#also even those few snippets i DID write did so much for my understanding of him

[soft-serve-soymilk]

idk why my brain is suddenly hung up on torturing dism but i'm here for his fraught and tortured questions :)

[trippingontheescalator]

Curious about the direction the HP fandom has gone

Okay, so as an old HP fan from way back when the books were first coming out, and then getting hit with the nostalgia and decided to return after years and years of not interacting with the fandom at all, the changes are truly mindboggling and I'd love to get to the bottom of some things.

Like, the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a fan favorite way back when we only knew his name but now I barely hear a whisper of his name. Now, the obvious answer is racism, which I think is the #1 reason why Blaise-pairings have dropped of significantly. Back then we all thought Blaise was a hot Italian girl, and then we found out he's a black man and suddenly people stop writing about him? Hm, yeah, seems the obvious answer (especially considering the popularity of other characters who are just a name on a page *cough*regulusblack*cough*).

Or the rise in Snape-hate. Like, Snape used to be the fan favorite. Everyone loved Snape. The meaner he was, the more we liked him. Being mean to children was a plus, not a negative lol. And this was back when we all thought he was a pureblood who came from a wealthy family like the Malfoys. Now by the time the 7th book came out I had pretty much moved on and so I didn't really see the fallout of readers discovering his actual background, so I don't know if his drop in popularity is classism and learning that he isn't a palette-swapped Lucius Malfoy or not, but honestly I would figure his impoverished background would be a plus in these times. Like Snape is obviously one of JKR's least favorite characters, and considering how she-who-must-not-be-named has destroyed her reputation with her increasing radicalization you'd figure the poor, abused, author-hating character would become more beloved instead of the rich, white, heteronormative bullies who barely even show up in the books. Like with our increasing knowledge of social injustice, I just don't understand why the fandom would want to latch onto the Marauders? And I just can't believe Snape's handful of snippets with Lily is the cause of his downfall (like what's there is barely enough to fill up a few pages, and there are certainly more toxic relationships in the series that are still beloved), or the fact that he was a Death Eater or that he inadvertently caused the deaths of the Potters (we already knew that in GoF and HPB respectively and he was still beloved, and this was when we assumed he didn't give a shit about the Potters or if they died when he went snitching). Draco is still popular. DRACO who doesn't give two shits about slinging around the word "mudblood," as opposed to Snape who actually changed for the better.

Am I just too old to understand? Is this like 90s fashion coming back in style (no, I won't do it again, I don't care if it's cringy I'm sticking with my millennial styles, I did the platforms and the slip dresses and the cargo pants in high school and I'm not putting myself through that again lol you gen z's can pry my comfortable mom jeans from my cold, dead fingers, I don't care if it makes me look old, that's the point, I AM old). Like, in addition to 90s fashion, has the 90s obsession with luxury athletic fashion like Lacoste come back in style? All those fashion ads of rich white people on yachts with popped collar polos? Are people starting to obsess over the Marauders because nouveau riche conspicuous consumption is coming back in style? It can't all just be young kids who have only read AtYD and have never actually opened one of the books, can it?

There also seems to be a trend of treating characters as if they're real people. I mean, we've always done it (Snape Wives, I'm looking at you), but now it almost feels as if the crimes characters commit are treated as if they're real crimes and that liking them is somehow a moral failing on the reader's fault. If you were to say "I don't like Snape, his douchy actions anger me, I'd rather skip all the parts he shows up in" I'd say, cool, I get that. That's normal. But "Snape is an abuser, a racist, and an incel and if you like him you're probably those things too" is fucking weird. Like, Harry and Hermione are not real children. Snape is not a real person. The things that happen in this book have as much influence on the real world as me imagining ninjas breaking into my workplace on a slow day. And that "media does not exist in a vacuum" pisses me off because it's blatantly misused. The pieces of media that have had serious consequences? Jaws, The Birth of a Nation. One resulted in the culling of sharks, the other helped restart the KKK. Do you know what those two pieces of media have in common? They're not about fucking wizards and magic schools. They instead paint a target on real groups. After twenty years nobody has ever tried to hurt a marginalized group of people because of a harry potter book (except for JKR herself).

Anyway, these are just some random thoughts, feel free to chime in with your own.

[meraki-yao]

I also have something to add to this anon's ask https://www.tumblr.com/meraki-yao/743384157947920384/i-want-to-hear-your-opinion-on-this-please-if?source=share (your answer is perfect as always, so if I overstep, I'm sorry if I'm not organising my thoughts clearly here)

While I'm not in the fandom, I'm still a fan, which means I follow some people to keep up, and I'm interested in what Nick and Taylor will do next.

The thing here is that there's a group within Twitter fandom that's demanding more from Nicholas. And while they're aware of his need to promote two more projects, him signing books in LA and Milan when possible, leaving Taylor on his TikTok following list*, it's not enough.

Personally, most of these stans are being dramatic because they're not getting more. So, instead of being rational, they start to “joke around” (I'll come back to this later)** by saying Nick doesn't care, he moved on, he doesn't want to be part of a sequel, Taylor and him are not friends, and they bring up his personal life and socmed activity.

A part of me wants to think these people are very young and incredibly online, so they base everything around it, ignoring real-life interactions during their outbursts. Another part of me thinks they're shippers, which eventually ends up being problematic because they see their interactions through that lens. If they don't interact, they hate each other, they are just co-workers, or something happened between them. If they interact, they're besties, they love each other, or they are something else. Like, on socmed, there's no winning for them. It's intense. You cannot see all of that, read some nasty comments, and then say, “I miss when Nick was more active here.” Like, it's obvious why he doesn't want to be active.

I sent you an ask weeks ago about parasocial relationships, and I think these things go along those lines: Most of these people think they know them, they understand their reasoning, and while we do have snippets of their personalities, we don't know them. We're not their friends, and we cannot justify bullying and nasty comments as “it's just a joke, people take things too seriously” because you think it's nice to destroy someone else's work just because you don't get your Instagram likes.

I even read “Nicholas owes us more pictures and content. It's the least he can do.” And he did, for a few days. But he's an actor — he'll have more gigs and eventually RWRB will be another project dear to him. And so for Taylor. And Taylor is signing all these books and going to these events because can go, and most importantly, it was his first leading role. He's extremely proud of the project and of him as an actor. And he'll also move on eventually.

What's more annoying is that we're all aware of a sequel project, and just because Nick is not talking about it any more, they go, “He won't do it because he hates it/now he's too big,” not noticing that they're also implying that Taylor is “less important,” which he isn't. Matthew already said that if Taylor and/or Nick aren't on board, there won't be a sequel, but hardcore fans decide to ignore that part. Nick has never been part of a project this big that actually can have a decent sequel, so there's a big chance of him being part of it. He does care.

I think some people are just very dramatic, and they're not responsible about what they write. So, based on that, it's best to curate your experience as much as possible and recognize problematic accounts/takes on people immediately. Otherwise, it won't be enjoyable.

*I think Nick has been doing some cleaning (I think it's common for him, said by people who have followed him for a while) and he's working on more projects with awarded actors. I think that Taylor has become a good friend of his within the industry, which is good. They've also said Nick's socmed activity is very random and to not be taken seriously because he does a lot of random stuff, but then again, people ignore that.

**Usually these replies come when people start to point out that their comments are wrong, cross boundaries, etc. It's like a way to deflect. But you can tell that it's not really a joke if it's repetitive, which is what's happening right now.

I truthfully don't have much to add. Your points are absolutely spot on, and you organized it very clearly. Thank you for this.

I think I'll just one thing, I was talking to @pippin-katz about this whole rivalry issue, and they said the problem is these people want certain things from the boys, and when they don't get it, they become these violent, malicious comments.

We as fans are not in a position to dictate how they should live their lives. Frankly we're not in any position to dictate people how to live their lives, no one but our own. People need to realize this.

Again, thank you so much for your addition.

[britishassistant]

I have literally just spent the last few days going through all of the twst supervillain au posts. ALL OF THEM.

It’s not 3 am here for like the third night in a row what are you talking about

I have so many thoughts and could ask so many questions but I am limiting myself for now because spamming is bad! No spamming, me! 😂

SO we got the event of Azul and the twins finding out that Yuu is the child of Crowley. And we got that little snippet saying Yuu wanted Azul to help them tell the other villains so they could just get it out of the way because they were tired of having it hang over their head.

BUT WE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT THOSE SCENES/THAT SCENE!

I wanna know how that wentttttt!!!! What happened?!?! How did it go??? Did Yuu tell them one on one? Or did they sit them all down together? How did each of them react to the news? I feel like it would have to be one on one because telling them altogether would be a recipe for a LOT of emotions all mixed together to create a volatile bomb.

Pleaseeeeee I wanna knowwwwwww!!! Please gift me us with your words of wonder oh supervillain AU writing deity!!!!!!

(Also I just wanted to say back when you were giving out names to everyone my first thought for a name for Kalim was just ‘Minion’ because you compared Jamil and Kalim to Megamind and Minion and I was like “that would be a total Jamil thing to do - just call Kalim ‘Minion’ because he was tired of Kalim getting all the attention in their civilian lives and this was supposed to be about JAMIL DANGIT so even though Kalim invited himself along he doesn’t get a cool name he just gets ‘Minion’ and Kalim would unironically love it. But then you named him Water Boy and that has the same energy lmao 😂)

Thank you so much for enjoying the supervillain AU so far!!

(Make sure you get some sleep though!! It’s important to try and maintain a regular sleep schedule!!)

And basically the answer to your question is that Yuu called a quasi-truce of sorts to sit down all the supervillains to deliver the news. Both because it was the easiest way to avoid the accusations of favoritism that would arise if the reporter went around one at a time, and ensured they’d only need to go through the whole thing once.

Of course, the other six supervillains are only willing to humor this because it’s Yuu that called it. They may have all brought their most trusted aides along with certain, ah, “safety measures” just in case anyone else tries anything, but even these are pretty tame compared to their usual fare. It’s a silent agreement that everyone is on their best behavior in front of their host.

Even if they’re a bit disgruntled by the fact that this meeting is being held in the second Monstro Lounge location, and Leviathan and the Leech twins are flitting around Yuu like a particularly jealous school of fish.

Worse, the reporter isn’t even telling them to stop.

And then Yuu finally comes out with what they want to say and—

Oh.

Oh, now the other supervillains can understand Azul’s protective impulses.

Vil and Idia are having the hardest time processing it and have the most questions, all told. Their mental image of Crowley and their mental image of Yuu are so different after all, it’s a struggle not to ask, “but has there actually been a paternity test and are we sure this isn’t just one of the world’s most depraved lies?”

In fairness, Crowley has done nothing to disabuse them of the notion that this isn’t the exact kind of behavior he would sink to if mildly inconvenienced.

Of all of them, Malleus and Riddle are probably taking it the best. After all, they both know what it’s like being the prized heirs of people who cannot afford to let them shirk their duties. Either because the well being of others’ depends on them taking up that mantle, or their parent’s pride.

Either way, they’ll support Yuu’s search for freedom from their villainous father’s legacy, by taking up the mantle of head of Night Raven themselves if need be.

Please give Leona and Jamil two to five minutes to reboot. Both have partially blue-screened at the motifs of being cast aside and the inesacabilty of family bloodline inherent in Yuu’s backstory. Once they’re back to normal, they’ll be some of Yuu’s staunchest defenders, but give them forty eight hours to process first.

Maybe eighty two.

After Yuu’s answered almost all the questions, Ace butts in, “So, you kept sticking your nose in ‘cause you wanted to get kidnapped?”

Yuu shrugs, “Not, not wanted? But it was a bit less nerve wracking if I knew I’d done something to merit being there, so to speak. Made it less likely that it was because you’d worked out my heritage.”

The other villains and minions nod, satisfied.

But Deuce pipes up with a worried frown curving his brow.

“So, does this mean you won’t be investigating our schemes anymore?”

A hush spreads through the room. All eyes are fixed on the reporter, waiting for their response with bated breath.

Yuu grins, a gloriously competitive spark in their eyes. “Oh, you wish.”

[aworldoflovely]

Trigger warning: big implications of sexual abuse as well as victim blaming. There is also some Dabi apologism.

Touya and Keigo are in VERY bad places. The self loathing is deep for both of them.

It's been a particularly difficult few months for me even though I haven't written any one BIG thing. Writing all these small snippets has greatly helped me through the hardships.

Let me know what y'all think l, if indeed anyone is actually reading these. If I mis tagged or am.missing anything please let me know and I'll fix it.

****

Keigo forced himself to meet Touya's eyes. Despite all his changes, his eyes were the same; bright, intense, and beautiful.

"I never lied to you,"

"I know."

"All the things I shared with you. All of the things I let you do with me. None of them were lies."

Keigo's jaw started to wobble, but he maintained eye contact.

"I- I know."

"You shared everything I gave you. Every little thing I trusted you with you gave it away to the people who wanted to hurt me. You let them know every personal detail."

"No! Touya, no. Nothing about us, about what we were ever went beyond us, I swear." Just the thought of anyone else knowing about all of the intimacies they shared. Large and small made something twist in his throat. Those stolen moments were just for him and Dabi. Him and Touya.

If anything, that seemed to bother Touya more.

"So you kept secrets when you were involved, but the rest of us were fair game?"

Keigo started. That wasn't how it was at all!

"No, Da- Touya, I swear that's"

Touya shook off his words

"None of that matters now. It's done. What I want to know now is why, after everything I shared about my father, why did you let him be alone with me?"

Keigo's insides turned cold. "Wha-"

"I never shared specifics, but I told you about my father. The fear, the humiliation. I also wasn't exactly subtle about what he would do with me even if I never said it out loud. I know you knew because you held me through the panic attacks. Was it because I burned your wings off? I can understand that. It's just -"

Touya sighed. "I just want to know why you stepped in only months after it started happening again? Was it punishment? Apathy? Because none of us knew that I'd heal like this."

Touya gestured to his pale, unmarked skin as much as he could, being cuffed to the table.

Keigo blinked, then blinked again, then a third time, and took in a shuddering breath.

"I'm so sorry, Touya! I'm so so sorry"

Keigo bowed over the table, lowering his head as tears choked his throat.

After the war, after losing my quirk and being left alone to head the organization that, that"

"Quirk trafficked you?"

"Haha, yeah, made me the president of the the people that fucking quirk trafficked me I didn't think about it."

Keigo raised his head and met Touya's eyes, cold but intense.

"After the reveal of who your father was, and yes after you burned my wings -

"After you killed our friend,"

"Yeah, Touya, after I killed our friend on the orders of quirk traffickers and the people who thought a full frontal assault was a smart idea. I made myself not think about it. I was so sick and angry I told myself you were a psychotic liar

"I am a psychotic liar,"

"Well, so am I. I don't know what else you can call someone who can spend months with people, fall in love with someone, and still turn on them the moment they're ordered too. "

"I'm sorry, Touya, I knew everything and chose to do nothing."

[moodymisty]

Hello, this is a request only if you are interested, I understand if you don't wanna do it. It's really hurt/comfort stuff with the intention of softness and comfort at the end. It's meant to be a Samael x s/o drabble. So basically, Lilith kidnapps s/o (seeing them as the horsemen's pet) and winds up torturing them so she can give them as a gift to Samael, not knowing how he really feels about s/o. (You don't have to be descriptive of what Lilith does, the overall premise is blood, pain, tears, and stuff. She's a mean bitch). Samael is given his s/o in really bad shape (not dead). It's up to you how it plays out, but I imagined he shows s/o a gentleness that's only for them as he tries to help them and take care of and assess their injuries. Lilith meanwhile is either jealous or disgusted by the show of mercy, (not what she expected). Maybe Samael flies into a rage upon seeing the human in such a pitiful way or he plays it cool and waits for an opening to be alone with them so he can help. It's up to you, I just wanna see Samael be all soft and gentle and show he cares about s/o. Thank you again for your generosity. I also have a different more smutty idea if you don't wanna do this one. Completely separate from this one.

Author's Note: I've never actually written for Samael at all before, I love his character but I'd never considered it, so this was a fun exercise. This is my first time writing Samael, so please excuse anything that may seem a little OOC while I get the hang of his character.

Summary: Samael saves his little songbird from the mouth of a cat.

Relationships: Samael/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Bruises, illuding to torture but no actual torture, Stockholm syndrome??? I guess, Fluff, Some brief references towards the Darksiders book 'The Abomination Vault' which is good go read it,

"Well now,"

His voice carries through the stone laden room, a booming deepness that even when he's only speaking casually, sounds almost as if he's addressing a group.

Samael.

You know the name; Lilith has mentioned it more than once when she talks to her servants and lesser demons. Those few snippets pale in comparison to seeing him, seeing how he towers larger than almost every other demon you've seen; Though still maintains a humanoid-esque shape.

You were apparently- in a way- his gift.

Lilith had cooed it to you more than once before, though she'd mostly been talking at you, as if an ornament. Rarely does she give things that don't amuse her the time of day; And simply chattering to a being she considers far inferior without inflicting some sort of suffering doesn't qualify.

It's the better of many other potential outcomes, at least. You'll take it. It isn't as if there's a choice anyhow.

Samael briefly glances in your direction, one large finger presses on the bottom of the cage that confines you as if to stop it's slow swaying, before his eyes turn back to Lilith. You've noticed her watching with intent, clearly focused on his reaction. If you had to guess, she wants something, and is hoping this will be the ticket towards pulling that favor.

"Where did you get this?"

The links of her chain belt 'tink' against each other, as she walks closer, glancing up towards the larger demon for but a moment.

"Just a little bit of sport; I know you've always been interested in Humanities, goings on."

Lilith finds it all dreadfully boring; At least anything that doesn't benefit or at least amuse her in one way or another. The demon lord takes another glance in your direction, the sharp points of the teeth visible behind his just barely parted lips.

Samael would've been quite interested in knowing how she managed such a feat, especially around the Council's watch, but Lilith seems too disinterested in the human she's captured to answer. She's much more interested in his reaction, or whatever she can get out of it. Even as boundary pushing as Samael can be, he isn't too eager to have the Council hot on his back. As well as the Horsemen; They are quite eager to keep Humanity protected, and are more than willing to obliterate anyone who goes against The Council's rulings.

Samael isn't too eager to deal with the mess of that; Particularly if it involves the youngest.

"You can do whatever you wish with it," Lilith says, her tone lightening and stringing the second half of her sentence with an almost singing tone. "Consider it a gift."

Her eyes move from the large openings in the wall revealing the dreadful hellish sky, an unreadable expression on her face. One might assume it's sultry, and that wouldn't be entirely wrong, but there is far more there; And it goes far deeper.

"You should come by more often. I have far more interesting pets than little humans." Samael's gaze turns from you to her.

"That, I am already well aware of." She seems unhappy with his response, though it seems positive on pure words alone. Maybe there's an undertone that exists only between them.

When she's departed, it's impossible not to feel the way your heart drops in your chest when you see Samael's full attention turn to you. It's just his head turned your way at first, before he fully turns and with loud, thundering steps against broken cobblestone, does he make his way towards you. The cuts and scrapes on your hands hurt as you support your weight, but the pain pushed to the back of your mind in place of fear.

The last time you had a demon's full attention was Lilith, and she isn't one who's attention you want.

"Tell me,"

You don't miss the way his tone of voice seems to change a bit now that he's speaking directly to you; Though it's easy to just assume it's purely manipulative.

"Do you sing, little songbird?"

You don't answer, mouth and throat dry. Fear is a permeant emotion to you now, and you feel it rising up more and more as you feel his glowing eyes focus on you. The way your heart hammers on your collarbone, breath short and ragged. Your jaw hurts from how tense it's been for ages, lips split and cracked.

Samael gives the cage a soft 'bonk' with one knuckle, just enough to send it shaking back and forth. It wobbles and forces you to hang on, watching him as he watches you stumble about. He can see the perpetual fear in your eyes, the way your body is slowly giving away to the amount of hazards it's been through. He's not sure how long you've been here, but it couldn't be that long, if you still have your wits about you.

Lilith always did enjoying playing with her toys until they broke.

Samael has never really made sense of it. In all of his centuries he's always operated with a goal in mind, doing whatever he could to get to it. Lilith's motives sometimes seem, short-sighted. Maybe even a little dull.

But this, now this is interesting.

Samael hasn't seen a human in many years, and while the clothing you wear is different, humanity still maintains the form the Creator originally shaped them in.

That form is, soft.

He can see the tops of your hands and wrists are dirty, covered in small bruises, the same sort running along your neck and cheeks. Your eyes are wide, darting over every inch of him in fear.

Samael stops.

Maybe it's boredom. Maybe it's the desire for something a little bit different.

Samael is old. Far older than your realm, and anything that's been built on it. But in all of those years, Earth has remained a tantalizingly forbidden fruit. The Council forbade access centuries ago, and as such, Samael has been restricted to hearing of Humanity's accomplishments and fumbling through stolen artifacts and hushed whispers.

So he's, curious.

Everything he's ever heard of humanity has been what they lack in strength they make up for in ingenuity, and creativity. And depravity; Depending on the demon you ask.

The long, clawed hand that had just rapped against the cage's bars now holds the lock, fiddling with it before he snaps it between his fingers. When the shattered pieces fall to the ground, the cage's door slowly creaks open. You eye the giant demon, as he seems look at you expectantly. There's no shortage of amusement on his face, either.

"What, you think I won't try to run?" Samael laughs, a deep baritone you can feel in your chest.

"By all means, go right ahead. Whatever you run into out there will be far less inviting than myself." He can see the thought run through your little head, until you make a choice.

You move closer towards him, hedging a bet that he'll be better than Lilith, and whatever she had in store for you.

You've seen that throne of Lilith, and her pets. Her creativity knows no bounds. Whatever end you might meet with Samael, is far better than that.

You let the larger demon take you, leaving one unknown for another.

It might've been easy for someone to scold you on not hearing him coming up behind you, but in your defense, it's easy to miss; Especially when one is distracted.

His footfall is softer than one might expect, though one probably wouldn't exactly call it soft at all. It's his voice you end up hearing first anyways, looking over your shoulder the minute it hits your ears.

"So this is where you've been off to."

You turn around, looking up as Samael approaches. His wings are casually half-folded, watching as you fiddle with a large decorative vase.

Samael's palace is huge. Enough so that it's quite easy to get completely lost.

Far better than a cage; At least in your opinion.

You don't know exactly how long it's been since you left Lilith, but it's not been enough time. The improvement has been astronomical, and you no longer feel the constant, heart pounding fear that had been permanent for so long.

Samael is, oddly nice. You'd expected it to be mostly a ploy, but while you know he's a demon, one capable many, many things, he hasn't tried anything yet.

And so you find yourself almost enjoying his company, and the idea of leaving him now almost seems like a negative. You'd miss him.

"I just wanted to take a look around."

You don't think it would qualify as a 'treasure room', but the large open space is littered with a variety of things; From broken weapons to odd pieces of art that seem clearly inhuman. Most seem to be stolen from battlefields judging by the overall wear and tear, but it' hard to be sure. Some seems like it almost hails from Hell itself, much to your surprise.

Who would've thought demons would be so artistic.

"There is far more worth seeing than whatever rubbish you were throwing around. Let me show you." He kneels just enough to gesture towards you with his hand, and you know what he's asking you to do.

As step closer Samael's eyes rake over your body, taking note of the way most of the bruises and cuts have faded away. What's left is a much more fresh face, one that isn't battered and showing of fear and fatigue.

He lets you up onto his shoulders with a gentle boost, and you take roost quickly. He can feel the gentle touch of your hands on his scale-like skin, as you hold on. He'll show you sights that Humanity has yet to see, or hasn't in millennia.

Glancing up towards you he sees the way you're eagerly waiting, and begins walking.

[flowersforbucky]

Do you have any general advice for someone who wants to post their writing but is scared to? I write a lot. But I have never posted on tumblr or anywhere else. I don't know why but I'm so nervous to.

had to add a keep reading link because i ended up rambling way more than i originally intended to 😅 sorry if this isn't helpful or isn't the kind of answer you were looking for but here's a summary of my experience with writing/posting on tumblr and some general tips -

i completely understand being nervous. i feel nervous every time i post my writing. i'm always worried that people won't like it, that it'll flop, etc. when i first tried posting bucky fanfiction about 5 years ago, and when i posted eddie munson fanfiction a couple years ago, just about everything i posted performed really poorly. i had a couple pieces that did alright but for the most part, just about everything flopped. and it was very discouraging, i would let it get to me too much for sure - i'd wonder how other people got their work to get so many notes so easily when nothing i did seemed to help.

so when i started writing/posting for bucky again a few months ago i was really nervous, since i hadn't had much luck in the past. i decided to give it a shot anyway, and told myself that i'm doing this for fun, and if people like what i put out then great, and if not then i wouldn't let it get to me because at the end of the day i'm doing this for myself, because i want to.

everything i've posted for bucky the last few months has surpassed my expectations, truthfully. i don't really know why all of my one-shots have performed so much better this time around than when i first tried to write for him back in 2019 - maybe my writing has improved? maybe i'm just getting lucky and posting at the right times? maybe it's the fact that i write more smut than i used to and the fandom seems to love that? maybe a little bit of all of those things? i'm not 100% sure, but i'm happy to give you some tips that i think work for me, at least.

also disclaimer i definitely don't think i've been doing this long enough or am a "big enough" writer within this community to even be giving advice LMAO but since you asked!!

i usually post on wednesday or friday evenings and i've had good interaction on both of those days, however fridays have been the best and i think i will be sticking to friday evening posts for the most part in the future

i usually post between 7:00 - 10:00 pm eastern time, most often around 9:00 pm - if the time you post doesn't seem to work well, try a different time with the next post

tags tags tags! add the most relevant tags first, and avoid adding tags that are irrelevant. so when i post for bucky i add tags such as the following: bucky barnes x reader, bucky x reader, bucky barnes, bucky barnes x you, bucky barnes smut, etc

write a brief summary for the piece that will draw people in but not give tooooo much away. also always give appropriate warnings

use the "keep reading" feature. to be completely honest, if someone posts something that's 500+ words and they don't use the keep reading feature, i'm instantly going to get annoyed that it's clogging up the feed and scroll past it lol. i personally like to insert the "keep reading" link a couple paragraphs into my fic so that people can read the first tiny bit of it and (hopefully) be interested enough to click the link and keep reading.

don't be afraid to reach out to other writers in your fandom and initiate friendships. i know this can be super intimidating because they usually already have mutuals that they are close with but what's the worst that can happen with trying? most people here love making new friends/mutuals and want to be supportive of new writers, though i know it doesn't always feel like that. not everyone that i've followed/interacted with has followed me back but a lot have!

tease snippets of upcoming fics before posting them (and make sure to add a bunch of tags so more people see) to help people get excited, draw in new followers, etc. pick a few lines of dialogue, or a specific paragraph or whatever, that you're particularly proud of and screenshot/copy & paste it and post it and basically say hey here's a snippet of an upcoming fic! i don't always do this but i like to on occasion

lastly, and this piece of advice won't necessarily help your writing perform well notes wise, but i think it's important to remember: write and post what YOU want to write and post. this is a hobby, this is supposed to be fun, and you are not getting paid for this. if you don't want to write smut, DON'T write it just because it's popular and you feel like you have to. if you don't want to write reader inserts and prefer OCs, then write an OC. if you prefer writing one-shots and drabbles over multi-part series, then write one-shots and drabbles! of course readers are going to have their preferences and that's fine, i have my preferences when it comes to reading fanfiction as well, but it's not your job to appeal to every reader out there. it's your job to enjoy this hobby as much as you can and write things that you're proud of.

[dreamersinthedaylightinspo]

THE DREAMERS IN THE DAYLIGHT: HOPE

Scene: After Feyre's testimony concludes, Tamlin experiences some emotions - both familiar and unfamiliar.

WARNING: This fic is highly Feysand-critical, and contains OCs who do not have their backstories explicitly described in the below scene.

Taglist: @kitkat-writes-stuff

I'm thrilled you all liked the original snippet! TBH I haven't updated my fic in months but I promise I'm still working (hence the snippets) so I'll be glad to share them here while I hammer out the kinks for the next chapters.

It was like he was emerging from the mists. Out of the dark and into the sun.

            He had not felt this much present in his own, male body for years.

            His heart was pounding wildly with an emotion he barely recognized, because the last time he’d felt it, it had blown up spectacularly in his face.

            Hope.  

            There were a lot of things he’d done wrong, and those he would accept, and he’d take the hatred, because he’d never given a single solitary shit what most of these vain lords and preening courtiers thought of him anyway – but this. The villages. All of those children.

            Feyre had done that to him. Feyre.

            She had lied through her teeth. Lied with smiles and sweetness.

            Like Rhys.

            Like her.

            And when he had run ragged, from village to village, half the time on his own, shielding those faeries with his own monstrous body –

            Eunomia of the Day Court was his savior, and Tamlin seriously considered marching himself down onto the floor of this tribunal and kissing her directly on the mouth, and damn how it would look to anyone else if he did.

            For a few minutes after the trial, he didn’t move. Many people, he considered, underestimated his intelligence because he’d openly admitted that he couldn’t manage the flowery pretensions of court etiquette and that he had no patience for diplomacy. But he was observant.

            He saw Feyre rise shakily from the bench, even though she tried valiantly to hide it. She was always good like that – she made reckless decisions like it was her job, and then when she faced consequences, covered it up with a cold bravado. But Eunomia’s questioning had unnerved her. She’d gotten under Feyre’s skin. He felt a vicious gladness so profound that it was almost shocking. Now you understand, he thought. Do you finally understand?

            He used to love that girl.

            Used to.

            He cast his gaze once again to the doors, where one of the guards had poked her head in to chat. Helion had assigned at least one guard to Eunomia, since Tamlin’s own meeting with her. Probably, this was on the off chance that Rhys was in the mood to make trouble, or rather, that it was a day ending in ‘y.’ But clearly, Eunomia didn’t mind; she even smiled faintly at the guard, and accepted a friendly slap on the back as they filed out together. Feyre’s eyes were wide and icy – frozen pools. That was what he’d thought when he’d first looked into her eyes, in the cramped little hovel they'd called a house.

            She had been so small and so brave back then.

            Who was this person that was clinging to Rhys’s arm, curling into his side as if she needed protection, as if she needed comfort?

            Perhaps Feyre really had died Under the Mountain.

            Rhys, of course, was looking as he always did, flanked by his loyal Illyrian brothers, who uniformly despised Tamlin, and the creature Rhys had insanely decided to release from the Prison. He decided to ignore them.

            He also saw Feyre’s sister – the nice one, the one whose name he always forgot. When he placed the glamour over the Archeron family, her mind had been as open as a new bud, and he’d almost felt sorry to have to intrude. She was also looking at Eunomia’s retreating back. But her eyes were noticeably less hostile. She looked curious, almost.

            Her eyes drifted upwards towards where he sat.

            Tamlin slid his eyes away, and pretended that he was not watching. He regarded Helion, who was chatting with Thesan still. It was a neutral conversation. One could even say it was boring, as far as conversations with Helion Spell-cleaver could be called boring.  

            Three of us, he thought dully. Three stupid, arrogant Lords in a room.

            A miracle, really, that they were all still alive.

            Nothing else of interest was happening, as the Courts filed out. After all, Keeper Eunomia had left the room.

            But Tamlin thought he could catch her quickly enough. He breathed deep, and closed his eyes, picking out the different scents of the room – until he found the only one that was fresh and unfamiliar to him.

            Like citrus.

            Tamlin rose from his seat.

            Fiacha jumped up at once. “High Lord!”

            A grimace – he’d forgotten about this stupid child. “You’re dismissed for the day,” he said, waving his hand. “I have some matters to finish on my own.”

            “Do you require me to accompany you?”

            “No.”

            Fiacha was disappointed, but Tamlin couldn’t bring himself to feel entirely bad about it. So far, the child had proved himself moderately useful, but the fact that he stuck to Tamlin’s side like a burr was so deeply, completely annoying that he could’ve wrung out the boy’s neck for the trouble.

            As the thought crossed his mind, so did an image of Lucien’s disappointed face.

            Make an effort, Tam.

            “Oh, fuck it,” he muttered.

            “Sir?” said Fiacha.

            “Nothing,” Tamlin replied. “I’ll meet you back at the embassy.”

            And he went after Eunomia.

            The halls cleared quickly after trial, which he liked, because it made his current work easier. Her scent was not strong, because she had no magic other than the authority of the tribunal, but it was distinctive enough that he had no trouble following it. And he moved quickly – hunting – until at last he came upon a small side room that was stacked with massive pots of sweet coffee and mint tea, little jars of honey and sugar. There were small plates of fruits and even little cakes and flaky pastry, with long cushioned benches for lounging. Despite his focus, he experienced a faint vision of his father, cursing: Lush Day Court bastards.

            Eunomia and her guard were in there, and Tamlin was focused on tracking them that he didn’t hear their conversation entirely, but he did hear how it stopped when he approached, and when he opened the door.

            Too late, it occurred to him that he hadn’t knocked.

            The guard had removed her helmet, revealing bobbed red hair – a more shocking and fiery shade than Lucien’s warm auburn. At once, she stepped ahead of Eunomia – who was seated on one of the benches, with a little round pastry dusted with pistachio in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other – and made to guard her.

            You are a beast.

            Tamlin knew that the guard was merely doing her duty. Of course, she would make to defend her charge against the High Lord who had quite literally chased them out of the courtroom and barged in on their private breakroom without so much as a warning. He looked at Eunomia, who merely stared back. Her eyes were a cloudy gray. A part of him could not help but compare her to Feyre, all angles and sharpness. Eunomia’s face was round, her hair a nest of dark curls that made her appear, slightly, to have a lion’s mane.

            While he stared at her, she merely stared back without saying anything.

            It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, even now.

            “State your business, my lord.”

            The guard’s prompting jolted him suddenly back to the ground. He had to think of something to say, and quickly.

            “The records you showed,” he said.

            His voice was rough. Nomi’s eyes widened slightly.

            “Yes,” she told him. “They’re accurate. I verified each one with the assistance of my peers. I apologize, my lord, if I overstepped. I sent a formal request and someone got back to me. I should not have assumed –”

            Why in the world was she always apologizing to him? He had already told her once that he would support her with his full strength. Did she not believe him? Was she frightened of him?

            “Who?” he asked.

            “Hart is the name that I was given. He did not say his family name, but Hart was the source.”

            Hart. They used to get drunk and he would sing while Tamlin played, always a song about an adventure. He’d thought that Hart had gone back to his father’s estates, or worse, to the Summer Court, in rebellion after what had happened.

            But Hart had given Eunomia the records. And Bronn was testifying on his behalf. Reluctantly, but still.

            “I see,” he said. He fixed his eyes somewhere near his shoes, so that she wouldn’t see that was becoming emotional. I am still High Lord. “Thank you for telling me. And thank you,” he added, “for your work today.”

            “Please, don’t thank me, my lord. I should be the one thanking you. If it were not for your generous support, then this trial would not be possible.”

            She gave all the niceties that she was expected to, and minded her rank – as expected of one of Helion’s scholars – but there was no fear or resentment in her deference at all. Rather, she was completely earnest in her dedication to service. It was – well, it was sweet. At least, her deference to him as a High Lord didn’t make him chafe.

            “I’m hardly generous. I think I stood up just to be petty.”

            Both her and the guardswoman wore matched, muted expressions of surprise. Tamlin realized that he had smiled on accident.

            “Forgive me, my lord,” Nomi replied, with a slight frown. “I do not think that is true. Even though I struggle to understand your – personal connection –” That was a very, very polite way of putting it, Tamlin thought, “– with the High Lady of Night, and your personal feelings towards that matter, I have no doubt in my mind that her actions against you constituted a crime. And I believe, firmly, with all my heart, that the children of the Spring Court deserve to see justice done. Both the living and the dead.”

            They’d run from him in some of the villages, because he had arrived as a beast, choosing to forgo winnowing in favor of power and speed, in case he ran across any threats. Some of those burned towns had been places where he'd had friends, lovers. The Hybernian units had burned out sections of his forests, and snared the faeries who fled from that fire, and threw their bodies into pits dug into the earth, like they were merely the carcasses of animals. He wasn’t even planning to go to that ridiculous war council in Dawn, because he had no Court to bring with him, and because he had spent the last three days beforehand digging graves with his own two hands.

            Even now, the ghost of that particular anger stirred a fire in his chest.

            He trusted her. He was going to marry her.

            But she had come back wrong. She had gone into the dark, and she was never coming out of it.

            And he should have known that. It was the whole reason he’d tried to send her away in the first place. Because once that darkness got into your head, it wasn’t coming out. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it, even if he’d wanted to.

            He had buried his people, and with them, all his hopes.

            “Justice,” he muttered. “When it was my fault anyhow.”

            “As I said, I do not believe that is the case, my lord. I intend to prove it.”

            She was so confident that he almost believed her. In a way, she really was like her brother. She did look remarkably similar to him as well, but there were slight differences in the set of their jaws. And of course, Thales’s eyes had been his most distinctive feature. That beautiful blue did not exist anywhere in Eunomia’s eyes.

            Tamlin, whose brothers had merely seen him as an obstacle or a rival on the best of days, finally understood. This was what it meant to actually have a sibling. Eunomia was the sort of person who could make you feel more at ease with the day-to-day minutia of a chaotic world - a rock, which Thales had clung to with all his might.

            “May I ask you a personal question?”

            “That strongly depends on the nature of the question, my lord.”

            She did not seem like she was joking, which was fine, because he wasn’t either.

            “Would it be alright if I visited your brother’s grave?”

            The guardswoman made an audible sound of surprise – not anger.

            Tamlin explained, “I didn’t know him very well, so I would understand if you refuse. But I think he deserves some credit for today, especially. When we spoke for the last time, before we really understood what we were about to do, I –”

            He happened to look up, and see the expression on Eunomia’s face.

            Of course, he should have known.

            “I apologize, Keeper Eunomia,” he started to say.

            “Did he say anything before?”

            Her voice came out strained, as if she were physically holding it back somehow.

            Tamlin closed his eyes. Amarantha had suddenly had him moved to a small, stale room, and for a few minutes, he wondered if he was being imprisoned as a precaution, because if Feyre won her final trial, they would be freed, and his powers would return in full, and he had spent fifty years imagining how he would kill Amarantha for poisoning this world, for treating them like toys, for hurting Lucien, and now for hurting Feyre.

            That, or Feyre would be killed, and they would be doomed.

            But then the other two were brought in. The woman was called Sacha, and she was of Dawn. Tamlin learned that Sacha was training to be a priestess before she had been imprisoned. In retrospect, she had more awareness of what was about to happen than either of her companions. She had a distant look in her eyes, and kept thumbing a ring against her finger, which may have been a token from someone she once cared about.

            Thales, even then, was talking as if this was just a temporary thing.

            “You seem confident,” Sacha had said, softly. “You really think we’ll be freed?”

            “Of course, we will!” And he’d actually patted Tamlin heartily on the shoulder as he said this. “I’ve got it all the things I want to do planned out – the only trouble is putting them in order. Obviously, the first thing to do is to introduce Nomi and Daphne.”

            Tamlin said, “You think that will go well?”

            “Oh, absolutely,” he replied, with supreme confidence. “I mean, they’ll be nervous around each other, and it’ll be awkward at first – Nomi doesn’t always like meeting new people but she’ll love Daphne once she gets to know her. And after that...”

            He’d had so many dreams. That was how he’d survived Under the Mountain for so many decades. Tamlin listened to him beg for mercy, and known that he would get none from Feyre. She had murdered Andras with hate in her heart, and she would kill Thales out of love for Tamlin.

            Ruthless. That was her nature. As cold and bitter as an empty night sky.

            And that was the worst of it all.

            To Eunomia, he said, “He never lost hope. He was sure that the curse would be broken and we’d all be freed. And he also… He said that the first thing he’d do when he returned to Rhodes was to tell you he was sorry for keeping you up all night with that horn before your aptitude test, and for the time he switched out your lotion for itching cream, and that he’d tell you that he was proud of you.”

            It felt ridiculous repeating those things, told to him in confidence by Thales, who had befriended him without reasoning that Tamlin was going to be the cause of his death. Eunomia was far cleverer than any of them, so she probably understood that fact already. The curse, and the war that followed, was his fault, after all. Because he had run out his time. He had not been strong enough.

            He straightened his back, and lifted his chin. Get on with it, then.

            At least, if she cut him down with a curse or even if she got right up and slapped him, he would deserve the blow. He would take it.

            A faint sniff broke his train of thought – and Tamlin noticed for the first time that the guardswoman’s eyes were full of tears.

            Eunomia, too, was looking emotional. Her gaze seemed far away, and her smile faint. But there was a light in her expression now that hadn’t been there before. She seemed almost lost in a memory – a happy memory, though. Some pain had gone from her when he spoke.

            “That is the exact kind of stupid thing he’d say,” said Eunomia. “Thank you for telling me that, my lord. Of course, you can visit his grave anytime. I don’t think anyone would question it, but if anyone does, just tell the undertakers that I gave permission.”

            Somehow, he had made her happy.

            Words failed him. He felt suddenly exhausted, and just left without saying anything else. He didn’t know if he could bear looking in her eyes anymore.

            When he returned to the main foyer, Fiacha was there, looking like an absolute nervous wreck as he paced back and forth between the pillars, weaving a strange circular pattern with his steps.

            “My lord!” he gasped out, straightening at attention only when Tamlin deliberately approached him and stepped into his path. “You went off so suddenly – I waited!”

            For a few surprisingly pleasant minutes, Tamlin had forgotten all about him. But he couldn’t really muster up any harsher emotions than the vague annoyance of an older male naturally felt towards a persistent, upbeat younger one.

            “I know. We’re finished. Let’s go.”

            “Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

            But he did feel better, he realized, stepping out of the hall and into the still burning afternoon sun. He blinked a few times to have his eyes adjust. The light had always invigorated him, but the Day Court’s fierce summers were known to cause veritable heatstroke, and honestly, it was all a bit overwhelming. The myriad of scents – perfumes and spices and cooked food and so many individual bodies all moving around, and stray cats, and gardens, and fountains, and traders on horseback, and fruit trees etc., etc., etc. – tended to give him a migraine if he focused on it.

            Today, there was none of that. His heart beat calmly. There were a few hours of light left in their day, yet, and he felt no need to hole himself up in his room.

            “Fiacha.”

            The boy straightened. “Yes, lord?”

            “Is there something you want to eat?”

            “Me?” came the baffled, almost-whispered, and entirely pedestrian shock. “Really?”

            Tamlin rolled his eyes. “That’s why I asked.”

            “I…”

            For a minute or two, Tamlin thought he wasn’t even going to answer and started to lose patience.

            “There was a place that we passed on our way here this morning,” said Fiacha timidly, “that had a smell coming from the kitchen. I don’t know exactly what it was but I remember the spot.”

            Seemed that the Mother had at last seen fit to bless Her child with a lick of sense.

            Tamlin said, “Great. We’ll eat there. Lead the way.”

            The boy paused for a minute, staring at him in utter confusion – before an enormous smile spread across his face.

            “Of course, my lord! Follow me!”

[rinwellisathing]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @picathartidae

So um...I've been all over the place with my writing lately because I wrote myself into a corner on Paint The Lines Cut The Flesh and I'm not quite ready to prepare my horror AUs for release yet, but uh...enjoy some snippets, I suppose? A potential Sentry villain monologue:

“So, you finally decided to show up. Those Netherstones would have probably been much more helpful a little while ago...but I guess you had other things to do...more important things.” Sentry shrugged, slowly turning to face his former companions. “Now, see, I understand that those things might have been more important to you than me...I understand now, better than I ever have...Enver has always been the only one who really cares for me, really understands me...You can all pretend, but at the end of the day, you prove that point more than you know.” He sighed and shook his head, managing a small, pained smirk. “But you always fancied yourselves these big damned heroes and yet you let the city tremble while you fumbled around after someone who, by the way, clearly never gave a shit about you, Wyll....And Jaina and Karlach both know that. Hells, they didn't even WANT to rescue your father. He wasn't worth rescuing...And still you did it, you did it and you destroyed my gift to Enver, our special place together....And now his Steel Watch is in shambles too...bet you had something to do with that...” He drew his halberd. “Well, I won't let you destroy him too. If you want to get to him, you'll have to kill me to do it...and as you've seen, I don't die easily...” He chuckled hollowly. “I'm like the vermin you so clearly would see me as if I dared to slip up in that way.” “Sentry...” Jaina bit her lip. “Please...we don't see you that way, we care about you!” She took a step towards him, stopping abruptly and staggering a few paces back as a swing of the halberd just barely missed her throat. “Save your breath, any one could be your last.” The paladin responded. He tilted his head, eyes slowly moving to glance at Halsin and Astarion with a look of hurt and betrayal. “Because I did love you...both of you...I'll give you this one chance to hand over the netherstones and run.”

Enver Gortash explores a haunted ruin in the style of so many J-horror game girlies before him, sorry, no cunty little outfit description yet because Fatal Frame outfits are on another level and require thought:

Mere hours later, he found himself standing in the ruins of an eerie little town beneath the city, his eyes falling upon a burned out hovel just beyond the gate. Well, in for a copper, in for a gold piece. He crossed the street and stepped over the threshold of the old home. The remnants of a life were still set out, albeit scorched or broken for the most part. Dishes and utensils lay forgotten on the table, ruined paintings in blackened frames stared down at him from the walls. One thing caught his eyes, unburned and set upon the charred counter. A piece of parchment, which he picked up to read. “I admit that I am worried about what will happen tomorrow. But I also know that I have to be brave for my sister Orin. I teach her that it is necessary, and that if death allows her to live longer and perhaps free herself from her father and his oppressive rule, I have a duty to her. It is my blood that dyes the ground of the arena and feeds the runes that run to the realm of the Father of Gehenna. Tomorrow, I will die so that my sister can live. I face my death without fear and know that this is the right thing to do. I regret that I never got to experience love or true friendship after sneaking out of the temple and learning about the outside world, but... a real sacrifice if I don't die with a little bit of regret. Will it be? Orin, if you read this, please run away if you are chosen. Leave this place and find a place where you can be happy. He doesn't care about you or your interests. Be free and live your life. Love, your big brother, Sentry.” Frowning, Enver looked up from the letter, lowering the goggles he'd spent so long tinkering with back home, flicking down two sets of rune etched lenses and peering slowly and carefully around the room. A tall, slim figure sat at the table, seemingly writing quickly. He was a pale tiefling with dark, jagged tattoos marking his face. His horns curved upward and he had bright eyes. He was dressed in simple black linen clothing in contrast with his pale silvery white hair. The tiefling looked up and Enver noticed he was beautiful, eerily so. He regarded Enver with a gentle curiosity and then simply walked past him.

Sentry and Orin get a little House of 1,000 Corpses in Papa Bhaal's House of Horror, my 70's/80's horror AU:

“Move it a little to the left, Orin.” Sentry frowned, making a frame with his hands and scanning the hanging corpse dangling from a meat hook in the shed. His little sister repositioned the head just a little closer to the shoulder, slightly off from where it would naturally have been, and looked quizzically at her brother. “Yeah! Perfect! Just like that!” He reached into the pocket of his denim cut offs and produced a heavy needle and some waxed thread. “Now just hold it steady.” “There's room for a second head at this angle, slaughter-kin.” Orin pointed out with a grin as blood dripped down the front of her hand sewn red dress. “Shit, you're right. What are we thinkin', pig? Sheep?” Sentry pondered as he moved the needle expertly through the skin, sewing the head into place. Orin pranced over to a cold chest in the corner of the shed and lifted the lid with a pale, thin arm, one long braid swinging over her shoulder as she peered inside and began to poke around. She ran her hands over the various heads the freezer contained, finally gripping a pair of horns and lifting it with a grin. “Mmm...This one!” She smirked, holding up the head of a dark grey goat, its strange yellow eyes gazing sightlessly forward. “Great choice, little sister.” Sentry grinned, beckoning her back over as he finished his final stitch. “Now, just place it in position, and....” He paused a moment, ears pricking up at the sound of a car horn outside.

Hope you enjoyed these WIPS, I'll forego tagging proper since I took a while to actually post this up and don't know who's been tagged already, so anyone who wants to can do this.

[bjarkanart]

Heya! Since I haven't been able to draw much in the last couple of weeks, I took some time to write a bit and finally decided to go for multiple chapters cause I'm a really slow writer so I posted the first chapter of my Death Stranding AU Imodna fic, I hope it's at least decent...

Here's a little snippet. The rest is up on Ao3, let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 🙏

Most people who knew her in Gelvaan would say that Imogen Temult was strange. With her purple hair and lightning scars, the fact that she could hear their thoughts and talk in their heads if she so chose, and sometimes hearing her screaming in the middle of the night if they passed her room, it only made sense for them to be wary of her and try not to get close.

Imogen knew what people said and thought about her, so she tried to avoid them as much as they tried to avoid her, which was hard to do when everyone lived piled up underground like a colony of ants.

 

When she was a kid, Imogen would always try to help someone out, always curious, always with a smile on her face. And people didn't treat her differently from the other kids at the time.

Then, something shifted.

Her father grew distant the more she grew up and Imogen had no idea why. She had tried to ask him. Tried to understand. But her countless attempts at trying to get an explanation from him only ever ended in disappointment and hurt the more she pushed the matter. 

She stopped trying to get answers from him when the word "daddy" started leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The once soothing term of endearment sounded like an anomaly or a foreign language even to her, as every time she spoke the word out loud, it was met with silence. Imogen had grown tired of running after a man who felt more and more like a stranger she just happened to be sharing an apartment with.

Imogen was fifteen she was diagnosed with DOOMS and when the nightmares started.

Dreams of a red storm engulfing a town in the distance she had never seen before. Destroying everything in its wake as red lightning struck trees, splitting them in half. A tornado snatching houses from the ground and hauling them in the air to be blown away and far beyond the horizon. The wind was blasting all around her, deafening, overwhelming, spraying dust over her face and forcing her to squint with no clue on where she was supposed to go. She just knew she had to get away from the storm. Then a woman's voice would echo in her mind, telling her to run, repeatedly, every time she had that dream.

Imogen didn’t know that voice. But somehow, something in her gut told her it was her mother's, it had to be. But why was she so certain of it? She didn't know. She couldn't remember her mother. But still, she would always instinctively listen to her and run, run as far as her feet would carry her, as far from the storm as possible.

And Imogen would wake up panting or screaming and in a cold sweat. Chills running down her spine as she tried to comprehend why she kept having those strange dreams and what they meant. If they even had a meaning to begin with. Were they connected to her powers or did they have anything to do with her DOOMS since the condition made her more connected to the other side? She had dreamed of a few people she knew walking into the storm, to then learn of their passing the next day but had chosen to never share this information. People were cautious enough around her; she didn't need them to know she could tell when someone was going to die.

She also wondered if the place she saw in her dreams was maybe a memory of what Gelvaan used to be. But it didn’t make sense to her. She had never known a life before all this. 

Before the explosions. 

Before the craters. 

Before the Death Stranding.

***

There you go!

[danpuff-ao3]

Aaah, I'd meant to send you birthday wishes from work but that obviously failed, so here's a late-evening pop of the champagne cork for you, Danni my dear! I hope you've had the happiest of birthdays, and that you're feeling relaxed and cherished and totally indulged. And I hope you know you're cherished here as well; that you're a gift unto yourself and a delight to know! Also a brilliant author with a narrative voice that hurts the gut and breaks and illuminates the heart, while salvaging splendor from the materials of loss and ugliness. May this year bring you happiness upon happiness and much joy in your own creativity and sense of self!

I wanted to write you a Snarry snippet, but I'm pants at dashing things off in the moment, so it doesn't quite come off to my satisfaction. It doesn't really end; it's just there. But I'm dropping it here anyway because I don't have any other gifts to give you (and I'm still reeling from your latest tour de force).

Have a marvelous vacation! 🍾🎂💝😘💖

"I don't get it," Ron said. "I don't get how you can go from my sister to that awful, ugly git."

"An ugly git with a fanciable arse," Harry joked, fending off irritation at the fact that even his oldest friend refused to understand.

Ron had outgrown the juvenile impulse to mime sticking his finger down his throat, but he still grimaced in disgust as he said, "You're barking. Let's be honest, you of all people could have anyone you – "

Harry cut him off with a glare, and Ron caught himself before straying too far into rubbishy Boy Who Lived territory.

A few seats over, Charlie slanted Harry a speculative glance, as if intrigued by the topic of Snape's arse. Harry hid a smile but was canny enough not to oblige him.

He wanted to tell them You haven't a clue. Because it wasn't only about a nice arse. Severus did have his moments of beauty. Severus had his moments of belonging so completely to Harry that it blotted out everything else.

But those moments weren't meant for just anyone. They weren't meant for Ron or Charlie Weasley, for Hermione or Luna or Ginny. For all that Severus liked to insinuate their sexual compatibility into public places, there was a privacy to having a relationship with him, a sacrosanct quality that made everything five times more intense than Harry was used to.

Yes, Harry had been profoundly disturbed at first to discover it was Severus Snape's hard-faced respect, Snape's coal-black pessimism and tendency to bristle and stand his ground – even when his ground was patently wrong – that sent his cock and his temper soaring.

And Severus, after his initial recoil and ice-cold certainty that he was being pranked, had exploited that knowledge to the hilt.

Unfortunately, Ron couldn't just leave it. "It's not so much that it's a bloke, Harry. But why limit your, erm – " His discomfort smeared the words together into a smirk-worthy yerm, and the rest of the sentence proved what Harry had suspected, that he and Hermione were discussing Harry's love life behind his back. " – your erotic possibilities? No one in their right mind would call Snape sexy."

Exasperated, Harry almost shot back that no one had ever been concerned about how he was limiting himself when he was fucking a girl. But since that girl had been Ginny, it would be beastly to talk about her like that.

Then he considered mentioning the fact that, far from feeling limited, he didn't think he could take much more possibility in his sex life, as Severus would do anything he wanted.

It was true. Having bluffed his way through his own insecurity, braced every bloody time for Harry to mock him – because Severus hadn't yet got beyond his conviction that Harry was immensely more experienced than he, and that his own deprivation in this area made him, as a forty-something man, ridiculous – Severus would submerge completely in the 'erotic possibility' and take Harry with him.

PI!!!! My dear sweet friend. I am lost for words. 🥹 You are much too kind to me (which I fully appreciate.) I had the most lovely of birthdays, with much joy and indulgence! Sunny days, magical sights, and heaps of delicious food! But best of all was all the love sent my way. I am truly blessed to have so many generous, darling people in my life. 🥰

Now...ahem. [TW: fangirl shrieking ahead]

Truly, the Universe has smiled on me for my birthday! After all, imagine had this little snippet not existed???? When it's so very much everything I want and need from Snarry!!!!

Things I love:

Ron (and co.) not really "getting" Snarry? Biggest checkmark. Not enough of that out there!

Outright accusations of "ugly" [insert dreamy sigh here]

Snape's fanciable arse??? I know you've written that before and truly if any bit of Snape has to be stunning, if not his cock, then his arse will do! (But truly, both would be just fine by me!)

Severus did have his moments of beauty. Severus had his moments of belonging so completely to Harry that it blotted out everything else. -- I'm not sobbing, you're sobbing. But really, it's moments like these that make me LOVE the "ugly" word. It's why I LOVE honing in on other people's opinions and issues, and beauty standards, it's kicking them square in the balls! Yes, he's ugly in a sense. But that doesn't mean he's not beautiful. And really, isn't that the most perfect example of beauty? When it's everything within shining without? (Okay let me tuck my feelings back in there, sorry about that.)

More of Severus using personal details as weapons, as in: their sexual compatibility. To shock and horrify those around them. It feels quite petty on the surface, but also an almost defense mechanism deep down (even if he doesn't quite see it.) The whole "If I say it first, it won't hurt me if you say it" idea. Because if he's using it to shock/horrify people, then it won't matter when they're shocked/horrified. Or, even as punishment for being shocked/horrified. Truly, I'm obsessed. What a perfect bastard he is. (With quite the fanciable arse, I've heard.)

and stand his ground – even when his ground was patently wrong – hi yes it's me I'm in love.

Also Severus initially thinking the whole thing is a prank???? YES YES EXACTLY.

no one had ever been concerned about how he was limiting himself when he was fucking a girl. - and Harry too gentlemanly to speak of her like that, haha! Though in fairness, the dude he's fucking is SEVERUS FLIPPIN' SNAPE.

Severus would submerge completely in the 'erotic possibility' and take Harry with him. -- all the possibilities with these 2? 100% my favorite part. All of the passion and obsession and how I'm pretty sure they'll never get enough of each other. And not even just the erotic possibility, mind you, but....well, that erotic possibility sure is something!

Anyway um this was perfect and everything I could have ever wanted and I'm obsessed with it and if you wanted to put it on AO3 I would be in full support of that 👀 But as is I am forever grateful and like sobbing. Because these are my BOYS. 😭 And you do them such justice. You always remind me of why I fell in love with them (on the off chance I'd ever forget haha!)

[dem0nguy]

The council (me, myself, and I) have decided, I shall post about my way-too-elaborate OC lore!

I’ll likely share this through story snippets, spurts of lore, art, or whatever else comes to me. Regardless, I hope you enjoy something I’ve been crafting for many years in the back of my mind.

Now let me introduce you to a story called:

A Good Demon

Listen, part of me still doesn’t understand everything that’s happened to me over the past couple years. But these journal entries, those that I wrote while it was happening. May be the only accurate recount I can give you.

So much has changed over the years, I’ve lost and gained. I’ve gone from a naïve little boy to a kid who knows too much for his age.

So let my younger self tell you our story:

9/22/19

It’s My Birthday! Wahooo!!!!

Man I’ve been psyched for weeks! I’m turning twelve, and tomorrow I start 6th grade! It’s kinda crazy honestly. I’m not sure if I should be excited, or terrified.

But well, that’s what this journal is for. Writing down my thoughts and worries. As much as I will use it for that, I also wanna be able to look back when I’m older! It’ll be cool to see what future me thinks of present me (I hope future me is doing well!) He’s not, but the notion is nice.

I got a whole bunch of presents today! First off, I got this journal. Which seemed like a lame present at first (especially in comparison to my twin brother’s remote controlled car) but I’m learning to like it. I think… The journal is a marble red-black pattern, with a gold engraving on the front of my name “Adam”.

I also got a bunch of chocolate (my favorite candy!), as well as action figures from my favorite TV show, a few new books, a couple letters with money, and an odd red and blue crystal necklace. Irrelevant as it may be, chocolate is still my favorite candy.

The necklace was a gift from my Uncle Sam. He’s a very, err, interesting guy? I don’t know, he’s very closed off, and doesn’t seem very fond of anything really. But my dad (his twin brother. Isn’t it crazy there are two pairs of twins in this family??) Likes having him around.

My twin, Conner, got a similar necklace. Though it was a little more blue than red. Uncle Sam was very hesitant when giving them to us, almost as though he didn’t want to. It made me wonder if my dad had made him buy these for us.

I’m not ungrateful for his gift. Just, skeptical. He told us to keep the necklaces close by all day and night, that they’re a sign of good luck. Should’ve been more skeptical…

I’m not exactly gonna give up potential good luck. I’ll definitely need it for tomorrow. I’m absolutely terrified that I’m gonna get lost in the big concrete building that is “middle school.” I’ll have more than one teacher a year now, how will I remember them all?? What if I forget and walk into the wrong classroom? God that would be so embarrassing. All the looks from the other students trained on me, I can almost hear their snickering and laughing in my ears!

Even worse, what if I’m stuck in a class with no one I know? What if all my friends and my brother are on completely different sides of the building? What if there’s an emergency?? What would I do? Funny how this was my greatest fear when I was twelve.

I don’t think I can answer any of those questions, just thinking about them shakes me to the core. But, it is nice to write down on paper. Somehow the words are less scary when you can see them.

Hey, maybe this good luck charm will help me after all.

Little did I know it would make my life living hell.

(Part twoooooo :D)

[writernopal]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Tagged by the lovely @mariahwritesstuff for this tag she created, see her post here!

Tagging (gently): @kanobarlowe @lexiklecksi @captain-kraken @dragonedged-if @lynnedwardswrites and @autumnalwalker

Blank list of questions below the cut!

1. What motivates you to write?

The fun of it! Writing is like play to me and one of the few ways I can be creative. It also lets me explore all sorts of aspects of the human experience in a unique way. I have an obsession with stepping into the shoes of others, to understand them and also myself, and a penchant for asking questions, as anyone in the writing discord I'm a part of can attest to 😅. I've found writing is the perfect way to play with those things in a way that feels safe and fulfilling.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

From AASOAF 2, Axtapor's POV

My grandmother came to me first: going into town with her as a boy, taking tea with her in the gardens on her estate, and visiting her on my ageday just so I could hear her stories of the world. Then came her warmth, her sincerity, and her love. The way she smiled whenever I visited her and how the slant of her writing betrayed her eagerness to respond to my many letters. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as a wave of nostalgia and melancholy passed over me. I missed her so much. What I wouldn’t give for her loving embrace and to hear her call me ‘hatchling’ the way she always did. Perhaps when all of this was done, I would go see her. Then, as the warm sunshine of spring came Mariel. Her smile, her laugh, the gentleness of her voice, and the many moments we shared in The Deadlands. The way we spent the evenings playing Twenty-One while we told one another about our families and where we came from. The quietness of midday, where she would busy herself with mending or some other still activity while I polished my weapons or smoked, neither of us feeling the need to break the silence that formed, akin to a call for prayer. And the mornings, where she and I breakfasted each day without fail, dreams from the night before still clinging to her eyelashes amongst the bleary-eyed look I’d come to adore. Every kiss we shared, every embrace we locked one another in, and every moment she made my heart race with those eyes colored of autumn. I remembered it all.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Oh this question is so hard haha because I love all of my OCs! But if I had to choose one, it has to go to my boy Axtapor. A close second is Mariel but Axtapor wins because he is just so chaotic and annoying and so easy to dunk on that it's hard not to love him! I think I have a soft spot for him too because the character he was originally conceptualized as was rather brooding and hardly spoke, so of all of my characters, he's seen the biggest transformation and its been such a treat to see him develop into who he's become today!

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

When you tie all of the lore pieces together and it just makes sense! It's like when you take a new route home and everything is unfamiliar until you turn onto your street and the map completes in your brain. I LIVE for that!

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Expressing feelings/emotions in a vivid/visceral way. I've been told by many people that this is my strong suit and I will 100% own that. My style is rather flowery (as the answer to no. 3 probably demonstrates) and stems from a frustration of not being adequately 'seen' in the past, so when I want you to feel something, I want you to FEEL it, and I will pull out ALL the stops to make sure that happens.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Ask games! I love being asked questions about stuff I write!

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Google Docs. It's simple, easy to use, not bogged down with tons of features which I prefer because when I'm presented with too many options I get overwhelmed. Also, it lets me write on my phone if I'm out and about and get hit with an idea. It also makes it easy to revise later on my laptop/PC without having to move things around.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

The Realm of Dreams and I can say NOTHING about it because it's all spoilers.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Be curious! Ask yourself questions, talk yourself through your plot/characters/etc out loud, look at things from another perspective, and nine times out of ten, you will find that the solution/answer you're looking for, has been staring you in the face all along.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@captain-kraken @kanobarlowe @elshells @sam-glade

You four have shown my characters and story so much love and are so talented! I feel so lucky to call you my peers! And Kano especially, for letting me troll around his Discord server and for giving me the chance to meet other cool writer friends!

And not a writeblr but I couldn't leave @illjustpretend off this list. She's my biggest cheerleader and I would never have worked up the courage to share my work online, let alone have joined this amazing community without her. Seriously this blog would not exist if she hadn't talked me into it. I love you my sister!💙

1. What motivates you to write?

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

[ladytanithia]

Snippet Someday

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer - thanks for the tag! I tag @sunny-d-anomaly, @skyrim-forever (not sure if you've already been tagged by someone else), and @gwilin-stay-winnin. Of course, you are under no obligation to participate, but I hope you do!

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter Your favorite chapter Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Mine are from my longest story to date, which has become a series. It started out with Dalliances with Dunmer, and it is kind of an old fic in a sense, and also still a WIP. (My written soap opera, haha.)

From Dalliances with Dunmer:

First Chapter: Planting the Seed

When I started this story, I didn't have any real plan for it. I just had this idea that my "slutty" LDB had gone from disliking Neloth to realizing how intelligent he was and that his self-important bluster was a facade. She got Talvas (already her FWB) to conspire with her to seduce him.

"Master Neloth, are you not the least bit attracted to me?" She moved so that her barely covered breasts were in his line of sight, watching his face as she did so. She knew he could smell the essential oil she had daubed on her pulse points and between her breasts – a subtle mix of flowers and spice. Yes, there it was: a brief flicker in his ruby eyes as they skated quickly over her chest and quickly refocused on his notebook, a brief flaring of his nostrils as he inhaled her scent.

Acting purely on impulse, she reached out and placed her palm on his far cheek, gently but firmly turning his face toward her. He still refused to meet her eyes, but amazingly, he didn't protest her touching him.

"Listen, Neloth," she said gently. "I don't know how women treated you in the past, but I assure you, I don't play games. This is not a prank, and I am not messing with your head. I do find you to be handsome as well as intelligent, and I sincerely do want to take you to bed. I'm sure you think that love and sex are unnecessary and for the weak, but I believe you really need to get in touch with that poor, repressed sexual side you keep so tightly under wraps. I would love to assist you in researching THAT." She winked at him with a kind, understanding smile, knowing that he saw her even though he wasn’t looking directly at her.

Neloth covered his bewilderment admirably. "If you are quite done, Miss Miranja, I have pressing matters I must attend to. I will let you know the next time I have need for an assistant… or a test subject."

"As you wish, Master Neloth," Miranja said, releasing his face and stepping away. She smiled inwardly at his first use of her actual name. "Please think about what I've proposed, and don't keep me waiting too long. I want you so much it physically hurts." She darted in quickly and planted a moist kiss on his soft gray cheek. He made a small choking sound but otherwise remained impassive.

Outside the front door, she lounged against the wall and waited. After a few discreet moments, Talvas came out, smiling.

"He's muttering to himself," Talvas reported. "More than usual, that is. He’s obviously agitated."

Miranja smiled back impishly. "I hope, for all your sakes – you, Drovas, Ulves, and Elynea – that I can break him down and relieve his, um, frustration. I have a feeling he might be in a better mood once that's taken care of. Thank you for your… assistance."

Talvas gave a showy bow. "You are most welcome, my Lady Dragonborn. It is a pleasure to assist you. Saving Tamriel from dragons and sexual frustration, one dragon and one man at a time. I’m happy to be one of those men."

Favorite chapter: Dreaming of Revyn

This was a flashback where Miranja was remembering her first time with Revyn, who has become one of her dearest friends and favorite lovers, in spite of his jealousy.

He released her hand and began buttering some bread for them both. She tasted her stew, and suddenly realized how very hungry she’d been. The stew was amazing, and the buttered bread made it even better. She told him the story about Odahviing, Skuldafn, Sovngarde, Alduin, and the Tongues as they ate. Ambarys listened in when he was between serving drinks and food. They praised Malthyr for his culinary skills, and Revyn tipped Ambarys well when they were finished. Miranja slipped a couple more septims into the pile by pretending to bump the coins when she reached for her cup of flin.

“Walk with me back to the shop?” Revyn asked, offering his elbow once again.

Miranja gave him a doting smile. “Of course, sweetheart.”

As they walked, Revyn placed his free hand over Miranja’s and leaned his head in toward hers.

“This has been the most pleasant evening I’ve had in probably years,” he told her. “I can’t remember the last time I had a lady accompany me to the New Gnisis. Did you feel all the eyes upon us?”

“I did,” Miranja smiled. “It was indeed very enjoyable.”

It was a short walk, and they had arrived at Revyn’s door. He suddenly seemed nervous.

“Miss Miranja, would you… want to come back into the shop with me?”

Miranja smiled coyly at him. “For another drink? More conversation?” Her smile grew wider as Revyn’s skin grew darker. “To make love, perhaps?”

Revyn looked so embarrassed she thought the ground might swallow him up.

To ease his discomfort, she offered: “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve dreamed of you asking me this?”

His expression changed to stunned yet pleasant surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, silly!” she teased gently. “I couldn’t help but notice from the beginning what a kind, intelligent, and upstanding man you are. I love those qualities in a person. And your skill in speechcraft is very attractive, too. I’ve had a crush on you for a while now.”

Revyn fumbled with the lock on the door and finally got it open, ushering her in ahead of him before locking the door again from the inside. He stood awkwardly facing her, actually trembling slightly. Miranja saw this and realized that she was strangely nervous, too. This wasn’t her usual reaction to mutual attraction, but it was pleasant in a novel sort of way.

“May I kiss you, Revyn?”

“Of course,” he breathed, glad to let her make the first move.

Most challenging chapter: Mystery solved

This one was challenging because … emotional reasons. More than this snippet would be a spoiler. Context: Miranja has been kidnapped by the Morag Tong and taken to Highpoint Tower, where she is bound naked to a rack and gagged.

Now Miranja understood why Neloth had worked so diligently to repress his emotions, isolate himself, and not form attachments. She understood why he had tried to cut her off. But it had been too late for that. His own worst enemy had been right under his roof, seeing and knowing everything. Talvas may be an apprentice, but he had already outdone his master in the art of deception. She could see through Neloth, but Talvas – Talvas! – had utterly blindsided her. She refocused her attention on what Talvas was saying now.

"I was thinking perhaps once I replace Neloth, you might want to be my wife. Think you'd like being the wife of a powerful mage-lord? Maybe you could even help me bring him down by using those considerable charms of yours to get close and either convince him or kill him for me."

Miranja's heart was utterly broken that Talvas could betray both her and Neloth this way, especially her! After how good she'd been to him, and all they'd been through together. Betraying Neloth she could understand, since he'd been pretty harsh on Talvas, and Telvanni wizards – as Talvas aspired to be – were notoriously ambitious. But how could he do this to her?

Now that she thought about it, she did remember him occasionally mumbling to himself that one day Neloth's power would all be his. But she'd never thought he could actually be this conniving. She was nearly choking on both the gag and her own anguish.

"What's wrong, Miranja? You love me, too, don't you? You said you wanted to see me succeed." He couldn't stand her not being able to verbally respond, so he took the risk of her shouting and removed the gag.

"I can't go along with this, Talvas. Have you lost your mind? Why are you in such a hurry? Master Neloth is already old; can't you just wait for him to die a natural death?"

"I didn't want him dead, originally, but when the Sarothril family responded to my message and offered me a bounty I couldn't refuse, I figured what the hell. The sooner Master Neloth is dead, the sooner I can take his place, AND I get rich in the process."

"This is not the Talvas I know," Miranja lamented.

"I'm sorry, Miranja, but you're right - Master Neloth IS old. What's a few decades sooner? Even a century? His days of abusing and experimenting on apprentices are over. And if this isn't the Talvas you know, then maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought you did. In fact, you helped me make my decision."

"How?"

"Our trip to Skyrim showed me that I'm more powerful than Master Neloth wants to admit. And of course, all the gold we split from our bandit raids and such helped me pay the Morag Tong. Neloth's been purposely holding me back and putting me down because he doesn't want me to overtake him. But I'm onto him now. And I've had enough. It's my turn."

[justasimplesinner]

Trigger Warning Self Harm

Could I get a snippet of The Big Bois and Venom reaction to the following? After a lovely date, whatever that would entail for the character, their S/O begins to cry. The guys, heavily concerned, ask about it. The S/O grins sheepishly and says slowly, " You know that scar ( or those scars) I have ( a body part). Well it's been a year, a year. Since I've last done something to hurt myself like that Due largely to you just, being supportive."

I understand if this is too dark, if so I completely understand not writing this, I'm just asking this bc I have a few scars from my own relapses n I like to think about some big strong dude loving me regardless them n helping me love myself. Sry this is super self indulgent and embarrassed which is why I'm on anon okay bye thank you so much

ok hun i know im fucking late to the party, and personally i do not have such experiences as you did (im sorry you had to go through shit like this) so this might really not be what you wanted, but if i can in any way make you feel better with my horrendous writing, i will also, im fucking sorry, but imma go with just bane k? im trying to get back to writing and shit aint easy, so im hoping to take it one step at a time TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF SCARS AND SELF-HARM

Bane with a s/o that used to self-harm:

you two didn't go on dates that often. i mean yeah, he did spoil you, that he did, but he's more the type to do little things for you instead of taking you out on fancy dinners. what i mean is carrying you to bed and covering you with a blanket whenever you fall asleep in a place you definitely shouldn't sleep in, leaving your favourite snacks in places where you'll easily find them etc. however, whatever his darling wants, his darling gets, and if that's a dinner date at a nice restaurant, then so be it

it was also a nice way to celebrate your first anniversary, so he really had no way to refuse

he may not have taken you to the fanciest place out there, and yet you felt like royalty. it was a nice corner mexican joint, he knew the owners and they were one of the only people that served him without question, and he always offered them his protection. they set your table nicely, even pulled out fancy champagne flutes (yeah, there were plastic, but so what), put decorations on your table - to put it shortly, they did their best and also made the place feel very homey and comfortable

the evening was great. nice food, cheap but good alcohol, cozy atmosphere, conversations that stretched on for hours filled with laughter. that was exactly why you loved him. for his respect for you, for his care, for his protectiveness, for his dad-jokes and stupid, booming laugh that you swore made the walls tremble. he was the one, you knew it. you've never had someone you felt this comfy with, who made you feel so safe and loved, who never treated you like you were worth nothing, like you didn't deserve anything coming your way. but most importantly, you've never had someone that made you believe in your own strength and worth, that made you believe you deserved to be loved

you really didn't want to break down in front of him. things were going so well, you were trying to be strong - and he was really helping with that - but… it all came crashing down really. and it was a big, confusing mix of everything - of guilt, of shame, of pride, of happines, of love. you couldn't handle that

Bane got a little scared there ngl. i mean, you looked so happy, and then suddenly, you come home with him and start bawling your eyes out. he was a little confused, to say the least

and that's when the dam finally broke. you've never told anyone about this, about your own suffering, but he made you feel so safe and you wanted him to know. you wanted him to feel how grateful you were and only hoped that he wouldn't turn away from you after this

it took a lot of courage from you, he could feel it. you were practically trembling, your voice breaking as you clutched at his arm when you told him everything. about where those scars actually came from and how he helped you with that without even knowing, how there weren't any new ones since you two started your relationship

he's quiet most of the time, just holding you close, but he knows he has to say something less you'd think he hated you. that much he already learned, about the validation you needed from him. he doesn't throw any accusations at you, like how you could've told him sooner or if you were scared of telling him. i mean, of course you were fucking scared of saying that and that's what made him feel so special that you finally did

he will whisper simple, loving words of encouragement while he lightly rocks you both in a slow rythm. he will tell you how grateful he is that you've told him this, how proud he is of your progress, how happy he feels to be the one to help you through this. he wants you to know that your words mean a lot to him, that you mean a lot to him and he's going to love you no matter what

[subskz]

NOW. LEE FUCKING MINHO….WHEN I GET YR FUCKEN ASS

ohhhhh this mf had me FUMING HSJSNS had 2 take several breaks before i punched a hole thru my monitor,,, when he made the “joke” about asking for forgiveness on yr knees i was ready to pummel him in his beautiful fucking face he got me FAWKED UP!!!!!! but it’s p sexy when him and y/n fight ngl like my petty scorpio ass gets it and it kinda hurts too bcuz he’s just tryna protect chan 🥹 missus rin out here creating complex layered characters ikdfr

y/n feeding chan when he’s sick,,, and their convo about the binary stars DAWG. that’s gotta b the most romantic shit i ever heard in my life stfu 🥲 CHAN CRYING WHILE EATING HER OUT GOT ME BY THE THROAT BTW SAWRY LIKE IT PROB ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HOT BUT IT WAS SCRUMPTIOUS 2 ME,,, then everything that came after,,, girl i ain’t even gonna pretend 2 b a bad bitch i fucking cried. idk how but you fr have this amazing talent for writing emotions beautifully but not like romanticized yanno?!?! it just feels so raw

the last line of this part hit like a truck btw 🫡 i’m literally in love wit you and this series thx for another banger chappie girlie queen i gotta feeling tht things are gonna get even crazier in the next one

LMFAOOO the way i just knew ur next ask would be abt a certain lee minho…i’m not saying i encourage you to bodyslam him but i will conveniently look away if you do 😽

i did definitely make lino nastier than he needed to be hehe despite how infuriating he is it’s admittedly pretty fun to write >:) the scene where he tries to stop the reader from checking on channie was actually the first snippet i ever wrote of bb! but i’m so glad that his intentions are coming across properly despite his terrible methods haha i had a few misgivings abt portraying minho that way so it’s a relief that his reasoning seems to be understood!

PLEASE that makes me so happy to hear 😸 the binary stars part was a bit of a guilty pleasure u know i just couldn’t resist some corny lovey dovey space talk…it is channie after all! and don’t worry abt that HAHA i understand you on a fundamental lvl…probably not the most appropriate time to be a dacryphiliac but smth abt that emotional openness in moments of intimacy is just so good <3

and what a high compliment thank you so much babe!! i’m so touched you think so, esp since evoking emotion is one of my biggest struggles when it comes to writing ㅠ i don’t really see it as my strong suit so it means the world to me that bb3 could stir those feelings in you! i’m also very sorry if it caused some tears i think this entire series has turned out a bit heavier than i’d intended…i hope the happier parts balance it out 😭 thank you so much for always being so enthusiastic in ur msgs, it’s such a joy to read what u have to say and you’ve encouraged me so much w ur kind words! i love u right back my dear ♡