accepted the strength of my feelings and I need a way to express them or at least control them. I guess I’m writing to you for any advice you may have regarding this.

tldr: too much love. not enough time or ability to express.

sorry for the super long message but I’m not sure what to do. thank you so much :) hope you’re doing well

hi lovey!! thank you, it’s so nice to be back <3

this is a such a sweet message. so many people would love to be talked about the way you talk about her. she’s a lucky girl!!!! i always think that clear communication is the way to go. these feelings are a LOT to handle, and if pouring your heart out to her is going to make you feel better then i think, why not? if you don’t think that she feels the same way, you’ll obviously have to structure your confession as just that - a confession. but if you have a feeling that maybe she likes you back, then you could explain it and see if she can confirm it or clear it up. like you mentioned at the end, “too much love. not enough time or ability to express.” i think communication can do wonders for this situation. if she likes you back, then yay!! go on a date!! if she doesn’t, then you move on with acceptance because you did all you could do.

you could always say something along the lines of i know that i already told you this a year ago but i still have feelings for you. i feel like you deserve to know because we hang out so often and because we’re running the club together. i respect if you don’t feel the same way and i want you to know that i’m not going to jeopardize the club or drag in mutual friends. if you don’t feel the same way, i understand and i won’t act on it. i really admire you and i just need to let you know to get it off my chest. (you can adjust this according to how you guys talk to each other and add more details to explain yourself)

i don’t want to say this because it might give you false hope but this is just something to keep in mind. feelings can change. and i say this for both your feelings, and hers. my boyfriend and i went on a date last year and nothing came out of it. we went on a date almost a year later (a few months ago) and it was completely different and we’re dating now. people change, circumstances change and feelings change. just remember that!!

i think that everyone deserves to feel love and confessing could get you closer to that - love with her, or love with someone else. regardless, the choice is entirely yours and i trust that you’ll make the right decision. i can tell that you have a heart of gold, my sweet anon. i am sending you courage and support!!!! i’d love to know what you decide to do and what the outcome is. my inbox will remain open and i’ll always be here. <3

[edenatday]

So as someone who wants to start with art but also likely has aphantasia do you have any tips for how I could go about drawing something I can't get a reference for?

For example: I wanna draw one of my characters but I cannot for the life of me get anything visual about them onto the screen so I have no reference to go off of, and with no reference I cannot figure out how it properly looks. Might you have any solution for this or atleast know of anywhere I could go to find some?

Oh gosh I appreciate the ask! I wish I had some expert advice but I’ve literally only just figured out I have aphantasia about two days ago lol! So this is poured out of my brain from being an artist for 30 years and my own common sense - you can decide whether it can be trusted haha and sorry it’s not a quick fix either.

The approach that comes to mind is to start building a library of your own so you can start self referencing. But that means initially letting go of that specific idea you have that you can’t find a reference for.

My suggestions are…

Find any pose with a similar body build to your character and use them to sketch your oc so you can practice drawing them in different ways. Then find poses you like regardless of the shape and try “mapping” your oc to that pose. (Such as picking a slim figure and using it as a frame to draw your muscly oc) you’ll be able to fit your oc to any reference, so it’s less vital to find such a specific reference. Don’t be too attached to the concept you’re after you have so you can explore. Looking for one specific reference can be a block, and also not much fun.

In terms of other references to enhance a character, I’d probably start a Pinterest board with outfits and accessories and do lots of little quick studies of them to slowly add more complexity & details. I’ve definitely made the mistake of trying to do all the things all at once and over complicating a lot without doing this kind of work! Start simple and build. I think this is key. Think of it like a puzzle, we have to build all the pieces individually outside our brain bc we can’t put it together on the inside. And like in a game we don’t get all the best weapons and armour at the start, you can upgrade over time.

Having to externalise the visual building blocks others are able to do in their heads, means we have our work cut out for us. But I think there are ways to make it fun and interesting. If they’re a knight, what do they look like commuting to work on a bus reading the newspaper? If they’re a old granny, what do they look like performing the high jump? This will give you an exciting visual library all of your own, you can then start to reference your own work!

Aim to have a toolbox of poses, activities, outfits, scenes etc. Those can be Frankenstein-ed with new external references to develop your work. So it becomes less vital to find that one reference, and more about learning how to build the blocks of your oc through exploration and familiarity.

I haven’t got around to it yet, but I’ve got a list of aphansasia artists to study. Glen Keane is the illustrator for The Little Mermaid. If he can create such an iconic character, so can we! I want to learn from his other aphantasia artists, so I suggest doing the same.

Most of my art is drawn from life or I make my own references specifically to paint from photos, I do a lot of portraits for example. So for me it explains why I’ve longed to do character design or fan art and just been so pants at it and it felt so hard I got 0 reward and gave up. I always return to realism, it doesn’t rely on my inability to internally visualise. Now I know about aphansasia, I can change my approach entirely maybe I’ll attempt some fan art again :)

I’m literally pulling this out of my head off the cuff. So I’d love to know if any other aphansasia artists have similar or better methods they can add to this, this because I am learning anew too.

Any feedback welcome, let’s work this out together :)