#Abandoned fic.

[queenangst]

idk if this is a young fan thing or new fandom culture but some of yall think fics are abandoned way too quickly. a few months or a year or two is not unusual to go without a fic update. sometimes fics take longer to write, other times writers have rl events, or maybe there's multiple fics and one gets more priority. there are tons of reasons for fics not to be updated every week or every month. it also isn't uncommon for people to come back and update fics after a number of years—ive read updates that took five, or ten years. people's lives change, but they still want to tell their stories. personally, i never consider a fic abandoned unless the author has said so; though if it's been a few years i manage my expectations. but a last update being a year ago is... generally not a sign that a writer has abandoned their fic

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

posting this with absolutely no context

[emberfaye]

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[autumnalmess]

Hey man sorry I've not posted in a while, it's a funny story actually. I actually got arrested for stealing bread for my sister and her seven starving children. yeah, it was pretty bad. I tried to escape 3 times so yeah I got 19 years, yeah and then I broke my parole and now there's this slutty little man after me, yeah I think he has a crush on me or smt idk

[willgrahamscock]

not only is Hannibal a “would you love me if I was a worm” type of girl but he also says shit like “I just feel like you’re mad at me” when Will turns away after cuddling for a bit, but it’s because he got too hot and his back hurts from being folded like a lawn chair earlier

[humbuns]

natsumugi save mee......sav..

[abbyshands]

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | m. list | join my tag list!

fix you by coldplay makes me think about ex gf!abby anderson criminally speeding down a highway. it’s raining, it’s freezing, and she shouldn’t be doing this, but she is. you were seconds away from saving what you had with her, but too late, it was over, she didn’t want you. then she went home, approached her door, and she saw you. saw the times she picked you up in her muscular arms, kissed you like you’d fade if she didn’t as she dragged you inside. she saw you on her couch when she got into her living room, sprawled across her lap as you rambled to her. tried to sleep it off in her bed, but she didn’t see you this time, she felt you, cuddled up in her arms as she kissed you to sleep. and then she cried, she bawled, because she had lost you. she had been an idiot, because how could she have let you go? then she left the house, got into her car, and fucking sped. rain falling down all around her, battling to get to you as fast as she could. like someone, someone wiser, who would never let you go, would get to you before she could. and she couldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t. you didn’t open the door at first when you heard her knock. you were numb, exhausted, sick. you couldn’t speak to a soul, not when you were like this. not when you had lost the only person who could make you feel what you did for abby. and who could even be here at this hour? but her knocking is deafening, goddamn incessant, and you can’t ignore it. you get up from bed, walk to the door, and your heart drops. it’s her. and your eyes are red. your heart is frigid, vacant. you can’t feel a thing but the cold, rainy wind on your cheeks as soon as you open the door. and abby’s there. blonde braid soaked, face red. she’s been out here for a while, obviously. but she couldn’t leave, not when you were at stake. “abby?” you’d mumble, and she wouldn’t even answer. she cups your face in her hands, pulls you close, kisses you. and when she pulls back? “baby,” she whispers, and it’s sweet, and it’s endearing, and it’s sorrowful, but it’s home. her kiss says sorry. what she calls you only yells it. and when she pulls you into her arms, embracing you like she’ll never let you go again, because she won’t? she doesn’t need words to explain it. “i promise you i will learn from my mistakes.” because she would never make the same one again.

and just to add in this lyric: “tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace” abby anderson could never replace what was irreplaceable. you were everything to her. you were perfect. all that she wanted. all that she craved, come hell or high water, no matter what happened. and she’d be damned if she ever let you slip from her fingers again.

[lovelesslittleloser]

Tbh this has been on my mind for MONTHS

Human codes… but they’re not actually codes??

A small group of humans is discovered by some curious aliens. Both sides can assume that the other is sentient. The aliens are trying to translate the humans’ language to their own, and the humans are trying to learn the aliens’ language. But since humans are tricky, they’ve decided that they don’t want the aliens to know their language, so they can have secret conversations.

So they go a little crazy. With written words, they randomly use lowercase and capital letters, even using numbers and symbols, and use a lot of slang, occasionally using words incorrectly on purpose. They’ll jumble the words a bit so that only human brains can guess their meaning (that thing where if you use all the letters and put the proper letters at the beginning and end it’ll be comprehensible), and even use additional or unofficial languages (commonly known words like ‘hola’, ‘si’, ‘oui’, etc, and piglatin, in which you typically take the first letter or syllable of a word, place it at the end, and add ‘ay’ to the end).

As for spoken words, they will do a bit of the above, mashing languages and slang, perhaps mispronouncing a few things, and quoting memes, vines, movies, and even singing parts of songs to throw off the aliens. Perhaps they will say something with a somber meaning in a joyful way to throw off the meaning, or even just naturally (‘I wanna die!’ ‘Mood’), or vice versa.

Additionally, there would have to be a TON of body language. Maybe even sign language, should they know any. Gestures and expressions, eyebrow wiggles and poorly-hidden grins. Ah, the beauties of communication.

[snurtle]

I've been thinking about the templars lately. they were promised honor, virtue, told that they would be charged with protection of the innocent... And then those same people are systemically exploited and abused, abuse others because they're taught to regard everyone else as either sheep who need to be lead or potential threats. Never equals, except in their brothers/sisters-in-arms. They act as the guard-dogs and military arm of an entirely different organization that they're only a functionary member of but have no governing say in. Even the chantry aren't their equals- they function as the templar order's supervisors! And all this isolation and closing of ranks ends in disability, addiction, death, and abandonment by the system they spent their bodies in service of.

To top that off, retaliations against them just confirm the paranoia they were taught to embrace. It's probably a long hard road to get out of that hole.

Like, listen. the dichotomy of mage vs templars is a satisfying and easy one, but the system is tearing them apart too. have you ever heard of a retired templar?

at the end of it, mages and templars need to unite against the real threat. the chantry.

[the-random-phan]

Sides of a Coin

[bby-deerling]

crackerbox palace (zoro x reader)

dedicated to the anon who wanted to see artist!reader joining the crew! i got a bit carried away, so this one's a bit longer! as always, this can be read standalone, but is part of my larger zoro x artist!reader continuity.

ft. fem!reader, artist!reader, fluff, strawhat antics, sanji being sanji, a bit of canon divergence to allow for reader to join the crew

wc: 1.8k masterlist

Shortly after the events at the Baratie, the Merry docks for a brief supply restock at a small island nearby.  With Zoro grievously injured, Nami sends Luffy and Usopp out to find a proper doctor; when they return with a painter in tow, she sighs, not sure why she expected them to heed her directions in the first place.

The allure of a quick portrait painting by a street vendor was too tempting for Luffy and Usopp to resist, and you jumped at the opportunity for some customers, and some good company.  Rambling about your dream to be a painter renowned enough to leave a permanent mark on history gets your muses excited, and they shared their own dreams in turn.

“Can’t believe I’m lucky enough to paint the future King of the Pirates!  I wish I could capture the rest of your journey!” you gushed, grin plastered across your face as you spun around your canvas to show Luffy your first finished piece.  Stars in his eyes, he praised your work with excitement, and nearly ruined the painting as he eagerly inspected it; however, as you motioned Usopp to sit take his place and sit for his portrait, you picked up on a faint sense of gears turning in the rubber boy’s head as he watches you.

As you worked, putting more effort than usual into steadying your wrists on account of how hard the two of them were making you laugh, movement blurring in your peripheral vision breaks your focus—a petty thief was reaching for the great “Captain” Usopp’s wallet.  His slick fingers were fast, but you were quicker to the draw, brushes clattering on the ground and paint streaking across your clothes as you reached for one of your throwing knives, launching the blade straight through his hand and pinning it to the ground.  The three of you quickly ran the pickpocket off, and after some lively conversation, you returned to your task of capturing Usopp’s likeness, refining the forms of the highlights and shadows on his face.

“How come you jumped in to help us?” the sniper asked, eyeing you curiously while trying not to move too much.

“When I paint someone, I feel like I leave a piece of my soul in the work.  I feel a connection with the people I paint—I know we don’t know each other well, but I feel a responsibility to take care of my friends.” you said, sheepish grin on your face and an echo of loneliness in your voice.  Pink flush tickled your cheeks, embarrassed at getting attached so quickly to the exuberant strangers that had captivated you all afternoon.

“Since we’re friends now, join my crew!” Luffy said decisively, his thoughtful expression from before replaced with a wide grin.

“Luffy, are you sure?” Usopp whispered hesitantly, grabbing onto his captain’s shoulder as he sized you up.

“’Course I am!” he exclaimed, throwing his rubbery arm around your shoulders, prompting you to grin and stow your materials in your travel easel.  Luffy laughed at your eagerness—he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t sure you were going to accept, after all.

“C’mon, show me to the ship, Captain!” you say excitedly once you click the final latch on your pochade box, buzzing and nearly vibrating with the promise of abandoning a stagnant downward spiral for an opportunity to chase your wildest dreams.

And it was as simple as that; here you were, boarding the Merry after a brief detour to pack some essential belongings.  Itching to travel, sail, and feel the thrill of the sea breeze through your hair, there are no reservations as you step onto the deck; one life was all you had, and Luffy’s energy had thoroughly convinced you that from this point forward, every single moment would be full of meaning, purpose, and happiness—the true kind, that feeds one’s soul with a hearty and nourishing meal.

“Hope you don’t mind being put on first aid duty for a while—we don’t have a doctor yet.” Nami says after a brief introduction, shooting a glare at an oblivious Luffy.  “Zoro’s pretty beat up.” she clarifies, handing you supplies as she motions her head towards the injured swordsman leaning against the railing.

Giving her a gracious smile as she fills your arms with bandages and salves, you nod and assure her it’s no problem at all, feeling a sense to prove yourself and get into the navigator’s good graces.

“You’ll love her, Zoro!  She fights with two knives at once!” Usopp exclaims as he and Luffy make fake stabbing motions at each other, which quickly devolves into play-fighting before Nami scolds them and gives them something productive to do, confirming your intuition was correct in assuming that she was the one who kept things running smoothly.

Zoro simply sighs, barely paying you a passing glance; one could hardly blame him as his steely gaze fixes ahead at nothing, fighting to not drift out of consciousness.  Crouching in front of him, you give him a gentle smile and introduce yourself; he gives you a curt nod in return, and you start to clean his gash.  Turning your attention from his clenched jaw, tanned skin, and short, messy mint green hair, focused doe-eyes are glued to the messy, bloody, oozing injury that looks like it had already been ripped back open a few times.

“I heard from Luffy that you got this wound from Dracule Mihawk…” you say hesitantly as you work, curious but not wanting to pry too deeply.  His stare is cautious, but a glint in his eyes urges you to continue your thought.   A spark lights behind your gaze as your lips curl upward.  “It’s exciting, isn’t it?  That he sees your potential?  That means you’re really gonna do it—you’re gonna be the World’s Strongest Swordsman!”

Upon hearing your words, a slight smile forms on his face and you truly look at him for the first time.  Sunset casts a soft orange light, warm and comforting, over his tired face; you feel your heart stutter as you smile back at him.

“Makes every bit of the pain worth it.” he replies, letting his grin grow larger until another dab of anti-septic makes him cringe again.  Remnants of a smile still on your face, you let your bottom lip pout apologetically, silently sympathizing with his discomfort.

“I know it hurts, but it looks a bit infected—we gotta make sure we keep this clean.” you mumble, voice trailing off as you become intently focused on tending to the areas of his wound that were starting to secrete a mystery yellow liquid.

Though the task at hand was less than appetizing, the tantalizing scent of something brewing in the ship’s kitchen intermingles with the scent of chemicals and sea salt in the air; as if on cue, a pair of suave footsteps nearly dances beside you, breaking your concentration and making you huff in annoyance.

“What goddess has taken such pity on a man such as me on this lovely evening?  Does this gorgeous creature have a name she could—”

“We know each other, Sanji.” you say dryly, only sparing him a momentary glance before going back to cleaning Zoro’s wounds as he laid back against the railing of the Merry.  The cook is shocked enough by your words to pause his professions of adoration and scrutinize you, scanning each of your features intently to try to place your face.  Eventually, a wave of recognition washes over his face, light sparking in his eyes at the successfully recovered memory.

“Of course we do,sunshine.” he says after a long pause, before informing you and the swordsman that dinner would be ready in a few minutes.  You nod and go back to your job of patching up Zoro, and Sanji finds himself lighting a cigarette and lurking behind the mast to observe you and eavesdrop on your conversation with the swordsman.

“What was that about?” Zoro asks curiously, wincing as you dab his oozing flesh with more anti-septic, inspecting it carefully before finally reaching for a roll of bandages.

“Met him at the restaurant a few years ago.  Went with my family—they were regulars, but they only brought me once in a blue moon.” you reply, biting the inside of your cheeks, deep in focus.

“He make a pass at you?” he asks with a smirk that only grows wider when you giggle mirthfully in return.

“’Course he did, have you met him?  He made plenty of moves on my mother too.  My brother would always tease her and say Sanji was her little boyfriend.” you say, smiling up at the swordsman; you were already embedding your way under his skin, and making jokes at the dopey lovesick cook’s expense only endeared you to him more.

Zoro throws his head back and laughs, and you end up in a giggling fit, leaving the still eavesdropping Sanji with his jaw agape and feeling like he was in a fever dream, shocked at how quickly you were getting on the stoic swordsman’s good side.

“Stick around me and I’ll keep him out of your hair for you.” he says, ruffling your hair as you tie the last of his bandages.  Your grin spreads from ear to ear, cheeks flushed pink, and Sanji swears your eyes are sparkling as they meet Zoro’s—if he wasn’t so jealous, he might swoon at such a display of chemistry.

Instead, he lets the monster in his chest, green as the mosshead’s hair, take over, and bitterly interrupts the sweet moment, informing the two of you that dinner was ready to be plated.

The swordsman nods in acknowledgement and pushes himself up onto his feet; reaching his hand out, he offers you his hand as if you were the one injured, confident grin on his face as you take it and he pulls you up.  

“You’re a painter right?  Do ya’ draw too?” he asks, walking beside you towards the kitchen, sun nearly sinking behind the horizon.

“I do—I’m better with paints, but it’s a fundamental skill so I practice often.” you reply as you take a seat next to him at the dinner table, giving the rest of your new crewmates a smile and wave.

“That so…I’ve got a few ideas for some cool poses.” he says, getting up to demonstrate one, putting one hand on his hip and holding his other sword up high above his head.  The sight is captivating to you, and goofy to the rest of the crew, who start laughing and calling him a dork—Usopp even tosses a dinner roll in his direction, causing Sanji to bark at him and force him to eat it off the floor.

Taking a bite of your mouthwatering baked salmon, the explosion of flavors on your tongue causes a dopey grin erupt on your face; your heart was full and brimming with the happiness and bliss of having new friends, delicious food, and for the first time in a long time, hope of an optimistic future.

Having a new favorite crewmate felt nice too.

[tawus]

Me: "I'm reading One Punch Man manga for the engaging plot, the intentional and thinly veiled derision of the hero-villain dichotomy, the fast-paced action, wholesome comedy, and Murata's god-tier art style"

The engaging plot, the intentional and thinly veiled derision of the hero-villain dichotomy, the fast-paced action, wholesome comedy, and Murata's god-tier art style:

[beanghostprincess]

tired of people completely ignoring luffy's insane obsession with zoro!!! it's always "zoro's devotion this" and "zoro worshipping him that"!!! what about my boy luffy absolutely being head over fucking heels for his swordsman??? what about luffy being constantly afraid of losing zoro the way he's lost other people???? what about luffy being so clingy because he needs zoro so so close it hurts to be apart from him???? what about his possessiveness over zoro??? that's HIS swordsman!! what about luffy trusting zoro blindly and knowing he'll be fine if he needs to lead the crew??? c'mon! luffy's love is different but it doesn't make him any less obsessed with zoro.

[cadiebug]

Steve tries to not take up space. He tries so incredibly hard to not exist too much in someone else's space. He avoids occupying even his own space. The house he's supposed to be living in, is barely lived in at all, and his bedroom looks like an interior design ad straight out of an outdated magazine.

He doesn't have many things to physically take up space either. He's got like two books, one from Robin and one from Eddie, a couple photos that he shoves into his wallet when he decided that he would rather live in his car than his own house, and a coffee mug that was a joint gift from all the kids that said "world's best grandma" on it.

A lot of the clothes he had ended up at Robin's or Eddie's. And Steve swore he would get them at some point, but before he could do anything, Robin microfolds half of her own clothes and makes a space in her drawer for Steve's clothes.

Steve just thinks that she likes to steal his sleep shirts.

The clothes left at Eddie's get washed by Wayne and they just end up in Eddie's dresser.

Eddie steals Steve's sleep shirts too. He says they're comfortable and Steve just tells him to avoid smoking in them.

His books end up sitting on Eddie's bedside table, next to the weird little container Eddie keeps his rings in.

Steve loses his coffee mug to the Munson kitchen cabinet, and he finds it on a Sunday morning before he has to go to work.

It was nestled between two stacked pink plastic cups, and Wayne's ridiculously old portable mug.

He knows for a fact that Eddie had to have seen it in his car, taken it inside and washed it with last night's dishes.

And he almost cried, he didn't, but the sound he made was close enough to a choked off sob that it got Eddie's attention, who had been sitting on the couch, watching something with the muppets in it, and chewing on a metal spoon.

Eddie almost tripped rushing over to Steve, and Steve didn't say anything, he just pointed between Eddie and the cabinet, and pointedly ignored the wetness in his eyes, before Eddie reached his arms out and Steve just fell into them.

He would have been embarrassed, but Eddie had on hand in his hair and one on his back and Steve just says thank you, over and over again, like a mantra.

And Eddie was probably confused and concerned, but he just kept telling Steve it's okay, and he just kept holding onto him.

[riant-draws]

go read Leaving Only Rust Behind by @clubsheartsspades if you haven't, and if you have, do it again XD

this fic is so, so good. not only is the writing awesome (lots of fun details if you look close), but the characterization is delightful, both heartfelt and heart-wrenching. my favorite, FAVORITE scene is, well, near the end of chapter 19 GAAAAHHH /pos

ALSO! GO GO READ THE SEQUEL! (From Rust We Rise) I've only just started it myself but mmmmmmm does not disappoint

(haha not me drawing a scene from the one chapter pebbs isn't a slugpup... seriously tho I can't draw scugs (or animals) to save my life. send help)

[soarrenbluejay]

Can’t remember where I’ve seen the idea first but I’ve had this idea of Regular Clowns taking offense to joker’s bullshit for a while now and exacting Vengeance. The man doesn’t even has an egg! His ass never been to clown school! He’s a disgrace to them all!

So four buddies leaving the traveling circus business decide as people who have loved every second of this and are Deeply Insulted by this wanker to Do Something About It.

Three of them are showmen- an acrobat, a juggler, a fire fanatic, the works.

The last one, Jerry, is a stage hand. He is their most powerful member- not only does he have the superpower of self care, but he’s a meta! Minor telekinesis is actually really useful when shuttling stuff around in a stage in a hurry! (And that whole thing of our idea of ninjas coming from stage hands in all black being ‘invisible’ yeah. Cryptid vibes, except it’s just Jerry)

So. A clown car pulls up in Gotham, in the middle of a Joker attack, presumably despite ever Gothamite on the road who saw it making their best effort to take one for the team and mow them down. This is a no good awful sign for Gotham.

But it gets better.

Because out does not step a bunch of goon reinforcements in masks, or some jokerified poor soul, but instead someone in one of those historical jester costumes, bells and dramatic ass sleeves and all. Also, they’re bright orange. It is slightly eye searing. In one hand is the end to a long line of tied together handkerchiefs in clashing neon colors which appears to be infinite bc it just keeps coming. In the other is a comedically oversized hammer with a squeaky sound effect installed but no spring to soften the blow- it in fact has spikes with little Mayfair banners hanging off.

They immediately attempt to strangle/bash Joker to death with a winning smile firmly in place, and actually survive the attempt of which by apparent virtue of being made of rubber or something. And out slides our fire master, in all teal for contrast, who promptly throws smoke bombs at the crowd of goons around and starts all but boa staffing them down with his fire wand, paired with a dramatic speech about how Joker is in insult to the idea of circus and also the most unfunny bitch to ever walk the earth.

Lastly, the juggler. They have come armed. With glitter and hackysacks. A dramatic beatdown ensues, with much shrieking and yelling on all sides. A gif is made of Joker being bonked right through a concrete wall with a move right out of a video game. Several goons get concussions a la bowling pins. It’s all being live streamed by someone through their apartment window and is rapidly going viral. It’s a good time mostly because this attempt at vengeance against the Clown Bitch Gotham did not immediately involve some one getting very anticlimacticly shot.

No really takes note of the guy in all black and ski mask, calmly standing in the middle of the flaming chaos. He occasionally holds out a new set of props for the juggler, an oversized great sword for our acrobat jester, some nitroglycerin for blowy uppy efforts, the works. Until he starts calmly putting together a three story set of scaffolding for the gang to use for the purpose of beating the crime king’s skull in in even more ridiculous ways and also so jester can showcase their absolute lack of a spine.

And Jerry goes back to standing in the middle of this chaos, apparently unaffected by Literally Everything going on. His friends are fucking crazy, he’s used to it.

Meanwhile, Ghost King Danny gets a new urgent appeal at his ghostly royal desk- someone is attempting to enact vengeance against the joker and move approximately 46363883 souls along doing it, except it’s not the Red Hood this time! It’s Some Random Guys that a minor mischief god is now attempting to fast track layering with blessings! Said minor god is officially appealing for the Ghost Monarch’s support. Danny is conflicted- on one hand, he Fucking Hates Clowns. And has a major hero worship thing going on for Red Hood, a fellow supernatural hero (in the dead’s eyes) much his senior. However, the idea of a bunch of nobody’s beating the joker to death at the same time as declaring how shit of a clown he is IS pretty hilarious.

He gives it the stamp of Yes, provided others seeking vengeance (aka red hood, the thousands of joker victims in Gotham, anyone who wants to go spectacular viral) can still intervene to catch some own hands, a minor merriment/will of the people god does a jig on the spot, and back with the Justice Circus Brigade, ghouls and Spectors alike start popping up to join in on the fun! Which our beloved ren faire rejects are actually pretty okay with- big enough circus events in the DC universe have a bad habit of becoming possessed/very obviously haunted/Ooky Spooky like, every few months. And these guys look much friendlier than whatever the hell has been in the house of mirrors these last few months!

Red Hood isn’t sure how he’s suddenly in the middle of upper Gotham when he’s was decidedly Nowhere Near three seconds ago, but that’s a problem for later when the Bitch Ass Clown Extraordinaire is Right There!! So he tables it to be very paranoid about later, shrugs, and starts shooting. Jester starts shouting out points for accuracy/comedy, Jerry calmly asks if he wants some of their backup silver bullets just in case The Target really is an unholy being of some sort. (They have taken Precautions. For Everythinf. Or at least Jerry did.) Jason can’t say no to free extra ammunition and also That’s Hilarious, man he has to hire these guys!

Then fire juggler molotov’s the joker, and he decides these idiots are ABSOLUTELY worth saving from the big bad bat. Fuck it, this morons are the BEST.