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writingquestionsanswered · 2 months

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Tips for writers with ADHD that get major writers block/burnout

Writers with ADHD and Writer's Block/Burnout

Tip #1 - Troubleshoot the Problem - I want to start here, in the most obvious place, because even for writers with ADHD, writer's block is often the result of a specific issue that can be surmounted once identified. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! addresses some of the most common ones. It's worth checking to see if something on there resonates with you as a potential obstacle to progress.

Tip #2 - De-Stress Your Writing Time - Human brains are wired to respond in specific ways to perceived threats... fight, flight, or freeze. Quite often, what we call "writer's block" is actually your brain having a freeze response to writing because it's causing you stress and is therefore perceived as a threat.

So, anything you can do to de-stress your writing time can help. Troubleshooting the problem as in #1 is a good start. Set reasonable goals and deadlines... you can estimate your available writing time and calculate that with your estimated WPM to see if it's even possible for you to hit your word count goal. Go easy on yourself when you don't reach goals... celebrate even the smallest of wins, because negative thinking makes writing more stressful. Do what you can to set up an inviting writing space, light a candle (safely), play soft music, use ambient lighting, have your favorite beverage and snack at hand.

Tip #3 - "Gamify" Your Writing - Turning your writing goals into game achievements can make writing fun, which is another great way to de-stress it. You can usually find free game board templates online, or you can create your own. I like to set mine up like this:

You can set as many tasks as you want (within reason) for each goal, and your prizes can be anything from a handful of candy to buying something you really want, or doing something you really want to do. Whatever works for your budget that motivates you to get the tasks done.

Tip #4 - Do an Immersive Writing Sprint Session - YouTube is a wonderland of helpful videos for writers... not just easily digestible writing advice and research information, but also writing music, ambience rooms, and one of my favorites, immersive writing sessions. These are themed ambience rooms with ambient video, music, and sound effects, but they also have a writing sprint timer on the screen, so you are encouraged to write for however long (usually 10 to 20 minutes), then you get a five or ten-minute break before the next sprint starts. These can be a really great way to get into the zone if you're struggling otherwise.

Tip #5 - Eliminate Distractions - When you have ADHD, pretty much anything can be a distraction. If my desk is messy, I'll pause mid-sentence to clean it rather than write. If there's something on my desk I can fidget with or play with, I'll do that. If my phone is handy, I'll pick it up and start scrolling through social media. If I'm listening to music with words, I'll go look up the lyrics and fall down some weird tangentially related rabbit hole. If I'm hungry or thirsty, I'll get up fifty times to get a small snack or drink. So, I clean my desk ahead of time and remove anything I might be tempted to fiddle with. I only play instrumental music (usually an ambience room). I put my phone on silent or leave it in another room.

Literally anything I can do to head my usual distractions off at the pass. For me, it actually makes a big difference. Try keeping a running list of things that distract you while writing during a week of writing sessions. Then, go through the list and write solutions. This helps you build a pre-writing session distraction elimination routine.

I hope something here will work for you! I may do a part two to this soon, so keep an eye out!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice #adhd writer

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wolfjackle-creates · 6 months

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Answer My Call Chapter 3 part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Answer My Call won by all one one vote last week. I was a bit nervous since I'm starting a new POV and I wasn't sure if I wanted to write from Tucker's POV or Tim's, but I settled on Tucker because it would let me dive into the action a bit sooner.

Story Summary: Danny's missing. The GIW have taken over Amity. Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are under constant surveillance and have been scattered across the country.

When Jazz's messages to Danny go to the wrong number, Red Hood decides to step in.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

Tucker was alone in his dorm room working on homework. His desk was in the corner in a way that meant his computer screen faced the wall. It meant he had barely three feet of space to sit in, but after everything that had happened, he couldn’t let anyone sneak up behind him to spy on his work.

His roommate hated him for it because it took up so much extra space in their small room, but he was never around anyway, so Tucker didn’t really care what he thought.

He jumped when a loud knocking sounded on his door.

“Coming!” he called out as he took the time to save everything he had open and close all programs. He slammed it shut and squeezed out of his chair, half running to the door. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. Tyler isn’t here right now, I think he said something about spending time with Liz?”

Then he actually looked at the people at his door. The one was a broad boy wearing a spiked leather jacket over jeans. The other had a bulky sweatshirt on and a baseball cap. His face was shadowed as he was looking down at a tablet, typing away.

The bigger one was grinning at him. “You’re Tucker, right? We’re here to see you, not Tyler.”

Tucker blinked at them. “Why?” he asked, confused. People had given up on being friendly with him weeks ago.

The boy with the tablet huffed. “We’re here to invite you to our club.”

Tucker looked between them in confusion. “What?”

Tablet guy still didn’t look up. “We heard you like ghosts. We’re the officers of the student horror club and wanted to offer you a spot. Mind letting us in so we can tell you about it?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not interested in joining any clubs right now. Thanks, but no thanks.” He went to shut the door, but leather jacket stuck out his foot, keeping it from shutting.

“Just hear us out. We think you’d be perfect for it as an expert on ghosts.”

Tucker clenched his fists to hide their shaking. What did they know? Who sent them? He glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tablet boy raised his head slightly, revealing a domino mask covering his eyes. He grinned, more a baring of teeth than anything. In a tone just loud enough to be heard, he said, “One of my associates is currently in Boston. I decided to come here instead.” In a normal ton he added, “Let me tell you about the horror club.”

Tucker’s mouth fell open. How? Boston? What had Jazz done? His eyes flitted down the hallway. But they were blocking his path and he wouldn’t be able to get past them. Dumbly, he stepped back, opening the door further.

Leather jacket grinned at him. “Thanks, dude,” he said.

Behind them, Tucker shut the door. His hand fell to his pocket where a lipstick laser was hidden.

Tablet boy was already pulling the blinds down over the window. When done, he handed his tablet to Tucker. It was open to a message that said: “We’re on your side. Turn off your devices. I’m going to set off a EMP and signal jammer.”

Tucker nodded and handed the tablet back.

Leather Jacket cleared his throat. “So, with the horror club, we meet once a week…”

Tucker only half-listened to his spiel. He used his phone to send a coded warning to Dani before turning it off. Then he went through his belongings and did the same to every laptop, PDA, tablet, and gaming system. If he turned on a ghostly recording device hidden inside an action figure, however, no one would know.

As soon as he was done, he nodded to Tablet Guy who pulled out a black cube from his backpack and pressed a button. The he pulled out another device and turned that on as well.

“That’s enough, Kon,” he said, pulling off his cap.

Leather Jacket—Kon?—grinned. “What, you don’t want to hear about my favorite horror movie, Rob?”

“I introduced you to your favorite horror movie. I know it as well as you do.”

Kon just laughed. Then he unzipped his jacket, revealing a blue outfit with Superman’s “S” on it.

“Holy shit,” breathed Tucker. What had Jazz done?

Tablet guy followed, pulling off his cap and removing his hoodie, revealing a red costume with a gold bird medallion in the center of his chest. “Nice to meet you, Tucker. I’m Red Robin, and this is Superboy. I’ve got some questions for you.”

Tucker’s eyes jumped between the two. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

Superboy laughed. “Didn’t expect to see us?”

Tucker could only shake his head. “You said Boston?” he asked.

“Red Hood is with Jazz as we speak. She asked for our help in rescuing Danny. We agreed.”

Tucker tensed. He was lying. They’d talked about reaching out to the Justice League dozens of times, but had decided they couldn’t be trusted. Jazz wouldn’t have gone to them. He reached into his pocked and pulled out the lipstick.

Both heroes tensed, though their wariness turned to confusion when they saw he only had a small lipstick tube.

Good, let them underestimate him. “Jazz wouldn’t go to the Justice League. We agreed it wasn’t safe. Why are you really here?”

Red Robin grinned at him and held up his hands. “All right, you’re right. I simplified for time’s sake. Jazz has been sending messages to a phone number she thought belonged to her brother Danny. But really, they were going to Red Hood. He’d been getting them for ages now, but was…out of town. As soon as he got back, he began looking into Amity and the GIW. When he couldn’t find anything, he brought me in on the case. When that still didn’t work, we called Jazz back. She decided to take a chance on us since Red Hood doesn’t work with the government. And, honestly, I’ve done quite a bit outside the law, too, even if I’m not as public about it.”

Tucker’s grip on the lipstick tightened and he stuck his nail under the cap, ready to flick it off at a moment’s notice. “Prove it.”

Red Robin pulled up his tablet again and tapped a few places. An audio recording started to play.

Tucker stopped breathing when he recognized Jazz’s voice. He closed his eyes and just listened. When he heard her demand a picture and the pose she asked for, he huffed out a laugh.

The recording ended and he slid the lipstick back into his pocket and wiped at his eyes.

“Okay, I believe you. What’s the plan?”

“Right now we want to make sure you, Jazz, and Sam are safe and find out as much information as we can.”

Tucker nodded. “I’m not as closely watched as Jazz. The school keeps close track of us students and the Guys in White rely on their records. Though they do have an agent stationed in admin who checks up on me at least once a week. I don’t keep my most sensitive belongings in this dorm as it’s searched every other week.”

Red Robin grinned at him. It sent shivers down Tucker’s back. “Does that mean your real stuff is kept somewhere else?”

Tucker smirked. “Of course. Cover yourselves back up; we need to go.”

Red Robin did something with his jammer and EMP and then began talking excitedly about the horror club again. “So glad you’ve agreed to come to our next meeting, Tucker! We’ve been trying to build the club.”

Superboy winked at him. “What do you say we get to know each other a bit before then? Want to come play video games with us?”

Tucker bit his lip and looked towards his desk and laptop as if he were undecided. “I should get back to my homework…”

“Oh, come on, it’ll still be there tomorrow,” said Red Robin. “Let’s go.” He looked back down at his tablet and headed towards the door, grabbing Tucker’s hand as he did.

Tucker looked over his shoulder one last time, but let himself be pulled along. They kept conversation light as they exited the building. Red Robin was an expert at angling his baseball cap to hide his masked face from every camera they passed.

Would he be willing to teach Tucker how to do that?

Once outside, Tucker took the lead. One of the first things he’d done after he’d been enrolled was memorize blueprints for every building on campus. On top of that, he’d made himself a good dozen different IDs. Three of those were copies of other students’. Those students he kept close track of to make sure their records didn’t show them in two places at once. Other ones belonged to various faculty and staff members. But his pride and joy was the one that belonged to Gabriel Carter. Gabriel was a janitor at the Academy and so could access any building. Gabriel also didn’t exist.

It was Gabriel’s ID that got them access to the basement level of one of the buildings. Hidden deep in the building was a set of rooms currently not in use. And in one of those rooms was a closet.

Tucker had built the locks on the door himself and, even having all the keys and codes, it took five minutes to get in.

He smirked when Red Robin himself let out a gasp of surprise at his set up.

-----

Hope you enjoyed!

Now, how did Kon get involved? Easy. Tim used the zeta tube from the cave to Titans Tower. Kon happened to be there. When Tim said he was working a case with Red Hood, the guy who tried to kill him once, Kon insisted on coming along. I debated having other members of the Young Justice, but I'm actually trying to keep character counts down for this one, so...

Check out the subscription post if you want a notification when I update!

#dpxdc #answer my call #wolf writes #tucker has learned a healthy dose of paranoia #his roommate tyler hates him #spends most of his time outside the dorm because of it #tucker enjoys basically having a single #he isn't able to relate to regular teens anymore #too used to fighting supernatural beings #and being persecuted by the government #and he doesnt want to be here #so he doesnt try to make friends #and discourages anyone from getting close to him

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 5 months

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hi hi!! saw the list of wips and was curious about the keegan ones :3c

also pls don’t put me in the basement i have finals next week and like three pieces i gotta work on!!!! and ig the petri dishes gotta be in the right conditions

no, no finals. only basement. mine now. <3

keegan number 1 for the wip ask game: soulmate keegan-- takes place during the mission "clockwork," for the cod: ghosts enjoyers!

It burns where he's gripping you. Sears your neck at the throat. It hurts so bad you white out for a moment. The man's arm tightens across your shoulders, pinning you to his chest, and you grab his forearm. He hisses in pain. Instantly, you both know what just happened: he soulmarked you; and you, him. He burned his handprint into your throat--the first place he touched you. You burned yours into his arm--singeing him through your gloves and through his disguise. Keegan knew his soulmate probably existed in the world somewhere, but never thought much about what it would be like to know her—if he ever had the chance at all. Still, finding his soulmate here and now--a Federation soldier in a Federation base, of all things--triggers an instinct in his mind that compels him to keep her from harm. That instinct wars with the need to carry out the mission at all costs. But his grip doesn't lessen. Instead, he tightens his arm around you, trying to keep a cool head. He drags you past his teammates--Logan, Hesh, and Merrick--and into an adjacent empty room. You can barely see anything, but you hear shouting and the exchange of gunfire. You struggle against his hold. "Let go of me!" "I'm not gonna let go." He shifts his grip to pry your head back, exposing the glowing soulmark formed at the base of your neck. His breath falls over the mark, and it glows hotter. Neither of you can ignore this. You're his soulmate. But here? Now? You're supposed to be an enemy; you're part of the Federation. He's not even supposed to let you live. But he's definitely not gonna let you die.

and keegan number 2: keegan in the cold-- with medic!reader. warning: keegan is mean.

"Why would you say that?" "Because I want you to understand who you are," Keegan hisses. "You can't handle using a gun because you're scared. You can't tell Hesh how you feel because you know he'd reject you. You'd be dead if I hadn't pulled you to safety. You're nothing without me. You're pathetic." You keep your mouth shut until the sting from his words fades. What he's saying isn't true. He's pissed and looking for control wherever he can get it because that's the kind of bastard he is. You will your voice to soften from anger into condescension. "Do you want that to be true, Keegan? Would it feed your ego?" "What I want is for you to admit that I was right," Keegan retorts, his tone growing more aggressive as you refuse to rise to the bait. "Admit that you rely on me. That without me, you'd be dead. That you're weak and pathetic and need me to be your shield. It's the truth, isn't it? Say it." "It sounds like you want it to be true." ”It sounds like you're avoiding the question.” "You want me to tell you I'm worthless?" “I want you to tell me I'm right." He leans closer, invading your personal space. "I want you to show me some gratitude for saving your life. Maybe treat me better than the dirt on the bottom of your fucking shoes." That takes you genuinely by surprise. Anger still simmers in your gut. But you tamp it down. You keep your head cool and your voice even. "Thank you, Keegan, once again," you bite out, "for saving my pathetic life. Happy?" "Thank you isn't good enough," Keegan growls, his tone dangerously low. "Keep talking."

wip ask game / more Keegan / masterlist tag

#but also hope your finals go/are going/went well!! boy do i not miss finals week. good luck! hope it's easier & less stressful than expcted!#ask #mine #tag game #snippet #soulmate keegan #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod ghosts #keegan #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #keegan p russ x reader #keegan p russ x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Don't Speak 24

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Two in a row?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The dullness of the home renovation show does little to combat your fatigue. You watch the drilling and trimming and plastering from behind a glossy curtain, yawning and swaying against Andy. You really just want to go lay down but you don't have the courage to insist on it.

Your eyes roll back only for you to snap your head forward, forcing yourself awake. Several times you feel yourself start to slump to one side. You don't know how much longer you can stay awake.

You feel the air in your nose clog and a rumble in your throat. You're too far gone to catch yourself as you succumb to your exhaustion. You sink into the fuzzy abyss, welcoming the rest for your mind and body.

You sleep without thought, without dreams, or worries. The deep blackness that blurs time and space, the very concept of your existence fading into the void. You forget everything for the dulcet comfort of unconsciousness.

You feel something on your arm. A long, soft caress. It's almost soothing, so subtle and gentle that you're not sure it's real. You moan and sniff through your dry nose.

"Amber?" You murmur, "I'll get up in a minute."

The hand squeezes and you curl your shoulders forward. You're too tired. You just want to sleep forever. You murmur as the touch descends to your elbow and the hand slips down to your stomach, spreading there.

It is much too big to be Amber. And why would she be in the bed with you? Against you? You feel the warmth radiating along your back.

You open your eyes as you're drawn into a stolid embrace. You look down and see the freckled arm around you. Oh. What do you do?

You feel his breath behind your ear, fanning up your scalp. You've never been this close to anyone. Especially a man.

"Andy," you squeak. "Andy…" you grab his wrist as your chest squeezes with panic. He needs to let you go!

"Hmph," he grumbles groggily.

You don't care if he's sleeping. He's touching you. He's got you trapped! You don't like this. You need to get away.

You need to sleep on your own. You need space. You need to be alone!

"Andy!" You squeal and dig your nails in as he hugs you tighter, "get off!"

You writhe as your voice piques. You flail as he keeps a hold of you. He shifts but doesn't let you go. You throw your elbow up and twist around, the impact cracking hard as you're released at once.

You hit the floor as Andy grips his cheek and grunts. You gasp as you realise what you've done. Oh no! You never meant to hurt him.

"Ow," he hides his face behind his hand, "dove…"

"I'm s-sorry," you stutter, dizzily getting your feet under you, "I didn't mean to–"

You step forward as he peeks out between his fingers. The hurt in his eyes gives you pause and you wince. Oh god!

"S-s-sorry!" You clap your hands against your cheeks and spin, "I'm sorry! Please! Don't be mad–"

You run without looking, without thinking. You hit the edge of the couch as you race frantically out of the room. You stumble up the stairs, not looking back as you fear he might be after you. That you may have just pushed him too far. But you deserve it, don't you? You hit him first.

You burst into the guest room and scramble to lock the handle. There is no mechanism. Shaky and terrified, you get on the other side of the dresser and push it with your shoulder. It scrapes over the floor until you have it across the door.

You slide down and curl yourself into a ball on the other side, heart beating wildly. No, no, no. Stay out. Stay out!

You can hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and his barely repressed groans. There's a tap on the other side of the door before the handle turns and the dresser lurches but doesn't give. You whimper and cover your head.

You remember the way the chair leg smacked against your head, how the blows came down over and over, on every part of you. You remember how it left your breaths rattly and your bones screaming. You remember how Amber held you and told you it would be okay.

Where is she? You want her there to promise you that you're safe. You left her behind.

"Dove, please, let me in," Andy says from the other side.

You don't say a word. You gulp as tears spring up. You don't want to remember. Stop!

"Dove, please, I'm not mad," there's friction on the door, "let's talk. What happened?"

You shake your head and ball yourself up tighter.

"Why did you hit me?" He lowers his voice.

You let out a sob. You don't know why. You didn't mean to. It never matters what you meant, it only matters that you're wrong.

"Dove," his voice rises again, "you can't just close me out."

You have no answer for him as you tremble in a heap, trapped between the past and present, paralysed for what's to come.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" He scoffs.

You have no words, no strength, you have nothing but fear.

He hits the door and you yelp, "Dove! Answer me." He snarls, "this is my house."

But he touched you. He was touching you! No, how can you be wrong? If he was touching you?

You're confused. It was an accident and yet you feel guilty. But Amber always says you should protect yourself. So why do you feel so rotten?

He huffs and clucks, "I can wait."

You open your eyes and slow drag your arms down, folding them across your chest. You wait and listen. He doesn't retreat right away, no he lurks outside and for a moment you think he's going to stay there until you come out. When at last his footfalls pad away, you're not relieved.

Eventually, you're going to have to leave that room.

🕊️

Eventually comes in the form of your throbbing bladder. You stand at the door, facing the inevitable, dreading the outside. You shift the dresser inch by inch, trying not to make a noise. You move it only enough to fit through the door.

You peek into the hallway and hold your breath. The evening has come and the house is dark. You creep out, hoping you've gone unheard. You've always been good at being unnoticed.

Until Andy.

You tiptoe over the carpet and glance down towards his door. Your chest twinges with guilt. You hope he's okay. You can only feel the force of your elbow hitting him. You can hear the impact repeating in your head.

You quickly flit into the bathroom and shut the door. You flip the lock up and stand in the dim space. You don't bother with the light switch as you do what you need to and turn the faucet on only halfway to wash your hands.

You take a breath as you face the door. Just a few steps across and you can hide away. You ease it open little by little and let it fall ajar as you see the shadow waiting for you outside. Andy reaches over to flip the overhead light on.

You chew your lip as your eyes sparkle with a sudden wash of tears. You teeter on your toes as the white bulb shines through the glass sconce and illuminates the darkening blemish under his right eye. You did that.

"Andy..." you eke out.

He looks at you, tight-lipped, his own eyes glistening. He takes a deep breath that makes his chest rise and fall. His jaw grits and cheek twitches. He puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I told you..." you blubber.

He shows his palm, raising his hand as he drops his chin. A long exhale before he lifts his head again. He lets his shoulders fall.

"We need to talk," he says.

"I... know," you hang your head in defeat.

He gestures down the hall and you offer no resistance. You walk ahead of him, keeping your posture low, wanting to shield your head as you expect the worst. He points you down the stairs and follows your descent.

You enter the dining room at his direction and you sit at the table. He pulls out the chair across from you and lowers himself with a sigh. He pushes his hands up his cheeks and winces, leaning his weight on his elbows against the table.

"You hit me," he says staunchly.

You stare at the table, wilting as you bring your feet up onto the seat and hug your legs. You nod.

"I said sorry--"

"Dove," he intones, "you hurt me. And as much as I want an apology, I want it to mean something. I want you to understand what you're apologising for."

"I am so sorry," you bluster as you snap your head up, "really, Andy. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to. I would never-- I'm not a mean person."

"You didn't mean to but you did."

"I was confused. You were so close and--"

"You fell asleep. I was keeping you from falling off the couch," he hisses.

"Oh, uh, well, I... I didn't realise--"

"You keep making these excuses. I didn't want to... I didn't want to believe it but I spoke with Dr. Kemp while you were... hiding," he rolls his eyes, "and he agrees with me."

"What?" You heave, nearly choking on tears, "about what?"

"About you. About you're behaviour," he puts his hands down, folding them over the table. You watch the effort he puts into his next words, "about Amber. I didn't want to think about it, to possibly admit it but... she isn't the problem, honey."

"What does that mean?" You wipe your nose, "Andy, what are you saying?"

"Look at me, Dove," he leans in, emphasizing the blotch under his eye, "look what you did."

"But-- but--"

"You take. Everything. People around you give and give and give and they get nothing in return. It's exactly what you did to her. Dove, I want you to get help, but you have to realise, you're not a burden, you're a leech."

You lean back, chest heavy as it hollows shakily. You can barely breath. Why is he saying this?

"No, no, I'm not--"

"You are. You're not stupid so give it up. You know exactly what you've been doing," he insists. His tone is even and hard but not angry. "I know you're not stupid because you know how I feel about you. And you push me away and make me feel like the villain. I'm the bad guy because I love you? Because you made me feel something and I let myself feel it--"

"Love? Feel? Wh-what?"

"Stop pretending you don't know," he snaps, "dove, you just keep hurting me. Look at everything I've done for you. Why would I do all of this if I didn't love you?"

"You love me?" You croak.

"I do and look what you did to me," he waves his hand at his face, "you did this but I'm not going to give up on you."

You bury your face in your hands and cry. Every word is like a knife slicing through you. They always say the truth hurts the most.

"Dr. Kemp is going to help you. He's going to help both of us work through this--"

"I don't understand," you say through your fingers.

"I know you don't, so you need to trust me," he reaches across the table as you open your eyes and tear your hands away from your face, "I can forgive you, this one time. And that's because I love you. Because it would hurt more to let you go."

You shake your head and clutch at your hair, "no, no, no... I never... I didn't mean to hurt you..." you babble, "Andy," you gasp and hit the edge of the table with your hands, "do you mean I hurt Amber?"

He looks down and swallows tightly, "honey, you know what you did. You know it. You have to accept it if you're going to change."

You shudder as the world seems to shrink around you. You really are just as bad as you always thought. All those years in your little bubble, with Amber lying to you, telling you that you're not a monster. She took your abuse and you took everything from her. How could you be so horrible and not even know it?

"I... didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't... mean to," you chant through thick sobs, "no, I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh, dove," he stands and you make yourself even small in the chair.

You wince as he rounds the table and kneels beside you. He hushes you as he touches your arm, rubbing it gently as he coos at you. You quiet to a hiccuping heave and look at him.

"Are you going to try?" He asks.

You nod and gulp loudly.

"That's good, sweetie," he praises and reaches up to caress your cheek, "Dr. Kemp is going to see us tomorrow and we can do this together."

"Us? Both?" You murmur in confusion as he runs his fingers back down your arm and takes your hand.

"Couples therapy," he explains, "we have to work on our communication."

"Couple... what?" You squint at him, lashes fluttering.

"Come on, dove," he stands and pulls you to your feet, "I told you how I feel, are you going to keep hurting me by pretending you don't feel the same?"

Your lip trembles. Do you feel the same? You don't know. You've never really known. You're just afraid and lost and confused. You don't want to be a bad person.

"You feel bad, don't you? For hitting me?" He asks and you nod, a sob wrenching in your chest, "and you feel bad why?"

You search his face, only looking in his eyes for a second before you can stand no more. You look at his neck and the tendons there, the way it bobs nervously, and the tension set into his shoulders. Your lips part and you puff out a shaky breath.

"Because... I love you?" You squeak the uneven statement through your quivering lips.

"You do but and that means it's going to be okay," he draws you into a hug and you don't fight it. You can't fight something you don't understand, "isn't it, dove?"

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #defending jacob #series #don't speak

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siilvan · 1 year

Text

proximate

characters: rodolfo “rudy” parra

summary: an undercover operation goes awry, leaving you and rudy in a tight spot – literally.

prompts: 3. "first one to make a noise loses" & 19. "the choice is yours"

genre: general, fluff, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: not proofread (i'll do it later </3), cursing, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, classic stuck-in-a-closet situation 😏, like two spanish words since i'm still a beginner lol

word count: 1.9k

note: RAHHHHHH RUDY MY LOVE‼️‼️🗣️ once again, shoutout to @glitterypirateduck for curating this event!!

also wrote most of this while fighting off sleep so if it's bad, i'm sorry, i have another rudy fic on my WIP list <3

things can't get much worse than this, right?

right?

"a simple mission," he said. "just a quick in-and-out." he said.

you swear, you're going to to kick alejandro with the heels that you're wearing if you come out of this alive.

as you go to round a corner, a few voices make you stop dead in your tracks and tuck yourself back against the wall. it's a small group, no more than four men, and you hold your breath as they stroll right past you without even sparing a glance in your direction.

if there's anything to be thankful for, it's the lack of discipline in the guards. they're all too worried about getting drunk at the party still raging elsewhere than catching the "agent" in attendance.

you let out a soft sigh as you watch them disappear down the corridor, until footsteps quickly approaching from behind make you jump and spin around, preparing to face the would-be attacker.

before you can even turn, though, a pair of gloved hands grab ahold of you, one coming up to cover your mouth as you let out a surprised yelp, and the other pressing you into the wall again. it's an instinct when you fight back, lifting your foot and stomping on theirs, praying that the heel of your shoe is enough to force them to loosen their grip and give you a chance to escape.

the grunt that leaves them – him, you realize – sounds all-too familiar. you hesitate, which gives the man enough time to yank his foot back and lean closer, mumbling something into your ear despite the pain lacing his every word.

"it's me—!" he says through a pained groan. the dots finally connect in your head and you crane your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

the man stares at you through a black balaclava, but his eyes are unmistakable. it's rudy.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his palm. rudy pulls his hand away and steps back, giving you space to face him properly. you mutter a quick apology upon seeing him stumble a bit, obviously sore from your attack, but he brushes it off with a casual wave of his hand.

"heard about the situation over comms, figured you could use some help." he shrugs as your gaze drops, dragging over the dark suit that sits snugly on his form. "we need to move quickly. the security's scattered right now, but it won't be long until they find the body." he adds, tapping your shoulder gently as he moves past you.

you follow close behind as he starts down the corridor that the group of guards came from earlier. "i'm assuming you mean the guy who's clothes you're wearing – did you not hide him well?"

rudy pauses at another intersection, holding a hand up to signal for you to stop behind him. "didn't have time to. i was more worried about you."

with the way he says the words so casually, you know that it's nothing more than work to him. helping a fellow soldier, assisting you in the field for the sake of the mission, doing his job as the second-in-command. still, you don't miss the way your heart skips a beat at the thought of rudy rushing to your aid for a different, more personal, reason.

after a mumbled "come on," he's continuing down the hallway with you right behind him, the distinct sounds of your heels clacking against the floor with each step and his leather oxfords echoing off the walls.

you nearly slam into his back when rudy suddenly stops in the middle of a hallway, opening your mouth to protest, until you hear aggravated grunts and conversation coming from further down the corridor. before you can react, though, rudy's grabbing your shoulder to guide you as he swings open a nearby door and hastily shoves you inside it.

he slips in with you and lets out a heavy breath as the door softly clicks shut behind him, leaving you in almost total darkness. you press your back to the wall and flinch when the handle of a broom brushes against your spine, making you shuffle forward a bit to get comfortable in the cramped space.

unfortunately, "comfortable" equals standing so close to rudy that you worry about him hearing the rapid beating of your nervous heart.

you're in a small room, some kind of broom closet, with one of your superiors confined and standing just inches away from you. the shadows obscuring your face end up being your saving grace— if he could see the way you're reacting to the close proximity, you'd probably die from sheer embarrassment.

"they were heading our way?" you manage to ask, whispering through the pitch blackness.

you can make out some movement in the shadows akin to a nod. "party guests aren't allowed in this area. it's safer to hide and let them pass by." rudy mutters in reply, shifting. his hand, covered by a dark leather glove, grazes your arm lightly, his touch leaving behind a faint heat that slowly spreads through the rest of your body.

he lifts his arm fully and finds something that you can barely make out: a string, hanging in the air between you two. rudy gives it a single tug and suddenly you're squinting, eyes adjusting to the dim, artificial light that fills the small space from the bulb at the center of the ceiling.

seeing him semi-clearly again is enough to make you stare, eyes greedily drinking up his disguise as he keeps his attention trained on the little bit of space at the bottom of the door. you manage to tear your gaze from him after admiring the way the balaclava clings to his focused expression, clearly outlining strong features that you know will make you melt all over again once the mask is removed.

fleeting shadows obscure the light coming in from the crack, signaling that the group from before is passing by. you remain quiet, practically holding your breath as you watch the last person's silhouette appear and disappear under the door, the group's conversation gradually fading as they continue down the hall without a single alarm raised.

rudy goes to open the door, hand firmly wrapping around the knob, but when he tries to twist it open, you're both a little shocked at it not budging. he twists it again, but to no avail.

"mierda," he whispers harshly, fidgeting with the doorknob. "it's stuck." he adds, shooting a glance in your direction.

you briefly meet his gaze and blink at him, swiftly understanding the implications.

you're alone, very lightly armed, and trapped in a stuffy closet with your second-in-command whilst surrounded by enemies. somehow, things did find a way to get worse.

the two of you fall into a tense silence as you take in the situation: rudy, testing the strength of the door once more, and you, carefully listening for anyone nearby with an ear pressed against the wall. catching a guard's attention isn't ideal, but two or three men shouldn't be too difficult to take out discreetly.

you don't hear anything for what feels like ages. no footsteps, no voices, not even a peep from your ally. with a frustrated huff, you pull back from the wall and settle for staring into the minimal space between you and rudy.

at some point, he pulls off the mask, allowing you to drag your gaze up to his uncovered face. you can see thoughts swimming behind his dark irises, plans being formed off the cuff, preparation for any and every possible outcome. if rudy's anything, it's meticulous and levelheaded, even in a bad situation. he's everything a leader should be, and you commend him for it.

the silence lingers heavy in the air, settling like an uncomfortable weight on your shoulders. you swallow down the lump in your throat awkwardly, wracking your brain for an excuse to break it.

"first one to make a noise loses," you mumble, sending him a cursory glance.

rudy chuckles softly, his shoulders drooping slightly. he meets your gaze and seems to relax, lips twitching into a small smile. "i think you lost when you said that."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly. "that doesn't count." you lean in, mirroring his smile. "you lost by responding, though."

he concedes, lifting his hands in a mock surrender. "you got me, i guess you're the winner." he says, before letting his hands fall to his sides once more.

you're left staring at each other again. the tension dissipates with those few words, however, and you let yourself bask in the warmth of his gaze. it isn't special, you know that rudy looks at all of his allies with the same warmth, but a part of you clings to the hope that his affection is reserved for you. it's silly – juvenile, even – to think of your teammate like this. what you have is just a schoolgirl crush, feelings that he'd never reciprocate—

"you look beautiful," he utters, nearly inaudible despite the lack of other sounds. "i, uh... wanted to tell you that before the mission."

did you hear that correctly?

you keen under his praise, muttering an equally soft "thank you" before mentally kicking yourself for the awkward response and opening your mouth to speak again. "you look handsome. maybe you should've been on this mission instead." you add with a laugh.

"you were handling yourself just fine." rudy says, eyes narrowing when you shake your head.

"there's a reason why you had to step in. besides—"

"—besides, why would i miss out on this view?" he asks. you stop short, jaw practically going slack. again, did you hear that correctly?

you blink at him, dumbfounded. "that's bold."

another mental kick makes you flinch at your own reply.

gloved hands wrap around your own, guiding your hands to sit between yours and rudy's bodies. he squeezes them gently, a comforting gesture that sends a shiver coursing down your spine.

"maybe this isn't the best place to say this," he starts, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "and, maybe that's exactly why i finally can say this, but... i've always thought that you're beautiful." he continues, voice dropping from a quiet timbre to a whisper.

"i want to be more than just teammates, if you'll have me." he quickly says, his grip tightening as his eyes search yours for an answer.

"rudy..." you trail off, before he speaks – again.

"the choice is yours. i'll respect your decision, no matter what it is."

if you didn't know better, you'd tell yourself that you're dreaming. it's not an ideal confession, not in the slightest, but there's something about it that's so very him. your chest tightens in the best way as you slide your hands from his, fingertips dancing up his arms until you cup his cheeks and bridge that final gap.

the kiss that follows is chaste and saccharine sweet. strong arms circle around your waist, drawing your body closer to his, grounding you in the moment as you threaten to slip away in the pure bliss of it.

after a few moments, you manage to pull back enough to give a verbal answer. "if we get out of here, then it's a date."

rudy chuckles, warm breath fanning against your lips. "keep your weekend open, cariño."

#fall4rudy #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #rudy x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #cod rudy #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra #sylph.writes

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imperhine-dea · 9 months

Text

aether x ghoul/ghoulette reader

- you finally get some time with your boyfriend <3

- no warnings for this one, only aeth cuddling. swiss/sodo implied though LMAO. it's a wip supposed to be followed by smut but i don't think i am finishing anytime soon 👍

«────── « 𖤐 » ──────»

You lean against his door, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You know your Aether has been busy rehearsing for weeks, but he finally has a break for the next few days. You've already got a list of things to help him unwind, and that includes making banana splits with ridiculous amounts of sweets in them.

There's chatter in the hallways and you can tell who's talking about what. The ghouls see you, nodding to acknowledge you while continuing the conversation.

"I don't know why this keeps happening to me!" Sodo says his hands raising up in defeat. Two of his fingers have bandages on them. "Ghouls are meant to be more resistant, yet I'm defeated by a string of metal. Damned bloody fingers."

"Be more careful. I don't wanna have to patch you have everytime." Aether sighs out, turning to look at him.

"Maybe you should stop beating your guitar like it owes you money, then." Swiss says in a voice dripping with sarcasm, one to obviously rile the fire ghoul up. "Find something else to release those frustrations on."

Sodo promptly flips him off with a bandaged finger, a bit of blood soaking through. Swiss sticks his tongue out at him. Aether and Rain laugh along as they pass by their dormitories, you can hear Mountain whistle a tune behind them. The ghouls slowly scatter to their rooms but not all of them go alone. You see Sodo drag Swiss by the arm to his room, and you mentally prepare yourself to overhear unholy noises.

Aether's purple eyes almost light up once he sees you. His tail moves excitedly behind him, a gesture you find endearing. He reminds you of a puppy sometimes, with how exciteable he can be. He quickly moves to hold your waist, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips. "Hey, babe. Thought you had more work to attend to?" He inquires, although you don't think he'll mind at all with all the times he snuck you out.

"Got it done early," you say, smiling more, fangs poking out. "Apparently the chance to spend more time with you makes for great motivation."

He hums happily at that, whisking the two of you into his room. Aether plops down on his bed, taking you down with him. After a few seconds of laying his face flat against the mattress, he comes to pull you closer. He tilts his head a little when you look at him. "Can we cuddle?" He asks you in a soft voice, one that always awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

"Of course." You reply, moving over. He takes you in his arms, letting you lay on his chest. Aether takes a deep breath as he takes in the feeling of your body against his. Aether loved holding you close like this, with barely any space in between you.

Yet somehow, you couldn't stay still. Not when it's been so long since you've had the chance to be alone. You hear his heartbeat behind you and you turn your head back. You press a kiss to his nose, and then to his lips.

He flutters his eyes open, a smile tugging at his lips. "Couldn't help but steal a kiss?" Aether shakes his head but brings his lips to yours as well. "You taste sweet as always." He mutters as his eyes close, arm moving to hold your waist. His breathing slows down as you two settle in, the only movement being his hand caressing your sides.

It's the best nap either of you have had in a while. And you wake up smelling like him, a cozy mix of dark chocolate and sandalwood. You take the time to admire his features in the soft afternoon light. Being careful as to not wake him up, you hold his hand and squeeze it gently. Each touch and each part of him had always felt like home.

#nameless ghouls x reader #the band ghost x reader #ghost band x reader #aether ghoul x reader #rh.aether #rhine.writes #im eepy

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 2 months

Note

The tenth Doctor in journeys end (i think?) said a TARDIS is made to be piloted by 6 timelords, what roles would each have in the TARDIS?

What roles would six Time Lords have in piloting a TARDIS?

This is more speculative, based on the known features of a TARDIS.

Console Panels and Systems

A TARDIS console is split into six 'panels', with each panel operating a different aspect of the TARDIS' systems. When there are six pilots, each Time Lord would likely specialise in operating a specific panel and system. Although the console layout may change with each TARDIS's 'desktop theme,' the six fundamental panels remain the same.

[Image ID: On the left is a top-down diagram of the 9th and 10th Doctor's coral theme TARDIS, divided into six panel sections. Each section is labelled from 1-6 clockwise starting from the 12 o'clock position. On the right is a text list of the panels and their names: Panel 1: Mechanical and Master Control, Panel 2: Diagnostic and Internal Ship Systems, Panel 3: Fabrication and Information Systems, Panel 4: Navigation, Panel 5: Helm and Dematerialisation Systems, Panel 6: Communications and Exterior Monitor./.End ID]

See this page on the TARDIS Technical Index for more variations on desktop themes.

👨‍✈️ Roles and Responsibilities

Here's a breakdown of each potential role and their responsibilities:

🔧 Panel 1: Mechanical and Master Control

Role: Chief Engineer

Responsibilities: The chief engineer monitors the TARDIS's overall operation. They ensure that all the mechanical systems and master controls are working properly. If anything goes wrong, they step in and fix it.

🛠️ Panel 2: Diagnostic and Internal Ship Systems

Role: Systems Analyst

Responsibilities: This person is all about the internals. They monitor life support, environmental controls, and the internal power grid. Basically, they make sure everything inside the TARDIS is working as it should.

🖥️ Panel 3: Fabrication and Information Systems

Role: Data Specialist

Responsibilities: Managing the TARDIS’s databases and info systems, and handling any fabrication needs. Whether it’s creating new tools, repairing old ones, or just making sure the information systems are up-to-date, they’ve got it covered.

🧭 Panel 4: Navigation

Role: Navigator

Responsibilities: Plotting courses through time and space. The Navigator makes sure the TARDIS lands where it’s supposed to, calculating all those tricky temporal vectors and spatial positions. They work closely with the Pilot to make sure the journey is smooth and safe.

🚀 Panel 5: Helm and Dematerialisation Systems

Role: Pilot

Responsibilities: This is the person at the helm, controlling take-off, landing, and in-flight manoeuvres. They handle the dematerialisation and rematerialisation of the TARDIS, making sure it takes off and lands without a hitch.

📡 Panel 6: Communications and Exterior Monitor

Role: Communications Officer

Responsibilities: They handle all external communications and keep an eye on what’s going on outside, involving sending or receiving messages or watching out for any threats or anomalies.

🏫 So...

Potentially, each Time Lord on the TARDIS would have a specialised role associated with a specific panel. Ideally, they're probably all working together like a well-oiled machine. However, poor old solo pilots have to jump around like madmen trying to cover all the controls at once.

Do we have any info on TARDIS biology?: Overview of TARDIS biological aspects.

Can a non-Gallifreyan benefit from a symbiotic bond with a TARDIS?: Non-Gallifreyan symbiosis with a TARDIS.

How to locate a TARDIS pilot: Guide for locating a pilot or other crew members using the TARDIS.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #ask answered #gallifreyan culture #tardis

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horriblegoosefest · 7 months

Text

The goose is almost here!!! 🪿

Rummage around in those folders you haven’t opened in years, dust off the cobwebs, and bring some life back to your most abandoned works. You said you’d come back to it again one day, but the days turned to years, and – what’s that I hear?

H-O-N-K, we will finish a wip today!

H-O-N-K, write it or I won't go away!

What is the horrible goose fest?

The horrible goose fest is borne from the many cries for accountability from fandom creators and the wish that someone hound them (or honk at them) into finishing their wips. This is a partnered fest in which one partner (creator) commits to finishing a work-in-progress and one partner (goose) commits to providing dedicated accountability.

Great, how does it work?

There are no prompts in this fest. It's designed to help you finish those languishing drafts and build relationships with other folks in the fandom. You can sign up as a creator and/or a goose. If signing up as a creator, you are committing to finishing an existing work-in-progress (fic, art, podfic, translation) that is not affiliated with other current fest collections or prompts/self-prompts (wips from past fest drops are fine!) If your work-in-progress is already posted to ao3, we will ask you to hide it by adding it to a private collection for the duration of the fest; it will be revealed with everyone's works during the posting period. Creators will upload their finished works to the fest’s ao3 collection.

If you sign up as a goose, you are committing to frequent check-ins with your creator to help them finish their work in progress. This will involve ongoing discussions with your creator about their progress and deadlines. You're not expected to alpha or beta their work. Think of yourself as a particularly tenacious cheerleader. You are also committing to writing a thoughtful rec of the work upon its completion, which will be posted on tumblr.

How do I sign up?

All participants will sign up by filling out a form on airtable. You can choose your own partner to sign up with, or be paired with a partner by the mods. Participants must be 18+. Due to modly time constraints, we will be capping the number of fic sign-ups at 35. There will be no limit for art or podfic.

If signing up to be paired with a partner, sign up forms will be used to help the mods best match pairs. All HP fandom ships and characters are welcome. Creators will detail their wip plans and accountability needs. Gooses will detail their accountability style and preferred time/frequency commitment – how often and for how long can you check in, are you strict or more of a softie, what strategies and advice can you provide your creator? The form will also have a space for geese and creators to share ship preferences and squicks. We will try our best to match compatible creator/goose pairs, but as with any paired fest, you'll also need to be open, flexible, and friendly.

Can I sign up as both?

Sure! But be aware of the time commitment of both roles and be mindful of what you can realistically handle. Your partner is counting on you!

What if there are more geese than creators? Or more creators than geese?

If we have an imbalance, and you are a good fit for more than one creator/goose, you may be assigned more than one participant to work with. We will do our best to take into account your time commitment and preferences, so please let us know in the sign up if you are willing to be paired more than once! For fairness reasons, if you are a creator assigned two geese, the two geese will collaborate on a single rec of your work at the end of the fest. You are always welcome to assemble your own team of additional cheerleaders if you’d like <3

If I'm a goose, do I have to be horrible?

The title is jokey. We're not really encouraging anyone to be unkind. Think of a goose as an accountability partner. We're hearing from lots of creators that deadlines and kind but firm expectations are what really get them across the finish line. Goosing is a big job, but in the end we're all rewarded with more works to enjoy!

What if there’s an issue with my pairing?

To avoid this as much as possible, we encourage folks to sign up as an already-formed pair. Prior to matching, we will share a list of the participants who have signed up. Feel free to use this to form your own pairs. We will be running a discord to facilitate participants getting to know each other. Please remember to be kind, and if someone’s wip really catches your eye, don’t be afraid to reach out - they may be eyeing you!

That said, we know this might be stressful for some, so we are happy to pair you. If you have any concerns with regards to matching, or at any point throughout the fest, please reach out to us. Our goal is to make the fest a safe space for all participants in accordance with our expectations below.

Speaking of kindness, what are the other expectations in this fest?

We ask that participants generally abide by sals, kink-tomato, and dldr, but also, in recognition of the ways these rules have been used to silence poc voices in fandom, you may be asked to tag content beyond ao3's major trigger warnings or the fandom typical disclosure of sexual acts and violence, such as racist tropes/triggers. Refusal to tag sensitive content may result in your fic being pulled from the fest. If you have questions about what kinds of content we'll ask you to tag or want a sensitivity read for your content, please contact the mods, we really are happy to help!

There will be email check-ins throughout the fest. Make sure to add our email, [email protected], to your contacts to ensure you receive these communications. Please only reply via email, not via tumblr, discord or any other messaging service. Please send any questions about the fest to [email protected] or #mod-help channel in the fest discord (do not contact individual mods).

We will post small (optional) challenges and games to participate in during the fest to hype everyone up. These will be posted in the discord server and on tumblr, so make sure you join the server and follow @horriblegoosefest on tumblr!

Submission info:

There is no word count minimum but we do ask that you submit one fic, artwork, or podfic. Fics should be beta-read. Remember that geese are not required to beta (although they can if they'd like to). Podfics and translations must have either blanket permission or consent from the original authors to be included in the fest.

Works can be submitted in any language. There will be a space on the sign up form to let us know what language you intend to post. If our mod team is not fluent in your chosen posting language we will contact you to discuss options to help us make sure works are beta read and tagged according to fest guidelines. You may be asked to include a disclaimer that the mods are unable to guarantee comprehensive tagging.

Creators will submit works to an ao3 collection and the following header information should be emailed to the mods. Multi-chapter works will be revealed on a single posting day. As the fest deadline nears, geese will write a celebratory rec of their creator’s work, which will be posted to tumblr. We are happy to provide guidance on writing a rec if you need it.

Header for Fic:

Title:

Creator:

Pairing(s):

Rating:

Word Count:

Warnings/Content: (content warnings as well as general fic tags/enticements go here!)

Summary:

#horrible goose fest #horrible goose fest 2024 #harry potter #hp fests #drarry #hp wlw #hp rarepairs #harry potter fanfic #hp fic

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inkblackorchid · 1 month

Note

Hi ,I love your writing and the way you write Yusei ,Aki and Faithshipping overall ! Would it be okay to ask for some Faithshipping headcanons ?

Also ,wanted to ask if there will be any new fic for Faithshipping in the future :)

Thank you so much! And absolutely, faithshipping hc requests are always welcome! <3

At some point after the DS arc (probably in order to take on repair jobs that pay decently), Yusei got himself a diploma to the equivalent of a high school graduation certificate. Aki helped him lots while he was studying for it, because there are a lot of subjects he never interacted much with when growing up in Satellite.

Aki and Yusei's relationship, once it becomes official, ends up suffering from something like the Tony Hawk effect—it's technically an open secret and many people outside the signer group (like Aki's classmates) know about it. Yet, more often than not, they still catch people off guard with the fact that they are, in fact, a couple. (This is absolutely based off @sojourner-between-worlds' hc that Yusei, post-canon, when he's a guy trying to lead a normal work life, also gets Tony-Hawk-ed a lot.)

Having never really spent much time dating before they met—Yusei because old Satellite wasn't exactly a dating hotspot and Aki because she was too scared to grow close to people and people too scared to grow close to her—Yusei and Aki both don't really know how the "dating" thing works. Sometimes, they'll manage to go on stereotypically romantic dates (and sometimes, Aki enjoys that more than anyone could get her to admit), but much of the time, they just do whatever comes to mind and call it a "date". They don't care what they're doing, they care that they do it together.

On occasion, when the opportunity presents itself, Yusei likes brushing Aki's hair. It's soft, he loves the colour, and she always looks very calm when he does it. It's something they indulge in behind closed doors.

Sometimes, when it's late and they have nothing better to do, they watch the duel channel together. Unbeknownst to their friends, their discussions about people's card plays can get downright philosophical, because at the end of the day, they're both passionate about duelling. (And really freaking good at it.)

Before Yusei, Aki didn't think she would ever be comfortable sharing anything than a double bed with someone else, because she needed her space. As it turns out, it works just fine with him.

Yusei generally isn't one for opening up about his fears or bad experiences in the past much, but when he's sleepy or when things weigh a bit too much on him, Aki's the only one he manages to open up to. They have a mutual understanding between them that whatever they share, it might be met with concern, with care, with sadness, but never with judgement.

Yusei is the first person to make Aki feel any semblance of actual pride about her powers. Divine tried, but ultimately still worshipped them for their destruction, which she hated. But Yusei regards the things she can do when she's not lashing out in anger with something like quiet awe, and it makes her melt, because that, more than anything else, is proof that he doesn't and could never see her as a monster.

Aki is the only one besides Yusei himself who's allowed to drive the Yusei-Go. Even Jack and Crow aren't, unless it's a dire emergency.

Aki never really warms up to the idea of modifying or repairing her runner herself, per se, but she likes watching Yusei do it—and manages to pick up on more mechanical stuff than she thinks along the way.

If somebody is rude to or insults Aki within Yusei's earshot for any reason, he absolutely stands his ground and defends her. If anyone is rude to or insults Yusei within Aki's earshot for any reason, that person had better run.

Also, to answer your final question, there will absolutely be more faithshipping from my side in the future! It features heavily several times in the WIP fic already—it's just that the WIP is sooo long and not even done yet, haha.

#yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski #yusei fudo #faithshipping #ask the orchid #these all feel very random haha #I hope you like them regardless!#a few are inspired by things that will feature in the next story!#faithshipping asks are always appreciated #orchid rambles

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unanswered-stars · 10 days

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Thank you so much for tagging me @jules-writes-stories @highlordofkrypton @achaotichuman

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I'm a but a wee babe in the ao3 world so just 7 but I have several WIP's that are on pause currently. I had originally had a fic planned for each day of Eris week but haven't been able to write in awhile so might be some time before those are published but once I start posting again you can expect Eris chaos to reign.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 36,487 I struggle to write long chapters and most of my works end up being around 2,500.

3. What fandoms do you write for? A Court of Thorns and Roses

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shadows of Regret and Redemption| Azris - My first published work. A oneshot that grew legs and started to run. I am not completely happy with it thus far but I have the end plotted and I'm excited to eventually bring that to life.

Daughter of Autumn | Azris - Now this one absolutely shocked me with its popularity. Started as a fun little drabble for Gwyn Week 2024 and of course turned into Azris central.

The Beginning and End of Friendship | Azris - So many people screaming in the comments at me on this one. More screaming to come when I post part two I’m sure.

Two Souls Entangled| Azris - A tiny part of my soul via a short poem for Azris Week 2024.

Heaven Help the Fool Who Falls In Love: The End | Azris - This is the first piece I wrote for fanfiction and it is my precious baby. Only one chapter posted but I have several in need of editing before I publish the remainder. It's very heavy and I haven't had the mental space to read through it again.

5. Do you respond to comments? Every single one! They bring me so much joy. I have currently stayed away from my comment section for my own mental health but when I start posting again I will get back to everyone's comments, promise.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? All of my works are fairly heavy on the angst. TBaEoF comes to mind but I think for published works I’ll go with The Ending of Darkness which is a short little piece about @jules-writes-stories OC Mithras x Sylvan which I have a part 2 almost completed which is equally as angsty (sorry). Unpublished works definitely The Burning of Leaves and The Death of Shadows which are two fics I had planned for Eris week but are currently on pause (poor Eris I was really putting him through the wringer for Eris Week).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Daughter of Autumn. Mostly because Cassian has the closing line and he just always says the darndest things.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have not, nor do I plan on it. Please don’t hate me 😅 Just not my writing jam. I love finding unique ways to explore a relationship and conveying those same emotions and feelings without the smut. That being said some of my favourite stories and authors use smut as such a wonderful exploratory storytelling device and it is delightful. I love reading others contributions to the smutsphere. So so many talented writers out there giving us all our smuttiest dreams. I truly do not think that my smut contribution is even necessary when you have things like To Become a Vanssera by @acourtofladydeath and Why Not Me by @thomasisaslut both absolutely rife with smut and use it beautifully to convey their story (albiet in very different ways).

9. Do you write crossovers? Not yet, and probably not ever because I can hardly keep up with writing ideas I have for one fandom.

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but it sounds delightful.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Azris most definitely for writing. I definitely have a big soft spot for Samwise and Rosie from LOTR (my husband is Samwise reincarnated and I am irrevocably in love with him). I have a WIP for Thesan and his lover and that dynamic and storyline has been so incredibly fun to explore as well.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started writing a Tarquin UTM oneshot that is incomplete and while I am still in love with the story I really struggled with writing the voice of Tarquin. This one will only ever get finished if I can finally figure out the right tone for this man’s internal dialogues.

14. What are your writing strengths? I have been told my writing reads like poetry which is one of the biggest compliments you could ever give me. I also love writing parallels but there’s definitely a lot of room for improvement there.

15. What are your writing weaknesses? Editing haha. But actually, I find that my characters voices don’t feel very distinct and that there is a lot of overlap in the way they speak and think and it can be hard to distinguish who’s talking/thinking. I feel like my characters resemble a cookie cutter suburban neighborhood where the walls and trim might be a different colour but they’re all built exactly the same. If anyone has some tips please feel free to comment or message me!

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I absolutely love reading it but unfortunately the only other language I know isn’t really a language at all. Pidgin, which is basically just native slang. I was playing around with it in my Tarquin fic a bit but seemed a tad too niche.

17. First fandom you wrote for? LOTR in middle school. I have a printed multi chapter booklet that is a rewrite of Sam and Frodo’s journey through Mordor that I made for my English class one year.

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? My favourite multi chapter by another author is undoubtedly A Court of Shadows and Ashes by @futurehunt Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate by @chunkypossum which got a stunning part 2 for Eris Week this year! My favorite of my own published works is either HHtFWFiL:TE or The Ending of Darkness. Of my unpublished works honesty The Burning of Leave or The Death of Shadows are both strong contenders. For non Azris I have a Beron fic WIP for @sjmvillainweek day 1 that will probably get prioritized over the other two.

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged): @the-darkestminds @born-to-riot @chairofchaos @thomasisaslut @chunkypossum @acourtofladydeath @shadowsandlint

#tags with stars #tag game #acotar #azris #gwynweek2024 #erisweek2024 #azrisweek2024 #eris vanserra #tarquin acotar #thesan acotar

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sunwarmed-ash · 21 days

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WIP Thursday/[Sinful Sunday post??]

hey so im gonna be taking time off writing for another job all next week so I'm posting this so you have something to read. DONT WORRY Sinful Sunday will continue, I'll just be busy this sunday and next making that capitalist coin!

This may turn into a fic, it may not. I wrote it right after I finished QAF for the 36th time.

Tags: Angsty steddiegrove, sex work, HIV+ character, violence

"Where do you go at night?"

Steve and Eddie are lying on Steve’s bed smoking weed when Steve asks the question that will inevitably change the course of their relationship, their future, forever.

"What," Eddie asks, trying and failing for aloof. He thought he had been so careful.

“You sneak out, every night. Where do you go, when you leave?"

Lying is the only probable next course of action. If he wants to keep Steve in his life that is. The truth will sever everything they once had.

“Dealing doesn’t exactly fit a normal 9-5," Eddie says. It’s a half-lie.

"You were selling drugs in Lafayette at 3 in the morning? Do you think I’m stupid," Steve snaps.

Eddie’s entire body flashes hot with the amount of detail in that accusation.

"What? No! Wait, how did you- hang on, have you been spying on me?"

"Answer the question Eddie!"

Eddie feels cornered, and that’s never a good place for him to be. Because when he feels trapped, he lies, and he can’t stop. He will say anything to cover his ass, even if its just to survive to see another minute.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..."

Steve scoffs at Eddie’s attempt at self ownership.

"Why can’t you tell me, Eddie? I mean, after everything we’ve been through!”

Eddie bites into his tongue. He wishes it was that easy. God, does he wish it could be that simple...

“i can't, not with everything baby. I'm sorry.”

“Why not?” Steve demands and now he’s angry. His eyes are lined with tears and Eddie can feel the beginning of the end coming like an approaching storm.

“Because you won't love me anymore.”

It’s the truth. And Eddie hates to even hear the words out loud. Because its gonna hurt so bad to hear it twice. From Steve’s lips. The soundbite will live with him for eternity.

“Isn't that for me to decide,” Steve objects.

“You've already decided.”

Eddie remembers the shit Harrington pulled on Wheeler when she hurt his frail male ego by just existing in the same space as another man. He remembers the hateful way Steve spits the word ‘whore’ because he associates it with his father and all of his sins. It’s how everyone says the word. Like its poison in their mouth.

Slut. Hooker. Whore. But that's what Eddie is. Until he can find something that pays better. Because he has to eat. He and Wayne won’t survive an Indiana winter without heat. And after Eddie was banished and then half-heartedly rewelcome into a unstable healing community, no one in Hawkins treats him the same. Weed sales have dried up. No one wants to hire him for any job. Not even the mechanic shop down the street that is desperately understaffed and Eddie is overqualified for. So what the hell else is he supposed to do? Wayne just turned 68. He shouldn’t need to work 12 hour shifts just to barely support the kid he didn't ask for in the first place. Eddie never should have been his burden. So this is Eddie’s way of giving back. Pulling his own weight so he didn't feel so much like a goddamn freeloader all the time. But could Steve understand that? Steve wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t, lets say as morally flexible as some other people.

"I can't- do this Eddie... If you’re going to lie to me." Steve says and one look into his eyes and Eddie feels what's left of the tie between them sever.

"I'm not lying," He insists but its a half truth at best.

"You're not telling me everything, that counts," Steve all but shouts.

"You don't tell me everything."

He referring to whatever the hell went on between Hargrove and him two years ago. Eddie and Steve arent the only people different after an apocalypse. Their previous heated rivalry has all but burned out. So has Hargroves own personal brand of anger. They move around each other like chess pieces, always conscious of the others movement to limit interactions at school. But after school? Eddie’s seen Billy’s camero parked at Harrington’s more than it's parked in the trailer park.

"That's different Eddie,” Steve huffs, scoffs as he pushes his hair back. “and you know it."

"How, how is it different Steve?" Eddie’s never brought it up before tonight. Eddie’s never been one for exclusivity, why the hell should he expect Steve to be?

"It doesn't involve you, or us. This does."

"Right,” Eddie scoffs, “Well, for argument's sake, it is safer for you not to know. For both of us."

Steve is silent for three beats too long.

Here it comes.

Eddie can’t look at him. His face goes numb before the words can hit his ears.

"Then you have my answer Eddie.”

It still hits him like a slap in the face. Steve’s done with him. And it hurts so much more than he anticipated it would.

Eddie knew it was only a matter of time. He knew what Steve wanted in the end, and it was still someone more like Wheeler. A sweetheart. A family. Nothing Eddie can guarantee. Eddie doesn’t have much to say in his defense. So he doesn’t.

"I'm sorry Eddie,” Steve, obviously uncomfortable in the silence, speaks again. “This is just, too much for me right now.”

"Okay,” comes out of Eddie’s numb mouth, even if it's the complete opposite.

Eddie knew a clean break now would eventually be better than enduring their relationship fizzling out slowly. But it doesn't mean the inevitable failure of one more relationship doesn't hurt.

-two months later-

“Munson?”

Eddie blinks, of all the people to find him, here, he didn't think it would be Californian transplant, and fellow trailer trash bad boy Billy Hargrove from Hawkins. He just wants to disappear into the pavement.

Eddie’s feet move to sprint, but Billy’s lighting reflexes catch him before he can.

“Where the hell are you going now, Eddie?”

Eddie rips away from him. He hates the way his name sounds out loud. He hadn’t felt like ‘Eddie’ in weeks. He’s barely felt like anything. More like Nothing and no one. A nameless face in a sea of sex workers, businessmen, and bar patrons that he cycled through every day.

“It’s none of your damn business,” Eddie spits, though it doesn't have much venom. He doesn't have the energy. He's sick, he’s cold, and he’s so fucking tired. He still has two more clients he can’t blow off tonight if he wants to have a prayer at ever getting unburied under his last hospital bill. Billy Hargrove and Hawkins and all that past shit is his lowest priority.

“People are worried man,” Billy says, stopping Eddie from taking more than a step away. “Wayne especially. Don't you give a shit about him?”

Now Eddie is pissed, because who the fuck did Billy Hargrove think he was, telling him about what he should do? Talking to him about Wayne. As if he understood a goddamn thing about their lives! His anger flairs up his cough that only aggravates the pneumonia-scarred tissue and then Eddie’s coughing so hard it nearly knocks him over.

When Billy moves close to ‘help’ Eddie slaps him off.

“Everything I’m doing is for him! You don’t fucking know shit, Billy! How could you, you're just a kid!”

And while Billy was 17 and Eddie was 6 months into his 23rd lap around the earth, he felt so much older. His tragic sequence of life events had aged him decades. He’d be lucky to make it to 24 at this rate.

Billy watches him curiously, putting together pieces Eddie doesnt mean him to.

“Why did you take off Eddie?”

“Why do you care?” Eddie doesn’t really think it's concern he sees in Billy's features.

“Wayne doesn't have anyone else. You scared the shit out of him when you left.”

“Oh and what, you two are bffs now,” Eddie asks bitterly.

Billy shrugged.

“We've been spending a lot of time together, yeah.”

Eddie scoffs wetly. Fantastic. Now even Wayne has his own Eddie replacement. A better, nicer son. If Wayne didn’t need him anymore, well, he didn’t have any more ties back to Hawkins. He should be relieved, but instead he just feels empty. Forgotten. Unwanted. Billy had said people missed him, but the only name he offered up was Wayne’s.

Eddie sniffs up the tears threatening to spill and reaches into his jacket. He takes out the seven hundred dollars and change he’s managed to squirrel away after his last AZT prescription refill and holds it out to Billy.

“What is this?” Billy looks at the wad like its poisoned, and well, he's not entirely wrong, it's certainly dirty money. But its still green. And that’s all the world runs on. And speaking of money, the man he was currently scheduled to suck off is honking at him from across the parking lot, eyeing Billy with violent intent. Eddie needed to move quick before this escalated.

“I’m not coming back. T-To Hawkins, I mean. I can’t, so I need you to give this to Wayne for me. Can I trust you to get it to him?”

Billy finally takes the money, counts it, and then his jaw drops.

“There’s over seven hundred dollars here Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs dejectedly. “It should have been more but,” but you got stupid and believed some pretty, coked-up twink instead of following your gut. And now you get to live with the weight of that decision, forever… “It doesn’t matter. Just, please make sure he gets it. It should cover the next few payments on the trailer.”

Billy looks at him for a long time.

“What the hell have you been doing Munson?”

Eddie scoffs before the car horn across the street blares loud, startling him right out of his skin.

“Nothing you want to know about. Just please make sure he gets it, and knows, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Billy’s eyes lower suspiciously.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Because it has to be.” Eddie can’t feel anything below his neck anymore. The honk is starting up again. He’s really pushing his luck now.

“Eddie, come on,” Hargrove begs and why does it sound like he’s actually pleading? Billy’s never had a nice word to say to him or Steve. And now he’s gone for what, a few weeks, and his enemy wants to become best friends? He doesn’t understand this plotline. He’s ready to get out of it.

“I’m gotta go, Billy. Please, look out for Wayne.”

Eddie leaves the very next minute and sprints across the street, just narrowly avoiding being hit by the semi that blasts his horn.

#like i said i may turn it into something more #its been in my drafts for like a year #steddiegrove #i have a little more written so lmk if you want more ill rb with it #metalsandwich #steddilly #harringroveson #eddie munson angst #steddie #angst #billy hargrove #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #links in pinned

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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

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Seven Years (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) (Horses and Zebras 3/4)

Author’s Note: So I wanted to post this earlier in the month, but my phone just decided it wasn't having it anymore and stopped working, and that old phone was where I had a lot of WIPs, and it's just taken me a bit to find the energy to move it from one phone to another and then edit it, but, it's here! This one is angsty, so strap on your sad pants. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's been seven years since Matt Murdock broke your heart, and it's taken seven years to push all of the feelings for him away. So when he comes to your apartment out of the blue, it tears those wounds right open again--not to mention the huge secret he brings with him.

Warnings: Angst (seven years of bottle up emotion, hurt, tears, emotional conflict/fighting/shouting, sobbing, two broken hearts breaking) canon typical violence (Matt getting seriously beat up in the black suit and passing out on Reader's floor), sweet delicious tension, swearing

Other Characters: OFC

Word Count: 2,955

You tighten the grip on your bat as you carefully walk from your bedroom down the hall to your main living space. You don’t see anyone, and part of you only thinks you were dreaming of it, but the distinct sound of labored breathing confirms that your was right.

Someone’s in your apartment.

Rounding the corner around your sofa, you see a masked man dressed in all black on your floor. As you raise your bat, ready to swing down on him, he speaks to you.

“Wait!” he pants, feebly holding up a bloody hand in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Matt.”

Matt . . . Columbia Matt?

He grunts and groans as he pulls off his black mask, revealing a face that you worked day after day to forget about. You are beyond confused, but you drop your bat, using all your strength and adrenaline to pick him up and place him on the couch. Once he’s settled, you rush over to where you keep your first aid kit, immediately cutting his shirt open and working to take care of him.

“How did this happen?” you breathe after a long while of concentrated work.

“It’s a long story,” he grunts, his face twisting in pain.

You swallow hard, nervous as you think of my next question. “H-How did you find me?”

“That might be a bit of a longer story.”

“Matt.”

“Just . . . I’ll tell you. I swear. But maybe not while you have a needle in your hand.”

Your lips pull into a tight line as you start to suture a large wound, feeling as if he’s just dodging the question. Doing the best you can to keep down all of the old hurt feelings from college, you finish patching him up and cleaning him.

“Rest here for a while,” you say as you take off your gloves and tie off the bag of supplies waste. “I’ll be back in a few hours to changes some of the bandages.”

“(Y/N), wait,” he starts, but you don’t do as he asks, throwing the bag into your kitchen trash before you rush into your room. Once your door is closed, you start to cry quietly, running your fingers through your hair as you try and figure everything out. Why is he here? What’s going on? Why . . . Why did you help him without a second thought? You’re a doctor, that’s why! But that’s not the whole story, you know that. You helped him so readily because he’s Matt. He’s Matt, for God’s sake. No one ever made you feel like how he did back in college. He was kind, compassionate, warm . . . and a two-timer. But is it two-timing if you weren’t even just a couple but more of a hookup?

“What the fuck?” you whisper, whimpering slightly before you collapse on your bed, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.

As you lie in bed, your mind racing a million miles a minute, something urges you to wipe your eyes dry and sit up, moving back to the living room when you hear him grunt in pain.

“You’re pulling at your stitches,” you say quietly, but it’s clear you’ve been crying. “Lie back down so I can change out the gauze.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Please.”

He swallows, his eyes blinking fast to fight tears as he does what you ask. Carefully, you pull the paper tape back, using clean gauze and cotton balls to soak up the blood seeping through his wounds. He air is charged with seven years of things unsaid and unresolved feelings, but neither of you dare speak it into existence.

“The stubble is a nice look,” you say quietly as you prepare a needle and some sutures to help reinforce what he’s pulled. “There was something endearing about the smooth baby face, though.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “You’re still using that hand lotion. That special one with the mastic in it your aunt sends you from Greece.”

You’re shocked that he remembers that, but you’re even more taken aback that he can smell it on your skin— you put a little of it on your hands early this morning before your shift today.

“Y-Yeah,” you swallow, doing your best to push down the bubble of emotion ready to burst in your chest. “So . . . Is this a recent hobby of yours? Dressing in black with a mask and getting brutally beat up?”

“(Y/N), you wouldn’t understand.”

“Sure,” you scoff. “What’s another secret, right?”

“Huh?”

You finish tying up his wounds as his brow scrunches.

“Is this . . . This that why you ended things?” he asks quietly. “You thought I was lying to you about something?”

“That’s not a simple question to ask, Matt.”

“But I deserve to know. There were two people in that relationship.”

“I left when there were still two, yeah. It was almost three.”

“What?” he asks with furrowed brows. “Were . . . Were you—?”

“No, Matt, not that,” you say softly, discarding your supplies as you sit down and lean froward, your elbows on your knees whalebone of your thumbs gently strokes the back of your other hand. “There was a girl, she had a really unique rich name . . .”

“Elektra?” Of course he knows. But as soon as the name leaves his lips, his demeanor changes. “What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “I saw the end coming, and I left before I could get burned.”

“You left and you never told me why. Maybe you didn’t get burned, but I did.”

“No, Matt, you didn’t. You didn’t notice. Yes, I completely cut you out, and yes, I stopped talking to you. I didn’t stop talking to Foggy. I heard how you were out gallivanting everywhere with her, throwing everything away for her and the thrill of it. You didn’t miss me for a damn second after I left because I was just a way for you to get an A. You couldn’t have cared less, and I sat and suffered the biggest heartbreak of my life.”

The silence is so thick it could be cut with a butcher’s knife. But you’re not prepared for how fragile Matt sounds when he speaks next.

“You . . . You talked to Foggy?” he cracks.

“I did.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“S-Sometimes,” you stutter, and you sound just ask broken as he does. “We get coffee now and then.”

You watch as tears glisten in his eyes. “What happened?” he begs softly. “Please, what happened?”

“I told you—.”

“That was a lie, (Y/N). I know it was. Something happened.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “That night, after we slept together, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was so happy, Matt. I was over the moon. Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and it was a bright red thong with a note from Elektra for your ‘next adventure’. It was dated two days before we were together.”

Matt’s tongue peaks out over his lips as he works to processes everything you’ve told him. “If . . . if she wrote a note . . .”

“It was in braille, Matt.”

“You . . . You can read braille?”

“We spent so much time together, I learned it for you. You were important to me, Matt, I wanted to be able to be able to share that with you.”

“(Y/N) . . . “

“Please, Matt—.”

“Elektra wasn’t in the picture while we were together. I promise you. After you left, after I couldn’t get in touch with you, that’s when I met Elektra. That’s when that part of my life started.”

“Then how did those panties and note get in your room?”

“I don’t know. But I swear on my life, my law firm, and my vigilante secret that I didn’t know her while we were together and I don’t know how those got into my room.” He takes one of your hands and places it directly over his heart. “I swear. I could never lie to you.”

“But it didn’t take long for you to start seeing her after we—after I left,” you say pulling your hand back. “How can you say you cared about me that much if you went right into her arms?”

His face contorts in pain. “I was heartbroken! I didn’t know what to do! You switched sections of health law, you wouldn’t answer my calls, I couldn’t find you! I thought something awful happened to you! I thought . . .” He starts to cry in frustration. “I was lost, and Elektra was at least something to focus on, because I had an awful feeling in my stomach that I’d never see you again!”

Hurt and rage mix in you as you listen to his words, how he tries to explain it—how he tries to justify it. “You could have tried to find me! You knew where I lived! Hell, you found me tonight, didn’t you? If you could do it tonight, you could’ve done it then! You could have tried to explain things! You would have fought for me if you actually cared about me!”

The silence is deafening, and you shatter as Matt’s face falls with your last sentence. “Sit here and rest,” you say quietly, your tone far different than what it was seconds ago. “Please, don’t move. I’ll be back in a few hours to change the dressing. I don’t want you pulling at more of your stitches. Anymore than you already have, at least.”

Before you can move away, Matt takes your hand in his. Every last function in your body freezes as you stare down at your hand, completely wrapped in his. It’s warm and comforting, and even with the calloused and scars on his hands, they’re so incredibly soft. His face is fragile and vulnerable as he tilts his head toward you.

“This isn’t . . . I-I have a boyfriend,” you breathe as you pull from his touch. “I have a boyfriend.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you repeat, but it doesn’t sound like you're trying to tell him a fact. It’s like you’re repeating it to yourself to remind you that you’re seeing someone so you don’t do anything with Matt.

“Do you feel about him how you did about me?”

“That’s not a fair question.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Matt—.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“No what? You won’t answer, or you don’t feel that same?”

“I could never feel the same about anyone like I did for you.” You finally pull your hand from his as you wipe away the hot tears that fall from your lashes. “You were the love of my life, and I was a notch in your belt.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”

“No—you’re saying I didn’t love you. I loved you more than anything.”

“So you loved me so much you waited seven years to get this all out?”

“(Y/N), I told you, I didn’t know what to do when you weren’t with me in the morning. And then after . . . I didn’t know how to go about it all, and the more time passed, the more it felt like I couldn’t do anything. Stop trying to put this just on me.”

“I’m not trying to, I’m trying to figure this out. Words and actions don’t match up. You’re telling me you were broken and lost when you couldn’t find me. Four days later, Foggy tells me you and him crash a party and then you start doing God knows what with Elektra. I could see you on campus, how you acted with each other. How she looked at you and how you leaned into her. There was affection and tenderness and passion—things that I wanted to have with you. I felt every last strand of my soul shatter when I saw you because every time I did, it told me that I wasn’t enough. That there was someone better suited for you than me. Matt, you have to understand where I’m coming with this.”

He closes his eyes and dips his head. “I do. I . . . I wish I could do it all over. But . . . (Y/N), it’s all so complicated. I want you in my life, and I’ve wanted that since the day we met, but I know the reality. My life—even then—if I kept you in it, you would be hurt far worse than a broken heart. I mean, you saw how I came through your window.”

Your throat is thick as you swallow. “So even then, even in Columbia . . .?”

“No. But my past . . . My past followed me to Columbia. I didn’t know it then, but it’s why Elektra came into the picture. It’s why I’m Daredevil now. If you had been with me for any of that—for a second of that, (Y/N)—you would’ve gotten hurt, I’m sure of it. And if you got hurt . . .” It’s his turn to wipe away tears. “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

“But what if you had told me?”

“It’s not that simple, and I know you know that.”

“I don’t mean a casual sentence drop in a conversation, Matt, I mean an actual discussion where we get to talk everything out, and where you can explain things.”

“Even if I had done that—.”

“I swear if you say it’s more complicated that that, I will slap you.”

His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sigh. “I’ve already told you, though. I’d expose you to the possibility of getting hurt if we did that.”

“How would that be different than what we’re doing right now, Matt?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his jaw just hangs, unable to form a sentence because he knows you’re right. He lets out a breath, his eyes blinking rapidly as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“I can count on one hand the things in this world that are most precious to me,” he starts softly, holding up the hand on his good arm. “Foggy, helping others, my faith, and you. If I did something to jeopardize any of those in any way . . . I’d be questioning who I am as a person.” He grunts in pain as he sits up, his labored breathing evidence of his determination to get it all out, and for once in his life be vulnerable to someone that matters to him. “I thought that when you left, maybe it was good, you know? That you could see my red flags before . . . Fuck, I don’t know. And then when I started doing this . . . one night, I just remember thinking over and over, ‘I’m so glad (Y/N) can’t see me like this now. It would kill her.’ Not just my bruises and cuts and scars, but what I became—what I am. Part of myself disappeared after you left. The happiness, the light . . . it started to disappear when I woke up without you in my arms one morning, and I’ve never been able to find it since.”

“Matt,” you breathe.

“I want to find it again. I want to find that happiness I had with you in college. But I can’t find it without you. Being here talking with you, I know that, now. I need you. Don’t go,” he say softly as your noses rest together, your lips extremely close together. “Please don’t go.”

As your brain misfires with his words spinning in your head, his touch intoxicating your senses, he squeezes your hand and pulls you close, pressing a deep, tender, urgent kiss to your lips. He’s begging you not to go, silently pleading for you to change your mind about whatever you’re thinking of that doesn’t involve him.

“I can’t loose you again,” he says against your lips. “Please. I can’t survive that again.”

“Matt . . . This isn’t the right time.”

“It’ll never be the right time. But there’s a reason that I got hurt near you home. There’s a reason why you helped when you could’ve turned me away. There’s a reason that we’re still talking. Please, please don’t go. Stay with me. Let’s . . . Let’s figure this out. Please.”

“You said that you can’t survive loosing me again. But I gain survive getting hurt like that again.”

“I won’t. I swear I’ll never hurt you like that, I’ll never let you get hurt like that again. I just need you.”

It breaks your heart how the tears stain his face, his eyes even puffier from the drops he refuses to let fall, telling you that you hold the last glimmer of hope he has.

“I . . . I—,” you start when your phone begins to ring. Glancing over, you see your phone light up with your boyfriend’s name on the screen. Pulling your hand from Matt’s, you go into the kitchen and pick up.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey, baby,” he says, his words laced with exhaustion. “ER is short staffed.”

“What else is new?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m not getting out of here for a long while. I’ll probably be leaving the ER when you walk into the lobby in the morning, in all honesty. But I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” you hum. “Remember to try and take a rest if there’s a lull.”

“Always looking out for me. Get some rest yourself, babe. I’ll see you.”

“Night, Chris.”

When you turn around, you see that your couch vacant, Matt absolutely no where to be found. Feeling your lip quiver uncontrollably, you drop your phone and fall to your knees, absolutely blubbering, your heart shattering to pieces just like it did all those years ago. Only this time, you’re the one who is left behind.

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

Fic Taglist: @linasotaaaaaaaa @scarletsloveletter @maladaptivedaydreamingbum

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aylish91 · 3 months

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Hey, if your ask game about your WIPs is still going on- can I ask about the Death god one?? 👀👀👀 you have grabbed my attention and strapped it down. I am feral at your gates for that rn. 😳 I loveeee your writing SO MUCH so scraps like these are AWESOME!! 💖💖💖

Thank you so much lylia!!! You chose a good one, this one also has multiple stories/ideas in it~ Hope you enjoy!!

The first is about how our dear reader has just lost their grandmother and older brother. Following one of their last requests, you travel to your grandmother's old village to give prayer at "the old gods shrines". However, you can't give a meaningful prayer, if the shrine is in disrepair, so you promise to fix that which is broken first.

Interesting things begin to happen from there~

The Second is "To Deal With Death". It begins with the near death of Reader. On the verge of dying, however, they try to barter with death. Not to let them live, but to allow them a couple more days, maybe a week at most to make sure things are alright with their loved ones.

Death at first, reassures you that everything will be fine, and that your time has come. Everything changes, however, once you manage to throw yourself into his embrace in your anguished pleading...

The last is "Death and Fate". You are Fate, a god who just want's to be left alone to your own devises. Death has made a sudden discovery of your presence by the way of Life. You are not sure you are too pleased by this. He has made it perfectly clear that he is unwilling to leave you alone.

Your powers are quite interesting after all~

~~~

As you wondered through, the darkening sky forced you to rest for the night. The obvious choice would have been to stay in either Life’s or The King’s shrines, those being the biggest and in the best shape. Instead, you found yourself curling up in a smaller humbler shrine in the most disrepair. It’s black marble steps and alter had lost its shine, the roof on the verge of caving in. What few pots and idols had long since broken as the webs and dust from decades clung to the shabby space. But it was dry enough, and a small fire in the one remaining brazier gave you enough warmth to last the night. Giving prayer, you gave thanks for the sanctuary and promised to fix that which was broken, quickly settling in for sleep. You tried not to dwell on how the shadows seemed to shift and settle during the night

You were “suppose to go”. “It was time”. “You had done your part...” But you couldn’t. Not yet. Even as Death, in all his mysterious glory, stood before your hospital bed you plead for just a little more time. Not much, you knew it was selfish to even ask, but a few more days. A couple weeks tops. Just enough to make sure. Make sure your sister would be okay.

“It’s you.” “My Goddess, you wound me. Do you think so poorly of me that my presence alone would cause such impolite greeting?” Death, slunk into a chair across from you as you worked at your table, placing his head in his hand to watch you. It was a bold move. You both knew it. You were already vexed with him over the incident regarding the fate of a new hero. If you hadn’t interfered directly, you weren’t sure if Lord Death would have left the mortal alone, balancing the soul between life and death as he had. It was even more frustrating for you by the fact he shouldn’t have been there to begin with. The hero was never meant to die. Death merely wanted to tease you, forcing you to interact instead of merely observe. You took a deep breath and sighed, putting your unfinished threads away and out of sight.

#laylia9000 #my wips #my writing #undertale #reapertale #death sans #reaper sans #x reader #I really need to finish more of my wips #the shadows are alive!#mysterious mystery #grumpy gods #you touched... the skelleton...#look what you did #asks

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Don't Speak 31

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Is it Monday already?

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You sit in the waiting room, anxious and squirmy as Andy keeps his hand on yours. When you start to fidget, he squeezes and you stop. He doesn't tell you to but you can sense his agitation. It only adds to your own impatience.

When Dr. Kemp emerges to call you in, you have to keep yourself from jumping up. You're caught in the urge to both run away and run towards him. With all the thoughts you've had about him, especially while exploring, you're set alight just at the sight of him.

Andy accompanies you in. You almost forgot he would be there too. You near Kemp with a smile and he watches you with placid blue eyes. His coolness makes you self-conscious. The one thing you can never tell him is how he makes you feel.

He welcomes you in as usual. Before you can claim the chair you often sit in, Andy nudges you towards the chaise long. You hesitate but redirect, sitting with him on the dimpled leather.

Dr. Kemp shuts the door and crosses the office, sitting in the other chair as he leans an arm against the side. He gives a thoughtful hum as he considers both of you. Andy reaches to put his hand over yours, once more tightening his grip.

"So… how are things? Are we seeing progress?" Kemp asks brightly. "I'm sensing… improvement."

You just nod as Andy clears his throat and shifts. "I think… I think so," his fingers twiddle on his other thigh, "we have been… intimate. Somewhat, right, honey?"

You shy away and give another nod. Humiliated.

"In what way?" Kemp prompts.

You nearly choke and look at him with round eyes.

"This is a safe space, so we can be honest," he coaxes as he notes your shock, "have you both… tend to each other?"

Andy sighs and his fingers curl around yours. You wince.

"Yeah, but… she… she drank a bit too much so… she doesn't remember…" Andy huffs, "so… I tried."

"I'm sorry," you squeak, "I didn't mean to."

"Hm, and is there a reason you were drinking?" Kemp asks you.

"Well, uh, no. Andy gave me a beer, so– I don't really–"

"So you gave her a drink and are mad that it affected her?" He challenges Andy and you flinch again.

"She's an adult–"

"All and well but you can't get upset. What can you expect?" Kemp reprimands and Andy tenses, grumbling under his breath.

"So," Kemp redirects back to you, "you have… shown Andy that you're committed? Spoken in his love language, but has he done the same for you?"

You struggle not to rip your hand out of Andy's. You don't know what to say. You don't know what you want, especially from Andy.

"I… guess. I don't know?" You sputter, "he… he's nice. He…"

"I buy her things, I do stuff for her all the time–" Andy interjects.

"Please," Kemp silences him with a wave of his hand, "Andy is obviously an affectionate person, but what do you need?"

You gulp and shrug. You really don't know. You just open and close your mouth like a fish.

"Here's what we do. Andy, you cool it. The next time you do anything, I want her to initiate. And I don't want you," he points at you, "to do what he wants. You figure out what you need and that's what you do, understand?"

You swallow, lightheaded. You know what he means but you don't want to think about it. What if what you want isn't Andy?

"The next time we check in, I think I should do another housecall…" Kemp says, "and after this, we'll have our usual one-on-one. For now, I want to do a few exercises between you two…"

You blink rapidly. There's so much to do. That was always the worst feeling, knowing you had an insurmountable list ahead of you. Steps, that's what the doctor always says, little steps.

🕊️

Andy leaves and your private session begins. You’re nervous, still scalded from the conversation about intimacy. You fidget as you tuck yourself into the corner of the couch, trying to shrink down as much as you can.

Dr. Kemp stands and walks casually to the window. He doesn’t say anything right away. You wilt in the silence, wondering if you should start. How do you do that though? What do you say?

Your head races with the messages on your tablet. It’s so much easier to talk to him through a screen. Face-to-face, you’re embarrassed at everything you’ve shared with him under the deceitful protection of distance.

He turns to face you, smiling as he leans on the window ledge. He crosses his arms and you see how his chest flexes under his shirt. You try not to focus on that, bringing your eyes back to your twiddling fingers.

“Let’s focus on you,” he puts one foot in front of the other, uncrossing his arms to fix his left cuff. “You’ve been… exploring.”

You chew your lip. Oh gosh. Why did you ever let him convince you to do that? And why had you done it every day since?

“Now, don’t be shy. You know I won’t judge you. I wouldn’t encourage it if it was bad,” he comes forward slowly and sits at the other end of the couch, “can I ask you something?”

You nod, staring at your lap. You lean into the armrest, slouching as heat nips at your cheeks. You feel terribly dizzy. Even if he’s not that close, he’s crowding you.

“Why are you so… let me restart that. What has made you so… reticent about your sexuality?” He asks.

You shake your head. You can’t speak. It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know what makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“You never… never tried anything before? Never been curious?” He prompts.

You swallow and hunch forward, speaking to the carpet, “a little.” You clasp your hands tight, forcing them still, “but… it hurt. So I stopped and… just forgot about it.”

“The other day. Did it still hurt you?”

You shake your head again.

“That’s good,” he praises and the couch jostles as he moves closer. He keeps some space between you as he reaches to touch your shoulder, “it’s not shameful. You’re just getting to know yourself. You’re taking care of yourself, sweetie. And That’s a good thing.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with a nod, his touch electrifying.

“So you can take what you learn about yourself and show Andy. Share it with him,” he suggests.

You’re quiet. You shrug off his hand and look away. You can’t tell him the truth. About why you enjoyed it so much. You don’t really understand it yourself. It’s probably doesn’t mean anything.

“Doctor,” you push your chin back down and sense him lean in, listening to you intently. “What… what if when I… did it, I wasn’t thinking of Andy?”

He takes a breath and lets his hand rest on the cushion between you. He leans an elbow on his thigh as his gaze sears into you. His fingers tap as he thinks.

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s not uncommon to have fantasies. They’re only that, they’re not real. So who are you hurting?” He drags his hand back and shrugs, “does that make sense?”

Your lips part and you make yourself sit up. You feel lighter. Yeah, you suppose it can��t hurt Andy if he doesn’t know who you think of. Or Steve.

“I guess,” you agree.

“Great,” he sits back, “so who did you think of?”

You look at him in shock. He chuckles at your expression and waves you off. You frown, heart pumping wildly.

“You don’t have to say,” he reaches over to lightly tap your knee, “I was just being nosy.”

“Oh,” you pick at your fingernail.

“Being funny,” he says, “let’s redirect. Anything new this week? New books? How’s the painting going?”

You peek at him, biting your cheek. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. That’s crazy, you’re the only person in this room. He has nothing else to distract him. You’re being silly. You love Andy, not Dr. Kemp.

🕊️

You yawn at the canvas as you focus on the details of the feathers. Your work is coming together. You might be done soon. You’re at that point where you just don’t want to stop because you can see the end.

Andy doesn’t feel the same. The last time he checked in on you, he clucked at your response. It’s Saturday night, he reminds you. Yes, well, doesn’t that mean you can stay up late?

You can hear him inside the house as he grabs another beer. He had one for dinner and after as you excused yourself to paint. Is that his third? Fourth? You don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t count.

Your eyes are itchy and you long to close them and let the tension out of your shoulder. That’s another thing that keeps you at the easel. As much as you long for bed, you’re nervous about sleeping in Andy’s bed. After the day’s therapy session, you feel like you have to do something. Something you’re not ready for.

You rinse your brush and step back. You go to your tablet to check your reference image, accidentally swiping over to a different draft. It’s a sketch you did the other day, only half-finished. It’s Amber, or supposed to be.

Your heart sinks. You remember slamming the cover on the tablet after realising you couldn’t remember exactly how she looked. You remember her smell, her voice, her warmth, but you just couldn’t get the slant of her nose right, you couldn’t make her eyes sparkle just so.

You quickly push the image away, looking for the falcon crest, but your motivation quickly dies. You don’t want to paint anymore. Neither do you want to go inside. Even if it is awfully chilly out here.

The TV blares from inside the house. You can hear it even through several walls. You wonder if you’re making too much noise or if it’s something else.

You tap on the screen listlessly, realising too late that you’re staring at the chat with Dr. Kemp. It’s too late to message him. You’ll wait until tomorrow. Yeah, you can’t bother him this late.

By some eerie coincidence, a new message pops up before you can close the chat. You wipe your hand on your stained tee shirt as you read it. ‘Have a good night, sweetie. You did very well today’.

You go over the letters over and over again. You smile to yourself but quickly wipe it away. He’s only being nice.

‘Thank you. Have a good night.’

You send the message and leave the tablet on the small table. You start cleaning up, taking your time as you dread the other side of the wall. Andy won’t be happy you waited so long, but he might be too tired to be angry with you.

You grab your tablet and pause, reading the unexpected new message; ‘you going to bed?’

You bite your thumb. What should you say? Well, you should be honest, right?

‘Soon. Hope I can sleep.’ You tap the arrow and sway, looking up at the garage door. You really should just say good night and go inside.

‘What’s keeping you awake?’

Oh, gosh. End it. Stop talking. There was enough of that earlier. You’re typing before you can stop yourself.

‘Amber.’

That’s it. The only word you can manage. Off goes the bubble and almost immediately those three dots appear on his side of the chat. Then they disappear.

The chirp from your tablet surprises you. You nearly drop it but smack the screen instead, inadvertently answering the call. Oh no! He must’ve hit the wrong button.

You see Dr. Kemp on the screen and in the corner, your own face looks back. You sputter as you notice his bare shoulders, distracted from hating your reflection. You gasp.

“Oops,” you utter with a nervous chuckle.

“You’re thinking of Amber?” He asks without a beat.

“Um, yeah, but– Dr. Kemp, it’s late. We can talk next week. I’m sorry.”

“I called for a reason. I’m not Dr. Kemp right now, I’m Steve. Your friend,” he stares at you, smiling as you notice the odd angle.

He must be sitting down, maybe he was getting ready for bed, that would explain his lack of shirt. You can’t even see that much, just the top of his chest. Don’t think about it. Maybe he doesn’t even realise.

“My friend?”

“Of course,” he coaxes, “so tell me, what are you thinking about Amber?”

You shrug and look away with a pout. You don’t know if you should say. You should’ve mentioned it earlier. You’re wasting his time.

“Aw, you miss her, sweetie? That’s normal. She’s your sister.”

You turn back to the tablet. You can’t help the tremble in your chin. You miss her, yes, but more than that. There’s not a word that can express how deeply you feel in that moment. You love Amber so much but you’re ashamed of how you used her for so long. Then you abandoned her.

“Did you decide if you want to invite her to Thanksgiving? I think that’s a great idea,” he says.

“Oh, uh… Andy wouldn't… I don’t know,” you mumble and turn, glancing at the door, suddenly paranoid he might hear you. “I should… it’s very late. I should go to bed.”

He nods. His hair is slightly askew, it’s usually so neat and tidy. He has a bit of stubble poking through along his jaw. He looks more handsome than you’ve ever seen him. You can barely think.

“Alright, I won’t keep you. You need a good night’s sleep, right? Because you have to take care of yourself, right?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Steve,” he corrects.

You giggle, “yes, Steve.”

“Okay, go on,” he shifts the tablet, “chat tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you promise, “good night.”

“Night,” he winks.

The call ends and you stare at the screen. Your chest flutters as you make yourself close the cover. You feel bubbly like you could float. And something else. Something that needs to be quelled. A deep need that has your fingers tingle for that familiar buzz.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #librarian au #don't speak #defending jacob #steve kemp #fresh

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