#writing self eval

[allwaswell16]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

Thanks for tagging me @kingsofeverything !

1. List of works published this year:

Netflix Original

A Deal

Do You See What I See 

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet (series)

All This Time

On That Note

Ace of Hearts

Crush

Daydream

One

Heart Beat 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Probably Bitter Ends Turn Sweet. First of all, just knowing there was a song called Chicago on FITF had me shook. Then, the first time I heard it, it was just such a fanfic that the whole story was just right there in my head as soon as the song was over. And I was like...nah. I'm not gonna write a long kid fic, right? RIGHT?? I've written angst before, but writing about a child made me emotional in a way I've never felt while writing in part because I was writing a disabled child. And for that matter I wrote a trans character into this fic as well. But I wanted to write this in a way that made it clear how deeply loved and celebrated these characters were to their families and the people around them. Maybe I made their characters have it unrealistically easy, but it's what I wanted for them just as I want that for my disabled and trans family and friends in real life.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I wouldn't say I'm not proud of any of them, but the time stamps I wrote for Bitter Ends are just things that didn't fit into the main story. And I feel like there's a reason they didn't, if that makes sense. But I thought it might be fun for anyone who liked the fic to read those bits of it, which is why I published them at all.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

oof I can never find anything. Here's something from Bitter Ends:

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Gem said it was okay to make mistakes like dancing with the wrong guys.”

Louis nodded, considering. “How about dancing with the right guy?”

Harry’s heart pounded harder, and he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the dancing. “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about that.”

He’d now lost Liam amidst the dancers, but it was hard to concentrate on that with Louis this close. Louis’ hand splayed out across his back, keeping him close as the beat slowed. 

They’d both dressed in black. And although Harry’s shirt was filmy with a bit of lace and Louis’ a t-shirt sheer enough to see his tattoos through, they were near enough to one another that Harry couldn’t tell where one fabric ended and another began.

Perhaps he could blame muscle memory on why he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Louis’ shoulders, close enough now to feel Louis’ breath at his neck, cooling his heated skin just there as desire zipped down his spine. 

The bit of scruff still on Louis’ cheeks slid against the bare skin of Harry’s shoulder peeking through where his shirt had slipped down, and Harry was thankful for the volume of the bar blocking out the sound of his moan. The whirl of lights danced across his vision, caught up in this moment with Louis.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

There's this one for Bitter Ends: What a gift!!! What a wonderful, sweet, tear inducing gift of fabulous writing! Every word, every sentence of story building was exquisite. I could do nothing else but read this from start to finish and will reread it again and again. Max was an inspired character, so real and so loved. Thank you for this.

And this one for Ace of Hearts: I had no idea I loved early 19th century pirate stories as much as I do now. I couldn’t leave a comment until I finished reading all the parts. I don’t remember when I started but I did forgot to eat for awhile. I haven’t read a story with so many twists and well written.

And basically every single one for Do You See What I See because they're all the same thing...people yelling at me when they find out the twist hahahaha

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

No one come for me, but I wouldn't say there's ever a time where it's really hard to do. BUT sometimes it's really hard for me to make time for it.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I spent YEARS trying to come up with a plot for a Louis/Cillian Murphy fic. Nothing felt right. And then it somehow occurred to me that what I really wanted to write was Louis/Tommy Shelby and once I figured that out the story immediately came to me.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I always like to try my hand at new things, so this year I wrote girl direction for the first time, some new rare pairs, I wrote an advent fic, both my longer fics are kid fics, which is wild to me lol.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

Whoops. Had to come back and add this in. I just hope to find more time to write and keep finding more challenges for myself.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

If you looked through my author's notes this year, you'd definitely notice how often I thanked @nouies I couldn't have done half of what I did this year without Lou. Her encouragement and making fic posts and reading things over for me helped me enormously. To have someone supporting and keeping me going was just everything. And always @louandhazaf for betaing my fics and always being excited to read whatever new thing I've come up with to write! Thank you x a million, Nic!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

lol yes. hmmm where to start...Bitter Ends has a lot of my son and the things my family likes to do in Chicago in it. Do You See What I See is based on a FB ad I saw that I found hysterically funny and also based on the animals that run around in the wooded ravine behind my house. Daydream takes place in a coffee shop that I like to go to. And Heart Beat takes place in a fictional version of my hometown, has a fictional version of my cat in it, and has a plot inspired by me spending a lot of time in a converted cathedral listening to my son play the drums.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

I think I say the same thing every year...READ!!! It's important of course to make time for the actual writing. And writing as much as possible if your goal is to become better at it, but analyzing other people's writing is how a lot of people grow as a writer. What is it about your favorite novels/fics that you love? Read or reread them with a critical eye at what exactly the writer is doing so you can try it out in your own writing.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I (think??? lol) I'm only signed up to write for @1dalphalouisfest but I'll probably sign up for @1domegaverseficfest too. And obviously I'll write for my own fest @louisrarepairfest I have this soulmates fic that I've been simmering in my brain for a while and I just recently started to figure a few things out for it. So it may or may not fit into one of those fests.

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@jacaranda-bloom @nouies @lululawrence and anyone else who wants to do this just say I tagged you!

*All answers should be about works published in 2023

Past years: 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020 , 2021 , 2022

[bookpdf]

it's literally raining and the water droplets are pattering so very nicely on the windows and you want me to what? write my self-evaluation? do something productive? for my real job? in this weather????

[erjmokay]

Can someone give me an extra giant pillow cave to crawl into for a couple months please? I’m so, utterly fatigued.

So I had some sort of … event, occur today. Likely either some kind of non-convulsive seizure or a TIA (‘mini stroke’) or some other neurological malfunction. As terrified as I know I should be, since I have never experienced anything like this before in my life… I just, don’t have the time to think about it.

I’m dog-sitting tonight and tomorrow, I’ve got a ton of work to finish, my yearly self-eval is due tomorrow, our storage unit price doubles next month so we have to clear it out because we can’t afford everything on my income alone, my partner has a bike race coming up and surgery two days after that. We just got over covid a couple weeks ago, my other chronic illnesses are flaring because of it, and I simply do not have time for a new goddamn symptom or phenomena or whateverthefuck. So it will either have to not happen again, or wait its fucking turn for me to give a shit.

And tbh I’m leaving out some of the bigger stuff going on in my life rn cause again, I don’t have the time or energy to type it out into this void.

[eclecticsophism]

lockin in, bois

[becertainlust]

Would you maybe do a katsuki x f.reader

Reader is a just like jade west from Victorious, still mean to katsuki just not nearly as bad to like izuku or anyone else. Hope this isn’t too specific! I never see many katsuki x mean girl type of fics ^_^

BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: You're known for being sharp-tongued, icy-eyed, and completely unimpressed with nearly everyone — Katsuki Bakugo included. But lately, you've been finding new ways to get under his skin…just for plot.

content: fluff

You lean back in your seat, tapping your pen against your lips like you're bored out of your mind. Bakugo’s walking past your desk — all scowl and smoke, as usual — when you strike.

“Wow,” you mutter just loud enough, “you made it through a whole lesson without yelling. What happened? Forget how to read again?”

Bakugo freezes mid-step, one eye twitching. Half the class goes quiet. Mina’s eyes go wide. Kirishima winces like he’s already bracing for the boom.

“The fuck you just say?” Bakugo growls, turning sharply to face you.

You slowly lower your pen and meet his gaze like it’s the dullest thing in the room.

“I’ve always got something to say. I just keep it simple for you so your little detonation-brain can keep up.”

There’s a flicker — barely a beat — before Bakugo lunges.

“You wanna run your mouth—?!”

"oh shit" Karishma muttered, and he is up in a flash, grabbing Bakugo’s arms, anchoring him in place like a pro. “Bro—bro, breathe! Not here!”

“Bakugo, stop,” Mina yells, planting herself between the two of you like a pink barricade. “Don’t blow up the desk! We just replaced that one from last week!” she whined, shaking her self up.

You’re still seated, unbothered, one eyebrow arched in quiet satisfaction and part disbelief in how he falls for it every time.

“Touchy. I forget how fragile you are sometimes my bad princess.”

“Prince-, The fuck—!!”

“No you're not" Kirishima grunts, holding him in a headlock now. “Dude, you can’t fight her in the classroom. Mr. Aizawa's gonna be pissed and its illegal or something!”

“Then take the fucking teacher's pet outside shitty hair!”

“I’d like to see you try,” you say coolly, finally rising from your chair. “All that bark, Bakugo, but the second someone talks back, you lose your damn mind. You sure you wanna be a hero? Or just a really loud toddler with a permit?”

“Oh my god,” Mina whispers

Bakugo is seething now. Jaw locked. Palms glowing. Kirishima is red in the face trying to keep him restrained. Aizawa hasn’t even looked up from his nap.

And you? You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and walk past him like he’s nothing but heat and noise.

“You can glare all you want, Katsuki Bakugo,” you whisper low enough for just him to hear. “But we both know you’d rather chase me than fight me.”

Then you’re gone.

And Bakugo’s about two seconds from detonation if Kirishima wasn’t literally dragging him toward the hallway.

“I swear to God,” he snarls, “one day I’m gonna wipe that smirk off her damn face—!”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Mina mutters, deadpan. “Just kiss her or kill her already. We’re tired.”

Later in the day the bell rung, signaling the end of lunch and the start of quirk eval period. You and the girls followed suite onto the dirt field. The crunch of dirt under your boots putting a small smile on your face.

The dirt field, alive with energy—early birds stretching, testing their quirks, and waiting for Aizawa to give instructions. You roll your shoulders, eyes flicking toward the equipment set up: weight racks, agility poles, a long track. Another day, another evaluation.

“Alright, listen up,” Aizawa’s voice cuts through the chatter, rough as ever. “We’re doing individual quirk assessment today. Focus on efficiency, control, and execution. You screw up and damage the equipment? You’re writing me a ten-page report on why you shouldn’t be expelled.”

Murmurs ripple through the class. Kaminari groans. You smirk.

Aizawa continues, “First up—”

“Let me go against her.”

The whole field goes still.

You don’t even have to turn to know who said it.

“Bakugo,” Aizawa sighs, rubbing his temples. “It’s not a sparring session.”

“I don’t care,” Bakugo snaps, rolling his shoulders. “She’s been running her damn mouth all day. Let’s see if she can back it up.”

The way everyone is suddenly paying very close attention is amusing. Mina looks between you and Bakugo like she’s watching the finale of her favorite soap opera. Kaminari’s muttering bets under his breath. Even Todoroki looks vaguely interested.

You finally look at Bakugo, tilting your head. “Aw, is this about earlier? You’re not still mad, are you?”

His eye twitches. “Shut up and fight me.”

Aizawa groans. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” But then he waves a hand. “Fine. Since you two wanna make a show of it—one-on-one quirk assessment. First to land a solid hit wins. Don’t make me regret this.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

a/n: If i messed up your request I will pray for the god of thunder to strike me.

[callmrmorrow]

let’s talk about… POOOOOWERPLEX

(spoilers for invincible s3ep6 below, discussion of guilt/grief and death, all invincible-standard topics)

this motherfucker is a point of contention for the whole invincible fandom. do we love him, do we hate him? is he righteous or is he a hypocrite? at what point does the victim become the perpetrator, and is said point when he charbroils his loving wife and child while trying to kill his mortal enemy? is it even all his fault, or is his wife an instigating jane clone from breaking bad who egged him on? and most importantly… how the fuck did the GDA not clock that their new lab worker had loved ones lost in the chicago disaster? give him a psych eval or two, cecil!

also, if he’s so powerplex, how come i can understand him?

okay, all jokes aside, i think powerplex, or scott duvall, if you’re a friend, is a fascinating character. at the beginning of the episode, his formal debut for the show, he’s hanging out with his sister and her niece, gretchen and jessica respectively (another breaking bad nod). we see that his powers are based on transforming impact into electricity, but only in really small bursts. this brings up a fun idea in the invincible world, of natural-born supers who aren’t strong enough to make it big. does the GDA have a file on these guys, or do they spawn in at unpredictable rates within the human gene pool?

it’s super clear that jesse — sorry, scott — loves his family, and it becomes even more clear when they fucking die right in front of him. his entire revenge arc is based on pure misinterpretation and a salt shake of idiocy, because he assumed that invincible holding the severed arm of his (adopted?) sister meant he had torn it from her shoulder socket. easy to misconstrue in the haze of destruction, but really, you can’t tell me that working at the GDA for 1-2 years wouldn’t make you privy to how the fight really went down. short of invincible’s secret identity, of course. fallacy in the writing, and it really would’ve been better if his wife, becky, worked at the GDA instead and got the supplies for him.

also, his wife was 100% egging him on. couldn’t tell you why, maybe she has a power (com)plex herself. she seemed to have her fair share of hate for invincible and the hero system in general. one of the themes of the episode is indeed power, and how it translates into whether or not you deserve to live. the viltrumites are founded on this ideology, mark’s ability to survive is based on his power, but… what if you’re just a normal guy like scott duvall?

“why do you get to live when so many others died? what makes YOU so special?”

this puts me in the mind of deadpool and wolverine’s honda odyssey scene — not the sex allegory — but the part where wolverine is chewing out deadpool and about halfway through his spittle-flush monologue, you can tell he’s talking more about himself than the man he’s castigating. part of scott’s issue is MAJOR survival’s guilt: he only survived because he went to get a coffee. the people he loved, who took care of him all his life, the kid who adored him and whom he really seemed to treat like his own daughter, died and he lived.

half of the issue isn’t even invincible. it’s powerplex himself. this guy probably wishes he died with them. chances are his rage was redirected towards invincible when its initial source was genuine grief and potentially self-hatred. he threw the entire rest of his life into killing invincible, to the point where he arguably faced a mental sunk cost fallacy. i’m sure he did learn that invincible was a victim, but at that point, he’d already poured so much into this that he couldn’t just give up there and then. also if omni-man, the real perpetrator, was gone, then this was the next best thing. his power emulates his own mentality — a very popular thing in this show. his power translates physical impacts — pain — into power, and his story is about how violently and wholly that pain explodes out. even after he burns his wife and child to a crisp, which is arguably the point where he should’ve been like “fuck, stop fighting, it’s so over and this time it’s my fault,” he drives that shock (pun here) outward towards mark again.

aside: why is mark getting packed the fuck up by powerplex? you could ascribe it to his own guilt and perhaps a desire to pay a physical reparation for what he did to scott’s family, and all the other’s families. or you could chalk it up to plot relevancy, where it literally has to happen in order for becky and little baby boy whose name i forgot to die.

and when mark is speaking to scott in prison, he totally fumbles the “let me comfort you, bro” ball. but it is not [title card]’s fault! powerplex’s complex stops him from taking blame for his own actions regarding his wife and son, so he’s only going to be more furious with mark. he pins blame on an external source, and i’m sure this was a learned habit, probably from his wife (i do hate blaming the woman but she did really show some markers of an instigator here. wish that wasn’t the case but it is). i like that the invincible show/comics address the sheer destruction that follows these powerful, high-octane fights, because the s1 finale really was just omni-man showing mark how insignificant we humans are.

“he can’t keep getting away with this!!”

tldr: no, you’re gonna go back and read that.

[sirhamburrger]

DIE WITH A SMILE (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (post-apocalypse au, for day three of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which the only thing you can do is join him in undeath. ━☆ wc (written portion): 831 || tags/cw: f!reader, reader is a researcher working on a cure for the virus, bachira is part of an elite military squad, major character deaths (both bachira and reader, among others)(this is a zombie apocalypse au after all) || event m.list ━☆ why did i write this... this is so sad *runs away crying*

meguru bachira is beautiful. a little tired - that much is evident from the dark circles under his golden eyes - but still: beautiful. his eyes practically light up when you step into the room, clad in full personal protective equipment. 

for a moment you get self conscious of how you look dressed like a walking banana, but that all disappears when he chuckles warmly, making you blush beneath your mask.

“you’re even more beautiful than i expected,” the squadron member breathes.

you cock your head to the side, highly skeptical as you take a seat in front of him. “you can only see my eyes, though,” you point out, voice muffled.

“yeah, well.” a short pause, then, “they say true beauty is all in the eyes.”

you don’t quite know how you should respond to that, so you don’t.

you end up talking to him than is honestly necessary for the psych eval. he’s a sweet man, and the things his squad-mates have said about him are proven true - optimistic, cheerful, perceptive. somehow, the man you’ve only ever been able to talk to over the phone from behind a reinforced glass panel has become one of the people you trust most in this world.

maybe it’s the way he listens to you intently about the stresses of work, lets you confide in him about hard days - especially really hard days when you find out another one of you has been lost to the virus - trusts you enough to spill his own secrets too.

maybe it’s the way he laughs, or calls you pretty when he’s not calling you “doc”. maybe it’s the way you relate to him, both being people with risky jobs. in a broken world like this, either of you could go at any minute. but he helps you accept it, and he helps you embrace it.

but maybe it’s the way he tries to reach a hand out to hold yours on the table during a particularly hard part of the conversation, but restrains himself, a dejected and heartbroken expression on his face.

how ironic that the only thing you want is the only thing you cannot have. not just yet, at least.

it’s been three days since squad z perished in tokyo’s biggest hot zone, and meguru is not doing well.

it started with erratic vitals - high blood pressure, arrhythmia, severe migraines, then escalated  violent outbursts. your superiors don’t allow you in the room with him any more, even though you’d bet your life he would never hurt you. it hurts to see him like this. delirious, in mourning, broken.

he is not the man he once was, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll live long enough to see that change.

he still talks with you, so at least that hasn’t changed. you are one of the last few scientists on earth even remotely close to synthesising a cure, since many have been wiped out already. it’s stressful, frankly, and you’ve had shameful, selfish thoughts about ending it all - joining the dead before you are forced to walk amongst them. but meguru tells you to keep your chin up, doc, you’re getting there.

and who are you to say no to him, if not for the fact that he’s not doing much better himself?

you open up to him once, more than you think you should. you tell him about how you’ve wanted to be a scientist for the longest time as a child, but before that, you wanted to be a singer. but your parents saw no future in it. so you never pursued it further.

in the quiet of the space between you, then, meguru bachira asks if you would sing for him.

and you do.

you don’t even notice when he starts to cry, but you know that you’re crying too.

you bring him flowers sometimes. he lets them die in a corner of the confinement cell. you can’t blame him for not even trying.

the horde has broken in.

all your colleagues, your superiors, your friends - they’re all gone. they’ve all been reduced to mindless monsters, hungry for human flesh. now, those monsters push against the door, trying to get to you.

you stare back through the glass, eyes landing on meguru, who convulses on the ground, clutching his head. his head jerks backwards, blood spilling from his mouth. just like all the others. you let out a sob, your heart aching for him.

you fumble for your phone.

the air smells like blood, and meguru looks like hell.

you pad towards him slowly, tears streaming down your face. you freeze when he notices you, hunger in his bloodshot eyes. you take a step towards him. hold his hand. embrace him. tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

he’s crying now as he mumbles something. it sounds like i’m sorry and thank you. maybe it’s both. you feel hot breath on your neck, and his sharp teeth sinking into your skin.

and all is well in the world.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[antariies]

how to build a chair........... director's cut ∠( ᐛ 」∠)__ this is about to be a very long very self-indulgent post where i just talk about my own writing. i also doodled on all the pages i think it makes the whole thing more fun to go thru. welcome to my ted talk

SIKE before i begin. credit where credit is due, this post was the start of it all. it changed my brain chemistry my jaw was dropped i was in awe i was obsessed and before i even finished it i knew that i would eventually have to make something similar for the commander or else i would be cursed to think about it for the rest of my life. and i Was cursed for like two years every day i would just be like........ is today the day i sit down and draft the commander chair fic of my dreams....... maybe tomorrow......

and then i got accepted as a writer for the gw2 zine ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ the chair idea was actually my backup option in case my first idea didn't pan out, and thank god it didn't, bc this one worked so much better. (still working on my initial idea, just turning it into a full fic! it was wayyy too long to be a zine submission.)

this is the chair i used. i downloaded the assembly instructions and tried out a bunch of different free pdf editors until i found one i liked, which ended up being sedja. if anyone's interested in doing something like this, i recommend printing out the pdf and writing directly on it! it was a lot easier for me to just figure out everything on paper first and then digitalize it after :P here's a picture of my physical copy

okay actually getting into it for real this time !!!!!

1. yeah i could've just erased the ikea logo and left a blank space but then i realized i could turn it into an in-universe joke. and then i ran with it.

2. i ripped this straight from the product description on the website. thanks ikea

3. i'm not sure if anyone went and looked it up, but it's a real item code!

hehe :3c

4. if your commander willingly goes to therapy i'm happy for them but TO ME? you'd have to drag the commander kicking and screaming. it's not that they don't know that something is wrong with them, they know, and they know YOU know. you're just never supposed to talk about it. they don't look at their own psych eval results bc that's none of their business.

5. i normally avoid specifying the commander's race when i write them bc i enjoy the challenge, but for the zine i was assigned to write about a norn commander! as a human main i was uhhhh very ill-equipped. but that just meant i had to study up on my norn lore (•̀ᴗ•́)و i spent hours on the wiki, then went around interviewing norn mains for their opinions, which was great fun :D it all helped me narrow the focus of my piece: joining the war on commander objectification on the side of commander objectification (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ and no one self-aggrandizes quite like the norn commander!

and to balance that i knew my narrator had to be patronizing as shitttt. they've clearly been following the commander since the beginning and seem to know a lot of intimate details about their life, despite not thinking very highly of them. wonder who that could be :3c

6. i can't stop making references. so the original part number is actually #122620 in the manual but i've changed it here (and on the previous page!) to #082812, as in 08/28/12, the date gw2 was released! no real reason for it, @dalennaugw suggested it for funsies and i liked it. if you're my pal and i show you a wip and you have a cool idea for it, chances are i Will put that shit in. hi dale if you're reading this

7. another thing about me. i loveeee repetition. here the word "over" is repeated four times to match the picture. honestly a lot of the creative process for this piece was just staring at the pages and figuring out how to tie the pictures to the commander in ways that weren't extremely corny or trite. idk why i enjoy writing like this when i could be frolicking in the beautiful prosaic meadows of a word doc instead but. it's like i see a tiny little restrictive box and i'm like OH BOY can't wait to think inside of that thing!!! i like when the format matters just as much as the content and in some cases informs the content. am i making any sense here. well all you need to know is that i'm a virgo and my favorite book is house of leaves

7. aw fuck just realized i wrote 7 twice. whatever i'm not changing it this is 7 part two now. the theme of my piece is glory, what it means to the norn commander, and how far they're willing to go for it.

8. does norn culture place emphasis on seeking individual glory Yes are norn also very community-oriented Also Yes. i think it's common to see norn kids napping together in a big pile, usually after they've worn themselves out playing games outside. it makes sense practically (apes together warm) and socially (pack bonding good) but that's just my hc. growing up i used to share a bed with my cousins all the time so it's normal to me.

a young, naive not-yet-commander, with no real combat experience, has no point of reference to compare a "blaze of glory" to. but the way everyone talks about it, it must be a good thing. a wonderful thing. a reward fit for a life well-fought and a legend hard-earned. so they imagine it must feel like falling asleep surrounded by the people they love, who love them in turn.

9. .........i was playing a lot of ace attorney when i wrote this page. i wish i was joking 👍🏼

10. ohhh shit the truth come OUT this whole chair thing was all a ploy just so i could write about the departing. again.

will i ever stop thinking about her. reply hazy, try again later.

11. out of all the pages, this one has the most emphasis on text placement, like comparing the enlarged picture of the screw to a sword, the numbers counting the screws, and "up up up" being arranged to mimic a wisp of smoke.

i also wanted to lean into the viking/norse mythology influences with my word choice.

12. more nods to norn culture. i didn't know they referred to the six human gods as "spirits of action" until i was doing the research for this piece :O

and the domain of the lost is called a hall of ghosts....... cause valhalla.....

13.

i'm sorry this so funnyyy. SAYS the guy who literally clawed their way back to life for a rematch.

me when i'm in a sore loser competition and my opponent is the COMMANDER!!!

14. arms as in "limbs" and also arms as in "armaments" :•]

15. haha get it because the picture makes it look like there are two mirrored speech bubbles while the text paints two opposing interpretations of the norn commander. one that's selfless and humble versus one that's selfish and vainglorious.

16. and the best part is IT DOESN'T MATTER which one is true bc at the end of the day no matter what their motivation, balthazar is dead by their hand. ofc i'm of the opinion that the most compelling interpretation of the commander is both, simultaneously. contradictions are good for the soul.

17. i could've name-dropped kas, the only person present that would do something like that, but i felt it was better to leave it ambiguous.

18. low-hanging fruit. the metaphor was so obvious here but i had to do it. for the culture

19. the alternate title for this piece was "THIS COULD BE GLORY". "how to build a chair" was only supposed to be a placeholder title til i figured out a better one, but the innocuousness of it grew on me. also i came up with the other one too late and had already advertised under the chair title lol

20. my first instinct was to end it with something more reassuring, like "what you have built so far is enough" but that would've been an ooc switch-up for a narrator who has been nothing but snide and detached this whole time. gotta stick to my guns

21.

obligatory chair joke as the last line. for realsies though it’s meant to be an earnest appeal to the commander to take a break, to have a seat, but it’s also a challenge. are they willing to lean on their friends? are the bonds they’ve forged strong enough to hold their weight? are they willing to put their faith in someone else’s hands? are they brave enough to try? well. only one way to find out.

also guess what that wasn’t even the real last page of the manual. it's THIS

but no way i was letting this be the image we ended on. IT LOOKS LIKE A DICK AND BALLS!!!

and on that note, THANK YOU if you made it this far!! a very special shout-out to @hawkepockets, my lovely boyfriend and beta reader, without whom this piece would not be nearly as polished. i would bring him pages to look over and he would say Scrap half of those lines you can do better than that. kill your darlings. i would complain and argue for a few minutes then we would revise. rinse and repeat until we had honed this thing to perfection. i can't stress enough the importance of having a second pair of eyes on your work throughout your creative process, even better if it's someone who challenges you. i don't even pay him 🫶🏼

and if there was anything i didn't cover that you still have questions about, please feel free to shoot me an ask! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ thanks for reading! see u later dudes ;P

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hey…

I keep … Seeing you. Coming here, hearing all of this every time I try to sleep. Sorry about that, by the way… Anya said I could try journaling, writing what I want to say to this dream-version of you, what I feel this might mean to me. And I did, but… I feel… Weird, not… Not saying anything at all. Even if it’s not real. Even if I don’t know how to help… So uh, here goes nothin…

I’m here, and I’m… Sorry for not making myself known sooner, feels underhanded or something but it wasn’t meant to be that way. I didn’t want to make things worse, to make you curl in on yourself more. Make you feel unsafe in the last place you’ve got, I know firsthand what that’s like… I don’t want to say I don’t want to be here because, I mean, you’re… You mean a lot to me, Curly. Always have. And I feel like I-I should fucking do something. Anything! Instead of just…— just standing here holding my breath and trying to disappear until my alarm goes off. I—…

Sorry… Sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to raise my voice —…. Didn’t mean to hurt you… Or scare you— … or both.

…

But I feel it in my gut, like how you just… Know shit in dreams? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t say anything, but you — You deserve… More than that. Deserve to hear fucking something other than...Empty promises or silence or abuse from someone you did so much for. Especially given that uh, other me or whatever? Sounds… Yyyeah…

Not listening or trying to seemed like the thing to do, at first. To not… Eavesdrop, I guess? But trying to zone out when you talked about what happened — what’s happening to you, to everyone — felt like… Ignoring it. Ignoring you. And you don’t deserve that. Fuck, you don’t deserve any of this, no one does. None of them do. I’m sorry…

For whatever it’s worth: You… You made me want to try, to do better. You still do. Hell, it’s why I’m here at all. Why I’m still … Anyways, — Having this weird reoccurring feverdream about hurting my friends fucked me up enough to need nightmare therapy, christ! Imagine tryin to explain that note on the Psyche Evals, hah…

Point is, I thought, if someone like you could see something worth a shit in someone like me, maybe… Maybe I could find that person deserving of it in me too and be him. A-and I think I did?... I’m sorry yours — the other me? Dream-me??? — Didn’t feel the same. Christ, this is all so weird…

I’m sorry for not having said something to you sooner, I’m sorry for talking. This whole thing feels like a fever dream… But, I owe so much to you, Curls. I’d be… Fuckin bleeding out in some truckstop bathroom or some other equally miserable end without you. I hate… Seeing you like this. Feeling so helpless. Feeling so responsible somehow and not knowing how to fix it. Even when I’m awake, I’m thinking about it. It’s always there in the back of my mind. Like a warning sign, a threat, a reminder. That I might be… Capable of doing something like this if I don’t keep trying. I want to say I wouldn’t. That I have the autonomy to say I haven’t and won’t. But it feels… Wrong to argue that I wouldn’t when the evidence haunts me every fuckin night. The man I am right now couldn’t fathom… Doing something like this, to you, to people who trust and depend on me to get them home safe. To your friends, my friends, people I care about, people who’ve given me more chances than I deserved to get it right and were patient and—…

I don’t know what this means about me, about us, if anything. Anya says it might be like… Self sabotaging? Like I don’t trust how good things are now or something like that?… I dunno.

But whatever it is, I’m not going to let this be my reality. I have a say in my own life, in the real world, and I promise I won’t let this happen. No matter how scary it is to face the ugliest parts of me and overcome them. We’re defined by our past but not slaves to it, right? I’m gonna make sure I make that true for me too… I won’t let my own shit — my old shit — get in the way of the people I care about here and now. I’ll keep working harder, on me, on my outlook, on how I’m affecting people. I… I don’t know if that’s what I’m supposed to get from all this but I won’t forget it. I won’t forget you. Not like I could if I tried…

I don’t know if any of it makes a difference to you, probably not. I’d hate me too if I were you, but I still feel like I have to… I don’t know, prove something to you. Show you that I’ll take care of you, of all of us, so that this nightmare never comes anywhere close to a reality. If he won’t take responsibility then I will.

Sorry, I dragged this out… But nothing else is working and I’m … I’m so tired. So, thought I’d give talking a try. You feel so real, and I can’t… I can’t stomach the thought of… Of hurting you like this, of hearing you in so much pain. Of hurting them. Of making you feel like… Like less than human.

Now I get what Swansea meant about being scared straight, maybe this is my version of that?…

I don’t want to scare you. Don’t wanna make things worse… I won’t talk again. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll … I dunno, try to imagine you into a better dream next time. A kinder one.

I’m just— I’m sorry. I — I’m so fucking sorry…

Oh no

Dream-version…?

…it’s fine it already feels unsafe but it’s better than the alternative and if that means I have to hear you over and over at least it’s in my head this time and can’t touch me. You’re yelling are you angry why are you angry—

You’re… sorry… It’s— it’s fine. It’s fine.

Oh. You’re, uh, one of those other Jimmys. It’s— it’s all right. You can say whatever you need to, it’s okay, Jim. I don’t mind.

So you’re, uh… hallucinating me…? You can… ignore me if you want. Sorry if it’s been loud or distracting. Didn’t know you could hear me.

…Oh. Hah. You— uh, he— never really spelled that out. It’s— I’m glad some version of me was able to help you. Sorry about the nightmares.

You were always something “worth a shit.” I didn’t think there was a— a worthy man trapped inside you, Jimmy. I just wanted you to get better. I wanted you, better. Not some second secret you. …Either way, I’m happy for you that you, uh, got there. Always believed you could. …I’m sorry he wouldn’t do it too. I really wanted him to get better. I thought he was.

You don’t have to apologize. I’m just a dream to you, yeah? And it’s not your fault. If you’re— You shouldn’t be punished for all our mistakes. Not after all I know you must have put in to get where you are. Thank you though. I really am glad you’re doing better, somewhere. Just… just keep trying, like you said, yeah? This wasn’t inevitable. It was en endless parade of terrible decisions. And if we don’t make them, it won’t happen. Easy as that. It— it sounds like you care a lot. About your friends. I’m glad you have that, Jimmy. It’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay for you.

Mm. Makes sense. You worked hard to get here, though, yeah? By all accounts, I’m probably just… uh… a dream manifestation of your… anxiety. Something like that. So don’t go sabotaging yourself on my account. You deserve to enjoy your life. Always have.

Yeah. Exactly. You can do it. I believe in you. One— one day at a time. The past doesn’t control what you do now. You do.

It makes a difference, Jimmy. It really does. If you’re really you— this proves that— that this didn’t have to happen. That I could have saved you from— all this. That you could have saved yourself. …Hey, Jim. I’m proud of you. Okay?

It’s okay. Was kinda nice in a way. Just to— talk, again. I miss you. Can’t stand how much I miss you— him— whoever. Sorry you’re tired. I know how that is. Just staring at the ceiling all night. …Don’t worry. I’m— I’m your subconscious, I guess. You’re good. You’re good. Thank you for talking to me like a person again.

Didn’t scare me. Or, well— it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to. Hate that I have this reaction to your voice. Can’t help it. But that’s never been your fault, okay? Didn’t exactly make things worse, either,

Y-you don’t have to— I— thank you. God, Jimmy, I miss you so fucking much.

[blakerights]

The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.

Good luck with your writing 🥰

temily (tara lewis x emily prentiss)

a short one, but a little temily scene. no warnings (thank you for the request!)

sentence fic prompt

“The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.” Tara groaned and rubbed her temples. “If you insist on watching that terrible show, can you please do it in another room? I really need to get these evals completed and emailed before I sleep tonight.” 

Emily chuckled, and switched off The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. “You know it’s a good thing I have strong self confidence or that sort of comment might hurt a girl.” 

Tara sighed and dropped her head into her hands, “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed about getting this work done and I’d much rather be sitting with you on that couch and it’s got me in an awful mood.” 

Emily pushed herself up from the couch and made her way over to her girlfriend’s desk, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, lucky for you I’ve always got work to be doing. I’ll come and join you and then you don’t need to feel like you’re missing out.” She tilted her head, “And maybe afterwards we can agree on something to watch together.” 

Tara looked up at her girlfriend, “You’d do that?” 

“For you? Of course, babe.” She leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss before pulling away with a smirk. “Still driving you insane?” 

Tara's eyes lingered on her pretty lips and hummed, “You? Yes, always.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @quinnharkness @storiesofsvu @alexbllake

[ozimagines]

You know I need that Robson alphabet, NSFW if you could

Something I’ve never been shy about on this account is the troubles I’ve had mentally. I’ve got a full psych eval coming up that should take hours, doctors clamoring to say definitively what is wrong with me. The diagnosis so far is bipolar schizoaffective with possible borderline. It’s not something I’m proud of, and while I’d like to say I’m not ashamed of, there’s this awful part of me that is. I have a history of mental health problems and substance abuse in the family, a couple members successfully dying by suicide. Largely, I hate myself and what I’ve become. I wasn’t assaulted as a child but I was put in inappropriate situations for a kid, sexualizing my behaviors to adults. I put myself in very risky and dangerous situations as a result of this, twice leading to someone sexually assaulting me as an adult. And resulting from that, my relationship with sex, though never healthy, changed into a sick codependency; coercing sexually when I wanted emotional affection or stability. Taking things father and father with each passing act. All this to say, the worst part of me is the part that identifies with James Robson. That self destructive, gut wrenching, sadistic, hateful part of myself. To be clear, I’m not and never have been violent either anyone other than myself, and I abhor rapists and nazis. That said, there are too many compulsions in Robson with which I can relate. That part of him that wants to burn the world as badly as he was. That anger towards his abusers manifesting into anger towards everyone. That pathetic longing to have his monster be affectionate to him. It’s nauseating being this deconstructed as a person. I’m not proud of any of this. In fact I’m deeply ashamed. I think I’m writing this here because the posts with Robson get the least traction on my page, and so I feel like my confessions here will be less exposed to the light of day unlike some others. I don’t want to do this prompt, but I feel I need to, like a character study of the worst parts of myself. I would like to make clear that I find Robson despicable, deplorable, and definitively evil. I would also like to make clear that with his upbringing, though he turned into the worst of it, there was never a chance for the best of it. He never had a chance. Not being a five year old boy getting fucked in the shed. So I’m going to write this piece, but I’m going to only write his post-Cutler tendencies, though it will reference his pre-Cutler preferences as well. But even pre-Cutler was post-Gerald. To go back before he was damaged would be to go back before he was born. I made a change to the Vern Schillinger prompt when requested because I didn’t feel okay sexualizing or romanticizing evil, but in this case I will say two things; 1) this is a character study, not a fetishization of the undeniably terrible, and 2) most of these inclinations, though twisted and fucked as they are, will be largely based on my own experiences after abuse. It isn’t cute. It isn’t romantic. It barely even counts as writing, more so as a stream of consciousness. But it might be important. Sometimes, if we can’t write something beautiful, we write something meaningful. I hope that’s what this is. As @postmoderntongues says; this confession has meant nothing.

As with anything Robson, this is a dark alphabet. Viewer discretion is heavily advised.

NSFW Alphabet Post-Cutler James Robson

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

His aftercare was pretty lacking before. If he was in a good mood he’d offer his partner a cigarette. If he was in a bad mood he’d have one himself and put it out on his partner after. After Cutler, he finds himself resting his body a little longer on his partner, letting their warmth soothe him even if he won’t verbalize why.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ass on his partner, hands on himself. Gets very sensitive anytime anyone touches his ass, even if it’s consensual. He’s unable to differentiate between consensual activities and what was done to him by his father or Cutler. He sees the ass as a platform of domination. I think if he wasn’t as broken as he was then he’d appreciate that spot right behind the ear, semi on the neck of his partner, kissing there often.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He can’t swallow cum. Just can’t. Brings up too many bad memories of getting beat. Loves giving head though. That’s something he’s pretty ashamed of, even if the head is fantastic.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Inclined to say what happened with his father, but I think the dirtiest secret he has is that every now and again he has nightmarish wet dreams about what happened to him. That he wakes up aroused at his own trauma. Hurts worse than anything. (This isn’t random, I do this.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Probably started having sex in middle school, extremely young. Sex for him wasn’t even a dirty act; it’s just what you do to someone smaller than you. He’d find girls and boys alike that he was bigger than and either seduce or force himself. First time he ever made love was with his wife, and the experience was so foreign and confusing to him that he went out to his car afterwards and cried.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Speed bump, flatiron, wheelbarrow but with his partner hogtied. Likes to restrain his partners and choose positions where he’s entirely in control, in a sort of drilling motion.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Can be both. I write him as having a mood disorder with his personality disorder, often switching between laughter and anger and sorrow in the same conversation. He can be so mockingly sincere in the moment it makes the both of you sick.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Cutler made him shave to be more like a woman, but he didn’t have much hair down there anyway. He barely grooms. It’s just not as important to him as domination regardless of hygiene.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

So false it makes you want to vomit. Even after Cutler there’s this horrible, sadistic tendency within him to identify any act of romance as an act of weakness and any physical gesture as a sign of dominance. He tries to be a person after Cutler, but he’s too far gone.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Chokes himself while he masturbates. Unfortunately, both his abusers do this to him, and he’s always aroused by it without wanting to be.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Fuck me this is gonna be gruesome; blood play, piss play, knife play, rough sex, rigging (bondage), heat play, biting/scratching, crying, vomiting. You get the picture. Anything done with an amount of malice. It’s all he knows sex to be.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s ASPD so I don’t think he’d have a moral quandary doing it anywhere. Anywhere the mood strikes him is where he does it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Nothing sweet. Nothing kind. Even after Cutler when he tries to win back some of his humanity, he can’t help what gets him going. It’s everything that got his abusers going. Crying and getting sick and trembling and pain.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Again, ASPD so there’s really nothing off limits. Nothing. It’s the worst part about him but he has no hard limits. Every time he gets to a line he barrels over it and into the darkness that follows.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s based at oral. It came about in the worst way; by force. He was abused to the point of demolition, and so learned the skills to make his captors not beat him to death. He gets off to oral, mostly giving, as he is ashamed to death of what he’s become but unable to get away from it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

After Cutler, before Cutler, doesn’t matter. He’s always done it rough. Again, that’s what he was right from a very early age that sex was. Sex was about asserting your dominion over a weaker entity, nothing more, nothing less.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’ll take a quickly any day. Even if he has a doctor’s appointment in fifteen minutes, you’re in the closet right before. His mind genuinely thinks about sex at all times. Every single part of his life has been dominated by the desire to have and conquer.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s drawn to risky sex by compulsion, not by desire. Anything he does is because he gets the instant itching to do it, and doesn’t even have the sense of a dog not to.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Doesn’t last very long but can go round after round in succession. His brain is always, always at least a little focused on sex. It’s like he has this voice in his head always urging him towards it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Post-Cutler, his toys that he does own makes him sick. He looks at all the dildos and ropes and floggers and knives and candles as a shrine to his animalism. It makes him sick the things he did before, even though he can recognize that he was reenacting what had been done to him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Painfully so. If there’s no pain or panic, he doesn’t even acknowledge it as sex. He used to play with his food, but at the ripe age of 36, he realized how sick and twisted he’d become, being in the middle of failure before he realized he’d started.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Used to be very loud. Now he holds it in. When he was being raped by Gerald and Wolfgang, sex was a thing they did in the privacy of a shed or closet, and so he had to keep quiet for risk of being caught, and if they were caught the spoke or unspoken agreement would be that he’d be beaten within an inch of his life.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Often throws up after sex. Even when he’s on top and in control. Will excuse himself to the restroom or just blow chunks right where he is. It’s a knee jerk reaction at this point, the shame and anger and horror at who he was becoming too much.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

After Cutler, he’s emaciated, always restricted from food because his thinness made him more like a woman. He’s bonier then. He’s got two massive black and blue marks on his sides, and his crotch is mincemeat towards the dick. No matter what, his body will always have some sort of evidence of who he’d become.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yearns for it like fish yearn for water. It’s desire as plainly animal as anything. He needs it, because he can’t prove he’s the biggest and baddest without it. He can’t prove his mark as a man. That’s what sex for him is; a masculine performance.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After Cutler he stays up very late, sobbing himself to sleep, wondering if any amount of change on his part or the world’s could have saved him from the man he’d become. He’s disgusted with himself, truly and deeply, and if he had the stones he thought he did, he’d have ended it long before he decided to hurt others. As it stands now, he doesn’t, and so his life will continue to stain the world.

(Have had this in my drafts forever wondering if I should post it. It hurt to write as anything that cuts this deep would. I want to take this time to say that regardless of trauma, it is never okay to hurt anyone else as a result. Never okay to force anything. Never okay to beat anyone. I might delete this later. Nothing about this feels right, even the catharsis.)

[presleyintheworld]

This is the first chapter of my fic Man of Mystery (title subject to change) about Raylan trying to solve the mystery of Tim's personal life. The rest of the chapters will be published on AO3 (CalamityKid) as I write them. It hasn't been beta read, but I tried my best. I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings: references to child abuse, alcoholism, and PTSD.

☆☆☆

Tim didn’t take days off. Voluntarily, at least. If Raylan had set that bar on the ground, Tim crawled under it.

The last time, after he’d taken a bullet to the shoulder at the hands of one of Audrey’s ladies of the night, he’d lasted a three whole days inside the desolate white walls of Lexington County Hospital before convincing Raylan to break him out. He was back at his desk by the end of the week.

Art was well-aware of Raylan’s demons, the recurrent daddy issues and the self-righteous vigilante act that stemmed from them, but he’d yet to pin down Tim’s particular brand of fucked up. Why he showed up early and stayed too late. Why a mere few days out of the office seemed to make him twitch with a nondescript restless energy. Why he never smelled like booze when they both knew he’d spent the previous night losing a battle to Jack Daniel’s. It would have been easy to blame his time in the service and the vague allusions he’d make every so often to the things he’d seen there. But Tim wasn’t easy. Not in that way, at least. No, Art got the impression that war hadn’t been Tim’s problem—his initial one, anyway; it had been his solution.

There was an ambiguous nature to Tim that inspired speculation, a fill-in-the-blank of a redacted government document. He was something of a conspiracy theory in and of himself around the office, the reticent hotshot sniper with perpetually tired eyes and a stack of fantasy novels on his desk by his gun. Any real knowledge or perspective on the man was a hard-won victory, and even that seemed superficial at best, like the way a person can talk without saying anything at all. Art had read his file, of course: his body count and service record, the psych evals he’d managed to pass, but it was like solving a puzzle with missing pieces. Reading a book with a prologue scribbled over in pen. He let it slide because Tim was still Tim—steadfast, reliable, professional where it counted. He let it slide and hoped neither of them paid for it.

He'd been insisting for weeks that Tim take some time away from work. Only a day or two, if that was easier to stomach than the full extent of the vacation days he’d hoarded over the span of his career. The odds had been stacked against him even broaching the subject and he’d never been much of a gambling man, but he’d been pleasantly surprised when Tim accepted the offer with minimal pushback. It was ironic then that he was the one to summon Tim to the VFW on his first day off.

The first thing Raylan asked when Tim strolled onto the scene was a critical, “Are you drunk?” A question which, as a rule of thumb, Art thought, was not particularly something you wanted to hear asked of a US Marshal with a sharpshooter’s aim and questionable PTSD diagnosis. Or lack thereof.

Tim drunk wasn’t really that much different from Tim sober, save for maybe an indistinct haziness that seemed to settle over him, like a painter blending out the harsh edges of a brushstroke. Everything about him seemed more relaxed in a way that felt…genuine, noticeably different from the calculated sense of indifference with which he carried himself day-to-day. He was less put-together than Raylan had ever seen him at work, less guarded in a way that was so unfamiliar he was nearly unrecognizable. His usual collared shirt had been exchanged for an oversized flannel, the fabric worn in places from years of use. The edge of an intricate tattoo on his chest that could just be made out above the neckline, a set of dog tags visible around his neck despite his tendency to deflect conversation regarding his service. All pieces of the puzzle.

His hair bordered on just this side of disheveled, as if he’d only pulled himself out of bed at Art’s call. Raylan couldn’t decide if he looked his age or thirty years older. It prompted the question of what Tim would even be like in a decade or two; whether he’d be inside this very building, clinging to war stories and whiskey like so many of the aging veterans that sat around recalling their glory days. It was hard to picture.

“Was tryin’ to be,” Tim hummed absently. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye like a small child just woken from a midday nap.

Raylan cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Why?” His tone held more curiosity than concern. Mysteries were like an itch beneath his skin and Tim was the walking embodiment of one, the bastard.

Tim leveled him with an unimpressed stare, swaying slightly on his feet. If he hadn’t finished that last drink, maybe he’d have had the mind to confront Raylan on his hypocrisy. Instead, he just sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, fingers lingering to massage a migraine from his temples. “My boyfriend’s away and I’m codependent,” he finally said, letting his hand fall away. He didn’t give the remark any time to land before he was shouldering past them and flashing his ID to the guard.

Art just shrugged tiredly when Raylan glanced at him. He exuded the same energy as a weary parent who had long since given up understanding his children.

Raylan added this comment to the list of times he couldn’t differentiate between Tim’s laconic sarcasm and his passive honesty. The man had a way of speaking that made everything sound sarcastic and true all at once. He’d consider it impressive if it weren’t so damn annoying.

[needlesandnilbogs]

Notes on City Spies: Mission Manhattan

(copied from discord by way of blogspot)

P4: Kat is in fact 14 now.

P6 Sydney or Paris is 16. Also ily kat.

P8 awwwww Rio making a friend p11 lol mood

P12 oooh oh dear

P23 PERSON IN GLOBE?????

P33 ooh new motherism we love. Also I bet the bomb is in the tiara.

P37 and this dude would be in on it.

P53 another very Murderbot line.

P62 CAIRO NOOOOOO

P67 awwww, Rio has such a big heart I love him

P69 any time they play tourists things go wrong. Just saying.

P70 lol he named this lady after his editor

P76 lol James PONTI and the PONTE, hmmmm? Also I love kat so much

P78 clemmie?

P86 wait clemmie and mother never officially divorced? DUDE

P103 I LOVE BROOKLYN SO MUCH

P104-5 I LOVE KAT TOO MAYBE MORE THAN BROOKLYN

P106 TRU AND C ARE FRIENDS??????

P108 very diplomatic, Ponti.

P110 oh boy. Gertie, huh???

P114 tru is grandma now. Also fic this story

P130 lol that's such a sibling moment I'm love

P133 yes Monty, this is about the haggis (alas this means Monty doesn't keep kosher or else they get kosher haggis) (wait, is kat vegetarian? Look for textual support for this)

P136 oh dear... this is not going to lead to PROBLEMS, is it?

P139 awwwwwwwww

P145 awww more support for my brooklyn&beny family fics

P168 oh NICE ONE PARIS SO PROUD

P175 oh no the clemmie sads but also MONTY CALLED MOTHER CAIRO'S DAD TO ALL THEIR FACES IT'S PROGRESS

P186 note to self Brooklyn, beny, kat pov of that missing scene

P192 FINALLY RIO RECRUITMENT

P207 RIO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

P224 oh boy

P233 YESSSS KAT

P244 Rio I love you so much

P246 yet again the nautilus shows up

P271 OH NO I HOPE EVERYONES OKAY

P316 oh nooooo

P318 it has been 13 months since start of book 1

P323 awww at least he's being honest about it?

P326 nooooo!!!

P330 patience and fortitude.... yesssssssss paciencia y fortaleza

P344 I love when the adults have fun with things and also when Monty's just like yeah there's the confident kids I'm raising, tell me what's going on, and SHES PROUD OF PARIS AAAAAA

P353 I love you Sydney

P372 OH THERES THAT LINE I LOVE U RIO

P379 YESS YES YES STACKS FTW THEY SAVED THE DAY WITH LIBRARY POWER

P381 YESSSS REAL NAME THIS GIRL

P384 "kat, you're incredible" "I get that a lot" LOVE LOVE LOVE ON ALL PARTS AND IM SO PROUD OF MY GIRLIE

p389 lolllll Mrs. G best new character now

P394 I LOVE YOU BEATRIZ

P399 lol C ily

P406 ohhhh clemmie. Oh boy. Well, that's a sequel hook. (not evil au when)

Team eval notes: awwwww Cairo's getting to know them!!! I need to write this scarab in universe fic tho. Also!!! Kat being kind with primes!!!!!!!

DONE I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE. Total time 2hrs 5 min.

I also wish to make clear that I have about half of that missing scene written and it is eventually going to make it to ao3

[electricbluebutterflies]

I've noticed that the story I always tell about the boy, when I'm trying to explain that development in my life to someone else, is that he was the first person in about five years that I'd told about the fact that I quit writing and why I did that and his immediate reaction was "you should start again".

I do too much self-eval. I know how I've tied myself in horrific knots trying to justify past love interests. Not this one, somehow. This one is kind. This one, despite scarring, has a kind of faith that I admire.

[sunflower1experiment]

Slight Crasona x Jimmy moment

TW// Suicide mention and death also mental illness. (And yes saying someone walking around unstable is a form of ableism that Crasona (and her family) needed to learn to not say)

(The ableism part is sorta what I went through because my dad said those words and Crasona saying that it reminds them of their own dad and they realize how badly they’ve been acting like him and their mother when it came to Anya’s mental state. This is how flawed they are. And its my way of showing Crasona at their worst in writing because this is their worst and this form of behavior is not okay. Its my way of spreading awareness, don’t ever repeat that either)

“I don’t get it, you hate me yet you’re willing to help me?”

A deep voice chuckles as Jimmy complains, “I never said I hated you, you initiated that idea when I denied your autograph. Frankly, I don’t see why you decided to hand me that magazine….you don’t know the backstory behind it.”

Jimmy shrugs, “Why should I care?”

“Exactly. You don’t….” He stays silent after Crasona makes that remark, they look at the sunset and Jimmy speaks. “It looks nice I guess….”

“Sure, and I’m in a rom com…” Crasona sits up, and he begrudgingly apologizes. “….Sorry.”

“…..Sure Jimmy, so why are you here?” Jimmy stays silent, “Curly offered me a job her ya know? So I took it. I was struggling and shit gets hard…you wouldn’t understand. You used to be a model, and now ya work in this dump-“

“Jimmy, I never wanted to be a damn model, my parents made me and I simply went with it since I was sixteen…do you realize how dangerous that is?” Crasona groans, “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, thats what psych evals are for! And you, take them seriously! Otherwise you’ll be wandering around here mentally unstable!”

They didn’t realize how harsh they sounded until Jimmy looked bristled and hurt, the woman pauses…

Relaxes their shoulders then hold his hand slightly, “I’m sorry.”

He leans into them without thinking, so they sit there. And let Jimmy relax on their lap, “…..It’s hard, I’m trying to do better. I fucked up…”

“……You shouldn’t be telling me this..”

Jimmy’s vision grows hazy, now lying on Crasona’s cold lap. He hugs the hyperthermia remaining crewmate, “I know…I know…”

He weakly sobs, the sound of a gunshot goes off.

Curly’s shaky eye remains on Crasona’s cold form and Jimmy’s now dead body.

—

Do Crasona and Jimmy like each other?

Naur, do they find a way to bond post crash? Sorta….(in Jimmy’s delusions)

Pre crash they never bonded and Crasona avoids him. Post crash he is afraid of them because their smile is uncanny.

They spend time with Anya mostly because Anya reminds Crasona of a nurse they used to adore. The nurse passed away due to a sickness, Crasona grew depressed and wore a veil for about six years. (This was before Crasona stopped modeling), they also spend time with Daisuke because he reminds them of their little brother. (Whom is older now)

Curly? Well…they do but they get angry at him because he keeps letting Jimmy’s goofy self tag along and it makes Crasona’s smile tweak out.

Swansea, man…Swansea and them talk smack and then talk about his kiddos or Crasona gives him advice about Daisuke.

[takami-takami]

I have. Been working on the same document.

FOR ALMOST 7 FUCKING HOURS TODAY!!!

It's not even the resource document from before, it's my self eval.

My school: Hiiiiii write a little something reflecting on your experience in each competency level ^-^. Make sure you're detailed! Detailed for each one! As much info as possible.

Me: oh, lovely!! I'll write a paragraph or two for each. How many competency levels are there?

My school: 34. :)