#but i don't know whether to try and write it into a fic or dumping the whole idea in bullet points on here. thoughts??

[freetobeafcknriot]

started having thoughts for an AU thingie with pjo-like elements where the gladers are [supposedly] children of pagan deities who wckd observed to be a potential key to a cure due to their generation being of divine origin and now i can't stop plotting, pls send help.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 15) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter 15

Your experiences with the cops have been mixed, but right now, the cops are so relieved that someone’s found Eri that they don’t ask you too many questions. They run your name through the database, of course, but when they come up with no prior arrests and the fact that you’re quirkless, you can actually see them write you off as a suspect. Sometimes your uselessness works to your advantage. You’re planning to make a clean getaway, but Eri wakes up as you’re trying to put her down and starts to cry. You try to remember who she said she wanted earlier. “Can you bring, um, Deku? She said something about him.”

Deku is a bizarre name for a hero. You wonder what Midoriya Izuku was smoking when he picked it out. “Let me see,” the officer on duty says. She smiles at Eri, who squeezes her eyes shut and hugs the plush corgi even closer to her chest. “I’ll make a call. You might have to wait with her.”

“That’s okay,” you say. You’re sort of interested to meet Midoriya Izuku. Tenko hates him, and you want to know what Tenko’s up against. “I don’t mind.”

It’s not a long wait. Maybe forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of Eri tossing and turning restlessly in your arms, waking briefly and falling asleep again, sometimes crying whether she’s awake or asleep, before two heroes come barreling into the police station. You know the first one is Midoriya, but you’ve seen the second one before, too – Eraserhead, Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher. The one who was defending his psychopath student on national TV.

Anger flares up inside you, and you fight to tamp it down. You can’t look defensive or hostile. You need to look harmless and quirkless and maybe a little stupid, so you’ll register as such a nonevent that the idea of you being involved with the League of Villains will never cross their minds. Midoriya reaches you first, out of breath and a little panicked. “Eri! Are you okay!”

She stirs slightly, and while Midoriya’s trying to figure out how to yank her out of your arms while still asking nicely, Eraserhead arrives. He activates his quirk at once, although you’re not sure who he’s trying to use it on. “Why is she unconscious?”

“She’s sick,” you say. “She was like that when I found her.”

“Why didn’t you bring her to the hospital? That would have been the logical choice.”

“You’re supposed to bring lost kids to the police, aren’t you?” You let your face fall slightly. “I just wanted to do the right thing. I wasn’t sure.”

“You brought Eri back. That’s the most important thing.” Midoriya’s focused on her. “Where did you find her?”

“I was walking home from the grocery store and I heard something in an alley. I thought it was a cat, but I went to look and it was her.” You’re a better liar than Tenko is. You know how many details to add, when to be nonspecific. “Do you know how she got there?”

“We don’t comment on active –”

“The League of Villains took her,” Midoriya says, cutting Eraserhead off. “We rescued her from Overhaul – it was on the news – but they took her before we could take her to the hospital. They must have decided to give her back.”

“They dumped her,” Eraserhead corrects sharply. “Giving her back would entail taking her to a police station or a hospital.”

“But they couldn’t go there without getting arrested,” Midoriya says. He holds out his arms, and you pass Eri in her blanket bundle to him. He looks at you over her head. “Did she say anything about them?”

“No,” you say. An idea pops into your head and you run with it – something to push back on the story Eraserhead is telling himself, something to make Midoriya think he’s right. Something to confuse them both, to make sure that the story Tenko was afraid they’d tell isn’t the one that survives. “She had the blanket when I found her. And the toy.”

“Oh,” Midoriya says. Eraserhead doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t look happy. “She seems like she really likes it.”

Even in her sleep, she has it crushed to her chest. You keep playing dumb. “Can she keep it?”

“Of course,” Midoriya says at once. “Right, sensei – er, Eraserhead?”

“If nothing is wrong with it, and she wouldn’t prefer a toy not given to her by a villain, yes.”

So she will get to keep it. It’s just an ordinary toy. You’ve made the handoff to the heroes, and now you can go. But would the slightly brain-dead civilian you’re playing just go? You get to your feet, but hesitate. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Eraserhead says. “She’ll be in good hands. Much better hands than she’s been in over the past twenty-four hours.”

You start nodding, ignoring the surge of frustration at the comparison between Tenko and Overhaul, and turn to leave. Eraserhead’s hand comes down on your shoulder as you’re walking away and scares the hell out of you. “What’s your name?”

“The police have it.” Wrong answer. If you had nothing to hide, you’d just have said your name a second time. You start babbling to cover up the error. “They looked me up and everything. Did you know they keep addresses? Like all the addresses I’ve ever lived at. It’s so weird!”

“Did you see anything?” Eraserhead asks. You shake your head. “Was anyone in the alley with her?”

You shake your head. “I only saw her. I wouldn’t have known she was there if she hadn’t made a sound.”

“She’s lucky you went to investigate,” Eraserhead says. The weird look you give him isn’t even slightly faked. “Most people wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” you say. “I – um – I’m glad I looked, too. It was – nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Midoriya says. He’s awkwardly rocking Eri. “Sensei, should we call an ambulance?”

“That would be best.”

They’re not paying attention to you anymore. You leave, feeling like you’ve dodged a bullet or ten.

The League is in a celebratory mood when you get back. Defeating Overhaul and cementing Tomura’s status as the next leader of the criminal underworld is a big deal, and you’re happy, too – but at the same time, you’re stuck on the fact that life as you know it is ending. If the Hassaikai could find you, other people could, too, and you’re still quirkless. Defenseless. It’s not safe for you to be here on your own. And Ryuhei was right. As the team’s medic, you have to actually be with the team to do any good. It’s right that you should leave. It was going to happen eventually. And you still feel like you’re losing something you can’t replace.

Because you are. After this, you won’t be a civilian anymore. Even if you’re not committing serious crimes yourself, the semblance of a normal life you’ve been maintaining will die away. You’ll be like your cousin Manami for real. Except that compared to what you’re mixed up in, Manami’s strictly small-time.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Spinner remarks, sprawling out with his feet up on your couch. It takes way too much effort not to cry.

You head back to your room to pack long before everyone else starts to settle down. What are you supposed to bring with you when you go on the run? Your costume, obviously. Medical supplies, obviously, which you’ll restock from the soon-to-be-set-up supply caches when you need to. Changes of clothes, deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush? You try to figure it out based on what the League’s been asking you to buy for them, and it already feels like you’ve got too much stuff in the backpack you’re bringing with you. And that’s not even counting the evidence.

There’s not much left of Shimura Tenko. You’re pretty sure you have all of it, and there’s not room for it in your backpack, even with the plush corgi finding a new home, and you can’t leave it here for whoever searches your apartment once you’ve gone missing. The smart thing would be to get rid of it. Crumple up the valentine, shred the photos, throw the album away, flush the locket down the toilet and forget about it all. But you don’t want to do that. You don’t want Shimura Tenko to exist only in your memory. If something happens to you, it’ll be like he never existed at all.

You fold the valentine carefully, slide it into an empty sleeve of the photo album. You bury the album at the bottom of the backpack. The locket lands on the nightstand, to put on later. That just leaves you with the journal. You haven’t read through it at all yet, and even though you’re pretty sure you’ll be flushing the pages down the toilet, you decide that you should read a few of them first.

It takes only a few seconds for you to wish you hadn’t. The journal starts when you’re seven, and all the feelings you hadn’t learned to hide yet are scrawled on the page. Anger, confusion, sadness, loneliness, hurt, guilt. So much guilt. You didn’t remember how hard your younger self had tried to find Tenko, how much trouble you’d gotten into for sneaking out to look for him. You didn’t remember how insane everyone made you feel – not just for believing that he was still alive, but for remembering him at all. It’s obvious in the weight of your pen against the paper, the heaviness of the strokes, the size of the characters. HE WAS REAL. HE WAS HERE.

As the pages turn and you grow older, your handwriting gets better, until the day you found out your parents were planning to wipe your memory, at which point you go insane for real. Given what a mess your handwriting was and how blurry and water-stained the paper is, you’re surprised you managed to pull it together long enough to hide the journal and everything else away.

You’ve always thought your parents were wrong to do what they did. You still think that. But when you read through the journal as an adult, you can catch the faintest glimpse of why they went that far. If you had a kid and they were doing this, you’d be worried. You wouldn’t know what to do. And if it was really you, you grown up for real with a kid you’ll never have, you’d be terrified, because you know where this leads. It leads to throwing away a decent life, a normal life, and following your best friend off the edge of the world.

There are a lot of pages in the journal. You have to flush them down the toilet in handfuls, and you’re so focused on getting rid of them that you don’t realize how weird it is to flush the toilet eight times in a row. Someone clears their throat and you look up to find Dabi and Toga watching you. “What are you doing?” Dabi asks.

“Disposing evidence.” You yank the last set of pages out of reach and flush them, too. “Get out of my room.”

Dabi leaves. Toga stays, poking through your bathroom cabinet. “Can I have this?” she asks, lifting up your meager makeup collection. You nod. “What about this?”

Perfume you never use. “If you want to carry it, it’s yours,” you say, and Toga grins. “Actually, if you help me pack, you can have whatever’s left in my closet. That you’re willing to carry.”

“You’re the best! I needed some new things.” Toga hugs you, then turns to your dresser and closet, all business. “Bring all your underwear. Like, all of it. We can’t do laundry very much and I don’t feel as gross when I can switch mine out.”

That’s reasonable. “Don’t bring anything with short sleeves or anything sleeveless. Warm stuff only. It’s getting really cold at night,” she continues. She starts taking things out of your dresser and putting them on the bed. You can’t tell if she’s picking them for herself or for you. “Find a way to wear your hair that won’t get messed up too easy. We won’t get to wash it very often, either.”

Your hair’s going to be hidden by the veil, but that’s still smart. Toga has more suggestions – clothes with sturdy fabric, bras that aren’t uncomfortable to sleep in – before she gets serious. “Period stuff. I made Mister shrink a whole bunch of it, but it sucks to have to ask him to un-compress it.”

“That was really smart, though. It makes stuff a lot easier to carry.”

“We should have him compress most of the supplies,” Toga says, her eyes brightening. “That way we can carry more!”

She runs off to tell Tomura and the others, and you go back to reorganizing your backpack to fit Toga’s must-haves in it. She comes back a few minutes later, all business once more. “If you have jewelry, bring it so we can sell it if we need money,” she says. “And just to have. It’s nice to look pretty sometimes.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She throws a sock at you. “Being mean to yourself isn’t cute. Tomura-kun likes you how you are. Overhaul was really gross and even he liked you.”

“He didn’t like me. He just knew he could use me to get to Tomura.” You feel guilty when you think about it. You could have derailed Tomura’s plans so easily, just by being weak, being unable to fight for yourself. You need to fix that. “I wasn’t saying I’m ugly. I’m just saying I don’t think about that a lot. Anyway – jewelry?”

Toga nods, and you start digging your jewelry out of its various hiding spots. Rather than investing in a jewelry box with a lock that Compress could pick in two seconds, you scattered your small collection around your room, figuring Compress would give up the hunt rather than risk Tomura’s wrath. It must have worked, because everything is right where you left it, and none of it’s been replaced by one of Twice’s copies. You’re hoping Toga will let the subject drop, but she doesn’t. Not quite. “How did you make Tomura-kun fall in love with you?”

“That’s a strong word,” you say, thankful you’ve got your back to her right now. Neither you nor Tomura has said the L word. In your case, it’s not because you don’t feel it. You don’t know why you’ve held back on saying it out loud. “I didn’t make him. We just spent time together and it happened.”

“That won’t work for me.” Toga’s frowning. “I like Ochako – and Izuku – and Tsu. But they won’t spend time with me because they’re heroes.”

Your inclination is to tell Toga to find a more realistic crush, but you’re also not an asshole. “You’ve seen Ochako and Izuku at least twice, right?” you ask, and she nods. “When you see them next, try to make a strong impression, I guess. Since you don’t get to spend time with them very much, you have to make it count.”

“Something romantic,” Toga says, and you nod. “When I do that, can I have these earrings? Green looks good with my eyes.”

“Sure.”

“And what about this? Can I –” Toga breaks off, gasps. You turn to find her standing by the nightstand, your locket open in her hand. “Who’s this? Is this –”

You see it in her eyes when she realizes. She claps a hand over her mouth, which is good. Now you don’t have to do it for her. “You can’t tell the others,” you say, keeping your voice low. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t if you tell me everything.” Toga looks shocked and gleeful at the same time. It’s a weirdly intimidating expression. “Otherwise I have to talk to people so they can help me guess. I won’t need to if there’s nothing to guess about.”

You don’t want to tell anyone, but you want out of this conversation, and you don’t want it to leave this room. You sit down on the end of the bed, well clear of the stuff you’re trying to pack, and Toga plops down next to you cross-legged. “I knew him when we were kids,” you start. “We lived across the street from each other. We were best friends until – um –”

“He used to be normal?” Toga looks amazed. “What happened?”

“His quirk awakened. It –” You trail off. You’re not sure how to describe the carnage in what was left of Tenko’s house. It’s not your story to tell. “He disappeared after that. It was fifteen years before I saw him again.”

“How did you know it was him? He looks so different now than he does in the picture.”

“The scratching. He did that as a kid, too. And he remembered me, sort of.” You remember the way he froze when you said his name, how fast he ran from you. You’ve never asked him why he ran away. “There isn’t really that much to tell. That’s it.”

“Childhood sweethearts. That’s so romantic!” Toga beams. You’re not sure you want to call it that when the two of you were only five – but there’s a photo of the two of you swapping valentines right before you kissed him, so you can’t really argue. “He loves you so much. I can always smell when people are in love. He’d do anything for you.”

No, he wouldn’t. You’re pretty sure there’s one thing Tomura wouldn’t do for anyone. You search Toga’s face, looking for any hint that she’s planning to double-cross you. “I held up my end of things. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I bet they’d think it’s cute.”

“It’s not safe for many people to know,” you say. You think of how Tomura reacted when you told him Kurogiri had brought you to All For One, how relieved he was that you hadn’t revealed yourself. Even with All For One locked up in Tartarus, you don’t want that information getting out. “My friends Yoshimi and Mitsuko and Ryuhei know, and my other friend Kazuo. And now you.”

“Because we’re friends.” Toga hugs you from the side. “I’m so glad you’re finally coming with us! Jin is the best big brother ever, but I can’t talk to him about things like I can talk to another girl.”

“If we’re friends, we have to keep each other’s secrets,” you say. “Even if the others would think it’s cute. You have to promise not to tell.”

“Fine. I won’t tell.” Toga heaves a sigh. She snaps the locket closed and hands it back to you. “I should get one of these. I want pictures of Ochako and the others!”

“Maybe you can steal one,” you say, wondering if this counts as helping the League commit a crime. You’ve stayed out of Kazuo’s searches this long, but you don’t think you’ll be able to much longer. “And it’s not like pictures of them are hard to find. I’ll help if you get one.”

She hugs you again, and the two of you go back to packing. You fasten the locket around your neck instead of putting it on the nightstand. Now that multiple members of the League feel fine coming into your room without asking, it’s not safe to leave it lying around.

Toga’s tired by the time you’re done packing, and so is everyone else. When she leaves, you can hear them all settling down for the night in the living room, bemoaning the fact that this is the last time they’ll have a soft bed for a while. You, meanwhile, need to make sure your absence goes unnoticed for as long as possible. Tenko comes in while you’re composing an email to your supervisors, telling them that you need to take a leave of absence from work for the sake of your mental health. It would be a good idea even if you didn’t need to go on the run.

Tenko shuts the door, sits down behind you on the bed, and wraps himself around you. “What are you doing?”

“Covering my tracks. My family won’t notice for months, but work will notice I’m missing unless I give them a reason not to look.” You scan the email one last time and send it, then shut the lid of your laptop. “I should probably leave this here, right?”

“Maybe not. It would be good to have it,” Tenko says. He notches his chin over your shoulder. “If your job thinks you’re on leave, then it won’t look weird that you’re still connecting to the internet. You can probably bring your phone and keep in contact with the others, too.”

“Okay.” You slide your laptop and charger into your backpack. “But I still have to go.”

“Yeah. It’s not safe,” Tenko says. “The heroes might not have captured all of Overhaul’s minions, and he could have left instructions for them. And they won’t be the last enemies we make. I need you to be safe, and the only way I can make sure is if you’re with me.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Do you not want to come with me?”

“I do,” you say. “It’s just – I don’t know. The way I’ve been helping is the way I’m most useful to you. I can’t fight. I don’t have a quirk. I can find a weapon somewhere and I can do the medic thing, but –”

“Don’t say you’re useless.”

You weren’t going to, but it’s what you’re thinking, and Tenko knows you too well. He hugs you a little closer. “What else?”

The question leaves your mouth before you can think it through all the way. “I want to know where this ends.”

“Overhaul really got inside your head, huh?”

“It’s not about him,” you say. You’ve opened this can of worms. You might as well dump it out. “When we were kids, it didn’t matter that we never won. There was always another day. We could start over as many times as we needed to, and try as many things as we could think of until something worked. But this isn’t like that. When people get hurt, it sticks. When they die, they die, and we can’t get them back.”

You think of Hirono and Sho. Of Magne, who’s not dead but who’s locked up with no way for you and the others to rescue her. “I don’t want us to keep fighting forever. I want us to win fast, before we lose anyone else. And I don’t know what winning looks like.”

“When all of this is destroyed,” Tenko says, like it’s obvious. “There’s no piece of it that isn’t built on lies. Even your job, the stuff you do – it wouldn’t have to happen if the heroes and the idiots who worship them didn’t keep throwing people away. It can’t be fixed from the inside, so we have to tear it down. I have to. It’s what I’m here for.”

You want to argue, but you won’t win. You know you won’t. “And what about after it’s gone?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. “But you do.”

You can’t manage anything more than a stunned silence. “I know it needs to be destroyed,” Tenko continues. “Anybody who’s not lying to themselves can see that. But I haven’t lived in it. Not like you and the others have. So when there’s nothing left, you can decide what to put in its place.”

He tucks his head in against the side of your neck. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin. “You were always better at telling the stories than me, anyway. They were never any good on the days you stayed home.”

“Don’t you have any ideas?” you ask faintly. “About what it should be like? It’ll be your world too.”

“You wanted to know where it ends. That’s where,” Tenko says. “We win when we tear everything down. When it’s all gone, you and the others get to choose what happens next. It should be mostly you. Maybe Spinner, too, if you need help with anything.”

“What about you?” Foreboding creeps over you, making your skin crawl. “Where are you going to be, Tenko? When this is all over?”

“When it’s all over there won’t be a point to me anymore.”

“No.” You twist in Tenko’s arms, putting the two of you face to face. He avoids your gaze, which is how you know you’re right, how you know that you picked up the real meaning in what he said. “That’s not how this works. It’s not winning unless you’re with me afterwards.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you with me or not?” He’s stubborn. You’re stubborn, too. More stubborn than he is – but he’s still talking. “It was nice to think about while we were here. What it would have been like to be normal. But that won’t happen. Not even after we’re done with all this, so there’s no point –”

“Who said I wanted normal?” You cut him off. “I’m your sidekick. That means I’m with you no matter what. So if you want me to get through this and build a new world, you’d better be planning to come with me. Because if you’re not, I’m staying right here with you.”

Are you making some kind of suicide pact? You don’t think so. You think you’re just trying to get it through Tenko’s head that the two of you are in this together, no matter where it goes or how far it goes. He’ll destroy this world that’s hurt him, that’s hurt the League, that’s hurt you and so many others – and then you’ll build a new one, one where everyone has at least a shot at being happy. Everyone. Including him.

Tenko still won’t look at you. You cup his face in your hands, run your thumb across the scar on his lip, and his gaze drifts back to you. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“I – yeah.” Tenko’s red eyes stay focused on yours this time. “I mean, I guess. If you’re serious.”

“I’m serious,” you say, and he kisses you.

He’s not wearing his gloves. You have to pull away so he can put them on, and then again to get more comfortable on the bed – and then again so he can take off his shirt. As soon as Tenko has his shirt off, he’s pulling at yours, and once it’s gone, he drags you into his arms, holding on almost painfully tight. He kisses you hard enough that his lips split in spite of your best efforts. He needs to slow down. You need to slow him down. But when you frame his face with your hands again, he melts against you in a way that’s impossible to resist. Maybe you’re the one who needs to change this time.

Every moment, every motion, fades seamlessly into the next. It feels natural to kiss the scar over the side of his mouth, and the birthmark below it, and move from there to kissing his neck. It’s natural to hook your leg over his hip, to roll to your back and pull him down on top of you. It only makes sense to peel off your pants and unbutton Tenko’s and slide your hand inside, palming him through his underwear. It feels right to kiss him while you touch him, even if it’s a shame to have to muffle the sounds he makes with your mouth. The destruction of everything and the creation of a new world feels so distant that it might as well be a dream. The only thing that matters is the texture of his skin under your hands, the brush of his hair against your cheek, the sound of his breathing and of his voice when he says your name.

“Stop,” Tenko says, his voice shaking, and you obey, withdrawing your hand from his waistband and resting it flat against his stomach. “I want – not like this. This time. I want us to – can we –”

He’s pulling at the waistband of your underwear, and it clicks in your head. There’s something the two of you haven’t done yet. “Sex,” you say. Tenko nods. He looks worried, like there’s a chance you’ll make fun of him or say no. “There are condoms in the nightstand.”

“I thought they were in the bathroom.”

“I moved them,” you say. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Tenko says. “You were thinking about it, too.”

You have been, on and off. You figured it would happen organically, but tonight is sort of your last chance to get your first time out of the way if you want your first time to happen in a bed behind closed doors. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you say. You wind your fingers into Tenko’s hair and tug lightly. “Want me to tell you what I’ve been thinking about?”

Tenko sucks in a breath. “Yes.”

You talk to him while he struggles out of his clothes and searches for the condoms you put in the nightstand. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you say, trying to shed any hint of self-consciousness. “I thought about riding you. Maybe holding your hands down, too – not so you can’t touch me, but so you don’t have to do anything but let me make you feel good. I thought about letting you take me from behind, so you’re in control of everything, start to finish. I’d trust you with that. I know you’d feel so good that I wouldn’t care about anything else.”

Tenko’s gloved hands are shaking as he tries to unwrap the condom. His cock looks almost agonizingly hard. “But then I decided,” you continue, trying not to stare, “that I want you on top of me, this time. I want to see you.”

“Why?”

“I like looking at you,” you say. You could get into it more, but you’re worried you’d embarrass him. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with the condom now that he’s opened it. Then again, he’s never been to sex ed. You take it from him. “I was thinking,” Tenko starts, then shudders as you roll the condom down over his length. “I – fuck, I don’t know, I’m not good at this like you are. I want – you –”

“We can work the rest out later.” You lie back, legs spread, and pull him down with you. “Let’s start here.”

You help him align his cock with your entrance, lift your hips to make it easier as he sinks into you for the first time. Tenko’s a stretch, just shy of uncomfortable, more than enough to make your head spin. Your hands are shakier than you want them to be as you reach for him, and the low moan that exits his mouth sends a rush of heat through you and makes your muscles clench tight. Tenko’s hips give a frantic jerk. “Don’t do that. I can’t last if you –”

“I can’t – not,” you gasp. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

Tenko’s hips jerk again. You see him grit his teeth, clench his jaw, and his first real thrust is shallow, shallow enough that your body aches for more. The next is deeper, but not by much, and the pattern he falls into deepens by increments, so small that you can barely feel a difference. You know he’s trying to hold himself together, trying not to come too soon, but it feels like he’s teasing you on purpose. Torturing you. almost. Giving you just enough of what you want that all you can think of is what you’re missing.

“Please,” you say, and Tenko’s eyes widen. “I need more. I don’t care if it’s over fast. I just want –”

He sinks into you to the hilt, leaving no space between you, and it takes all your willpower not to cry out. The pace he sets is faster this time, uneven enough to keep you on your toes if your toes weren’t curling already. The only problem is that it makes kissing difficult, and without it, you’re both a little too loud. Tenko’s trying to keep his mouth covered and keep his balance at the same time. You cover it for him with one hand while the other works its way between the two of you, finding your clit. You want the two of you to finish together, or close to it. You don’t want Tenko to worry that it wasn’t good.

You’re closer than you thought you were. A lot closer. “Tenko,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “Tenko, I need you. You feel so good like – there –”

You’d have helped him find this spot if either of you had the patience, but he’s found it on his own, and there’s nothing more you can do. A few uneven thrusts, the slightest pressure against your clit, and you’re coming on Tenko’s cock. You know instantly that you can’t keep quiet, and with both hands occupied, the only way to muffle yourself is to press your mouth against Tenko’s shoulder. He fucks you for a few more unsteady, rapid strokes as you tremble and whimper and moan into his shoulder. The barely-muffed sounds he makes when he comes send one last jolt through you, intense enough that you bite down.

Tenko slumps forward against you, shuddering. You free both hands to wrap your arms around him, holding on tight.  And then it’s quiet in your room, save for the sound of his breathing and yours.

Your mouth is still glued to his shoulder. You can taste his sweat. Or maybe blood. How hard did you bite him? Embarrassment creeps in through the haze, worse when you realize you’re still clinging to him for dear life. You need to loosen up five seconds ago. “Sorry –”

“Huh?” Tenko sounds half-asleep, and two of you are working at cross purposes. You’re trying to let him go, and he’s settling in for a nap. “Don’t do that. It’s nice.”

He yawns. You can’t let him fall asleep like this. You shove lightly at his shoulder. “You can sleep in a second. We have to, um – disengage.”

“Why? I’m comfortable.”

He wants to fall asleep still inside you. That would be surprisingly hot if the condom wasn’t an issue. “The condom might leak. That’s not good.”

“It isn’t?” Tenko yawns again.

You can’t tell whether Tenko doesn’t know where babies come from or if he’s just being obtuse on purpose. “Getting pregnant when we’re about to go on the run would be really bad.”

“You were really good with that kid.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You don’t get an answer, and you decide you’re not going to worry about it right now. “Out.”

Tenko groans and pulls away. You have enough time to ditch the condom in the trash can in the bathroom, followed by the speediest bathroom break and hand-washing of your life, and as soon as you’re within arm’s reach again, Tenko yanks you back down. He flops down into the same position as before, minus actually being inside you, and you decide the comment from before can’t go unaddressed. “Me being good with kids wouldn’t make it less stupid to screw around with birth control.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, although you’re not sure of how much of it he actually got. His breathing is already starting to even out. “I didn’t know you kept the dog.”

“I kept everything you gave me,” you say. “Are you mad I gave it to her?”

Tenko shakes his head, burrowing deeper into your shoulder in the bargain. The bitemark you left is already bruising. “You win,” he says. You’re puzzling over that, your own eyelids growing heavy, when Tenko speaks again. “I love you.”

Your jaw drops. Toga told you that Tenko felt that way, that she can always tell when someone’s in love, but hearing it come out of his mouth is something else entirely. Some part of you is elated to hear it. That part of you wants to shake him awake and kiss him and tell him that you love him, too – and not so subtly suggest depleting your condom supply a little bit further. That would be the thing that makes sense, the normal thing to do, the thing that somebody who’s loved him for as long as you have to do. You do love Tenko. You loved him when you were children, and you’re in love with him now as an adult. So why does the thought of saying so fill you with terror?

It’s not like you’ve never told someone you love them before. You told Kazuo, when the two of you were dating. It felt easy then. You talked to your cousin about it afterwards, because the two of you were close, and she was surprised to hear you say so. “It’s never easy for me,” she said, and you couldn’t quite hide your own surprise. “It’s easy to feel love. When I love somebody I feel so much I can’t stand it. But saying it out loud makes it real. Saying it changes them, and it changes me. So it’s harder to say for me than for you.”

You always thought that was because of Manami’s quirk, which powers up the person she loves most when she tells them how she feels, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s hard for you to say to Tenko because it makes it real in your head – more real than being his girlfriend, than basically moving him into your apartment, than quitting your job and going on the run with him and his villainous organization on a mission to tear down the old world. It’s stupid to think that way, when it’s everything you’ve done that makes it real. After everything you’ve done, everything you’re planning to do, you’ve proved your love for Tenko. Maybe you don’t need to say it out loud.

And maybe Tenko didn’t mean it, either. The two of you just slept together for the first time, and Mitsuko always says that you can’t count on anything a guy says until at least an hour afterwards. It was just an aberration, and it’s not like he’s waiting for you to say it back – he’s fast asleep in your arms, maybe drooling a little bit on your shoulder. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You close your eyes.

It takes you a second to get your bearings in the morning, to remember everything that happened yesterday. It was a lot. Overhaul almost had you kidnapped. You returned the girl the League kidnapped to the police. You realized you’d be going on the run and had sex with Tenko for the first time, and – you become conscious of someone watching you, and you open your eyes to find Tenko, awake before you for once and watching you with his chin propped in his gloved hand.

His hair is messy and his lips are cracked and stained with dried blood, but he looks well-rested for once. “What is it?” you ask. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, uh –” You struggle with forming the question. “Why are you staring?”

“You’re my sidekick, and my girlfriend, and we leveled up so hard last night that I slept like a rock.” Tenko cracks a grin, and a new split appears in his lower lip. “And I love you. Is that a good enough reason?”

You reach out and pull him in for a kiss, hoping he’ll count it as a yes. You lick the blood away from his lips and run your fingers through his tangled hair and do everything you can to ignore the twinging in your chest, the weight on the tip of your tongue. You love Tenko. Saying it might change things, but you can’t avoid saying it forever. It isn’t right. And with your involvement in the destruction Tenko’s planned for the world all but assured, you need to do the right thing where you can.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello again! I've returned with another fic roulette request!

I would love to see what you can do with 2 and 31 Tech and f!reader. Please and thank you~ (Apologies for another Tech request, I'm a wee bit of a Tech girlie. ^^' )

Hello gorgeous,

I'm a Tech girlie too, so don't worry. I love our lovable nerd clone. He's so adorable.

I hope you enjoy this fic, since you didn't specify a platonic relationship, I didn't write one. I hope that's okay.

Also all the star talk is copied from Study.com, 'What Causes a Star to Shine Brightly?' article. Thank you to the writer for providing a great synopsis I could use.

Also it got a bit long at 1400+ words.

Love oo,

Just a Dream

Warning: Fluff, anxiety, force sensitive reader, possible character death, fear, nightmare, information dumping, I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

The house was quiet, the island was quiet, not surprising when it was nearly two in the morning. You did your best to try and sleep, but you couldn’t. You kept having the same dream, a secret meeting with Imperial commanders. An explosion that dislodges a cable car. Tech hanging from a rappelling cable. No matter how hard you tried to push those images away, you couldn’t. Something about Tech dangling over nothing from a rappelling cable put knots in your stomach. You grabbed the shawl one of the villagers made you, they said you looked like the kind that indulged in warmth. She was a kind older woman, and you couldn’t say no. 

You tightened the shawl around as you sat on the patio chairs that had been donated to you and the Bad Batch. It was their way of welcoming all of you and honestly, you were beyond overwhelmed by Pabu’s hospitality and openness. You never wanted to leave here. 

As quietly as possible you moved the chair away from the patio table, took a seat and looked up watching the stars, trying to calm down your mind. 

It was a few minutes before you heard the door to the house close and footsteps coming to join your side. 

Tech sat down and looked up to the stars with you, he knew if you were out here it usually had to do with a nightmare that wouldn’t leave your mind or it had to do with some anxiety you were going through at the moment. 

“Do you know a star is a glowing body of gas and plasma? The reason a star glows is that it uses nuclear fusion to fuse hydrogen atoms into helium nuclei producing both heat and light. Scientists can determine what elements make up a star by looking at the emission spectra of the light they produce.”

You turned your head looking at him smiling, enjoying listening to his voice.

“There’s a star that is known as a red dwarf star, it’s smaller and cooler than main-sequence stars. However, due to their dimensions and cooler temperature they are too dim to be seen by the naked eye. You need a telescope in order to see them.  And some have been estimated to have a life span of 10 trillion years.”

As you listened to his soothing voice you couldn’t help but smile and keep looking at him as you turned fully to face him, keeping the shawl close, shutting out the cold air.

“What other star is there?”

“Well I’ve also read about red supergiant stars. Now these stars have fused all their hydrogen, so now they are fusing helium into carbon. Causing the star to expand in size until all the helium runs out in about one to two million years. The stars with the coolest temperatures appear red, and when a red supergiant star dies, it explodes into a supernova.”

You smirked as you listened to him, “When did you learn all this stuff about stars?” You asked him as you watched him turn his head to look at you.

“When I learned you enjoyed looking at the stars.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You are important to me, and what you find enjoyable is important to me too.”

“You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

"I will always be there for you. Whether you need me to simply info dump so your brain turns off, or you need someone to sit beside you in silence and hold your hand. I’ll always be there for you.”

As he said those words the image of him dangling from the rappelling cable came back into your mind, your smile fading as the sense of dread from before filled you again. 

He didn’t have to ask to see what something was wrong, he moved his chair closer, and gently caressed your head, holding your hand, “Hey, hey, shhhh. Shhhh. You’re okay. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your head, using his forefinger to lift your chin, until your eyes met his. 

“What’s wrong?” He gently wiped the tears that had been silently falling down your cheeks, “What is it? Was it a nightmare?”

You simply nodded afraid that speaking what you feared may come true. 

“Was it a bad dream?”

Well that’s the thing, it wasn’t necessarily a bad dream, but the feeling that came with the dream is what made it worse. It was almost as though your heart was preparing you for a loss that you hadn’t even experienced yet, “I … I don’t know.” You finally answered, giving the only answer you really could. 

Tech tilted his head as he looked at you, slowly guiding you out of your chair, to sit on his lap as his arms wrapped around you, gently rubbing your back as you tucked your head into his neck, wanting to hide from everything.

“Well… can you tell me what’s got you so upset. Was it something in the dream? Or was it something you realized because of the dream?”

“It …. It didn’t really …” you took a breath and closed your eyes as you wrapped your free arm around Tech holding him close, “It was about you.”

“Me. Okay. What about me? Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“Was I mean to you?”

“No.”

“Did this have to do with a mission?” You were silent. “Okay, a mission. Did something go wrong in the mission?” 

“I don’t know… I think so. I saw an explosion.”

“Okay. Explosion, was someone injured because of the explosion?”

“No.”

“Was I in danger because of the explosion?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well what can you tell me?”

“You were dangling.”

“Dangling. Was I holding on to something for dear life, dangling? Or was I gripping onto Wrecker’s arm, and waiting for him to pull me back to safety dangling?”

“You were hanging over nothing from a rappelling cable. I know it doesn’t sound bad, but … I have this feeling.”

“Feeling?”

“Yes. I feel as though … I … I’ll lose you.”

Tech didn’t speak for a second, processing what you were saying, trying to understand the fear that had somehow embedded itself into your heart. 

“So … you think I’ll die on this mission that we haven’t planned or even expected.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but … I feel something big is going to happen, and because of that … we’ll be forced to make a decision. And because of that decision … I’ll …” your voice died down, barely above a whisper as you were about to answer him, “I’ll lose you. Forever.”

He let out a sigh, as he turned his head to kiss your forehead and wrapped his arms tighter around you, “Death is part of life, cyar’ika. You know that, I know that. These dreams … I know your force sensitive, not a Jedi, but at least somewhat knowledgeable of the force, and … it could mean a lot of things. It could mean that I’m simply dangling out in the open for a short amount of time. Could mean that I need to pack a second rappelling gun, in case the first one gets jammed it doesn’t mean I’m going to die.”

He took a minute to breathe in your scent leaving another kiss on your forehead, “And even if I die, it won’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you. Ner cyare, please know that the time I’ve spent with you, being loved by you, having the privilege to love you in return has been some of the happiest and most loveliest days of my life. I look forward to every morning and night, because you’re there to make it better. I’m not saddened by the fact I may have to face my death, because I have no regrets.”

“I don’t want you to go” you stated, trying to fight back the tears despite the pricks you felt, “I’d rather have you alive and beside me. I …” you voice trembled as your bottom lip quivered, “I’m not ready to let you go.”

“Cyare, it was just a dream. I’m not going anywhere. Like I said there are no missions we plan on taking or are planning. I’m going to be right here.”

Tech held you for the rest of the night, even when you went back to your quarters, he didn’t stop holding you, keeping you pressed against him hoping to calm your fears and worries. He didn’t want to tell you, but the fact you may have dreamt his death, unnerved him a little. He shook the idea out of his mind, there was no need to worry. There were no missions coming up. 

At least that’s what he thought, until he received the distress call from Crosshair. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

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[sencrose]

trying to think about like. my selfship divides so rambling below

gojo i just treat like a barbie idc. he's a creep. he's endearing. he's manipulative. he puts me above everyone else. i will write him in literally any situation and i will find a way to make it work bc i love him and he contains multitudes. the only thing i genuinely can't do is angst with him. that's my baby boy idc we are chilling and cuddling on the couch with sweets in every universe (even if there is a chain around my ankle)

caleb (I KNOW I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT THIS MUCH YET SHHHH) is just. soooooooooo built for like. will they won't they yearning. this baby is built to hold sooooo much nostalgia. and angst but it eventually resolves. i project a lot of guilt/shame over things that happened to me as a teen on to him (trying to make a playlist for the fic i wanna write for him has been so hard bc i just keep choosing songs i listened to in hs that don't necessarily go with the vibe of the fic)

sylvain is. there. i do not think of lore of him other than him trying to get my attention sooooo bad but i do not trust him bc of the skirt chaser rumors. i don't think there would be a lot going on during academy days bc of my inherent distrust of him but something happens during the war period where he seems more human and less of a caricature and i'd open myself up to him a bit more (given he opens up first). i also wanna come up with a better selfship tag with him gdhjflsk

genuinely torn on whether i selfship with nao or not. like. i love him a lot but in most iterations i imagine being his pump and dump LMAO. on a more serious note i think if i did, it would probably be like. realizing oh shit i love him after he's dead. which, i know, tragic, but there's a lot of interesting potential there (started an outline for this somewhere and then forgot i wrote it. maybe one day it'll get somewhere)

[xihe1874]

Hello everyone!!! I know it's been quite a while (who am I kidding it's been a year or so). But here I am, posting stupid nothing about these stupid lover boys again.

This is a Harry Potter crossover, but you don't have to have read Harry Potter to understand this.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you like this, please let me know as this author lives for comments and likes <3

Wish you all the best <3

================================================

Relationship: Iceman/Maverick

Tags: Fluff, Humor, Mutual Pining, Angst, but just a little bit, because they are both idiots, Idiots in love, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Alternative Universe - Magic, Love Potion/Spell, Truth Serum, Actually the tags are spoil alerts, Not actually unrequited love, Requited love, First kiss, Falling in love

Word count: 3534

================================================

"Goose, you sure it's the real thing? Why does it look so weird?"

Pete shook the vial and regarded the liquid in it with a suspicious face. Even if it was just a prank, he — the youngest Seeker Gryffindor had ever seen in history who had terrified so many enemies both on the oval pitch and in love — needed to ensure that it was the best prank of this century. Using some fake stuff? Totally unacceptable.

"Of course." Nick nodded, holding a book as thick as a brick. "Absolutely. Transparent, colorless, bubbling. Exactly the same as written in the book. Besides, it was from Carole's third aunt's second cousin who has connections in the Knockturn Alley. So if you doubt this potion, you will be doubting Carole."

There seemed to be something wrong with the logic. But Pete was not gonna argue with his best friend.

"But I thought it would be a bit… fancier? Like, I don't know, pink? After all, it's…"

"Love Potion, I know. But love is just like this, Mav." Nick sighed sagely. "When love approaches, there is not necessarily any obvious sign. You won't be noticing anything. But when it strikes, it's arresting, overwhelming. Like the peace before a storm."

Pete couldn't help but howl with laughter. He shook his head, massaging the aching stomach. "Such a poet, huh, Goose? How many Carole's Muggle fics have you read?"

With great amusement, he watched a blush climb its way into Nick's cheeks, and the taller wizard began to stammer out a feeble denial. 

"All right, all right. Like you could have me fooled by that. But it's not bad, considering that we will add it to water. Less likely for them to notice."

Nick was visibly relieved. He put the book down and summoned the cup they prepared.

"Carole told me that the Love Potion is custom-made, and it will not push whoever drinks this to fall in love with us. Rather, it will let them love a random somebody. The effect lasts for one day."

Pete smirked with mischief. "What a pity. I'd rather be loved by some dumbass Prefect, and then dump them. Must be delicious."

Something unreadable flickered across Nick's face. He opened his mouth, then decided against it. Just as Pete was about to ask whether his friend was hiding something from him, Nick took the vial from his hand and opened the cork.

Instinctively, Pete inhaled.

A strange feeling spread from the tip of his nose, like a long winter that was finally clearing up, with warm sunlight gradually seeping into his blood. He felt his heartbeat suddenly quicken as if it were trying to break free from its restraints and reveal all the secrets he had hidden away. Pete felt like he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up but knew he would rather give up everything—except Quidditch, maybe—than let this dream end.

He felt both excited and scared.

The air was filled with... the unique pine fragrance of a brand-new Firebolt, the sweetness of chocolate cookies, and another scent, not overpowering, but it instantly captured all of Pete's attention.

Mint.

It was a faint minty smell similar to a Muggle snack called chewing gum.

He knew this snack because there was someone who loved it. The said person was always chewing it, a habit that could be annoying, but the minty scent around him was actually pleasant. So every time Pete saw him, he couldn't help but lean closer—though most of the time it was to tease and counter-tease. Each time he passed by him on the Quidditch pitch, catching a glimpse of the other's sweaty blonde hair and rosy cheeks from the corner of his eye, Pete couldn't help but close his eyes and take a deep breath, unable to resist imagining whether the man's kiss would also be...

"What did you smell, Mav?"

Pete was snapped back to reality.

"Uh, well…" His voice was a bit hoarse. "Just, Firebolt."

Nick frowned at him with disbelief written all over his face. Pete knew his own face must be flushed, but he stubbornly stared at his friend, refusing to back down.

Fortunately, Nick was just as clueless about the Patronus charm as Pete was. Otherwise, he would discover Pete's extremely awkward crush.

A crush on the biggest rival of Gryffindor in Quidditch.

A crush on the Ravenclaw prefect, the Quidditch captain, and the Straight-A student—someone who should have been Pete's sworn enemy.

The crush on Tom Kazansky. 

Pete cleared his throat, grabbed the potion, and added two drops to the cup in front of him, trying very hard not to let his hands shake too noticeably. "We need to hurry, Goose, only a few minutes left."

That was true, though. Only five minutes later, the Prefect's meeting would start, as the time announced on the bulletin board, and they still had to sneak back to the secret room behind their dormitory.

Nick shrugged and let it pass. But Pete knew he would eventually ask about the love potion again.

He'd deal with it later, Pete thought. 

That was his life motto anyway.

Five minutes later, Pete stood in the empty common room, starting to doubt his entire life.

"Where is everyone?"

Nick shook his head, indicating he didn't know either.

"Then what was the point of all this preparation?"

"Preparation for what, Maverick?"

Great. Just fantastic. It seemed that fate had decided to make things harder for him, as Kazansky chose this moment to walk into the common room.

Pete cursed under his breath and slowly turned around.

Fuck. He shouldn't have done that.

Kazansky had just finished a round of Quidditch practice, it seemed, as he was still in his sweaty suit that clung to him. A few beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, sliding down beside his perfect lips and along his perfect cheek. His face was slightly flushed, probably from the exercise, and his breathing was a bit heavy.

Pete had to clench his fists to prevent himself from doing something stupid (like reaching out to touch Kazansky's hair, as he had been wondering if it was soft).

Kazansky took a step closer, tilting his head. The mint scent surrounding him made Pete a bit dizzy.

"What the heck are you up to this time?" he asked, leaning in further, fixing his gaze on Pete.

Pete would retort back, he really would, but that would have to wait until something meaningful solidified in his brain. For now, he could only stare into those icy blue eyes, desperately praying that his gaze wouldn't drift down to Kazansky's lips (or that he wouldn't be caught if it did).

The suspicious and slightly annoyed prefect mode somehow made Kazansky look even more attractive, which was unreasonable.

"We… got you some water!"

Both of them jumped at Nick's cheerful voice. Pete turned to see Nick holding up a cup of water.

Holding up that cup of water.

No.

He was about to speak when Kazansky interjected, "I don't believe that you guys would be so kind…"

Pete nodded vigorously toward Kazansky, at the same time trying to signal to Nick with his eyes that they were not gonna do this.

"Yes, that's right. Don't trust it, Iceman."

He wasn't ready to face Kazansky, who had taken the love potion and fallen in love with a stranger, even if it was just for a day, even if it was all fake. Whenever he tried to imagine Kazansky tenderly looking at someone who had a blurred face, smiling at that person, slender fingers holding the other's wrist, then slowly, slowly moving closer, gently giving the other a mint-flavored kiss, Pete felt his heart tightened suddenly as if he had just eaten the most bitter Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean.

"...But seeing you agreeing with my point of view makes me doubt again."

DAMN.

"It seems like your plan is to not let me drink this cup of water."

It's not. Not at all.

"Then I'm definitely going to drink it."

Seriously, how did Kazansky get into Ravenclaw with this only brain cell?

In slow motion, Pete watched Kazansky reaching for the cup.

He quickly raised his wand, intending to knock Kazansky unconscious, but the other easily deflected his attack, swiftly dodging to the side.

"Really, Maverick, Stupefy? Just for this glass of water?"

After speaking, Kazansky raised the glass and drank it in one gulp.

Pete stood dumbfounded, unable to speak or move. Kazansky licked his lips with his tongue, and put down the empty cup.

"Sweet, tastes like butterbeer. Wait, now it's kind of... like... like..."

Kazansky furrowed his brow, his gaze searching the room, then settling on Pete. Pete watched as the clarity in those blue eyes gradually faded, replaced by a strange, dazed determination.

"Pete."

Kazansky pronounced his name softly, as if it's a prayer, as if in murmured whispers, as if this name meant more to him than the whole world, as if this name was the only thing he wanted, as if...

As if it belonged to his lover.

No.

No!

Nonononono.

Pete took a step back, then another. He turned towards the wall to escape, but Kazansky strode over, grabbing his wrist with a searing warmth that clutched his pulse.

"Pete, don't go, I have something to say..."

"I don't wanna hear it."

"You... you don't want to hear it?..."

Pete froze, even though the blonde had already let go of him.

Kazansky sounded... soft. Cautious. Quite unsure.

Very sad.

Pete squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew he would regret this, but he didn't want to hurt Kazansky, even if it meant his own heart would shatter into a million pieces.

And this might be his only chance to feel what it's like to be loved by Kazansky, said the part of Pete's heart that was accustomed to self-deprecation.

He took a deep breath and turned around.

—And then forgot how to breathe.

While he was steeling himself for the inevitable, Kazansky had moved a few steps closer, trapping Pete between his strong body and the wall. Now there was only a breath's distance between them. Pete could feel the hot breath of the other brushing his cheek, making him shudder involuntarily. He had to lift his head to gaze into the eyes that had occupied countless of his dreams, eyes that were now looking back at him with endless affection.

Kazansky leaned down, his lips close to his ear.

"I remember you said you didn't want to hear it?"

Pete bit his lower lip to keep himself from making any embarrassing sound.

"So, you want to hear it now?"

Their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Pete felt the other's warmth, the scent of mint around them so heady that it clouded his thoughts.

He nodded.

Kazansky looked into his eyes and grinned broadly.

This was the first time Pete had seen him like this. Kazansky radiated pure joy, flashing his white teeth at him. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes, his nose slightly wrinkled, as if nothing would make him happier than Pete willing to hear him speak.

"I love you, Pete Mitchell. I love you so much."

Pete felt his eyes stinging with tears, but he fought to keep them open.

Tom was confessing his feelings to him. He couldn't cry.

Even if it was all fake.

"Really?"

"Really. I have been in love with you for so long. Ever since I saw you fly for the first time. No, ever since I saw you. I noticed you, Pete, you must have forgotten. But I noticed you in your sorting ceremony in the first grade. You were queuing up for your sorting, and I looked up and our eyes met. I was completely stunned at that moment. All I could think was that I had never seen such beautiful green eyes."

Pete hadn't forgotten.

During the sorting ceremony, he felt like others were all rumoring about him, so he was a bit lonely and scared. But he stood tall, chin up, putting on a brave look. Then, a blonde boy sitting at the adjacent table looked up, his clear blue eyes earnestly observing him. Somehow, Pete felt more at ease, walked with his head held high to the front chair, sat down, and then walked to the Gryffindor table, where he saw Nick smiling kindly.

"You were sorted into Gryffindor, I was a bit disappointed—though later, after getting to know you, I found out you were indeed not a Ravenclaw—but you made it into the Quidditch team. You know, every time I saw you on the Quidditch pitch, I couldn't help but stare at you. Pete, I just couldn’t focus. You flew like a maniac, but you're always laughing, tilting your head back to let the wind blow through your robes, always risking yourself to help your teammates out of trouble—although, to be honest, most of the trouble was caused by you. I've been secretly watching you all the time, and it's a miracle I haven't been knocked out by a Bludger yet."

It's unbelievable, Pete thought, that Kazansky hadn't noticed him staring back.

Oh. Then he remembered. It's just the Love Potion speaking. How could Tom really love him?

"Do you remember when Nick got injured last year? When I saw you then, I just wanted to reach out and hold you, tightly and never let go, to let you know that everything would be okay, to tell you I'd always be here, whether you wanted me or not."

He wanted. He wanted so fucking badly that it almost hurt.

"Can I..." Kazansky lowered his gaze to Pete's lips, then back to his eyes, "Can I kiss you, Pete? I've wanted to kiss you for so long, and that’s all I could think about sometimes."

Nodding was too easy. He didn't even need to say anything, just tilting his head slightly, and he would be meeting Kazansky's lips, to know if his kiss truly tasted of mint.

Everything he wanted was right in front of him.

The only problem was, it was all fake.

Tom's love was fake, Tom wanting to kiss him was fake, Tom's gentle gaze was fake, everything Tom said was fake, all because of that stupid Love Potion.

He could kiss Tom, but after today, the Love Potion would wear off, and he would return to a life without Tom, the only difference being that now he knew the feeling of the other's lips on his own. But he could never have them again.

This was your life, his inner voice began to mock him, always sabotaging yourself, always fantasizing about things you could never have, ending up with an empty heart trying to grasp ephemeral love.

"I want to kiss you, I love you, Pete, I..."

"Enough."

Pete blinked, ignoring the tear that fell at last.

"Enough, Tom. I'm sorry, but I can't let this go on any longer."

He raised his wand, hesitated for a moment, then raised his left hand to touch Tom's cheek. Tom turned his face into his palm, his gaze shifting to the wand.

"Although you won't remember..." Pete hated the tremble and choke in his own voice, "but I love you, Tom Kazansky."

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Pete didn't give him the chance.

"Finite Incantatem," he whispered.

Magic flowed from his fingertips, and Pete felt like a part of his soul had gone with it. He closed his eyes and only wanted to return to his room and sleep for three days after Kazansky left.

"...You love me?"

Pete opened his eyes sharply.

Kazansky hadn't left. He was frozen all over, unmoving as if turned into ice (excuse the pun). He looked at Pete, his face transitioning from disbelief to surprise, then ecstatic joy, then to cautious hope.

"You love me?"

What's wrong? Pete racked his brain, trying to recall the spell he had just cast. It should've worked, thinking of the Love Potion, pointing at the target, casting the spell, it should've broken the charm—though honestly, he spent most of his time in Charms class stealing glances at Kazansky instead of listening to the Professor.

He raised his wand again.

"...Finite Incantatem?"

Kazansky was still there, squinting his eyes at him.

"Alright, it is quite dubious now... Have you been under Imperio, Maverick? That could explain you saying you love me..."

"What? No, I haven't!!"

"He hasn't, I can prove that. It's you."

Pete was startled by Nick's voice. He had completely forgotten his best friend was still in the room. Kazansky took a step back. Pete turned to look, and Nick's face was a mix of awkwardness and amusement.

"I've been under Imperio?"

"No, no. More precisely..." — Pete closed his eyes, preparing for the impending embarrassment and heartbreak — "You've been under Veritaserum."

"What?"

"What??"

"The truth serum, the strongest kind, a precious baby." Nick held up the vial in his hand.

"But weren't we supposed to use Love Potion, Goose? How did it turn into Veritaserum? You clearly told me..."

"Where did you get the Veritaserum? This violates Educational Decree number thirty-five, I should hold you in..."

"...Carole's third aunt's second cousin has connections in Knockturn Alley? Wait, so you're saying this idiot here just..."

"...detention. Wait, Nick, he mentioned Love Potion? You were planning to give me a Love Potion? And this idiot here..."

"...drank Veritaserum? But he clearly said..."

"...did he also drink it? Because he just said..."

"...he loves me."

They said in unison.

Pete felt like all his thoughts had become a tangled mess in his mind. His breathing hadn't calmed down yet, and he could only stare at Nick in front of him, watching him raise his wand and point it at Kazansky, reciting the antidote spell for the truth serum.

Kazansky took in a sharp breath beside him.

"Although I didn't understand most of what was said earlier because you two morons were too loud, I heard the last sentence. Yes, you both said it. Now, I'm leaving this room. Firstly, because that will definitely be the most embarrassing memory of my life, even if I include the time I accidentally rode my broomstick into the Whomping Willow when dating Carole. Secondly, because I have some tasks to report." Nick gestured towards the door, "So… Enjoy yourselves. Don't ever tell me what happens."

"Report?" Kazansky asked, deliberately avoiding looking at Pete.

"Chipper and Sundown posted the meeting notice. Wolf and Wood got the special truth serum, Slider was mainly responsible for letting you know Mav is here."

"You..."

"We couldn't take it anymore, bud. If you two don't bone each other for one more second, we will all go crazy."

"So Carole wasn't involved after all?"

"Carole's suggestion was to snatch your wands and lock you both in the broom closet, but I thought that was too violent."

Nick winked at them and left the room.

In the silence, Pete felt his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He stood stiffly, his gaze fixed on the ground, feeling like his knees were about to give way any second.

He didn't know how to make sense of what had just happened. Should he pretend nothing happened and flee the room, taking advantage of Kazansky's distraction...

"Maverick."

Well.

The blonde hesitated, reached out a hand, and clasped his wrist. His pulse throbbed against Kazansky's palm, like a kind of declaration.

"Pete, I..."

"Do you really love me?"

"You are asking the floor?"

Pete raised his head, meeting Kazansky's gaze. His eyes had always been sharp, but now that light was soft with his long eyelashes slightly lowered. Like Pete was the most precious treasure in the world and he didn't know how to express how much he loved the person in front of him.

Pete knew this feeling so well.

"Yes, I love you, Maverick, Pete Mitchell."

"You think I can't get into Ravenclaw?"

Kazansky—no, Tom—rolled his eyes, furrowing his brow in feigned anger, but the curve of his lips gave him away.

"After all those heartfelt words I said, that's what you remember?"

Pete shrugged and tiptoed closer until their breaths mingled.

"I just want to make sure you remember what you said."

"Do you remember, then?" Tom tilted his head, brushing Pete's cheek with the tip of his nose.

"Remember what?"

"If you play dumb, I will leave now."

"Don't! Don't," Pete laughed, reaching out to wrap his arms around Tom's neck, "I remember. I love you."

"You didn't drink any love potion?"

"Seriously? Tom, you are my love potion."

Seeing Tom's expression like he had just eaten a whole lemon, Pete grimaced too.

"Sorry, cliché. But..." He pulled Tom closer. "...you like it?"

Pete tried to make it sound like a confident tease, but some insecurity seeped in and it ended with a slightly trembling question mark. Tom probably sensed it, because he reached out to embrace Pete's waist, leaning down to press his lips against Pete.

Pete closed his eyes.

"I love it."

Mint. he thought dimly. Soft, sweet, perfect minty taste that was exclusively his.

[judjira]

heyo it is ur friendly neighborhood joo !

it has been Quite A While since i last posted anything, whether on tumblr or ao3, but worry not! i am not dead yet, and i have no plans on being dead. i've been stuck for a while on writing, but i'll get to that in a bit.

for some reason, now that it's the end of the year, i took a moment to sit down and really just think about things, and i've come to one conclusion.

god, 2024 really sucked for me.

now, i know mindless rants and thought dumps like this aren't why you follow me or anything, but honestly, this is a writing blog, so i'm going to write. if you don't like that, boohoo (jk feel free to stop reading and go send that ask about when im going to update (fic) haha)

a lot of my friends like to say i give main character vibes, and that's not me boasting. genuinely i wonder what it is they see in me that makes them think that. maybe it's the way i tell stories about what happened to me, or how i can manage to keep up a conversation and seem like an extrovert, or just genuinely the way i live my life.

for context, i'm a freelancer doing events and theater, which means i have really, really strange work hours, and even stranger income. i suppose, to someone else, my life seems cool, leaving for work at 11 pm, going to different cities for shows, getting to meet celebrities in the industry and whatnot. and yeah, if i didn't work in this industry, i'd think that's pretty cool too.

but i do work in this industry. and god does it suck so bad. i try a lot to find the reasons why i keep doing my job, and it happens a lot like this:

i do a gig with a lot of hiccups, problems in management, toxic people, underperformance, and i consider quitting. then, something really great happens at the end, and i gaslight myself into ignoring my imposter syndrome and i keep working, waiting for another job.

so it's a lot like someone only giving me food when i'm desperately starving, just enough to keep me going for one day.

do i enjoy it? hell no. is it worth it? somehow, for some reason, at the end of it all, yes.

but the one thing i really don't like about it all is how it's affected my personal relationships. i take all responsibility for the way i act and the way i behave, but i'd be a liar if i said my workplace didn't influence me the way it did.

this year has been so full of ups and downs with my parents, my siblings, my girlfriend, my friends. i feel like, somehow, in gaining independence for myself financially, i somehow realized in the first place what i was so dependent on in my relationships. which sucks.

and to make it full circle, another thing i really don't like about it is how it's taken me away from my favorite hobby, which is writing.

i have missed out on writing for so long that it physically pains me sometimes that i'm away from my laptop and clicky keyboard, unable to pour my heart out onto some weird ass twice fic that barely anyone's gonna read. it might seem shallow to someone else, hell, probably to most people, but damn if writing isn't the one thing i come back to each and every year.

which, i think, brings me to my next point, which is i think i have to apologize for not being so active. i've made a lot of promises that i haven't been able to keep with my fics, and i have so many drafts that haven't seen the light of day. and i don't think it's just you people who read my fics that i have to apologize to, but also myself. i think i took writing too seriously and ended up having it weigh down on me more than it should have.

the whole point of this damn thing is to have fun, and to make sure other people have fun, and i don't think i've been having a lot of fun recently, honestly.

so, yeah. an apology. to you guys. and to myself. i think. im a fuckin weirdo.

but yeah, that's it for this rant. if you made it to the end, congrats! i'll be posting a s'agapo update soon, and i'm also working on the next out of bounds. after that, god knows what i'm updating. i'm gonna stop lying to myself and saying that i have an update plan when in reality i just write whatever's on my mind.

anyway, thanks for reading, and i hope you all have a very happy new year. love ya

[starcollectorsilas]

I'm SO sorry and I feel like such a loser for it sometimes but I really do just want to talk about the technical stuff behind the things I write sometimes. Both fanfic wise, poetry wise, and more recently music wise, but I always want to talk about the attention to detail, the foreshadowing, the way things change in the process of writing, the original concept vs the final product.

I really really hate it but my brain really is wired for literature, and there's nothing that can have me talking for as long as asking about the detail behind my fics. The only one you can really ask about without it becoming a nit-pick of all the flaws (which is never attention or compliment seeking, I genuinely don't like most of what I write or make) or talk about foreshadowing aspects without major spoilers is the (not so) perfect pair as it's complete and well thought out (in my opinion).

The music I'm working on currently, when the lyrics are written out they read as a love letter, which is intentional!!! but also you could ask about the specific ties that each lyric has– for example in 'Prophecies of the Morning Sun' the lyric "a single witness as heaven comes down" the implication is that (as the song is written as if from my perspective) my lover is heaven, and I (or, whoever was listening to the song) was the only witness to their arrival, or the only person to see them as they are.

And then, in the final verse "facing you to see heaven in your eyes" is supposed to tie back to the idea that in my (or, again, whoever was listening's) eyes, my lover is heaven to me. IT'S ALL INTENTIONAL (or maybe not, but it all connects in the end regardless).

Anyway I'm sorry, slight word dump over, I just really wish I had more opportunities to properly talk over what I do. I would love to write a long ass essay dissecting the (not so) perfect pair bit by bit but also. There is no audience for that lmao.

As the gold bleeds into grey is where I'm going insane over this specifically, as there is always some detail which I am trying to point out without having to explicitly state it, but I feel the need to make sure people know what I'm doing. Especially with the most recent chapter (chapter ten – spoilers) where Chuuya is leading Dazai through Yokohama while it's busy, and he doesn't want to show his concern that Dazai was still following by looking back to check on him, but he does so anyway because he loves him.

This is a reference to Orpheus and Eurydice, which is why the chapter is titled 'Orpheus and denial', because in this Chuuya is supposed to represent Orpheus, but he also refuses to admit he still loves Dazai (whether to himself or to Dazai is up for interpretation– he's complex enough that even I don't know) and it was driving me insane that I couldn't explicitly state 'Hey! This is a reference!' because that's not what I want to do!!!! Ugh. Sorry. Soooo not worth this but I am constantly thinking about it lmao.

I'm always adding little details like that, I'm always referencing canon and making decisions about certain numbers to use for things (such as their room being number 15 on floor 3. They met at 15 in canon, and knew each other for three years before the split at eighteen. There's also another reason for it involving 15 and 3 years which would be Spoiling It but there's another reason behind that choice too).

If you ask me, I can tell you what characters who are never even mentioned in the main story of tnspp were doing at different points in the story. My au's are SOOOO carefully thought out most of the time.

Anyway. Yap actually over this time. Sorry I should really talk less lmao

[fayerambles]

Hiya Faye! This is gonna a be bit long so feel free to not respond if you don’t want😅

Reading your most recent fic rn and I’m super excited to see what angle you go for with the chronic pain… I have a very similar condition (in my hips - multiple botched surgeries/procedures) and one of the most isolating parts, besides the actual pain, is generally just the lack of understanding that comes with having an invisible illness. To be a young, fit person experiencing that type of pain can make you feel more alone than anything, especially if you’re surrounded by other young healthy people who can’t even being to understand what managing pain is like.

My pain started as a young teen, so I had to grow up fairly quickly when deciding things like whether or not to go out with friends (do I want to be/have the time to be limping or bedwridden for days after?), who to open up to about it (will they empathize or see it as a hunt for attention?), and even talking to my parents about it was a task, as neither of them had chronic pain and they were both fitness buffs (they gave infuriating responses like “try going for a walk” lol). A lot of young patients with invisible chronic pain type illnesses end up isolating from those around them as a form of self preservation, clinging too tightly to the few people who may understand, or attempting to ignore and self manage their issue all together.

Yet, so many similarly situated people I know have just learned the push and pull of their own body. “I can work out in the morning if I don’t have anything else planned today in case I need downtime”, or “I’m going out this day and I want to wear heels, so I’ll take it easy for a day before and a day after”. This is kinda how I see Luigi’s behavior as he was still (very) active, but this can give people the appearance that there’s not a physical problem, and from my experience that is almost more isolating. Do you want to maintain an active lifestyle? Is it worth it knowing that pain will almost certainly result? Is it worth it knowing that it may make others not believe you when you are hurting? It can be a very complex and emotionally draining push and pull. (Again , from my experience and from people I’ve met throughout my ~12-15 years dealing with this)

I trust your writing because everything you’ve written has been amazing, but I am excited to see how you attack the nuances of this dynamic that a visibly young, healthy person can have with the feeling of being betrayed by their own body. Its enough to drive anyone mad or into self isolation. I hate to think that our sweet boyfriend ever had to experience it :(

Kinda an unorganized babble/mind dump (thanks for being my therapist lol) but I can’t wait to se what’s next from you! Much love💕

Hi! First of all, thank you for sharing this with me! 🥰

That is definitely something that has been on my mind from the start. I have a few ideas and I hope I won't disappoint you with the execution.

The idea here is that he's gonna be at rock bottom at the beginning of the fic and then she'll help him find a way out of the Deep Dark Hole™️. I think this is gonna be somewhere darker than Luigi has ever actually been (I hope), given what we know. But the goal is to maybe give people a little hope that things can get better, no matter how bad it gets.

Please, if you ever feel like I got something wrong or you think something could have been done better, let me know. Don't be shy or afraid to hurt my feelings or something. It's really important for me to know if the message is coming across as intended with this particular fic.

Again, thank you so so much for your message. It means the world to me 💚

[mssishipi]

sooo the last part of taste of indulgence made me cry at least three times....

i... i'm speechless yet i want to tell you so so much, i want to yap about how beautifully written this series is, i want to yell at you for making me sob, i want to gush over how you've captured the complexity and the realicism of polyamorous relationships, i want to melt over how absolutely mind numbing the smut was, yet i'm laying here on my bed, no thoughts head empty.

im gonna try anyway fuck it lmao.

first off, how dare you /j. like i seriously wasn't expecting a simple "mc can't feel good during sex until she meets them" in the first part to make me break down in a puddle in the last part bc it made me reflect on my own sexuality in a country and society that's still so hateful towards queer ppl like it made me spiral into an existential crisis and with so so many emotions that can only be described as i-want-what-they-have™

the fears of being perceived differently, of rejection and being misunderstood, of not being apart of, of taking up space, diverging into different paths and having the support system that sticks by you, god this was so so beautifully, skillfully written. the ups and downs of relationships, the little habits you showed, it all just feels so so real, you are a Phenomenal writer.

the part when mc went back to her parents and her being the middle child literally stabbed me in the chest and twisted the knife. like, i am literally her, the subpar, goes with anything, never outshines, never acts out, praised for being quiet, invisible unless speaks, I LIVED THIS LIFE. ma'am, respectfully, you're using me like a target practice and you're hitting the bullseye every time. pls have mercy :')

enough abt me trauma dumping LMAO i'm floored with how you write the complexities of love and how you're not afraid to show the sweet moments and the rougher parts. like at the beginning where we see mc still a couple months in the relationship, discovering how they bicker, mc saying 'i love you' for the first time, and towards the end where we learn about the messier fights, the insecurities, the lines they don't cross, i especially enjoyed how they discuss the future, whether that's their own personal careers or the family they'll build together.

none of these paragraphs even flow coherently but whatever, i gotta talk about the evolution this fic has gone through. like how this story went from 'gay couple experimenting' to 'hopeful throuple heading towards a bright future', it's crazy like the DEPTH you've put into each characters and their respective development, jay went from super stoic and nonchalant, to openly yearning for mc and speaking his thoughts, jake became less impulsive like how he waits for mc while consoling her, how mc's overthinking eventually mellows down the more secure and mature she grows, these characters are living and breathing in a different universe somewhere i just know, that's how real and human they feel.

few fics have me in a chokehold like this. i'm mostly a smut reader, so a memorable fic to me either has some crazy good smut or a damn good plot, and babe you gave me both and more (like the medical and academical terms i'm learning abt lol). i'm repeating myself like a broken clock here, but i can tell when a writer pours their heart into a fic and it feels like taking a peek into who they are as a person. your views on love, the lessons etched into the characters (jay being patience, jake being joy, and mc being empathy), it truly feels like a message your soul tells to the world. you're a story-teller in every sense of the word, pls live forever 🩵

HELLO?????? I AM CURRENTLY LYING FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR. SOBBING. SCREAMING. THROWING UP. WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO COMPLIMENT ME LIKE THIS??? 😭😭😭

"i can tell when a writer pours their heart into a fic and it feels like taking a peek into who they are as a person. your views on love, the lessons etched into the characters (jay being patience, jake being joy, and mc being empathy), it truly feels like a message your soul tells to the world. you're a story-teller in every sense of the word, pls live forever" STOP I'M GONNA START SCRIBBLING THAT ON MY WALLS IN BLOOD. NOBODY HAS EVER SAID SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFULLY ABOUT ME IN MY LIFE I'M FRAGILE PLEASE 😭😭

your reflection on the mc’s journey and tying it to your own experiences?? yeah that got me emotional. like, damn, that’s why i write—to connect. and you connected with it so deeply and personally, i’m actually speechless too. i’m so glad you saw yourself in the story, even if it hurt a bit, you're not alone in those feelings, and i'm giving you the biggest virtual hug.

thank you so so much again for sharing all this. i’m saving this forever. seriously. i’ll keep writing if you keep reading AND thank you for seeing me. like genuinely. in all this story and character mess, you saw me, and i will be obnoxiously grateful about that forever.

[somepsychopomp]

What got you into writing in the first place?

basically, I've always want to do it. No outside force compelled me to start, one day I just picked up a pen and started writing.

My earliest memories of writing started in middle school, so around the age of 12-14, though I'm sure I wrote my own little stories earlier than that as a small kid. By 16, I won an award for a short story of mine that I submitted to a contest for teens & was posting my first fanfics to Ao3. (That was back in 2016. If you actually look at my Ao3 tho, you'll find that my earliest fic is from 2018. I originally had fics from as early as 2016, but they were bad and for the Overwatch fandom and I got so embarrassed of them that I deleted them all at one point ���)

But anyway! I love writing! It's my bread and butter! And that's basically it. I write because I love doing it. It's fun, it's challenging, it takes a ton of time, consideration, and love, and as a result it's absolutely the most rewarding feeling in the world when I can finally cross that finish line and complete a fic/story!

There's nothing else in the world I'd rather do with my life than write.

The rest of the stuff under the cut is my fun little lore dump that I don't really think is necessary but if you wanna take a peek into my life, go ahead.

Beyond being a teen teaching myself how to write, I knew I wanted to be a writer even as a kid, so I decided I wanted to go to college to get a degree in creative writing and learn from teachers with far more experience than myself.

So I got my bachelor's in creative writing (with a concentration in Fiction Writing as opposed to Nonfiction or Poetry), and I went to grad school right after to get my master's in creative writing (with another concentration in Fiction). I finished grad school in October of 2024 and have been working on 2 original novels since!

I do also write poetry but that's a lot more personal and labor intensive for me, primarily because I wasn't taught to be a poet. I did take tons of poetry classes in college all about examining poems, studying poets, and writing my own poetry, and while I do love it, imo I never truly got the hang of it like the people whose concentration was poetry. In my heart & soul I'm a fiction writer and I know it. But I'm still trying regardless!

Aside from that, I really, truly, absolutely do love fiction writing with my whole being, especially speculative fiction! Horror, sci-fi, fantasy, you name it, I've studied the genre & written stories for it, whether they're original or for my fanfics. And someday, I want the world to know me for my speculative fiction, especially my horror novels.

And even though I want to be a "real" writer someday and have my published novels sitting on a bookstore shelf, I will probably never stop writing fan fiction. If writing my original works is like me fulfilling a job and putting my college major to good use, fanfic writing is my hobby and preferred mode of relaxation.

And even if my published works aren't super successful from a commercial standpoint, or if a fic I worked really hard on barely gets any attention, I will still always want to try again bc this is the only thing in my entire life I can confidently say that I love unconditionally & can do well.

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas. no need to assign me a anon name or anything! i already have one on here but i don't really want to use it because, well, that is vulnerability or whatever.

i recently started posting stuff that i write on here. i don't use my account for much, normally it's just reblogs. i think i have one non writing non reblog post.

and i know that numbers don't matter and who cares if people like my posts etcetera etcetera but i can't help but feel kind of .. down in the dumps about it? like maybe im not doing something right? whether if that's actually related to my writing or to my lack of knowledge of the tumblr tagging system, who knows.

idk. i just wanted to tell someone this. only 1 friend i have follows my tumblr and then i have a few other people on here but no one close, so i just wanted to let it out somewhere. no need to reply!

thank you for )potentially) reading my rant. i really appreciate it. please take care of yourself - remember to eat, drink, take breaks, etc. you're amazing<3

Hi! <3

I hope you don't mind that I decided to reply to this because I think a lot of people feel the same way as you.

Honestly, interaction has a lot to do with luck and knowledge, not just writing skill. There are so many AMAZING fics I read that have little-to-no interaction, and they're beautifully written- so much better than mine! I think it's a combination of just pure luck and also knowing how to tag the right way (which is basically just tagging a LOT. like. a LOT). That's why I try to post fic recs, because I know that a lot of my interaction is literally luck, and it's my job to pass that on to people who deserve it a while lot more than me.

Please don't beat yourself up too much about it. I promise it's not a sign of skill at all.

[florencemtrash]

i love love love your work and reading it has gotten me back into my love for acotar (and azriel shhh). im so inspired/tempted to start writing my own fics on here but i have no idea where to start or how to maneuver anything lol .do you have any tips?!

WRITING FANFICTION - my thoughts on how to get started (and others please feel free to chime in in the comments)

AHHHHHHHH YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DO IT!!! I encourage everyone who is interested to write fanfiction, even if you don't want to post things online, because I feel like fanfiction is the perfect avenue to a) have fun and b) practice any and all aspects of writing in a low stress way.

*cracks fingers* get ready for a brief rant about the glories of fanfiction writing

Fanfiction is such a beautiful way to get invested in a story. We already have our own interpretations of how characters look/act/their inner turmoils and struggles that might not get a lot of page time in the canonical works, AND for me personally, I'm always trying to find ways to insert myself into any media I read so fanfiction just feels like a natural extension of that and it honestly has improved my daydreaming skills for better or for worse.

It helps me escape my own thoughts and any troubles I have and I feel like I can grow as a person through the characters I read and write about.

Fanfiction is also great because you can pick and choose what aspects of writing you want to focus on improving. For me personally, I've always had issues with writing dialogue, but if I were to write something from scratch I would have to go through the efforts of creating a whole universe/characters/plot etc. etc so I would always get overwhelmed and just not write at all.

BUT! With fanfiction writing I can just take existing plots/characters etc. etc. and only write the dialogue for a scene I could make up in universe. AND because I'm writing existing characters that I "know", I have a framework for how they speak and can better gauge whether what I am writing sounds natural/realistic. Sometimes if I'm getting stuck on the dialogue I'll just write the lines for each character so I don't lose momentum and then later on I'll go back in and add the setting descriptions, dialogue tags, actions.

More concrete tips/steps you could take

So, I suppose if you're looking for a place to start and have a specific aspect of writing you have trouble with, you could always write short blurbs focusing on that skillset.

If you have issues with dialogue, just write dialogue. No descriptions/scenery. Nothing. If you have issues with describing settings you can always take the dialogue/actions from a scene of a book verbatim and then write around them. OR maybe if you have issues with characterization you could also take a scene from a book and then write from a different character's perspective. I just think it's a neat way to practice and something I've done in the past.

2. Write shameless self inserts. You know yourself better than anyone else and if you're interested in writing fanfiction, you're probably already a chronic daydreamer who's imagining what you would do in a fictional universe. May as well just write it down for the practice.

3. Start with short oneshots - I only started posting online about 7-ish months ago but I've been writing fanfiction since I was in middle school (so about 10 years now) and that's how I got into writing... and also I started out by handwriting the beginnings of trilogies but never getting past page 10 because I realized I was just copying the Hunger Games.

4. Don't be precious with your writing (see #3) and especially in the beginning I think people should prioritize quantity over quality. I think my writing has drastically improved since graduating college because I now consistently have time in the evenings to just write, even if it's "bad" writing. I also have a document titled "Dump it into the fires of Mordor" for my shittiest ideas and bits that I've cut out from other writing projects.

Other Tumblr-specific tidbits

Keep a google sheets to organize fics/taglists. I like to organize this way because unless you have a masterlist (which most people don't in the beginning), tumblr just has everything on one long scroll. So to get around this I have a google sheets where each column is one writing project with one row dedicated to links to the tumblr page, one row to commonly used tags, and the rest of the rows in the column are a list of anyone on my taglist for that project

Include more paragraph cuts than you think you'll need. This is a personal preference of mine, but because I read fanfics on Tumblr predominately on my phone where the width is narrower, extra paragraph cuts a) help me keep track of where I am in the story better and b) look more visually appealing - at least in my opinion

I'm still getting used to Tumblr myself and everyone approaches writing and using the platform differently.

BUT PLEASE DO WRITE IF YOU FEEL INSPIRED TO! Writing and posting fanfiction, and generally getting to interact with people, has been so much fun and I highly encourage anyone and everyone to do it.

Hmmmm, this ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. Whoops. Hope it was helpful though!

Love,

Florence B.

[goldenfox3]

I keep thinking I should be drawing instead of writing fanfics because at least drawing I can rationalize as practising for future portfolio pieces instead of "wasting time" on fics which will not lead me to anything but like I'm still flip flopping on whether I even want art to be my job at all because like if I feel demotivated to even draw personal pieces about characters I care about deeply how am I gonna draw stuff I don't care about. Lmao. Or is it easier to draw stuff I don't care about precisely for that reason? I don't know. I keep saying I'm going to draw things other than F-Zero fanart and I don't. I know I'm better than I was before. I know I'm improving. It doesn't feel good enough or fast enough even though I know there's no set deadlines or milestones in life besides death lmao. I feel like I'm having a midlife crisis and I haven't even hit 40. I know hobbies don't have to become monetized. I know their value is in the joy they bring you. I still feel like I'm screaming into the void while at the same time the void is also inside of me. Why am I here. What am I doing. Why did I go to postsecondary twice just to end up in the same place with nothing useful. Did I only go back for the comfort of having my path charted out for me for a while? I went to school to learn to make games but I'm just ok at coding just ok at art just ok at whatever but no studio is gonna hire someone who is just ok at everything and good at nothing lmao. And so I could go solo. But every time I think about trying to work on my pet project from there that my prof and classmates praised as meaningful I lock up and shy away like touching it will erode me or something.

Sometimes I look at Ryu and go your entire fate was decided for you but sometimes I envy that. The way his path forward is always so clear. I envy his conviction. I envy the way Andy always seems to have a handle on things. I crave Bart's advice or Ryu's steadfast support or Jack's way of making people forget their troubles. You always project a little bit of yourself into your writing but I wonder if my insecurities and desires show so plainly through the way I characterize them. I wonder if they become unrecognizable as I bend them towards what I want. Sometimes I just keep clicking between my stats page and list of fanfics page because it feels good to have a tangible record of things I've made and people who liked it even for something as meaningless as this. I've been trying to find a new job for months now and I haven't gotten anything but silence or rejection lmao. I could go back to my old job but the thought of going back to the trapped feeling I had before I went back to postsecondary and spending another 6 years there makes me want to crawl into bed and not come out. Normal people just suck it up and work why can I not do it I can do it I have done it I'm (mostly) able bodied and young and it's been months since I graduated I need to work I don't want to go back to hearing people's life stories dragged out onto recordings and legal proceedings as I lie to the lawyers' faces like not even the retail postings will get back to me which is like. I have a BSc and a Diploma and I still can't find another job lmao. All the shit I'm applying to rn is retail or admin/clerk shit and I'm like. So what did I go to school for. Lmao. I know not everyone ends up in their field but like. Lol.

I don't think I have any mental conditions besides anxiety which the psych found was not at disability level but I don't know if she was testing for like. Depression also lmao. Or is it just the struggles of job hunting in the current tough market getting to me. Sorry to dump this on my FZ blog of all places but I did mention FZ so ✌😔

[violets-and-books]

9, 13, and 23 for the ask game bestie 👀

Thank you for the ask, bestie!!!

9 - Do you write every day? Share some of your writing that you did today

I do write (mostly) every day, if I can. Obviously, clubs and that get in the way but if I can help it, I do. 2k a day at a minimum, it's quite fun

As of answering this, I just woke up, so I don't have anything from today to share with you, sorry!

13 - How much planning do you do before a fic?

Very little formal planning. Usually, I have a vague idea of where the big events in my story are going and I normally know how long it's going to take between them.

Very rarely, if the story gives me severe brain rot, you know what happens, bestie (I dump a load of ideas onto you in either an ask or in DMs). Or if I'm seriously trying to work out a kink in the plot, I'll probably write it down.

It's mostly a lot of silent showers staring at my own feet, locked in a vivid daydream

23 - How do you decide where a chapter ends?

Well.

You see.

I don't know? It all usually depends on whether I've hit my word count, though. Either way, I'll keep writing until, like, the conversation (?) of the chapter is finished, if that makes sense. Like, if the chapter feels like it wraps up nicely, I'll end it there. Or if there's a nice cliffhanger, I do love a cliffhanger

[glaivenoct]

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

Ask Box Trick or Treat - Fic Edition

Thank you for sending one in! Sorry I'm answering these so late too, but at least Halloween is still around the corner! (Its not the 31st for me quite yet)

Have a peek at a very old word dump that was always meant to be a part of a NyxNoct World of Ruin/fixit AU! It was directly inspired by the instance in FFXV Comrades when you pass by an NPC in Lestallum, who talks to another about how the search for Prince Noctis has been called off. I couldn't stop picturing this moment between Nyx and Cor the moment I heard it.

(Pls don't mind the way the first few paragraphs are written before the dialogue kicks in. I started this when I was having a writing slump, and sometimes I try writing a little differently just to get words unstuck. I haven't touched this in well over a year and just never bothered to fix it.)

(Pls also note I'd probably rewrite the hell out of this now, but it's not a bad start for just trying to get the words out.)

-

He will be returning to Lestallum from a mission. He will be bruised, sore and weary. He will overhear it in passing by chance - and it will drive him to the edge of hopelessness. 

“They called off the search for Prince Noctis! Without our King - ”

He will freeze in place, feeling suddenly hollow and as if a rug has been pulled from beneath his muddied boots. He will contemplate whether or not he is hearing things. If the phantoms in his nightmares have somehow found a way to haunt him the waking world. He will think that can’t be right. That the civilians don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, and it is nothing more than frivolous gossip to give the survivors of a dark, broken world something to do. 

He’ll know exactly who he needs to find to confirm the truth. Cor.

He’ll find Cor tucked away in a tent,  standing over a map and marking off areas on it. Cor will look up at Nyx, confused at the frantic manner he entered in. Nyx will be huffing both breathless and frustrated, dropping his backpack to the floor and looking at Cor in frustrated bewilderment.

“What the hell do you mean the search is off?”

Cor’s brows rise, eyes slightly widening in shock. Just as quickly, his jaw clenches and he glances off to the side, closing his eyes to sigh quietly. It’s all the confirmation Nyx needs. 

“You heard…” He says slowly, looking back up at Nyx.

“Not from you.” Nyx glares.

“I was going to tell you as soon as you returned.”

“And I’m here to tell you to call the search back on.” He shakes his head. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s been months and we’ve exhausted all traces of potential leads. The crystal is nowhere to be found. It brings me no comfort to do so, but we must move on.”

“He’s our King!” Nyx snaps, knowing Cor knows as well as he does that, for him, it’s more than that. Noctis might be everyone’s King, but he is solely Nyx’s whole heart. “We can’t just give up on him!”

“We’re not!” Cor snaps back, circling around the table to come toe to toe with Nyx. They both glare at each other, angry and frustrated with everything but each other. Angry and frustrated with the current state of the world and the choice it’s causing them to make. “You think I want to do this? You think I want to feel like I’m going to outlive another King after I failed the last one? I don’t! But take another look around you. We’re the last line of defense this world has. The last line of defense the people have. Noctis would want us to focus all our efforts and resources on protecting them. You know that as well as I do.”

Nyx knows. Really, he should know better than anyone, but he’s not ready. Not ready to take that step just yet. Not ready to put Noctis on a backburner and spend his days hoping he returns by some crystal given miracle or prophecy. There has to be another way. There must, but he won’t waste his time trying to convince the Marshal of it any longer. He doesn’t even necessarily fault him for this line of thinking. 

Cor, much like everyone else, is simply doing his best. Nyx knows he should respect that. 

Which is why the only thing he has left to say when he turns to swiftly leave the tent is, “I’m taking a walk.”

“Ulric –”

“I just need some time, alright? Don’t even think about sending Highwind after me.”

((p sure he's supposed to send Highwind after him eventually))

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

1, 3, 21, 26

1. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

Oh a lot of things I think, as I had not written in a long time and I kind of blacked out what I actually wrote previously. I wrote my first m/m, ot3 fics and my first smut. I might do it again. I'm not sure how good I actually am at it, so I'd never say never, but I don't have any particular plans at the moment. My first time writing whump (long time reader, first time writer) and I will absolutely continue to do that.

3. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

That I can work on multiple stories at once. And we’ll, that I can even write in general. I wrote based off one story that wouldn’t leave my brain and basically never stopped.

21. Share your favorite piece of dialogue.

Okay this was hard, I'm cheating and doing one silly:

“I know, but it’s still true. Sam, you're one of the nicest people I’ve met, and I treated you like shit. It’s instant caramel, innit,” Jamie says, wincing slightly as he moves the mug to his table. “Jamie, that is not true. Wait, did you say instant caramel?” “Yeah, because getting what you deserve sticks to you like caramel.” “Jamie, it’s instant karma, you know what, never mind. 

and one serious:

“Whether that’s normal or not, it is what it is. I didn’t expect you to come in, and I didn’t expect the note and Ted Danson, the little army guy you gave me. I didn’t expect it because you sent me away, Ted. I know; I was a prick. But I was trying. I really was. I mean, I sacrificed those boots my Mum got me. Richard dumped in some fucking sand, and I opened myself up for the first time since my Dad came back into my life, and I really fucking tried. I thought maybe that was enough to see that I was trying. I was going to do better, be better.

But then you sent me away, Ted. And well, that was worse because I was actually trying, and the next thing you did was send me right back to where my fucking Dad would be. Like, maybe he was right; maybe I got too soft, so I had to be sent back so he could take care of it. I thought that’s why you walked away. Because you said, you said you cared about us. But then you just fucking sent me away. So, yeah, that was worse than walking away. That was thanks for playing Jamie, but you’re just not good enough. That was thank you, but fuck you.”

26. If you had to choose ONE, what was the most satisfying writing moment of the year?

If I had to choose, I think it was just receiving my first review, like you read my little story that wouldn't leave my brain and took the time to tell me you liked it????? I will love you forever.