#but even the escape into fandom and fanfiction is draining me

[koulakoukoula2003]

How do you deal with writer's block? Asking for a friend lol

YOU DON'T DEAL LMFAOOOO

ok jk jk there IS a way, but first you gotta figure out what causes you writer's block in the first place and once you figure that out, then you know how to stop it.

What causes Writer's Block and How to deal with it

If you got writer's block it generally means you're out of ideas, but there are three possible causes:

Indifference: If you're writing fanfiction, you are no longer interested in the fandom/character you're writing for. If you are writing an original book, you are no longer interested in it.

Personal Reasons: You are hitting depression. Life gets in the way. You are too busy thinking about your irl problems AND THAT'S OKAY.

Low confidence: Nobody is giving you attention. You write a 400k word slow burn you've DEDICATED YOUR LIFE into, and you're spending your nights writing it and you've literally poured your soul into it, but NO ONE READS IT. You get no comments, no kudos, nothing, no one is excited about this as much as you are (this one hurts like a mf)

(1) is what 50% of writers are going through when they're having a block.

Your friend IS NO LONGER INTERESTED IN THE FIC/BOOK THEY'RE WRITING.

Hear me out, remember that excitement you have when you're watching/reading a series/movie/book/manga and you're like OMG THAT CHARACTER'S SO HOT IM GONNA WRITE A 300K WORD SLOW BURN FOR THEM?

Yeah, when you get writer's block, you know that excitement is gone. Your brain is just no longer interested in that character/story and no matter what you tell yourself "I gotta write this, I gotta finish it, I love this character, I love this story, I gotta-" stop. If you keep this up, you're gonna force yourself to write, and anything you write that is forced will come out terrible.

Then you'll figure out your book/fic is written terribly, and then you'll tell yourself I SUCK AT THIS, I SHOULD STOP WRITING (Which is not true because when you're not forcing yourself, you're probably writing like some god of literature).

And this is when you're absolutely finished and I promise you, you will not write ANYTHING for like a year because your confidence as a writer crumbles.

So DON'T do that.

The first thing you do when you realise you got writer's block, YOU DON'T FORCE YOURSELF TO KEEP WRITING. Subconsciously, you DON'T want to write but you don't know that. Consciously, you tell yourself to write and write and write cuz YOUR LIFE DEPENDS on finishing that fic (or that's what you think) and you just GOT to finish it.

No. This is wrong. Your life will not stop if you don't finish that fic and even if you're going to disappoint hundreds of readers IT'S.OKAY! PUT. YOURSELF. FIRST.

ALWAYS put yourself first. If you're writing fic, your readers AREN'T paying you to write it, so any demands they make of you to finish it, are NOT VALID.

You can't force yourself to do stuff because other people want you to do them, cuz that will drag you down depression and then you'll realise your writing is bad, you're not happy with it neither with yourself, and what was merely a hobby that you used to make you feel better SUDDENLY BECOMES A CHORE.

Writing is not a 9-5 job. Writing is a hobby. You do it IF you want to. If you let other people force you to do things, then I'm sorry, but you must be miserable.

(2) well I can't tell you how to deal with that. Personal Reasons can involve maaaany things.

You're dealing with a toxic bf/gf/x and they're draining your energy and suddenly you can't write?

You got a really hard job and your boss is pressuring you? Or you just got fired?

You got one of your parents in the hospital or both of them, or relatives and friends and siblings are suddenly dying out of nowhere? Heck maybe you're dealing with some terrible physical or mental health problems.

In this case, abandon writing.

I know writing helps you escape your maddening reality, but you got shit to do, and shit to fix.

Life happened. Life is shit. Shit happens.

BUT REMEMBER writing is your escape. It DOESN'T solve any of your problems, but it is an ESCAPE.

When you open that damn word document and you stare at a blank page - it's not just a blank page. It's a fucking portal that you walk through it and you leave this god-forsaken world we live in. Even if it is just for a little while. A few hours? A few minutes?

Don't overdo it, though, because eventually you'll have to come back to reality and deal with your problems.

(3) the rest of 150% of writers suffer from low confidence (yes i know the math doesn't add up, bear with me)

check out this post of mine where i talk about writers with low confidence

are you writing this huge fic that no one cares about?

is it 102394857 million words and no one has read it?

Yeah, welcome to the world of depression LMFAO- ok ahem

You know, back in the old times when ffnet was the only fanfiction site around, we didn't really give a fuck whether people read our fics or not AND THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL! FIC WAS ALL ABOUT MAKING OURSELVES HAPPY

BUT NOW???? NOW ATTENTION MAKES YOU HAPPY, NOT FIC WRITING DSMKFNJH

im a fucking hypocrite cuz attention and long detailed comments make me happy too BUT these days, we've lost the true meaning of fanfiction.

What is fanfiction? Fanfiction is a hobby that helps us escape our terrible reality. Fanfiction is a hobby that makes you happy. Fanfiction helps you put into words all those fantasies you've daydreamed about with your favourite characters.

Fanfiction is NOT a means to attract attention. If you want attention, go post a pic of your juicy booty on instagram or some other social media.

I see fanfictionwriters here on tumblr complaining about not getting enough comments, but when they DO get comments, they don't respond to them.

I had this reader on ao3 who had been commenting for 150 chapters straight. At the epilogue, they told me that the reason they'd been commenting wasn't just cuz of the fic, but also because I was responding to all of them.

You're not the only one with low confidence. You probably got readers who would have commented more if you responded to their comments.

Now this applies to ao3 and ffnet. When we're talking about wattpad, i used to get 4k comments per chapter OF COURSE I CAN'T RESPOND TO THEM ALL LMAO

I'M JUST SAYING show that you are grateful that they read your fic. Thank them in every reply, in every notes you leave in each chapter. Be friendly and interactive.

Now, in the case you're writing a masterpiece that no one cares about and you suddenly got writer's block?

That's why you got writer's block. You're so excited about that fic but no one else is just as excited so you lose that excitement too. I've noticed that we, as writers, LOVE talking with other people about the shit we write.

If you don't have that, you get writer's block. No comments, no kudos, no hits, no one cares. Are you doing something wrong? probably yes, probably not. Get a stranger to read your work. Only a stranger will give you honest feedback. Your mom is gonna tell you your writing is amazing and great and all cuz she wants you to be happy. But a stranger WILL point out what you do wrong.

Look, all fanfictionwriters are attention whores. We are antisocial mfs and the only attention we can handle, it's the minimal interaction of comments through our fics. I GET IT.

My not-so-good advice is - write what you know that most people will read.

Anything that has to do with smut will get you 5k kudos and 100 comments per chapter in just three days LMFAO

YOU DON'T NEED to write an amazing plot. You don't need to write amazing characters with amazing development and your writing doesn't have to sound like Tolkien.

write TRASH.

No don't laugh im serious the world WANTS TRASH

write

the trashiest

MOST trashy TRASH

of all time

it will become a fucking movie i promise you SO LONG AS THERE'S A NASTY AF SMUT IN EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER WITH THE KINKIEST BS AND THE NASTIEST, MOST PERVERTED SCENARIOS YOU CAN POSSIBLY THINK ABOUT oh and don't make it bigger than 2 words (lmfao no im serious, ppl don't just want trash, they're even lazy when it comes to reading them)

But if you are a stupid dumbass like me, keep writing that 400k word fic that no one cares about AND IGNORE the lack of attention, because WHAT IS THE POINT of having attention when you're writing something that you don't want to write?

What's the point of attention if you're not happy with your writing?

You'll either get to write the story that you WANT to write, or you'll write some trashy abomination of literature (that many people will def read) just because you want attention.

Your choice.

How to deal with it?

Sit back, watch NEW series. Consume NEW CONTENT. NEW books, new stories, manga, movies, series, ANYTHING.

You are out of ideas and you need NEW ideas and what better than to watch some series? That series might pull out tropes and plot twists you've never even thought about before.

Am I telling you to steal someone else's work?

Remember when you were at school, and you hadn't done an exercise so you did it during the break when your bestie lent you their own response to the problem and you had to copy it BUT NOT ENTIRELY just to show that your own response is original?

That's exactly what I'm telling you to do LMAOOOO SERIOUSLY THO why do we call them tropes? The very famous hurt/comfort trope where the oc has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and the hot character comes in and soothes them and holds them and they get so uwu and the readers get the butterflies

EVERYBODY WRITES THAT

or the fluffy trope where the main ship is literally forced to share one bed? EVERYBODY WRITES THAT

OR the enemies to lovers, where the main ship wanna rip each others' eyes out but they only end up having a hot mindblowing hate fuck against some wall?

EVERYBODY WRITESSSS THAAAATTT

so yeah, whatever you write, there's no way it hasn't already been written. I've been watching that "it's okay not to be okay" series AND I'VE POINTED OUT SO MANY ANGSTY TROPES, IT'S UNREAL I'VE WRITTEN ALL OF THEM MYSELF LMAO

Consume new content, find the tropes you haven't used before, AND USE THEM. I'm not telling you to steal other people's work, I'm telling you to make something original out of them.

And in those new fandoms you're discovering, you'll find the next fandom you're gonna be so obsessed with and you're gonna write madly about.

[chai-hat-tea]

2022 Evaluation of my Fics

I was tagged by the nicest people @beardyboyzx and @thinlinez to answer a bunch of fic questions. Here goes nothing:

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 9

2. Word count posted for the year: 55,469

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Larry and Ziam

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Stranger Coffees

Bookmarks: Stranger Coffees

Comments: Up until now it was Stranger Coffees, but @thinlinez swooped in and changed it to I'm Weaker Without You

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): 

I like to think it's the latest fic I wrote (I'm Weaker Without You), but I genuinely can't choose. Maybe each story of mine has different reasons attached for my being proud of them. But yeah, even if they suck, I'm proud of all of my fics <3 but I admit I have a very soft spot for My Light and Fix You. They were the most thought-provoking or had the most character development of sorts and I love that.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

Hahaha on a normal day, I can't bring myself to read any of my works because I hate what I've written and can see it could've been so much better than what I've done, so again, I can't choose (yes I'm a terrible decision maker).

8. Share or describe a favourite review you received:

@thinlinez literally made my year by commenting on every chapter of I'm Weaker Without You and letting me know what they think! I was so nervous about this fic because I wrote just over 30k words in a little over 3 weeks and my brain was so fried, I was worried people would find my story pretentious or "trying too hard". Each comment from them was a godsend. :')

And I received comments from @beardyboyzx and @cigsandchampagnethat helped me get better and have faith in my writing, especially when I was at my lowest.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

I think writing in general has been really hard for me, especially fanfiction writing because 1) I've never done any story writing before this, and 2) I didn't think I could write any romance. But this month has been the hardest for me. To write 2 stories at the same time with life happening was just wild. I feel so drained out physically and mentally.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I think it would be the first smut scene I ever wrote. I didn't think I had it in me, but I managed to, even if it was really lame.

11. A favourite excerpt of your writing:

It's not a favourite per se, but I love the tenderness of it:

“Where are you lost,  jaan?” Hands wrap around Liam’s frame as he’s gently brought back to the present. He feels a soft kiss on his temple as he takes a deep breath in.

He turns back around to see Zayn smiling at him. He smilingly lifts his head up, Zayn leaning down to kiss him on the mouth.

“Nowhere, mon amour. Was thinking back to the times when I should’ve realised I’m not into girls.” Liam laughs.

Zayn makes a sound. “It’s okay, you were so young. You couldn’t have known, especially because you were around such homophobic people.”

Liam sighs. “I know it was bad, but honestly? I wouldn’t change anything about it. Because all of that led me to you, my dear husband. I would go through all of that and more, if it means I’m with you.” Zayn just kisses him.

Every first with Zayn has been one blissful moment after another. They’ve been through so much together, and he knows it only made them stronger, and more certain in their love for each other.

Zayn opened his studio and handed Liam his heart when he showed Liam his art for the first time. Liam hasn’t dropped it since.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I just grew haha!! I began writing, and that for me is the biggest growth. I know I have soooo much to learn in the world of writing, but I got over my fear to begin, and that in itself is a major growth for me :)

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

I just want to keep writing and have faith that I'm doing well. I just want to improve and get better in any way I can, because writing has been my best outlet and escape.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Comments from @thinlinez, and my friends @beardyboyzxand @cigsandchampagne. Every author in this fandom is a godsend, and I aspire to be half as amazing as all of you.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

A bunch actually. The Mane Man was based on me going to a salon (minus all the romance of it) and Fix You is very very very personal.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

I'm a baby writer, I'm the last person to be able to give any advice!! But one thing I would say is - WRITE. Write everything you can think of, and read even more than that. Read every genre, every book that you can get your hands on, and talk to fellow writers. You'll learn SO MUCH.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: 

I have a few ideas in mind, but nothing really concrete. I am considering taking part in more fic fests, so that it motivates me to write plot driven fics instead of just one-shots.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I would tag...@twopoppies, @indiaalphawhiskey, @greenfeelings...gosh so many authors I can think of (God these people know I exist now...yikes!! I'm a big big big fan by the way <3)

EDIT - I’m going to be courageous because today seems to be a good day, and tag EVERY author I can remember. @taggiecb @lululawrence @justalarryblog @wabadabadaba @allwaswell16 @jaerie @sadaveniren @beelou @fallinglikethis @panye @phd-mama @hearyouhowling @neondiamond @kingsofeverything @cherrystreet @disgruntledkittenface @crinkle-eyed-boo @marchessa @jacaranda-bloom @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @jishlerfics @tommokat @zanniscaramouche @thedevilinmybrain @isthatyoularry @mizzwilde @londonfoginacup @mercurial-madhouse @wicked-archer @alivingfire @mediawhorefics and members of @writerscornercafe that I’m clearly forgetting and I’m forgetting many or I don’t know their tumblr urls so yeah

[midoriyashotos]

Unbreakable

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Kirishima Eijiro/Midoriya Izuku

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijiro, Bakugo Katsuki; MINOR ROLES - 1-A students

Summary: “Get out of the way, Kirishima,” Katsuki warns him. “I won’t hesitate to break your face in fucking pieces!”

“Then DO IT! I DON’T CARE!” Kirishima roars. He’s never sounded this angry. “I won’t let you break Midoriya EVER AGAIN!”

--

In which someone finally stands up for Izuku.

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: basically I wrote Kirishima being protective of Izuku, because it’s interesting how he hates bullies but never stands up to Bakugo...

I hope this isn’t too OOC. Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - minor violence, bullying/abuse and injury.

*NOT BAKUGO/KIRIBAKU/BAKUDEKU FRIENDLY!

--

Izuku is happy, really.

Sure, it can be exhausting. It can be aggravating to live up to what comes with being the Symbol of Peace. And it’s also terrifying the reminder that Katsuki knows about his secret and has a lot more reason to hate him.

Not that Katsuki would ever quit hating Izuku, but still.

In the very least, the explosive boy doesn’t hit Izuku regularly anymore. People in their school don’t take Katsuki seriously like it happened in Middle School, so it’s a relief.

(They constantly call Katsuki and Izuku childhood friends, though.)

(Or rivals. Are they really rivals?)

Regardless, as long as Izuku stays away from Katsuki, he’ll be fine.

So, he’s happy.

--

When they can, 1-A has fun nights that may include eating cake and candies, playing games and watching movies – sometimes all in the same night. His classmates are very united in that sense.

Tonight, they’re sharing a big cake everyone helped Sato with; the teenagers are all separated in groups that fill the common room with life.

Izuku might subconsciously flinch every time a certain voice raises near him. Thankfully, it’s not directed at him – once he looks, he finds Katsuki and his friends messing with him. The greenette sighs in relief.

The boy spends most of the night alongside Uraraka, Iida, Tsuyu and Todoroki. At one point, though, Izuku rests alone on the green couch, honestly a little drained by all the energy today, given the yelling and cursing that persists in what should’ve been a good time.

As his head is stuck in his thoughts, Izuku jolts when someone reaches him in the almost untouched spot.

“Hey, Midoriya! What’s up, man?”

Kirishima grins at him. His usually spiky hair is down today (a detail Izuku strives not to stare at for too long, because that’s creepy).

“K-Kirishima-kun! Hi!” Izuku stammers.

“You partied a lot?”

Izuku laughs shyly, “Yeah, had plenty of cake.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kirishima smiles. “Mind if I take a break with you?”

“A-Ah, sure. I mean, you can sit! Feel free to!”

His red-haired friend sits close to him, maybe… a little too close, the other notes. Izuku holds his cup of now-warm soda, playing with it nervously. Kirishima’s enthusiasm and passion honestly still catch him off guard. At first, Izuku thought he’d be… different. Spiky hair, red eyes, sharp teeth…

Instead, Kirishima turned out to be one of the sweetest and brightest people Izuku has ever known. He brings a lot of spirit to their class.

(And now that Izuku knows, Kirishima does look a lot more friendly and… cute.)

“… Midoriya, you’re looking kind of red…”

Izuku’s green eyes enlarge comically, cheeks burning.

“GAH! I-It’s nothing, Kirishima-kun! It’s just- h-hot in here, isn’t it?” Izuku ignores the fact they’re all wearing sweaters in this chilly night; but he supposes Kirishima does it as well, since he doesn’t touch on it.

If anything, the redhead smiles at him fondly.

(For the love of All Might, it’s too breathtaking.)

Izuku finds some ease, though, in his friend’s heat next to him. Kirishima’s presence is solid and stable like his quirk, but soft and gentle all at same. It perfectly encapsulates who Kirishima is, as a hero and a person.

Still, the freckled boy can’t help but wonder why Kirishima has decided to join him. Izuku is not doing anything particularly interesting. They’re not talking… but it’s not awkward, either.

Regardless, Izuku’s peace is disturbed yet again by Katsuki’s yelling bursts, his steaming hands felt from far away. As always, it’s just Sero, Kaminari and Ashido having fun with him.

Before Izuku can dive in his terrified relief, he’s reminded of the fact Kirishima is next to him, and maybe watching him as well.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah… Kacchan’s enthusiasm is…” Izuku gulps, “a little too much sometimes.”

“Oh.” Kirishima sounds a little suspicious, but he quickly resumes his smiley nature. “Man, tell me about it,” he jokes.

Izuku holds his plastic cup tighter, refraining himself from tearing it apart and spilling all the soda on the floor.

“I can tell he’s having fun, at least,” Izuku analyzes. “He really likes you guys.”

“Yeah…” Kirishima pauses, only to laugh nervously, “he doesn’t really know how to show that, though.”

(Izuku recalls all the punches to Kirishima’s stony hair, and the insults Katsuki throws at him on a daily basis.)

“At least he likes you, Kirishima-kun,” Izuku reassures him in a lighthearted tone. “Kacchan was never happy with me.”

Admittedly, he hasn’t quite thought over these words – nor was he expecting Kirishima’s concerned gaze, his fondness of Katsuki gone.

“What do you mean?” The red-haired boy inquires.

“Ah, you know…” Izuku clears his throat, as his other classmates party and pay them no mind. “Kacchan’s called me weak since we were kids. He’s always been competitive, and- since my quirk took a while to show up”— he gulps due to the weight of the lie —“we were never…” he trails off, really not wanting to give more details.

“… you were never friends?” Kirishima completes.

Izuku swallows the bitter taste in his mouth and silently shakes his head.

“B-But it’s okay, though! We’re good now,” he tries to convince his friend (… and himself). “I just have to stay away from him because- you know how he is. But he’s got you guys as friends, so I know he’s happy.”

Kirishima looks away, thoughtful. He doesn’t seem entirely relieved by his words. Izuku suddenly feels the need to escape – what has he done?

“I- I need to go to the restroom!” He jumps from the sofa before Kirishima stops him.

Izuku is in such a rush that he doesn’t realize Katsuki is in his way.

“Oi!” Katsuki snaps. His eyes are immediately spiteful. “Deku…”

“K-KACCHAN! SORRY!!” Izuku runs even faster – how embarrassing.

“Get in my way again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Bakugo, chill,” Izuku hears Kaminari say nonchalantly.

This is his reality.

He’s happy with it. He is.

--

Everything was fine. Truly. Izuku has no idea what he did wrong.

(He’s never known, beside having no quirk in the past.)

They were training at the gym, outside of class time. Izuku tends to train on his own, but lately he’s been sparring with Kirishima, whose quirk helps with more physical attacks. It also helps Kirishima’s special technique in return.

Basically, Izuku and some of his classmates were going for a break, to drink water and eat whatever strengthens their quirks (like Sato having to eat more sugar). On his way, Izuku passed by Katsuki, who’s literally never in a good mood.

“Deku.”

“S-Sorry, Kacchan! You can go ahead!”

“As if I’ll fucking do what you say,” Katsuki bumps his arm into Izuku, hard, as he mutters in his breath, “shitty nerd.”

Izuku gulped and said nothing else.

(The freckled teen strived to not let One for All concentrate in his clenched fists.)

So, when everyone is gathered, chatting with one another, Izuku is admittedly distant from them. Katsuki would glare at him every now and then just for existing, no matter how far he was.

That’s the reason Izuku refuses to train with all of them when Kirishima suggests. Izuku tells them he’d be on his own again – his tone maybe too tight and serious. His classmates don’t question it, despite their concerned looks. Izuku tries to avoid Kirishima’s in particular – because he loves spending time with them, with him, he really does but…

“Yeah, leave Deku,” Katsuki voices in opposition, “it’s better than dealing with a dead weight.”

“Yikes, Bakugo! That’s really uncalled for!” Kaminari protests.

“I know you guys are rivals, but that’s too much, don’t you think?” Sero scolds.

Izuku stares at Katsuki, ignoring his classmates’ statements. Izuku stares deep into his red eyes: unlike Kirishima’s, they’re dreadful, have been since they were only five. He has the same superior stance and tone. Katsuki is the exact same person as the senseless bully that told Izuku to kill himself not too long ago.

The green-haired teenager’s look becomes intense. Furious. The kind of fury that doesn’t always show, because everything is bound to fall apart.

Even when his eyes avert from Katsuki, that’s what ultimately happens.

“Oi, fucking look at me!”

Despite Katsuki’s terrifying rage, Izuku defies.

“Why should I?” He mumbles, his voice gradually raising and deepening, “I can’t even exist near you.”

“What did you fucking say?”

Izuku’s hands clench into tight fists, glowing with One for All. His green eyes sparkle with intensity and ferocity.

“You heard me, Katsuki.”

The atmosphere is instantly changed.

“H-Hey guys, come on, don’t fight!...” Sero chuckles nervously, only to be pushed away by powerful hands.

Katsuki rages and advances, raising his arm.

Although he can defend himself, Izuku can only brace for the impact.

(It’s what he can do. The anticipation. The acceptance. He’s always expecting a blast to his face, and the reminder that he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, whether or not he has a quirk; nothing matters to Katsuki, as long as Izuku stops existing.)

Izuku waits.

But it never comes.

No. He hears the explosion blocked by something hard – hard like a rock. And once Izuku looks up, he covers his mouth to contain a gasp.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Kirishima screams, arms together like a shield, the sharp skin scratched by the burnings of Katsuki’s hands.

Katsuki himself is also shocked for a moment. For one, nobody else has ever dared to get in the way of his attacks, either because they’re too scared of him… or they don’t fear him enough to stop him. But most importantly, Kirishima has never stood up to Katsuki. Kirishima has endured his insults, sure, but he’s never defied him in an actual fight.

“Get out of the way, Kirishima,” Katsuki warns him. “I won’t hesitate to break your face in fucking pieces!”

“Then DO IT! I DON’T CARE!” Kirishima roars. He’s never sounded this angry. “I won’t let you break Midoriya EVER AGAIN!”

Izuku can’t move. He can’t say a word.

Katsuki is about to hit Kirishima again without any remorse, only for Sero to hold him back with as many tapes as he can make. Sato, Shoji and Koda help, while Kaminari tries to calm Kirishima down, which has zero effect.

“You’re not a man, Bakugo! You’re a goddamn abuser!” Kirishima points at him. “And abusers ARE NOT MY FRIENDS!”

“Dude, stop! You’re going to make it worse!” Kaminari scolds him, whereas Katsuki has already reduced himself to incomprehensible, enraged noises. Jiro might even rush to call Aizawa-sensei to hold both Katsuki and Kirishima back.

In spite of all the rage he must be feeling, Kirishima still stands protectively in front of Izuku, instinctively approaching him every time Katsuki threatens to break free and come after them.

Regardless, Izuku can still do nothing.

Nothing at all.

--

As expected, Katsuki and Kirishima are suspended for days – similar to when Izuku was forced to fight his classmate a few months ago.

Uraraka and Todoroki stay with Izuku as they wait. Only Kirishima returns to the dorms for now. His friends initially don’t understand why he fought Katsuki, assuming he’d lost his calm for nothing.

Yet Kirishima answers to none of these questionings. The moment he finds Izuku, his look softens, and he rushes to check over him.

“Midoriya,” he whispers in concern, “are you okay?”

Izuku dumbly gazes at him in response, swallowing a gasp when he notices the damage that Katsuki’s explosion did to Kirishima’s face; even with Recovery Girl’s help, the painful scratches can still be seen.

“K-Kirishima-kun…” Izuku chokes with tears welling up in his eyes, and the many feelings and words he’s struggling to understand.

The boy isn’t sure how he should feel. He’s guilty for putting Kirishima in danger, and for ruining his friendship with Katsuki. But Izuku is also angry at Katsuki for not hesitating to hurt someone that cares so much for him. Izuku is furious that Katsuki hasn’t changed at all.

Even so, the freckled teen feels relief. That someone was there, that someone actually stepped up and defended him.

(That someone was his hero, differently from when All Might saved him from the slime monster.)

Izuku launches himself towards Kirishima, wrapping his shaking arms around him. He wants to say all of those things so badly, but he fails. Kirishima’s soft arms hold him back and caress him, fingers running through his messy green hair.

“It’s okay,” Kirishima whispers to him, and says those same words countless times. Izuku’s cries are muffled by his shirt.

It’s like everything else disappears, and it’s only Kirishima and Izuku in this world. Kirishima shields him from every insult, every kick, every punch and slap across his face and his ruptured heart. Kirishima embraces his scars and making sure to be there to tend to them.

Izuku can only cry.

--

Later that night, Kirishima stays with Izuku in his dorm. It’s not like he can sleep with Katsuki’s room right next to his.

Izuku has already dried his eyes out of tears, and flooded Kirishima’s shirt as a result. Regardless, the two boys are glued to one another in Izuku’s bed, Kirishima rubbing his shoulders and the back of his neck. Izuku can’t help melting and clinging to him.

Even so, Izuku only has one question in mind.

“… Why did you do it?”

“He hurts you,” Kirishima answers simply.

Izuku gulps. “But he’s your friend…”

“I don’t think he was ever really my friend, Midoriya.”

Izuku pulls away to face him, the scratches in Kirishima’s face clearer than ever.

“I remember our first class with All Might. Bakugo wanted to kill you,” Kirishima harshly reminds, hands tighter on Izuku. “I knew there was something wrong with him, and yet I still went on to hang out with him. I admired his skills, I called him a man, I sacrificed everything to save his goddamn life because I cared about him. I… thought he was my friend.” He pauses. “Even when he called me Shitty Hair or hit me… I thought I could endure him – and maybe I did. But in the end, I ignored who he really was, and I let him hurt someone I care about for way too long.”

“No…” Izuku protests, “please don’t blame yourself! I was the one who—”

“Midoriya, you’re my friend. I knew Bakugo sucked, and even if he was my friend, I never did anything! And I’m really, really sorry.” Kirishima cups Izuku’s cheek with one of his hands. “I’m so sorry I ignored you. I promise you, I’m not enduring any of his shit anymore.”

Izuku gapes at him. “Kirishima-kun…”

“If he ‘cares’ about me, I don’t give a crap,” the red-eyed boy says firmly. “He sure as hell doesn’t respect me, only when I behave the way he wants. I don’t owe him anything, and I’m not standing around and letting him hurt me or my friends ever again.”

Maybe he should insist. Tell Kirishima that, if it weren’t for Izuku’s pathetic existence, his friendship with Katsuki wouldn’t have ended.

But Izuku doesn’t.

Because Kirishima is right.

Izuku’s hand touches his face, internally flinching when he feels the wounds caused by Katsuki.

“I just don’t want you to hurt because of me,” Izuku admits.

“Midoriya… nothing Bakugo does to me could ever hurt more than knowing he’s abused you for your whole life.”

Abuse. The same word he used for Katsuki earlier today.

“I’ll make sure he never hurts you again, okay?” Kirishima squeezes him. “I promise.”

Although he doesn’t literally say it, it’s clear to Izuku the love in his friend’s words.

The love in Kirishima’s smile whenever Izuku stutters and says a jumbled mess. The love in Kirishima’s concerned eyes when Izuku insists he’s okay when he isn’t. The love in his red eyes and words when Katsuki hurt him. The love in his touches, his soft hands protecting Izuku, understanding his scars.

Kirishima loves him. He really does.

Izuku bursts in tears again and Kirishima lets him, soothing him until the end.

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem!reader , platonic hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , amnesia recovery

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

what is hajime’s deal ? what did oikawa do to him to get him so upset ?

word count : 1.3k

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀you weren't an idiot. you know, damn well at that, you are far from an idiot. and you sure as hell hoped hajime didn't take you as one. you lost your memories, not your common sense.

⠀it was quite obvious that hajime had that oikawa boy pinned up against a wall, and not in the dreamy way fanfictions like to describe it as. no, there was definitely unwanted tension between the two; it was evident they didn't like each other. despised each other, even. whether you had known of this before or after your incident, you wouldn't have been able to remember something like that.

⠀you really, truly hoped hajime didn't underestimate your observation skills, or your common sense. any random passerby would've seen the anger blazing those olive hued irises of his as he glared down at your classmate. was it coincidence that it was oikawa of all people that you two happened to bump into after school? you wouldn't have known of the brunet's reasons to have stayed at seijoh; then again, it probably wasn't any of your business.

⠀you wanted to speak up and confront iwaizumi as you had turned the corner - he was fast, but not fast enough to back up from the other before you laid eyes on the two boys. if the atmosphere between the three of you alone wasn't suffocating, you might've. it wasn't like you were afraid of confronting him. he seemed like a reasonable person, open to communication.

⠀in truth, it was oikawa you were worried about.

⠀the poor guy turned pale, the color draining from his skin when you entered the scene. as to why he had such a pitiful reaction, you wouldn't be able to guess. from the looks of his typical poise and attitude during school hours, he certainly didn't seem like the weak, bashful type. and according to hajime, he too had played volleyball alongside him. however, the universe seemed to not want you to know of their current relationship status - every time you asked, distractions would get in the way of an answer. in this scenario, oikawa’s silent plea for an escape was what drove you to play the oblivious card. the relief that shone in both of their eyes as you turned around to walk away sent your stomach in nervous turmoil.

⠀come to think of it, you were pretty kept in the dark about all of this. you only knew as much as hajime was willing to tell. the idea of asking others wasn't appealing to you yet; hajime seemed to be quite content being the only individual answering all of your questions. and while you were more than grateful for his assistance and his company alike, there was always that voice in the back of your head trying to reach out to you, but you had no idea what it was trying to say. it was too blurry to be put into words.

⠀you waited in front of aoba johsai with your arms crossed loosely at your sides, waiting for iwa to take you home as he had been insisting to everyday this week. whether he wanted this to occur everyday or not, that’s what it seemed like to you. you didn’t mind, but you wanted to branch out and find out who your other friends were. you spoke to the volleyball team at lunch time, and you enjoyed their company tremendously. alas, it was the only time of day you were able to give them, as hajime was quick to escort you everywhere, practically glued to your hip.

⠀the thought of you two being in a relationship crossed your mind, more times than one. it would be a valid explanation for his behavior. he acted the way a boyfriend should - walking you to and from school, helping you with assignments and keeping you company after hours, even offering to carry your belongings when you can clearly do it yourself. you appreciated and acknowledged the chivalry, but when it became too out of hand, you were curious. if you two were an item before your accident, was there a reason he hadn't told you yet? you remembered quite clearly what happened that first day you woke up in a hospital bed, he made it clear that you and him were just friends - nothing more, nothing less - but his behavior has been convincing you otherwise.

⠀"hajime - " you were cut off by the way he gripped your wrist - firm, but nothing that could hurt you. you wouldn't have been able to pull away if you wanted to, though. his strength outmatched yours. your words caught in your throat, he was angry, very angry. the scowl painted on his face frightened you; you hadn't seen him act this way all week. was this oikawa's fault? what could he have done to make him this worked up?

⠀"hajime, please slow down. i can't keep up with you pulling me around like this." your voice was solid enough to knock him out of his frustration, he jolted a bit and loosened his hold on your wrist so you could pull back. his hands clenched into fists, but you could tell he had calmed down. not all the way, but he was sensible. you were on your guard. usually you could read him like a book - he was always open to you. now, there was no telling what he was going to say to you next.

⠀"y/n, i have a request for you." his voice was quiet, soft spoken - as if projecting any louder would let off a bomb. "of course, you're not obligated to, but i would really, really appreciate if you could do this one thing for me."

⠀"sure, it's the least i can do to repay the kindness you've showed me all week. i can handle a simple request." your body was tense, and so was his. however, the tension was created from two different reasons. "what do you need from me, hajime?"

⠀"stay away from oikawa."

⠀you blinked. "excuse me?"

⠀"as far away as you can, don't let him talk to you, don't let him step near you, nothing. you shouldn't be with someone like him." your eyes shot open wider as your feet abruptly ceased walking, your chest dropping to your stomach as he caught onto your reaction. you didn't need to open your mouth, he knew exactly what you wanted to say. "he doesn't look like it, but he's a bad person, y/n. you don't need him in your life, you're better off without that germ infecting it. he's done bad things - especially to you. i don't need to remind you, i'll just plague your thoughts with bad things. you don't need to hold that burden."

⠀the vendetta he held against oikawa sent goosebumps through your body, and it wasn't anything comfortable. now he's telling you that he knows something about you he never bothered to tell you about before? didn't you have a right to know? if oikawa hurt you, shouldn't it be your business so that you yourself can judge if you should stay away from him or not? his lack of logic was beginning to concern you, but the glare in his eyes stated clearly that he was taking no argument. and since he was the one with all of his memories, you really had no room to impose.

⠀"... yeah. got it. oikawa bad. very bad. do not engage." hearing your compliance flipped a switch, he smiled brightly and nodded.

⠀"i knew i could count on you, y/n. believe me, you're much better off this way. the things he's done, are completely unforgivable. if you had your memories, you'd agree with me."

⠀maybe, but you wanted to be the judge of that.

a / n : this stupid taglist almost made me cry i had to do it six times because tumblr kept glitching on me n my dumbass kept forgetting to save it BAHAHAHA

wow i’m being productive lmao. second post in one night WOOOOO who needs school 😼 n e ways bit of a self promo but my new smau, rumor has it, is finally out! would be grateful if u check it out 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

taglist : @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-a-lot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @citruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @lissa-writes-and-does-matchups @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddleslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammers @monviemoo @dicerawr @psychopath-satan

taglist closed , i’m so glad you’re enjoying the series! 🥺🤲🏼✨❤️

[n7punk]

So... I was looking through some of your fics on AO3 and noticed you kinda eventually stopped replying to comments? Is there a reason for that? Just so many at once because you're a popular writer and it overwhelmed you?

Honestly this is a question I should add to my FAQ since there always seems to be confusion about it, so I'm gonna clarify things around it so I can link back here.

I read all my comments. I always have.

I don't reply, but they still encourage me and help me see what's working. Seeing people excited about what I've written or theorizing about the story (whether they're right or wrong) is a huge motivation. Sometimes comments even remind me of things I wanted to reprise and thus add/change future moments in the fic.

I have had a disclaimer about not replying to comments on my AO3 profile for at least a year, but it might predate my She-ra fics entirely.

It was easier to reply to comments back when they were small in number (like back when I was writing 'catcher'). I have anxiety and a fatigue condition. It takes spoons (it takes some of my daily writing, working, and living time/energy resources, which I already have in very small supply due to my disabilities). Some comments were easy/quick to reply to, but most weren't. Asks take energy as well, but usually less, partially because they often have something in them I can easily focus on for a reply, and partially because I feel less guilty about them.

In December 2020, I committed to replying to people more on all my social media. I wanted to acknowledge the people that gave me such motivation. However, the social guilt of not replying turned out to be far less draining than the social anxiety of actually doing it. I quickly became overwhelmed. During my fic advent leading up to New Years, many comments slipped through the cracks. Replying to them absolutely wasn't sustainable for me, and only lasted about a month.

I've mentioned that the comment section on 'strange disease' was discouraging before. I had so many comments demanding more updates (despite the fact I was already updating multiple times a week), I had people who clearly wanted to read a different lore/plot and instead of finding something else, wanted me to change my story to fit their personal tastes in supernatural/werewolf fiction (I assume because it's rarer in this fandom so they wanted the person doing it to do it to their tastes since no one else was, but there's no excuse), etc. I had never had a comment section be that dismissive of me as a person/writer before, and I was going through a ton of stuff in my personal life at the time. Because of that comment section, fanfiction went from being my one escape to being another demanding and draining thing.

I got to the point where I had the fic open and was hovering over the option to turn off comments completely. They were fucking with my head. I found that replying made me put a lot more weight on what comments said. I was worrying about them and what the reaction would be as I was writing instead of just enjoying it. They sucked the joy out of writing for me, but even at that low moment I knew that I love writing.

Instead of turning off comments completely, I formed a new policy around them for my mental health: I delete any comment off a fic that is dismissive to me as a person (demanding updates/changes/etc). I still save the encouraging/useful ones in my inbox, and I always pay attention to ones that are confused or think they've spotted plot holes (even though the majority of the time they just miss something in the fic) to make sure my writing is clear, but I don't reply.

This has helped me enormously. It took me awhile to really get on my feet again, but iHTWcyn was a bit of a breakthrough. It also took awhile for the new mentality to settle in and take shape after I decided it would be the healthiest thing for me. Now, my attitude is 100% that I write for myself and if you don't enjoy something about my fics (that isn't an actual problem and not just down to personal taste, at least) then I'm deleting your comment and you can move on with your life because I'm going to.

And that's kinda the summary on my comments journey. I reply to asks as I'm able/interested, but especially if they contain spoilers or I'm low energy I'm likely to just delete them. I still read my comments, but I'm not going to change my writing to please them, and I'm not going to spend my limited energy resources on them when it would bring me more joy to use them on something else.

[canonconspiracy]

Cosmic Power (Avery x Rival!Reader)

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21 

Fandom: Pokemon Shield - Isle Of Armour

Pairing: Avery x Rival!Reader

Cross-posted to my Ao3 and Wattpad (rmorningstar21).

Warnings: Uh. Um. Hair braiding?  Avery’s attitude? Avery’s about 20 in this if I remember correctly.  Pokemon-related puns. FLUFF.

AN: Speaking of one-shots that have been sitting in my docs forever, here’s another Avery (My Pokemon Oneshot Collection is probably screaming for something else, but-).  

Downtime on the Isle of Armour was rare, while downtime with the man who considered you his rival was far more of a rare occurrence.  Typically, during these times, he would press you for a battle.  Even if it had been so late that you were nearly slumbering standing, he would still ask.  Once a day, the two of you would always go at one another, and every day, it turned out to be the absolute same.  Your victory had been assured since the moment you stepped onto the Isle of Armour, and yet, somehow, he would learn from every battle with you.  You had to admit it was nice, but spending some quiet time with him had been something you were fishing for since the beginning.  

It would be a flat out lie to say you didn't want to feel how silky those long blond locks of his were.  More than once, you complimented them in passing, or complimented his cerulean eyes.  Never did you admit straight out that you found him to be outright gorgeous, stunning, ravishing, or any other insane ego boosters, but you would throw in the occasional compliment.  

Sitting outside the dojo together, you lived in a comfortable silence.  Avery needed a break, or to recharge his psychic energy, as he said, and you had been training for a week straight.  He had not spoken up about you just sitting beside him, nor had he sparked any sort of conversation with you.  Staring off into the beauty that the Isle of Armour encompassed, the two of you peacefully shared the same fallen log.  

Taking another glance to the psychic type gym leader, you bit your lip gently, before quickly looking away once more.  The way that you did so was not as subtle as you hoped, the gentle breeze your y/h/c locks made as you shifted back to the view catching his attention.  Though you made it seem as if you were simply staring out at the roaming pokemon, Avery was always quite astute.  

Cerulean eyes flickered over to you, a blond eyebrow raised in question.  "My psychic energy is far too drained to read your mind, Y/N," he pressed.  His gaze stayed for more than a minute, far more than enough time to notice the way your cheeks heated with crimson.  

"I-," you started, furrowed your brows as you tried to think of how you could even ask to invade his personal space in the way you wished.  Allowing a sigh to escape your parted lips, you just allowed the words to tumble off your lips.  "I was wondering, ah, if I could braid your hair." 

"You want to…" he questioned curiously, his tone fading as he contemplated it.  He never allowed anyone to touch his hair, let alone style it in such a manner.  The psychic gym leader had been perplexed to say the least, the thought of your nimble fingers in his blond locks both a tempting and terrifying curiosity.  

"I, yeah," you said softly, barely above a whisper.  Your cheeks darkened as you quickly tried to play it off.  "It's fine if it's a no.  I just think it would be nice." 

Avery allowed a sigh to escape his lips, though he proceeded to use his telekinesis to place the hat he adorned to the side of him, pokeballs gently tucked underneath.  "If you pull," he spoke lowly, a hint of warning in his tone, "I will never allow you near my elegant locks again." 

"Understood," you hummed out, a smile making its way to your lips as you moved to position yourself better to do a small braid.  You picked his left side, your nimble fingers gentle as you collected and separated the silky blond locks.  As a hum of approval graced your ears from your blond rival, you could not help how your lips curled upwards more.  

Each time you weaved his hair into a braid, you did so slowly as to not pull or discomfort the man.  With each motion, you could feel the sheer silk of his locks, how well-maintained he kept his hair.  The faint sounds of your surroundings could be heard, from the gentle patter of wild pokemon to the sifting of the breeze through the berry trees, but in this moment, it was just the two of you.  

The contented way he sighed as you played with his hair filled your heart with warmth.  Occasionally, you would steal a side glance to his cerulean eyes, admiring the handsome profile of his sharp features before doing another weave.  Reaching the end, you found the bright smile against his lips so serene.  

Though you had nothing to tie the braid with, it stayed rather well in his silky locks as you gently set it down, admiring your work.  As you admired it, his head turned, cerulean gaze meeting you as his cheeks pinkened the slightest bit.  "I can admit, that was rather pleasant," he murmured softly.  "...thank you.  Now, let me see your rotom."

You hadn't questioned why he needed yours, calling out rotom for him to use.  In moments, the man had your rotom in camera mode, one swift motion pulling you upon his lap.  Your flustered face, brilliant smile, accompanied his smirk, his head tilted far enough to show off the braid.  With another snap, he had you more comfortably sitting upon him, resting back against his chest, as he moved his head to press a gentle kiss against your cheek.  One last command and he sent the pictures to his phone as well, before allowing the rotom to head back into your bag.  

As you queried a brow to the male, he chuckled in reply, wrapping slender arms around your waist.  "You mustn't think I'm oblivious to your pining," he murmured as he held you close, closing cerulean eyes as his chin rested upon your head.  "Admittedly, I feel a cosmic power to you as well." 

[5lazarus]

Masterlist of My Stories

My Writing

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, I post a snippet of what I'm currently working on.

On Mondays, I post the last lines of the stories I'm finishing up, as well as lessons learned from the previous week. I post this under the tag #last line monday and #lessons from the week.

On Wednesdays, I throw up a snippet of fanfiction. I post this under the tag #wip wednesday.

On Fridays, I write at least seven lines of my own stories, either poetry, essays, or fiction. I post this under the tag #seven line friday.

On Sundays, I post at least six lines of fanfic. I post this under the tag #six sentence sunday.

For more information about me, check out my About Me page. I don't answer personal questions unless I share an asklist, I don't take prompts unless I share a promptlist, and I don't keep anonymous asks on. I've also made two promptlists--one a writing challenge, the other a list of poetry prompts! Find my work archived and updated under hes5thlazarus on Archive of Our Own.

Below is a catalogue of my stories, broken down by fandom (Dragon Age, Harry Potter, Star Trek):

My Dragon Age Stories

There Is No Ithaca Three moments where Solas loses his home: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Fen'Harel negotiates the end of the world with the Thaig of the Bastion of the Pure. Answers to various asks from brightoncemore's wonderful promptlist.

Ultramarine Sylaise attempts to trademark the color blue, initiating a civil war. Fen'Harel disapproves. Felassan, at this point, is just along for the ride. Highlights include: Andruil attempts to create biological weapons out of the conquered children of the stone and sell them to absolutely everyone, Mythal may or may not involve, Solas greatly disapproves, and everyone wants to kill Fen'Harel for disapproving. Also an explanation as to why Solas has to think before answering Sera on whether he has ever pissed magic by accident. Sorta a love story, sorta a comedy, sorta a story about political intrigue--but hey, Solas said Arlathan was even worse than Orlais! A big thank you to potatowitch and isomede for talking me through this and getting me to finish it--and for giving me the best ideas for it.

Overheard at the Hanged Man Thirty-one stories written in Nightmare-mode for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Artober Challenge, ranging through the entire series, from Arlathan before the Blight to the Chargers in Serault.

Alistair the Accidental Heretic Alistair gets bored during morning prayer and starts changing the words of the Chant as he sings. Mother Prudence and Knight-Commander Greagoir are less than pleased, and soon he finds himself tripping up over accidental heresy even within the kitchens of Kinloch Hold. It's not easy, being a half-elf templar with a conscience, because even having a sense of humor is heresy.

The Starkhaven Crier A portrait of two future apostates at ten-year-olds: Jowan and Surana are bored, get dragged to the Chantry for the good of their souls, and accidentally make the new girl from Starkhaven cry. Featuring Surana determined to be the one Dalish against letting the Maker come back, the self-hating mage in the Surana/Amell origin as the Starkhaven Crier, and the same Mother Prudence who sent Alistair to bed without supper. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Morrigan at the Crossroads Morrigan reaches her breaking point, confronted with the one person she cannot flee: her six-week-old son, who cannot be soothed back to sleep, struggling in the Crossroads. From a prompt musettta3 sent me.

Shartan's Riddle Surana talks Mahariel through writing Leliana, after Leliana leaves to work for the Divine. Shartan promised them a home, and Mahariel worries Leliana, devout as she is, cannot give it to her. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Winter in Amaranthine The Wardens' companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Palimpsest Velanna and Sigrun fight some darkspawn, talk around the past, and write some letters. Written as a gift for hellbell, for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange.

Phosphorescence A Despair demon in the Foundry district is clogging up the whole city with a miasma of misery. Justice runs into an old friend of his, during Anders' first few weeks in Kirkwall, and the three set to work. Heavy-handed allegory abounds, but, Justine opines, that’s the Dreamers’ fault. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Labyrinth "Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Kirkwall Thunderstorm Family squabbling as the storm sets in, Hawke flees to face the thunderstorm head on, and laughs, because what's more to life than this, chasing a storm all the way down to the harbor? From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Debutante Leandra manages Hawke's debut ball, and surprises herself by having a lot of fun. From an OC ask I decided to turn into a prompt.

Dregs Anders baits Varric, or Varric baits Anders, both drunk at the Hanged Man. There's no resolution to an argument when they're both just angry, thinking about dead mages. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

The Scent of Pomegranates Merrill brings a pomegranate to the Hanged Man, to try and capture some of the way her clan celebrated the new year. Fenris is oddly moved. Written for the DA Den's 2020 Holiday Gift Exchange.

Anders in Autumn Anders and Fenris, over the course of one gorgeous autumn in Kirkwall, find common ground, a common goal, and even tenderness, as the city grows cool and vibrant in the changing of the year. Justice returns to the streets of Kirkwall, one way or another, and it is as transformative and loving as justice truly is. An answer to an Artober challenge from cozy-autumn-prompts

Warp & Weft Anders wakes Fenris up in the middle of the night talking, and then not wanting to talk, about weaving. What they remember and what they have forgot climb into the bed with them. A gift for potatowitch.

Landlocked Merrill goes looking for Isabela after a night of drinking at the Hanged Man, and finds her considering the sun rising over the horizon at the docks. They're landlocked and the salt's drained them both dry, but maybe it's not all been a waste. They're shipless, not shipwrecked. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

Love and Red Ink Varric tries his hand at a more literary Bildungsroman about his youth as a Kirkwall bohemian. Bianca tears it apart, editing for his own good. Sometimes love is in the margins, your almost ex-girlfriend telling you--I wasn't that pretty, when I was that young.

The Most Boring Sex Party in All Orlais Josephine and Leliana both admit the night they met ended with someone's smallclothes pinned to the Chanter's Board--but what happened right before? Josephine says, “I have played the Game before, and understand its cutthroat stakes. But I must admit, I never thought I would witness the opening salvo of a coup at the most boring sex party of all Orlais.”

Catabasis Kirkwall's in ashes and Hawke and their friends are on the run. Varric might have ended the story at the docks, but the conflict continues. The question persists: should they separate? And what brought them together in the first place? From a series of prompts ellie-effie and musetta3 sent me.

The Domestics Alistair runs into an older elven woman on the battlements, watching the children play in the Skyhold courtyard below. They get to talking: isn't it nice that the mages get to keep their children now? Then, in the course of the conversation, Alistair figures it out. Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.”

The Bane of Red Crossing In the astrarium cave in the Storm Coast with Inquisitor Lavellan, Cole, and Solas, Sera opens a chest and finds a beautiful bow, named the Bane of Red Crossing. But what is the Bane of Red Crossing? According to the codex: "Ser Yves de Chevac used this bow in the Exalted March against the Dales – specifically, in the liberation of Val Royeaux, where the chevalier famously struck down the elven forces' commander with a shot to the throat at two hundred feet." Lavellan is not pleased, but does not know how to communicate effectively with Sera. Cole and Solas make it worse. Sometimes there is no adequate resolution, when you are faced with the instrument of your great-grandparents' destruction. Sometimes there is nothing that disinterested compassion can say.

To the Victor the Spoils In the Skyhold gardens, in Adamant's wake, Solas meets Loghain. A character study of two trickster-kings, speaking a little too honestly. As Loghain himself says, "The past is always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and we wear it on our skin. You can think otherwise, but you’ll never get far without it."

Dead Man Hiking Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, "he wants to give wisdom, not orders," and Dorian loves to learn. Written for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Satinalia Gift Exchange.

So Much Lore! So Much Information! Dorian has a wonderful conversation with the Skyhold Librarian about improvements to the library's filing system and the innovations coming out of Minrathous when Vivienne comes by and points out he's just talking to himself. He's been waxing rhapsodic about the Tevinter equivalent of the Dewey decimal system to a spirit--or maybe a demon. So clearly they must investigate.

Dirthara Ma! May You Learn After the Exalted Council, Solas stops for a drink and a sulk in a quiet tavern in Ostwick. He is convinced no one will ever recognize him with a full head of hair and a beard. Then the Inquisitor walks in. The first in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series.

White Nights A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers--and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking. “Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” The second and most comprehensive in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Ligaments Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” The third in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Out From Under the Dread Wolf's Eye Briala and Merrill try and steal an eluvian out from under the Dread Wolf's eye. It doesn't quite work, but that doesn't mean the day's a failure, not when there's dinner to be had and a connection to explore. Written as a gift for hellbell, for a prompt they gave for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange, but not submitted to the collection.

The Domesticities Solas adjust to a new, gentle love that has gripped his heart and will not let him go: a Lavellan who heralds a world he did dream of, and learns how to survive grief and his own betrayal, learns how to surrender the high moral ground and focus on the domesticities. A series of Solas-POV ficlets from my story, Fen'Harel's Teeth, where Lavellan is a mother and leader in her own right, and barely keeping her head above the water of her own deep grief. Not in chronological order!

He Who Hunts Alone Solas will restore the Elvhen People as he knew them, even if this world must die. It is his only purpose as he understands it. But a magical accident leaves him in another world, where a version of himself has made a very different choice. Solas is forced to reckon with a desire he has never let himself explore. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan, both his friend and adversary, is dragged with him, as they move from their world, to a world where Solas seems to have won it all, to another that seems both their worst nightmare. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan: the rebel apostate mage, romanced Josephine Inquisitor Imladris Lavellan: the Dalish First, romanced Solas, featured in Fen'Harel's Teeth Inquisitor Brigid Trevelyan: the faithful Andrastian prophet, rogue and noble, Tara's sister, romanced Blackwall and then Cullen Written in tandem with my partner, batsy22-me, and likewise abandoned when we got bored of it.

Fen'Harel's Teeth First Lavellan, Imladris Ashallin, thought that her audience with the Divine against templars' harassment of Dalish mages would be a token protest, and that her people would use it to draw the city elves closer to the Vir Tanadahl. She didn't think her Keeper's calculations would catapult her to the top of the Chantry's leadership, manipulating the powers of Thedas to leave her people be. Meanwhile, Briala foments revolution in Halamshiral, using the eluvian network to sabotage the armies of Orlais. A new movement erupts in the Dales, and elves across Thedas look at this so-called "Herald of Andraste" and see Mythal's vallaslin. Fiona breaks the chains of mages across Thedas, and Fenris starts whispers of a new age in Tevinter--one where the slaves throw down their masters. A new age is coming, and all of Thedas look to Lavellan to usher it in. My baby, my never-ending story, my current work-in-progress.

My Harry Potter Stories

Harry Potter Daydreams Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3. These are not necessarily nice to the characters from canon, and focus what I find interesting--their flaws, and how that could create conflict in their lives.

General Snape Headcanons Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3.

Augury Gang Eileen's mother curses her, and she dies not too long after giving birth to Severus. Tobias, a millworker and a proud union man, does his best.

Snape in the City Instead of dying, Snape moves to New York. A Severus Snape/Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape/Regulus Black story.

An Incident at the Mill the millrat AU A series of vignettes on what could’ve happened if Tobias Snape had been badly injured in an accident at the mill, forcing Severus to drop out of Hogwarts before the Prank. Predominantly Lilycentric. Snily shippers, rejoice: most of the vignettes are from Lily’s point of view, featuring her as flawed, passionate, bullheaded, comfortable in her sexuality, quick to curse and quicker to laugh at herself–and with a complicated relationship to alcohol and the Wizarding World. A big thank you to eleniaz and deathdaydungeon for sparking the initial headcanons that became this series.

Saplings 1980 Albus asks Minerva to tend to the "tender new sapling" of a Potions Master. Minerva looks at the manic-triggered recovered Death Eater and thinks they're doomed for failure. Snape thinks she's right. A couple of friendship & mentorship & not-quite hurt/comfort ficlets, where Severus oozes despair and McGonagall fails, completely, utterly, to be of service. There are two pieces of fanart floating around Snapedom, one of Snape oozing, the other a comic eleniaz did years ago. Unfortunately I've lost the links.

Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather In an alternate world where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter's parents divorce relatively amicably. Eventually, Lily starts dating again, and Harry finds himself actually enjoying the summer Snape stays over.

Last Round at the Hog's Head Thirty-one ficlets written for the 2020 Snapetober challenge.

Your Body's a Revolution Eight stories written for the 2020 Trans Snape Week challenge.

July 1977 Snape stews in teenage melodrama, eating lunch at a cheap fish-and-chips shop in Upper Cokeworth, beset by memories of a wasted ex-girlfriend, who couldn't be Lily Evans--what Bertha Jorkins saw behind the greenhouses, and what came after. Revised from an earlier account, cross-posted from fanfiction.net.

Maleficari's Mutinous Munitions Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Prompted by masaotheheckindog.

Honeydukes Horror Remus Lupin genially humiliates Severus Snape as he attempts to order chocolates. Some schoolboy grudges never get better, and nothing Severus can say will let him seem the better man. Prompted by snapescapades.

Weavers Bored before the start of sixth year, Harry goes through Petunia's old family photo albums. He demands some answers, and Dumbledore sends Snape. "He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: 'Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!' The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape."

They Call This Closure? Severus comes to consciousness into a dream of Potter reenacting his worst memory-and then Lily Evans comes tearing in at age sixteen, rather than as the more mature adult his subconscious normally designs her. They call this closure? Officially dead, officially incomplete: and I call this closure?

Harry Potter and the Cursed Mark Triple-cross! Mitarashi Anko of the Village Hidden in the Leaves joins Severus Snape as one of Dumbledore's agents, seeking to train the Boy-Who-Lived to understand his mental connection to Lord Voldemort. Snape thinks that they really didn't need to hire a goddamn technicolor ninja to fill the DADA position, but at least it's not one of Fudge's underlings taking charge--wait, he has to put up with her anyway? More seriously, Anko and Severus discover a connection between their cursed marks and the Potter boy's scar, Dumbledore expedites the plot, and Voldemort weaves an insidious plot, inspired by Lord Orochimaru, to take over the Resistance--from the inside. Incomplete and officially dead.

My Star Trek Stories

Raktajino Kira Nerys stews over the history of Terok Nor and the Occupation over a cup of raktajino, soon after she meets Marritza, and Garak just does not know when to leave a bleeding wound alone. Written as a gift for batsy22-me.

Open Mic at Quark's Thirty-one stories written for Trektober 2020, ranging from TOS, the movies, to Lower Decks and Discovery. Includes Keiko joining the Maquis, Spock introducing Amanda to Saavik, Mariner and crew getting lost on a road trip, and more!

Splash Quark takes a dip in a hot spring. Odo follows. It is not, Odo insists, sexy. Regardless, Quark is going to enjoy tormenting him with mutual nudity, since he was the one who interrupted his bath, after all. Prompted by saathiray.

Lore and the Prophets Lore thinks he can sneak off Deep Space Nine and get through the wormhole without anyone noticing. The Prophets have other ideas. Written for the Star Trek 2020 Gift Exchange, for electricsunrise.

Jambalaya Before Worf's wedding plans take over the station, Benjamin Sisko tries to find out what happened during the Founders' occupation of Deep Space Nine, and why Odo won't look him in the eye. Of course he investigates in the guise of inviting everyone to dinner.

Tear of the Prophets Was prompted by saathiray to write about Kira Nerys repatriating an artifact sacred to Bajor from Cardassia, and this is what we got! The Shakaar cell leads a procession after Cardassia returns the Orb of Contemplation to Bajor, to collective joy. Kai Opaka says, "So I say to you my people, the survivors of atrocity and keepers of the wormhole—the Prophets cried for you millennia before you were made. They sent their Tears from their temple as a safeguard as to what was to come. And now that it is safe, now that we have won—their Tears are for all." Featuring Latha having an Orb experience, explaining why he became a vedek.

Jane Austen Book Club Dukat reads Pride and Prejudice to help him understand human relations (and fuck the Sisko). He thinks he’s being Darcy but really, he’s just Mr. Collins…and evil. Garak lends him a copy of Jane Austen and a horrific cravat, and really, it's all downhill from there.

Miscellaneous Stories

Fireworks, a feminist deconstruction of Naruto Sarada takes one look at the Uchiha legacy and decides she wants no part of it. Sakura, who has built herself a life independent of the husband who abandoned them, tries to reckon with how her daughter cannot actually decide the path her life takes. And Hanabi is happy to offer advice and consolation, as Sakura tries to talk her best friends into letting Sarada be a civilian. A feminist deconstruction of Naruto, where everyone is taken seriously and treated with the same love Sakura offers to all her friends. No character-bashing, just contemplating what could have happened if, when Sasuke left Sakura and their baby the second time, Sakura decided to file for divorce rather than wait for him to come back. Of course they still love each other. Of course it's not simple.

Same Time Next Week?, a Babylon 5 fanfic Vir and Lennier meet for their usual drink. A pre-relationship, lightest of touches, beginning of it all story.

Sunrise, Parabellum, a Disco Elysium fanfic Early Wednesday morning, before Harry's woken up and before they've closed the water lock and headed to the fishing village, Kim Kitsuragi gets up and wants a cigarette. He has a cup of coffee instead and contemplates his partner's newfound sobriety. Sunrise, parabellum: he gets up and prepares for war.

Dragon Eyes, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic On a diplomatic mission to the Fire Nation, Katara leaves the children with Aang to have tea with Zuko and Mai. But the two of them have something they want to talk about. They've lived enough of fathers neglecting one child for the other, and they have seen enough. Katara wishes they had propositioned her, rather than bring this up.

Cages, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic Mai visits Azula. It is not easy.

[britishsass]

I was tagged by my friend @tyriantyrant to do this, and in return I'll tag @cy-fi-theansweris42 and... Well, anyone else who wants to do it! ^_^

How many stories did you complete?

Well... There's 58 that I put on AO3 since August... And then at least 12 that I haven't published just for the last couple months. So... Let's say it's about 100, since I didn't publish any of my TF2 fics... Or maybe 125? Depends how kind you wanna be to me, heh.

What is your total word count for the year?

TOO FREAKING MUCH. It's at least over 200k at this point. at least 130k was just in Psychonauts fanfiction since the end of August. I won't go through all of it and add it up-- I like having sanity, plus I'm on mobile and in a car.

What fandoms did you write in this year?

I started off in Portal mode (mostly with AUs) and Gravity Falls, then added Team Fortress 2 and Psychonauts. And then I got stuck in Psychonauts. And I did not escape.

Did you write more, less, or roughly what you expected?

More. Way, way more. I was expecting to burn out. And then I just... Didn't. Ever since August, I've been writing almost non-stop.

What’s your own favourite story of the year?

As much as I love writing you set sail alone, there is no crew, I have a secret love for some of the smaller ones. For instance... Additional Memory. Another one I really feel proud of is Circle the Drain, in spite of it being a songfic.

What is your most underappreciated story of the year?

To be honest, I'm still surprised that not many people seemed to read Flowers Gasping Under Rubble. Though I do understand why. it's one of those things that's super duper dark.

But man... I want nothing more than to get to draw Fred from that...

Biggest fanfic-related disappointment of 2021?

My own stupidity when it came to the Psychoshift issues. I still feel terrible about my mistakes, even though I'm trying to fix them.

On another hand that's much less serious, I'm disappointed I can't get the courage to post the darn TF2 timeloop fic I wrote!

Biggest fanfic-related surprise of 2021?

The fact that I got fanart from people I don't know!! Or. Uh. Didn't know. I got to know them over time but it still makes me so very happy.

I'd add some here, but I'm aware this post is already a little long.

Something you’re looking forward to working on in 2022?

I'm looking forward to starting a real story for the Maligustus au, working more on Otto's Ordeal, and most of all... finally finishing you set sail alone.

And for anyone who's interested, here's my graph and the top few of 2021.

[mangolover]

Can Blood Piece Broken Glass Back Together? - Ikesen Kenshin angst fanfiction

Title: Can Blood Piece Broken Glass Back Together?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku / Ikesen

Pairing: Kenshin X F!MC

Genre: Angst

Warnings: This fanfiction includes sensetive themes like: suicide, mental illness, depression, self harm, blood and excesive drinking, Please proceed with caution!

Spoilers: There are some spoilers here, one of them being really important for Kenshin’s character development and to better understand him.

Word Count: 1700+

Description: F!MC has been feeling depressed and suicidal lately and Kenshin isolated her due to his jealousy problems, leaving her with no other option to escape her darkness, but taking her own life and breaking his fragile heart.

Enjoy!

It was hard to face life these days... It wasn’t the first time she had felt like giving up. Even before she travelled 500 years back into the past and found the love of her life, those thoughts were like an annoying guest to her, coming and going as they wished. Back in the future it was alright, times were much more peaceful and she could go to any of her friends or to her family, sometimes even seeking professional help. But now… Now her family wasn’t even born and her friends were mostly his enemies, enemies of the one person she was ready to call her own world, Kenshin Uesugi, the man who had imprisoned her heart, body and destiny.

Nothing particularly bad happened, she just woke up one day and felt… empty. It haunted her from when she was a teen, ever since she lost herself because she wasn’t like other girls on Instagram... She didn’t know how to express her emotions, that was one thing she always struggled with. And being with Kenshin didn’t help her with that.

Kenshin had his own demons that haunted his mind. They left his dreams after she had helped him, but he was still helping himself and couldn’t help her. That’s why she was really happy when she had a chance to see Shingen and Yukimura. Shingen was wiser and older and dealing with his own demons so he could always spare some advice or lend a hearing ear which was helpful to her. She could barely go anywhere alone to scream and release every damned emotion she felt, so she’d find her antidote in her friend Yukimura. Yuki would always bring a smile to her face and to that she was very grateful.

But that bugged Kenshin. He was sickly jealous and didn’t want them to hear her beautiful voice, to smell her beautiful scent, to fell her warm embrace as they hugged her to make her feel better, but he couldn’t be there for her. He was a busy warlord with many enemies. So, the only way to stop those haunting voices in his head was to cut them off. He asked his once arch enemy and his vassal to never show up again or there will be a problem. Shingen understood the hidden motive behind his threatening request, he was painfully aware of his demons and didn’t want his friend that he cared about so deeply going down that damned spiral of self-destruction again. So they retreated back to their own land, silently apologizing to her in their heads.

With no one there for her anymore, a new wave of hopelessness washed over her leaving her in even worse state, but like a sign from any gods there are, Sasuke, her buddy from the future, was there with her. He was a busy man, after all he was Kenshin’s employee, his own ninja, but he could always find the time for her, because she was the reason he endured all those four long years of ninja training, only hoping to meet her again and be able to help her. And even if their plans have changed, they were still in this together. Sasuke would listen to her and help her, even whrn she was at her lower points, when she was too close to the rock bottom, he would be with her. He could see her pale face and how much skinner she had become in the last months compared to a year ago when she first arrived in this time period. She didn’t eat properly, she didn’t sleep enough and those thoughts, anxiety and stress were eating her from inside out, she even left her job as the seamstress and decided to sit out her days on the veranda, looking out at the miserable garden that was once full of beautiful flowers with prickly thorns that made her bleed and hurt Kenshin.

Kenshin was once again hurt by her relationship with Sasuke and he didn’t hesitate to pull his trusty sword Himetsuru-Ichimonji on him. He cared for Sasuke, deeply, but he couldn’t shut those horrible, distorted voices in his head that were growing louder by second, telling him the curse and blessing that followed him. He could not be harmed and killed in battle, but everyone around him that he cared and loved ended up getting hurt or dying out of his reach to help them. It was eating him inside out, leaving behind only a shell of a man he once was or could be and a glass heart in his chest, hard to break, but once broken, hardly put together again, slowly killing him…

Sasuke was forbidden from seeing or touching her, only if she was in immediate danger and Kenshin wasn’t there to run to her aid. That broke her, leaving her with barely any hope, not strong enough to outshine the darkness in her mind and soul anymore. With all her loved ones now abandoning her or being forbidden to see her due to the side she chose, she was almost completely alone. There was one last chance to stop it all, to prevent the turmoil that was coming.

She had been alone for a week now, looking for a way to punish herself for being so weak without hurting Kenshin. She looked at that dagger she received from Oda forces before she departed from them in case she ever needed to save herself. ‘Should I do it?’ was her thought as she stared at its blade, pressing it to her fingertip, testing it’s sharpness. It could easily slash someone’s throat in an instant without much pressure applied, she was sure of that as she almost cut her finger and dealt another punch to Kenshin’s still fragile heart. Healing process was never going to be easy, if she wasn’t aware of that before, she was now. She just hoped it would be quicker, but she knew better than to rush him and risk all the progress, all the baby steps they made, going down the drain…

She snapped out of it when she heard the footsteps down the hall, announcing the early return of her healing lover. She frantically hid the dagger. Making sure she doesn’t cut herself, for the sake of both of their sanity. He greeted her as he slid open the door, shutting it behind him when he saw her face with a plastered smile. She is glad he was home in one piece, but she couldn’t find a way to really smile again. Kenshin must’ve been tired because he sat on the futon waiting for her to come and cuddle with him, but she was holding herself back. Maybe she should just talk to him about her demons, he promised to protect her all his life after all. ‘Yeah, I should just talk to him, I love him. He deserves to know what’s going on.’ However when she saw that beautiful true smile on his face when he hugged her, placing an affectionate kiss on top of her head, she lost all her courage to tell him and risk losing this happy Kenshin she loved so much more than his sad side.

That proved to be a fatal mistake on her part.

She couldn’t fight her monsters when it was too dark for her to see ahead anymore. The last light of hope extinguished its flame and left her completely alone and lost, this time with no resort to turn to. The antidote was now useless, nothing could save her. She was too far gone. She finally broke.

She was standing in the middle of her room, finally wearing the kimono she sewed last night using the fabric the Oda clan sent her, the fabric Kenshin would rip off her and burn out of his jealous rage. She wrote him a letter, explaining her thoughts in the best way she could and begging him to not blame himself. This time, it was completely her mistake because the only one getting hurt was him. She took a deep breath and muttered an apology under her breath before she slit her wrist, deep, causing her blood to splatter everywhere, quickly leaving her body. Sasuke was worried about her and he finally found some time to meet her with Kenshin being occupied hunting down some bandits in town. He silently slid into her room and saw a horrifying sight…

There she was, wobbling on her legs, losing conciseness by seconds, he froze to the spot, only to see her holding a bloody dagger with a pained smile on her face. He had to act quickly, he ran to her side, tying a piece of fabric around her wrist doing anything to try and stop the bleeding and, in an instant, he was out in the hallway, running towards the medic’s room, begging her to keep her eyes open and stay with him, he couldn’t lose her when he could’ve helped her. After dropping her of there he practically fell backwards down on to the floor, still covered in her blood and running his hands through his hair, drowning in unbearable guilt. His usually stoic expression was now painted with hurt.

Vassals learned about this and Kenshin was soon brought back to his castle, demons running wild in his mind. ‘What the hell was she thinking? How could I let that happen? Why was fate punishing mr once again, wasn’t the first time enough?? Wasn’t Isehime enough of a punishment for me??!’

But nothing could bring Isehime back… He is the one responsible for her death… He failed to protect his first love from himself and his damned curse that still kept him alive, only to torture him more…

Few hours passed that felt like they were years, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her side now, not when she was still ragging her war, fighting, the only question was to die or to survive. She may thought this was the best way to hurt him, one quick and hard punch to that glass in his chest, but it was the worst torture he could imagine. She was still visible, dying out of his reach. He sat at the veranda where she spent so many nights with her demons, downing bottles of sake, one after the another, and poured himself another cup, the one brewed in Azuchi, one he shared with her. Now it lost its special taste all of a sudden, causing him to push it off the table and shatter into millions of pieces, just like his heart when the final blow was finally delivered… One of those shards from his heart must've flew and stuck in her wrist, deepening the cut and therefore preventing the blood from stopping...

But, sadly, blood can’t piece broken glass back together…

The end.

[himboskywalker]

people on twitter it's so disrespectful and hateful with obikin shippers. they say it's gross and sick (amount other horrible things) and even knowing that the words aren't for me... they affect me and made me wonder if i'm wrong? if i'm a creep for liking the ship? i'm just so sad because i can't talk with anybody without they make fun of me or tell me i'm a monster:( i just wanna ship something in peace, i'm not affecting anyone and they would still treat me like garbage

I don’t normally like to complain on this blog because god knows there’s enough of that in the Star Wars fandom already but I’ve gotten enough asks similar to this that I suppose I should chime in with my opinion. *clears throat*

Man fuck Twitter.

I’m dead serious,if it gets to you—and I totally understand it getting to you because it’s a cesspool of hatred and intolerance and idiocy—then just dunk the whole ass thing in a trashcan. I have absolutely no room in my life for teenagers on the internet trying to tell me I’m a bad person for wanting fictional characters that aren’t real to kiss. Antis rank on the stupidity scale about as high as eating tide pods or licking ice cream in grocery stores. Like just don’t,nobody thinks you’re cool for doing it,nobody admires you and says oh wow this 16 year old on twitter who couldn’t pass a geography test and thinks they’re woke because they don’t actually know what pedophilia means is telling me to kill myself,I think I’ll listen to them.

Don’t let them get to you anon,chin up little duckling. I keep a twitter to follow artists and stay hooked up to Star Wars news and that is all. I think it’s a horribly toxic space for fandom and it’s a much harder platform to curate your space to your own needs compared to tumblr or old school messaging boards or discord. Tik Tok is getting to be the same way though it is far easier to curate your own space,although I keep getting roundhouse kicked by creators who I love who will make random videos being like,if you ship these *insert like 5 hated ships* you’re a piece of shit and unfollow me like????I’ve unfollowed a ton of big creators on there for that,and not just if they go off against Obikin. If I see anyone railing against a ship,even if it’s one I don’t like,I will instantly unfollow.

Like I completely get and respect you not shipping it but the common human courtesy is to stay in your goddamn lane and not attack people just because they like something you don’t like. I don’t give one iota if you think they’re just brothers,just don’t try and tell me I’m a bad person for seeing a romantic element to their relationship? Life is difficult and can be grueling and miserable and draining and exhausting and sometimes seems unbearable. There are days where the space I’ve wriggled in this fandom is the only thing I feel like I have going for me. Fandom and fanfiction and all of you lovely dears are my escapism from the flaming on fire garbage can that is reality right now. So I have zero room or tolerance for people being rude or hateful or snarky or passive aggressive over something that isn’t real. I just don’t,and I honestly recommend adopting the same attitude,it makes for a more peaceful existence. I understand not everyone is as forward or combative as I am. I have never in my life been the kind of person to take shit so I can say these things easily. But blocking or blocking tags or reporting is something you can do without feeling like you’re confronting someone,and it’s something I think is necessary if you want to stay sane on a platform like twitter.

The moral of the story is,avoid places like twitter for fandom if you can,or be me and follow like 10 people and block half the internet. I’m basically that old vine going *I won’t hesitate bitch!* I’m a grown adult with a life and lots of friends and family and hobbies and interests and I live a full and fulfilling existence and frankly I don’t waste a single braincell caring what people on the internet tell me. I don’t know what to offer you but to recommend adopting the same mindset. You’re not a bad person for shipping FAKE PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL WORLD. You’re not a creep,it’s utterly normal. But you know what isn’t normal? Telling strangers on the internet that they’re evil for liking fictional things and that they should kill themselves,that’s not normal or okay in any capacity. Curate your own space,don’t let the hateful goblins get you down,hunt people you love down on different platforms,join the discord if you’re lonely and want to talk Obikin,or create your own for a fun and tolerant space! And fucking dropkick the antis into another dimension because 2020 has been bad enough and honey I’m sorry but there’s no free seats for hatred in this house.

[radiowrites]

Peace

When Oliver approached the man's appearance from a researcher’s eye, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance.

A Ghost Hunt Fanfiction One Shot by RaisedonRadio. 1600 words, post-canon.

First published in the Ghost Hunt Zine “Familiar Keepsakes”. Check out @ghosthunthq for more GH fandom content!

Read on: AO3 / FF.net / Below the cut!

Oliver pulled at his shirt collar as he followed the nurse. Nursing homes were always too warm, and he should have mentioned that to Mai when she was picking out an outfit—or, better yet, dress himself occasionally. The long hallway was dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs overhead on their last leg without anyone who cared to change them. It made the pale green walls sickly. Disinfectant permeated the place, and he knew he would smell artificially clean when he left.

Despite the shortcomings of the place, the nurses were kind and had been awaiting his arrival. The nurse stopped in front of him and let him into a room.  She nodded to the woman sitting in the corner and to the propped up figure in one of the beds, and closed the door behind her. The far bed was empty. Judging by the energy of the room, Oliver assumed it had not been that way for long.

He nodded to the woman. She was black haired and in her late forties or early fifties. She inclined her head, and Oliver approached the figure in the bed.

The man there had his arms crossed, his thin lips set in an even thinner line. He stared at the far wall, resolute.

“Hello,” Oliver said, “Mr. Griffith.”

The man sniffed. Or scoffed. Whatever the sound was, it had no polite connotations.

“If you’re trying to sell me something,” Mr. Griffith said, “I ain’t got no money. And I’m not interested in converting to any religion, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I am not here for either of those things,” Oliver said. “Thank you Alice,” he added as he took a chair the woman offered, and sat down next to the bed. Mr. Griffith pulled back slightly, as if he wanted to put more distance between them.

“How do you know each other?” Mr Griffith said in a demanding tone.

“My wife met Alice on an online message board,” Oliver said. “She was doing some unrelated research, and came across this board meant for families seeking information on adopted out children.”

Alice had told Mai she was the youngest sister of the family, and very interested in her family tree, especially the gaps in her brother Jeffrey’s family.

This information dawned over Mr. Griffith’s face. “Busybody,” he muttered. “What you’d say your name was again?”

The man in front of him wasn’t exactly old, by today’s standards—early sixties, perhaps. But he was torn up inside by disease and guilt and anger. It was intriguing how often illness and emotions seemed to coincide.

The man’s hair was graying, but there was remnants of a rich brown. When Oliver approached Mr. Griffith’s appearance from a researcher’s eye, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance in the line of the jaw, the shape of the eyes, the assured frame and stature—if he wasn’t slumped in a bed.

Oliver hadn’t given his name, but he let it slide. “Oliver Davis. I’m not sure what you called me before my adoption.”

So many years had passed, it shouldn’t have been so easy to recall the man who had walked out on them multiple times. Oliver remembered how he had assumed his father would return that one last time, how he wouldn’t really just leave them with their mother’s body, would he?

Behind Oliver, Alice sniffed, and it was a sound of compassion, of someone holding back tears when she would have had no ability to help them at the time. She had barely been in her teens. And she hadn’t known, she had sobbed to Mai over the phone. Jeffrey had told his parents and siblings that his wife had ran away with the kids. It had been after his diagnosis last year he had confessed to his wife’s sudden death and him leaving two children behind. In today’s media, someone would have found him. Back then, it was easy to just disappear.

Alice had posted on the internet in both English and Japanese. She wasn’t fluent in the latter but did her best, wanting another angle because of her mother’s heritage, as well as Jeffrey’s late wife. She had a strained relationship with her brother, she had told Oliver. She hadn’t really known why she was seeking the information—to comfort, or to hurt?

Oliver had always assumed his birth father was dead. It had been a pleasant thought, devoid of emotional complications.

“So you’re here for an apology, is that it?” Mr. Griffith turned towards him. His eyes were clear, and hard. Oliver wondered if his own eyes looked like that.

“What good would that do me?” Oliver said. “I’m not the one on my death bed.”

Mr. Griffith went back to staring at the wall. “Your brother wasn’t interested in meeting me too before I die?”

For some reason, Oliver had expected Mr. Griffith to be better informed. Mai had told Alice about Eugene. But clearly, Alice had withheld the information of even his visit—perhaps she had been concerned the old man would try to escape than face his son. The overly familiar irritation of having to tell yet another stranger that his twin was dead returned. Despite the fact that Eugene had been dead longer than he had lived at this point, it didn’t get easier. Oliver didn’t want that look of pity and horror.

Which was worst for the old man? To think his other son didn’t care to see him? To know the truth? Oliver didn’t want to be directly responsible for a heart attack.

“Well?” Mr. Griffith pressed.

“Eugene was quick to anger—and quick to forgive,” Oliver said slowly. “He would have wanted to be here, but he left this world before you.”

Mr. Griffith went stiff, and Oliver found himself saying, “It was an accident, when he was sixteen—it didn’t happen when—”

“When I abandoned you two.” He grabbed Oliver’s hand, clasping both hands around it. Oliver flinched, but the man’s grip was strong.

“There hasn’t been a day,” Mr. Griffith said, ‘There hasn’t been an alcohol strong enough, a drug potent enough, or an activity numbing enough to drown it out. The memory. The guilt. Even if I had simply dropped you off at the orphanage myself, it would be have been better than that.” His voice was becoming hoarse, the exertion of emotion thickening his throat. “The guilt weighs on me, always.” His eyes shown with tears.

Mr. Griffith—his father— whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And Oliver knew. There was no lie, no attempt to alleviate his own conscience. His father meant it. Was I accept your apology too cold? You’re forgiven too haughty?

Mr. Griffith wasn’t looking for confirmation. He repeated, even softer, “I’m sorry,” as he released Oliver and pulled back his hands.

Oliver’s hand was left cold and numb.

“You mentioned a wife,” Mr. Griffith said, wiping his eyes. “You’re married then?”

Oliver sat there a moment to bring himself back to the present. As a child, he had believed you just quit being scared when you become an adult. As time went on, he had come to understand fear had probably caused his father to act in such a way. It wasn’t an excuse for the behavior. But it was a reason, something that no one had addressed, no one could address when issues were kept behind locked doors.

“Yes,” Oliver said. “With two kids.”

“Can you send Alice a picture?” Mr. Griffith attempted a smile. “I’d like…to see them. If that’s all right with you.”

“Would you prefer to meet them?”

“I don’t have much time left. There won’t be any traveling for me. It’s a nice thought though.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked—” Oliver leaned in, “—if you wanted to meet them.”

Mr. Griffith raised his eyebrows, and nodded.

Oliver heard Alice stand up and open the door. Oliver turned as Mai entered, flanked by their two young boys. They were not twins, but the couple of years between them was close enough that they were often mistaken for such.

They gazed around the room, eyes wide. Mai gave Oliver a soft smile.

Oliver turned back to his father, whose cheeks had become wet.

“Meet Mai, Noboru, and Katashi,” Oliver said. “Boys, this is your grandfather.”

“I’m the oldest,” Noboru announced as he bounced forward. His jet black hair and intense eyes made everyone say how much he looked like his father. But Oliver only saw Eugene when he looked at him.

Katashi clung to his mother’s jeans, his hair brown like Mai. Or his grandfather, Oliver had come to realize. With a little coaxing, Katashi released his grip and moved towards to the bed, staring at Mr. Griffith with a solemn gaze.

Noboru grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him even closer, and started chatting with his grandfather about his trip to the United States, which was here, and how he had a house in both Japan and England, and he could speak both languages, and could Mr. Griffith speak Japanese still?

Oliver vacated his chair for Katashi and stood next to Mai, who slipped her hand into his.

“I was starting to think it wasn’t going well,” she whispered to him as she squeezed his hand. “And you weren’t going to let us in.”

“I honestly didn’t know what to expect,” he said softly. “He’s a broken man.”

Holding his father’s hand had drained him, but he could feel the energy returning as Mai’s hand warmed his. He watched a real smile come over his father’s face at something the boys said. “But I’ve made my peace. Thank you.”

She leaned into him with a smile. “If I can stop one lonely man from becoming a lonely ghost, then I’ve done my job.”

[hands-dripping-ink]

Max Lightwood-Bane: Part 4

Soo...... I’m sure we all thought I won’t continue it. As y’all know, I am a huge procrastinator. Anyways, I decided to continue it since I recently met a friend online who’s spewing fanfic like there’s no tomorrow, and that fanfic got me hooked onto a fandom I didn’t even know anything about!

That is the power of fanfiction :3

If you haven’t read this fic yet, here are the first 3 parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Tag list: (will tag with reblog from now on)

Enjoy!

All colour drained from Auraline’s face. Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for possible escape routes. Max didn’t blame the poor girl, Mina’s smile was devious.

“Umm…” she began, but the doors to the training room burst open right then and Rafe was through them.

He was clearly surprised to find Mina there with them, as she breezily gave him a bear hug. “Rafe! Oh, how I’ve missed you all so much,” she said. Rafe’s ears turned pink. He didn’t like to be hugged, but Mina would definitely hug a hedgehog if she got the chance. Auraline looked relieved to have Mina’s attention off of her.

“What happened, Rafe?” Max asked. He was sceptical; Rafe had said he had some “business" to attend to, and had ran off. Rafael glanced around, probably to make sure no adult was around.

“Demon disturbance. Central Park. It’s a horde of them,” he said, his face showing more excitement than he cared to put in his voice. Mina also cooed in excitement, and Auraline was both relieved and excited that the attention was off her, and they would go demon hunting, respectively.

“Demons in the daylight?” Only Max had the momentary sense to ask. Rafe replied with his best smile, “Well, we always love a challenge, don’t we, little brother?”

---

There were about ten lesser demons lurking about near the Park. In the near-abandoned street, there was no way to sneak up on them stealthily, and no time to devise a proper strategy as the demons advanced on a scared couple, around Max’s age. He silently motioned to Rafe that he was going to attack, Rafe nodding back. Auraline held herself with sharp precision, her abilities allowing her an intriguing stillness and focus, even though she couldn’t be bothered to use it for her routine day. Mina was, as always, a blur of black as she jumped up and down in eagerness. Rafe was on a rooftop, an arrow nocked in the direction of one of the ugly blobs that were the demons.

Max’s daggers were instantly in his hands as he magicked a whip of air to distract the demons from the couple. It worked for a second before Max jumped out from the crook he was hiding in and flinged a dagger at the demon closest to him. Rafe shot two of them with arrows, and Auraline tore down three with her Seraph blade, Mina swinging her twin swords to hack apart the demon closest to the couple. They all disintegrated in a swirl of black ichor, covering the three shadowhunters on the ground. Five more demons still loomed at the end of the alley, looking uneasy as they approached the shadowhunters. The group finished them off, and Max glamoured the mundane couple, the two boys holding each other so tight as if to merge into one. When he was done, they seemed a little lost and confused, but happy to be in each other’s company as they couldn’t see the band of glamoured shadowhunters.

This was not good. That many demons in one day? Demons may seem like pesky cockroaches, striking at every opportunity to cause chaos, but they did not group together. No, this was something bigger. Auraline voiced his suspicions, “What do you think such a huge group of demons was doing here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many demons together.”

Rafe was, as far as Max knew, the only one of the four of them who had and remembered it.

“This wasn’t just some random demon attack. Demons don’t hunt in packs. There’s something more behind this,” Rafe said.

“Can we go to the institute first?” Mina sounded a little concerned. Max noticed the way she was holding her arm to her chest and—“By the Angel, Mina, let me look,” Max pried her arm away and saw a deep scratch running along the length of Mina’s forearm, black ichor and her own blood mixing together at the seam. She defiantly snatched it back, insisting it wasn’t as bad as it looked. But it did look pretty bad, and even after two iratzes and the use of Max’s healing magic, it still didn’t look much better than it had. After much more protesting on Mina’s part, Max stopped fussing and the group made their way out of the alley.

[renchan7]

Five Things About Me

Hiya everyone! @earlgreymon tagged me out from fandom slumber. I really should start working on my WIPs again 👀

Tagging @nikanaka @florencetheflowerfairy and anyone else that's reading and wants to join! :)

I've always considered myself an extroverted introvert. (Yes, we exist! Shout-out to all the closet extroverted introverts out there!) Anyone I meet in person I'm shy at first, but force that bright smile. If that person somehow makes it into my small circle of trusted friends I'm the life of the party. Then I get home and I'm emotionally drained and need a day or two to emotionally recuperate. It's a beautiful, vicious cycle and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I'm a huge romantic. (If it wasn't obvious from most of my fanfics 😇. Go check them out Here, Here, and Here.) Say the right words, real life or anime, and I'm already swooning with heart eyes. Good thing my hubby put a ring on it 😁.

My movie husband is Ryan Reynolds. Tv husband is Jensen Ackles. Music husband is Ed Sheeran (His voice is dreamy. Read This or This to see an actual conversation that happened with my hubby and I about Ed Sheeran that I turned into a Sorato drabble.)

I love the guitar. My grandfather gave me an acoustic and I've cherished it since. Sometimes I'll even serenade my hubby with it. 🥰 Taught myself how to play by ear too.

When I was first introduced into the world of fanfiction it helped me get through a very tough time in my life. I then wrote my very first AU self-insert longfic who also developed a romantic interests with one of the main characters. I took it down years later because as much as I can help it, it'll never see the light of day again 😅. I admit, it helped me escape real life when I needed it. To this day I'm a huge advocate for fanfiction no matter what the subject or reasoning. Fanfiction is for the fans. We that said, please be kind to us writer (unless we ask for concrit). We may be going through something and what you're reading could be our outlet.

[baseballbitch116]

Sweetheart - part 6

He continues absentmindedly poking the skin on the ground, thinking of Y/N, hoping that she made it out of there. He tried so hard to find her, he stayed as long as he could. The place was falling down before his eyes, towers crashing to the ground with the fences and parts of the building. He couldn’t find anyone, it was a horrible mess. He could only manage to get Beth out of there. Daryl was hoping that you were on the bus and had escaped, that you were with Rick and Carl. More than anything, he wished he was with you guys. He felt all alone again, like he was going to lose himself. Thankfully he had Beth, even if he wasn’t close to her, because he couldn’t bare to be all alone right now.

His eyes leave the guts of his kill, wandering up the trees and landing on the stars. He remembers the couple of nights that he spent outside talking to Y/N after everyone had gone to bed. A sigh escapes his lips as he feels heart aching again, missing all of people he had come to care for. He watches the sky, wondering if you were out there, and if he would ever see you again…

---

* Takes place in season 4 episode 16/season 5 episode 1

** Does not entirely follow the plot of the episode, I put my own spin on a few scenes

Word Count: 1185

Warnings: Violence, angst

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

Prompt List | Submit A Request

The trip to get to Terminus took a few days, and you were in no rush, to be honest. You were afraid that you were going to get there and it will have been overrun, or that nobody else will go there. You are too afraid to let yourself have any sort of hope, the one thing that Maggie is clinging to. You know that Daryl is a strong ass man, and so are many of your friends, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll get lucky enough for them to stumble across the signs.

You absentmindedly followed the three of them wherever they went, not caring much for anything. You guys haven’t been eating much, only some berries here and there or one tiny rabbit that had to be split between four people. You couldn’t find a whole lot of drinkable water either, so you were very low on energy, just trudging on.

When you finally arrived to Terminus, everything went downhill. They took you guys hostage and locked you away in a train cart. You were in there for two days straight, and both nights, men came in and tried to take you women, but you put up a hell of a fight. The four of you managed to keep them from succeeding, but you didn’t think it would last much longer. You needed to find a way to escape.

And then the day came that they took you all out. You couldn’t manage to fight them all off, heavily outnumbered. They tied and blind folded you up, leading you guys into a room. When your blindfolds were removed, you were kneeling in front of a drain-pipe sort of thing, multiple men surrounding you guys. They discussed something in hushed voices, then all of them left except for two. One aimed a gun at you guys, and the other held a bat, standing behind you’s. And just when you thought it was all over, and the man started to swing the bat toward Bob... A huge explosion shook the building, stopping everyone in their place.

You took that as your opportunity and quickly threw yourself on top of the man with the gun, stomping on his head until he no longer moved. Maggie and Sasha took out the other man with the bat, and after a little struggle, you managed to use their knife to free yourself, then the others. The four of you ran out of there, shooting down men as you went, shocked when you heard other firing as well. The place was being attacked.

The four of you managed to escape the complex before it became too overrun with walkers, and you watched from the woods as you saw people running around, some getting shot down, some doing the shooting. And then you saw it...

A woman with dreads wielding a katana. “Michonne!” You exclaimed, pointing toward the courtyard where she was taking down walkers and men. The four of you begin making your way back down toward them, trying to catch up to where they were heading out of the fence. You ran after them as fast as your weak legs would allow you, desperate to reunite with your friends, praying that Daryl was with them. 

Sasha and Maggie managed to get to them first, you trailing behind about a minute later - and that was it. You froze where you stood, out of breath, and stared in shock, face to face with everyone you loved. Maggie ran into Glenn’s arms sobbing, Michonne hugged Sasha... And you stared at Daryl. He stared right back, an expression as if he’d seen a ghost. Your eyes burn with tears as your vision blurs. You start taking steps toward him, and to your surprise, he runs at you and throws his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off the ground a little as he embraces you. You hug him tighter than you’ve ever hugged someone, fearing if you let go that you would lose him.

Tears dripped down your face as you hid your face in his chest, the smell of him bringing a wave of comfort over your exhausted body. No words were spoken, none needed to be. He pulled away for a moment, looking at you like a heartbroken child, and catches you off guard again, leaning his face on your shoulder, his arms hanging limp at your sides, and a small quiet sob escapes his lips. You rub his back and hold him, your heart breaking and swelling at the unashamed affection he is showing.

Eventually, he steps back and you laugh sadly at him, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek lovingly, and he smiles sadly. He takes another step back to allow Michonne to hug you and everyone else to reunite together. And then after everyone is out of shock, you agree that you need to get out of there before a hoarde of walkers invade the place. The group starts heading into the woods, and you don’t leave Daryl’s side even for a moment. He surprises you yet again when he interlocks his fingers with your’s and hold’s your hand, giving you a shy sad look as you walk beside him. You smile and bring his hand up to your mouth, giving it a kiss. You catch him blushing as he tries to hide his embarrassment and you let out a little laugh, following him and the others through the woods, your heart feeling whole again.

---

Being on the road again was tough on you all, but you were stronger together. For the entire first day, you didn’t stray more than five feet from Daryl. He constantly checked over his shoulder to look at you, and when you would get more than a few feet behind him, he would stop and wait for you to get beside him, walking slower to stay beside you. It warmed you heart how much he was showing you he cared, nothing else in the world compared.

When nighttime came, you guys gathered in the road, some of the new people making a fire that everyone sat around. Daryl and Rick did a little perimeter walk for a few minutes, making sure nothing was around, then rejoined you guys. Daryl sat right beside you, bringing his legs up and resting his elbows on his knees. You rested your head on his shoulder as you stared into the fire, a much different feeling now than you had been feeling just a few nights ago. You couldn’t ask for anything more - you had your family back.

Daryl interrupted your thoughts by taking your hand from your lap and holding it in his own, toying with your fingertips, sending shivers up your arms. He looks at you as he does so, a neutral expression on his face, but you can tell how content he is. You place a small kiss on his bare bicep, leaning your head on his arm once more and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to feel hope once again, something that only Daryl was able to make you feel.

---

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[fuzziekins]

i usually don’t post about my own work because i never think much of it. Even now i feel conflicted about sharing this because i have my own personal and intrusive feelings involving this story. But part of me feels like it should still be shared on some level because it’s not just about working as a cashier, but working as a cashier in the middle of a pandemic. Even though the characters are fictional, the retail stories they go through are very real, directly taken from the ones i have experienced as a cashier. If anyone else does read this, if there’s remotely anyone can possibly take away from this story at any point at all with it, it’s to just please think. Think before you snap at a retail worker. Think before you cause a scene. Think before you do something, like leaving a yogurt by the potato chips. Think before you complain or ask about every little thing. We see and deal with a lot of crap on the job all while dealing with our own crap. It’s hard and sometimes it can be downright abusive. But we try. We do our jobs. And it’s a lot. So please try with us, too. [More under the cut, but it’s primarily personal and also A LOT.]

Frozen 2 has absolutely been the thing helping me through this pandemic. When my store closed early for limited hours i’d be playing the soundtrack on Spotify. Before eventually falling asleep after shifts ending at midnight i’d always listen to a Frozen song on my iPod because after crazy shifts, crazier than usual retail stories, and a hell of a lot of food to either put back on the shelves or discard completely, Frozen helped put me in a slightly better mood before falling asleep. In a time of so much confusion and fear and uncertainty, it’s difficult to find the positivity in everything. Even though i do try to go into work and leave my problems at the door, the Frozen franchise was definitely a light for me. It helped to imagine some of the characters - even other Disney characters like i included in the story - go through similar things i was and wonder how they would handle everything. It started with just a thought: would Elsa sing if she was working this job, too? Would anyone actually hear her? And cue the slow burn between Elsa and Honeymaren. But it’s more than just that.

i am so fortunate to have a great relationship with a lot of my coworkers. We get along; we ask each other how we’re doing; we make conversation when it’s slow; we talk about our lives. It helped me to just be able to go through this with these people. It helped that, yeah i was still getting out even during quarantine and seeing these same people WAY more than usual (and it was already a lot!), but for us to just all have this understanding of each other and for us to be able to support each other. And that was something i wanted to focus on here. A positive working relationship between Elsa, Maren, Nani, Snow (White), and (Cinder)Ella. These very different people being thrown together a hell of a lot more than usual and spending more time together and in their store than with their own families in their own homes. Yeah, they can get on each others’ nerves sometimes. They can drive each other crazy. But they’re ultimately there for and support each other. And i know every job, retail or not, can’t be like that. But sometimes we do spend so much time at work that it not only becomes home but the people we work with become a family. (Although a very dysfunctional one!) That’s something that’s been essential to me as an essential worker and a small piece of the inspiration behind the story.

To have been writing this throughout the pandemic, drawing from my own experiences and stories as a cashier, seeing peoples’ reactions and to have been given the encouragement and support by them has just been mind blowing. i say that i started this as a joke, because i deal with so many unbelievable stories on a daily basis at work that i should really write a retail story. And...this is it. For people to have told me that this helped them with something in the store (chip malfunctions at the pin pad, anyone?) or to see how horrible some customers can actually be, to just read peoples’ reactions at the cruelty of others, while others to their customer service jobs of the past and bringing back memories for them? i did not expect the support, comfort, or acceptance that i received from this. And i did not expect people to just so readily accept the story as a legit Frozen fanfiction.

What blew my mind even more, in the best possible way, was the reaction to how i wrote Elsa. [Minor spoiler here, but not really because it is a tag.] i know this is not the first story to write her as asexual. i know it won’t be the last. And how many of us read Elsa as a queer icon in general? Writing Elsa’s coming out scene to one of her coworkers as an asexual lesbian was directly inspired by an instance where i came out as asexual to one of my coworkers. It was one of the first chapters i wrote long before i knew anything about this story; where it was going to go; how exactly i would write it; or anything that would happen. i just knew that if i was going to write a retail story, that specific story had to be a part of it. To read the reactions of other a-specs reading this and see how seen and represented and validated they feel, to know that while Elsa’s journey may not exactly be theirs nor is it my own there’s still so much relatability, to have the reminder that as many times as i feel like i’m the only ace person i know (even though that was not totally true and it’s absolutely not true now) there are other people out there and that a lot of the things i touched on in the narrative hit so close to home for them.... It’s just been an honor. And that’s something that, when i question what the hell i’m doing or my capabilities as a writer/creative person, i try to think about that. And remind myself that this was something i was able to do and it means so much to the a-specs who read it. And it was something that made me feel apart of something really special; not just the queer community, but also the Frozen fandom.

i have a lot of conflicted feelings with finally finishing this story. And i think a lot of them are because as i finished writing this while also going through multiple edits and rewrites, i was dealing with things in my personal life that took my head out of the story. And while dealing with the craziness at work as usual around Thanksgiving that was only heightened by the still-confusion and uncertainty of the pandemic, though it should have given me so much more material to one day work with, it really just drained me. And part of me still doesn’t feel like i even wrote something worthwhile, let alone something good. i deal with self-confidence issues and intrusive thoughts along with semi-newly-discovered anxiety; and those have no doubt played a part in my own comments on the story as well as some extra self-projection (as if there wasn’t enough of that between the job, the customer stories, and the chocolate addiction but that’s besides the point). But i’m still trying to remind myself of the good that has come from this story. And i want the good of what everyone else has seen in this to far overpower whatever i think about it. As much as a major takeaway i’d like for the story to be to have a better understanding of retail workers, what we’re going through at work and potentially in our lives, and to just think, there are two other things i’d like to stay with people. •In regards to, yes, primarily a-specs, but also to the queer community in general, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re not broken. It takes a lot of time, patience, and understanding to accept yourself. And that’s ok. You will find the label(s) and meanings that work for you. Everyone relates to their orientation differently; but there’s no wrong way. Sometimes it’s hella hard to accept that part of you, regardless of what it is. Unfortunately, yes, there will be people that don’t believe you. But there are also people around you who will accept and love you exactly for who you are. They do it with Elsa in this story; people in real life can do it, too. It just takes a while to find them. You mean something to people and you are absolutely worth it. •One of the best things about creating anything is to take people away. To distract them from the real world for a while. To make them forget about their problems. To make them feel something. To see things through another’s eyes. To experience something. To give them something to enjoy. For all the craziness that i may call my story, it’s still something that’s brought people so much joy. To give them that happiness, to make them feel, to take them away to another world (even if it’s just a fictional modern AU with a couple of useless lesbians/bis/queers). That’s what i want this story to do. That’s what, selfishly, i’d want anything i could ever create to do. No matter what i think, it’s the people who enjoy it that matter. And they are absolutely the motivation behind all of this.

This story has been my outlet through this entire mess of the world. It’s been my outlet, a soapboax, and an escape. Because seeing Frozen 2 just before the pandemic hit, becoming so lost in it, loving so much about the story and the characters and the world, gave me more inspiration to be creative when it’s something i’ve personally struggled on and off with for the past five years. Being immersed in the world of the Frozen franchise is the closest i’ve felt to being happy in years. And i’m so thankful to Disney and the creators of Frozen, Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck, for giving us so much to work with. From the world itself to the relatable characters in Elsa and Anna to the friendships they created to just the pure inspiration that comes from them. And how they can make so many people from so far away feel so close together. And i’m more than grateful to everyone who’s read this story from the beginning, who saw something in it - who saw something in me - and have been the motivation to keep going with it. It’s been absolutely incredible to write for everyone and i hope i get to write more. Please consider this my way of saying thank you to everyone and know how much all of this has meant to me. And thank you so, so much for reading.

[elejahfanfic]

The Vampire Files/6

Fanfiction

Part 6

AU story with tvd/to characters, but also with many others from different fandoms like Nick Amaro _Law&Order svu, that I am borrowing here. And Joel Goran from Saving Hope etc.

Main pairing_ Nick Amaro and Elena Gilbert

Nick and Elena are FBI Agents investigating supernatural activities and homocide caused vampires and demons.

Expect witches, demons, vampires. Inspired by X-files, Twin Peaks, and many other shows

✺◟(❛‿❛)◞✺

tag_ @miguelsbrat​ ٩( ^ᴗ^)۶☀🌴🌴💮🍹

(❁˘▽˘) thank you for reading xoxo

**************************

New Orleans

"Special Agent Dean Stavros" the man introduced himself to Elena and Nick

"The body?" Elena said.

"Right. Follow me. Bossy much?" Dean looked at Nick.

"Sugar deficiency. I hope you know some good beignet joint?" Nick replied.

Elena was going through her tablet already crossreferencing the files she had on local myths and legends. You drive" she said to Nick as she got in the SUV on the passenger side.

Strangely Nick didn't mind the way she would just be so forward with him in a way like they had been working together forever and it was the way they rolled.

"Have you crossed all the ts?" Nick asked as she put the tablet down looking out of the window.

"All of them were killed in sacred woods" Elena replied still gazing out of the window.

"Ritual killing?"

"I don't know yet. Anyway, remember the stuff you got about that Aztec Sun & Moon ritual Vicky Donovan wrote in her diary?!"

"The Supermoon eclipse?"

"Yeah-" Elena muttered pensively.

"Where are you going with this? Nick inquired.

"I've just read about a local legend of the Loogaroo vampire. The name is a blending Loup Garou and the Obayifo".

"I know. Obayifo- vampiric witch." Nick said.

"Oh, you really have been doing your homework" Elena was impressed.

"The month you were recuperating I used to catch up on all your docu on vampires"

"Right" she  shot a I'm really impressed, "Loogaroo as a term conceals a cipher of the words Ura Ghul, or devourer of hearts, which echos the thing that Davina Claire's heart being cut out could have something to do with it"

"But what has sun and the moon myth got to do with it all then?"

"Oh, it's about- well, maybe raising the Loogaroo, sun and the moon eclipse is necessary to bring forth this creature -something to do with mixing the dark and the light magic. It's about traditions of Voudon, which are about the light and dark. A fusion of African and European magical practices This is all a stretch, but I am trying to prove that all those women drained of blood have a much darker connection. Oh, the Loogaroo has a werewolf aspect as well. There is another legend that says, In the other legend the Loogaroo is a sorcerer who makes a pact with the "devil" and thence is able to leave there body to feed as a vampire.  In Voudon the Loogaroo is linked to the Loa Legba in his Kalfu aspect and in Santeria to Eshu both of whom are symbolized by the image of the devil. Some claim the Loogaroo is a name for a type of werewolf due to the wolfish aspect of the Zulo of this type of Strega but Strigoi have often taken such shapes as it is the "witch" shape of its locality."

"Now you gave us lots of food for thought" Nick said as he stopped the car as they had arrived at the morgue.

"Don't mention food. I am seriously hungry."

"You had that double burger before we left the hotel this morning" Nick remarked.

"I should have had two" Elena twitched with her lips, regretting not ordering another one to take.

Agent Stavros now came up to them thinking that he had never met a quirky type like Elena and Nick.

"Here we go" he said and kind of waved the hand to follow him.

Inside, Elena took over with examining the body of Davina Claire. Outside the room Dean answered some additional questions about the witch.

"This is New Orleans. Nearly one in five crimes have a shadow of witchcraft, voodoo attached to it" Dean said

"Yes, but she worked in a magic shop," Nick said,"which I suppose was just a shop selling trinkets and oinments and stupid potions"

"You think we don't take this stuff seriously? The girl's heart was torn out. Dark magic is powerful stuff- I know it" Dean said.

"You do?"

"Unfortunatelly. Anyway, our CSI team is really good. Why is she examining the body herself" Dean replied.

"Because she sees stuff noone does" Nick said.

"I heard so much about her, but I have never imagined her being so - " Dean paused as words escaped him.

"Different?" Nick tilted his head in interest.

"Yeah, different! Creepy Elena" 

Dean’s phone rang and he excused himself for a moment.

Elena got out and said that they could go. She had all the info she needed.

"I have to go. I will see you tomorrow. And the place to smash yourself with sweet stuff Royale St. Mention my name and you will get the best beignets"-

"Right. See you tomorrow. Thanks." Elena said.

Dean hurried away and the two agents did the same.

On the way to the cafe Kol had suggested, Elena shared her findings with him.

"So, this is another vampire?" Nick asked.

"No, this was not a vampre bite. Werewolf."

"So, the Loogaroo?" Nick concluded.

"No. I don't know. It can't be. The other victims didn't have their hearts torn out"- Elena said looking out of the window.

"Are you all right?" Nick said worryingly.

"Yes, why?"

"This is the second time you have that absent-minded look swaying into whatever you see out there." Nick explained.

"I am fine. Just - loads of thoughts. Way too many and that is why I need sugar."

"There- Royale St" Nick said and soon parked up near the cafe.

"You know NOLA pretty well, ha?" Elena said as they got out of the car.

"Of course, you know I lived here as a teenager, till we moved to D.C. And Camille is from NOLA!”

"True. Slipped my mind about her." Elena said.

They entered the cafe and it was all about the beignets, the sweet potatoe pie. Even Nick had some and they talked about New Orleans, as they both were very fond of the place as it turned out.

"It was like an escape for my aunt Jenna and me. New York is amazing, but New Orleans was like entering another time and space" Elena said.

And there was this flicker in her eyes that opened a window into her soul.

"I see where you get your toughness from. Jenna doesn't take any hostages.” Nick said.

"She is great" Elena said and the tine of voice indicated that she didn't want to go further into discussing family.

Flashback

"You promise me that you will have Elena's back!" Jenna said to Nick that first night in the hospital as she found him standing on his own outside the hospital building.

"You have my world" Nick said.

"I want it in blood. Ok. Sorry. I get carried away. She is the only family I got left. And- she will be eatching yours, even more so, as she lost her partner"

"Now you are slipping away" Elena caught Nick lost in his thoughts.

"It's the weather here"

"What hotel have we got?" Elena asked.

"The Old 77"

"View on the Mississipi. Great. Luke really knows what to pick"

"I thought you didn't care about these things" Nick teased, curling a cute smile at her.

"I can sleep anywhere, but in a place like this a moment of something amazing, like the Mississipi." Elena said taking a bite of her sweet potatoe pie.

They stayed a little while longer and then went to the hotel.

New Orleans was a place that never sleeps, same as one other great city. And the night life was just about to start, and unlike Elena, Elijah would go out for drinks with his friends, although it was only Camille, Gia and Vincent.

And so he knocked at her door.

Elena opened it with a question mark in her eyes-"Something happened?"

"No. I was going out for a drink- wanna come?"

"Drink? Ahm, I was going to - go talk to Davina's cousin."

"Don't we have that scheduled for tomorrow after we scour the Magic Shop!?"

"We do." Elena stood there as if she was caught red-handed. Then she turned around and took her phone and hotel card. "One drink"

Nick then stopped for a second. By the expression of his face, she could tell that he was not happy. "You've just lied to my face. You were going to the Bayou on your own, weren't you? Weren't you??" 

Elena stood in the hallway as condemned. It was true. And whatever she now said would not matter.

"I don't know what the fucking deal is with you but I am not a side thing- an assistant doing research-"

"No, you're not. But I can't risk you going with me"

"What are you talking about? You can't risk what exactly?"

"I can't risk you getting killed" Elena then said.

"Who got shot a while ago?!! It was you if I remember correctly." Nick looked at her puzzled.

"I can't let the same thing happen to you like it happened to Jackson."

"Why do you think anything will happen to me?" Nick looked at her wide-eyed.

"When I was shot that night- if you were with me they would have shot you too."

"Who is they, Elena?” Nick wanted answers.

She was in a check-mate position. She turned around and went to her room. Nick followed her in.

"It's about time you start speaking."

Elena sighed a little and then looked at him seriously, "The vampire that killed Lexi Branson."

"Yes-"

"I killed it,” Elena said,"I went to the woods and - I killed it."

"What? Are you saying - you killed IT?!"

Elena was silent for a second and exclaimed agitated "I killed IT!"

Nic's head was spinning and he didn't know whether he had just entered a bad dream.                 

"I killed IT. That is what I do" Elena said again.

Elijah turned around and left the room.

"Amaro!" Elena shouted following him out.

Elena stood still as she got out of the room looking right and then left, "Amaro!” She now ran down the hall, all in frenzy, but there was not a shadow of her partner to be seen.

"No, this can't be happening. Not again" she took her phone and pressed the speedial for Nick’s number. There was no answer. It went straight to voice mail. She left no message, but went into the crowd. Into the night.

Flashback

Years back

Elena and Dale Cooper got out of the car as they got near the woods, a few miles out of Twin Peaks.

"Smell the air"- Cooper said to the young Agent.

Elena did. The pine trees had a very potent smell to them. She knew this was yet another most unusual exercise in the supernatural.

"It is a beautiful day, isn't it?!" he said rethorically.

Elena could not disagree. The sun was shinning, the birds were singing a greeting to the spring. All was very enchanting, except for one thing, a girl wrapped up in plastic bag found in the woods two days previously.

Another car pulled up.  Cooper greeted the Sheriff introducing him to Elena.

"This is a very good man, one of the best," Cooper said shaking the Sheriff's hand,"Harry, this is Agent Gilbert, Bureau's bright new star"

Elena shook the Sheriff's hand as well.

"Here we are again. Everything was peaceful for fifteen years" the Sheriff said.

"But, the case compared to Laura Palmer shows something completely different."

"There is so much more in these woods than evil ghosts,” Cooper said,"we will examine the body after we finish here. I hope the diner still serves good coffee?!"

"It does," the Sheriff confirmed,"you might like the new pie they are serving"

Cooper smiled a little and then they all went into the woods.

Elena came up to the house in the French Quarter she had been at a while ago.

The woman opened it and looked at Elena uttering, "Angel Heart?!"

Elena had no time for pleaseantries and walked right passed the woman. She stormed in the study, where a man in his fifties put a book on a shelf with his back still turned saying, "What can I do for you?"

"What have you done with my partner?" Elena shot sternly trying to steady herself.

The hybrid turned around facing her now,"Why would you assume that I have anything to do with your new partner?"

"Let's not continue with the bullshit. You think that I didn't see your shadows lurking about," Elena continued,"you would do anything to stop the investigation. So, just spill!"

"I have nothing to do with Davina Claire's demise. I honour my agreement with the Bureau. You know this city, shinning from the outside, rotten from the inside" Lucien said putting a little smirk on.

Elena laughed. And she stood there not budging. And the hybrid, part werewolf, part warlock, just glared at her. There was nothing he could do to her and vice versa. But Elena knew he would have information, but she also knew he would be intertwined in a huge web of deals to insure his survival in this city of magic.

"You know that always get to the truth, and I don't keep to the agreement, because I know what you are like' Elena said in a tone that sounded like an ominous promise.

"I know, Angel Heart" Lucien said with a grim face.

"Later" Elena stormed out of the room. She got what she came for. His glare stated that Nick was indeed taken.

"Damn, where are you, Amaro?" she muttered, her mind racing zillion times over trying to figure who would take her partner.

Flashback Twin Peaks , years ago

In the woods

"The evil resides in many forms," Cooper said to Elena,"you know it so very well. I don't have to tell you that. But I will still share with you my wisdom."

Elena couldn't wait to hear what he would come out with.

Cooper took a sip of the coffee from the thermos indulging in it for a second and then said, "Take it by the horns! And face it straight on!"

This was one of so many quirky things she kept in her head as golden rule.

****

And where was Nick?

Deep in the Bayou, in a cabin, away from the world, with a bite wound on his neck half conscious, not understanding what was going on.

He could hear voices as if they were coming from the distance, but two men were standing right next to him.

"Let's kill him now," one man said,"I don't care about what she said."

"Not until the ritual. No one will find him here" the other man said. 

Nick tried to call out, but his head went fuzzy and now he closed his eyes, breathing heavy.

_to be continued