#I wrote this post years ago

[zilabee]

A massive long post only I will care about, the best kind of post \o/ A meme about my fic, the wild and windy night.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It was meant to be a super quick fives times h/c fic to get all my favourite h/c scenarios into one fic, and the first chapters I wrote like that, super short easy sketches, and then I tried to write the last one just the same, but I realised something big needed to happen to make them actually see each other... and so I did a Terrible Thing to Paul.  And I did it without thinking, and then I realised that I didn’t know how to fix it, and having John show up and take care of him was basically useless because he wasn’t going to be okay and it was awful.  But I also couldn’t think how to change it, so I wrote eight longer less easy chapters trying to make him be okay, and then it was set in shape and I let it exist. 

2: What scene did you first put down?

The first one. I write things in their order. I mean I leave hard bits badly written and go back to them, but I write them badly before I go forward because otherwise I genuinely don't know what happens next.  How do you know what they’re going to do until they’ve done it?

3: What’s your favourite line of narration?

They are worn and grubby and beloved of the earth.

I don't know why but I really like it. I'm aware there are much more meaningful bits in my fic, and more poignant, but all the same.

I'm also fond of:

He is sitting on the floor and the floor is imaginary.

4: What’s your favourite line of dialogue?

"You're the one that broke it." "Ah, but it's your window." "Ah, but I haven't got any hands, you see."

I think being able to say that is why Paul needed John, more than any of the other things he needed him for.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The bit that I didn't write, where they talk about Klein and Apple and why it had all hurt so much. I stopped writing the fic for about three months when I got to that scene, because I kept writing myself into a corner where they actually had irreconcilable differences and kind of hated each other. Which was not my hope.

You know in the real world where they said they would have phone calls and it was fine until they would talk about business and then they hated each other? That. It made me doubt the existence of love or the possibility of reunion.

In the end I did get something I vaguely liked, about how it had been the first time they wanted different things, and acknowledging the pain of that on both sides, but I had to cut it out because it bogged them down further than I could deal with. I also think not really addressing it is more realistic than finding the words when they were both drunk and exhausted.

Of what stayed in, the hardest part was the ending (penultimate chapter, not the happy add-on) because I knew Paul wasn’t just going to be completely okay within a few weeks or something, and it’s odd writing fic that isn’t slash because the ending is usually just ‘THEY ARE TOGETHER AND HAPPY NOW’ but in this I just got them as close to committed to each other as I could, and was vaguely honest about the fact that they would probably fuck it all up as soon as we left.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s longer than all my other fic by about 20000 words.

7: Where did the title come from?

I think subconsciously I might have written the entire fic to fit inside a long and winding road, but honestly it was just a lovely surprise when I went looking for a title and realised that Paul wrote me a song! 

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Only the real people and events that are in it.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Nope. What is this? Do people write ten versions of their fic and then pick the best?

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

Because they were in it.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I like the rhythm of it, and the stillness. I like that it’s finished and whole.  I really like that after George tells Paul the thing about how John is going to fall apart, they NEVER SPEAK AGAIN and Paul doesn’t even really explicitly think about George again.  I kept thinking I should fix that but it’s honestly one of my favourite bits, and closure would ruin it.  The way that Paul's messed up relationship with George isn't even something he thinks of as needing fixing, is so special to me.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

It’s odd because if you’d asked me at the time, I would have had a huge list of things I flat out hated about this fic.  HATED.  I can’t overstate how much I hated the entire thing when I was posting it, like I would post new chapters to tumblr and write huge essays in the tags about how awful it was and how much I hated it and how nobody should look at it - and then I’d delete them all before posting, because I know that’s annoying, and it never sounds sincere, it sounds like you’re begging for reassurance.  And I didn’t want reassurance.  I honestly just wanted to post my fic without anyone looking at it.  Although at the same time I genuinely really appreciated the comments because I could feel like even though it was an awful dreadful thing, people couldn’t tell.  So it was okay.

I think I’d read it and edited it so many times that I was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything at all any more, it had no emotion in it, and I’d cut out any of it that ever made any sense, it all seemed forced and stupid and bare and I couldn’t stand looking at it. I literally posted it because I knew that if I didn’t I would edit it forever, and I never wanted to look at it again.  I clearly remember thinking to myself: ‘well it’s never going to be good, you should just post it and then at least it’ll be dead’. 

But now I read it back and I really love it, I’m kind of proud of it, I think it’s quite sweet.  I guess... there are still small parts where I think the rhythm’s wrong, and I got stuck in John's headspace for a huge chunk towards the end and couldn't find a way around that which still annoys me.  But not enough to care or fix it.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

"Bill Haley's whole back catalogue is running through John now"

I don't really listen to music when writing usually, but with this Two Hound Dogs was in my head from the moment they got drunk and it was late and cold and there was this whole feeling of so much weather outside that it almost feels like weather inside, and Bill Haley's music was running through all of it, so I left him in it, because he seemed to want to be there. And I listened to Two Hound Dogs every time I touched it.  It's music from the years when John found Paul, so it fits that way - I'm aware John was not fond of Bill Haley, but I kind of liked that. And I didn't know at the time, but there's also that thing where Paul says he went to see Bill Haley once, and people read it as saying he met John there, so that makes it more nicely meaningful and less random.

14: What happens after the end of this fic?

I think John needs countryside as much as Paul does, so I think he settles into being a part of their life pretty well, and then when it’s too quiet spends weekends with the others or down in London, and eventually he probably comes back from one of those trips with his new fancy posh gallery owner boyfriend in tow, and introduces him at dinner and both John and Linda get to watch Paul navigate John having a boyfriend \o/  Happy days.  And then... I think they’re just sort of happy enough.  Paul would learn to make music using one finger, like overdubbing little bits of piano with each other, and creating acapella albums, and generally finding new ways to do whatever occurred to him.  And then electronic stuff would come in and he’d be all over that. 

15: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

No. Was my big angstfest of platonic soulmate reunion supposed to be secretly educational?

16: What did you learn from writing this fic?

That I should finish editing a fic before I start posting it. And that people who comment on chapter by chapter fic are just insanely kind, like wow.

[lady-shadow-and-darkness]

Hear me out :

Teen Dazai and Chuuya going around finding every single arcade in the entire city and always having the very top two high scores in most of the games to the point where every single teen who has ever lived in Yokohama and has gone to any arcade is like "I don't know who the fuck Mackerel and Slug are but they're annoying."

[ratbastarddotfuck]

idk man my sense of masculinity is built upon joy and strong hugs and big laughs and protecting the people around me by drawing the attention of assholes to myself. when I was younger I used to go for the "brood and be grumpy" shtick, and it just made me and the people around me feel bad. I think my power now is in the ability to unwaveringly be a silly goofy guy. I want to bring laughter & love to a space. and obviously that's not a uniquely masculine trait (there's no such thing) but it's one of the biggest factors in how I experience my transmasc gender. god. I love being big and loud and full of love. promise me you won't be afraid to be bold?

[originalartblog]

I can excuse Dazai not trying to nullify Shibusawa's fog because Fyodor was there, and they really could have just incapacitated Dazai and gone right back to their nefarious plan

but the facts are that Shibusawa was unknowingly keeping himself alive as a singularity and Dazai can nullify singularities, so there was a much less convoluted way to stop him.

[calware]

why is vriscourse still a thing like it's 2024. at this point i feel like the general purpose of vriscourse is the discussion of "is vriska good or bad?" obviously the discussion gets more complex than that but that's the idea it boils down to. what confuses me is that it's pretty obvious that homestuck is not a simple story like Snow White or Mario or whatever where the characters are 2D and either Good Guys or Bad Guys, so why do people treat vriska like she has to fit into that binary too? we don't walk around in the real world labeling people as "100% good" and "100% bad" (or at least. i hope you all aren't) so why do people try to do so with vriska? and even when she gets labeled as "neutral" it still feels like the wrong conclusion to draw because that doesn't really acknowledge any dimension to her character either

[0039pf-third-blog-hooray]

leon is urgently called on a mission

leon: sorry, mr. president, i'm in madrid. with the daughter of the previous mr. president. no, i can't, i'm at a wedding. mr. president, this is my wedding. no, not with the daughter of the previous mr. president, luis serra. yes, a criminal in 10 countries, but like i said, i’m in madrid.

there’s a wedding march in the background

by @pol-parketny

[calmbigdipper]

What you mean to me

[thepowerofswayze]

shoes

pairing: clapton davis (2011) / gn!reader

word count: 290 [ a shorty ;( ]

warnings & info: fluff, gender neutral

summary: clapton likes doing things for you- like tying your shoes

note: can you tell the jhutch hyperfix died. please lie and say no 😩😋

☆

You were standing to the side of the hallway, books clutched in your hands, a grin making your cheeks hurt. “I can tie my own shoes, Clapton,” you said, watching as the boy dropped to one knee and tapped your leg.

“I know,” he replied. You offset your leg slightly, moving the untied shoe closer to him. “I got it though, babe.”

This was not the first time he’d done this. Clapton seemed to love doing things for you, no matter how easily you could complete the task yourself. From getting you lunch to grabbing your favorite drink before school to walking you to every class, even though it made him late. He’d most often open doors for you, dramatically shutting your car door when you tried to do it yourself, sending you into a fit of laughter as he reopened it with a flourish and a bow.

“Why, thank you,” you’d snicker fondly, taking his outstretched hand.

He’d bring the back of your hand to his lips, the action exceedingly comical when compared to his highlighter yellow tank top and basketball shorts.

Now, he was standing up, your shoe double knotted and snug. He adjusted your backpack on his shoulder, his own on the other, and held his hand out for yours. You grinned, shifting the few books in your own arms to one side and taking his hand. “You’re too much,” you said, before squeezing his hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I like it.”

Clapton’s cheeks flushed as he beamed, squeezing your hand back gently. “Yeah, well, you know,” he shrugged, embarrassment fresh and genuine as if this hadn’t happened countless times before. It made you laugh, and you pressed another kiss to his smiling lips.

[daddyplasmius]

Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.

Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.

Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.

Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.

It is quite literally just Danny.

Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.

And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.

Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?

Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.

[the-broken-pen]

“I’ve never used a gun before,” the hero swallowed, mouth dry. They had never needed to, but now—

The villain’s head lolled over to look at them. A lazy grin spread across their face.

“Don’t worry,” they held the hero’s gaze, unflinching. “I have.”

The gun went off. Across the room, one of their enemies dropped, blood splattering against the wall.

Still, the villain didn’t break eye contact, content to shoot without looking. They hit their target every time, but still—

“Can you please look where you’re pointing that thing?”

“Why,” the villain tipped their head, and that shit eating grin was back, “Am I making you nervous, hero?”

The hero grimaced as the villain sent another target sprawling onto the floor. Surely they had to run out of ammo eventually?

When the hero didn’t respond, the villain laughed.

“Oh, I am. Well, that’s adorable, frankly.”

The hero flinched at the next gunshot, and the villain nodded their head towards the hero’s gun. “If you were to—and bear with me this is a crazy idea—help me, this would be over with way faster.”

The hero looked down to their gun, shifting it side to side in their hands. It didn’t look all that hard. Point, aim, shoot. They could do that, right?

They lifted their gun, aiming at the nearest combatant—

The villain slid to a stop next to them, tsking, and their hand settled onto the hero’s gun too quickly for them to see. “Not-no not quite like that,” they hummed in the hero’s ear, and though they couldn’t see their face, the hero knew they were amused. 

The hero’s jaw clenched with irritation.

“First,” the villain murmured, far too close, “Safety needs to be off.” They clicked something on the hero’s gun, repositioning the hero’s hands as they did. “Second,” they continued, and the hero shivered. “Don’t aim at me, love. You like me too much to kill me.”

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

The villain half rested their chin on the hero’s shoulder, batting their eyes. Their free arm jerked up, firing a shot behind them at someone who had evidently gotten too close to the two of them.

“I am,” they grinned. Their hand rested over the hero’s once more. “Now, aim,” they guided the hero’s hand towards the nearest enemy. Their finger slipped over the hero’s on the trigger. “And shoot.” They pulled down on the trigger, trapping the hero’s finger underneath theirs, so when the gun fired, they fired it together. The hero winced.

It was louder than the hero had thought it would be.

Across the room, the body dropped.

“Good,” the villain praised, voice low, and something stirred in the hero’s chest. “Again, love.”

They guided the hero through the motions once more.

By the time there was no one left to fight, the villain was staring at them with a look they couldn’t decipher. It was all encompassing. Hungry. Wild.

The hero cleared their throat, and the villain smirked like they knew what the hero was doing.

They eyed the hero, still with that look on their face.

“God, you’re pretty with a gun in your hand,” the villain cursed. They stepped closer. The hero didn’t move, holding their breath as the villain wiped a splattering of blood off their face. “Pretty covered in blood, too, but that might be a bit too insane for you, hm?”

The hero’s face went hot. It wasn’t, they thought. They wanted to kiss the villain so badly they worried it might be a sickness, twisting their mind, something terminal. But still, that smile—

The villain stepped away. They scanned the hero’s blushing face, and grinned harder at whatever they saw.

Gently, they took the gun from the hero’s hands, vanishing it behind their back.

“The next time you need someone to show you how to shoot, give me a call,” they nodded towards the hero’s hands. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my hero, now would I?”

The hero couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face.

The villain winked, stepped back, and was gone.

My hero.

Oh, the hero was well and truly fucked.

[fabdante]

The Party Animal and the Goth

Duncan tried to tell her before they showed up that this would be different. She should give it a try. It’d been years since the last party she went to with him (she’d been dating Trent at the time to, something Duncan further blamed for her bad time). Maybe she’d like it now. And Duncan wouldn’t leave her alone, he swore. No awkward hanging out by herself and the dog should they have one. And if Trent was there, Duncan would punch him just for her. Blah blah. All sorts of promises. Well. She wasn’t into it. Like she said she wouldn’t be. Duncan fucked off somewhere else. Like she thought he would. And she saw her ex Trent floating around and she was doing everything in her power to avoid any awkward small talk that would ensue the second he saw her again. Like she feared.  Of course the party was going to be that predictable. She should have put money on it. And there wasn't even a dog. Around midnight she’d gotten sick of the whole thing. But Duncan was off doing something (hopefully not someone) and Geoff found her. They talked. She mentioned maybe looking for DJ and leaving. But Geoff lit up like she’d just told him he won a prize and her night got a little weird. Instead of just saying bye or helping her find DJ or literally anything else, Geoff was instantly offering to talk her back to her dorm. So that got her where she was now, walking with Geoff away from his party.  What the fuck.

Summery: A classic 'Geoff walks Gwen home' story set in the year of 2013/2014, in which Gwen has decided to leave a party early and Geoff has decided he'll walk her home. (College AU, no camp.)

Words: 4,274

Rating: Teen (swearing)

Read Here!

[incorrect-riordanverse]

um sorry but true love is when the most hotblooded scariest hostile warrior in camp falls in love with some hispanic boy who’s been completely discarded by whoever his godly parent may have been, thereby fuelling a resentment leading to him betraying the camp of which the warrior is extremely loyal too, yet instead of going after him when finding him at his weakest (abandoned and literally insane from the pain he’s in) she fights FOR him and does everything in her power to rehabilitate him because, through and through, she loves him still

[shimmershy]

There's Only One Thing Left to Say, This Time (Undertale Fanfic)

New fanfic time! When I started writing this, I got the idea mostly because 1. I've been having trouble "moving on" from things in my own life recently and wanted to try processing it through fic and 2. it was the end of the school year for me and I had been saying a lot of goodbyes, so it felt thematically relevant. I wrote almost the entire thing impulsively at like three am a couple weeks ago and really impressed myself lol.

Chara Week Day 7: Free (I know it's over, but shhhh it still counts)

Summary:

You're having trouble saying goodbye, but the thing is that you don't have to! If you keep Resetting just before it's all over, you'll never have to be by yourself again. Right? You haven't known them long, and maybe they weren't super nice at the start, but they were there for you every step of the way. They listened to you and helped you when no one else would. You can't just let them disappear… You can't. ...But you can't keep doing this forever, Frisk. You have to let me go.

Characters: Chara and Frisk

Word count: 4,763 words

(Ao3 link in reblog!)

There's only one thing left to say this time,

I hope you're fine, goodbye.

– “Goodbye” by The Altogether

It isn’t until the third True Reset that I realize what this is all about, and when I do, I feel silly for not realizing it before.

I can still feel the way the bitterness worked its way under my skin the first time you brought everyone back. Which, is actually quite impressive on your part! Seeing as I don’t have skin anymore. I suppose it worked its way under your skin, then, because you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me in your head as you made your way through the Ruins. I should have been the one apologizing to you, Frisk. It’s no business of mine what you do with your own life, and you have no business feeling my emotions for me. This connection we have can be troubling, at times.

Still, it felt like a betrayal, and you offered me no explanation, so I could not understand.

I understood a little better when you decided to stay with Toriel for a while. Despite my obvious frustration and impatience, you sat and listened to her snail facts. You let her show you that bug-hunting spot she mentioned, and you spent time helping her run errands and letting her teach you how to cook. You even got to the point where she started giving you classes, as if you planned on staying. I assumed it was sentimentality, then. Perhaps there was something about the Underground that you didn’t want to leave behind. Maybe you weren’t ready to go back to living on the surface just yet. It’s not as if I could blame you for that one.

What I didn’t notice (and what I am noticing now), was how much attention you were giving me. And well, it’s not that I didn’t notice. I was just too busy being annoyed about it, and rightfully so. Can’t the narrator of your life narrate in peace? I do not care for superfluous conversation. And that’s not even the worst of it. Frisk, you should not be so casual about sharing control of your body, That’s like, the one thing you should never have to share. Sure, it happened one time, but I only stepped in because you were so afraid, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was me that the spears were getting shot at. That’s different. I will not take control of your body just to eat a slice of pie. Your pity for me is insulting.

What’s troubling is that it doesn't seem to be going away.

You take your first shivering step into Snowdin (for the fourth time, I can’t help but note) without so much as a glance behind you. This time, you left Toriel with no hesitation, and I know it’s because you know I didn’t want to stay. You’re not even trying to hide it. This is when I finally decide it’s time to confront you.

What are you doing? I ask.

“I’m…walking?” you respond, confused, through thoughts. Your boots crunch satisfyingly through the snow to prove your point. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I huff in frustration.

Frisk. Why do you keep Resetting?

This stops you (and your crunchy boots) in your tracks, and suddenly I can feel anxiety radiating off of you. You weren’t expecting me to ask you this directly.

When you don’t respond, I continue, a little bit of venom coating my words despite my best efforts. For the third time now, you have made it to the end, broken the barrier, only to start all over again. Do you not feel even the slightest bit of remorse?

“Of course I feel bad!” you’re quick to say, as if you’re surprised I would assume otherwise. “But…we’ll still get there again in the end; it’s not that big a deal.”

That’s a horrible excuse.

“Why’re you so angry about it?” Your voice comes out sharp in the frigid air.

Why are you so stubborn?

“What’re you even talking about?!”

You’re trying to delay the inevitable.

You’re about to debate me on that, too, in a defensive way rather than a genuinely angry way. But you stop, because you suddenly understand that I understand, and the anxiety returns. You continue walking after a brief hesitation.

Goodbyes are never easy, I say, as gently as I can. (It ends up sounding forced anyway.)

You ignore me, and I allow you to.

~~~

What are you going to do once you get back to the surface? Once you decide to stay?

You’ve made it to Waterfall at this point, having made it through Snowdin without much event. You’re getting a little tired of doing the same thing every time; I can tell, but you would never admit to it.

You kick a stone on the ground, watching as it disappears into the dark grass. “I dunno.” (“I dunno-”) (“-dunno-”)

Your own voice travels around you in echoes and fragments. You really shouldn’t talk out loud like this in the middle of all these echo flowers. Number one, it’s annoying, and that should be reason enough, but number two, you shouldn’t make a habit of talking out loud to the voice in your head at all. People are going to think you’re weird. And I mean, you’re already pretty weird, but do you really want the reputation of “the weird kid who talks to themself” stuck to you even after I’m gone?

I didn’t even realize you were listening to all that, but you flinch at that last part, not only mentally but physically too, and I try to ignore the fact that you’re proving my point.

I hum thoughtfully. You “don’t know”? That’s certainly an issue then, isn’t it?

You start to fidget with the hem of your sweater and return to talking to me through thoughts, much to my relief. “I just haven’t thought much about it.”

This is a lie. But I don’t point that out to you.

You’re in a part of Waterfall that you’ve never seen before. Admittedly, it’s not much different to the parts you have seen before, but the fact that it’s new at all is good enough for you. You’re trying to explore the area as much as you can this time around, because you’ve realized just how expansive Waterfall really is and the curiosity you came here with the first time still hasn’t left you. You’ve barely seen a fraction of the place, and you definitely won’t manage to see all of it, but you’re certainly going to try.

I might take this time to remind you that no matter how many times you’ve befriended her in the past, Undyne is still hunting you down in this timeline. So maybe taking the time to look at every blade of grass there is to look at isn’t the best idea. But whatever.

There are quite a few echo flowers growing in this area, as I mentioned before. It seems more secluded than the rest of the caverns that make up Waterfall, if that’s even possible. You can see the main path you usually walk from where you’re standing, separated from you by a large expanse of luminescent cyan water, and an overwhelming sense of calm washes over you. It’s like this is a little cove carved out just for you, safe from everything that may hurt you. It’s hard for me not to feel the same sense of calm. Whether it’s just the spilling over of your emotions or completely and entirely mine is hard to tell, but it doesn’t really matter.

Why don’t we sit here for a minute? I ask. You let out a breath and descend to the ground, hugging your knees and resting your head against the rough cavern walls without hesitation, as if you were waiting for me to say just that.

It’s nice to just be here, for me, with you, like this. Together. Your hands are intertwined in the way that I know means you’re trying to hold my hand, in whatever way you can. We look out at the stillness of the water, listening to the sound of rushing waterfalls in the distance. We both must be thinking about the same thing, now, because although I don’t agree with the Resets, I understand why you don’t want to leave, to some extent. Have you convinced me that you’re right? Have I felt this way the entire time and simply didn’t realize until now? I can’t say for certain. But I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own fear of reaching the end.

“Chara?” you say, voice cracking a little. The sound of my name spoken aloud and echoed around by the echo flowers startles me. “It’s just that…I really, really don’t wanna be by myself again.”

I feel tears pricking at your eyes. The honesty in your voice stings.

You won’t be by yourself, I try halfheartedly. Everyone will be up there with you.

You reposition to rest your head on your knees. “You know what I mean,” you whisper, and after a moment you say. “You’re not gonna be there.”

…Right. Of course.

That is the funny thing about good things, see. About journeys and stories. And lives. They end. Sometimes (always) too soon.

I do not know what I was expecting the first time you made it to the surface. What, was I just going to live inside your head forever? Would you want that? Would I? The strangest thing happened when you stepped over that threshold where the barrier once stood, when everyone else followed you out. I felt you pull away from me, and then I watched the back of your head as you walked out into the sun. It was a bit disorienting. I wasn’t seeing through your eyes anymore, I was just…there. Watching. Barely even there, because I couldn't feel you there justifying my existence anymore.

I don’t think there was a doubt in either of our minds about what that meant. As everyone else chatted in awe of how beautiful the sun was, you looked back at me (although I don’t think you really saw me, just the empty opening of the cave). There was confusion, or sadness, or panic on your face. I’ve never had to read your face from the outside before, what a funny thing to realize. Whatever emotion it was, it was enough to make you Reset. And then again, and again. It really was for my sake, then.

This makes me feel a strange mixture of things, but the feeling of guilt sticks out like a sore thumb. Frisk, I don’t want you to feel any sort of…obligation? Or anything? To keep me alive. I’ve been wanting to be dead for a long time.

It’s a lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood, but as soon as I think it, I realize how unfunny it sounds. It kind of stops being a joke when it’s true.

Still, you reply, “It’s not like that. You know that.”

You are making some awfully bold assumptions here, though they’re not entirely false. I’m inclined to ask, what is it like then? Would moving on with your life not be the best option here? Everything is going to work out for you. And, hey, you won’t even have to put up with an annoying ghost in your head anymore.

“What if I like the annoying ghost in my head?”

Well, then you’re weird. But we’ve already established that.

That gets a smile out of you. “See? You always make me feel better,” you think, and I want to roll my eyes at that. I want to remind you of all the times I made you feel worse rather than better, but I stay quiet for now.

“…Before I came here,” you start, eyes trained on the ground as you fidget with the grass there, “I was alone a lot. It wasn’t so bad, but…it wasn’t so good either.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think about it much. I had to take care of myself, and there was never anyone there…to say it’d be okay, or to tell me dumb jokes, or just be there…y’know?”

Yeah. I do know.

…

“I kinda panicked when I left the Underground and you weren’t there. You were just…gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even really mean to Reset, I just didn’t think, and I-“

You sigh.

“I just really care about you. You’re like my best friend, Chara- ‘N that’s what it’s like. It’s like saying goodbye to your best friend.”

Oh.

Ha ha. Yes, I really do know that, don’t I?

“Wait, augh. I-I probably shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I’m sorry-“

No, Frisk, there is no need to apologize. It is fine. It’s fine.

Your fingernails claw into the grass and the dirt beneath.

I know. I know what you mean. I really do.

I try not to think of my brother. I fail.

I did not think you would care so much. It’s- (stupid), I want to say, but you are not stupid. (See, caring about me always gets people hurt), I want to say, but that’s not your fault. (What did you expect?), I want to say. (I don’t believe you), I want to say. (I don’t understand you), I want to say. I can’t- I can’t say any of that. I can’t say anything to you, right now.

You- you nod, a little concerned, but you give me space. You bring your hands together again and gaze out at the water again for a minute. Then, finally, you decide to continue onwards. You have a fish monster to face.

~~~

Being here doesn’t get easier, no matter how prepared I am after each Reset. The grey, achromatic walls and floors. The feeling of despair in the air. The stillness. It directly contrasts my memories of warmth and color and love in this home. It reminds me too much of dust.

I stay quiet as you kneel in front of the save star. It glows in a steady, consistent way, light flowing out from the center and disintegrating at the edges. A comforting feeling washes over you, as it always does, and you step into the house.

It’s as lonely as ever. You should just get this over with. The monsters that are always here to greet you at this phase of your journey stop you on your way to the kitchen.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins,” one of the Froggits begins. You stand there with your hands clasped together and listen politely, as you always do. I put up a mental barrier between myself and the world and try not to listen, as I always do.

The key on the kitchen countertop glints in the other room. You wait for the Froggits to finish speaking before grabbing it and returning to the hallway. You make your way to the far end of the hall to grab the second key, too, before entering my old room.

You open the gift boxes and take the locket and dagger out without a word. I relish the familiar weight around your neck as you reach back to fasten the locket’s clasp. It helps me find the words I want to say.

Frisk. I don’t want to keep doing this.

You’re surprised to hear me speak, but you listen.

What we talked about earlier… It’s not that I don’t want to stay. I think…you’ve helped me a lot too. And I’m really glad I met you. I’m just tired of feeling stuck in the past. A part of me…wants that, but. It hurts, being here but not being able to do anything. To fix anything.

Plus, I mean. You!! The barrier’s broken thanks to you! You and…Asriel, of course. At least, it will be. Again. It’s… I’m glad it worked out in the end. Even if it took a really long time.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could stay, at least a little longer, but I don’t want to take this away from them. Or from you. I made my choice a long time ago, and this is already more than I deserve.

…

Are you…crying?

You’re holding your arms around yourself, as well. What is this???

“A hug,” you say through thoughts, sniffling.

Oh.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

It’s not your fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve kept Resetting, though. I knew it upset you the first time…”

I understand why you did it now, though. It’s okay, really.

“Okay…”

You rub your eyes with your sleeve and stand up, giving yourself a self-assured nod.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time.”

~~~

When it’s time to fight Asriel, we’re both filled with determination. The nothingness surrounding us erupts in color and light, illuminated by kaleidoscopic starbeams and glimmering stardust. Attacks rain down on you from above, and you weave your body between them masterfully. You can’t evade them all, but I’m there cheering you on. A blast from Shocker Breaker shatters your soul; I reach out to press the pieces back together. But it refused!

Asriel floats above you, smirking with confidence in his power. You aren’t afraid of him anymore. You know all too well what he’s capable of, but you know him better now than you did when you first encountered him, just a human and a flower with a million untold secrets between them. He’d laid all his puzzle pieces out before you, and you can’t help but see the whole painful picture before you now. He’s stuck in a cycle, much like you but nothing like you at all. You’re going to help him bring it to an end. (Once and for all.)

The attacks keep coming, but you persist. You reach out to your friends within Asriel’s soul and remind them of who they are. Undyne, whom you admire for her enthusiasm and sense of justice. Alphys, whose intelligence and desire to do better inspire you. Papyrus, whom you enjoy hanging out with for his optimism and dedication. Sans, who tells you jokes that make you laugh and whose laid-back attitude puts you at ease. Toriel, who cares for you as her own child and made you feel safe when you first found yourself in this unfamiliar place. Asgore, whose presence is both comforting and sad, knowing of the difficult decisions he’s had to make in his life. Once you’ve reached out to all your friends, there’s only one thing left to do.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

So you reach out to Asriel. And I do, too. He’s not the same as he was all those years ago, when we were just two kids playing in a muddy flower garden, and neither am I. But it’s still him, despite everything. He resists…and he’s still crying out to you as if you’re me. It hurts. I watch him do this every time, desperately latch on to the belief that I’m not really gone, and the ironic thing is that I have been here the whole time.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he says, confident façade cracking.

It ended a long time ago.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he says.

I know.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…”

…

“So, please…” His voice shakes, laced with despair. “Stop doing this… And just let me win!!!”

He raises his arms and summons all his magic for one final attack. Your vision is overwhelmed with color as the blast hits you, and you barely register the way he screams at you to stop holding on as your HP drops, with each passing second, to an impossibly low number. But it never reaches zero. You don’t die; your soul doesn’t shatter, because you’ve made it this far and you’re not about to give up now.

Finally, the world grows silent as the sound of magic rushing past your ears subsides. You’re exhausted, though Asriel is barely even paying attention to you anymore. He closes his eyes. Suddenly he seems so small inside his godlike form, too small to really be the Absolute God of HYPERDEATH.

“I’m so alone, Chara…” he says. “I’m so afraid…” They’re echoes of words I’ve already heard him say three times before, but they feel like acid nonetheless because it’s my fault and I’m the reason he’s like this, but you firmly tell me that it’s not. I don’t know if I can believe you, but I lean into you and try not to say anything more.

…

The world fades to black, and Asriel stands before you, looking the way I remember him once again. He’s covering his face, wiping away his tears and probably trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. He always was a crybaby, wasn’t he?

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?”

Ha. Indeed.

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “…I know. You’re not actually Chara, are you? Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

You open your mouth to protest, but… Come on, Frisk, I can’t do that to him. Not after all that.

“But… Are you sure?”

I’m not… I am not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get his hopes up.

You twist your fingers together, disappointed, but you close your mouth anyway.

I’m only half-listening as he continues, asking for your name (which you have given him three times already) and apologizing for his actions. This is the last time I’m going to see him, is it not? He will break the barrier, and then you will go to the surface with everyone else. And I… Well, I don’t actually know what will happen to me. I won’t be able to come with you. I know that, at the very least. It looks like it might really be the end for me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

You tell him you forgive him, as you do every time. It seems only fair to you, after everything he’s gone through. A part of you understands him, even though most of you doesn’t, and you hope the knowledge that somebody in the universe forgives him gives him some solace. He smiles at you sadly.

He can’t stay, he tells you. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes in concentration. The human souls gather around him as he rises into the air, hovering around him in a circle, and the monster souls follow suit, glowing in the darkness. With the combined power of the human souls and every monster soul in the Underground, each pulsing with the same desire…the barrier is finally broken.

It’s over. There’s a weighty sense of resolution to it now. I don’t want you to Reset again. I know you won’t.

I stare at Asriel through your eyes as he lowers to the ground again, head tilted down, eyes closed. He looks so tired. He tells you that he needs to go, that you should go be with the people that care about you. You should just forget about him, he says. As if that would be possible.

Every word feels like a countdown, and I want to do something, but I can’t move. I need him to forget about me. I can’t be here messing everything up. I don’t…want him to forget me. But I don’t want him to hurt remembering me. I don’t want to stay here… I don’t want to go.

You hug Asriel. To my surprise, your arms tighten around him as you allow me to slip into control. “Just for a minute,” you think. The feeling of warmth and his sweater under my fingers and my chin on his shoulder hits me so suddenly that I can’t stop my tears from running down your face. I relax into the hug, though. I close my eyes and try to forget where we are and what we’ve been through. I don’t want to let go…

When he finally pulls away, he gives me a weird look, but it’s gone in a moment.

“I’ll miss you,��� I say without thinking.

He laughs. “Please don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

“You okay?” you ask as you slip back into control. Your presence is comforting beside mine in your mind.

I am, I say. Yeah.

~~~

Outside, clouds drift lazily across the sky, a beautiful gradient from lilac to yellow to frame the setting sun. Over the edge of the mountainside, you can just barely see the tops of trees stretching out into the distance, leaves tousling gently in the breeze. Tall buildings silhouette the sky on one side, and on the other, more mountains.

The light streams in through the exit to the Underground, of which you stand behind. One of your hands is cupped over the other in front of you, and you run your fingertips over the knuckles absently. You have been standing here for a while, hesitant.

Congratulations, partner, I start in an attempt to ease the tension, you’ve saved everyone once again.

“We did,” you correct. “And Asriel.”

Of course. And now, think about it. Everyone is free for real. They can see the sun, the sky, the stars… There’s a whole future ahead of them. And you get to be a part of it. That’s amazing, is it not?

“Mhm…”

You could stay with Mom. She would make you breakfast in the morning, read you bedtime stories at night. I bet Undyne would be willing to teach you some sick fighting moves. Anime nights with Alphys.

“I could hang out with Sans and Papyrus.”

Yeah! You could learn how to make music with Napstablook. That might be fun. And Mettaton might need some help becoming a star on the surface, too.

You giggle. “I think he’s got that covered.”

Maybe. I smile along with you. But, aren’t you excited? Not everything will be easy, but you have so many people supporting you.

“I know…” You sigh through your nose. “You deserve all that too, though; it’s not fair.”

Hey. The lilac is disintegrating from the sky, fading into a deep orange. Some of the wind makes it into the cave, crisp air whistling through the doorway and cooling your skin. Hey, you know what? It’s worth it. It’s okay.

I think there are tears in your eyes again. Come on, please don’t cry.

I can’t stay here forever. I’m already overstaying my welcome, being dead and all. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago, but…I got to meet you by some miracle, and that makes it all worth it, I think. Even if I can’t stay.

“Charaaa…”

I laugh a little. Don’t worry about me, Frisk. Really. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

You hug yourself- “Hug you,” you correct. Oh. Okay. You hug me, and I, try to hug you back? It’s a little bit awkward, but I appreciate it all the same. The emotional vulnerability is starting to make me uncomfortable, but I need you to know I care about you. I know you’ll be okay.

Ha ha, this goodbye stuff is pretty hard, huh?

“Goodbye,” you say simply, with a teasing smile.

Oh, not so hard for you, it seems. Well then, “goodbye” to you, too.

I pause. …And good luck out there, partner. I think Asriel said it best: take care of everyone for me, okay? Even him.

You nod and give me a shaky little thumbs up. That’s the spirit! (Pun always intended.)

With a glance over to the others, who are in the other room, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for you, you decide you’re finally ready to go. You let everyone know, and the excitement in the room is palpable as you all make your way to the exit. They make a fuss out of you, ruffling your hair and smiling back at you. You let them leave first, and then at last, you step over the threshold yourself. I feel our connection sever.

And then I’m watching the back of your head as you walk away again. Before you reach the others though, you turn around to give me a small wave.

That’s it, I guess… I can’t exactly wave back, but I wish you well and thank you for everything. Together, you and I allow time to continue on.

[noodleblade]

Time for the dangerous task of rereading my own fic in order to know where I left off and what tone I was going for without hating the entire fic and/or rewriting it all!

[demigods-posts]

percy understands why his mom holds on to him a little tighter and a little longer with every hug. he understands why annabeth can't look him in the eye anymore. he understands why thalia goes out of her way to iris messages him every week, why grover insists they hang out in their free time despite him being incredibly busy with making the world a better place, why chiron doesn't even bother to punish him for missing curfew, and why clarisse, of all people, bites her tongue instead of insulting him.

what percy doesn't understand is why he should even try to enjoy living his life anymore. his life? he can't even call it that. not when gabe used him and his mom as a punching bag for the first twelve years of it. not when he's sitting in the counselor's office with his mom and the counselor explains that if he doesn't try harder, he won't make it to the next grade. not when he can't stop the tears from escaping his eyes on the ride home. not when he is plagued with nightmares about the brutal way he'll die in the war next year. not when despite everything he's given for the world, the gods still call upon him.

especially not when he has to fight for a life he doesn't want to live anymore.

~ shit i forgot i wrote

[theaceofarrows]

Lawyer: [holding up a photo of a dead body] Mr. Todd, did you commit this crime?

Jason: [on the stand] Bro, I can't even commit to a family dinner

[Juror in the background snickering]