#yes this is a bit of my writings that never got published yet.

[darth-bagel]

so about Captain. just because I am sure I did not talk about the bastard but--have some brief Sylvas past recounting bit, take in mind they were 17 (yes I am aware, yes this bad), in a bad place without many choices and someone decided to take advantage. well-- look how much fckn trauma this bastard can fit.

But okay, Tivan'n just recently hit 17, they managed to jump a ship with a friendly Captain they knew, they had some negotiations. And he, knowing them enough already, agreed to get them some work until they pay off the trip-- like in Kit's case they do end up passing out on him and the patch-up begins. It ends up managed and they even get a nap in kolto, but once they are out of fever and slowly sleeping the worst of it off post the kolto dip-- Captain breaks it to them that "Yeah kid, that cost a small fortune, I guess you're gonna be stuck with me for a while. I'll let you work it off, I know you're a good mechanic so, food and boarding for your work until you break even for the trip and kolto, wha'cha think?" 

Obviously, it wasn't much of a choice so they ended up taking him up on it, they couldn't really force themselves to stand up and be functional too soon, even with kolto, but despite the Captain being relatively friendly they could feel his calculating gaze on them, every day they spend still laying down just ticking off more time they'll spend paying it off. So they only stayed on bed-rest for a week and some change before forcing themselves to get up and contribute, and they put themselves to work with an enthusiasm that was not unnoticed. They realized fast that at this point they will have to bite their tongue and keep those work hours steady since they already showed they can get up and do it, so no more preferential treatment for their back.

And it takes a while longer and a stop-over on a planet with some shore leave as the Captain is doing some business for anything else to crop up, which they spend tucked safely in their bunk and trying to get as much rest as they can without bending over machinery or having to be upright. It's not that they had any actual credits left to spend, anyway. Okay, they had a bit, because giving all they had towards the trip didn't seem too wise so they tucked away some of it still. More to work off but at least they still have something for emergencies if need be.

Life somehow goes forward like always, their back gets better very slowly and they clock their hours, eat as much food as they can dare still wary of all the costs, and go to their bunk, rarely socializing with anyone else but the Captain coming over to hover over their shoulder as they poke something in the engine room, the first mechanic heard some of their ideas and technical stuff and basically went 'you go off kid, you're doing good' so Captain is mostly the one aiming their efforts towards everything working better. He clocked fast that he has some real talent on his hands, just gotta aim it-- especially since he literally pays them close to nothing. And will continue for a while, until they break even.

And it's Tivan'n so they are friendly and banter, even if there's the slightest concern there and they hesitate to call him by name anymore-- and that changed dynamic kinda goes to their Captain's head just a bit. And he starts more or less subtly flirting with them, and they don't protest, just twist that into their banter despite a slight flush rising on their cheeks every single time.

He thinks it's playing coy because fuck they have a mirror--they must know exactly what they look like and what they are doing-- when they really just don't have a lot of experience on that front-- and well, he is very pretty and older than them so... direct interest like this is very much blush-worthy.

So one afternoon, when they are fully engrossed in the maintenance check-up, one he knows will take them late into the night because they hate leaving it unfinished. He lets himself thread a hand through their hair and lean down to whisper into their ear "come see me in my quarters when you're done, darlin'." it's quiet and apparent propositioning and he delights in the visible shiver, slightly wide-eyed look in their eyes and the rapid flush on their face it causes. And hell if he didn't have plans for them he'd happily pull them up right there and then and fuck them straight into the wall. But it will wait. And he looks at them expectantly until they choke out a small "Captain." and a nod of acknowledgment. Their face is a deep, nearly glowing purple as they go to turn back to work-- oh yeah, he has some plans for them.

[tiedyeflannels]

Dating Rumors

Jeon Jungkook x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Angst, Hurt/ No Comfort

Dating Rumors: pt.2

Main Masterlist

A/N: Hello there! Thanks for stopping by! I'm not the best at writing angst even though I absolutely love reading it, but I thought I would give it a try when my brain came up with this idea. Also, I'm not sure if I should write a part 2 for this... Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Wha-

I slowly opened one eye when I heard the sound of knocking. Peeking over to the clock on my nightstand to know what time it was, I read…

2:15 am.

I sighed, closing my eyes to go back to sleep when another round of knocks came, this time a bit louder. I sat up this time, looking for my glasses, and putting them on once I found them. 

Still feeling groggy, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, tossed the blanket to the side and got up from my warm bed to see what the commotion was. As I was making my way through my apartment yet another round of knocks came again, but this time they were non-stop.

Who the hell would be knocking at my door at 2 in the morning?

I grumbled as I looked through the peephole in the door to see that it was none other than Jeon Jungkook. I sighed as the frantic knocking persisted, but finally opened the door only to reveal a disheveled Jungkook. 

“Kook, what are you doing here? It’s two in the morning,” I asked, still rubbing my eyes.

His eyes looked desperate for some reason and it’s most likely the reason that he’s standing in my doorway this early in the morning. 

“Would you mind if I came in,” he asked.

Now I’m starting to worry about him because of the way he’s acting.

“Ye-yeah, of course!” I ushered him inside and looked out of the apartment in case someone was following him.

Luckily, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, sans for the stray cat that always sleeps on the balcony railing.

I finally closed the door and turned back to him.

“Are you okay? What happened,” I asked while I followed him to the kitchen.

He ran his hands through his hair and looked at me with a worried, almost scared expression.

“They’re not true. None of them are true, Y/n.” 

“Kook, what are you talking about? What isn’t true,” I asked, confused at how he’s acting right now.

He started pacing a little, which did not do anything to calm my nerves about this whole situation so I walked over to him and gently grabbed his hand.

“Kookie, I’m going to need you to calm down so you can tell me what’s going on.”

I gestured for him to take a seat at one of the bar stools near the kitchen island and told him to take deep breaths while I walked over to the fridge, opening it up.

“Do you want something to drink before you tell me what’s happening,” I looked over my shoulder.

He nodded, still taking deep breaths while I grabbed two water bottles and walked back to him. I handed him his water bottle as I leaned against the counter in front of him, taking a sip. He took a few gulps, almost finishing half of it before looking back at me.

“Are you calm enough to tell me what’s ‘not true’?”

“Okay so… a few articles were published a couple of hours ago with a video of me and a girl in my house hugging and-”

“Wait! Someone was stalking you,” I asked. This is not something new to him and the members, but it never fails to surprise me everytime it happens.

“Yes, but that’s not the main point right now,” he shook his head, disregarding the stalking for right now.

“Anyway, they were saying that she could be my secret girlfriend because all of the evidence is pointing to the person in the video actually being me. Not saying that it wasn’t, but as soon as I saw the rumors I had to tell you that they weren’t true in any way so… I booked it all the way from my place to here.”

I slowly nodded, trying to process what the hell he just said because I was still tired from being woken up this early.

“So… what you’re saying is that there are some dating rumors swirling around with you and another girl and you booked it here at two in the morning to let me know that they aren’t true when you could’ve just sent me a text that I would’ve read when I got up?”

He nodded, looking a little sad. I couldn’t put my finger on it when I felt a little sad when he told me that he was with a girl, but that didn’t stop a sly grin from forming on my lips.

“So… you were with a girl?” 

“Y/n/n, that’s not the point,” he sighed, placing his water bottle on the island, “What I’m saying is that nothing that you might read in the news is true.”

“Look Kook, who you’re in a relationship with is none of my business, your decisions are yours and as your best friend, I should be supportive of you.” 

He stood up so fast that it almost knocked over the chair and took two steps to stand in front of me, looking at me in a way that was pleading for me to understand.

“Y/n there’s nothing for you to be supportive of because we aren’t dating.” 

I looked at him, trying to figure out why he’s saying this, but ultimately shook my head in confusion and started to move away from him. He grabbed my wrist just as I was about to walk toward the living room, pulling me to him.

“You have to believe me.”

His voice was starting to sound frustrated and I started to feel the same as this conversation went on.

I huffed, “Listen, I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to tell me that you’re not dating that girl!”

Quickly, he let go of my wrist, but cupped my face just as fast.

“Because I’m in love with you! Not some random girl that came to hang out with me at my house!”

My eyes widened at the confession. Everything became quiet and it felt like time had stopped around us. We stood there for what felt like an eternity just looking at each other. 

“What,” I whispered, though it sounded way too loud in the deafening silence that had surrounded us.

He took his hands away from my face and let them drop to his sides as he sighed, “I’m in love with you, Y/n. I have been for a while. That’s why I was trying so hard to convince you that the articles aren’t true.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was in love with me?! As much as I wanted that to be true, I still couldn’t believe it.

I shook my head, “Kook, you’re sleep deprived, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Y/n, I know what I’m saying. Don’t you believe me,” he asked.

I started to slowly back away from him, “No, because it’s super late and you should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

I turned around to walk to the living room. He followed me, “Why can’t you believe that I’m in love with-”

I whirled around to face him, “Because that can’t happen!” 

Tears started to well up in my eyes as I continued, “We… can’t happen.”

He looked visibly confused at my statement. I sighed, willing away the tears before they could fall.

“We can’t happen,” I repeated. He took a step towards me, “Why not?”

“Because, Jungkook, you’re an idol. You’re famous, but I’m not. Sure I work with you and the others, but no one knows me. And think about ARMY, do you really think that they would be okay with you being in a relationship with someone that they don’t know?”

He thought for a moment, “I think that they would be happy for me.”

“Do you really believe that? That some of them wouldn’t come after me because I’m some rando who’s dating one of their favorite idols? That they would peacefully let us be? Because I don’t think they would.”

He was going to say something, but I interrupted him, “and as much as I would love to be in a relationship with you, I think that being friends is about as much as I’m going to be a part of your life, Jungkook.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So that’s it? We know each other’s feelings, but we can’t be together?”

I sadly nodded. He crossed his arms and I leaned against the back of the couch. We stood in silence for a few moments before Jungkook sighed and walked over to lean against the couch next to me. 

“So what do we do now,” he whispered.

I glanced at him and sucked in a breath, already regretting what I’m about to say.

“You go home, we get some rest, and forget about this night.”

He gently took my hand and I closed my eyes to stop the tears that were forming again. 

“I don’t think that I can do that, Y/n.”

I looked at him and saw his eyebrows furrowed like they usually do when he’s tearing up.

“We’re gonna have to for now, but maybe one day when things settle down we can try this and see where it goes?”

I wanted to give him some sort of hope, but I wasn’t sure if I completely believed what I was saying.

He slowly nodded at my statement as I reluctantly pushed off the couch, letting his hand fall from my and made my way over to the door, placing my hand on the cold handle.

“But I think it would be for the best if you left now. It's late and we still have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s gaze fell to the ground before trudging over to the door. I opened the door as he came closer, stepping to the side. He started to walk out, but paused in the middle of the doorway and turned to face me.

“Are we okay?”

I put on my best smile and nodded, “Of course we are, Kook. Now get some rest, okay?”

He nodded, “Goodnight, Y/n/n.”

With that, he left. I sighed and whispered to myself, “Goodnight, Kookie,” before closing the door.

I stood with my back against the door. What just happened, I thought.

I felt like crying, but there wasn’t anything to cry about because I was right. I didn’t want to get attacked or followed just because I was in a relationship with him, no matter how much I really did want that relationship.

Realizing that thinking about it won’t help, I pushed off the door to make my way toward my room to get some sleep and avoid overthinking.

This really is like the ‘right person, wrong time’ trope, huh?

I scoffed as I settled into bed. “God, I hate that trope.”

[cringe-but-proud]

Hello! I noticed that your requests are open.

I was wondering if I could request a (2023) Wonka x Fem! Reader where she’s a writer who had/has been writing about the happenings with the startup of Willy’s chocolate shop, and writes about chocolate but has yet to find a chocolate she really likes so Willy makes it his mission to create something perfect for her, which leads to the two of them falling in love?

No pressure if you can’t! Have a great day!

Yea

Willy Wonka x Fem! Interviewer!Reader (Wonka 2023)

A/n: Just wanna say thanks for all the support! I was really nervous about posting my writing, but y'all have been nothing but supportive 😽 My requests are open (see pinned post for info) feel free to request any character 😛

After the sudden success of Wonka's chocolate and the downfall of the chocolate cartel, there were a lot of publishers around wanting to get the story of exactly how this all occured.

Willy was getting a lot of requests for one on one interviews from a lot of different people. But, he decided to do one with the only interviewer he'd met before.

Y/n.

She'd talked to him before all of his success, back when he was still hiding from the chocolate cartel and having to do his business in secret.

She was one of the few people who had taken him seriously while also not seeing him as a threat.

He was a bit excited to get to see her again.

The interview was happening in the part of his factory that was considered his office (he didn't like that title, because it sounded "too serious"). When Y/n arrived for the interview Willy sat right next to her.

"Thanks for letting me talk with you." She started. "I can imagine you've gotten a lot of offers from different publishers to talk about everything that's been happening lately."

Willy nodded. "There have. But, I wanted to see you." He replied, offering her a soft smile.

"Oh?" She tilted her head. "Is there a reason for that?"

"For wanting to see you? Of course there is. It's because I already know who great you are at this." He stated. "After the last time we talked, Noodle read me the part of the paper that our interview was in."

"Noodle?"

"Oh, Noodle's sort of like my business partner. The brains of the operation."

She nodded. "Could you tell me more about that?"

"Absolutely."

Willy went on talking about Noodle, how she'd helped him, the adventures they'd gone on, and how close they'd gotten. Y/n continued asking questions, Willy gave adequate answers, and eventually, Y/n closed the notebook she was writing in with a satisfied nod.

"I think that'll be enough for now." She said. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, actually." Willy leaned forward in his seat. "I wanted to ask you a few questions."

She blinked. "Oh?"

"I feel like you know a lot about me, but I don't know anything about you." He explains. "And I think I'd like to learn about you."

She was a bit flattered by that and gave him a faint smile. "Alright... Feel free to ask me your questions."

"Why'd you become an interviewer?" He asked.

"I think everyone's story is worth telling." She began. "And what better way is there to learn about someone's story than by asking them directly?"

Willy liked that answer. "How long have you been an interviewer?"

She thought for a moment. "The first time I interviewed someone was for a school project when I was 15. So, technically... 7 years."

He liked doing this. He liked learning about her. Maybe he just liked talking to her.

"What's your favorite chocolate?" He asked.

"I don't have one."

"What?!" His eyes widened. "Everyone has a favorite chocolate!"

She shrugged. "I don't."

"Do you not like chocolate?"

"It's not that I don't like it. I've just never tried a chocolate that stuck out to me."

Willy couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could someone not have a favorite chocolate?! "Well, we've gotta change that." He said as he got out of his seat.

"Wha-"

"Follow me!" He took her hand and began leading her down the halls of his factory.

She was about to protest, but she realized she didn't have anywhere she needed to be. And why would she pass up the opportunity to spend more time with a guy who was this cute?

He led her through the factory, stopping in different rooms to let her try the many variations of chocolate he'd made. And each time she said the same thing.

"It's good."

He was glad she didn't hate anything he'd given her, but he wanted to impress her! He didn't know why he wanted to impress her so badly, he just knew this was something he needed to do.

After several more attempts at wowing her, Willy sighed, feeling a bit defeated.

"Well, Y/n..." He said. "I guess you really don't have a favorite chocolate..."

Oh god, now she felt bad. She thought for a moment before speaking again. "Y'know, now that I'm thinking about it," She said. "I really liked the third one that you let me try."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think that one's your favorite?"

"Definitely."

He beamed. "That's great! That's amazing! I'm so glad you found one you liked!"

Y/n smiled at his excitement. Truthfully, she couldn't even remember what the third chocolate she'd eaten was. But, if saying it was her favorite made Willy this happy, then it was definitely her favorite.

She finally left the factory, surprised to see that the sun was starting to go down which meant she'd probably spent a good 4 hours with Willy. She'd barely gotten 2 steps down the street when she was stopped.

"Wait!" She turned to see Willy running toward her holding a jar of... Something. He stopped in front of her and caught his breath for a moment before handing her the jar. "This is for you."

Y/n looked at Willy, at the jar, and then back at Willy. "Why?"

"Because it's your favorite." He smiled at her.

"Oh!" He was giving her a gift. That made sense. "Right. I knew that. Thank you."

"It's no problem. We should... Talk again soon." Willy suggested.

"For another interview?"

"Just to talk with each other." He smiled at her. "I think you're fun to talk to."

"Oh." A blush creeped on to her cheeks at that. "I'd like that."

His smile widened. "Great! I'll be looking forward to it." He began to step backwards toward his factory. "Till next time, Y/n."

Y/n gave him a small wave goodbye before finally continuing to walk away.

A couple minutes into her walk she opened the jar he'd given her and popped one of the chocolates into her mouth.

Maybe this one really was her favorite.

[peachhcs]

good thing it was a rainy day

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: part to 2 to rainy day at the lake house where some pent up sexual tension escalates between samy and will after being forced to stay away from one another due to everyone's obnoxious teasing

2k words

warnings: 18+, SMUT, this is literally like all smut, sub!will, sub!reader, switch, oral (m receiving), p in v (protected!!), riding, making out, hair pulling, slight praising, hickeys, consensual!, getting caught at the end

soooo here’s part 2!!! this is very explicit so read at your own risk! (warning u now before u hit read more lmao) publishing things like this genuinely scares me bc i know people can write so much better smut and i've never published smut before 🫣 but hope y’all like it?? idk i’m not the best at writing sex but like yeah! (p.s. pic 1 and pic 3 are from tumblr) (p.s.s. working on my requests rn too!!)

au masterlist | part 1

will's hands glided across samy's back as they deepened their kiss. the boy desperately tried ignoring what was going on down in his pants because if he focused too hard on it, he'd for sure cum before anything really happened. the brunette wasn't making it easy either. she bit and tugged on will's bottom lip like her life depended on it and the little tugs at the root of his curls had him losing it fast. samy's little comment from a few minutes ago had will trying to keep his sounds in—one, because he didn't want to get caught and two, he was trying to prove he wasn't the loud one.

although every time samy grinded her core against his own or kissed particularly hard, will struggled strangling his little whimpers and groans. she definitely wasn't making his easy for him.

the girl's hand started wandering lower again. she moved slowly and calculated like she was intentionally teasing the boy beneath her. will was desperate for her touch and her slow pace was killing him.

"s-samy, please," will's blue eyes met her own where a smirk replaced the gentle smile.

"desperate, huh?" she mused, finally reaching will's waistband again.

"mhm, god—" he couldn't stop the whimper this time. she was so close, yet so far still.

samy grinned. she reveled in those sounds her boyfriend made. he was so tough on the outside, so knowing this was how he got for her was a treat. she finally decided to have some mercy and allowed her hand to make contact with will's bulge. he immediately jerked his hips into her touch, biting his lip so hard he started tasting blood.

"this okay?" samy wondered, always double checking.

"yes, yeah. it's perfect," will breathily got out. she smiled, pushing his curls away from his somewhat sweaty forehead.

for it being so rainy and cool outside, the temperature inside of samy's room was hot.

she palmed will through his shorts for a few more moments before slowly pushing them down. his cock came free in one go, making will hiss at the sudden air against it. samy's eyes widened even though she's seen him multiple times before. each time was always as good as the first—always so red and throbbing for a release.

"so, so pretty, will," samy praised as she carefully took him in her hand. she used his pre as lube, slowly running her hand up and down his length in soft strokes.

"mm, yeah. feels so good," will muttered, head falling back onto the pillow in relief.

the brunette leaned down to leave gentle kisses to will's tip. the small feeling of her mouth on him had will's hips stuttering, trying to keep them under control.

"shit, hughes."

samy pumped him for a bit longer before deciding she was ready to attach her lips to him. his pre was enough lube and by the way he twitched in her hand, she knew he was already close. her pretty lips took him in one go resulting in the most guttural moan from her boyfriend. will's hands gripped onto the sheets, struggling to keep his hips still.

"fuck," he cursed a little too loudly. her lips were like heaven and the feeling was something will tried engraving into his mind forever.

"so good for me, will," samy hummed, meeting his gaze. the boy nearly lost it seeing her like that with his dick in her mouth. he took a mental snapshot, wanting that memory until he died—messy hair, glossed over eyes, hickeys on every inch of her skin—he was so, so fucked.

she picked up her pace, bobbing her head a little faster than before. her hands splayed across will's hips as purchase and leverage to help with the speed.

"i'm close already," will moaned, feeling that coil in his stomach about to snap.

"cum for me, will. it's okay," samy urged and her words were enough to send him over the edge and see stars.

his hips bucked up on their own as he released right into samy's mouth. "oh fuck. shit," he got out.

his chest heaved in deep pants in attempt to get his breathing back under control while samy just grinned. "d-did you swallow all of it?" the boy wondered, dragging his hand back up her thigh.

the brunette stuck her tongue out to show that there was nothing left. will groaned and that sight was enough to keep his dick hard. his other hand tugged samy back down to his mouth, kissing her particularly hard being no where near finished with her yet.

"god, you're so pretty," the boy muttered against her lips earning a small blush across samy's cheeks.

his hands tugged at her waistband as an indication that he wanted her shorts off. samy kicked them down her legs being left in her swimsuit bottoms that left little to the imagination. will's hand wandered across the exposed skin and took handfuls of her ass. he moaned at the feeling of her flesh in his hands while samy kissed him deeper.

the hockey player flipped them over so he now had the upper hand. a smirk lined his lips while he let his hand wander further down to her own waistband again. samy read the look in his eye, a smile crossing her lips as she tugged her boyfriend down for more kisses.

will took that opportunity to push her swimsuit aside and slowly slide one of his fingers into her warm walls. his action had a loud moan escaping samy's lips which brought a grin to his lips.

"fuck, will," samy's eyes closed, nails digging into his arms.

"this okay?" the boy breathed against her neck.

"mhm, more than okay," the brunette's own whimpers started escaping her lips as will's finger picked up speed before deciding to add a second one. he smirked to himself—who was the loud one now?

will found a good pace while peppering more light hickeys across his girlfriend's chest. they were for sure never going to hear the end of it from anyone after this. the sounds she made had the boy going crazy—all of it going straight to his now throbbing cock. every time samy's mouth opened will twitched, desperately searching for his second orgasm.

"need you so bad, pretty girl," he breathed into her ear earning another delicious moan in response.

"me too. need you inside me, will," samy's voice broke. she really couldn't look more gorgeous to will. her tear stained cheeks and kiss swollen lips made the boy go completely numb.

he slowly pulled his fingers out while samy dug through her nightstand for a condom. will's gaze fixated on her as she tore the wrapper open with her teeth and carefully rolled it on him. his hips jerked at her touch, a low chuckle escaping his lips between the breathy pants.

he grabbed ahold of samy's face, both of them falling back onto the bed again as he devoured her lips once more. in the next second, samy straddled will's hips.

"i'm so in love with you," will mumbled between kisses.

"so, so in love with you. so handsome," the girl replied.

she began lining will up with her entrance. as soon as the tip was in, each of them let out probably the loudest moans ever that would definitely let everyone else in the house know what they were up to. will's grasp on her hips became bruising while sang tugged harshly on his curls.

the further down samy went, the harder it was for will to keep his hips still. he used whatever self-control he had left to stay still as he bottomed out. the two were so desperate for one another they nearly came immediately.

"oh my god— fuck," a broken moan escaped will's lips as his eyes squeezed shut.

"you can move," samy urged. her walls stretched themselves out around the hockey player's thick cock—the feeling making her head spin.

"fuck, i can't. not yet. gonna fucking cum if i move," will panted, desperately trying to think of unsexy things so he wouldn't blow his load in the first five seconds.

after another few seconds, will found it in himself to start moving. he slowly bucked his hips up, hands digging into samy's flesh that would for sure leave marks. the brunette met his thrusts with a roll of her hips. the two began finding a good pace and samy's grinding turned into bouncing.

"yeah, fuck. so good for me will," the girl's head tipped back exposing all of the hickeys under her jaw and down her throat.

will felt his cock throb at the sight knowing he left all of those and they'd be impossible to hide.

"so fucking hot. shit hughes," the blonde moaned out. his hands went back to her ass—her bouncing turning his brain to mush.

it didn't take long for the bouncing to become too much for the hockey player. that feeling in his stomach returned and samy knew will was closed with how his cock twitched inside of her. she used her hands pressed against his chest as leverage to bounce faster and making sure her cleavage was on full display to try and get will to his orgasm.

"close will?" the girl wondered.

"mhm, so close—fuck—gonna make me cum," the boy got out in broken pants, eyes clued to her chest on full display for him.

samy smirked, working herself faster and ignoring the burn in her thighs form all the work she was doing. the sounds will let out was enough to push her to her own orgasm. she moaned out as she clenched around his length, riding out her high.

"cum for me will," she urged. her words and orgasm was enough to push the boy to his second orgasm.

he spilled into the condom with a string of curse words and samy's name leaving his lips while he held her down against him, riding out his own high.

"god, fuck. came so fucking hard," will panted once he regained some of his breath.

samy grinned, pushing his curls away from his sweaty forehead, both of their skins were glowing with moisture as the room filled with sex.

"did so good for me," the girl praised which had will's cheeks flushing.

"i love you so much," he mumbled and samy leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

suddenly, there was a rough knock on the door that had both of them tensing. the two exchanged a glance, waiting for someone to say something on the other side.

"just so you know, eth and i heard all of that. you guys are disgusting. you're so glad you don't have a room next to mom and dad," luke's voice came through while they could hear ethan's little snickers.

"fuck off," samy called back to her brother while will's cheeks turned a deep crimson. he'd never be able to look luke in the eyes for the rest of the summer.

"i gotta appreciate it though. will's got hella game," ethan spoke now and they could hear luke slap his friend on the arm for that comment.

"next time y'all need to get off take a drive somewhere," luke said before him and ethan walked away.

bonus:

will's eyes were glued to samy as she dragged him through the kitchen. they had smiles on their faces and the same look in their eyes while the girl searched for her car keys in the mess of everyone else's.

the boy's lips were already nipped at her neck as they stumbled their way to the garage. her hickeys from a few weeks ago hadn't even faded yet, but will was determined to add more.

as the two made it through the kitchen, they caught luke's gaze where he sat at the table eating some throw together peanut butter and jelly sandwich, his eyes widened when he saw samy's car keys, the look in their eyes, and will's slight bulge down in his shorts already.

"you fucking whores!" the middle hughes yelled, dropping his sandwich in disgust.

suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore nor will he be anytime soon.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven��t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

Taglist:

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[precious-little-scoundrel]

| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

💋Hope you enjoyed AND REMEMBER -prompts are now open.

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[lizzieblopaz24]

¡HEAR ME OUT! ¡HEAR ME OUT! A Sabine and Shin fanfic with a plot of fake girlfriends in college (rivals to lovers). Here's a part of what I'm writing, and I hope to publish it on Ao3 soon:

"Changing the subject. Have you found a solution for your project yet?" asks the African-American girl curiously.

Sabine sighs wearily. "I haven't been able to find something with enough power to generate a laser. I'm starting to think about dropping out of university if I don't figure it out soon."

"Well, I have good and bad news for you," Ketsu tries to suppress a smile, karma was definitely funny. "A girl in my prototype class made a laser weapon; maybe she can help you."

"Please tell me who she is," the Mandalorian almost lunges at her friend; she needed that information if she wanted to graduate with a double major.

"Jyn Erso."

Sabine turns to where the girl is, tossing grapes to Shin to catch with her mouth. That was bad; the only person who could help her was the best friend of the girl she just treated badly. Without a doubt, Jyn would tell her to go to hell along with her thesis. "Damn."

Swallowing all her pride, the Mandalorian got up and headed toward the table where Jyn was sitting. Ketsu, on the other hand, was dying of laughter; she didn't want to miss the show.

"Dude, you have to aim for my mouth," Jyn says with laughter when Shin throws a grape at her head with the intent to hit her.

"Jyn... Can I talk to you?" Sabine asks, ignoring the look Shin gives her back; she was probably checking out her behind.

The raven-haired girl diverted her attention from the grapes and smiled with satisfaction. "I'm sorry, but I'm a bit busy. Can you move out of the way?"

Sabine glances at Shin with annoyance when she hears her laughing with complicity. Naboo seemed unfazed by the hostility, and with complete serenity, she threw a grape into the air and caught it in her mouth. "Come on, Jyn, she probably needs something. You never know when you might need a favor."

The Mandalorian suppresses the urge to punch the blonde when she winks at her, too flirtatious and sexy, more than she'd like to admit.

"Yeah... I only do favors for my friends' girlfriends," Jyn places her hands on the backrest, adopting a more relaxed posture than before, making it clear that she didn't care about what Sabine wanted.

Sabine clenches her fists; she was going to regret her next decision. "Fine, if I accept your idiot friend's proposal, would you help me with an energy problem for my project?"

"Ding ding ding ding," Jyn throws a grape and catches it. "Come to our dorm at 8, and we'll discuss whatever you want about your project."

"Okay, I'll see you tonight."

"See? It wasn't that hard, ad'ika (love)," Shin says with satisfaction. "By the way, those jeans look great on you."

Sabine rolls her eyes and throws a grape from Jyn's bowl directly at the blonde, but Naboo easily catches it. "Screw you."

"I love it when you play hard to get," Shin blows a kiss into the air.

The Mandalorian flips her middle finger; yes, she was definitely already regretting that decision.

[honorary-knight-of-favonius]

Amorist - Pantalone

Summary: Lone adores your talent so much he tries to replicate it.

Warnings: Subby!Pantalone, Toys, Drunk!Pantalone, Fan!Pantalone, Writer!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sensitive Pantalone, Crying!Pantalone, Fem!Reader

I always felt eyes on me, more specifically but I was never sure who it was. All I knew was that these eyes showed up while I was typing away in the coffee shop. I tended to go for writing inspiration and some writing snacks. And yet everytime without fail I’d always feel these eyes. Sometimes when I left my laptop on the table to go to the bathroom I would find a comment on grammar or a sticky note telling me how to enhance a scene or that the mystery person was excited to see what was next.

In fact I once wrote on a sticky note for this mystery person my name and tumblr profile in case they wanted to read other things from me and when I got back from the bathroom it was gone and still grammar was fixed and tips were written down. I was happy to be seen as a good author in person rather than just the internet.

In fact I enjoyed the advice and tips that I’d make it a habit to go into the bathroom for at least 15 minutes to allow the reader to repair what I wrote along with reading it. When I finished my first book there was a sticky note and a company card.  

‘If you're interested in publishing I have a friend who’s willing to help. Just call the number, also. . .Will you be writing a second book? I need to know if Addison marries Evan or Thomas!’ 

Thanks to the amazing advice the reader was giving I didn’t debate long on the decision to call after I did some research. When I got home I called the number on the card and within seconds a throat was cleared. 

“Hello this is Pantalone Harbinger. How may I assist you?” his voice was toned and mellow and soft. 

“I was given your card, I heard you could help me with publishing a book.” A little ‘oh’ passed through the phone along with a ‘I didn’t she’d call already.’ though I’m sure he didn’t notice it. 

He cleared his throat once more before speaking, “That’s right, I own a publishing house. One of my employees said he found a real talent for writing.” The way he said employees was odd but i didn’t question it much. 

“Yes, well. The advice given to me was rather helpful. So I figured I continue to listen to it and give you a call.” I explained. 

“I see, so your interested in publishing, well, if I can help I certainly will, however I must see the work you produce, I know it is rather brash but if you could email me the transcript I review it and email or call you at a later date.” I bit my lip at this, though the offer was good it was too good and well what if he simply used my story as his? 

“I’ll need to sign a contract.” I say

“For?” He asked

“A Non-disclosure agreement,” he hummed, “I need to be assured you nor your company would steal my work and claim it as your own.” The man hummed once more before hastily agreeing. 

“When would you like to sign the NDA? I have some free time in the afternoon tomorrow.” I paused. 

“T-tomorrow?” The man giggled

“Yes, in all honesty my employee is rather pervasive and managed to give an excellent summary of the story that compelled me to fashion up an NDA in hopes you’d call.” I hummed. 

“W-well, I am also free in the afternoon, is there anywhere you’d like to meet?” I ask

“Perhaps my office, I like to keep work and personal life separate, the address is on the card. I'll tell my aid you’ll stop by.” I hummed and he bidded me a goodnight before hanging up. Without many hold ups I sprinted out of my morning class and hurried to the office on the card and with anxiety coursing through my veins I went into the publishing house and then the elevator which took me to the ‘big boss’s office’. When I got there I saw a man without a suit jacket working and I approached him. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked. 

“Y-yes? I believe so, Mr. Harbinger told me to meet him here in the afternoon.” The man looked up and seemed to recognize me before hurrying to stand and leading me to the office door which showed a man with black hair and violet eyes, he had glasses in a completely black tux he too had lost the jacket and tie, in fact some buttons on his shirt were undone. 

“Sir, your afternoon appointment is here.” He looked up and smiled before ushering me inside. Once I was seated the aid I can only assume closed the door and left us be. 

“It’s a pleasure, ms. . .” I coughed.

“Y/n, please just address me as Y/n.” I say

“Then please call me Lone, so you wished to have me sign an NDA yes?” I nodded, and he pulled it out and handed it to me. I read it through before signing it first then he followed suit. When he looked at the NDA he blushed a bit, like a fan would before their idol. In fact it was rather endearing. 

“Apologies. If you wouldn’t mind, I'd like to discuss a contract.” He said. 

“S-shouldn’t you read my transcript first?” I asked

“W-well yes, however I meant a potential contract.” I nodded, “So this is how this will go, I’ll need you to send you transcript over to have me review it and when I finish reviewing it I will email or call you to give you my decision on signing a full contract, when this happens I would like to discuss other details of the novel. Does this make sense?” I nodded and he smiled before getting up. I followed him before holding out my hand he took it and with a gleeful smile shook it, “It was a pleasure to meet you Y/n.” I nodded 

“Likewise Lone.”  Over the next week I was riddled with anxiety and when I got that call I was exceedingly nervous but I took it and heard his voice. 

“Are you free to discuss signing a contract with Northland publishing house?” 

“W-when?” I ask

“As early as possible, tonight if we could,” 

“I-I’m free after 10 PM, will that work?” I ask

“Yes, any place you’d wish to meet at?” I bit my lip.

“Umm, Not really.” I say. 

“I’ll set up a reservation at Yue Pavillon, will that be alright.” I chuckled, accepting. The phone hung up and I groaned, I really didn’t have that kind of money. I chose to worry later, but later came much sooner and headed to the meeting place where I saw Lone and he hurried to me saying I was his guest and led me to the table. For the most part Lone was extremely kind, and spoke of my way of writing and my plotline saying it was something he never even saw coming, he also was curious which boy Addison would choose. Eventually after dinner and some glasses of wine he was happily talking to me almost as if I were a friend.

“I-I apologize if I am too involved in the story. In fact when I started I knew I was trapped. I’m so excited to be signing with such talent. In fact I don’t think anything I’ve ever read has brought out as much reaction as yours had. I felt like I was in a trance.” He complimented which caused him to drunkenly ask something, “Speaking of which are those rather, erotic scenes. Were those translated from videos or personal experiences?”

“Personal, I didn’t know how either person felt or how it’d feel and thus I wished to have a genuine telling of the scene.” He giggled. 

“I thought so, it sounded too good for it having a video reference.” He chuckled, “You know, I’m not supposed to ask this but would you be willing to use a night with me as reference material?” Lone asked, his eyes were hazy and the blush he had gained made him adorable.

“I believe it is inappropriate to do such things to someone who would be considered my boss.” I say, within an instant his expression dropped and was all pouty. He bit his lip before lighting up. 

“I won’t be your boss until after you sign the contract, unless you dislike working for people you sleep with.” He sighed, “Oh! I could always assign a different editor, that way your work wouldn’t be funneled to me at all, that would make it so I wasn’t your boss!” He smiled like a child, “We could do that, right?”

I chuckled and reached over to take his drink, “So the editorial manager was going to edit my transcripts? I didn’t think I would have such an honor.” I say. 

“Are you kidding! H-how could I not read that masterpiece! I had to wait for months just to gain the confidence to approach you with stupid post-it notes. I honestly can’t believe such a talented person wasn’t earning money from their work. In all honesty I read your transcript within a day. I wanted to call you the moment after but I chose to read some of your posted work. The way you write is eye-catching and the plotlines, you took hated tropes and made them likable. Then there were those scenes, they were in so much detail and described them so much I couldn’t help trying to replicate them myself, I-I was in a trance with everything I read.” Lone praised, only making me blush in return. He was my mystery reader. 

“You were my mystery reader?” I ask

“I-I. . .I don’t think I should’ve told you that.” He giggled, “It was a funny chance. I was meeting someone in the coffee shop for publishing reasons and when they were describing their drag of a novel I caught a glimpse of yours and began reading it from afar. I was in awe of your talent. Of course that meet-up ended as I wasn’t interested. But after that I made it a goal to stop by that coffee shop to see if you were there. After a few days I learned your schedule.” Lone said, he tried reaching for his drink which I held away from him. 

“I can’t believe you managed to keep your composure when I was sitting in your office a week ago.” I smirked, he whined and I felt his legs become restless. 

“I r-really wasn’t, I made so many slip-ups. Such as the contract and then when you shook my hand, it felt like my body was on fire.” I smiled.

“If I knew you were such a big fan I would’ve given you an autograph.” I say, he whined and covered his mouth. I sighed and stood up, “you offered yourself as reference material, that offer is still open?” I ask

“Y-yes, i-it’ll always be open.” He said, stunned. 

“Then, shouldn’t we head to a hotel? Or would you rather do this in your own bed so you could relive the memories?” I went close to his ear, taking his hand in mine. 

“M-mine, my bed. . .please.” I smiled and helped him up. Lone called someone and a black car appeared and we got in and Lone told them to take him home, thank god I use the subways. When I got to his apartment building he opened the door and let me in. I waited for him to open his door while making sure my hands were on his hips and I was kissing his neck. 

“F-fuck. . .That- T-there!” Lone managed to open the door and I didn’t let him go in, simply allowing him to hold the door open as I continued my kisses. 

“Y/n~ T-The door is opened, we can go in.” I hummed at his words, “p-please? M-my neighbors might see us.” he whined, I sighed and went inside and closed the door before pressing him against the wall. I continued to hold his hips against mine, as my kisses littered his neck. 

“Are you sure you want this? We can still stop.” I say, he turned to face me with an alluring look as he wrapped his arms around my neck. 

“I want this, use me, please?” I smiled and slammed my lips on his as he grinded on my thigh thinking I didn’t realize. I pulled away from him and saw his darling little expression, his lips were pink and plump as he panted. 

“Well, we we going to fuck here or your bed?” I ask, he gulped and hurriedly lead me to his bedroom where I noticed many toys scattered around, there were dildos that were suctioned onto the wood floor, then there were cuffs, blindfolds, gags on the bed, but what caught my attention the most was the magic wand and a chastity cage. He is either really kinky or bought this to replicate my scenes. I watched as he knocked down many of the toys to the floor but I smirked at his eagerness. 

“You really did try to replicate my scenes.” I said picking up a gag, Lone quickly grabbed it hiding behind his back embarrassed. 

“I-I’m not a liar.” He said. 

“I can tell, there's dried cum staining your floor. In fact I find it rather endearing.” I say. He whined and grabbed the belt loops on my jeans pulling me close. 

“Play with me?” He whimpered, I chuckled and pet his head before latch our lips together making him humm happily only to feel something wet against my face, I pulled away to see Lone crying, shit did I tease him to much?

“D-damn it.” He sniffled. 

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked, going on my knees.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, “T-this happens a-all the time.” I tilted my head. 

“I-I’m not sad s-so please keep going.” I nodded and wiped his tears before pinning him to the bed, He continued to cry but he kept insisting he was alright and he wanted to keep going so I took the bindings I can only assume were on the bed to keep his hands away. Thankfully he had taken his jacket off in the car because it was hot and so he was left in his suit pants and a black button-up. I ripped his shirt open and got rid of his shoes, socks and pants with ease leaving him in his underwear which only had him crying more. I smiled and leaned into him whispering small praises while rubbing my thumb against his thigh. 

“I got you darling, it’s alright your safe.” Lone sniffled,

“I-I told you I’m not sad.” He protested.

“I know, but I want to stare into your pretty eyes.” I say, I soothed him a little longer and his tears became simple sniffles. When that happened I pulled off his boxers freeing his cock which was happily standing proud. I planted a kiss on his tip which had him bite his lip and throw his head back, poor boy is so sensitive. 

“Are you ready Sweetie?” I look up. 

“Mmhmm.” I dove onto his cock having him moaning. I swirled my tongue around the tip allowing him to feel the pleasure his sensitive cock was going through. He began moving his legs, they even started to shake. He was oh so needy, eventually when I went to pull off Lone pushed me back onto his cock by using his legs to hold me in place. I smirked and used my tongue against his slit, having him scream. 

“Y-Y/n! W-wait! I’ll. . .I’ll!” Lone’s legs moved and right before he reached his high I pulled away having a ruined orgasm that had his hips bucking, “Y/n! I-I want more, more, more, please, give me more!” He begged. I hovered over him, wiping some tears away kissing him softly as he whined. 

“It’s alright, I don’t plan on stopping, there’s no need to beg.” He sniffled, “Would you like another?” I asked, he nodded and I wrapped my hand around his cock and began pumping him slowly. I made sure to go slow so the overstimulation could work him back up, Lone was crying again and his legs were shaking. He was moaning loudly despite my actions. I kept kissing him to occupy his mouth when I realized the reason why he had so many gags, it’s because he was loud as shit. I stopped my hand and moved away Lone already looked so fucked out. 

“Would you like a gag Lone?” I ask, he shook his head trying to get me back to ruining him, “Do you mind if I use some toys?” Another shake, so I got up and found a strap that just happened to be strapped onto a large teddy bear, then there was the magic wand and nipple clamps, when I went back to Lone he was squirming. I plugged in the wand and made sure to kiss Lone while I placed a clamp on each nipple which made his whine. When I managed to calm him down from the clamps I turned on the wand placing it on his nipples. 

“F-fuck~ I-I wanna cum!” I wrapped my hand around his cock once more and Lone was whining as his tongue hung between his lips, his eyes rolled back and Lone somehow managed to take his restraints into his hands pulling on them. I smiled, I was working my magic on my soon-to-be-boss, and he was crying so helplessly, but he continued to beg for more as I was already allowing him an orgasm. 

“I-I’m coming! Y/n! I’m cumming!” I kissed Lone’s eyes, having him cum, his cum reached his chest and I turned off the wand and let go of his cock peppering kisses over his face. 

“You're doing so good Lone, You’re being such a good boy.” He was so dazed, but as he was being praised he came back and smiled like a goof, “Would you like one more orgasm?” I ask

“Pwease~~” I smiled and kissed his lips.

“Good boy,” I undressed myself leaving my body in my underwear as I strapped the strap-on to my hips, and moved to lift Lone’s hips just slightly to see a plug in his ass. I smirked and kissed him, “You really planned to have me in your bed tonight huh? You prepped and everything.” He giggled, and I pulled the plug out and replaced the plug with the strap. Lone's tears came out like a waterfall when his toy was replaced. 

“It’s alright darling boy, I got you, breathe, I promise you’ll be alright.” He was smiling as he continued to try and free himself, “Would you like to hold onto me?” I ask

“Pwease, pwease!” I kissed him softly and freed him by rubbing and kissing his now red wrists. When I began moving Lone pulled me into a kiss as tears fell I made sure this final orgasm was slow and passionate to welcome Lone back from his taxing headspace. It didn’t take long for him to cum as he came twice before. When he finished I pulled off of him and out of him, he was so sleepy after his orgasms that I took off his shirt throwing it on the floor. I then went around to gather all the used toys going to find the bathroom. When I did I began cleaning the toys in the bathroom and placed a towel on the counter to allow them to dry. I then brought a wet rag to the room cleaning all of the obvious stains and cleaning Lone himself before gathering the clothes and going to find the washing machine and putting them to wash. I returned back and took out some pj’s and dressed Lone and took a shirt to sleep in. When I finally sorted everything out I moved Lone under the covers and got under them having Lone snuggle up to my body.

[itsonlyvegas]

Tartaglia Childe Ajax

a/n it seems like i write for myself more than anything now so i thought i'd pump out something that was inspired from my own personal fanfic :) INFO - Gender Neutral Reader, Dom!Childe, slight possessiveness if u squint. **NSFW**

Tartaglia always feels like he should help you. Schoolwork, fighting, eating, sleeping—you name it, and he'll help out. So if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask him. However, he can go a bit extreme with it. If you're not careful, he might end up helping you too much…

He knows it's weird, but he just doesn't know how to stop himself from doing so. He loves you so much that he doesn't even know how to put it into words or actions. He knows that sometimes you don't like to show sparring as a love language and sometimes you just want to be left alone, but he wants to do whatever he can to make sure everything is okay between the two of you. It's funny how something as small as a request for help can make him so happy. "Ajax, can you get me (x,y,z)?" You'd ask him to get you something and his heart would flutter at the fact you're dependent on him. He's so whipped so OBVIOUSLY he'd do it for you. Need help with a university homework question? He's got you. Need help sparring against a hard boss? Yep. He'll carry you. Those bags too heavy? Leave it to him. It gets a bit wild in bed, though. While he is helpful and loving outside of the bedroom, he's even more so in there. However… don't expect a handout when it comes down to the line. From hot kisses littering your skin in a desperate attempt to stay right there with you, to hugs that seem to last forever… He's bound to try and take charge eventually. You won't regret it. The heat radiating off his body will cause you to forget about anything else. He's whipped. He'd go faster and harder if you begged - deeper if possible. His balls ache for that sweet release and his stomach churns as he hears those buttery moans slip right past your puffy lips. "Need more?" He'd ask you. He has you in a missionary position so he can see your beautiful, flushed face in all its glory. Still. He can't resist the urge to give you a little push upwards, to watch you gasp as your hips rise off the bed from his strong, large (yet boney) hands. "Yes." You'll whimper, reaching back to grab him by his thick, soft hair. You're melting under him, twitching and moaning. His voice is hoarse. He's panting. Your legs are quivering underneath him. "Fuck me harder," you beg, begging as you bite your lip. In response, Tartaglia would pull out every trick in the book to please you. He'll pound into you harder. He'll fuck you harder. He'll taste you harder. He'll kiss you harder. He'll make you moan louder than you've ever moaned before… all for his precious love. And when it all comes to a spicy halt… He'll drill down deep inside of you. He'll curl his fingers around your hip bones as he does so. You'll squirm, trying to get closer to him so you can just feel the way his muscles twitch and relax under your touch. The way he holds you tight makes it feel like you're always on that same wavelength - always in sync and never faltered. And when he cums, he always seems to have his lips or mouth on you one way or another. A breathy gasp and throaty groan on your collarbone or a long sloppy kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, you'd look up at him, your entire body glowing from head to toe. He's never seen you more beautiful than you are right in this moment. Even those expensive clothes he knows you'd like or even that new book from the publishing house in Inazuma seem dull compared to the glow of your cheeks. "I'm yours…" You whisper. "Always. Even after we part ways." he replies. "Forever." you agree, smiling softly and cuddling close to him. And fate always plays in funny ways. Staying together right here in this moment - all with sweaty limbs and warm hearts - feels like it will last a lifetime. Your careful lover will always be one with you… even if you were to part ways.

[mafuluzx]

UNRELEASED WATTPAD STORY LET'S GOOO!!!

Uhmm, so, if you guys don't follow me on Wattpad, you might not know this, but I'm releasing my scrapped male reader book right here. This is basically what was supposed to be the prologue, but it's kinda crappy and stuff now that I think about it...

So this is also a bit more different than the rest of my stories, that's also why I scrapped it. I went out of my comfort zone and whoops. Umm, yeah, the main thing of this story is just Jay's and (y/n)'s relation to each other as siblings and such, so here you go.

I've seen people put lyrics in their prologues, so I thought that it might be cool to try in this one... that's what I thought when I started writing. BUT I DON'T LIKE IT ANYMORE AND I THINK IT'S KINDA CRINGE AND GOOFY AAAAHHHH!!!

Also, this book is an old scrapped idea from the time I was still working on the idea for Over the Clouds (One of my books in Wattpad). It was either this or that, and I ended up liking the idea of Over the Cloud's waaaaaaay more.

But this is it. I'll publish the rest in separate posts, will basically be the actual thing cut in two parts.

Beautiful Liar (Scrapped)

Prologue

𝓛𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓪 

"No, no! NO! Pa! Don't take him away!"

"Don't worry, you'll meet again."

"I can help take care of him! I-I really can!"

"(y/n), calm down, Jay will be alright."

"NO, I DON'T WANT HIM TO GO!"

𝓛𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓪 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓪

"The ninja have saved us yet again! The people of Stiix were all saved by the newest addition to the ninja team, the water ninja Nya! People on the scene say..."

"How worthless... Look at how things have turned out. He's got a a big loving family and many things he enjoys doing. He has no need for me anymore. He's part of a ninja team as well, that must be fun. And how he can be so awfully honest on tv makes me smile. I could never."

꧁༒"𝓞𝓻 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓻~" ༒꧂

"And, drum roll... YES! WE DID IT AGAIN!" A shout of celebration rang from the phone I was holding.

"Another million views overnight. The music video seems to be to the fans' liking." A second voice spoke.

"Yeah..." (y/n)  said as well. The others were celebrating, so he should as well. He put on a small smile as he looked at the letter he had finished writing. He was gonna send it soon.

"Oh, (y/n), You don't sound so excited." A third voice spoke

"How could he? Cliff Gordon just...We're sorry (y/n)." Yet another voice said as (y/n) shook his head.

"No, it's really alright." 

"...If you say so. The manager said you should take a break though, the paparazzi are sure to take advantage of this."

"Alright! Tell the manager to keep in touch." (y/n) said as

"Sure, take it easy, (y/n)."  "Bye, bye!" The sixth and fifth voices called before (y/n) put his phone down. He let out a sigh as he stopped leaning on the wall, and set his phone down. Taking a sip from his water bottle, he pressed play on one his band's own songs.

"five, six, seven, eight..." He counted quietly as he started moving in the middle of the room. He stared at himself from the mirrors covering the walls, his eyes sometimes skimming past the posters of a ninja dressed in blue. (y/n) scoffed at himself, his form was off. At some point he stopped counting his steps, and instead mouthed the words of the song.

Knock, knock, knock...

(y/n) stopped for a second,thinking he had heard something, but when no other sound came, he continued.

Ding dong...

This time (y/n) paused the music. The room went awfully quiet, but still no sound came. (y/n) extended his arms towards the play button again, but before he could touch it:

DING DONG, DING DONG, DING DONG...!

The sound of the doorbell continued as (y/n) rushed out of the room. Only once he stepped onto the carpet set in front of the front doors did the ringing stop. (y/n) twisted the lock before opening the door slightly, as his eyes opened wide.

(y/n) opened the door fully as a boy with fluffy brown hair stood in front of the door with a smile. (y/n) saw a couple of people the same age as the boy far behind him, seeming to have run after him. The boy smiled widely before jumping and hugging (y/n) tightly.

"I'm here, brother. I'm home!" (y/n) felt a sense of déjà vu, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why that was. As Jay hugged (y/n) tighter, (y/n)'s eyes started to water. He felt as if Jay had said those words before, but he couldn't possibly have. 

"...Welcome home." The other ninja finally caught up to Jay, and stopped to stare silently at the present situation. The ninja stared with confusion on their faces, except for the water ninja. Finally, (y/n) hugged back, and started sobbing.

[rallamajoop]

Hi! I was reading up your meta and I saw you mention you'll talk about "did Dracula feed on Jonathan?" but I can't find it! Has it been posted? Thank you!

Ah, yeah ‒ I did promise that back in my How Gay was Bram Stoker? post, but you can file that one under the general category of "stuff I totally meant to write, but then never got around to." But what the hell: let's do this!

Ahem.

Did Dracula ever feed on Jonathan?

The short answer, based on what Jonathan overhears Dracula saying to his wives in a short passage everyone following Dracula Daily would have read on June 29, is: yes, and perhaps even, well, obviously?

"Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!" There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away. [emphasis mine]

In other words: the brides get to feed on Jonathan tomorrow. It’s Dracula’s turn tonight. If the dialogue doesn’t make this clear enough, the ‘three terrible women licking their lips’ is pretty unambiguous. And we know Dracula did feed that night, because the morning after, Jonathan finds him asleep in his coffin, looking suddenly much younger, with blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Jonathan never puts together that it was himself Dracula fed on (or at least never mentions it in his diary) – but then, Lucy and Mina never had any idea they’d been fed on either. So the implications remain technically subtext, but there for anyone paying attention.

Except there’s another version of that paragraph quoted above. The Dracula Daily text is evidently drawing from the American version of Dracula, published in 1899 (and pictured above). The original UK publication came out two years previously, and there, Dracula’s speech is oh-so-significantly different.  

"Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! To-morrow night, to-morrow night is yours!" [emphasis again mine]

‘To-night is mine!’ never appeared in Dracula’s original publication, and any subtext that Dracula may have fed on Jonathan is that much subtler without it. Stranger still, this seems to be the only notable difference between the two versions of Dracula: Stoker certainly hasn’t made significant rewrites, nor is there any other evidence some US editor had it sloppily transcribed. So was this change Stoker’s? Was it a deliberate change at all, or just an accident of editing?

Now, I want ‘To-night is mine!’ to be the definitive version – not just because I’m always here for slashy vampire shenanigans, but because it makes so much more sense. Why force the brides to wait for tomorrow, if not so Dracula could have first dibs? For which matter, why keep Jonathan alive and (physically) unharmed in the castle for so long at all, if not as Dracula’s convenient, pre-journey snack? It even ties right back to Jonathan’s first encounter with the brides, and Dracula’s iconic line, This man belongs to me!

It’s admittedly a little questionable that Jonathan himself never acknowledges such definitive evidence Dracula has fed on him (in either version) – but then, panic and denial can do a number on the faculties of a man far faster on the uptake than our dear Jonathan. ‘Tonight is mine, tomorrow is yours!’ doesn’t just read better, it all adds up.

Before I get too bogged down in conspiracy-theories though, I’d like to share one suspiciously similar bit of trivia from the first (authorised) Dracula film adaptation, the Universal picture from 1932. Here, it’s nominally Renfield rather than Jonathan who goes to the castle, and the ‘brides’ have only two scenes and no dialogue, but the climax of the castle section still plays some familiar notes. Drugged at dinner, our Jonathan/Renfield amalgam collapses, and we watch the brides advance on him with clear intent – only for Dracula to sweep in, turn them aside, and lean down over our hapless hero himself.

But this wasn’t supposed to be the version that made it to screen. Supposedly, studio execs had insisted that it would be the women who fall upon their victim, not Dracula himself – and that’s what was in the shooting script. In fact, you can see this version shot as intended in the Spanish-language version of the film (shot at night with a whole second cast and crew, using the same sets and script). But the director for the English-version, Tod Browning, had the sense to ignore the official mandate and let the film's titular villain be the one to bite Renfield. He’s the real threat – he’s the one who Renfield will spend the rest of the film obsessed with. Why undercut that in your very first act?

The answer, of course, is the dreaded h-word: homoeroticism. A vampire bite is far too sexy to be allowed to happen between two men. The boundaries on that one fascinate me a little: neither the novel nor any film adaptation has ever balked at vampire!Lucy preying on children or the brides eating a literal baby because they’re seeing paedophilic overtones all of a sudden. These are horrifying acts, certainly, but here we take them at face value.

By and large though, Dracula is not the text you want to come at with the ‘rational’ notion that there’s nothing inherently sexy about a vampire bite: this is a book where even mundane, life-preserving blood-transfusions have become a very significant metaphor by the time of Lucy’s death. And who goes to a Dracula movie wanting to see Dracula biting men? (Yes, yes, I know. Please form an orderly queue to the left.)

My point in all this is that it’s not like we don’t know that nervous producers are perfectly willing to cut some corners off the integrity of their own product for fear of getting The Gay in their good, wholesome, gothic vampire film. And if producers from the 1930’s could do it… why not publishers from the 1890’s?

This is why it’s so hard not to find layers of meaning in that critical little addition of To-night is mine! Was there some earlier draft of Stoker’s manuscript (much like whichever theoretical earlier draft of the screenplay those execs had objected to) which contained that line? Was it Stoker himself who got nervous, and cut it from the British manuscript before publication? Keep in mind, this was only a couple of years after the Oscar Wilde trial, an incident which brought homosexuality under more scrutiny than it had suffered in an age. Stoker was already a known Wilde-associate, who’d take chances in that environment?

Or was it his publishers who made the change? Anything's possible. Either way, how the ‘original’ version found its way back into the US version is still in question: maybe Stoker found his nerve again, or maybe he just accidentally included a page from the wrong draft ‒ but it's easy to miss these things when the result is an ocean away. Don’t tell me it doesn't sound plausible!

Alas, I am guilty of building this one up mostly just to knock it down again: what little real evidence we have all points the other way. When Stoker re-edited a (slightly) abridged version of Dracula in 1901 (two years after the American one), the original ‘Tomorrow, tomorrow!’ line is dutifully reproduced. When he threw together a stage version (very rough, and which would be “performed” exactly once for copyright reasons alone), there was no ‘To-night is mine!’ in that one either. And the single, surviving full-but-unfinished draft of Dracula that anyone has ever found contained the 'To-morrow' version too. There are some fascinating differences between that one draft and either published version and I could talk about it all day – but if Very Rough Draft Outlines of Dracula is to be believed, then ‘Tomorrow, tomorrow’ was part of the novel long before it reached publication. There’s nothing about this scene in any of Stoker’s earlier very-rough-draft-outlines for Dracula either.

All that said, I still want ‘To-night is mine!’ to have been Stoker’s original plan for that scene. It just works so much better on so many levels!

It also adds rather fascinating little wrinkle to another favourite Dracula-debate topic of mine: does anyone bitten by a vampire become one, or do you have to drink that vampire’s blood in turn?

In these modern, rational times (filled with tales of complex, even sympathetic vampires), we’re much more comfortable with the vampire's-blood version. It just doesn’t track that everyone bitten by a vampire becomes one ‒ not without one vampire turning into a major zombie outbreak within a matter of weeks. And it's so widespread now that few realise the idea didn’t even exist before Dracula. Traditional vampire folklore has a thousand variations and as many different ways someone can join the undead (including being bitten by one), but drinking vampire blood is one I have never found a remotely credible source for. If anything, drinking a vampire’s blood often works to protect you from that vampire (smearing it on your body or eating some of the grave soil may also do the trick).

And even in Dracula, debate remains as to why Dracula forces Mina to drink his blood. Many assert that the true point is to create the psychic connection he uses to spy on her friends later (and his own dialogue in that scene could certainly be taken that way). Meanwhile, Van Helsing does say that anyone bitten can become a vampire. He doesn’t seem at all concerned this will happen to the children Lucy has fed on, but then, destroying the parent vampire before the potential vampires have turned is exactly how Mina is saved too. Whether or not you buy it, it still holds together.

The one-bite version is an interpretation you can still see in lots of post-Dracula media too. Hammer’s Dracula films of the 50s-70s, for example, certainly seem to think that being bitten is plenty (how long the transformation takes post-bite is… less consistent). Not until after Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire comes out in the 1970’s does the idea that you need to drink the vampire’s blood in turn really seem to start taking hold.

But it’s not as though no-one reading Stoker’s novel ever came away with the idea that he'd added a new element to the process of becoming a vampire. Universal’s 1931 film doesn’t even show the iconic blood-drinking scene, leaving Mina simply to recount those events in dialogue after the fact – but Dracula spells out his own purpose to Van Helsing very clearly: "You are too late. My blood now flows through her veins. She will live through the centuries to come...as I have lived."

In fact, there’s an even earlier script from 1927, from a failed attempt to create a new stage version commissioned by Stoker’s own widow, that takes the same angle: “Come, drink of my blood, that you may become even as I.” (Thank you to Skal's Hollywood Gothic for that interesting tidbit!) It’s unlikely that honouring her late-husband’s artistic intent was foremost in Widow Florence's concerns (far more about securing a higher cut of the profits than she was getting from the existing stage versions), but the fact Mrs. Stoker herself was down with that interpretation isn’t nothing.

Looping all the way back to the original point, though, if Jonathan really was supposed to have been bitten by Dracula way back in the early chapters of the novel, then we can pretty much throw the one-bite theory out the window. It doesn’t neaten everything up: we’ve still got the weird implication that Lucy could have been saved by enough blood-transfusions, whereas Mina slowly deteriorates over the journey back to the castle and only Dracula’s death will save her, and so on – because as much as I love this novel, Stoker’s vampire mythology is an inconsistent mess with more holes in it than a parade of slowly-turning vampire victims (and it really is such a tribute to the overall atmosphere that it still draws you in, and can even keep you from noticing the inconsistencies). But damn, could one little bite-mark on Jonathan’s neck recontextualise so much of the rest of the story.

Tl;dr: I will never know for sure whether Stoker’s original plans for Dracula involved Jonathan being bitten by the titular vampire himself, or how that one line came to differ between the UK and US publications. But I really want the US version to be the ‘true’ one. And maybe now you do too.

(Photos of Dracula & Jonathan come from Michael Pink's ballet adaptation of Dracula ‒ the slashiest ballet version I've seen and my second-favourite overall, because I am entirely the kind of Dracula-nerd with a second-favourite ballet version, what can I tell you.)

[catzz-z]

He is so babygirl

(This is smut so be warned) female aligned & she/her & she/they do not interact <3

Before I start this I would like to preface this by saying that this is my first time publishing my work also that I’ve never played COD never. I just saw ghost as an attractive male and I’m rolling off of that so if anything seems ooc for him don’t mind it or if anything seems wrong in general don’t mind it I’ll do my own research later

for any administrators, employers, friends or family this writing has been made for joking reasons and is not in any way shape or form real.

Btw the word backstage in this story means the lap dance rooms backstage is just easier to type

To say i was having a shitty day was an understatement. First things first the idiots back at the base never thought to inform me that me and ghost would be the only ones at base. Secondly i’ve just caught word that me and ghost were to go on a mission where i’d have to be wearing lingerie. Thirdly i have a massive crush on ghost so being alone with him while going on some stupid mission while wearing lingerie and having to hear his stupid voice on the intercom with his cheesy jokes. This was going to be hell for you. once i got the information of the mission i tried not to think about how I’d have to be the one to lure the enemy backstage and then have ghost strike. I felt embarrassed about being all alone with ghost and even more embarrassed that ghost had to be the one to tell me about the mission imagining how awkward ghost felt having to tell me that I’d have to be the one to lure the enemy backstage made shivers run up my spine. But i digress no point in moping about it may as well start getting ready. I think to myself

Time: 12:20 a.m.

Ghost knocked on my door asking if you were ready yet “yeah just give me a second” i felt like my body was going to explode obviously I couldn’t step out in lingerie so i have to pack it up, put on my uniform which meant i’d have to change in the helicopter i know that this mission is going to be the death of me i step out of my kind of a room and go join ghost on the helicopter i watch the clock tick by knowing that eventually i’d have to change into the god awful outfit (just choose any type of lingerie you want) unfortunately the time rolled around for me to change while ghost was doing whatever he does i quickly change and start to prepare for landing when ghost finally reappeared he looked surprised to say the least he cleared his throat and spoke “We are about to land get ready and remember you just have to lure the enemy backstage and then we can go back to base.” I nod

Once we arrived at the place ghost said that he was waiting backstage for me and that he forget something important to tell me I’m kind of skeptical since ever since i’ve joined the team i’ve never seen ghost forget something but whatever i tried to walk backstage quietly but unfortunately the outfit you were wearing made me draw a bit of attention to myself i arrive backstage to find ghost sitting down something felt predatory about his gaze on me “so… what did you forget” he spoke “forget to tell you there never was any mission” i was shocked to say the least “what do you mean there is no mission?! Then why am I dressed up in this outfit?!” Ghost chuckled darkly “I think you know why y/n come on use that pretty litte head of yours and think”. All the sudden everything made sense why he informed me on a mission last minute why he was the one to hand me the lingerie why he brought me back stage for some “information” “i uh don’t know what to say” ghost walked up to you “ before anything escalates i need to know if you want to continue” “ well I mean yes i do want to continue its just that.. you’re my first..” ghost chuckled “ don’t worry I’ll try to go easy on you”

he picked me up and pinned me down on the couch kissing me as he started to take off his gear once he undressed he started to kiss my neck trying to find my sweet spot when all the sudden i let out a squeak ghost laughed “look at you getting all worked up over a small hickey so needy for me” i let out a small whimper “p-please continue i need you” ghost continued kissing down my neck and stopped near stomach i whined “please ghost just fuck me” ghost chuckled “ be patient i need to get you prepped first love” i blushed at the new nickname he‘s given me hoping he wouldn’t notice but unfortunately for me he did “ what’s this? You look much more worked up now how adorable getting hard over me calling you love” i let out a cry “please just do what you need to do” ghost turned around and took off my lingerie my cock sprung out leaking with pre-cum ghost brought out lube and started to smear some on his hand slowly he inserted a digit it felt weird at first but slowly I got used to then he inserted another digit and another until he was three fingers in me thrusting in and out I couldn’t handle it anymore I bucked up my hips for more and started to moan “p-please ghost just fuck me” ghost chuckled “well then don’t come crying when it becomes to much”

ghost pulled out his cock and slowly inserted himself into me i let out an embarrassing loud moan when he hit something inside of me ghost laughed and said “what have I already hit your sweet spot? We haven’t even begun yet” i moaned ghost finally put all of himself inside of me and I felt so full he pulled back out and slammed himself inside of me he used one of his hands to start getting me off i couldn’t take it anymore “g-ghost please slow mh~ down I’m going to cum” ghost chuckled “go on cum on my fingers be a good boy for me” i moaned and for a second I felt pure bliss until ghost continued thirsting into me and continued stroking me i let out a moan “ghost please I’m to sensitive I’m going to cum hngh~ again” ghost only chuckled darkly as he continued thrusting into me and stroking me i felt my second orgasm coming on and whimpered “h~ngh ghost I’m gonna cum please” i didn’t even know what I was saying at this point all that came out was gibberish ghost spoke “go ahead love let’s cum together” i couldn’t process anything anymore I just knew that ghost was making me feel good all the sudden the knot in my stomach had finally snapped and I came after coming down from my high I felt ghost speed up his pace “ Jesus love i didn’t know you could get any tighter” ghost continued thrusting into me quickly losing his rhythm and finally he came inside of me

while we were both panting like dogs ghost brought up his hand to my cock once again “i know you can cum one more time right? Just one more for me love” i moaned he started stroking me again and I kept on letting out embarrassing noises “that’s it love keep on making those beautiful noises for me” i couldn’t take it anymore the way he spoke such sweet words to me how he was looking at me with his eyes i couldn’t anymore I finally came ghost picked me up and he started to clean me up “can you still walk love we need to get back to base” i tried to stand back up but ultimately fell down ghost laughed “alright I’ll carry you back to base” i couldn’t bother to keep my eyes open for any longer and dozed off…

When I awoke ghost was right next to me i felt so safe with him and he looked so peaceful like this he opened his eyes “sorry love how long have you been waiting for me to wake up” “i didn’t wait long i also just woke up” “ghost what are we?” “ I’m yours y/n and if you will I’d like you to be mine” “ of course i would ghost”

The end

Omg this was my first ever fic so tell me if I messed up or something i don’t plan to upload this whole idea came to me in a dream if I’m being honest but thank you for ready and hope you have a nice day/night/evening

[marbled-polecat]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @cacodaemonia I think I've done this one too, but some things have changed because I've written more. :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 97 works posted on ao3. About 15 of them are fics and the rest are art, ficlets, drabbles, or combinations.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

My total count is 257,934 with nearly 100k for this year already!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars, mostly The Clone Wars, but also The Bad Batch, SW Legends, and combinations.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the longest klick (TBB, Mayday&/Crosshair)

say you feel the same way too (TCW, Echo/Fives)

cabin fever (Star Wars, Cody/Obi-Wan)

codpiece chaos (TCW, Echo/Fives)

nearly a skywalker (TCW, Gen, lots of Rex!)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes it just takes me a while.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm, I tend to not write fics that end angsty. I usually like to have my angst with a happy ending. I honestly can't think of any... *shurg*

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ummm, most of them???Maybe the longest klick because Mayday deserves so much better? I mean, they all do, but he just pulls at my heart strings so heavily.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No yet! *crosses fingers*

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Heh, heh, heh, I doooo! It's mostly clone/clone and I give them a hard time *snickering*, but I did write Ahsoka and an OC, a while back. I've never posted it and I'm not sure I ever will. I've got to get everything else out of my hear first.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Other than within Star Wars? Nope, not yet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

*knocks on wood again* Not yet!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but that would be really cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have and it was a hoot to write. <3

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Probably Echo/Fives, but Codywan was my gateway drug to tcw. I think Finn/Poe was the first Star Wars ship though.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Want to finish? Uhhh, all of them, but the 'want to finish' and the 'probably never will' are two separate piles.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not my wrists. XP Ummm, I really like to do research and try to make Star Wars things seem more plausible. Is that a strength? *shrug*

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing in the wrong tense for paragraphs or even pages without realizing it. Typing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I like to write bits and pieces of Mando'a and other Star Wars languages (some I make up), but unless I have the other person confused and then the whole thing translated, I feel like it's harder to read.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Pacific Rim (never published) ... although, now that I think about it, I could just post it anonymously? *thinky face*

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

A toss up between the longest klick and in the wake of darkness

Tagging!

No pressure tagging for @seascribbling @flowerparrish @frostbitebakery @insertmeaningfulusername @spiritofthenortheners and anyone else who wants to take a crack it it.

The template is under the cut.

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

[scarlettsabetlondongirl]

GQ magazine

By Jimmy Page and Scarlett Sabet

22 January 2021

Scarlett Sabet: So, a year since Catalyst, what are your thoughts?

Jimmy Page: Well, my thoughts on Catalyst being a living entity a year on: I’m really pleased that we did it and relieved that we did a project that I had in my mind. I had it in my head, at various stages, the characters of the poems. To arrive where we arrived, with something that was really avant-garde, that had not been done before, was really thrilling. It was a “catalyst”, but also a milestone that others hadn’t got to yet.

SS: I think that’s it. You were so passionate and fired up about it and your vision was so clear and distinct, so although before we did it I couldn’t fully comprehend it, I never questioned what you wanted to do. During the recording and production of the album I trusted what you were doing implicitly. We created a new language. Each poem on the album was an important landmark. With the exception of “Rocking Underground”, which I wrote in 2012, you were the first person to hear all the other poems.

JP: Yes, yes, that’s a good point. I was the first person to hear all of those poems. But I also had the pleasure to hear you read on numerous occasions, in a variety of circumstances as well. So I got to feel these poems and to recognise the character of each one and certain cadences you would employ during your readings. I don’t think you ever read one poem exactly the same, because you were breathing new life into it every night. All these things were registering with me. What I didn’t want to do was what people assumed it would be: poems with music behind it. Well, that’s what everyone would think. And I certainly didn’t want to think in the normal sort of way. I wanted to think of it in another way altogether. Let’s do what I know is right and that you know is right, so I presented you with something that, yes, will be musical, it will sound orchestral, but it’s all done with the human voice. And that’s where we arrived at the territory of things that hadn’t been done before.

SS: Yes, that’s really well said.

JP: “Rocking Underground”, I heard you read that at your first poetry reading at World’s End Bookshop in Chelsea and that really got to me. I thought, “Wow, she’s really living this,” and not only that, but that’s a really fine poem. It was a narrative and really interesting. From that point on, having seen your writing and your publications, I thought it was really great you self-published so you didn’t have other people getting in the way of it.

SS: Well, that was thanks to you. I took your advice to self-publish.

JP: “Rocking Underground” was the first poem. I got you to record it on an old Sony cassette player and once you’d done a performance you were happy with, then I got you to track it. Now, this is where the unexplained comes into the equations. I’d used the cassette before, but on this occasion, it played back with this noisy, metallic sound, like an announcement on an underground tube, and, of course, it was written on a train.

SS: Yes, it was written on the Tube in London and I think there is a misnomer that “Rocking” in the title is a reference to rock music. It isn’t. The word “Existing” could replace “Rocking” in the title and the meaning would be the same.

JP: Yes, I’m pleased you said that. And what was played back on the cassette gave an atmosphere that gave an identity to the piece, almost like an invocation. I wanted you to double track it. I knew you’d be able to do that. So there was a metallic-sounding voice, then a more natural sounding voice on top. So that was a great start and you could see that my ideas were a bit wacky. Interestingly enough, when Catalyst was released Phil Alexander played “Rocking Underground” on his Kerrang! Radio show and then he played a Led Zeppelin song afterwards and I thought that was really cool.

SS: It was “Dazed And Confused”.

JP: Well, that’s even better, because that’s the more avant-garde side of what I’ve managed to create in the past, something akin.

SS: You really captured the atmosphere of that and, on a personal note, it was the first poem you saw me read at my first ever poetry reading, so in that way it was a landmark. Also, when I wrote it it was unusual compared to what I had previously written, so that poem was the beginning and you were at the beginning with me, in a way. “Rocking Underground” was also the title of my first book, which I self-published on your advice, to keep creative control. So I think we both knew this poem was going to be opening this album.

JP: The other poem I knew I wanted to try with you was "The Fifth Circle Of Hell”. Every time I witnessed you read that poem, there was such a response, people holding their breath and then a spontaneous applause. I knew how strong it was. So for the recording of it, rather than putting too many textures on it, because of the vocal performance and what was being said and what was being covered in it, I wanted a more locked-in double tracking, not just the power of one voice saying this, but two voices riding all the way through, to make the message even stronger. And you felt at home with these experimental techniques.

SS: I remember so clearly writing it. It had been forming in my mind and then it all came out in one sitting.

JP: Yeah, you did do it in one afternoon. You were channelling, like it was inside you and it had to come out and it did come out. The first time you read it to me I was really impressed, I’ve got to say.

SS: I was really excited to read it to you, because it was so different and really long and it was the narrative of what I wanted to say and I caught it in this rhythm. You were in a meeting in another part of the house and I remember once you had finished saying, “I think I’ve written something.” It was a creative landmark for me.

"To arrive where we arrived, with something that was really avant-garde, that had not been done before, was really thrilling. It was a “catalyst”, but also a milestone that others hadn’t got to yet."

JP: The thing is, it’s as relevant now as it was then.

SS: The tone of the poem on Catalyst is very aggressive. It’s almost demonic.

JP: Yes, it is. It takes on a different character from how you read it. “Cut Up” was the third track we recorded and you came out with a way of reading it that I had never heard before.

SS: I realised that I needed to adapt the performance for the format: we were making a record. It wasn’t a live poetry reading, where that poem becomes very impassioned.

JP: It was a totally different pacing and it was incredible, the whole hypnotic, mantric quality to it, and as you were doing it I knew I wanted to use an effect that I had used way back in the days of Led Zeppelin.

SS: On which track?

JP: Well, I did it on “You Shook Me”, which is at the end of the first album. You can hear it, but I used it differently on Catalyst. With “Cut Up”, I wanted it to be there, faintly in the background, and it to be an entity to creep in and become more and more audible as things go on, until at the end it builds and it’s almost like a conflict. Again, I knew this hadn’t been done before with spoken word.

SS: That had started as a super-long draft of a poem, written by hand, and it got to the point it was almost 20 pages. I couldn’t really stand it and felt I wanted to do something radical, destroy and dismantle what I had written, then rebuild it. So I remember I cut it up with scissors and because there was rhythm in the pre-existing phrases, the rhythm remained and it incorporated its own dark rhythm as well.

JP: It was remarkable and you were really on fire at this point. But this is how it was in the studio between the two of us, sparking off ideas.

SS: The actual recording was amazing and we were lucky to do it at home, being so comfortable, literally at home, and being with you: the trust between us, it made me brave. I wanted to meet you in that moment.

JP: And we did that. We arrived at that. To hear you do it in a different vein and rate and tempo, it was inspiring for me to come up with ideas. It was powerful.

SS: The first tracks are intense and really confront the listener and then “Euphoric Kiss” comes in and in the version on the album you can hear me laugh at the beginning. It was May when we recorded it, so after a long British winter, everything was coming alive again and I was filled with the joy of creating this piece of work together and it’s a poem I wrote as I was falling in love with you. It’s a love poem, but defiant, and a code between us and it felt joyous to record it.

JP: Yeah, that was beautiful. This was one of the tracks where the poem alone would speak volumes. It needed just the naked honesty of it.

SS: Yes. When I'd perform that poem live, sometimes I'd improvise parts of it. The audience wouldn't know, necessarily, but you would.

JP: I think improvisation is the key to live performance, the people that know your work can see that you're not content to just go through the motions, that you're really hitting it every night in such a way that you're creating and changing the inflections of the poem, the song, whatever it is. Certainly within your poetry I could see you were capable of doing this and moulding things as you were performing them.

SS: You've created these phenomenal, electrifying live performances throughout your life. Are there some that stand out more distinctly to you, especially in terms of live performances, whether it be in a huge stadium or smaller venues or a studio?

JP: On occasion I've reviewed some work I've done in my own environment, from the home studio I had in the 1970s, where I had the facility to multitrack and layer guitars and other instruments as well. Whatever fires that off is the initial inspiration to create a piece. I'm sure it's the same as writing a poem. You get the inspiration for it and you build it and it takes shape.

SS: Yeah.

JP: And it's not necessarily a really long process. It's something that's really coming out. So under the circumstances of a live situation, I've heard versions of “Dazed And Confused”, for example, four nights a row on tour and I was surprised just how much improvisation there was each night, which I didn't repeat on any other night. To hear them decades later and hear what the mindset was... It was just allowing things to come through. They're unreleased.

SS: Do you have specific memories of when you've walked off stage after a performance or improvisation and just known, "Wow. That one was really..."

JP: Well, I particularly went on stage to do that sort of thing, so even though there was a set list, just walking up the steps to go on stage I knew what the numbers were going to be and I knew that there were little signs for the improvising sections that meant to the other, "Right this is going to change gear," and it was going to be something new, so they were just going to have to pay attention to these signs that would occur. So these whole passages would come out and then I would change it again into another one and that's really living by the seat of your pants, but I really enjoyed doing it and fortunately I was able to. I've really built my whole reputation on improvisation and spontaneous music. I can appreciate it in somebody else, certainly you. I could see you were breathing new life into poems every night.

SS: “Possession” was very intimate. I also adapted the performance of that piece. I wanted it to be intimate and it’s sensual and spiritual. I guess that’s why it’s just presented as it’s recorded.

JP: Yes. Then it goes into “And My Lungs Fill Ecstatic Song”.

SS: Oh, yes! Well, that was written when I was walking by the River Thames in Sonning. I was inspired by the landscape. I wrote some notes. It wasn’t until we went away that December that I started experimenting with those lines and cut them up, rearranged the structure. In that poem I also wanted to evoke almost the muscle memory of writing the poem, the feeling in my legs and the adrenaline, trying to capture it in lines. In poetry readings, I accelerate in the last verse, but in the production of this track you really accomplished what I wanted to convey. But we didn’t even have a conversation about it. You just knew and you did.

JP: Given the way you read this, it felt quite mantric and, as you say, there’s a pacing to it. I definitely wanted to bring all of that out, and make it quite orchestral in the way that it starts and develops and really pulsates. It has such a dynamic to it. And this is really what I meant when I said the album wouldn’t be with instruments, but it will sound orchestral and going into areas no one has done before.

SS: Ah, and then the next is “For Jack”, which is a love poem or eulogy for Jack Kerouac. I started writing it in the months leading up to The Town And The City Festival in Lowell, Massachusetts, which is Kerouac’s birthplace and where he is buried. So the poem’s inaugural reading was in Kerouac’s birthplace. I’m so moved by his work. He was so sensitive and spiritual. He tapped into something in the zeitgeist, expressed it in this new freeform way and he got huge praise and ridicule for it and he bore the brunt of both. He’s always affected me and I wanted to try to capture him. The word “You” is the opening of each line, addressing Kerouac directly. When I read it at City Lights, Peter Marvelis said that I had really captured [Kerouac] and what had happened to him. I think we knew we had to include this poem as part of Catalyst, because this album is kind of in the spirit of the beat writers.

JP: There was this whole movement going on in the 1950s and 1960s in literature and in music.

SS: What was the first poem that stood out to you as a young person ? I remember at primary school age, under ten, I remember Robert Louis Stevenson poems and then, after that, when I was older, WB Yeats and Coleridge. Then I discovered Bob Dylan, then Allen Ginsberg then Kerouac.

JP: Yes, I was introduced to poetry when I was at school and I realised reading poetry in the class room, en masse, that it went into another dimension and then I appreciated the metre of it, the construction. I was quite taken with the Victorian Romantic poets, Byron, Keats, Shelley. When I was in my mid-teens, I paid a lot of attention to Christopher Logue. He released an EP called Red Bird in 1959. I absolutely adored it. I adored what they were doing. It was actually jazz, with Logue reading his poems, but it wasn't freeform, it was really constructed and really exciting.

SS: I remember when you played me that.

JP: I was really impressed with the way that he read his poems, sometimes really fast and other times in a melancholic way. It meant a lot to me when I heard it. I took it in, because it was someone who had done something new and not only that it was absolutely amazing and not many people knew of it. And, of course, Christopher Logue performed at the International Poetry Incarnation in 1965 at the Royal Albert Hall.

SS: You were there that night.

JP: I was there. Allen Ginsburg performed that night with some of the other San Francisco beat poets. I had come across “Howl” and read it and when many people read that poem it changed their life and I was one of them.

SS: Same.

JP: Burroughs and Gysin experimented with cutup and I know they had done work at the BBC, literally cutting up analogue tapes and putting them together. That’s something I considered to be really moving things in a different direction from what they had been before. That was exactly how I thought about music. And at the same time, you had Krzysztof Penderecki, his ode to Threnody, to the victims of Hiroshima. That texture of the orchestra had such an effect on me, all through my work, in Led Zeppelin and what I was trying to do with the bow and sonic waves and my ideas for what we did on Catalyst. I also liked The New Music – a later album of Penderecki. Also during that time in the late 1950s early 1960s, I discovered electronic music records by John Cage, Luciano Berio, Ilhan Mimaroglu. It all had such an effect, these textures. And what they were doing in musique concrète is what I feel we were doing with Catalyst, an extension of that. The whole adventure of Catalyst was done over a few days and I’m really thrilled we did it in such a compact amount of time. We spent exactly the right time on each thing, nothing was laboured. It was all so enthusiastic and inspirational.

SS: Yes, it really was. We knew where we were coming from with this project and your passion for it was like a suit of armour. I’m so proud of what we created. I always want to do something experimental and the one thing I’ve always tried to do is keep challenging myself, push myself creatively, not keep doing the same thing over and over again. To stay “alive” and connected as an artist I think it’s important to keep being brave and do different things.

JP: Yes, that’s absolutely the way to go about one’s work.

SS: You’ve never played it safe and gone down the commercial route.

JP: I think it’s more satisfying to throw down the gauntlet to yourself, take on the challenge and then come out with something where you’ve really pushed yourself. To actually do something unique and new. Les Paul said to me, “You know what you can do? Same picture, different frame.” So you never lose the main part of your character, that’s recognised, but you adjust the framing of the picture.

SS: Wow. You’ve definitely done that.

[literaticat]

I have a question about career building.

I see a lot of places that it is very rare for an author to earn out their advance. So for debut authors, if they get - say 50k for book one, but they don't get that in sales, what happens? Are they able to sell a book two? If so, is it just a series of diminishing returns until they manage to get a following?

A lot of the things I see online about sophomore novels is that they are far harder to write, but I'm curious also about how the rest of that takes shape. Like, does there come a point where no publisher will ever pick them up again because their last book didn't sell well?

How does an author manage that?

Let's see if I can unpack this a little and reassure you!

First, while it's true that lots of books don't earn out their advances -- I don't know if I'd say MOST. Many DO earn out eventually, or at least come relatively close. More importantly, though: the publisher makes their investment back before the advance earns out, so a book doesn't actually need to earn out the advance to be profitable to the publisher.

Publishers know this, of course, and they also know that it often takes a bit of time for an author to find and grow their audience. So if a publisher wants to keep working with an author, they think the author has great ideas and talent, etc -- they will often offer for more books even if the first book hasn't necessarily gone gangbusters, or indeed, even if the first book isn't out yet. (This is also why they might make a two-book-deal from the jump -- because they KNOW that the first book is just the beginning, and it takes time, and they hope to be along for the ride as the author's fan base grows, etc).

So, usually the publisher is OK with taking a chance on you, assuming that sales will get better, yada yada. And if the unfortunate happens and the book performs REALLY poorly, so much so that the math just isn't mathing and they decide they do NOT want to pursue more books with you, well, there are other publishers, and those publishers don't know the details about the finances of your first deal -- if they love the book, they will be basing their numbers on how they think THEY will do selling this new book, not on the first publisher's numbers.

(This is especially true if you can pivot a bit -- ie, the book you are trying to sell to the new publisher is somewhat different than the first book(s) -- so like, let's say your first deal was for YA contemporary, it kinda tanked, you don't really want to work with Publisher A anymore or they have declined to do more with you -- but now you've written a high concept YA thriller -- Publisher B may say, yes, we see that you have this other book that just did meh, BUT, we think THIS book in this different genre will be a BREAKOUT for you!)

As far as "sophomore novels being harder to write" -- well, I think that people experience that for a couple of reasons. When they wrote their first book (or at least, the first book that got published -- maybe they wrote a bunch of books BEFORE that that never got published!) -- but anyway, the first time around, they were writing with no expectations. They didn't have an editor to "impress" yet, they didn't have a contract hanging over their head, they didn't know what the editorial process would be like, they didn't have a deadline, they didn't know what it was like to get their book publicly reviewed, they didn't have people asking them about their book/characters on social media, they didn't have any pressure about sales or marketing or whatever eating up their minds, their free time wasn't taken up with self-promotion, etc etc.

Then they got all those things. That's a lot of pressure they are feeling all of a sudden that they never had before! Little wonder it would seem more difficult. (Is it ACTUALLY "more difficult" in a literal way? Maybe not, but if it FEELS more difficult... then it kinda is, right?)

My friend, the brilliant writer Sara Zarr, told me a great piece of advice long long LONG ago (so long ago she probably doesn't remember this, but I have never forgotten!) -- she said something to the effect of, while you are on submission, and in the eons of "down time" between when your first book sells and when the editing and production process really ramps up, you should do your best to write at least the draft of the next book. Work on it absolutely whenever you can. WHY? Because when and after your debut comes out, your brain will be broken and you will have WAY less time than you anticipate. At least if you have a solid draft of the next thing, you have something to work with, rather than starting from square one with no time, lots of pressure and a broken brain!

My point is, authors obviously DO make it work all the time, and I have faith that you can as well. When the time comes, just remember, work on your next book whenever you have downtime, be flexible and able to pivot if necessary, and strategize with your agent, they have seen it all before and they are there to help!

[tryan-a-bex]

Writing patterns meme

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

From this post by @dancinbutterfly https://www.tumblr.com/dancinbutterfly/735744268412534784?source=share

I'll mull about patterns here because I put the last two after the cut due to warnings. So, about half of them start with dialogue, which is how I started writing--a lot of dialogue, minimal else things. The other half start by getting inside someone's head--internal dialogue, basically, so not that different I guess. Also I try to start with something funny or at least interesting, to hook the reader? I don't know if it works.

Endless Family Trick or Treating

“It’s not a sphere!” argued Dream, swinging his jack-o’-lantern trick-or-treat bucket against the leg of his vampire costume. “It is a sphere!” insisted Desire, twirling the tail of their demon costume in their hand again. “I learned it in school and it’s round like a ball so it’s a sphere.”

2. Velma Meets the Family

Velma stared at the gently lapping water of the river, leaning her elbows on the railing. The rest of the gang was fast asleep in their motel, but she hadn’t been able to sleep so she’d come outside to think. The water sounds were restful, but her mind refused to stop whirling. 

3. Freddy the Robot Vacuum

It was amazing what a person could get used to. Hob had enjoyed his first robot vacuum. It was nice, and not a very difficult adjustment, to get used to the vacuuming being done automatically for him while he was out. The little phone app notifications were cute, and he was only human so he anthropomorphized his vacuum, naming it Freddy. Getting used to the anthropomorphic personification of dreams hanging around in his flat… took a bit more time.

4. Life is but a Dream

Rose put her head down on the desk. Why? Why would the words come in the middle of the night, and never when she had her laptop out and on? She’d even tried writing her thoughts down, but found that she actually couldn’t make out her sleepy handwriting in the morning. She looked at the tumblr icon on her desktop, sighed, and got up to get a cup of tea instead. That would be a shorter distraction. Probably.

5. Death is not easy to cheat

Unity poured tea in both cups and sat down across from Rose, pushing the plate of cookies toward her. “How are you doing, dear? You look tired.” “Oh, Unity! It’s been so stressful lately! I can’t seem to think of the right words when I sit down to work on my novel, but then they keep me awake in the middle of the night, you know? And during the day Lyta is either freaking out about Daniel being with Uncle Morpheus and Hob, or freaking out about him being so white and growing up so fast.

6. Trials of a Shapeshifter in Love

“Lucienne has been working so hard lately,” Gault explained to the Dream King’s head cook. “I’d like to do something nice for her. I was thinking a surprise romantic dinner over candlelight in the library.” “Ah, yes, I think she would appreciate that very much.” They put their heads together to plan the meal when suddenly Gault heard a familiar voice from the hallway.  “So, what have you already tried?” Lucienne asked. “Hell, all the normal plunging and clawing didn’t fucking fix the goddamned blockage, and it’s a fucking hassle taking the whole damned drain apart all the way back into the fucking wall.” 

7. Naga No-Go

“Lucienne.” Lucienne’s head popped up from the book she was studying. Lord Morpheus’ summons sounded just a little bit more… strained than usual. She turned her head, using her raven senses to triangulate the direction of the summons. His chambers??? This… could not be good.

8. Which Witch (Okay I'm cheating here because this isn't published yet. but if you want more, let me know and I'll post it on ao3 or send you a link.)

“You can’t just come in here without a warrant.” The cantankerous old witch put her hands on her hips and stood squarely in the doorway. Eldie sighed and rubbed the shaved hair at the nape of her neck. “Please let me come in, ma’am. Your daughter hired me to clean and cook and help you out, and I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” “I don’t need help, you shameless hussy! Who does she think she is, that gossiping busy-body! I’m fine here by myself. You can go now!”

Okay, under the cut are mentions of spiders, and non-con body horror. (The fic is not bad, the backstory from canon is, and that's where I started.)

9. Arachnophilia (mentions of spiders)

Zelda stared down at the cafeteria mac and cheese on her plate. The only thing appetizing about the middle school cafeteria food was that her mother wasn’t glaring at her and criticizing how she did or didn’t eat it. Instead, everyone ignored her, tucked into a corner. She would feel hurt about being shunned if she had any desire at all to interact with the other children. She didn’t. She closed her eyes and shoved a forkful into her mouth, thinking about her science project to distract herself from the taste. Spider webs were actually incredibly strong for the size of the filament, and they came in such an extraordinary variety of shapes and sizes. She couldn’t wait to get back to the library for more research. She opened her eyes as she swallowed, scooping up more food and quickly scanning the room. 

10. The Order of the Knights of the Dreaming (the actual fic I wrote is pretty sweet without much actual violence, but Alice's backstory from InCryptids is intense, so skip this next paragraph if you don't like mentions of non-con and body horror)

Alice closed her eyes and felt her memories and skin being ripped from her once again. It hadn’t actually been like that. In real life, she hadn’t figured out her memories were being adjusted for years, and she’d undergone the flensing willingly. But once she learned that her mind had been altered without her knowledge and that removing her skin had not been necessary but was done for the profit of her “uncle,” well, the nightmares about being violated had been unceasing. 

If you made it this far, congratulations, consider yourself no-pressure tagged!