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whalesforhands · 1 year

Note

MY GOD YOUR GETO X READER X GOJI FICS SCRATCH AN ITCH IN MY BRAIN AND THE SHOKO CRUSH ADDITION?!?!? ABSOLUTELY DIVINE I TELL YOU!!!! Part 3 had me hurting ngl like ouch man but it inspired some angst *rubs hands evilly* what if one day after a tough mission reader is just feeling super down and tired and weak and is abt to cry and runs into Gojo and Geto who (not knowing any better) start teasing her abt her abilities and cursed technique etc not knowing her mental state and she just snaps and starts crying and yelling at them abt if all they think of her is a joke then they should just leave her alone instead of messing around with her feelings and runs off. Shoko is the one to find her and comforts her while Gojo and Geto are left gobsmacked and stricken with guilt. I’ll let you imagine how they realize what idiots they are and try to fix their huge screwup. Also I’m so glad you’re writing for Geto x reader x Gojo there’s hardly any fics on here with that pairing and not smut (not that I don’t love that too but I want PAIN and DRAMA and SHENANIGANS) and your fics give me just that so ty

anon i’m going to cry i finally got another ask. i thought ppl hated me bro. ur so cute for such a detailed and compliment filled ask, anon

i write 2 gs x reader bcs it never feels right knowing that they are without each other. i need them to be happy 😭😭

anyways, eat up

dread creeps around the corner (gojo x reader x geto, shoko x reader)

warnings: angst to fluff, y’all making me consider quitting smut writing to become a full time PG writer cause these are way more fun

You think the weariness of life is catching up to you.

Your body felt heavy, your feet dragging as your back was hunched over. Your staff strapped to your back as your eyesight started to blur.

Your backpack seems even heavier today too. You were sure you packed light.

Another mission, another near-miss. How many times would you be able to just make it out with your life? How many times until your luck finally ran out?

Why weren’t you improving? Why weren’t your techniques breaking past their limit quicker? What are you doing wrong?

Why are you so weak?

Perhaps you just aren’t cut out for savi- No.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts as you sense the familiar energy begin to surround you.

“Little Miss Barrierrrrrr!” An arm latched itself onto your shoulders as weight suddenly pressed itself down onto you, the sudden pressure causing you to stumble backwards, only for the arm to support you and keep you upright on your feet.

“How was your mission?” Gojo’s loud voice rang throughout your ears, it’s sheer volume grating and painful. His hand going round to the strap of your backpack, tugging it off of you and onto his own shoulder.

The other presence flanked your side, before you felt the weight of your staff disappear from your back, leaving you empty handed as the two sorcerers smiled down at you.

You took a breath in.

“It… It was-“ Horrible. Tragic. You survived by the skin of your teeth once again. You struggled to find the strength to describe it in more detail.

“Fine.”

Gojo grins as you felt Geto’s hand pat your head.

“Sounds like code for, ‘You struggled!’” He laughs, patting your back. “My Six Eyes tell me your cursed energy barely improved after that mission too. Should I ask Yaga to assign you harder ones? Maybe with us?”

Your body stills. It… Barely improved? You gave that mission your best shot.

You heard Suguru laugh as he smacked Satoru’s arm, ridding his arm off your shoulder as he replaced it with his own.

“It’s alright,” Suguru began. “Don’t listen to him. Improving takes time anyway.”

Takes… Time? How hypocritical does he have to be to tell you that? He, along with the gifted Gojo Satoru, had immense cursed energy from the beginning. Their talent innate, their improvement expedited with little to no training.

Self-sufficient, talented, never having to try too hard to far surpass the standards of average. Exceptional. Things that you never were, never will be.

Frustration had built up, your emotions starting to light aflame. With desperation, with aggravation. Why did it always feel like they looked down upon you?

“Helloooo? Earth to Miss Protection? Ya there?” Gojo waved his hand in front of your face.

Seeing no response, he reached a hand out to caress your cheek.

“Gosh, if you’re going to be so distracted, I might just ki-“

You slap his hand away before he could touch you. Eyes alight with anger, you looked straight at him, throwing Geto’s arm off your shoulders.

“If you think I’m so weak, then just leave me alone!”

The air grew tense. Your tears were beginning to well up.

“I- I know I’m weak, okay?! You don’t have to rub it in all the time! B-but I’ve tried! I’ve tried too hard for you to tell me that I’m not doing enough!” The dam broke, your cheeks streaked with your tears as your stutters caused you to grow embarrassed.

Why can’t you even express your anger more courageously?

You turned tailed and ran away. Your sobs making themselves more apparent the more you ran, the more your legs burned.

You were such an embarrassment.

Settling by a creek, your legs bundled up to your chest as you cried into your knees. You don’t know how long you’ve been here crying your stress out. Your eyes were puffy, stress not leaving your body as you sat still, listening to the gentle pitter patter of the rain beginning to fall upon you.

Can the day really not get any worse?

You wanted to laugh at yourself as you felt the rain begin to drench your uniform. It was your last clean one. You need to do the laundry again soon.

As the rain poured down on you, it suddenly stopped. A shadow had overcome your figure, providing you shelter.

Cigarette smoke and a hint of a citrusy fragrance.

Shoko.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You stay silent. You didn’t expect to be found. Nor did you even feel like talking right now. You bury your face deeper into your folded arms, trying to hide. You don’t want to be seen as weak by Shoko.

It stays that way for a moment. Silent, besides the gentle patter of the rain.

“It’s not,” She began. “It’s not weak to cry when you’re sad. Not in front of me.” Assurance. She was comforting you.

You felt her settle next to you, getting her skirt wet.

She gently adjusted your head to rest on her shoulder.

“Cry all you want. I’ll be here.”

And you did. Sobbing, fingers digging into her uniform as your tears and snot mixed into her clothing.

You didn’t notice her other shoulder getting wet with rain as she held the umbrella up over the both of you.

——

You were holding her arm with both of your own as she walked you back to the dorms.

You were ready to take a shower, collapse onto your bed and cry even more. Too much stress has built up.

What you didn’t expect was to see the duo settled on your carpeted floor.

They scrambled up to their feet almost instantaneously.

You sniffled, your eyes red and weary as you held Shoko’s arm tighter.

Geto spoke first, a hand of his outstretched to touch you before he willed it back to his side. “I- We’re very sorry. It wasn’t our intention to hurt you.”

He never wanted to make you feel inferior.

Gojo’s eyes were downcast, sight seemingly stuck to the floor before he raised his gaze to be directly looking at you.

“You’re not weak. You just need more training.”

Geto elbowed his side as you heard Shoko sighed exasperatedly beside you.

“Ow!” The white haired sorcerer exclaimed. “Oh, and uh, I- I’m sorry… Too.” He rubbed at his torso where Suguru had landed his hit.

“Hopeless…” You heard her murmur. Strangely, you didn’t feel taken aback by Gojo’s seemingly insincere apology.

You found it funny. You giggled, desperately trying to not let them see as a hand came up to slap itself over your mouth, your eyes beginning to light up with joy.

“It’s-“ You tried to speak through your silent laughter. “It’s- Okay.” Getting ahold of yourself, you remove your hand.

“I forgive you.” You smiled.

“We bought you pizza as an apology by the way.”

“You’ll join us, right?”

masterlist

Note:

Geto, Gojo and Shoko thought your laughter was cute, especially after seeing how hard you cried.

Surprisingly, Geto and Gojo were fighting over who was to pay for the pizzas. They both wanted to pay for you. Shoko watched, amused by their fighting as she paid for it at the counter whilst they were too busy wrestling.

You never thought you’d get so hungry after crying so hard. You ate nearly half of the whole damn thing before Geto went to order some more.

Gojo thought it was adorable how you were stuffing your cheeks like a pig.

Shoko licked some sauce off your face as you were eating, you blushed so hard and told her she’d make an amazing wife.

“Just because of some sauce?!?! I can do that too-!”

#geto x reader x gojo #geto x reader #gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader x gojo satoru #shoko ieiri x reader #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #satosugu x reader #dyf au

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apprenticestanheight · 2 months

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Good News - Chainshipping

Ooooookay!! This was born of an idea I had m o n t h s ago but then I tried to write it (I feel like it's one of the chainshipping fics I have here but I can't remember) and it went in a different direction and, as I usually tend to do, I gave it as close to a happy ending as I was willing and able.

This, however? nah. I haven't cried for a serious reason (this is very serious to me!!) in a good bit so. here we have this. To the anon who sent in a req for heavy chainshipping angst, the concept of this fic was brought back around into the handy dandy mental space because of you and I hope you like it!

Title was riffed from the song Good News by Julien Baker, by which this fic is not directly inspired (I listened to it while writing this fic,, at least the start) but might have a similar vibe to.

Fic type - this is straight out angst with maybe a cathartic and kind of hopeful end?? idk but I know that it's all angst until the last scene and even then, the angst is still present there.

Warnings - mentions of drugs and drug use (morphine is mentioned once in a hospital setting and weed is mentioned a lot), addiction is referenced (both in Gabrielas case and also in Adam talking about being borderline addicted to his pain meds and his weed dependency not being a dependency but more an addiction), and this is fairly time-jumpy bc every scene takes place at a slightly different time than the last, which is clarified! The second half is probably not that great in terms of proofreading and editing, this one is hot off the press (I finished it, went to type up the authors note, and rushed to post bc I want this out of my brain) and might not be super good bc I don't doubt that I've missed a few things.

The first thing that Adam registers when he wakes up is a white-hot, raging pain that starts in his shoulder and manages to radiate down his arm til it reaches the nerve endings in his fingers. The second thing he registers is the feeling of someones hand, holding tightly onto one of his own--not the one that's in pain, thank fuck--and the sound of their breathing, somehow both quick and laboured at the same time.

The third thing he registers is a tube shoved down his throat. The second he registers that, the anxiety sets in. He forces his hand out of the grasp of the person who's holding onto it and tries to grab at the tube like his life depends on it, because for a second, he feels like it does.

"Adam," a voice whispers. He blinks his eyes open, turns in the direction of the voice, but it takes a few seconds for the image to blur into focus. "Adam--it's a breathing tube, keeping your lungs from collapsing. Relax, honey."

He stills when he realizes who it is. It's his mother, who he hasn't seen in almost a decade.

He glares at her for a second, but then he hears the resoundingly soft click! of a button, and five minutes later, a glorious-adjacent high sets in. Adam figures out as the haze takes him over that a morphine button is somewhere near his bed, is grateful for it despite the lingering confusion.

"Rest up," she says. "I'll be here until you fall asleep, okay? And I promise not to bug you after. I just heard you'd been found and I needed to see that for myself."

Adam lets sleep take him over--he's pretty much confined to his bed, and while he hates it, he knows he has no other choice, really, and the exhaustion creeps up on him before he can even register it.

A few long weeks go by, and by the time he's discharged from the hospital and complete with the necessary physical therapy to rehabilitate his arm and make sure his shoulder is working right, it's the very beginning of December.

Part of him wonders where Lawrence is--did he make it out? Was cutting his foot off worth it in the end? They're things he wonders about late at night, when the insomnia takes over and he resists the urge to climb out onto his fire escape and smoke as many joints as he can in order to sleep without fucking up his liver.

He doesn't go to therapy right out the gate, doesn't even think to do it for those first few weeks, when his doctor is checking in on him every single morning when their shift starts and every evening when it ends, when a psychiatrist comes in once every few days and tries to help him process the memories that he'd taken to vehemently avoiding.

But then, on the walk home from one of Scotts concerts, he sees an ad posting for a Jigsaw support group. It's the next day, runs from seven to nine, and the church basement it's held in is only five minutes down the road from his apartment.

He decides he'll go, part of him gunning for the mere thought of seeing Lawrence--a Jigsaw support group would be exactly the kind of place Lawrence would go after experiencing something so traumatic as the goings on of that bathroom. It's the one surefire spot Adam is betting on, but he tries to stop himself.

He doesn't know what's happened to Lawrence, not really. Lawrence hasn't reached out and Adam has made no effort to do the same for fear of rejection. He figures he could ask around at the support group, holds onto the off chance that someone there knows him or at least knows what happened, somehow.

As he gets undressed, opting to wear a pair of sweatpants and a basic black shirt, he knows that he, realistically, has no valid reason to speculate on the state of Lawrences well being, if there even is a well being upon which to speculate. If he wants to hear from Lawrence--which he does, more than anything--then he can do either of two things. He can wait for Lawrence to reach out, or he can try to do it himself.

He goes to sleep, telling himself he'll look through the phone book before he goes to work tomorrow.

Looking through the phone book doesn't yield much--it yields a number with a voicemail that hasn't been updated since the mid-nineties, at least, which is enough to make him laugh depressedly because mid-nineties Lawrence is not the Lawrence he knew, but the one that had existed about five years beforehand.

The support group meeting is, surprisingly, decent. He sits, for two hours, in a room full of people who understand what he's gone through. He shares his own story for the first time, breathes himself through the roughened edges and the sharp points that threaten to stab him in the chest when he thinks about it.

Talking about it, he realizes, is good for him, like the psychiatrist had said it might turn out to be. He goes home feeling the full weight of that day, which is something that he hates more than he hates himself, but he also feels a little vindicated.

The next two meetings go like that as well--Adam talks, warms up a bit slower than butter left on the counter to thaw after having spent many-a-week at the bottom of a large-capacity freezer.

At the end of December, the day after Christmas, it's the groups last meeting of the year and the first with a newcomer since Adam came along at the beginning of the month.

The newbie sits next to him, and he doesn't really bother to notice them, figures he'll pay more attention when they speak a little bit and focuses instead on sipping his coffee, focuses loosely on the delight he feels at the thought of the support groups carrot muffins that they bring out for people to eat at around 8:30, at which point the group kind of disperses to talk amongst themselves.

The instructor is a guy named Paul, and he's 35 and balding. He claims to be one of Jigsaws first survivors, having been tested around '99. Adam doesn't really believe it--Jigsaws first recorded victim would've been around early 2000, if a little bit later into that year, but he digresses. If someone or multiple someones want to pretend to be his victims, Jigsaw and his followers will take matters into their own hands eventually, be it in the name of revenge or some twisted kind of retribution.

He notices the newbie, and like he did when Adam was new, he singles her out in a way that she probably won't realize was him doing so until later, just like Adam had that first meeting.

"My name is Gabriela," she says. "I'm from Mexico. I came to New Jersey to get away from my life there--I couldn't take it."

The admission makes Paul smile softly, nod like he understands even though Adam knows, from his New Yorkian accent, that it's the farthest he's travelled between there and Jersey.

"And we're all here to support you through your troubles," he says. "Why were you tested?"

"I'd rather not--" Gabriela pauses. Adam looks at her, studies her, and sees a few scars lining her face. "I was cruel to him. I was part of the Pederson project and struggled with an addiction. He tested me and my friends at the beginning of October. Most of them died."

"The Pederson project?" Paul asks. "Whats that?"

"Something--" tears well up in her eyes, and Adam, on impulse, reaches a hand out and grabs hers. She looks at him then, stark brown eyes meeting his own. Adam has a thought that she looks like a deer in headlights. "I--I was desperate for money. I did what I thought I had to do, and then he made me pay the price."

"I lost someone too, I think," Adam laughs. "My trap mate. His name was Lawrence, and I can't figure out if he's alive or not. I watched him cut off his foot."

Gabriela smiles. Adam glances at Paul, briefly, and shrugs.

"Maybe she won't be as quick to open up as I was," he says. "Give her time."

Paul nods once, and their interactions end. Gabriela keeps a hold on Adams hand and Adam lets her, remembering what it was like in those first couple of weeks after--hell, he's still technically in that rough spot, but it's at least a little better than it was, even if it's still shit.

Yeah, Adam can't really take showers or baths yet, and yeah, that means he's had to use strawberry scented make up wipes to keep himself smelling not-rancid, and dry shampoo to keep his hair from being a greasy mop on his head, but it's better.

His shoulder hurts all the time, but it's not the pain he woke up with that first day. Every nightmare is worse than the last, but at least he's getting two hours of sleep a night now instead of a maximum of 30 minutes. He has to go against himself, go against his natural sense of pessimism and he has to choose optimism or he won't be able to keep going.

Optimism, taking the wins where he can, is what has kept him going for the past ten weeks. It kept him sane when he was trapped in the dark, and it's kept him sane ever since.

When the meeting ends, Gabriela stays close, which is something she's trying to be covert about but Adam notices. He doesn't let it irritate him as he gets more coffee, as he eats his carrot muffin and talks to Amanda Young, a girl who'd been in a trap only a few weeks before he had. He stays behind to help Paul and the others stack up their chairs and sweep the floor just in case, and Gabriela winds up staying.

She finally gets the nerve to talk to him about two seconds after he's left the church basement, has gone to sit in the pews that are empty of anyone. He hates churches, normally, but this one is oddly comforting when it's either nearly or totally empty. It's quiet in the same way the world is after snow has fallen, which is a quiet Adam has long appreciated.

"How do you deal with it?" she asks. She's sitting in the pew behind him, her hood tucked over her head to cover her hair. "I've been trying to since the start of October, when it happened, and I just--I don't know how."

"Well, first off, Jersey was about the worst place you could've wound up in," Adam laughs a little. "Most of his crimes take place in and around the general area of Jersey, but he's not the type to test people twice, as far as I know, so don't let my assholery get to you too much about that. Secondly, I'd probably argue I'm not much better than you. I was addicted to nicotine when I went in, and I've come out with something a bit worse for my liver and my lungs both."

It makes Gabriela laugh. "I'm at the hospital a lot for skin grafts," she says. "I got insurance, somehow, so I'm not drowning in debt, but I had to tell them I couldn't have any pain medication for after. I even thought anaesthesia was risky for some time."

"I had to call and get my medical bills reduced to a point where I could pay them off," Adam says. "I work in a bookstore now, and I have insurance from them as of the new year. It'll cover my meds, which I'm grateful for. We got some pretty short sticks in the game of life, but we didn't get the shortest ones."

"You don't seem like an optimistic person," Gabriela says. "You don't look like one, I mean."

"I'm not, usually," Adam says. "But until I hear that my trap mate is dead, I'm gonna choose to be optimistic because he would want me to be, dead or alive. Until I have proof that he's gone, I'm going to keep my optimism lined up with the idea that he's alive at the forefront of it's existence."

"What if he's not?" Gabriela asks. "What after that?"

"Then--fuck, I don't know. I become pessimistic and nihilistic, I guess? Jigsaw tests me again, maybe, if it gets that bad. I think, if he does, I'll fail on purpose that time. He'd better make damn sure that it's fucking fair that time around, though--no leaving the key to my chained up foot in the full fucking bathtub again, or I'll survive it just to spite the bastard."

Gabriela laughs again. Adam gets up and walks home, back to his sad little apartment.

He has to roll and smoke two over-the-top joints just to not spiral, conks right the fuck out at 9:45 on the dot.

It's the middle of January when Adam gets something in his mailbox. He grabs it along with the newspaper and doesn't really check the labelling on either, too caught up in the idea of checking his voicemails after remembering he has a landline that he hasn't used in five months, since he'd gotten a cheap Motorola and used that to make most of his calls.

So, he drops the mail on his kitchen counter top, grabs the landline and checks his voicemails.

The first couple are from his mother, one of which was back around when he was in the trap--sent a few days before, one he could halfheartedly remember giving a listen to before he was taken. His mother telling him his father wasn't angry anymore, like that would even begin to make up for a decades worth of anger from Adams childhood up until when he left.

It's the most recent one that gets his attention whip-quick. "Hi, Adam," it's Lawrences voice--not mid-nineties Lawrence, either. Lawrence from that day or at least a week or two after, the one Adam knows.

"I don't know if you were expecting this call, or if you'll even pay any mind to this voicemail, but I found your name in the phone book, and I heard you'd been rescued, and I just--I needed to call, okay? You don't have to understand, that's fine, but I just wanted to make sure you understood how sorry I am. I'm sorry to have left you to die like that, and I can't even begin to think about all of the ways you've been affected in the aftermath without getting anxious palpitations. I should've found a way to save you, and I'll regret not having done so for the rest of my life, okay? I just wanted to make sure you knew that I regretted it, and to make sure you understand that if I could go back and do it differently, I would do so in a millisecond without a moments hesitation."

Adam is so relieved to hear his voice that he almost cries--Lawrences voice is rough on the edges, ooey-gooey and warm at the centre, and it almost does him in completely.

"In another universe, I go ahead and visit you instead of leaving you a voicemail like a damn coward, but that's not this universe, and I'm sorry for it. You don't need to call me back, all right? I just needed to call and make sure I said my peace."

The voicemail beeps and ends and Adam hangs up the phone, fights the urge to lose his mind a little but keeps himself in check just long enough to check his mail, read the letter addressed to him.

It, shockingly, is from Alison, Lawrences wife.

I had a PI locate your address, it reads. He's in the hospital--his leg got infected and it spread like wildfire. I'd come and see him before the month was out if I were you, but if I'm being honest, I really don't think he'll make it more than another week. Come as soon as you can, to give him some peace of mind. He's staying at Saint Mercy-East, and the receptionist has been told to let you in when you come around.

Alison Baker (formerly Gordon)

Adam gives in. He lets himself cry until he can't, knows that he'll have to call into work just to see Lawrence. He has to do it. Lawrence is alive, if just barely, and he needs to see him in person one last time before the only rendition of Lawrence that he can see is a headstone.

Witnessing a person in palliative care is a lot more nerve-wracking than Adam first expects. Lawrence is barely awake, occasionally shifting in his hospital bed, and his skin looks grey and sullen. His breathing is laboured and a little loud, and when Adam looks at him, he feels himself cracking just a little. Adams heart breaks as he sits in the plastic chair to Lawrences left, grabs his hand and holds onto it as tightly as he thinks he can handle without breaking down.

"Hey," he whispers. "I just wanted to come down--Allison told me where you were staying, what had happened with your leg, and I figured I'd come and see you for at least half an hour."

Lawrence stills.

"I'm just gonna talk for a bit, okay?" Adam laughs at himself. "I've never done anything like this before, so I don't really know what to do."

Lawrence looks at him. His blue eyes are dull and gray and so sorrowful that it damn near kills Adam from the inside out. He realizes that Lawrence probably knows he's not got long left, if his infection has left him that lucid. Lawrence Gordon, someone who used to be sarcastic and quippy and so full of life, Adam heartbreakingly realizes, very likely knows he's dying.

"You seemed to want me to be okay in the voicemail you left," Adam says. "I just--I want you to know that I am. I'm on meds because of chronic shoulder pain and I deal with my earned amount of PTSD stuff, but I'm okay. I work in that cute little bookstore across the way from the Aldi near the heart of the city, the one that looks real small on the outside but inside is actually kind of huge? It's called Romeros, and I've got insurance and PTO and all of that shit."

Lawrence smiles gently. Adam keeps going.

"I take photos of stray cats pretty much exclusively now," he says. "And I go to a support group to help me deal with the PTSD stuff. If you've been worried, you don't need to be anymore. I'm on the path to learning how to be okay, and it was just really important to me for you to know that. I don't want to lose you when it feels like I've just gotten you back, but this is probably gonna be the only time I visit. I love you, dude."

Adam squeezes Lawrences hand just a bit tighter.

He stays with Lawrence from the beginning of visiting hours til Lawrences heart gives out near their end. Adam watches, in a panic, as the doctors go about protocol for a DNR.

In the end, Adam is still in the room when a nurse says the unthinkable.

"Time of death: 18:04 PM, January 15th."

And then, just like that, Adam has to face a reality he's spent the last several months not wanting to confront, hating the very idea of.

Lawrence Gordon is dead. He's gone, and there's nothing Adam can do about it.

Adam can't pull himself together enough to go to the funeral. He receives an invite in the mail initially, then a copy of Lawrences obituary and the address to where he's been buried a few weeks later.

Grief, he finds, is an ugly little thing. It makes him a bit more dependent on the weed than normal, closes him off at the support group and makes him volatile on his worst nights because he hates it. He hates that he has to grieve at all, really.

Lawrence had managed to survive that bathroom. He'd mustered up the strength to cut his own foot off, and God repaid him with an infection of what remained of that leg spreading through his body and killing him? He'd survived cutting off his own foot just to die four months later? That feels like bullshit to Adam, and he hates it.

Eventually, when the anger isn't all consuming, he leaves his apartment. He stops and buys a few flowers from a convenience store, and then he goes and visits Lawrences grave.

LAWRENCE GORDON

LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER, AND SON

He sets the flowers down, reads the lettering engraved on the stone.

"I've been dealing with a lot since you passed," Adam says. He sits down in front of the head stone, careful in the motions. He runs his hands over a newly buzzed head, the hair having grown out past it's due and the cheapest option having been to take a pair of clippers to it instead of getting it cut. "Uh--I just kind of wanted to stop by for a second. I don't know if I'll ever do this again, but I kind of thought I owed it to you a little bit."

Jersey is riding out the coattails of winter now, the grass dotted with snow, but Adam doesn't really care. It's sunny out and there's an icy breeze to go with it, but it's a nice day, everything else considered.

"I've been closed off from it all--I hate thinking about you right now because your death feels like bullshit," Adam laughs. "You survived everything from that day, just as well as I did, and yet you're dead from an infection in your stump that'd radiated through the rest of your body before you could stop it, and I'm still alive. You're dead and in the ground and I'm alive and borderline addicted to the pain meds I use for my shoulder and so dependent on weed that it's long teetered past a dependency. It feels unfair."

If anyone, Lawrence should be the one who got to stay alive.

"Up until you died, after the support group was done, I'd leave the church basement and go into the church itself. I'd always sit in an empty pew and just watch," he says. "They had a candle vigil at the front, and sometimes survivors who'd gone to the support group would light candles for their trap mates who hadn't made it. I have a friend, Gabriela, who lights candles after every meeting. She whispers their names, too. Valentina. Mateo. She even lights one for the only other not-jackass survivor, named Diego."

He feels really dumb. Like--the dumbest he's ever felt dumb, but he just keeps talking.

"I don't know if I'll ever do it, but I think someday I might. Alison hates you, even though she was kind to you in your last days, and both of your parents are gone, so it kind of feels like I'm the only person who knew you that can remember you without feeling disdain. If I light one of those stupid little tea candles, you'd better show me a fuckin' sign, even though I don't believe in that shit. I love you, Lawrence, but I'm not going to risk burning my finger on a Dollar Tree match if you don't make it worth it."

He laughs at himself, shakes his head. "I'm going to go to a meeting," he says as he gets up. "Maybe open up a little bit. Have fun doing whatever it is your doing on the other side of this God awful, relentless mortal coil."

Adam doesn't open up in support group that day--the wounds are still too fresh to bear, and he doesn't think he'll be able to talk about Lawrence for another very long while, but at least he admits it to himself.

He follows Gabriela to the vigil that night, though. She has an arm around his waist, holds onto him like she's scared he's going to fall apart. He's a bit scared of falling apart, too, if he's honest, so he just lets her.

She lights a match, goes about lighting the candles one by one. Valentina. Mateo. Diego.

She blows the match out, passes Adam the matchbox.

He takes it, strikes the match alight with the sandpaper on the side, and picks the candle closest to his right.

"Lawrence," he says gently as he lights it.

It doesn't feel like closure--not exactly, anyway--and he's sure nothing ever will. He knows that he'll feel pain every time he thinks of Lawrence for the next while, at least, but he has to learn to be okay with that or the pain will never go away.

That match, that candle? He knows they're just the first steps and that he has a long way to go, but he's fine with that. His grief and everything that's come of it can take as long as they need, he decides. He'll give himself a little bit of grace and allow at least that.

#adam stanheight #adam faulkner-stanheight #adam stanheight x lawrence gordon #lawrence gordon #chainshipping #saw (2004)#saw 2004 #saw posting #sawposting

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ichoosechoasandbeingqueer · 2 years

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Hello! I'm not sure if you are taking requests atm, so please feel free to ignore if you aren't! If you are, though, would you be so kind as to write for Dwalin with a female hobbit reader who is terribly shy yet always sticks with him because she likes him? Thank you before hand! ❤️

Hello anon and thank you for your ask!

I’m sorry its so short, I’ve reread this so many times that i absolutely hate it so I’m posting it to get it out of my system. I’m in a real writing slum at the moment and nothing I make seems to inspire me at the moment so I will probably write another story on this when I’m more creative. If you want to message me privately so a can tag you when that come out feel free or if not, just keep an eye out for that too.

Warnings: none

Always There

Dwalin swung his axe over his head, bringing it down with force into the log he was keeping still with his left boot. He grumbled to himself miserably at the use of his fine war weapons being used in such a mundane way, but the thought of a nice hot dinner after a full day of riding made him swing again. The wood split easily against the sharp end of his blade and he nodded his head in approval.

That was when he noticed it, the scurrying sound of feet around him. It had become a familiar sound to him at this point of the quest, the smallest member of their party scurrying around him. He thought it would annoy him a first, having the hobbit lass constantly by his side, but now as he watched her pointed ears bounce as she moved and her fuzzy toes curl themselves into the dirt as she collected kindling, he found the hovering endearing. He even took a certain amount of pride that despite his fearsome demeanor and rough personality that it was him of all the dwarves the girl had seemed to open up to the most. If he was with the ponies, so was she. If he was collecting fire wood, she was there to help him. If he was simply laying about, she was laying somewhere close by. The two had bonded with wordless nods and her shy blushing smiles and now Dwalin didn’t know what to do without her with him. He felt lost in her absence.

The dwarf lifted the stacks of wood onto his shoulder to carry back to camp enjoying the way she watched him out the corner of her eye. He let out a grunt to catch her attention and she picked up one last stick before following him back to camp. She hummed as they walked, a tune Dwalin didn’t recognize but quiet enjoyed listening too, and as they unloaded their haul and sat down to rest to tune was still going.

“I like that one,” Dwalin interrupted as he leaned back against a stone he had found, “s’ nice,”

The lass paused, red creeping across her cheeks making Dwalin grin at her shy expression.

“An old tune my mother used to sing in the garden. I’m afraid I can’t remember the words after all these years but it was one of my favorites growing up,”. He hummed in reply, surprised as she continued, “Do you have any songs that you favor master Dwalin?”

“Well…” he thought out loud, “There is one. But its in Khuzdul so I can’t really sing it for ya,”

She gave a small nod, “Oh right, dwarven ears only. I wouldn’t want to getting in trouble with your brother now would I?”

Dwalin pulled a face and snorted, remembering the lecture Kili received from Balin a few days ago after he taught Bilbo how to swear in the secret dwarven language.

“Balin’s lectures are the worst, poor lad was there for over an hour. Oh, that reminds me of the time…,”

And as the bulky warrior broke into a story about he and his brother when they were little, the hobbit lass settled down in the grass next to him, leaning against his leg with a look of fondness as she listened.

#trying to get out of a writing slump #writing #dwalin #dwalin fundinson #hobbit #hobbit reader #the hobbit #my writting

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despairforme · 10 months

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congratulations on the 9 years with the spoon! any tips on sticking to writing the same character for so long without the fandom ruining them? genuinely curious!

[ ;O;//// Thank you so much anon! I'm super happy about having written him for 9 years. Thinking about all the time I've dedicated to my hobby, all the hours I've given him... Makes me happy. I'm living my best life!

I'd be happy to share some tips about sticking to a character. At least I can share what has worked for me. I can 5/5 recommend having such a long journey with a character. It's a commitment you won't regret! I'm not really sure what you mean by "the fandom ruining them", but I'll give my take anyway xD -

Picking a character that inspires you. I think this is the most important thing. I started writing Nnoitra initially because I enjoyed drawing him. He gave me a ton of inspiration for drawing, and I figured it might be the same for writing, and I was right. I'm always, ALWAYS inspired to write Nnoitra, because he is the source of my inspiration.

Writing them how YOU want, not how others want. Staying secure and confident in your portrayal is underrated. I've stayed away from discussing my portrayal (it's in my rules that I prefer not to discuss how I write him). Don't let people tell you how you should portray your muse. If they don't like the way you write them, they can give writing them a go themselves. If you disagree with popular fanon ect, then go your own way. Your muse is yours.

About mirrors / duplicates. How people deal with mirrors/duplicates of the same muse really depends on the person, I think. In my early days of writing Nnoitra, I used to block/blacklist all other Nnoitra writers, because I didn't want to see their take on Nnoitra. I was "possessive" of him, if that makes sense. Now, I'm happy to see different versions of him, and I enjoy writing with my duplicates. Seeing other people love him is wholesome to me! I wish I'd interacted with my duplicates a lot sooner, and chatted with them. Talking to duplicates and befriending them has made me more confident and comfortable, so I would personally recommend that approach.

Building friendships, navigating the community. Interacting with lots of different people, both new and old people in the fandom is important in order to get enough interactions and connections. It's pretty difficult to write a muse for many years if you don't build any rp-connections. Also, having long-term friendships with your partners is amazing. There are people on here I've known for 10 years now! It's wild! Staying AWAY from drama is also incredibly important. You don't want any negativity to be attached to your blog. You don't want to feel anxious when logging on. Don't engage with any drama. Don't comment on it, don't give your opinion, don't discuss it with anyone. You never know when someone might take something out-of-context, or how "big" even small drama can grow. If drama is going on in the fandom, I'd recommend just blacklisting it, or going offline until it dies down. If you're keeping your blog for a long time, remember that people can go back and find things you've written ages ago. Maybe that one friend you stuck up for 2 years ago really does turn out to be a scam-artist or a predator. Don't underestimate how petty people can be. They can go back and find your posts about supporting this person and bam, you're added to a do-not-interact list. Even if all you did was support your friend at the time. If you get anon hate in your inbox, block and delete the ask. You don't need that negativity on your long-term blog. IDK I like to think of my blog as a garden that I'm cultivating?? I generally keep only positive, nice things on it. Things that I can go back and look at with approval and happiness.

Branching out of the fandom. This is probably (imo) the most important thing. I don't think I would've been able to write for 9 years if I hadn't branched out of the fandom. Not because the fandom is bad. Not because it doesn't inspire me, but because the amount of plots really is limited. Having to work within the boundaries of the fandom, and with a limited amount of characters isn't sustainable for 9 years. I love canon interactions, but I can't base my whole writing on that. It's too repetitive, which brings me to my next tip -

Give yourself the plots you crave. Getting "bored" of a muse can happen if you find yourself more interested in something else. Watched a new fantasy-anime? Maybe you're really into this one pirate show. Maybe you're interested in a specific time in history. MAKE THAT AU!! I cannot recommend AUs enough!! If you want to write a pirate muse, instead of making a new muse, just make an AU for your current muse. I have over 30 AUs for Nnoitra at this point, most of them inspired from either shows I've watched or specific interests I have ( like my formula 1!au, since I'm a huge f1 fan ). Don't be afraid to reach out to people who might be interested in writing the AUs with you. Don't be afraid to write drabbles for the AUs.

A continuous story. Another tip I can give for keeping things interesting, is to have a "story" for your muse that you continue through the years. Like my Nnoitra's main verse. Everything that happens to him in that verse progresses the story. The muses he interacts with become characters in his story. I get to see him develop and have ups and downs. It's like watching your favorite show with your favorite character, and there is always a new season. 5/5.

Hope this helps! This is just some things I could think of on the top of my head. And, this is just from my personal experience! ]

#[ fjfjfj i'm flattered you'd ask my opinion anon! ]#[ don't know if any of this stuff is controversal or new tho xD ]#[ BUT YEAH this is how i kept my blog for 9 years pretty much ]#[ - runs hands all over my blog - my precious safe space uvu ]#toby post. ╱ out of character.#longpost //

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pumpkinsy0 · 10 months

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Buck x Tim headconnons

I feel like they would be a good duo

Buck can fight, but he's just retired to fight. Just tends the Bar he owes

They will both beat peoples asses, if they fight together

Tim makes fun of Buck for being old, but Buck doesn't get mad he lets it slide

If its Buck's b-day, Tim will steal him little gifts (Buck gets mad at Tim for stealing but is thankful for the gift)

If its Tim's b-day, Buck will let him have free beer (only on his birthday)

Tim dares Buck to fight him, but still losses to Buck anyways 😂

When Tim is having a bad day, he will go to Buck's bar and spend there all day till he's drunk (maybe will often tell Buck about his bad day, and Buck will try his best to comfort him) I thought that will be cute♥😭

Since Buck has a dog (I feel like it should be a girl and her name should be pig) But Buck's dog loves Tim and Tim loves her back, he loves playing with her and she loves playing with him

One time Buck was laughing at Tim, because he was getting attacked by Pig while playfighting, and she accidentally bit Tim so hard he ended up having a scar on his neck (ofc Buck took Pig off Tim, but Tim was hurt so badly he couldn't talk right for a few week😭)

Tim wasn't mad at Pig, but was mad at Buck for laughing at him💀 (its fine if u don't like the whole idea)

When Tim's car isn't working and he need to go some places, he would steal Buck's car and Buck finds out, gets really pissed at him for stealing his car

Speaking of Buck's car, Tim like riding with Buck when he's running errands (Tim's passenger princess😭 Buck is forces to buy him stuff) 💀

Sorry for writing so much. And sorry if you don't like some stuff I put down. But I would love to see what you come up with. (I love your headconnons there so awesome! I wanna know what you put for THESE TWO. And its them being friends not lovers I swear😭)

This is the same person that asked for the "Buck Merrill headconnons" just letting you know. :D And you know that Buck is my favorite character. :D I also loved what you wrote for him, and thanks for taking your time writing about him. Now I wanna know for this one. :D

OOoOo i actually dont see many ppl talk about buck n tim so id b happy to talk about it!!!

perhaps buck will b my third fav caribbean man of the outsiders one day

•i see them as business partners and friends!!! not exactly THEE closest of friends, but friends nonetheless!!!

•so like,,,both of em r black,,,,both got 4c hair,,,perhaps they share tips n tricks on how to maintain their hait🗽🗽

•i can totally see buck w cornrows, tim probably did it for him as a “thanks for letting me hide out here while the cops searched for me and patching me up”

•tim can braid hair thanks to practice on angela and curlys hair btw i feel like i should announce that

•tim absolutely does make fun of buck for being old even though it’s literally by a few years buck is so sick of it, ESPECIALLY when tims drunk, ur so real for this hc anon

•for tims bday he definitely abuses his free beer privileges n takes some home, if he can get it for free and not have to pay later he’s DEFINITELY gonna b on that

•buck doesnt rlly fight anymore but he for sure isnt rusty, hes the bartender AND the bouncer let that b known☝🏽☝🏽

•buck MIGHT join in on a rumble if tim RLLY needed the backup but thats a huge might

•AT FIRST pig was fucking terrified of tim, like she would run away from tim, but tim gave her some food ONCE and now she loves em

•sometimes when buck and tim get together for business reasons tims just petting pig cause fluffy dog goes brrrrr

•inspired by my dog but sometimes pig just takes tims hand and literally forces the guy wherever and tim wants to hate it but pig is a cutie so he lets it slide<33

•LIKE I SAID caribbean men, buck prolly taught tim some trinidadian creole english while tim taught buck some haitian creole #culturalkingswowiezowie

•if tims having a bad day or is just bored and doesnt rlly wanna go home he just goes to bucks bar to pick someone up or drink a bit hes not a busy man EVERY day surprisingly

•rlly when it comes to buck, if darry cant rlly relate to him he knows that buck will to some degree!!!

•ALSO ALSO hc that when tims locked up or gets arrested, he calls for buck to watch over angela and curly, cant have them without a guardian now

BUT YEA THIS IS WHAT I COULD COME UP W ON THE WHIM hope u liked it anon🫶🏽🫶🏽

and thx for liking the hcs :D!!

#tim shepard #buck merril

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destinyc1020 · 3 months

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Hey destiny,

I dont know if you want to respond to this ask because it's about Tom and post Romeo and Juliet. I write this cause there have been so many think pieces bout hisbchiuces and some fans catastrophize, and I value your perspective on these things.

I'm excited for SM4 and Uncharted 2, but after that, I don't want Tom to be a part of Avengers 5 or any crossover until he has success outside of the MCU.

He's too talented to be stuck in that franchise that rn doesn't sound secure and looks to be dependent on him. Shawn Levy gave him praise a few days ago, teasing a deadpool crossover and for me thats an alarm bell in my head because it's so obvious they are trying to make his SM the Iron Man of that universe. What is baffling with me with his career is that he's doing these films cause he wants to, but deep down, I don't think he just wants to do just this. I remember the q&a for TCR for sag-aftra and how he was scared to go outside of the MCU bubble before taking that role and how he was happy he was doing this.

I'm confused because it's not just for money to stay in that universe. Tom avoids fashion shows and campaigns that could pay more than a movie star salary. He could really milk his persona for money due to him being a walking meme. He actively avoids socialising in hollywood or going to parties or events, yet he's stuck doing sequels? Tom is still young, he can always come back to those films cause the demand is high and i dont mind those films but i want some more variety. I selfishly want to understand where his head is. I would understand if he was deeply pretentious, but he's not. I've yet to see him do an a24 film or projects filmtwittwr has a hard-on for, lol. I don't like film twitter, sorry. Very toxic imo.

I rewatched TCR, and it's honestly so much better than I remembered. Tom is displaying an arpeggios of emotional acuity that is so uniquely rare that I didn't even want it to finish. I wanted to know more about Danny and his treatment. I'm not against big ip movies, I'm concerned with the lack of vision, director, scripts, and lack of practical effects. I want style as well as a blue screen.

The winner rumours are giving me hope because it's a risk, and I know Tom can do this. I think my irritation for his existing ip as of rn is those toxic fanbases and biased critics that use it against Tom as a cautionary tale. Don't do Marvel, or you'll end up like him like he isn't in high demand and talented af. Like JE is considered a movie star yet tell me a film he's opened as a lead not supporting, that made profit for over 200 million? They always move the goalposts for Tom and also Z, but that's for another day, lol.

If there's on actor Tom should look for inspiration, it's Tom Cruise. Take away his personal life, an actor who didn't fit the mould for most male actors of that time,he's the only one career that has still stayed intact. I remember reading that after being cast for his role in the interview with a vampire, he was swarmed with hate against him doing the part. Even the author and brad pitt were against his casting, and he proved them wrong. He doesn't have an oscar, but he's still considered a movie star as opposed to his peers who faded out.

Tom is a movie start idc. He sold out his show with just his name alone and an old pic, without Spiderman with a cast that was yet to be announced. Every day after a show, crowds are swarming to see him and the cast, not SM.

He has the sauce, I just hope he uses it now and don't wait.

Whew! Anon....You wrote a LOT in this ask lol. I'm not sure I can get to everything you've addressed in here, but I'll pick out some main points. I'm not sure if you intended this to be a "confession" or not, but I'll just answer normally...

First off: I write this cause there have been so many think pieces bout hisbchiuces and some fans catastrophize, and I value your perspective on these things.

I'm sorry, but WHAT?? 😅

I have no clue what that word means.

I'm excited for SM4 and Uncharted 2, but after that, I don't want Tom to be a part of Avengers 5 or any crossover until he has success outside of the MCU.

Hmm...I mean, I guess I can sort of understand that sentiment. You just want him to not be typecast as a Superhero, or to be seen as someone who can only be successful in action films/popcorn flicks I'm assuming? I think that's pretty fair. With that said, I will say that even though some of Tom's projects outside of Spiderman haven't been as well-received as we as fans might want (i.e. "Cherry", CW, TCR, I personally thought TDATT did pretty well actually), I will say that he's been very fortunate that a LOT of these have been only STREAMING projects. It's not like they were put out in theaters, so even if they weren't that well-received by critics, who cares?? It's not like they had "box office numbers" to also worry about.

Plus, who knows if these films might have done well at the box office even in spite of negative film critics' reviews? 🤔 Did anyone ever consider that? Either way, to me, it hasn't been that big of a deal?

He's too talented to be stuck in that franchise that rn doesn't sound secure and looks to be dependent on him.

Tom is definitely very talented! But does TOM himself feel "stuck" in the franchise? He hasn't filmed a Spiderman movie since 2020/2021...that's almost 4 years ago. Is he really "stuck"?? 🤔

What is baffling with me with his career is that he's doing these films cause he wants to, but deep down, I don't think he just wants to do just this. I remember the q&a for TCR for sag-aftra and how he was scared to go outside of the MCU bubble before taking that role and how he was happy he was doing this.

I definitely don't think that Tom wants to be typecast or put in a box... He seems to want to do other things outside of MCU films (hence, his venturing and experimenting with other more challenging roles), but at the same time, I do think that he genuinely enjoys playing the Spider-Man character? I don't think two things can be true at the same time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Maybe those just aren't his thing? 🤷🏾‍♀️

With that said, I mean, I DO think it's good to go to Hollywood parties SOMETIMES, because those afford you a lot of ways to network and meet people you look up to, and maybe influential people who can possibly give you another acting job at some point. 👀 To me, it's just smart?? But not everyone likes to go to parties, and not everyone is really wanting to have a persona. In Tom's case, he's UBER famous, so he might actually be trying to TEMPER down his fame a bit, so that's why he prefers not to really be out there. Even his dad said that he worries at times about Tom's fame (not about the work), because his level of fame might not afford him the ability to just go out and do things like that, and still live a normal life w/out being hounded, ywkim?

I've yet to see him do an a24 film or projects filmtwittwr has a hard-on for, lol. I don't like film twitter, sorry. Very toxic imo.

I'm not really understanding what this has to do with anything. MOST actors take on roles that speak to them or ones that they find either challenging or interesting. MOST actors aren't taking roles because they think "Film Twitter" is going to like it. 🙄 Most actors don't even care about what their fans or people are going to think when choosing roles.

They choose to do a role because it's a great opportunity to maybe work with a great director or cast that they've always wanted to work with, or because the story/writing/plot is very compelling and it's a role that they can really sink their teeth into.

Yea, Tom did an amazing job in TCR! 😃 I'm sorry the series was so heavy that it kind of made him go into a dark place while filming it 😔, but overall, I'm really glad that he went outside of the grain and did something very different from the norm! 😊

And the Critics Choice gave him a nomination, sooooo.... Obviously it must not have been hated THAT badly by the critics lol.

If there's on actor Tom should look for inspiration, it's Tom Cruise.

I've been saying this for a while now! 😃

Tom is a movie start idc.

Of COURSE he is!! Why do you have doubt anon?? 😅

He has the sauce, I just hope he uses it now and don't wait.

Tom definitely has the sauce, and I actually think he's already been using it?? 🤔 What are you looking for anon? Also, do you know that actors (male actors) are typically able to have a long-running career in Hollywood and be just fine?? It's female actresses that usually have a time limit on the types of roles they can play. But men can play just about anything for as long as they're still alive. It's unfair, but it's true.

Tom is a white, hetero, MALE actor in Hollywood. He will be just fine! He has DECADES to play a ton of roles Anon. Some actors out here are only JUST NOW getting their shine and they're past their 30's and 40s. Look at Coleman Domingo for example. He JUSt now got an Oscar nomination this year, and he's 54 years old. Idk where fans get this idea that Tom (or ANY actor for that matter) needs to be winning Oscars in their 20s, or doing such huge roles before they've even hit their 30's, as if their time is going to somehow run out and they don't have 30 MORE years to go in this industry lol. 😅🤣

Even Leo didn't win an Oscar until he was well into his 40s. He got his first nod at age 19, but didn't actually WIN one until his 40s'. Leo has been touted as some kind of acting prodigy, but even HE didn't get recognized with an Oscar until his 40's, and he's been acting since he was a kid! So, Idk where this sense of urgency comes from when it comes to Tom and his acting career, but the man isn't even in his 30's yet lol. He has PLENTY of time to do a wide range of roles! 😊

#sorry for the dissertation

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tricksterlatte · 8 months

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21 & 25 for the ask meme?

21: a fandom you're not active in anymore but you still really like

I mentioned Tales earlier, so here's another one? I never wrote for it, but I still adore hq!

25: a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces

I have several tbh, and this is ample opportunity for me to talk about them:

Mute liberally. Mute literally anything you do not enjoy. Fandom is meant for escapism and happiness, not competition or education. You should build community around what you enjoy and focus mostly on a small group of friends at most. Do not create solely for the pursuit of fame. Algorithms are unkind, and people are also unkind when faced with pseudo-competition, even if the flames are stoked by people who do not have authority in a space meant for fun. Put your fun first if you want to enjoy your time here! Make what makes YOU happy!

Being anti harassment also includes not insulting a random ship that slightly annoys you or seemingly "gets in the way' of your ship (at LEAST publicly, but also around large groups and around people you know adore this). No one feels better by continuing a cycle of ship hate, and I say this as someone who was not exempt from this pattern of behavior in the past. It will lead to misery, including your own. Go back to advice one and please mute and block if anyone perpetuates it. I will mute, unfollow, or block people over this nowadays even if I agree with them. It's not nice. 3. If something, whether art or a story or even a little headcanon post makes you happy, tell that person! I was a terribly shy and reserved person in the past and I don't think I commented enough when something sparked happiness for me. Some days, and for many of us, fandom has kept us going during a dark time in our lives. I think positive community can help more people do the same. Tell someone if a story or a comic or anything brought you a smile, a laugh, or a glimmer of hope. Chances are good the art/writing process was what gave the artist hope too.

One person was all it took for my entire life to change forever, and it all started with art for my fic. Sometimes you have no idea how much what may seem small will mean to another person behind a screen. Even a little "I loved this!" will make an author squeal if their AO3 inbox has been devoid of comments or only filled with anon hate. Let someone know what they made has made you happy! Your words will inspire them as well!

Thank you for the ask!

#parker says things #ask meme #tricksterlatte writes #my stuff

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

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i've been trying to write but i've had the worst writer's block for literally 3 years now. if you experience it, how do you overcome it?

hi anon! i'm so sorry you're struggling with this, especially for so long 😔 i know how demoralizing it can feel to feel 'stuck', or unhappy with anything you manage to get out. i can't promise that i have all the answers, but here are some different strategies that often help me!

fill the well

i think i stole this term from 'the artist's way' but i can't actually remember if her definition is the same as mine, so. when eye say filling the well, what i mean is: i take a purposeful break from attempting to create content, and i consume. i eat eat eat whatever i can get my hands on. poetry, books, music, movies. i go to an art museum, or go see a live performance of something, if i can!

i find that getting myself out of my own head and fully invested in someone else's creations tends to get my wheels turning. and it's therapeutic, that feeling of discovering some piece of art that speaks to you and reminds you that you're a human. it helps reconnect me to the purpose of why i create, the way i strive to give someone else that same experience by writing stories that i hope people can see themselves reflected back in. seriously - consume stuff! NEW stuff! go out there and find a thing that you love that someone else created.

box yourself in

this is a strategy i had never really tried before until last year, when i was struggling with wicked "i hate everything i write" syndrome, and the love of my life @gimmethatagustd gave me this tip! it's so weird, but it worked for me, so maybe it'll work for you too! they said that as someone who had to write a lot for school, even when they were blocked as fuck, that sometimes they would assign themselves specific rules or prompts for a piece in order to switch things up~

maybe for you, this looks like churning out a few drabbles, and forcing yourself to make them EXACTLY 100 words long. maybe it's writing something only in dialogue (a thing i actually did once when super blocked lmao!). maybe it's trying a new genre, maybe it's trying to write ~in the style~ of someone else, maybe it's writing member POV if that's not something you normally do. maybe it's looking up specific writing prompts/challenges, or playing some weird game with yourself where you try to fit song lyrics into a piece, or make each new sentence start with the last letter of the sentence before it - i don't know! get crazy with it! don't ask me why, but sometimes giving yourself more rules to adhere to makes it easier to write - or just gives your brain something else to focus on, at least 🤪

show up anyway

i hate that sometimes, this is what works, but it's the truth. stephen king has said a lot of things (including many racial slurs lol 🥴) but one of the not-dumb things he's said is along the lines of: "don't wait for the muse. ...your job is to make sure the muse knows where you're going to be every day from nine 'til noon. or seven 'til three. if he does know, i assure you that sooner or later he'll start showing up."

sometimes, writing is showing up, putting down crap, hating it, and doing it anyway. (this might go along with #2 - maybe your drabbles suck! write them anyway!) turning on the tap and running it until all the junk in your pipes gets out and the water runs clear. it sucks! when i'm in a place where that's all i can do, it's the worst feeling in the world! but there have been times where i've found that my "writer's block" was just me wanting things to come easily, like they do in a moment of fresh inspiration. and sometimes, you don't have inspiration. sometimes, you don't even have motivation. you gotta be disciplined and just do it anyway, and just keep shaking your brain like a piggy bank until something good eventually comes out of it.

rest. but like, actually rest

"but m! you just told us to push through and do it anyway!" okay, yeah, well. sometimes that works, but also, brains suck, and sometimes it doesn't work. if none of the above strategies have worked, or i'm stressing myself out so much that i'm like, actively bursting into tears over writing, that's when i know i need to rest.

there's this idea that i actually use a LOT in life - and not even exclusively about writing. when i have a friend who is struggling to get something done, and i ask them "did you rest?" and they tell me they did, i like to fire back: "did you actually rest, or did you spend the entire time feeling guilty about how you weren't doing X thing?"

guilt, as it turns out, is not rest. thinking about how much you wish you were writing is not rest. worrying about how you'll never be able to write anything good ever again... is also not rest! when i know i'm burnt out, i give myself a timeframe - it can be anywhere from 48 hours to several weeks, depending on severity - and i make a promise to myself: for that time, it is ILLEGAL to think about writing, to feel bad about writing, to want to write, or to even so much as TOUCH a word processor. AGAINST THE LAW, YOU HEAR ME?

i force myself to do anything else. if i feel like being creative, i'll pursue non-writing avenues to do so. but if i don't? i'll do fuck all. i'll watch a season of a terrible reality show. i'll take naps on my couch. i'll eat ice cream or do a puzzle or read a book or learn a language or whatever else. but i don't touch my writing, i don't think about my writing and i do not feel bad about my writing, or lack thereof.

usually, by the time my sentence in anti-writing jail is up (the only kind of prison i believe in lmao ✌️) my energy levels feel restored, my outlook is more positive, and i'm chomping at the bit to get back to it, with a renewed sense of appreciation for my work and my ideas. sometimes you just need to take a break, a real break, and that's okay!

accept it

sort of a continuation of my last one - and i know this sounds kinda dire, but i'm saying this with only love: not every season can be a season of harvest. there are some seasons where the ground is frozen, and nothing can grow. we cannot always be making all of the time. some seasons of life are for other things instead. healing, changing, starting over. i went through a years-long period of really wanting to write, but never managing to get words out when i tried. and guess what? it came back to me, eventually. but for a long time, i had to just... not write. and go live my life. and the world kept turning.

banging your head against the wall when it's not coming out won't solve anything. if you've tried it all, and it's still not happening? it might not be your time right now. and you might be doing yourself more harm than good by trying to force what's not, in this moment, meant to be. so deep breaths. chin up. know that it is okay to move on to the next season, and trust that it will come back when the time is right. life is long. nothing is forever, good or bad. there is so much more out there for you. infinite possibilities. i really do believe that!

sorry for the rambling lmao 😓 but hopefully you find some/any of this helpful!!! i'm here for you if you ever wanna talk more about writing struggles, bc i am no stranger to them. i love you! fighting!! 💜

#anonymous #mbox 📮#all the love! i know it's tough!!!

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

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Sweetie T, I’m here and incredibly late but there’s something I just wanted to tell you after seeing all of the madness that was that hateful anon:

Thank you for just being you. It’s crazy because before I started posting on tumblr (hell, even just having an account because I just lurked on this site as a guest), it was your writing that drew me in. The one that pushed me to finally start sharing writing on here was your post: splat, splat, splattering and I can’t quite describe the inspiration you gave me, but it was great.

And when we did start interacting, your warmth just…grr I lack the words because it’s a little overwhelming…but I felt so welcomed thanks to you in addition with many other writers here, and I hope to create a kind place similar to your gentle (and sometimes silly 😝) blog.

I’m losing my train of thought and I don’t wanna just repeat myself but by rephrasing, so I’d like to end with this:

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity! 💕

Thank you :3 May you sleep well and have a yummy dinner

Cherry !! 🥺 First and foremost, I appreciate you and your support. 💞 Ik I say, “I appreciate your support/I’m grateful for your support,” a lot, and it’s bc I do; I hope to never catch myself taking you, or anyone, for granted. 🫶🏽

I’m incredibly honored to know I helped encourage you to begin sharing your own writing, and am happy we’ve been moots through so much of our Tumblr journeys. 💗 (I still remember writing all of me/all of you for you 😉 pretty sure I was up late that night heh)

Thank you for your kind and thoughtful words, and for nurturing such welcoming and heartfelt vibes both on your own blog + Tumblr in general. 💓 It’s raining here 🌧️, so imagine us cuddling and giggling over Tanjirou together. 🥰

#answered by T #💌#moot: 🌸#discourse

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unboundwanderers · 1 year

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1 , 17, 29, 36 & 37 (to any of the doctors!)

MUNDAY ASKS.

1 A.) Technically, this is a two part question because I started writing when I was like... ten. I started in SCHOOL, actually, in fourth grade. I wrote these DOG ass DBZ fanfics for show and tell, and a friend group formed a whole expanded universe for me. We made characters, wrote their stories, and drew comics. Not only was it the birth of my creative passion, but those friends would help me meet my brother, and their enthusiasm would lead me on to make my more prolific muses later down the line. I fostered my writing by making dog ass Doctor Who Minecraft videos with my friends. I still keep up with them, and our passion for writing is still at an all-time high.

1 B.) I started roleplaying when I was twelve. I joined tumblr back in early 2010 - 2012? I interacted a LOT with the Superwholock fandom and the Sonic fandom, as those were the most prolific fandoms on the platform at the time. Tumblr was a wasteland back then, and poor little Alex had no idea how to make any blogs or do any fancy artwork. I joined when ASK BLOGS were the biggest thing on the platform. Once Undertale got popular, I got roped into that fandom and by proxy some discord servers (as Discord was starting to become popular around that time).

17) This is a contentious topic. I have no idea who my FIRST muse REALLY WAS. I think it was The Doctor. I remember making them all their own seperate blogs that were interconnected because I had no idea you could do multimuse blogs when I was a wee shitlord. These versions are just... matured/refined versions of the Doctor's I made when I was a kid. I was super into Doctor Who when I started roleplaying, so I just kinda got easily absorbed into the fandom. I remember there was this guy who made a deadpool version of his muse, and he kept trying to send me Magic Anons that turned my Doctor's into canon versions (I DO NOT miss Magic Anons. Some of them lasted for months.) I remember young Alex being upset about being turned into canon Doctors. Made his feel unwanted. However!! Now I am god! I make the rules!!! No magic anons.

29) Complicated. I don't hate Doctor Who's current canon - it's just CONFUSING as all balls. I think I really just wanted to try something new, as I'd been writing just villains nonstop up to this point, and that got really bad for my mental health. I wanted to get back into the swing and do something that gave me a lot of creative freedom. I used to be group roleplays only, and that was hard for my mental health. There was a lot of drama and a lot of hate, and it was pretty cliquey. I decided I wanted to build my pipeline, but with a character I could really get into with it. Did I think I'd fall down the Genshin Rabbit hole??? No, but The Doctor has given me the opportunity to make all sorts of friends (shoutout to @kemikorosu @lunaetis @terestris, @verdantstride and all my muttuals for putting up with all my crazy time travel horseshit---) and I've never been happier with an RPC. It feels like I've crafted a really fun experience for myself by writing my own canon? Is it MESSY? Yeah. Is it fun as HELL?? For SURE. Doctor Who changes so much, and it's canon is fucking balls to the walls. In that chaos, I've crafted something really fun, and the friends I write with are what make me come back to this hellsite :>

36) I sure hope so. They're based on my own personal experiences. Every doctor here has been crafted and molded with inspiration taken from my own life. I feel like every character, whether it be canon or original - always had a tiny part of it's writer imbued within them, and for The Doctor - that's never been more relevant than with these five. How do you write these many Doctor's, who are ageless, emotional, and complicated individuals? Even some of The Time War, The Doctor's relationship with his people, family, and the ways his incarnations change? They're based and rooted in different stages and styles of anger, depression, warmth, recovery, and humor. I try to put a lot of what people tell me they enjoy about what I bring to a room. Of course, they're still heavily being playtested and actively developed-- but I like the friends and relationships they have so far--

37) Yes. The doctor is smart, and I am dumb. He's also like 5000 years old and can travel in time. He fought in a huge war and watched the universe burn. Also his personality changes like... every day. He's hard to keep up with. He's also an Alien. There's more I could list but Vee asked all the complicated questions and my brain juice is depleted.

#faulty circuits (out of character / ooc~)#MUNDAY QUESTIONS

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enneamage · 2 years

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Sorry to the other anon but the live show wasn't the best. And he didn't even write it himself. (If you look at ash's vlog from the time he shows the dude who was helping behind the scenes.) Was a little sad when I found out and I expected way more tommy in the show but it just wasn't there. There was a distinct lack of tommyness - sure there was a lot of flavor and it was popular with the audience live but it really didn't feel that funny watching it. And as for your comment- if tommy becomes more 'authentic' in his content I'll be sad and uninterested. I don't watch him to get parasocially attached I watch him because he can at his best be hilarious and Act a character that's so engaging. But it feels like we've seen him at his best less and less over the past 2 years. I wish he'd stop worrying about passifing his fans, keeping 'in' with other ccs, (looks at dream and wilbur) and just go ham with his vid ideas. I remember he said himself he loves going live to put on a show. I'd hate to see him give up on that for audience appeal.

In order to be able to talk about a part of this ask that I wanted to focus on, I needed to try and sit through the live show in order to be sure I wasn’t mistaken about the format of the show. I struggle with watching live studio audience footage in general, so this one was an uphill battle.

When I think about how to translate a YouTube or Twitch talent to a live show my mind honestly goes blank. I know people are doing it and have done it, there’s tours like crazy out there and they’re constantly being refined, but I wouldn’t know how to break down the formula of how to get one energy into a different context, or if doing a live show means finding a similar but distinct vibe to bring into a room. It’s probably different for every performer so I wouldn’t be able to say what I would want changed about the show, but I do get not being wild about it. The show itself did feel like a test run, in a way that seemed endearing to the people who could go.

If I’m not mistaken he floated the Muppet theme as a song for the show, but it was shot down. I think he is broadly inspired by the red curtains and brass section “variety show” that the Muppets went for, though. An interesting fact about that is the non-puppet version of these live shows tended to be saucy adult-oriented evening theatre like Cabaret and Burlesque, where the variety acts got shocking and flirty to keep people entertained. This is a complete coincidence, but his “Lets see what I can get away with” bits weirdly gave me these vibes. Him taking on the saucy cabaret stage host persona is not destined for this lifetime, but it’s… a powerful image that I have been burdened with since watching.

I don’t think that Tommy is ever going to drop out of his persona completely, because his persona is part of him. That sounds like a paradox, but he is authentically a performer, him living his best life involves being able to put on his big persona and have fun in that space. Making sure that he isn’t being crushed underneath it is one thing, but it doesn’t involve doing away with it entirely. He’s made of too many different parts to just collapse into one thing, especially in front of a camera, so I don’t think there’s risk of him sacrificing that aspect of himself completely.

#Unusual number of mimes / 10 #Unironically came to a greater depth of understanding of Tommy #When I saw how much energy he stores in his knees for the first time in the room decorating stream #He’s got wiggles #I saw him reading a Steve Martin biography in a picture of him once #An odd choice but I see it #gen tmmy tag #tubeposting

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spideyharrington · 2 years

Text

It Was All Yellow

Summary: based off this request, “Hey can I request a Theseus Scamander X reader since you write for him? Something much like the ball delete scene with Leta but with reader?” / “Or maybe since Yellow is in his playlist something inspired by that song?” (sent by the same anon)

i hope i didn’t change it too much and you still like where i went with it! and as always i hope anyone else reading enjoys this as well :)

Warnings: social anxiety, being mildly abandoned in public, other than that it’s basically theseus comforting y/n

A/N: not proofread per usual 🏃‍♀️ also yes i did listen to yellow by coldplay on repeat for this. also sorry it’s kinda short

word count: 1k

You’ve never been too fond of social situations. Especially ones filled with powerful wizards you didn’t know. You always felt like everyone stared at you, but at least this time you had Theseus by your side.

“Theseus, do we really have to be here?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He chuckled at how cute you were, “unfortunately, yes. Well, technically only I do, but it’s so greatly appreciated that you’re here with me.” He have you a smile that you couldn’t be mad at before saying he had to go talk to a specific person and he’d be right back.

Then suddenly you were alone, left to nurse your drink and try your best to not seem totally out of place. Even though you definitely were.

Some people tried to be nice and told to you, but you mostly ended up just nodding and nervously sipping your drink. You weren’t sure how long Theseus had been talking to that man for but it felt like hours to you. You weren’t necessarily angry with him for leaning you alone when he knew how much you hated these situations, but you weren’t exactly happy that you didn’t have him there squeezing your hand.

Your anxiety began getting the best of you and even thought you try your damndest, you couldn’t stop yourself from panicking when you couldn’t find Theseus anymore. You were surrounded by people you didn’t know and you couldn’t find the one person you did know. When you start to panic like this, you never know what the worst scenario is exactly, it’s just this deep feeling of dread that makes you panic.

Your breathing started to become irregular and your eyes were darting around the room trying so hard to spot your fiancé. People started looking at you and whispering things like “what’s wrong with her?” “is she having some sort of meltdown?” “she’s been weird since she got here.” You even heard one girl with the audacity to say “why is he even with her.” And that certainly didn’t help you not go off the deep end.

Theseus managed to find you very shortly after. When he noticed people looking in one direction, he became concerned that he had left you alone too long with too many stranger. And he was right. And he felt awful for not just taking you with him to talk to a few people.

“Hey, hey it’s alright. You’re okay I’m right here.” He grabbed your hands, squeezing them gently, and searched your eyes to see if you had snapped out of it at all.

You were always grounded quickly with Theseus. You think it’s a mix of him being a comforting person to you and him knowing you so well. He understood your anxiety triggers and how to bring you back to him.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to mutter.

“Don’t be sorry love. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that.”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m a bit dramatic.” You nervously laughed.

Theseus did not find it humorous however, “Y/N look at me, you’re not dramatic. Your brain gets overwhelmed sometimes and that’s completely understandable. I may not have a problem talking to a bunch of strangers, but I understand why it’s so intimidating to others. And if they don’t understand, that’s on them for being so close minded that they won’t put themselves in anyone else’s shoes.”

You teared up a little at how sweet he was, before quickly ridding of any tears that wanted to spill and you just smiled at him.

“Here, I have an idea.” He gave you a wide smile that either meant you were gonna love it, or you were going to question his sanity for his idea of a good idea. But you followed him nonetheless.

“This place has a roof?”

“No, it’s obviously a basement.”

You hit his shoulder playfully at his sarcasm, “ah, yes, a basement with a perfectly clear view of the stars!”

Theseus laughed at you, then he conjured up a thick blanket on top of the rocks that covered the roof. He lead you over to it and laid down on the blanket, putting one pillow from a chair sitting up there behind his head, and placing the other one next to him for you.

“Wow, the sky is so beautiful tonight.” Your eyes seemed to glimmer in the moonlight. You just looked so gorgeous in the moonlight to him.

You looked at him and giggled softly.

“What’s so funny?” He smiled at you.

“You have a serious staring problem Mr. Scamander.”

“Only when it comes to you,” his tone suddenly turned more serious, “you look so beautiful in this moonlight,” he paused, “I mean look at the stars,” he looked back up at the sky and so did you, “look how they shine for you. And everything you do.”

You just laughed at him, “you’re too much sometimes Thes.” You said in a teasing voice.

“It’s true! Look how they shine for you!” He laughed lightly and turned his head back to you.

You turned his head back to him at the same time, “how do you know they’re not shining for you?” You challenged, wriggling your eyebrows.

“Well they told me themselves of course. They said ‘yknow something Theseus Scamander? We’re going to shine the brightest we ever have just for her.’ They agree that you deserve nothing less than the best.”

“You’ve got quite the big head there, Scamander,” you laughed before turning serious, “what did I ever do to deserve you Theseus Scamander?” You looked into his eyes with pure love in your own.

“What did i do to deserve you Y/N Scamander?” He emphasized the last name and a chill ran up your spine. You still couldn’t believe that you would share the same last name in just one month.

You stayed on the roof with him for what felt like hours. Longer than you were standing in that anxiety filmed room. And the rest of that night was all yellow.

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts secrets of dumbledore #fantastic beasts and where to find them #theseus scamander #theseus scamander fic #theseus scamander oneshot #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander fluff #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander x y/n #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander fic request #theseus scamander request #fantastic beasts fic #fbatcog #fbawtft #fbatsod #yellow

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streets-in-paradise · 2 years

Text

For A Love Like This - Paris x (fem)Warrior!Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by Anon

Omg bestie I love ur writing!!! 🥺 could I request something?! I was thinking maybe something Paris of Troy x reader where maybe the Trojan war didn’t happen bc of Paris, bc Paris and the reader are together. Maybe it could be during the Trojan war and the reader is a warrior! And Paris always gets worried bc the reader is always by Hector’s side bc she’s super skilled?

( So sorry for the delay but I hope the result will compensate. It took me ages to post this but, trust me, I got a lot of inspiration for this concept. If you see this and happen to like it, tell me because I am considering making a continuation for which i already know how to start.)

Word Count + 3.5 K

Warnings: Reader is a trojan woman whose character is slightly inspired in Penthesilea, the amazon queen who fought in the war according to the epic cycle. For so, this features some tension with Achilles bringing the conflict that worries Paris.

Summary: Your first act of involvement in the war against the greeks leaves the city acting as if you would have sealed your fate for a certain death on the next sunrise, what leaves you on the task of calming the worries of your husband. Paris doesn't know much about fighting, but the concern Hector shows is enough to make him guess you got yourself in danger.

Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @spideyanakin @spideyanakin-interacts

The enemy surrounded you and there was no upcoming help. The battle for the temple of Apollo was already lost and Hector ordered the retree of the trojan troops, but you wouldn’t go without him. Achilles caused a general panic on your people, but nothing would be enough to make you leave your dear friend behind. He knew that, but he didn’t want you to follow his chaze of the myrmidon warlord and so you were taking another mission. The rescue of Briseis, his cousin, a newly chosen priestess of Apollo that was most likely to have been caught in the massacre.

The corpses of the priests made your horrified companions guess she must have been slaughtered, but you didn’t believe that and Hector allowed you to trust your instincts. From your particular perspective, you imagined she must have hidden somewhere despite the confusion and horror. Through your knowledge of the uses of war, you knew that an army coming from across the sea to fight at your shores would see women as a scarce resource. Even if she would have been found, there were chances to find her alive and made captive as part of the looting. Your self taken duty was saving her from that fate and stripping the greeks from the pleasure of capturing a trojan princess on their first day of stay.

It didn’t go too far. There were too many of them and while you got to show some more of your exceptional courage by killing a few in the search, it wasn't enough to accomplish your goal. The irruption of your friend and their leader heading outside stopped the combat and the man you were fighting against rushed outside following their actions. So did you, but surrounded by a multitude of myrmidons impeding you to get beside Hector. Your most recent rival, who you guessed as Achilles’s second in command, gave them the order of keeping you surveilled. He quickly found out that you were dangerous, even all on your own.

Taking risks was your thing, you couldn’t get recriminated for that because it served many times in victories of the past. Neither would you recriminate your leader for venturing alone against the blond myrmidon of abhorrent arrogance, even if it worried you as a friend. Perhaps the indignation made you both careless of your individual luck. You were used to witness many horrors, faced many defeats and handled the pain of losing friends before, but the men beating you were simply despicable in levels you have never seen before. Unfortunately, some were also shockingly talented.

Hate at first sight was what you found through your meeting with Achilles, he was simply the worst. At the gates of that temple, through his word exchange with Hector, he was letting you both know you were kept alive just to brag. There were a hundred different ways in which he could have declared the end of the battle, yet he had to pick the most annoyingly arrogant.

“ Go home, prince. Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow we will have our war.”

Never in a long time you wished to slaughter an enemy with such visceral hate. Smacking him for such disrespect wasn’t enough, you wanted his blood on your sword. Through a furtive glance your friend was seeing it in your eyes, but wordlessly indicating you to calm down because the context was against you. Since you were at a disadvantage, standing powerlessly as Achilles would finish to praise himself was the only option to get back home.

However, Hector’s reply served as a display of your shared indignation.

“ You speak of war as if it was a game, but how many wifes wait in Troy’s gates for husbands they will never see again?”

Perfectly delivered, it made you remember once more of how proud you were of following him as your warlord and that almost served to calm you down a bit. The complementary effect you had on each other was no mystery and many trojans in the past have considered it proof for a viable romance. Your closeness as friends inspired some to fear you could have abandoned the lifestyle to marry him, a significant loss for the army given your skill, claim you both always found ridiculous.

The exhortation to calm you found in his words could have worked, if Achilles wouldn’t have awakened the worst of you with his comeback.

“ Perhaps your brother can comfort them, I have heard he is good at charming other men’s wives. “

Any glimpse of civility left on you faded.

“ …. You shameless greek BASTARD, THAT IS MY HUSBAND!”

Confusion reigned in the ambient, since the myrmidons were quite sure you couldn’t be Helen. Wasn’t that the reason they were fighting for? A pretty boy prince seducing a married queen and stealing her away to his kingdom?

Only then Achilles deviated his attention from Hector, in direction to the callout and being one with his soldiers regarding the intrigue.

“ Nobody told us Paris is married.” He commented while pacing in your direction in order to face you. “ My condolences, no one must be waiting for you behind those gates. The coward you got married to is cheating and the world knows it.”

The fire of your hate was growing with every gesture and every word coming out from his mouth. You couldn’t choose which part of that sentence was the worst, but you opted by starting with the assumption of your marriage being an arranged one. Angered to the core, you took your helmet off because he wasn’t wearing one. It was your own way to show that you weren’t afraid of him, even if common sense would indicate you should.

Teasing aside, Achilles seriously wondered how it was possible for you to be the wife of the hedonist fool who started the war. You were covered in dirt, sweat and blood; visual proof of how you busted your ass in combat. Your hair was a mess and the hate in your eyes as you challengingly stared at him was making you look crazy. He loved it, you seemed the most passionate woman he had come across in some long time. It was like standing in front of a daughter of Ares, an impression that made him also wonder if there could be an amazon at some branch of your family tree.

“ Keep your pity, I have a loving husband who has never chazed other women in front of me while the same can’t be said of Helen. I am aware of my privilege and that drove me to help her. The spartan king brought this on himself because his wife is escaping him, not following my Paris.”

“ Your Paris is hiding underneath the skirt of her dress while you fight their war, isn’t that unfair?”

The more aggressive replication was delivered so he could see your anger escalate because he liked it, but he also hoped to dig into some unspoken truth taking you over the edge so you would lose filters. He couldn’t accept the explanations you were providing, those were unbelievable to him. His best guess was thinking that you were ashamed of admitting your family or the trojan king forced you to marry that fool and you were defending him for your own honor.

“ I find it unfair that you are still breathing… What do you seek to achieve with these provocations? If a fight is what you want, I can give you that anytime.”

He couldn’t wait to fight you but, at the same time, he didn’t want to kill you. It was similar to the opinion he was forming of Hector on those first instants, only impulsed by something else. A different sort of curiosity, maybe stained with a bit of want.

Achilles smirked at you, a slightly flirtatious way of implying he would take the challenge.

“ How did your brother get her?” He asked right back at Hector. “ Who let that happen?”

“ Paris is, indeed, amazing at charming women.” The prince answered, turning the previous mocks against the rival. “ Nobody knows for sure how he made it, but I can tell you it wasn’t arranged. She became my sister by choice, if you knew her you would understand that commanding her is as easy as it looks right now.”

The implications, despite ruining his main theory, seemed to be of his like.

“ I see and I really want to try what she is made of.” The blond commented to him so he could later get back at you.

“ Get good rest, princess. Tomorrow you are mine.”

The menace kept wandering your mind for the rest of the day, your companions in the army interpreted it as a death sentence and they weren’t discreet about their impressions. Although Hector helped you through the moment and engaged on the less serious aspects of it, he was evidently concerned too. The pain of losing Tecton intensified to the thought of you facing his killer in the next battle. The spear throw that killed him was something neither of you have seen before. The precision and strength required for it were extraordinary, inhuman.

Your lovely husband read your friends’ preoccupation with horror. If the warrior you encountered was good enough to make them say all of that, to make Hector fear, then you were in serious danger despite how much you would insist him not to worry. He asked Helen for references on that greek and all he got to hear were horror stories. She didn’t want to frighten him; but those things were too much for him. The cultural concept of what greeks considered a hero was nauseating in his eyes, as was the description of some of the war feats that made that crazy man great among them.

The weirdest thing for Paris was noticing how her narration seemed neutral from a valorative standpoint. Helen wasn’t necessarily horrified by the actions in her tale, as if she was used to it, and there was no detractive intentionality in her words about the myrmidon. There was at least one thing she affirmed to like about Achilles: he hated her brother in law and she was respectful of him upon that hate.

When questioned about the situation at the temple, and how you both allowed the madness to escalate into a point where you ended up surrounded at the enemy’s mercy, Hector attempted to follow your route of lighthearted joking so Paris wouldn’t overworry Andromache.

“ We are still unsure if that was a death threat or if he was trying to seduce me.” You were commenting, referring to the awkward undertones of the altercate. “ In either case, I think I am fine.”

“ It could be both and it wouldn’t surprise me, that man is insane and you caused quite an impression among his men.” Hector added, supporting the anecdote. “ Not to mention how he reacted to the news of your marriage.”

The reminder made you throw a playful chuckle and Paris got an approximate idea of why.

“ Did you get in trouble for defending me again? “

“ He insulted your honor, called you a coward and a cheater. I’m sick of hearing people even here in Troy accusing you of bringing Helen as your lover. Now it turns out that Menelaus is using that narrative to portray himself a victim. I couldn’t stand it, so I called Achilles out.”

He was moved by your confession, a reckless but incredible soft gesture showing how much you loved him.

“ You made yourself a target of the most ruthless killer in the greek army just to prove I am a good husband?

You admitted the guilt with an innocent looking smile.

“ Nobody wanted to believe she is yours, Achilles is very curious about that. “ His brother continued. “ I think your honor has been avenged, at least on that front.”

“ We made it again, my darling!!” You cheered, seeking for his usual approbation. “ They are all so confused, just like Menelaus and his men were in Sparta. I knew right then I was going to hate that man, maybe judging the greeks based on their reactions to us will become my new pastime.”

“ Can’t you see the risk? Tomorrow Achilles will wander the battlefield looking for you, what will happen if he finds you?”

Paris was very serious, an unusual attitude for him and proof of how much he was suffering.

“ Rage is going to keep me alive, I fight better when I am pissed off and that happens all the time when he gets close to me.” You attempted to justify yourself. “ I will be alright, many others claiming to be better than us have passed by but your brother and I have proven them wrong.”

That wasn’t enough to calm him down, but you didn’t have time to discuss more because a call for council interrupted you. All you got to do was kiss your husband goodbye before he would go to attend his duty and that got a brief smile out of him.

Despite you being a respected warrior, you still haven’t earned a spot among the most notable citizens of Troy for the discussions. You didn’t mind not having a word there because Paris and you were a team. He would usually deal with the talking while you would get to do the fighting and the only regrets you had about that was your incapability of witnessing each other in action. That time, however, you wished you would have been there to stop what was later referenced to you.

An unfortunate comment coming from one of the present citizens pushed Paris over the edge and into a reckless choice that was an exact match of yours. Knowing him as much as you, Hector saw it coming but couldn’t stop it in the same way he couldn’t control your tongue that morning. Claiming that there were trojans burning in the pire for a youthful indiscretion, that man implied the very same thing Achilles did and Paris wanted to put an end to the insidious rumors. It wasn’t even about his honor, but of yours. You deserved better than being accused as a complicit wife who allowed her husband to bring a mistress under fears of being abandoned for her if you would have refused.

The shame you weren’t facing in your role as a soldier, you were getting in the domestic one. According to societal expectations, being a warrior should have anulated you from becoming a wife and you were once willing to pay that price pretty much as Briseis did when becoming a priestess. Paris was the one who proved you wrong, who did everything in his power to win your affections while showing himself absolutely careless of the warnings. He shocked the city asking for your hand, begging your parents to understand that he was in love with you and didn’t mind any of the presented atypicalities.They knew he was being serious when, after being asked if he would accept the mother of his children to abandon the household for war, he claimed he would. It served as an ultimate proof of his love for you, but the rest of your society wasn’t convinced of how long that could keep going.

Gossips, like the one summarized in that comment, claimed that Paris was getting himself another woman to cover up for the aspects in which your performance as wife would be neglectful. Because you were recklessly trying to live two lives, your husband wasn’t well served and Helen was supposed to fill that gap. A neglected spartan wife came across a neglected trojan husband with a turbious past as a woman chaser, making their adventure everyone’s doom. In short terms, the whole city was paying for the problems of an impulsive marriage that the young prince should have never ventured into.

He was going to fight to prove them wrong, one encounter with Menelaus putting an end to the war before Achilles could get to fight you. Paris was going to stand in front of the entire greek army and tell them that it was his love for you that made him offer Helen a chance to escape her husband, leaving the horrible man out of excuses for his mistakes. There was no passion of lovers justifying his anger, he lost Helen to no man other than himself. Paris was only guilty of not controlling his indignation to the mistreatments she was suffering, out of his own moral code but also because he was unable to stand how angry and frustrated it made you.

" You know you don't have to do this, ríght?" You softly reminded him while in the privacy of your shared room, insisting on it hoping it would dissuade him. " Not only you don't need to prove yourself to me, it will solve nothing."

" Agamemnon didn't bring fifty thousand greeks in vain, that's what Andromache says. " Paris commented to you what was a fraction of a conversation he had with his sister in law, since both were pretty much in the same state of desperation. " I can't let you fight tomorrow, not while I know what awaits. Let me do the fighting for once instead."

The vanity driven jester the outside world knew him as was completely gone. Seeing the worry in his sweet face was killing you.

" Did you lose all the trust in my skills you once used to have? Back when Hector took the lead of the army and gave me the chance to prove my worth, you were the first voice raising in approval. I remember you declaring your admiration for me, Briseis had to stop you from offending the gods by comparing me to Athena."

The mention of his beloved cousin brought the topic back by itself.

" Did you go inside that temple searching for her, or were you there only seeking to kill Achilles?"

You decided to be honest, he deserved it.

" A bit of both, the same can be said about Hector. An ambush of two against one could have worked, but you know your brother: he played fair even when the enemy was playing us. I believe in that, I respect his code, but the greeks were so ruthless that I would have consented to using questionable tactics. He made me stay out of it, but there was no way I would have gone back to the city knowing he was still there so I tried searching for her. I didn't succeed, we lost so much for nothing and that son of a bitch made fun of our suffering. Even that, I could take, but I lost my mind when he insulted you. "

" Was he shocked to find out your husband is a man widely judged as a coward and effeminate? " Paris asked, the self deprecation was more a repetition of things being said about him. " I bet he wasn't expecting that, no one does."

" They all thought the woman you are calling your wife is the adorable blond flower we brought home." You snarked back. " I am not precisely the ideal wife in the mind of most men."

" Yet I love you more than life itself and I want the whole world to get it clear. I want to expose the spartan king, set yourself free from those awful rumors, then walk straightfoldy to that myrmidon beast of a warrior and tell him you are mine."

You let out a soft gasp, the intensity of his phrasing would never stop amazing you.

" That sounds beautiful, but impractical. "

" You have fought alongside my brother for years and I have never felt as fearful as I am now. People say Achilles is a demigod, invincible from birth. Hector himself seems terrified to the thought of fighting him and that is unusual enough to be a bad sign."

" The bastard is very good, I don't deny it, but ' invincible from birth' sounds like a stretch. No one is, even gods lose battles from time to time. "

Unsure of how to proceed, Paris begged you in the most desperate way he found.

" Please, don't go. You don't have to, plenty of other soldiers can defend the city." As he said so, he abandoned his position to literally beg on his knees embracing your hips. " I'm desperate, my love, absolutely defeated. I don't know what to do or say in order to make you stay. Isn't my devotion enough for you to consider valuing your life like you should? I have no life without you, that's why I don't mind fighting tomorrow.."

You caressed his cheeks before his tears could begin to fall. When one of your hands reached closeness with his mouth Paris placed a kiss on it and that made you lose reason.

" That's what you don't understand: I fight with the strength of your love in my heart. I fight for you, to come back into your sweet embrace and get more of the kind of love I never imagined I would have. Whenever you await me at the gates, or here, laying on our talamus while looking more handsome than usual just for me. When you order to get my bath ready on time just to be the one helping me get clean, when you trace my scars with your fingertips and still dare to say my skin is beautiful. I am a better fighter because of you, in all those moments I get a strength I didn't have before you."

He looked at you with the sweetest disbelief and you were in awe with yourself regarding how much you adored him.

" Paris, I was not made for a love like this. Warrior women aren't meant to love or be loved as wifes, we are supposed to remain virgins like the daughter of Zeus. The intensity of your feelings is a blessing that I used to think was forbidden for me. Maybe the gods sent us this war because we crossed the line, but I prefer to fight a thousand more before letting you go. "

" Aphrodite shaped you for me in likeness to her greatest love. " He followed you, losing himself in the sweetness of your words. " I will keep praying to my goddess, begging her to get you the favor of Ares."

Intense staring between the both of you and he stood up slowly, letting a trail of kisses over every section of your body on his way up even while you were still dressed. The action concluded with a desperately passionate kiss that you initiated once his líps got to your reach.

" Love me." You sweetly begged him ríght afterwards, purring close to his ear. " Please, Paris.... just love me. "

Your pleading helped him get a bit cocky, what was sensed in the kind of teasing he delivered while getting in bed with you.

" Should I believe in those strange jokes you have with my brother? Deep down, that despicable greek craves to ruin you for my caresses?"

" Well, he advised me to rest after mocking Hector with the opposite. The idea of you making love to me must be uncomfortable for him." Was your honest and quite playful reply. " Yet he didn't shy away from suggesting you were hiding underneath the dress skirt of Helen."

Paris chuckled against the skin of your neck, what felt to you as relief on his part.

" He wants you, fighting is just the way to awake passion." He casually added. " Too bad for him that you are all mine. "

" It's just a joke, that happens when you are the only woman of the enemy troop. "

That explanation was unsatisfying to him.

" Don't discredit yourself, the sweat looks incredibly good on you."

#troy 2004 #troy 2004 fanfiction #troy fanfiction #troy #paris of troy #orlando bloom #paris of troy x reader #orlando bloom x reader #orlando bloom characters #orlando bloom fanfiction #troy (2004)

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koulakoukoula2003 · 2 years

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Hii do u write angst? Like can we have y/n with an unrequited love for erwin smith

Anon, angst is my SPECIALTY i've made so many ppl cry with my angst writing skillz

as a matter of fact, the main point of my erwin x oc longfic is ANGST AHAHAHA if you love angst, ive written 250k words of it (go read it uwu)

but if you're not into longfics, pls accept this humble offering *stretches fingers*

trust me, bestie, unrequited love is least painful angsty trope i can write you. I want you to think about spending your entire life trying to please this man (joining the Survey Corps and becoming a top soldier FOR him, to protect him) and he still goes out and dies cause you will always come second. His dreams, his aims, the fate of the world will always be more important to him than you are.

So, even if he loves you, does it even matter? Erwin is a selfish man, but when it comes to his own feelings? He's as selfless as can be. He's going to take his fast-thrumming-for-you heart and he's going to toss it into the gutter, you know why? Because it simply doesn't matter. His feelings for you don't matter.

You don't matter. He's going to order you to ride to your own death if it means it saves the world.

He will order the person that he loves to die if it means his plans will be realised. And you're going to die for him, because that's what you've been doing your entire life, isn't it? You joined the Survey Corps for him and he has never even looked at you with a spec of fondness.

You're not even sure whether this man feels anything, sometimes you're just crawling in despair and you're certain you should quit and leave the Survey Corps because you thought you were chasing his heart, but there's no heart beneath his chest. He has torn it out and he has buried it somewhere and looking for it is pointless no matter what you do.

And it was in times like this when he'd ask you to sit on his lap, in the very late nights when you would check up on him. You knew he always worked and you always tried to throw a blanket over him whenever he'd fall asleep on his desk.

But tonight he wasn't sleeping and tomorrow you had prepared your resignation to deliver to him. But he wasn't sleeping and he asked you sit on his lap.

And you did, and he buried his face in your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you and he closed his eyes. He drew in your scent and he sighed blissfully when you buried your fingers in his hair and you stroked so gently.

You found him sleeping so peacefully on your shoulder and you decided you weren't going to resign tomorrow. But that very instance had happened before, over and over, and he had confused you.

Did he love you? Did he resent you? What did he want? You were never going to get an answer and he was never going to say that three-letter sentence that you so desired, but you still stuck by his side for those very, very rare moments when he gave you the most affection you've ever taken from him.

You were going to waste your life over this, weren't you?

Even when you knew that one day he was going to die and you were going to lose him, maybe you would ride to your death beside him. You cursed your heart for choosing him so many damn times.

Erwin Smith was a man with purpose. Love and marriage and children were never going to be part of his life and he had always known that.

But then you came into his life and he tried everything he could to kick you out of it. Heck, you joined the freaking Survey Corps just so that you could be closer to him. He hated it though, because you put him out of his course. You got into his plans and trampled all over them.

All he ever planned was for himself to achieve his goals and die a meaningful, honorable death in the battlefield. That was a realistic ending that was never going to hurt anyone. He actually hoped to inspire the future generations like this.

But no, you just had to be there and make everything so damn complicating.

You could no longer keep it up like this. You needed some clarity. You deserved it at least. So you talked to him about this and it only ended up with him bursting out like this.

“I feel nothing for you,”

It was a lie. A lie he kept telling himself. A lie that he had tried to use to convince himself. I feel nothing for her. She’s nothing to me. She’s nothing. But it was just so hard to resist because you were everything to him and it was just so difficult.

You felt numb for a moment. Had he actually just said that? After everything you had done for him. You let out a soft sob. I feel nothing for you. It felt like a stab in the heart. Why was he doing this? Why again? Had he not hurt you enough?

“Why are you doing this?” Tears ran down your cheeks, but you wiped them away immediately. “But I… I love you,” There was no point in trying, was there? You had done so much for him. You would let him hurt you over and over and you'd take it, but how much could you take?

I feel nothing for you.

“You don’t love me, y/n, you love the way I treat you,” He turned and looked at you and approached you. “You love the way I use you. The way I hurt you,” He wrapped his arms around you. “You love the way I break your heart, over and over. You love how heartless I am,” He knew there was some truth in it. You would never admit it, but yes, you loved the way he used you. His doll. His little slut to use to please himself. But he was wrong about everything else.

“If that was true, I would have never joined the Survey Corps,” You sniffled. “I wouldn’t set my mind on becoming a better soldier than you are if it wasn’t for the sake of protecting you,” you gritted her teeth. “I tried to leave. I tried to convince myself that pursuing you is a hopeless cause. Yet here I am,”

“Then why are you here?” His arms tightened around you. “Why are you here, y/n, I’ve given you every reason to hate me. Why don’t you just do it?!”

He looked so desperate. Bright blue eyes wide staring into your own. His arms so tight around you, it suffocated you, but you didn’t care. Was that it? He had been trying to make you hate him? To make you try to leave again? Why would he do that? He probably didn’t even want you to be there, did he? No.

He didn’t want her to be in love with him. He didn’t want that because he was going to fail you. He was going to hurt you. He was possibly going to ride right into his death one day and he knew he wouldn’t spare a thought for you. He would hurt you because he’d put his job above you. He’d do it without a second thought and order you to jump right into your death if it meant his plans would bear fruition.

And you did not deserve that. You had to leave before it’d get to this.

“Maybe that’s because…” Your eyes softened, and you cupped his cheek. “…deep down I hope that there’s a part of you that you won’t let out,” you ran the back of your soft fingers across his cheek, and he closed his eyes momentarily. Your eyes filled with a new pair tears. “A gentle man who would allow himself to love me,”

But you knew this man would never come out.

#erwin smith imagine #snk #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #erwin smith #aot erwin #erwin x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith angst #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin x oc #erwin angst #erwin fluff #i switched from present to past tense dlnjkwnhejew #rookie mistake my apologies

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