#but the writers dared to write you as having doubts over your involvment in this war?

[randomnameless]

IS and KT managing to make Edelgard the biggest Mary Sue in a verse where Byleth exists is still morbidly impressive to me lol

I wouldn't say Supreme Leader is a Mary Sue - depending on what you mean by being a Mary Sue, anon.

If you're talking about the 2000s usual critic thrown at fanfiction characters... well, you have Supreme Leader's depiction in the Aeneid that could fit this trope!

But in general...

Yep, that's what makes the Fodlan series so... weird ? Empty? As consistent as a cloud?

FE16 wise, characters (bar a few ones who are generally loved !) can piss on their background/convictions/ties/preexisting character to join Billy's side because Billy is awesome. No matter how hard people try to headcanon about it, Felix will join the GD and later Claude's army in VW because Billy had a kickass rank in swordfighting : Felix will ditch his childhood friends and leave his people to fend for themselves because Billy knows how to swordfight.

Remove Billy's player avatar powers, and suddenly, some characters cannot switch sides - in return they gain a much stronger characterisation and development (the BL peeps in Nopes!).

What makes the Fodlan verse so unique isn't Billy being at the forefront of player pandering, no, Fodlan verse will hammer instead the "waifu pandering". Sure, waifu is supposed to be your avatar's luf interest and the character you will spend thousands of dollars/euros/pick your currency for - but instead of pushing player pandering to 11, Fodlan verse instead pushes waifu pandering.

Supreme Leader cannot ever be challenged, whatever she does, people will praise her later on - or if we really have to fight her, it will not be willingly but the cast will be forced by circumstances (don't ask who created them!) and lament how they couldn't "walk with her uwu".

It culminates, imo, with SS S Support Rhea wondering if the War was her fault, and no one putting the blame on the character who declared said war on premises we learn, through the game, to be wrong. It's as if Rhea wonders if being tortured for 5 years I mean, having to dance Zumba for 5 years in Enbarr's dungeons, thousands of dead people, the monastery and its people being destroyed, Faerghus falling to anarchy, Adrestian made Demonic Beasts and Supreme Leader's beliefs that nonhumans should never have powers over humans because their ears aren't round is, well, her fault.

"See, Supreme Leader did nothing wrong, Rhea herself says she was responsible for her own torture zumba session!"

And FE16 being FE16... There is no "of course not".

To preserve Supreme Leader's selling points, those games amp up to unseen before in this franchise levels of victim blaming that seriously - regardless of real life world events - made a lot of people, myself included, uncomfortable.

So while I wouldn't say Supreme Leader is a 2000s Mary Sue, the writing around her feels somehow more gratting than what a fanfiction writer could have wrote in the 2000s for fun.

I mean, people were paid to write "if people don't want to die maybe they should just let me roll over them"!

That's way worse.

[allforhee]

*ੈ✩ — 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (TEASER) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secgen!lee heeseung x journalist!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — high school au, secgen!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, rivals in public but lovers in secret

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms, cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung makes fun of the reader a LOT, reader is feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, huh yunjin, and jang wonyoung

୨୧ word count — tbd

୨୧ release date — tba

୨୧ author's note — my baby! i love muns and as a press girlie myself, i had to make an mun-themed fic for my boy. mind you that i don't really understand the ACTUAL muns (unsc, who, etc.) cause i highkey don't want to get involved i just like writing!! this teaser is kind of short and sweet cause i know that the actual fic will be LONGER! so excited for you guys to read my works and what my imagination has to offer!!!!!!! enjoy this lil teaser. press 4 fanfic writers arise!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies that stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against him. whenever it was, whether it was moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

it was no doubt that no one has ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general. and those who chose to go against him either get crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with a simple, "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

back to my masterlist?

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄, est. 2024 | do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platforms.

[abovethemists]

Twenty questions for fic writers

Tagged by @saxgoddess25

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

85

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

944,230

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Once Upon A Time, SGU (but just Rush)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Purgatory (910)

Little White Lie (594)

The Future's So Bright (576)

No Two Hearts (556)

A Twist in Time (501)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to. I used to not because I felt weird about it, like I was trying to repost my fic constantly by responding to everything (on tumblr). But then I thought about how I like to get a response from an author when I comment on something and got over myself.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't do angsty endings really. I like angst with a happy ending. If nothing else, my fics all end hopefully. I think. I might be forgetting something.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean they pretty much all end with my babies happy and together so all of them.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really hate specific to my fics. I have on occasion had a comment from someone who just hates Rumbelle but that hasn't happened in a long time. Ship wars were weird.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yes. It's expected in the Rumbelle fandom. It's not my favorite thing to write though. I have trouble just writing pure smut. I need there to be backstory and feelings involved. I do emotional smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I write Anyelle, so yes. Pairing up Rush and Lacey was pretty crazy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Rumbelle!

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have every intention of finishing everything I've ever started. It might take a decade, but I'll do it eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action. Kill me if I ever had to block out a sword fight. It's why smut is hard. I get caught up in where everyone's limbs are.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I only speak one language fluently and wouldn't dare bastardize another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. Waaaaaaay back when. Also Jane Austen. Not sure which I wrote first.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm always partial to my Rush/Lacey stuff. My favorite Rumbelle fic is probably A Sharp and Glorious Thorn, if I ever get it finished. It's exactly my type of angst.

Tagging @kelyon, @emospritelet, @phoenixwrites, @gingerdreams15 and anyone else who wants to do it.

[invisibleraven]

20 questions writer meme!

I wa tagged by my beloved @bananakarenina <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? In total across 5 fandoms, 124, 84 of those are JatP, and 5 of those are prompt fill compilations.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 1,674,136 uploaded as of right now, and I know that over 1 million of those words are JatP.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently just Julie and the Phantoms, but in past I wrote primarily for Glee/Glee RPF, and Teen Titans. There's no other fandom really interesting me enough to write for it at moment.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm going to limit this to my JatP fics, but if you wanna check out my stories in my previous fandoms, well here's my AO3

And giving yourself to me can never be wrong my collection of smut prompt fills with 235 kudos

I Know Who I Want To Take Me Home the first installment of my Semisonic Sunset verse with 192 kudos

But came the dawn the show goes on (and I don't want to say goodnight) my PeterPatterLina soulmate AU with 169 kudos

Maybe this news can wait Part three (and the only non smutty part) of Semisonic Sunset with 124 kudos

Better walk the line my single dad Reggie PeterPatter fic with 124 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Honestly no I don't. I tried, once upon a time, but I just felt like no one really cared what I had to say, and then I didn't have the spoons for it, so I stopped. I know I should though, my brain just doesn't seem to like letting me.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hands down it is Haunted by the moments of what we used to be because every comment I got on it was some variation of how very dare you.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Generally I try to give all of my stories a happy ending, but for this one, I'll go with Yellow Wood  because it gave everyone a happy ending, no matter the path taken.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Currently no, but when the blacklist was a thing that happened, my name was second on there, so that kind of sucked.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Out of my 84 JatP fics, 24 are rated E, and my smut prompt fills are currently sitting at 80 something chapters, so you tell me. In honesty, I don't write smut as much anymore, as I find it a little more difficult to write and the response to anything rated above a T is vastly lower than anything else. But when I started in this fandom, it was what I was known for; see my point regarding the black list.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I actually kind of hate crossovers? If I'm looking for a fic to read on AO3, I always click the Exclude Crossovers choice. I'll write any and every AU I can, and I might add minor characters from said AU, but that's rare, and that's as close as I get.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Unfortunately yes. There was a person on WattPad who went and stole a bunch of different smutty JatP fics over a year ago, and one of mine was amongst them. They were reported, and the fic was taken down. This is why now my fics on AO3 are only available to registered AO3 users.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but if anyone ever wants to do a translation or podfic of any of my stories, they have my permission as long as they credit me and send me a link afterwards!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and no one has ever asked. It's something I'd love to try if the chance ever came along, and had the right idea.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I mean I can't pick just one, I've been involved in fandoms since I was a teenager. Like for Teen Titans Raven/Beast Boy will always own a piece of my soul. In Glee, Kurt/Blaine was such a formative part of my life. And even with Jatp I don't think I could choose between Rulie and PeterPatterLina, they both mean so much to me. And those are just the fandoms I've written for!

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? *looks at my GDocs which is a WiP graveyard* Oh gosh there's so many.

16. What are your writing strengths? My brain is not being kind to me ATM, so I don't think I have any? Like maybe how much I write? Does that count?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Everything. Editing especially.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I have done this quite a bit, even if it's just plugging what I want to say into Google Translate. So I know it's not entirely accurate, but I think I have been getting better about it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The first fic I ever wrote that wasn't done like on a dare was a smutty fic for the anime Trigun that still exists on my ff.net page if you find it (no I'm not linking it) that I wrote in high school. It is Not Good.

20. Favorite fic you've written? I give the same answer to this question every time: But came the dawn the show goes on (and I don't want to say goodnight) and I don't think that will ever change.

Honourable mentions

-For better or for worse (Even if it's just tonight) 

-So Close To Reaching That Famous Happy End

-Yellow Wood

-Dress You Up In My Love

Not tagging anyone, but if you wanna do this ask game, go to!

[nachosncheezies]

20 questions for 20 writers

I was tagged by @thursdayinspace, and possibly others but idk, I'd have to go back through my activity feed to find out and. No. Bless you and thank you to anyone else who may have done it xD

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 13

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? Only 26,434! So far xD

3. What fandoms do you write for? NBC's Blindspot and X-Files.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? The Bet (txf), A Good Team (blindspot), Bitter Truth (txf), Selfless Disregard (blindspot), A Joke A Lie (txf)

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to! I really, really try to!!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Well right now it is hands down and without question a Deadalive chapter I've written for my txf AU, but that won't be posted for a while. I guess I would have to say it's a toss up between Bitter Truth (txf) and The Coin (blindspot).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The Family (blindspot). If you want an x files one then where I've currently left The Bet is happy as shit. This will change however lmao

8. Do you get hate on fics? To date I have not. There is one fic I went into knowing that it was going to be a possibly unpopular take on an already INCREDIBLY unpopular plot line. I knew it will never be beloved, but thankfully, people were gracious even so.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do not. I am not brave enough. 😂

10. Do you write crossovers? 🙈🙉🙊

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Also not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Sort of! I was working on a series of drabbles with someone, but my co-author had to step away from fandom for life reasons. I did receive blessing to proceed on my own, but idk, it's just not the same. :/ So they will probably never see the light of day.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? This is a more complicated question than I can convey in a tag game.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The aforementioned team project.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good at getting into some characters' heads. I do (what to me is) fantastic angst, but that also usually involves a lot of purple prose. xD I'm very arty farty about it. xD

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I tend to go round in circles. Fortunately I think I've been so far pretty successful at brutally editing my way out of it, at the end of the day. I struggle with physicality. Emoting, gestures, movement and action.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I have thus far had no reason to do so, and I'm not sure I'd take that on. As a reader I think it's tough to do it well, in a way that doesn't make things awkward or clunky for people who don't speak the language.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I mean, I love them all? They're my babies. I love Bitter Truth. I love Selfless Disregard. I love love love my blindspot 5x11 deleted scenes fix WIP, my x files season 8 deleted scenes WIP, and now I've got this x files married on a dare AU eating holes of pain and delight all through my sensibility. Do not make me choose amongst my children xD

@randomfoggytiger added additional questions:

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life? Both and neither. I love to play with words. I can't not play with words. Not everything need be written, however. I went many many years without writing.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript? I don't really do notes, scenes generally come for me in one, so I guess I'd have to say manuscript?

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration? It's a ~mystery~. There is a mental slow cooker. Anything at all can be an ingredient. I never know what's gonna come out til it dings at me. I would never have turned it back on if not for my lovely pal over at Blindspot (you know who you are xD) and a handful of others, though. Their work and their friendship inspires me constantly.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing? Am I singing solo. If so, do I get to pick my key. These are VERY important questions.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective? It can do, yeah.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN? AO3 for the posting/feedback (and love the download option), Tumblr for the community aspects especially while in progress.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it? 26,434; yes and no. I'm happy that I've posted anything at all; three years ago it never would have happened. Would I really, really, really like to add my 23k and counting x files and my 24k blindspot WIPs to that number? OF COURSE. (Come to think of it, I have several thousand more words floating around tumblr that I've never migrated. I should get on that. xD)

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably? Movies/books you are LOOKING at them, every time you look at my tumblr. Fics? Ahh, too long a list. Would need its own post.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it? When it's my writing, I love to hear if I've made someone cry tbh 😅 That I've made someone feel anything at all, really, but I write a lot of angst, so. 😅😅 Misery delights in company, I guess xD In life? Someone I really respect and looked up to professionally once paid me an extremely high and thoughtful compliment about my curiosity. I still carry that one tucked under my ribs.

10. What defines your writing style? I. have. NO IDEA. xD xD xD Messy chaotic angst! Words that come unbidden and often at the most annoying times so they may or may not have any "style" at all! Wordy and sometimes overly poetic and entirely novice! Are any of those "styles"???? xD

[jazzmckay]

tagged by @broodsys for this writer questionnaire uvu ty, i got really into this one. the deep jazz lore incoming <3

tagging @lyriumlullaby-ao3, @inscrutable-shadow, and @skadizzleross

copy and paste-able question list at the bottom of the post!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

says 88, but one is anonymous lol 89 babey

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

824,682

3. What fandoms do you write for?

dragon age currently, prior to that, detroit: become human. some witcher and RWBY mixed in. teen wolf, dishonored, red vs blue, homestuck back in the day, a couple other things.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Truth in Melody (witcher, geraskier)

The World Upside Down (dbh gen)

left an impression on my heart (teen wolf, scott/stiles. its over a decade old i am not linking this lol)

Variable Outcome (dbh, connor & gavin gen)

Winter Chill and Summer Bloom (dbh, connor/gavin)

5. Do you respond to comments?

absolutely! if i don't, it's only because the person is being a jerk or just uncomfortable. give me a heart emoji, you're getting a heart emoji right back. boop

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i generally write happy endings, no matter how hellish the road to that happy endings is. i do, however, have a Bad End dbh oneshot. Fair Compensation. it's straight up non-con, and from aggressor pov, so viewer discretion is advised

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gosh idk how i could pick. as i said in the previous answer, i try to leave off on a high note. Truth in Melody or perhaps Promises to Keep. wouldn't say they're happier than others, but they're among my longest fics, which means the characters had to go through some bullshit to get those happy endings lmfao

8. Do you get hate on fics?

a couple times. more often, i get weird / uncomfortable comments that i just ignore

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do! well, i'd say "kinky" tends to be a general theme ahahaha and feelsy! smut in my chaptered fics are more basic, the oneshots can be wild though. and then there's from the depths, an ancient song, where i wrote a foursome involving a LOT of tentacles. like a lot. so take that how you will.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

ive dabbled in ideas, but rarely get around to actually writing them. i do like the concept of smashing my favourite universes together, though. my dbh vampire series is basically just the lore of vampire: the masquerade, but i wouldn't consider it a full crossover

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have! and a couple additional requests, one that i denied, and another that i agreed to but no result yet! still hoping <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, for events. shout out to any of my buddies from the homestuck shipping olympics who see this :p can you BELIEVE how long it has been

roleplaying is also kinda like co-writing fics sometimes honestly. i've got some threads that have been ongoing for years and took a lot of plotting and planning together uvu

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

how dare u ask me this. this is nearly impossible aughh but i'm going to say corvo/daud from dishonored

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

basically anything from my favourite games and such that are nonetheless overshadowed by current hyperfixation. i'm forever sad that most of my many, many dishonored fic ideas were from a time when i chronically could not finish anything

16. What are your writing strengths?

i don't know, i'm bad at acknowledging good things about myself lol characterization, i suppose, that tends to be what i get the most lovely comments about <3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

fluff, unless it's the resolution to angst lmfao i need to build up to it. drop me straight into a nothing scenario of fluff and i don't know what to DO. technical-wise, idk, descriptions i think

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

it certainly has its place and can be done well! but it's easy to mess it up, too. you need to make sure it's accurate and fitting for the scene, you need to avoid racist stereotyping, you need the story to still make sense and flow well. if the message isn't clear because most readers don't know the language, or have to keep looking it up / reading author notes, that's immersion-breaking imo. with fictional languages where much of the fanbase is familiar with the common words, though, no big deal i'd say

19. First fandom you wrote for?

honestly i think it was the cartoon, angry beavers lol i didn't know what's what i was doing, at the time. as far as serious, intentional stories, maybe firefly? or xmen?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

i cannot pick just one lol 4 is as low as ill go

previously linked Winter Chill and Summer Bloom: this is very hurt/comfort, my favourite thing, with a bunch of my other favourite things tossed in. touch-starvation, non-verbal character, characters getting away from the location of their suffering to heal in a better place, both physically and mentally, sweet slice of life stuff etc.

take these broken wings and learn to fly: more h/c! this one starts off heavy as hell and involves a lot of Process of Healing (to no ones surprise, at this point). healing has gotta be one of my favourite genders. also it's femslash.

Sight & Shadows: it's both plot- and character-driven, i'm happy with how i balanced both simultaneously. it's my vampire au, and other than the v:tm lore borrowing, it feels almost original to me. it's a rarepair, in an au--as niche as it gets, shaped a lot by the universe and story i put together for the whole series. it was a joy to create, because i truly did write this for ME. i wouldn't say any of my fics were written for others, per se, but i guess this one just felt different from the start. i wasn't anticipating an audience, i was just telling the story these characters needed, the way i like to do it. i had great friends supporting me through it, so i wasn't alone in the process or anything, it just felt the most like writing an original story than any of my other fics have

into the light of the dark black night: first of all, yes, 2/4 fics listed here are titled with lyrics from blackbird by the beatles. blackbird lyrics means intense feelings, that's just how it is. i've done it twice, and ill DO IT AGAIN. anyway, this one takes place in one of dbh's grimmest possible endings--the nuclear blast ending. i did a lot of research for this one, and also put a lot of thought into handling it with as much care as i think a concept like this requires. it's weighty, but hopeful. it has apocalypse elements, which i love. i got to do cyberpunky stuff as well. i added some of the elements i think dbh would have included if d@vid cage weren't a coward. i projected multiplicity onto some of the characters. i got to write north as the steadfast and successful leader of the revolution, as she deserves. blackbird fly <3

if you made it through all of that... thank you :>

and the template:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[marezelle]

20 Questions

tagged by both @toopunkrockforshul and @writingordinaryrealities so I guess I'd better do it LOL

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18!

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

202,063

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only Greenwing & Dart by Victoria Goddard. In the past I wrote a teeny bit of Legend of Korra fic, and then one Check, Please! fic and one Pokemon fic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

falling and falling and falling, A Beifong Woman's Guide to Getting the Girl, tender is the night, to face unafraid the plans that we made, and protective measures

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, and I usually do immediately after I post a fic. (I always end up running behind, though.) I do so because I am genuinely SO grateful to everyone who reads and comments on my stories. Every comment is a gift.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

To call it angst is perhaps overselling the yearning happening there, but probably protective measures.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I had to go back and look at fics I've barely even thought about in years, but probably tender is the night, tbh.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! I am not a popular writer. (thank god)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have begun to dabble, though I don't know how to quantify it? it's smut. LOL

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I still have that unfinished Carol-inspired Check, Please! au. I'm probably never going to go back to it, but I maintain that the vibes were immaculate.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but how cool would that be?

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, and tbh the idea of doing so is intimidating as hell, but I'm sure it would be fun.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

What do you mean "favorite"? I'm supposed to pick? I can't even pick a current favorite, considering I'm writing a whole polycule of various ships for G&D and I love them all.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I've accepted that my older unfinished works are going to stay that way, but sometimes I do think about The Journey. The end of that fic was going to involve Jinora and Opal leaving the Eastern Air Temple, to be followed by a sequel where they travelled to Zaofu, then the Southern Water Tribe, and then through the Fire Nation. The third story in the series would have brought them to Republic City, where they would establish Air Temple Island. The story as I began it just had too many plot holes, though, and I ended up losing interest in the primary romantic relationship.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do a decent job with pacing. It turns out that I'm good at planning out a cohesive narrative that will play out over the course of a series; working out the snags is part of the fun. I like when unnoticed details are given greater/changed meaning or depth later on. (I learned that from @ourimpavidheroine!) Oh and my friends say I write pining well, LOL.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Figuring out plots driven by anything but the characters' emotional beats. (This is why I've written thousands of words of fanfic this year, and simply cannot get an original novel out of the planning stages.) I so wish I could write a complicated political plot, or a mystery, but I think those things are beyond me. Weaving in description alongside dialogue is also tricky for me, I always feel like I fall into using the same phrases over and over.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't speak any other languages well enough to do it, but it would be very neat.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Pokemon, *way* back in the day.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

*gasp* How dare you make me pick just one. I guess it has to be hello, my old heart, though. I just am so proud of that fic. It's not just that it's the kind of thing that I've dreamed of writing for a long while (slowburn, lots of yearning, LONG) but that I managed to do it during a summer where I was struggling with just about everything else in my life. I'm very fond of the world it's set in, and I have so many plans for both prequels and sequels to it.

I'm tagging @ourimpavidheroine, @assistant-blogkeeper, and anyone else who thinks this would be fun! (no pressure to play along, though <3)

[perpetual-stories]

How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 20 - The Deep Dark Depths

Author’s Note: MERRY GLITCHMAS EVERYONE! I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE GIFT OF “GLITCHED” FOR YOU ALL!! :D

My god, it’s been 2 YEARS since I last posted a chapter and I deeply apologize for the LONG hiatus. I’ve had this chapter nearly done for that long but never finished it until recently. I didn’t - and don’t - have writer’s block, it’s just difficult to put my exact thoughts and vision down into words and make it come out sounding as good as I’m picturing in my head, you know? That and life just sometimes gets in the way of writing. So I haven’t given up on the fic, don’t worry! If I was done with it, I’d let you guys know, believe me.

I have no idea who still cares about this fic and if anyone will be interested in reading more of it, but you know, quite frankly I don’t care. Although it’s a challenge to write, I do thoroughly enjoy writing Glitched and will continue to do so until I finish it (or get tired of it, thought I HIGHLY doubt that’ll happen).

Now this chapter actually came out really long - longest chapter to date. It felt too long to be one chapter SO I split it into two separate parts. So I’ve chosen to give you guys Part 20 for your Christmas gift today, and then Part 21 I will hopefully be uploading on New Year’s Day (NOT Eve - gonna start the New Year off with Glitched). You guys have been waiting a long time; seems only right to give you guys two chapters a week apart.

Slight Warning: Of course I couldn’t come back without giving you guys a chapter involving a warning. Now granted, this isn’t a really gory chapter, this isn’t all blood and guts and torture so don’t worry about that. However, there is SOME bloodshed and some gross descriptions of a rotting corpse as well as an eyeball. Aside from that, the atmosphere of the chapter is filled with dread, suspense, and eerie tension. 

This chapter, as well as the next, are very important to the story and are peaking the climax. They answer some questions but also raise more questions.

Read this while listening to this playlist.

Hope you guys enjoy it! It’s good to be back :) 

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From the moment Jackieboy Man had decided to plunge himself into the open vastness of the void, shadows had curled around him and had enticed him into going further with each step he took. A deep-seated growth of harrowing proportions was enlarging at an exponential rate in the pit of his stomach the deeper he went. An unrelenting fear for the other egos. He hadn’t received any sort of response from any of them when he had called out to them and that never happened. When Jack had shown up fatally injured and bleeding out on the ground, everyone had raced to his side. When Chase had given an attempt at suicide, the firing of his gun had alarmed everyone so much that not a single ego hesitated to rush out to see what had happened. When Jackie had called out to them…there was nothing. All the hero received was a deafening silence just the same as the one he was currently engulfed in.  

  He marched onward and didn’t dare look back, keeping his eyes forward as he journeyed into the unknown. His thoughts were running astray, all focused on one individual: his creator. Jackie didn’t even know where to begin on the Irishman’s behavior back there before he had gone off to check on the doctor. Jack had looked and sounded like Jack, but the choice of words – the things he had said – didn’t seem at all right. To add as more evidence that something was off with the YouTuber, his eyes, his smile of reassurance – they had been completely void of any warmth and sincerity. His words may have slipped out sounding like he cared and meant what he said, but Jackie wasn’t blind, nor was he an oblivious fool. Those sea-blue eyes had been unnaturally dark, empty, cold. Orbs of otherworldly properties glazed over with false empathy. It had felt like he had been staring at a mask – someone else wearing not just a mask of his creator’s face but an entire bodysuit. 

His pace was gradually faltering, a biting shudder choosing then to straighten out his posture. He didn’t know if Jack was Jack or not, that was the truth. Whether the Irishman was himself or someone impersonating him, the fact remained that he wasn’t alright, he was off. Had he been affected by something or had he been replaced? And if he had been replaced, then by what? Nothing could get in and out of the void, nothing except for Jack himself – Jackie knew this. So if something had managed to get itself inside the void somehow, someway, how did it get by without Jack noticing? How was that possible?

  Jackieboy Man didn’t know for a fact that the man he had spoken with wasn’t Jack – he couldn’t prove it, not just yet, anyway. He did, however, know this: Something was being kept hidden from the superhero and he had a feeling he was going to find it somewhere, here, out in the open void.

  A brisk chill swept past him, finding its way into his suit and tugging at the hairs at the back of his neck. The air seemed to be growing colder the further he went. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. The masked hero slowed himself to a halt, taking the time to look at his surroundings, although there was really nothing to see. His torso twisted, his legs following the motion, turning around to get an idea of how far out into the void he’d gone. His vision was completely obscured by the dark, not a single thing in sight. Shimmering neon trees were no longer able to be seen, nor were the colorful circling portals to the respective homes of his brethren.  That couldn’t be right; he hadn’t gone that far – at least, that’s what it felt like to him. The luminescent branches of those trees should’ve been visible from where he was. Even if he had gone quite a ways out, there should’ve been light in the distance.

  There was no light, not a speck of it. This didn’t shock the ego as much as it had before. He knew deep in his gut something was wrong with the void, and this was only proving it. Like before, he had once again found himself swallowed whole by the discomforting shadows of the void. The only difference this time? He hadn’t heard or seen any –

  A sweet childish giggle came bubbling out from somewhere off in the cold vastness behind him. It carried an eerily similar charm like Ilsa’s voice.  

  Jackieboy Man’s body went rigid, spine straightening and shoulders broadening with the motion. A shuddering breath slid past his parted lips, visible to the eye due to the drop in temperature. Eyes were fixed forward, unblinking, flashes of a little girl’s undead corpse flickering before him.

  It’s happening again. No sight of the crossroads…The feeling of being watched, He swallowed thickly, …Her giggle…

  His eyes darted to the left, he licked his lips, and hesitantly, he turned around – head moving first, then his body. Heart skipping a painful beat, he saw what he had feared to see yet again in the distance up ahead. It may have been darker than dark but he could see her, he could make out the small pale body of the good doctor’s youngest daughter, Ilsa. From where he stood, he could make out her messy hair, blotchy discolored skin, and the maroon-red stains in her dress. Her smile was abnormally wide, stretched bloody from ear to ear due to the corners of her mouth having been cut open. Jackie released another uneven breath at seeing her stand there, hands behind her back and looking as innocent as ever – well, as much as she could with her body decomposing anyway.

  “Ilsa…” Her name came out rather hushed and not like a question. He wasn’t questioning it this time; he had hoped she would show up again. He had known he had in fact seen Ilsa before and now here she was yet again, come to see him in this uncharted area of the void.

  The four-year-old girl didn’t move, merely bounced on the balls of her feet and giggled happily at the hero’s reaction to her being there. “Hiii!” It was dragged out in that cute way young kids would normally do when shy and meeting someone new.

  Jackie felt the corner of his lips twitch with the urge to smile at hearing her cheery voice. “Hi.” He didn’t smile though – how could he when he was seeing her with a mutilated face, undead? He sighed softly and deeply, an attempt to steady his nerves, before he licked his lips and asked, “What are – ”

  “You came back!” Ilsa chirped. “You weren’t supposed to leave, silly.” She tittered, rocking back and forth where she stood staring at the man in red. “We were going to pway!” Her hands clapped together out of excitement.

  “No.” Jackie almost immediately shook his head at her words. “No, Ilsa, we’re not going to play. I’m not here to play. I don’t have time – I need to – ”

  Wait. He cut himself short, eyes falling to the dark watery floor. Why are you talking to her? She’s not real, she can’t be. His brow furrowed with puzzlement at this, not entirely convinced. You know no one other than you and the others can come out here in the open, you KNOW that. Jack himself had explained this all to you in explicit detail.

  That was true – Jack had in fact explained to each of them how the void worked and how anyone and everyone in their respective worlds could not interact with those of another world. They didn’t know they weren’t real, they didn’t know they were all more or less simulations made for the egos and to keep them content. Some people shared the same face; the egos weren’t the only ones. While the egos were clones of Jack, certain individuals were clones of people in Jack’s own life. It made sense why, given how the void was shaped by his thoughts and feelings. It was no different than having dreams of people you swore you didn’t recognize, only to read about how those people were probably random strangers your brain decided to remember seeing from earlier that week. 

Dr. Schneeplestein and Chase Brody’s wives, for example, both wore the exact same face as Jack’s in real life girlfriend, Signe. Sure, just like the egos, they had different hairstyles and personalities, but the fact remained they bore the resemblance of someone important in Jack’s life. If they were able to wander out and run into each other, who would be able to explain to them how and why they looked the same without causing them to freak out? Chaos would break out and it would be a hell of a hassle to reset everything, thus why Jack created borders that none of them, except for the egos, could pass through.

  And yet, no more than thirty feet away, decaying on the spot, stood one of the doctor’s daughters.

  Look at her. He lifted his gaze from the floor back to the living corpse that was Ilsa Schneeplestein. How could she be out here? Or more importantly, how could she look like that and be alive?

  Ilsa lowered her hands, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. She blinked, tilting her head a bit out of confusion, not understanding why the hero had suddenly stopped talking. “Mr. Jackieboy?”

  If something bad had happened to her or anyone else, you would’ve been able to sense it. His face was scrunched up with perplexity as his thoughts tried to rationalize everything. She’s not dead, she’s safe at home with her family...So how is it you’re seeing her out here, in the open, mouth split apart and body rotting away?

  He noticed Ilsa drop her hands at her sides, her smile slipping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her gentle voice laced over with what sounded like concern.

  Jackieboy Man stared at her for a prolonged minute, torn between believing what his eyes were seeing versus what his conscience was insistent upon. The low buzzing of flies could be heard coming from where Ilsa was as the air grew heavy and fetid with the stench of putrefaction. The hero’s stomach rolled and he retched, instantly doubling over and slapping a hand over his mouth to hold in the sick threatening to escape. He shut his eyes for a brief second, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat and attempting to not pay any attention to the rancid smell accumulating around him.

  “Don’t you want to pway with me?”

  An eye pried open to take a look at the bloodied girl. There was a hint of hurt in her voice, proven further by how she was no longer smiling bright. She instead was pouting, some sort of fluid beginning to leak out of her mouth. Repulsion contorted the ego’s face, both eyes locked onto her now as he came to agreement with what his conscience was telling him. He shook his head slowly, muttering, “You’re not real.”

  Ilsa appeared taken aback by that, her brows furrowing together and pout becoming more prominent. “What?” There was a crack in her voice, which admittedly caused the hero’s heart to clench tight. “Why – Why would you say that?” She gave a light giggle and extended her arms to either side. “I’m wight here!”

  The green-haired man shook his head once more before lowering it, not wanting to look at the apparition of his friend’s daughter anymore. She’s not real…She’s not real. “No you’re not.” He said firmly. “You’re not real.” He was shaking his head again, murmuring, “She’s not real.”

  “W-Why do you keep saying that?” Another audible crack in her voice, accompanied with a faint sniffling.

  Jackie winced at the realization that she was starting to cry – he was making a little girl cry. No, no, he was not making a little girl cry. This wasn’t a little girl, this was something else entirely. This thing wasn’t real, it didn’t have real emotions, he knew that. He shut his eyes, attempting to focus on something, anything, other than the gradually wavering sobs emanating from Schneeplestein’s daughter.

  “She’s not real. She’s not real. You know she’s not real.” He repeated under his breath, hoping like hell she would eventually go away if he ignored her presence being there.

  “Mr. J-Jackieboy?” Ilsa whined, a louder gross sniff of her nose echoing through the dark.

  The ego’s eyes screwed tightly shut at hearing this, gasping softly at being able to feel her pain. It was proving to be a difficult challenge for Jackieboy Man to block out the cries of the undead child. He may have convinced himself that the girl before him wasn’t really Ilsa Schneeplestein, but the superhero in him – the part that believed he was solely responsible for everyone in the void, the part that was hell-bent on making sure that everyone was safe – wasn’t having it. Every fiber in his being was screaming to run to the girl, scoop her up in his strong arms, and reassure her everything would be okay.

  “She’s not real…She’s not real.”

  “Stop!” She cried out pleadingly. “Stop saying that!”

  “She’s not real.” He gritted between his teeth, just barely hanging on. Hearing a four-year-old reduced to tears and begging for him to stop insisting she wasn’t real was relentlessly torturing his heart and making him question his morals.

  “W-What did I do wrong?” She hiccupped over her sobs, sniffling noisily. “Why – Why don’t you w-want to pway with me?”

  “Stop it.” The words were wrenched from him as a weak, strained whimper. It was his turn to be the one to implore her for mercy. “Just stop.” Jackie shook his head. “You’re not real.” It came out gruff and assertive, rather harsh. If he had had his eyes open, he had a feeling he would’ve seen Ilsa jump in alarm.

  “Mr. Jackieboy!” He heard her whine upsettingly at a higher pitch than before, desperately wanting her hero to stop and pay attention to her.

  “D-Do you hate me?” The child sobbed. “Do – Do you not l-like me anymore?”

  “SHUT UP!” The words nearly shattered his vocal cords. “YOU’RE NOT REAL!” There was a nasty bite to it as he screamed; a snarl of anger let loose to channel the hero’s frustration and turmoil.

  He huffed and puffed, his nerves fried and going to the point he was subtly trembling from head to toe. He didn’t move, nor did he dare open his eyes just yet. He wasn’t ready to see whether or not the living corpse of the good doctor’s daughter still remained standing. He listened closely, expecting to hear the cries continue on and drive him to insanity.

  Ilsa’s sobs had stuttered, softened, and ceased almost immediately after the hero’s screams. No more wet sniffling. No hiccups. No whines or whimpers or pleas. The distressed sounds of a child were no longer audible, only a haunting ear-ringing silence left to permeate the space around the green-haired ego. And through this silence, and over his unsteady panting, Jackie could make out the faintest deep breathing. Breaths plagued with a raspy wheeze and sickening gurgle as though the girl was choking on her own saliva.

  “You were too late.”

  A cool breeze whisked through the fabric of Jackieboy Man’s suit, chills prickling up his spine as he heard the change in the little girl’s voice. That hadn’t sounded like the Ilsa he knew. Her once sweet and angelic voice had fallen cold and monotone. Unfeeling. Dead. The words had slipped out eerily calm and unvarnished, voice absent of a tremor of heartache. Nothing gave away that the girl had been a crying, emotional mess a moment ago. His brow furrowed at not just hearing Ilsa speak but at what she had said. She had just suddenly decided to change the subject on a whim, not bothering to continue asking the ego about playing with her. To Jackie, everything felt as though it had been one big act, and seeing as how he hadn’t cooperated the way she had wanted, the act was dropped and disposed of. Releasing a shuddering breath, he pried his eyes open.

  The man flinched and gasped softly in alarm at seeing the undead child standing before him. Her eyes were just as foggy and glazed over as he had remembered. She looked so much worse than the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was a mess of ratty tangled tendrils framing her now slightly pudgy face, which was littered with popped blisters and small blotches of blue and purple. Much larger patches of muddy maroon and indigo were swelling up in parts of her body that Jackie could see, bloating up with her liquefied insides. Her stomach had to have had a huge patch because there was an exceedingly great stain soaked with blood on the front of her dress. A thin sheen slicked her loose and soft flesh, causing the corners of her butchered smile to sag a tad bit. Discoloration had taken a massive toll on her skin; no longer white as a ghost, more so an abundance of plasma-yellow, bruise-purple, and ash-grey. Flies were swarming around her, quite a few having landed and now crawling upon her person. The fluid Jackie had seen leaking out of her mouth was now seen clearly as foamy blood oozing out from not just her mouth but her nose as well.

  Jackieboy Man hacked and coughed at the putrescent odor emitting from Ilsa’s body, lifting an arm to block his nose and repressing the urge to vomit. His stomach recoiled in disgust at spotting a few small maggots squirming out through the exposed muscle of the girl’s Glasgow smile. Ilsa stared up at the hero unblinking as her head slowly tilted to the right with a cringe-worthy cracking.

  “You were too late, Mr. Jackieboy.” She repeated in the same stony tone. The words were delivered like she was trying to drive home a point.

  Jackie’s expression contorted into a hybrid of question and fear. Too late? Too late for what? His heart stuttered apprehensively at the reminder of Jack going off to check on Dr. Schneeplestein. He had wanted to check on the doctor himself, given how he had had a feeling something bad was going to happen to him, and yet he had allowed Jack to go in his place. He had chosen to risk storming off into the unmarked areas of the void to search for answers versus going in to protect a close friend. What if…

  The red-suited hero hesitantly lowered his arm from his face, lips trembling in an effort to speak. A faint breath slid past them.

  “What…” He shallowed thickly and dared to ask in a hushed whisper, “W-What do you mean?”

  Ilsa stood there, unmoving and continuing to stare at him sinisterly. She was regarding his question carefully, as well as the way he had queried it. Then, unnervingly slow, she righted her head up and began to smile. The corners of her malformed face sluggishly stretched, chapped lips pulling back to bear teeth. An eerily cheerful giggle of amusement bubbled out of her, pushing thick ribbons of blood out of her mouth. She didn’t answer his question. Before Jackieboy Man had the chance to speak, the girl spun on her heel and ran off into the darkness, laughing playfully.

  “Hey! Wait!” Jackie extended a hand outward before he found himself darting after her. “Wait! Ilsa! Where are you going?!”

  She didn’t stop for him, nor did she look back or stop her giggling. For a dead little girl, she was surprisingly fast. The shadows were drawing her deeper into the dark to the point the hero could barely even see her. The pitter-patter of her feet hitting the wet ground was growing softer the further she went; light splashes of water getting mixed with the fluids seeping out from the orifices of her body. Jackie sprinted, squinting a bit and trying to not lose sight of her.

  “Ilsa! Slow down!” He called out. “STOP!”

  He himself skidded to a stop upon a now white-tiled floor. Everything before him was white.

  For a fleeting moment, he had to squint given the unexpected brightness. The never-ending void he had been engulfed in a second ago had inexplicably become a long hallway bathed in blinding white from floor to ceiling. Glossed tiles made up the ground beneath his feet, T-bar fluorescent lights illuminating the entirety of the hall. Doors appearing to be heavy duty steel lined the walls, each one about fifteen to twenty feet apart. Ilsa was nowhere in sight.

  Jackieboy Man’s face scrunched up in equal parts alarm and confusion, eyes darting around the place out of bewilderment.

  “What?” He breathed, turning around to see if maybe there would be something to explain what had happened and where he was. He was only met with a wall.

  The hero blinked with question, lifting both of his hands to touch the surface, testing to see if it was real. His gloved palms were met with a hard surface – it was solid polished concrete. He spun back around to face the lengthy hallway, utterly perplexed by what was going on. What had just happened? Where was he? How did he suddenly end up in some long pure-white hallway? And how did he manage to lose Ilsa in the process?

  Sucking in a breath, he advanced forward, reminding himself why he had come this far to begin with. Something was wrong with the void and he was determined to unveil the truth behind what was going on. He’d never been out in the open uncharted space of the void before, nor had he ever come upon a place like the one he was currently walking through. Jack had never mentioned a long white hallway before.

  What is this place? He thought, glancing around mystified as he went on.

  “Ilsa?” He tried, eyeing down the pristine corridor for the deceased child.

  He didn’t see or hear anyone. Slowly, with careful steps, he progressed further, taking curious looks at each door on either side of him.

  “Ilsa? Can you hear me?” He tried again. “Where are you?” He didn’t want to see her again, but truthfully, the fact she had vanished in the blink of an eye and left him now in a deafeningly silent hall all alone was making him feel a lot more uncomfortable and alert than before.

  His whole body had grown tense the moment he had entered this unknown environment and it still was. A suffocating wave of dread was slowly but surely drowning him no matter how hard he was trying to disregard it. Every inch of his being was cautioning him about his surroundings, as though he was half-expecting someone or something to come out of any one of the doors to jump him. He needed to be ready for anything. Even if no one was there, he still had Jack – or possibly the entity posing as him – to worry about. He had limited time on his hands, about an hour or less to find what he wanted and get out of there.

  His eyes skimmed over along the handle of a nearby door, looking it over with thought. He took a glance down the hall at the other doors, wondering what could possibly be behind any one of them. He noticed how up ahead, the corridor curved to the right, meaning there was more to this place. The hero huffed softly, turning back to the door he was currently in front of. He went to turn the handle.

  A girlish giggle echoed off of the walls and startled him. Jackie straightened, eyes darting to the end of the hall from which the unannounced giggle came from. He was surprised to see little Ilsa standing there, holding her hands down near her hips and beaming with joy.

  “Ilsa?” Jackie called out, taking his hand away from the door handle. One step forward triggered the decaying girl to laugh and run out of sight around the corner. “Ilsa, wait!”

  The hero took off after her, charging down the long corridor and making a sharp turn when he came to the end. He found himself going down yet another completely white hallway, only with far less doors than the one before. Up ahead he spotted Ilsa outside of a door, looking at him with that gross unpleasant smile again. A not-so-sweet chortle was the last thing to come from her as she opened the door and ran inside. Jackie quickly bolted for the door before it could slide shut, grasping it and pulling it wide open. Perplexity contorted the green-haired ego’s face when he was met with darkness. Ilsa had vanished without a trance unexplainably. Jackie would’ve groaned in frustration if it hadn’t been for what struck his attention about the room.

  The walls and floor were sleek and black, the difference between the two seamless and giving the illusion of a deep continuous cavern. It was awfully dark; there was limited lighting, most of which was coming from more than several screens flickering in midair near the far left of the room. Brow furrowing with question, Jackie silently crept inside, hand sliding off of the door gently to make sure it’d remain cracked open. First casting a glance around the room, the hero’s eyes shot back to the hovering screens as he approached. Some were small, some were large, each one scattered about and overlapping others. At least half of them were corrupted by grain and static, white noise bouncing off of the walls of the darkened lair. The first few up front, however, while constantly glitching out, were displaying visible images. The hero neared them, momentarily noticing how there wasn’t a desk with technical equipment beneath these screens. No keyboards, no mouse, nothing. When he got closer, it was apparent then that the screens weren’t even monitors fixated on a wall; they were literally one with the air, made up of pixels and code.

  Jackieboy Man lifted a hand and hesitantly moved to gently tap the closest screen. A light array of glitches broke out, startling the ego and causing him to retract his finger. He tried to see through the grain continuously distorting the images on display, attempting to make out what was being shown. Movement could be seen – what looked like figures moving around, doing god-knows-what. Flickers of what kind of looked like the inside of a circus tent were projected on the screen right up front. The tops of city buildings could be seen in a small screen behind it in the upper right corner. An eerily dead neighbourhood street was getting eaten away by pixels on an equally small screen to the left. Another screen to the right looked like it was monitoring what appeared to be a hospital operating room, bloodied with a deceased patient on the table.  Jackie’s eyes flew across each screen, gradually widening as he came to recognize each image. He knew each place – he had been to each place. The realization caused his blood to run cold alarmingly fast.

  For a minute, he found he couldn’t take his attention away from the screens. His body was paralyzed, stiffened in place by the growing anxiety slowly but surely working to take a hold of him. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not noticed anything wrong with the void earlier? How long had this been going on for – how long had this intruder been keeping an eye on every one of them?  The hero in him was screaming at him to run off and find his brothers, overcome with this incessant need to get the fuck out of there and go and protect the egos from whatever the hell was pulling the strings here. And yet, he couldn’t get himself to leave – not yet. He had only scratched the surface. He needed an idea of who or what was behind this. He needed to know more. He needed more information, more answers.

  Clenching his hands up into fists to gather some strength, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, releasing a held-in breath as a result. Lifting his head, he examined the rest of the room. His eyes fell onto the wall across the other side of the room, exhibiting a selection of diverse tools. An oblong wooden table was below, only a few inches away from it. Jackie stepped towards it, eyes roaming the assorted devices presented on the wall. Kitchen knives of all sorts gleamed in the light provided by the dim lightbulb hanging above, illuminating their sharpened edges. Butcher knives, meat cleavers, serrated blades, daggers – they all decorated the wall, most stained and having been used before for God knows what. There were saw blades as well – a coping saw, a handsaw, a hacksaw, a bone saw. The ego gulped audibly, his heart rate gradually climbing at the very thought of what any one of these vicious implements could be used for.

 Tentatively, he finally dared to take a look at the items upon the table before him. There was a knife lined with both a rust-red substance and a thicker black one. Closer to the far edge of the table, an unpolished pocket watch was seen next to a small jar preserving something in some kind of transparent fluid. The masked man frowned, leaning down so as to get a better look at the jar’s contents. His face visibly paled, lips parting out of equal parts shock and revulsion. It was a severed tongue – a severed human tongue. His heart gave a worrisome pang in his chest, once again urging him to leave, but he steeled himself, morbid curiosity taking the reins.

  His gaze shifted to the left of the jar, scanning over a larger jar filled halfway with thick black fluid. It kind of looked similar to the substance that was on the nearby knife. Jackie’s expression contorted into one of perplexity and mild fascination, not having a clue as to what it could be. Raising a hand, he moved to lightly touch it, almost compelled to lift the jar up to get a closer look, only to instantly stop at seeing the inky fluid slither up the glass at the first touch he gave. He gasped softly and flung back, taken off-guard by the movement.

  This stuff was sentient? What even was it?

  The hero took a breather, steadying his nerves before he stepped forward, lifting his finger again. Uncertainly, he hovered it an inch away from the glass, waiting to see what would happen. A shaken breath was wrenched out of him as he watched the substance glide up along the glass towards where his fingertip was, snaking up in thin black trails and running patterns of a circuit board. He slowly moved his finger from one side to the other, testing to see if his thoughts were correct – if the ooze was interested in him. Sure enough, wherever his finger went, lines of black would follow. It was as though the stuff wanted to get out and make contact with the hero. It was like a parasite.

  “What…are you?” The words were whispered, the ego continuing to stare at the contained specimen with unease.

  Out of his peripheral vision, another jar was situated; the lid having been discarded off to the side. Jackie’s consideration for the jar he was currently preoccupied with almost immediately was abandoned, turning his head to look at the open jar. There was nothing in it except for thin globs of residue from whatever had been inside it. Excess clear gel was congealing in the far left and what looked like blood covered the entire bottom of the jar, which was beginning to lose its bright red shade. Translucent rivulets of red and black spattered the inside walls, mainly so on the side of the jar facing Jackieboy Man. In fact, the top of the jar was coated in a mixture of blood, murky gel, and inky goo. Spotting this, the green-haired man straightened, a gloved hand going to run a finger over the rim. He withdrew and brought his hand in close, rubbing the ooze between his fingers, noting just how viscous it was. He leaned in and took a whiff. Iron and a pungent sickly-sweet scent that knocked back Jackie’s senses. His brows weaved together out of question, looking at the substance with thought. He cast a glance over at the knife soaked in red and black, then to the jar of inky fluid, which had receded back down the moment Jackie had removed his finger.

  What the hell is all of this? The question prodded at his brain as he looked back to the empty jar.

  He disposed of what was on his fingers on his suit, looking from one thing on the table to the next. His roaming eyes came to an immediate halt once he saw what was at the end of the table. His eyes grew in size, the fist-sized organ in his chest stuttering painfully.

  “No…” He croaked, succumbing to the dread conjuring up scenarios in his head.

  His left hand had a mind of its own, already stretching outward to pick up the grey snapback. The signature pink skull on the front was adding fuel to what he was afraid of, as were the small specs of maroon across the side. But it wasn’t until he turned the hat over that his fears were confirmed. He nearly dropped the snapback at seeing a couple of loose strands of highlighter-green hair on the inside.

  Oh fuck…Oh god, no…Chase. His chest had tightened immensely to the point he could barely breathe. Why – Why is this here? Why, He did a once-over the entire desk, bewildered and on the verge of panicking, Why the hell is your hat here, Chase?

  But he did know. He knew why it was there, but he couldn’t accept the truth, he couldn’t accept the conclusion his mind had put together. One of the egos – one of his brothers…Something horrible must’ve happened to him…and he hadn’t known. He hadn’t known?! How could he have not felt something wrong?! His hands were shaking now, trembling from both the anger towards himself and the terror digging its claws into his heart. His fingers coiled around the hat as he glanced over to where the screens were, locking his sights onto the one displaying Chase’s neighbourhood.

  “Chase, what happened to you?” He looked back down at the hat, loosening his grip. “Who got to you?”

  His ears perked the second he heard and saw something glitch spastically into view in front of him. Pixels and lines of glitches zigzagged in the air, piecing together to create a paper-thin rectangular object that fluttered down onto the table. Jackieboy Man inched forward, setting Chase’s hat down where it’d been before in exchange for the new souvenir that had shown up. It was a postcard reading “WISH YOU WERE HERE” on the front. A light spatter of red decorated it, which caused the hero to recoil, putting it back down immediately.

  You need to get out of here.

  An icy draft blew through the room then, chilling the ego to the bone and striking up a metal creaking coming off to the left of where he stood. Jackie jolted, jerking his head in the direction from where the sound had come from. The other half of the room, he was now noticing, was different than the rest. From wall-to-wall, it became one big, secure, wire mesh cage used for storage. The door had been left unlocked, having creaked open a bit when the breeze hit. It was nearly as dark as the rest of the room, however. The masked man couldn’t really make anything out other than what he thought were probably fluorescent lights suspended above.

  Don’t. You NEED to get out of here.

  Coerced by his persistent need to keep snooping around, Jackieboy Man ignored what his gut was telling him and cautiously progressed towards the cage. His breathing grew unsteady with each step he took, wary of something lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. He should’ve been leaving; he should’ve been looking for Jack. Why the hell was he still here?!

  He looked to the wall to his left, standing right outside the cage as he felt around for a light switch. His body stiffened when he flicked the switch, bracing himself for something to spring forth to reveal itself. The lights flashed, flickering on one after another, shedding light on what was in the ginormous cage. Jackie had to squint and blink a few times over to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness, what with having gotten used to being in the dark. Becoming accustomed to the light, he could finally see the setup of the room. Swallowing thickly, the hero pulled the door open, a nearly deafening screech producing from it. He sucked in a breath as he stepped inside.

  It gave off the appearance of a large prison cell. The three walls making up the room for which the cage surrounded were made up of blackened bricks and the flooring was a lot more scuffed up than the smooth and glossy one taking up the rest of the lair. A few rusted pipes lined the left wall, the side of which there was a cracked porcelain sink adorned with mahogany-red stains. A shattered mirror hung crookedly above it, shards of it both in the sink as well as on the floor around it. An old corroded cabinet of sorts was situated across from the sink up against the right wall, one of the doors open with the contents inside spilled out on the floor: a few scalpels and a couple pairs of forceps, all of which were stained with the same mahogany-red as the stains in the sink. There were large hard-to-see portions of this red on the floor as well; Jackie could just barely make out spots and footprints all across the floor, like someone had been pacing around the place. Smeared handprints were visible on the walls as well, giving Jackie the impression someone had possibly been in a struggle. A harrowing amount of maroon had splattered all across the bedspread of the cot in the back, completely ruining it.

  Jackieboy Man hesitantly moved a step further into the room. The crunching of glass came from beneath his boot. He noticed how a rather large piece of the mirror was coated in what had to be dried blood, as though it had been used to wound someone or something. He swallowed dryly, not wanting to delve too deep into thought about what could have happened.

  Carefully maneuvering his way around the bits and pieces of glass, as well as the assortment of surgical instruments, the hero’s foot brushed against something; a light rattling originating from it. He stopped where he was, casting a glance down at his feet. His eyes followed the path of a chain, one end connecting to the left wall, close to the cot. The other end led elsewhere, curving around to the other side of the cot. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see what it was linked to.

  His thoughts were starting to get the better of him right then, flashes of Chase’s bloodied hat coming to mind. The lub-dubbing of his heart was going at an unsteady pace now, as was his breathing.

  Oh please no.

  Slowly and uncertainly, the masked man inched forward, one small step after another.

  Please.

  His eyes remained fixed on the chain, following it as he went to turn the corner.

  Don’t.

  A sinking feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach.

  Not Chase.

  Who he ended up seeing wasn’t Chase. Jackieboy Man froze, turning his body to face where the chain ended. His line of sight followed it, a hiccup of a gasp getting choked up in his throat. Eyes growing to the size of saucers and jaw dropping in horror, the hero was not prepared with what he saw. All of the blood in his face drained, going as white as a sheet and feeling a tad lightheaded. He stumbled backward, hand shooting up to cover his mouth to hold back a scream.

  Vacant blue eyes. A tuff of messy dyed hair. Unkempt dress clothes decorated with blood. The pale-grey face mirroring that of his creator.

  Jackie could barely breathe. His stomach dropped so suddenly, and with it, an invisible weight had chosen then to compress his lungs, forcing any and all air out of them. The thudding of his heart had skyrocketed to the point it hurt. He felt cold, he felt so abnormally cold all over. Fingers trembling, limbs quivering, breaths racked and erratic. Fear had swallowed the heroic ego whole.

  Get out. You need to get out. You need to get out now – RIGHT NOW!

  He didn’t think twice, he didn’t argue with himself. Not again. Jackie hurried out of the caged room immediately, slipping on a few pieces of glass and lurching forward into the door. He caught himself, straightening up and pushing away from the cage, bee-lining straight for the front door. The masked man was halfway to the exit when a sharp agonizing pain shot through his left arm. A cut-off scream was ripped from his throat, the thing latched to him sinking its teeth in deeper. Something was wrapped around his arm, applying pressure and squeezing it like a boa constrictor. Jackie staggered backward into the wire mesh, hissing through his teeth and going to grab at what was attacking him. His eyes bulged at seeing a forest green tentacle made up of veins tightening around his arm.

  “Sam?!” He exclaimed, taken aback at recognizing the septic eye, whose iris and pupil had pulled open into a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

  The optical organ gave a growl in reply, further strangling the hero’s arm and cutting off the circulation to his hand. Jackieboy Man yelped at the extreme discomfort, instantaneously reaching for the eyeball’s optic nerve and wrenching on it, trying to pull him off. He wasn’t letting up.

  “What the hell?! Let go!” Jackie tried, prying at the slippery nerve and managing to coil it around his fingers. “Come on, Sam, let go! It’s me!”

  Sam still wasn’t releasing his hold on the ego. He hissed warningly when the hero gave a harsh and rather violent yank, succeeding in peeling the septic eye’s nerve away. Clenching his teeth and bracing himself for the oncoming pain, Jackie tugged with all the strength he could muster. He let out a scream at feeling a piece of skin getting torn away as he ripped the feral eye from his arm, whipping him far across the room. Jackie pressed back into the cage, cradling his arm and taking a look at the damage that had been done. A good portion of his sleeve had been removed, beneath it a bite wound with the first layer of skin gone. Blood was welling up, already escaping and running down his arm.

  Jackieboy Man panted, wincing at the pain when he went to move his arm. He heard an angry hiss alongside the uneven sound of glitches, causing him to jerk his head up in time to see Sam launching himself in his direction. He dodged the snapping jaws dead set on tearing a new one into him, only to dart to the left again, nearly getting the tip of his nose bitten off. No matter where he moved, no matter how fast, the septic eye was swimming around at a startlingly rapid pace. Jackie kept on backing away, bringing his arms up to shield his face from the attacks. A sharp gasp was knocked out of him as Sam nipped at the open wound on his arm.

  “Sam, come on, it’s me! It’s Jackieboy Man!” He tried again, hoping to drive some sense into the little guy. The nerve of the eyeball got a hold of his wrist and lunged. Jackie quickly blocked the strike, grimacing at the piercing of teeth sinking into his flesh. “What’s gotten into you?!”

  Sam growled deeply, moving in a way like he had one goal to tear another piece of the hero away. Jackie jerked his arms hard enough to get the eyeball’s grip to loosen, giving him a chance to twist his hand and grab hold of Sam’s optic nerve. Through his gloves, he dug his nails in, really driving home pain into his assailant. He tugged and strained to pull at the septic eye’s nerve until Sam released him, letting out a distressed screech of his own. The ego saw his chance, sinking his nails in as deep as he could before whirling on his heel and hurling the eyeball directly into the wall of knives. Sam hit them with a light splat, squealing out of agony at grazing the edges of a few; mouth momentarily shrinking in on itself and revealing his iris and pupil. Jackie huffed where he stood, watching as the septic eye curled up, hovering in the air and locking onto the ego. Sam glared at him furiously, his form exploding into a flurry of tiny pixels briefly. Jackie’s face screwed up with bewilderment, having a hard time believing what his eyes just witnessed. A hiss of distain originated from the floating optical organ, getting ready to charge.

  “Sam, please!” The hero begged, not wanting to bring any more harm to his creator’s mascot. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

  The septic eye sprang at him without a thought, the jagged shark-like teeth sprouting forth once more. Jackie jumped back and ducked, arms crossed and protecting his face. Sam relentlessly assaulted him, striking him repeatedly, biting away at his arms like a rabid animal. The masked man would block a few hits, cringing and recoiling out of agony at each blow, stepping backward and making sure not to run into anything. With jaw clenched tight, and sucking in a breath, a hand balled up into a fist and he struck back, hitting the eyeball dead on. He backhanded him as a bonus to give himself some time to get some distance between them.

  Jackieboy Man ran for the front door, wanting to get the hell out and trap Sam inside. He yelped in surprise at spotting Sam out of the corner of his eye, mouth open wide and ready to bite. He barely had the time to react, spinning around and falling back into the table just as the septic eye attacked, stopped by the hero’s hand. Jackie stifled a cry at feeling his lower back collide with the edge of the table but having Sam’s teeth hook into the palm of his hand made him wheeze. He held himself up against the table, straining to curl his fingers around the eyeball, what with the pain radiating throughout his hand. Sam wiggled against the hero’s hand, nerve swishing back and forth like that of a tail of an irritated cat. He was starting to gnaw away at the palm of Jackie’s hand, ripping a helpless scream from the hero; blood leaking out of him and dripping to the floor below.

  The ego turned his head and quickly scanned the table for something to use, something to aid him in putting a stop to this. He had tried to talk to the septic eye and bring him back from whatever prison his heart had been shoved into. He had made an attempt only to be met with no change from his friend. Sam was still fueled by unrighteous fury and hostility and it didn’t seem like he was going to stop until Jackie had been taken down. Jackieboy Man couldn’t see any other way to end this but one. His sights landed on the large open jar.

  He snarled and gave a yell mixed with agony and frustration as he sank his nails into the eyeball; pushing back, grabbing hold of his nerve, and flinging him towards the front door. Sam hit it hard enough to knock it wide open, the eyeball screeching and spinning disoriented out into the hallway. Jackie didn’t dare pause and think before he acted. He reached for the large empty jar, headed for the exit, and right as the septic eye went to lunge at him, he swung the jar; sending the eyeball backward. A light spurt of slime hit the hero’s face at the impact. He heard a small whimper come from Sam, who had temporarily stopped in midair to rub at his own eyeball. When he blinked, Jackie caught sight of red blotches, evidence that a few blood vessels had popped from the collision.

  Sam blinked a few times before he turned toward his foe, hissing angrily with his nerve arched, ready to attack. Charging forth and growling, he took another blow from the jar, this time from above and with more force behind it. Another spurt of goo along with a petite amount of blood ejected from him. The optical organ hit the white-tiled floor of the hall, expelling a hybrid of a whine and snarl as a small amount of blood and goo oozed out of him onto the floor. He pried his eye open and scowled at the ego darkly, curling in on himself and hissing lowly. Jackie huffed and dropped to his knees, raising the jar above his head at the first sign of glitches breaking out across his friend. Sam’s form was briefly devoured by pixels, he went to move, and then he ate glass.

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Part 19 - Blood On Your Hands

Part 21 - The Hole at the Center of Everything

@hiraeyeths @cosmicvoyage @pagansheep @waitingfor-sunshine @deltastorm101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @haveaverynicetime-blog @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @cactoyote @sleep-ybitchenergy @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @ahalliance @vity-dream @thatcacidork @jacksinsanity @silvadraconis @adreamoverlife @viostormcaller @eldritchnebula @downed-crystals @umbralhelwolf @adizzycollegekid @kate807 @luckbandit @lisica-13 @nagrom10714 @anju-kurada

[11queensupreme11]

Hey, it's me again (nots sure if you remember, but if it helps refreshen your memory— I did get some professional help and all that). Still waiting for my exams to finish to publish Alabaster X OC one shot (by the way, thanking for allowing your characters to be written by others.) So, umm, having a writer's block but uhh....a headcanon to how they treat their s/o during HORRIBLE that time of the month 👀?? (Ethan, Étienne, Alabaster, Regulus, Hecate & Lou Ellen edition)? 😂 Thanks again

Writer's block is a BITCH smh 😔

Anyways, this is gonna be short because there's multiple ppl and in the last hc, I had too many words even tho I only wrote about two ppl, ugh I hate word limits.

(Étienne's ended up being longer, I just love writing about his crazy ass)

WARNING: some of these characters are just straight up cold 💀

ETHAN NAKAMURA

He's very practical so don't expect any of that nonsensical panicking and screaming bs

Ngl, he doesn't really know much about periods just that they: hurt, there's blood involved, and pads/tampons are needed

He won't go out of his way to do more research on it either, he'll just listen to his s/o and do whatever they want him to do ❤️

His attitude will be a bit softer though, and maybe a bit awkward, but he won't complain when his s/o asks him to do something. Chocolates, more pads/tampons, heat packs, all are provided by him 🥹

(All stolen tho, lmao, give him a break, he's broke 💔)

He'll definitely get frustrated if they were to give him any attitude, but he'll just grin and bear it (and by grin, I mean grimace)

7/10 caretaker! He'll get his s/o what they need, but don't expect him to completely baby them

REGULUS BLACK

You think he'll care?? HAH! Don't be delusional!

This man's a straight up misogynist, don't talk to him about your feminine woes! He'll give his s/o the dirtiest look if they were to try and tell him about their period

That's not his business to know and as a woman, his s/o should know better than to speak openly about such 'disgusting things'!

She better pray that his daughter's not around to hear her talk about it or else he'll get really pissed that she's trying to be a 'bad influence' to Essie

-10/10 caretaker. He won't care, and he'll punish his s/o for speaking out about it.

HECATE

Periods??? what's that???

Oh that's a mortal thing??? how weird

Goddesses aren't human so their biology will be DRASTICALLY different than mortals'. I headcanon that they don't ever have periods because can you actually imagine a goddess suffering through one??? nah

Sorry, but she's a goddess and she wouldn't give a single shit about her s/o going through their period

To her, it's just a 'weird thing mortals have to go through'

0/10 caretaker. She won't care, and if her s/o dares to try and "boss" her around, she'll most likely curse them

ÉTIENNE ROSIER

Ah, finally. Someone who'll care... except, he cares a little too much...

I highly doubt Beauxbatons (or any wizarding school tbh) covers sexual education or simple biology, so you best believe this boy doesn't know a single thing about periods. Sure he has sisters, but they're all terrified of him so ofc they won't talk to him about periods 💀

WHEN HE FINDS OUT THO... he'll definitely dote on his s/o to the extreme. He'll fret over them, give them everything they want, and smother them with cuddles and kisses. He'll do everything for them, they won't even have to lift a finger! He'll take care of it all, his s/o just needs to stay in bed and behave!

They were already coddled before, but now Étienne treats them like a helpless infant

RIP his s/o. They'll be absolutely suffocated by all his love and affection

BUT... the issue here are the mood swings. Obviously, his s/o's not gonna be happy with his clinginess and the lack of freedom, especially since he was already like that before. They'll snap at him eventually and that's when Étienne's more dangerous side comes out...

1/10 caretaker. He'll be way too doting and sweet, and super restrictive (but I gave him a point if you're into that). Plus, there's a good chance he might end up killing his s/o in another one of his 'WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME' temper tantrums

ALABASTER C. TORRINGTON

THIS MAN KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING 👏 GOD BLESS HIM

No fr, he had tons of little sisters and he had to take care of each and every one of them, so OF COURSE he would be the best caretaker when his s/o's on their period 💖💖💖

Tbh, he probably knows more about it than his own s/o lmao. He has their cycle on the calendar so when that particularly week gets closer, he'll be going up to them like "hey, do you have all the pads/tampons you need?? overnight pads??? heating packs?? pain killers?"

And they'll be like "h u h"

him: "ur periods gonna start in approximately 2 days, 49 minutes, and 10 seconds—"

his s/o: 👁👄👁

He's obsessed your honor, ofc he's gonna remember every single detail about his s/o 🙄

100/10 caretaker! Don't you just love a responsible man who knows more about your own body than you do???

LOU ELLEN BLACKSTONE

Our mentally sane lesbian queen 👑 the healthiest bitch in my book series asjehfasjh

She's a chill, 'if it happens, it happens' kinda girl so I don't see her putting down her own cycle in a calendar tbh, so she won't do the same thing with her girlfriend either (unlike Alabaster's obsessed ass)

When her girlfriend starts her period, she'll be super understanding of any mood swings and mishaps that happen!

Also, the best part is that she knows the spell needed to remove any embarrassing bloodstains! If her s/o ever starts bleeding through her jeans, she can easily use the Mist to make ppl forget they ever saw it and use a cleaning spell to help her! 💖

(We all wish we had a Lou Ellen in our life to be there for all those embarrassing moments 🥲)

Having a magical girlfriend who can alter people's minds is so useful if you're broke because SHE'LL EVEN STEAL PADS FOR YOU 😍

Periods are hurting you so bad that you might need to visit the doctor but can't because you live in America and that shit ain't free?? NO WORRIES! LOU ELLEN CAN JUST MIST THE WHOLE HOSPITAL TO GET YOU ALL THE CARE YOU NEED FOR FREE!!!!!

Capitalism < Lou Ellen

A perfect 10/10! Knows exactly how to take care of her s/o without having to be too overbearing, obsessed, or abusive! We stan a healthy queen 😌💖

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Unrequited?

A/N: Here is my entry for @hufflefluff-writer ‘s writing challenge! Sorry it’s so late!! I’ve bolded the prompts I chose. This was originally super angsty but I changed my entire plot at the last minute so now its *hopefully* a mix of everything. It isn't very long but nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy! 

Summary: Parties are always the catalyst for confessions.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unrequited feelings, a lil bit of angst

Word count: 1.5k

The library is silent as you finish the conclusion to your Charms essay. Your quill scratches against the parchment; a comforting sound to your ears.

“Why is it, whenever I look for you, you have your nose stuck in a book or you are finishing school work?” A familiar voice drawls; your heart beginning to race at the sound of it.

You look up from your work, meeting the bright blue eyes of Draco Malfoy. “I’m not sure, you only ever seem to seek me out when you want something.”

He puts a hand on his chest, “Now you wound me.”

“Oh please,” You say, rolling your eyes with a smile.

He grins at you, and you’re pretty sure he can hear how loud the beating of your heart has become. You curse yourself internally for letting him affect you this way.

“What do you want, Draco?”

He sits down across from you; his fingers tracing the age-old ink doodles on the table. “What makes you think I want something? Why can’t I just want to spend time with you?”

You feel your face flush, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Now I know you want something.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Alright, you caught me. We’re having a party in the common room tonight and I want you to come.”

You frown, “I don’t do parties, Draco, you know that.”

“I do, but still I’d like you to come… please?”

You stare at him, wondering whether you would ever have the strength to turn him down, “Have I ever told you no?”

Draco smiles; it’s his special smile that he only reserves for a couple of people – one of them being you. “I hope I’m not around for the day. You’re the best.”

“I know I am. I’ll see you tonight then?”

He nods, standing from his place at the table. “You will.”

Draco presses a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving. You watch him in shock as he saunters away.

You hold your hand to your cheek; feeling that all-too recognisable pang in your chest. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you had fallen in love with your best friend; just that you had. It must have been happening over some time as it didn’t feel like some world-changing revelation to you, but rather, something simmering deep within your bones. As if loving him was part of your very being. You couldn’t tell him your feelings for him for the fear of being rejected and losing him from your life altogether. A life without Draco Malfoy involved seemed like a pretty poor life in your opinion. He presented such a hard exterior to keep up the Malfoy reputation but the man behind the mask was much softer. It seemed almost inevitable that you fell in love with him.

You couldn’t help the small part of you that wished he felt the same way too.

---------------------------------------------------

Slytherin didn’t have parties that often; tending to think themselves above such rowdiness, but on the rare occasion they did – it was big.

Bodies were crushed in the centre of the common room where a makeshift dance floor had been set up. A radio had been found; volume turned all the way up as the latest wizard music charts played.

You sit on one of the many black leather couches that decorate the common room; a small glass of firewhisky in your hands that you nurse quietly as the party progresses.

Your eyes seek him out; they always do, as if they’re drawn to him, needing to see him to know that it’s okay.

You find him leaning against the further wall; dressed head to toe in his usual all-black outfit. A brunette girl leans in close to him, whispering something only he can hear. He smiles at her and you can feel your heart break.

The moment he leans in to kiss her, you have to leave the room. You can’t go through that again; you can’t watch him kiss another girl who isn’t you. It isn’t fair; you won’t do that to yourself.

You brush yourself down as you stand from the leather couch, handing your drink to your friend, “Here, you finish this. I’m done for the night.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, concern lining her features, “I can come with you.”

You shake your head, “Don’t worry about it, you have fun okay? Blaise has had his eye on you all night.”

She grins, flicking her eyes to where Blaise stands, “He has?”

You nod, patting her shoulder, “He’s over by the drinks. Go get him. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

You leave the common room; wanting fresh air more than anything in the world, including the blonde-haired teenager you had left behind.

The night air is cold, but it cools your overheated skin courtesy of the small amount of alcohol running through your veins. You felt downright awful; jealousy was rearing its ugly head within you, having you despise the girl on the receiving end of Draco’s kiss. It wasn’t her fault; she had done nothing wrong.

You sit down in the entrance to the courtyard; releasing a breath and wishing you had grabbed your jacket before leaving the common room. The pale light of the moon has washed the courtyard in a pale grey hue – as if all the colour had been leeched from the world. It was oddly comforting. You sit there moving your eyes around the courtyard, focusing on different spots; breathing through the emotions raging inside you.

You hear his footsteps before his voice. You have the sudden urge to cry.

“There you are,” Draco greets, voice filled with relief, “I was looking for you.”

“Really? You looked to be too busy to notice my absence.” You cringe at the blatant jealous lacing your tone.

“I always notice you.”

“Don’t do this, Draco. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Do what?”

“This,” You say, gesturing between your bodies, “Where you act like this and I have to pretend that I’m not in love with you.”

He’s silent; sitting down next to you on the cold ground. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.” He confesses to the night air.

“For how long. How long have you bottled this up?” You demand.

“I didn’t realise my feelings for you until a few months ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice breaking as you question him; so many thoughts running through your mind.

Draco remains silent; picking at invisible loose threads of his trousers. You sigh, placing your hand on top of his, rubbing your thumb across his hand in a comforting motion.

“Draco, why didn’t you say anything?”

He refuses to meet your eyes as he whispers, “I was scared.”

“What were you scared of?”

He gestures between your bodies, just as you did moments ago. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have. Our friendship means so much to me; I didn’t want to ruin it with my feelings.”

“Draco, I’ve just told you I’m in love with you.”

He nods, “It’s why I can’t keep kissing strangers anymore. I thought if I kissed someone else I wouldn’t have feelings for you anymore. And our friendship wouldn't be ruined.” He groans, “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Did it work? Kissing someone else?”

Draco shakes his head, “If anything it made them stronger. I’d think about what you would feel like to kiss – how you would respond, and I’d pull away more lovesick than ever.”

“Why don’t you find out?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Daring him to make the first move.

“What?”

You shift slight, angling your body towards him, “Kiss me, Draco.”

His hands cradle your face as he leans in. He pauses slightly, checking for permission despite you verbalising it. You respond by titling your face to his, brushing your lips against his ever so lightly.

The feel of your lips is what spurs him on to kiss you more firmly. It’s too much and too little all at once. Your arms wrap around his neck, to pull yourself closer to him. To feel even more of him against you. Every single emotion you had ever felt for the other is being poured into this kiss; unrelenting emotion and passion shared between the two of you as you take Draco’s bottom lip between your teeth and bite down. His answering moan sends shivers from your head to your toes.

He’s addicting; he’s a drug and you’ve craved him for months.

So much is defined by this kiss; it’s the shift from friendship to love. To letting those feelings that you’ve had for Draco encompass you entirely. Letting yourself be consumed by the love you feel for the blonde-haired teenager.

You pull away first, “Well?”

Draco grins wickedly, “I think we’re going to have to try again.”

You laugh, pushing his shoulder lightly, “Smooth, Malfoy.”

His face softens; his eyes filling with the love he feels for you, “I do love you; you know? The girl at the party meant nothing.”

“Really?”

He nods, “I only want you. You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say you feel the same way. What would you say to us giving this a try? Let me take you on a date to Hogsmeade so we can start this properly?”

You smile at him, “I’m still not able to tell you no.”

His answering smile is mesmerising. The grin lighting up his whole face as leans in to kiss you again. Kissing you deeply, lovingly. All doubts about his feelings for you are scattered from your mind as his arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him.

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

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz @kylosleftbuttcheek @heloisedaphnebrightmore

 Draco Malfoy taglist: @cheapglitter @the--queen-of-hell

[mittensmorgul]

hey mittens! i know you’ve written off the finale at this point (and haven’t we all), but i was just wondering: do we know whose idea it was to have kripke co-write that ep? because like, in hindsight, that was...a choice, and i’ve been thinking that might explain SOME of the weirdness of that ep (emphasis on SOME because uh. i really do think that some of the cringiest details didn’t come from writers at all). anyway—thoughts?

I don’t think Kripke had anything to do with writing the final ep. It just... felt like a Kripke ep, and I’m starting to think that Dabb did that intentionally. He’s the most meta writer the show might’ve ever had, and in refusing to allow Sam and Dean to live out past their ultimate victory, in choosing to “force an ending” on the characters instead of leaving their world “open” with no concrete ending, he succeeded at the task that Chuck- as Kripke’s avatar in the original story of Supernatural-- had failed to do.

Dabb, in a very real sense, is the one who “ended the story of Supernatural.” He wanted to bring it full circle, to “close the universe” and make it “reboot-proof.” This is something he’s talked about going back as far as SDCC 2019, and many of us had hoped that would mean something “better” than what Chuck wanted for the Winchesters, and for Cas.

I was hoping, and watching the show for the last few years under the assumption that Dabb’s in-story avatar was more a combination of different characters. At first, Billie, who started as a reaper but was elevated to the role of Death (like Dabb himself started as a writer who became more important to the telling of the tale, and eventually became the final showrunner who would eventually reap the show in the end, as it were).

After Jack’s introduction, I wondered if he was going to “grow into the role” of the Authorial Avatar. After all, he served as a mirror for all three other characters, reflecting their stories back at them and allowing them to process their own emotional and psychological issues by helping Jack through them. I wrote long ago, back in s13, how this enabled TFW to sort of graduate from student to master, in the martial arts sense of the word, because one truly only completes learning a thing through the process of teaching others.

And then the Empty became involved as an actual being that manifested through the identities of others, and didn’t really have its own identity other than “I need to sleep, stop disturbing me!” which... felt like it might’ve become relevant when Jack’s power was able to break through into its realm.

Then these three beings began plotting the final overthrow of the Original Author. One laid claim to the lives of Sam and Dean (Billie), one laid claim to Castiel (the Empty). We watched Jack-- the incarnation of “balance” and the vehicle through which the show demonstrated what the human soul’s function is, what the function of angelic grace WITHOUT a human soul’s function is, and what Jack as a whole being with both actually is, as he fully came to his own understanding of what humanity, human love, and the responsibility and function of cosmic power and balance is within himself.

I never doubted (especially after he consumed Michael’s grace and made that power his own) that Jack’s function would be as the ultimate role that Chuck had been trying to force on Dean since s11-- “the firewall between light and darkness.” That Jack would be the crucible to fully unite the power embodied in Amara and Chuck. Chuck’s ending was about as poetic as it gets, and I 100% appreciate Jack’s “end” in the narrative that isn’t really an end for him, because the story also implied that Chuck’s original “problem” stemmed from his wanting to give himself an ego and play with his own creation like so many tinkertoys, to force his will on a universe he created to be ruled by the will of others. 

The ultimate act of Team Free Will left Chuck fully human and an effectively blank book, with no power to force anyone else to play his games. Excellent, right? Poetic even!

But the story wasn’t really over, because in our world, there was one more episode, a coda fic if you will. And all of the characters I’d associated with Dabb-as-avatar were... rendered mute. Billie was dead or dying in the Empty, Jack came into his full power and had already healed the universe, implying that the Empty’s conditions were fulfilled and could finally go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Chuck’s Book, while appearing blank, still contained all the words. Only Death could read them, and as far as we know, nobody in that universe had ascended to that role. But in our universe, we know that’s Dabb’s function in the narrative. What sort of ending could he write?

Most of us hoped that it would be a “once more, with feeling” sort of “you can finally lay down your arms and make a new life for yourself” ending. Many of us were baffled first off that Jack wouldn’t have brought Cas back from the Empty to Earth. We never really had a satisfactory explanation in canon of what happened there. Was Cas actually dead? What function does he have if he’s in Heaven? Has he been relegated to a role of duty and service as punishment for daring to yearn for human things? It just... it felt like the final stab from a story that had just told us that he truly has been the one disrupting for in Chuck’s story, that he was something that Chuck could never force out of the story or control, who demonstrated free will and learned to love humanity because of Dean, and yet doomed to never have that for himself. Most of us felt that line in 15.18 deserved subversion in the aftermath, and yet we never even get concrete confirmation that he’s even really alive in the same way he was before. It’s... what Chuck always wanted for Cas, to shunt him out of the story and render him powerless and plotless.

What did Chuck want for Sam and Dean? What story did he force them into over and over again? One of them tragically dead and the other miserable and mourning. He wrote billions of iterations of this exact story, over and over throughout billions of universes created for the sole purpose of doing exactly this to every incarnation of Sam and Dean he possibly could. Most of us hoped this might be the ONE universe where that was subverted, like it was the ONE universe where Castiel refused to fall in line with Heaven’s orders and plans. But nope, Dean died tragically (almost immediately after saying in canon that the only way they could honor Cas and Jack’s sacrifices for them was to keep living), and Sam lived a rather bleak and hollow life where the only thing we know he did was to raise a son named for his dead brother.

Chuck would’ve been freaking DELIGHTED!

Which... brings us to Heaven... where we get the vague hint that Cas “helped” Jack “knock down the walls” and make it a paradise that Dean would love and feel rewarded by. We never actually find out what role Cas played in that, or if he was also there in some capacity. But how I’ve always personally understood Heaven as it was in Chuck’s creation, was as a self-sustaining and ever expanding Destiny Generator, like a power generator or a giant battery where each Heaven Cubicle functioned as a cell. The show itself has been using the soul-as-power-source for ages (it was pretty much the running theme of s6-- it’s the souls!-- and this theme was returned in force in s11, culminating in the “soul bomb” plot of (gasp!) Andrew Dabb’s season finale.

Heaven was beginning to break down as a “machine” and a power generator not for lack of human souls, but for lack of angels to maintain the structure of heaven itself. In one of his first episodes, Cas even described the function of angels as being “agents of fate.” Their sole role was to literally “hold Chuck’s narrative together.” Metaphorically in the story-- in the original Apocalypse as the guides who tried to force Sam and Dean into the roles they were destined for-- as well as metaphorically in Heaven which was the “battery” that gave the angels their power in the first place. Remember what happened to Cas when he has been “cut off from Heaven” and began to lose his powers.

So the way I’d always understood the function of Heaven in Chuck’s story was exactly that. Without Chuck’s narrative, the walls would fall and the paradise Jack’s birth heralded would come to fruition THERE. Because as long as there is life, and free will, and more than one person on EARTH, that sort of paradise is an impossible dream. We’re seeing that exemplified now in real life, actually, with people claiming their rights and freedoms are being infringed upon by being asked to wear a mask and limit their social interactions to prevent the spread of a deadly virus. Does their “freedom” override the “freedom” of others who would prefer to remain alive and not infected by a virus that could kill them? It’s an impossible balance, because true freedom cannon exist in life without compromise and sacrifice.

Which brings us to Dean, and his essential humanity, which had been exemplified in his selfless love of humanity so strong that he became a cosmic disrupting force of his own by simply refusing to let Chuck’s story defeat him. He struggled with this throughout s15 as Chuck told him that his life had never truly been his own, and that he’d always been a character in a bigger story. He’d finally begun to feel at peace with who he was, with the family he’d made for himself, and everything and every experience he’d endured that had shaped him into the person he’d become, and Chuck’s revelation led him to doubt everything. In the end, he was finally able to see what truly DID matter, what really WAS real (thank you to 15.17 for confirming that Cas was one of those things that Chuck had also never intended to be part of his story, and that Cas truly had always chosen Dean freely, because his doubt of Cas was one of the main things hurting Dean in s15, epitomized in his crisis in 15.09 in Purgatory). So the fact that Cas was not “allowed” to come back to Dean afterward feels... punitive. The fact that Dean was not “allowed” to actually experience a real human life on the Earth he’d devoted his entire life to saving, the fact that Sam was never able to achieve peace and happiness in a life he’d struggled to find balance between a destiny he’d never wanted and a normalcy that had been merely performative for decades because shoving the majority of his life experience down to play at being “normal” was never truly possible, and required truly accepting all of himself to actually free himself from the half-life we saw him live after Dean’s death... all of that just... it’s exactly what Chuck would’ve wanted for all three of them.

And it’s depressing af, that when given the power to “end the story of Team Free Will,” Dabb chose to enact Chuck’s final draft, rather than handing blank books to these three to write their own lives. And it just looks like Kripke’s writing, because it kind of is his story. We just hoped it wasn’t, and that the final avatar of The Author in the story would be TFW themselves. But that was probably never meant to be. Because destiny is apparently still stronger than human free will, and isn’t that just depressing af.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter One

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Fluff

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Domestic Yoonmin, fluff, Jimin is literally too good for this world, barista boys, swearing, mild language, lots of character development, realistic insecurities, Jungkook makes a bad decision.

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 6k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

Masterlist

Author Note: This story is available on my archiveofourown as well so go check it out!

⇤Prev | Next⇥

                             ______________________________

“Do it.” Your friend pushes you towards the incredibly adorable busboy as he passes by your table.

“No, it’s stupid.”

“Y/N, I dared you. Now you have to do it.” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not even how dares work.” You lay back in your chair, eyes drifting over to the two handsome men who now stand talking at the cash register.

“Okay, fine, if you can’t have a conversation, at least get his number! I’ll go for that cute barista over there with the sleepy eyes.” How can eyes be sleepy? You shrug as she confidently strides to the counter to order another drink. Jasmine has always been the type of girl to tell people what she’s feeling in the heat of the moment. You had no idea where she got her confidence from, it just happened one fine summer day in sixth grade. 

You’ve been best friends ever since you moved into the house across the street, along with Jaehyun and Jungkook. They are the non-identical twins that go to your school and the four of you were a group all through middle school. Things changed after highschool, Jae started hanging out with the wrong crowd and he moved out after saving up some drug money. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is still a sweetheart, protecting you and Jasmine as if you were his sisters. Sometimes you wonder how you even became friends with this meth-head of a girl, but then you realize you’re the same, you both are crackheads and that’s why you’re best friends. You sometimes doubt your friendship when she tries to push you out of your comfort zone. You hate opening up to people, and Jasmine knows it. 

Yet, she still tries pushing you towards trying new things and being more extroverted. Your mind is already buzzing with a million different ways this can go wrong, but you’re surprised when the waiter approaches you with a smile on his face. I wonder if he’s truly happy or putting on a fake smile for the customers. You think to yourself. Sometimes you like to look at people and try putting together a life story for them. It helps your creative juices flow, as an amateur writer. 

“Can I get you anything else?” He asks with a refreshingly soft voice for a man. You’re a bit taken aback by his melodic tone, and how freaking adorable he sounds with his Korean accent. You can’t tell what dialect it is, because his English flows very well.

“Actually…” You look over at Jasmine, who gives you a thumbs up as she sips her Pink Drink. “Can I have your number?” The man’s eyes widen momentarily and his gaze flickers up to the barista at the counter.

“Oh...Miss I’m very flattered but...see that man over there?” You turn around and face the barista who is busy on his phone at the moment.

“The sleepy-eyed one?” You ask, knowing full well where this is going.

“Yeah, him. Um, that’s my boyfriend.” Your smile falters for a moment but you feel a sudden sense of relief. You were afraid he would actually flirt back and possibly be a douchebag but he is exactly what you hoped he would be. A decent person who won’t cheat on his partner.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Your reaction makes him raise his eyebrows. Normally girls would sigh or be sad that he’s taken/gay, but you’re the first one who’s ever reacted like that. “I mean, sorry. My friend just forced me to ask for your number because she wants me to make friends and step out of my comfort zone, and now I’m...sorry just nevermind.” You trail off, cutting off your pointless rambling as the busboy wipes your table slightly.

“Hm, you’re interesting. You know what, just for that attempt, I am going to give you my number.” He winks at you, sliding you a piece of paper. Did he always have that paper with him? You laugh as he walks away and Jasmine bolts back to your table, excited to hear the juicy details.

“You did it!” She screeches, making half of the people whip their heads around to stare at you. You blush and sink in your seat when you see the adorable busboy speaking to his boyfriend. Just when you’re about to tell Jasmine what happened, you see the sleepy-eyed man look at you with a glare. You bite your teeth and suck in your cheeks as Jasmine starts talking about her encounter. 

“Too bad, though. The sleepy dude just waved me away saying he already has a boyfriend.” She folds her arms. You stretch your legs, yawning a bit as you listen to your friend. “What? Am I boring you? Anyways, tell me what happened with the cute blue haired dude!” You giggle to yourself as your friend expected something more out of the interaction.

“Jasmine, he’s gay. And they’re-” You gesture to the two men talking behind the counter. “Together.” Jasmine sighs. You simply shake your head, flipping your hair to one side.

“Well, I guess my luck with men hasn’t changed. But at least they’re cute.” You giggle as your best friend sighs dramatically and then you move onto discussing other topics, like school. 

Just as you’re about to exit the café, you realize that you didn’t ask the cute busboy for his name. During the whole five minutes that you talked to him, you didn’t even introduce yourself?! Great job, Y/N. You turn around, reaching for the piece of paper in your pocket to find that he indeed did write his name down for you. Jimin. What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy. 

As you climb into the jeep that Jasmine’s parents bought for her 16th birthday, her phone rings, and she turns to you, puffing out her chest. You wiggle your eyebrows at her and then you both laugh after the awkward moment.

“It’s Jungkook.” She throws her phone at you, switching back to her “serious” persona.

“Whoa, what happened between you two for you to act this way?” You give Jasmine the stink eye as she caves under your pressure. She’s acting weird—weirder than usual. 

“Nothing, just...ugh.” She clicks her seatbelt in and starts backing out of the parking lot. 

“Jasmine, if you don’t tell me I’m gonna jump out the window. And we both know I’m not bluffing because I’m actually really short and this window is huge.” Her eyes widen in panic and her hands start shaking on the steering wheel.

“You see…..um ....Jungkook and I may or may not have gone all the way after a deep conversation about relationships.” I gawk at her, unable to process her words. 

Sure JK is a flirt, but he never would’ve moved past touching, seeing how he’s practically scared of girls. There was even a point in your middle school lives where Jasmine believed he was gay and started calling him her “gbf.” Yeah, that wasn’t greatly received by your homophobic class of 2020.

“Bitch, you did not.” You slap the dashboard, shaking your head in disbelief. You can see guilt written all over her face but what’s worse is the fact that you had a crush on him for the longest time and she had no clue about it. 

It’s not her fault, but sex can change a lot of things for different people. And you know despite whatever bullshit Jasmine tells you about it being a ‘one-time thing no feelings involved’ type deal, you know things are going to change between you, Jasmine, and Jungkook. 

You don’t know how anyone will react, since you’ve never been in this situation before. You just know that your best friend, without even knowing it, broke your heart in two. Including Jungkook’s, who is probably crying by himself at the moment.

Your silence is enough to shut her up, as she stops talking mid-sentence and plays an EXO song on her phone, hooked up to the lavish quality stereo system which is connected to her fancy Jeep Wrangler, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine but you assume that’s from your gut, twisting in disgust planning for revenge with Jasmine. She has no regard for feelings when it comes to sex, and you’re more worried about your other best friend at the moment.

“Drop me off at JK’s place.” Your command makes her flinch, and then her eyes widen when she digests what you said.

“You aren’t going to tell him that I told you, are you?” 

“Of course I’m gonna talk to him about it! While you’re over here thinking about how to end your friendship, that boy is probably breaking down in tears right now, or worse, binge eating and watching soapy K-dramas all alone!” 

You slam her car door shut, stepping out with your red converse basking in the sunlight. It’s so bright out today, a little bit chilly but otherwise nice. Too bad Jungkook’s having a rainy day. You knock on his door, and his brother opens the door.

“Hey baby. Wanna join me and my buddie-”

“Yeah, nice to see you too Jaehyun, is Jungkook home?” You ask, pushing past him and his stoner pals on the couch.

“He’s upstairs.” There’s not much that needs to be said when you walk into his room.

As expected, he’s lying in his bed, blankets wrapped around his entire body, forming a cocoon of some sort as he distracts himself from the real world, again. It’s like every breakup ever, as you have seen him do all sorts of crazy shit while being heartbroken. He’s dated so many people, but none of them were his close friends. This time, it’s different, and you can tell he’s hurting more.

“Did you see Jasmine?” Is the first thing he asks when he sees you.

“I was with her earlier and she told me some stuff happened between you guys. And now I’m here for you. Tell me what you need.” Jungkook slowly rises, and you can see his hair standing straight up from the static, and his normally bright eyes are colored red from crying, his cheeks are red and puffy, and he looks exhausted. Drained, in fact.

“I made a mistake. I started kissing her first, it was like the time after my breakup with Madi-” He cuts himself off. You shiver, beginning to remember his touch. You hadn’t slept with him, not in a sexual context, anyway. He only kissed you, and his hands slid down the small of your back, tracing circles with his thumbs. You can feel the strange sensation creeping up on you, and then it hits you like a wave. 

Jungkook is no longer the little boy that you once knew. He’s a grown man, and he can take care of you if you let him. But, you’re not that type of person. You would never take advantage of him, especially when he’s so vulnerable. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let it get in the way of our friendship, but after that night I knew we could never be just friends.” You take his clammy hands in your soft ones, kissing his fingers gently as tears threaten to spill from his eyes again.

“It’s okay, let it out.” You spend a good chunk of your time cuddling with him, and for a moment you imagine what life would be like if you actually started dating, but alas, he is too in love with your best friend. That’s how life is for you, you’ll always be a side character in a love story, and when it comes to love, guys always pick Jasmine. Guys talk to you because they see that you are friends with Jasmine. Girls invite you to sleepovers to ask you what you know about Jasmine, and worst of all, she stole multiple crushes from under your nose. But they were never truly yours to begin with. 

After arriving at your house after a long day spent consoling Jungkook, youlop down on your bed, scrolling through some texts. 

                   ༻• The Next Day, at Your Local Highschool •༺

“Jungkookie, are you feeling any better?” You make your way to your best friend but then you overhear him speaking to some people.

“Oh yeah, she was the best in bed, don’t let her tough smart-girl act fool you, she was amazing, so submissive for me.” You hoped they were talking about someone else, but when you stick your head past the lockers, checking for a split second, you see that it was none other than your sensitive friend who was speaking to a group of younger males.

“Wow, you’re so cool, Hyung. I thought Y/N was the hardest girl to pin down.” Wait, what?! You resist the urge to storm out, eavesdropping a bit longer to see if you misheard things.

“Yeah boys, she came to me while I was playing Overwatch in my room and then she offered. Just straight up asked if I could fuck her.” You slam your fist against a locker and then you clench your teeth, about to confront him when the bell rings. 

It’s 5th period. You don’t have a class because you have a release period. You instinctively check your phone, making sure you didn’t miss any important texts or calls before running out. You don’t know who to trust, or who to go to, as you lost your two best friends within the span of less than 24 hours. People suck.

Then you get a text, as you park your car in front of the coffee shop.

You don’t text back, hoping to surprise him. You forgot to ask him about his work hours but you assumed he worked part-time everyday or something. As you walk up to the counter, you see him standing there, with a bright smile on his lips and crescent-shaped eyes.

“Ah, what a surprise! Hello, valued customer.” His playful attitude is enough to light up your day. 

“Hey Jimin. Sorry for dropping in but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, c-can we talk?” You stutter, not realizing you were slurring your words together. Jimin nods, obviously worried about his new friend.

“What happened yesterday?” He takes you to the back of the café, an area where there are less people and you have more privacy. 

“You know the friend that was here with me yesterday?” He nods, allowing you to grip his hand and squeeze it for comfort. He’s a really kind person, letting you open up to him without judgement. “She slept with another good friend of mine and ghosted him. And yesterday I went to his house and we talked about it and he cried on my shoulder, but today…” 

You feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “...He was talking about what a good lay I was, lying about sleeping with me to a group of underclassmen.” 

Your breathing is uneven as Jimin stares directly at you, keeping his gaze strictly on you. You feel naked, exposed, and vulnerable. But his reassuring smile makes you feel a little bit better. Just a little bit.

“Hey, break’s over, get out there.” You see the same man from yesterday, the guy who Jimin claimed was his boyfriend. He looks like the polar opposite of your mellow friend, with a darker aura radiating from him. 

You feel like a deer under a lion’s gaze, as he closes in on you, backing you into your corner, making you feel even more vulnerable than before.

You only hoped he wouldn’t try to chase you away, as yesterday he gave you a very uncouth glare, displaying his annoyance with your friendship with Jimin.

You hope with time he will be able to accept you and possibly become a friend of yours as well, but for now, you can only run with your tail tucked between your legs. Just as you’d been running away from your so-called best friends in school. 

You were even considering running to Jaehyun and trying one of his edibles, since he had offered a generous amount of times; it would only be courteous of you to finally accept and try it, as you’d been hearing “don’t try it, don’t try it,” your whole life. 

You don’t care anymore, and hopefully under Jimin’s wing you will be able to learn about true friendship. 

“Aren’t you the girl who asked for Jimin’s number yesterday?” His surprisingly solemn tone catches you off guard, as his eyes tell another story. Maybe that’s just the way he is, physically a very intimidating person but on the inside he might be a fluffy kitten! Okay, maybe not a total kitten, but still squishy. Why else would Jimin date him? He has to be a decent person, unlike all the people you called your friends.

“I am, thanks for noticing. Is there anything you wanted to tell me?” You try to sound as non-threatening as possible, holding your breath, waiting for an answer. You hoped Yoongi didn’t see you as a boyfriend-stealer, nor a generally annoying person.

“No, just wanted to ask you if you need anything else, an iced coffee, some tea...pink lemonade?” His lame attempt at cheering you up makes you crack a smile after a while. 

“Maybe some water? I’m a little bit thirsty.” 

“Coming right up,” After filling up a glass with water, he slides into the seat across from you, whipping out his phone and humming a tune of a familiar song you recognized from the radio. “I’m on break. This time of the day, things get a bit slow.” You nod in understanding, respectfully keeping your legs crossed and your arms folded in your lap, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.

“What song are you listening to?” You ask, hoping to make some small talk.

“Uncomfortable by Chase Atlantic. It’s my go-to after a stressful day.” You shift in your seat when you hear that name. You absolutely adore that band, and the lead singer’s vocals are absolutely heavenly. You could go on for hours, but you don’t want him to know that yet.

“Oh, that’s...cool I guess.” You try not to jump

up and down in joy as that’s a lesser known band and not very many people know about them.

“Do you know this song?” He leans forward, sliding you his phone and showing you the cover of an old album, one you recognize to be “Don’t Try This,” and the song is GREENGREENGREEN. Their song titles are a bit questionable, but they are true works of art, so you can let it pass.

“I suppose I’ve heard it once or twice…” You trail off, watching how the curve of his smooth lips turn upwards, and carefully, you watch how he mouths the words.

“All I see is green yuh

Moving on your seat yuh yuh yuh

All I see is green, All I see is green, All I see is green.” You smirk, slowly singing the next part.

“It's green where the grass grows

Let the cash flow

You can keep your head high, keep that ass low,” You laugh, the man across from you grinning at how weirdly you sang the lyrics.

You and Yoongi continue listening to Chase Atlantic songs together late into the evening hours. It’s around seven in the evening and the air is cool and humid.

“You have amazing taste in music, I’ve never met anyone else who listens to Chase Atlantic with such passion! Jimin’s an Alec Benjamin person but I always tell him they have similar music styles…” He trails off suddenly, worrying you with the pace of his cutoff. “Listen, I had a lot of fun talking to you. And at first I really didn’t get why Jimin wanted to get to know you better but now I see what he saw. You’re cool, Y/N.” You’re more surprised he remembered your name.

“Thanks Yoongi.” You share a moment of silence, just smiling at each other as Jimin makes his way back to your table.

“It’s time for me to clock out, we’re closing soon.” He slides into the seat across from you, next to Yoongi, and you watch as Yoongi expertly sneaks his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, and you feel small fireworks bursting in your heart. It’s not a weird feeling of jealousy, per say, but rather you feel mellow. You like seeing them together. You like this. 

“Feels like just yesterday I walked in here and you gave me black coffee instead of an iced vanilla mocha because you were distracted by my sexiness.” Jimin girlishly flips his hair, and the three of you share a laugh before the lights start flickering. 

“What’s going on?”

“Looks like there’s something wrong with the power. Jin!!! Did you mess with the electrical again?!” Yoongi runs back inside the kitchen, making sure everything is fine.

“We’re good, just a minor fix,” you hear the voice of another man from inside. You and Jimin exchange worried looks as the lights stay on for a total of 1.032342352 seconds and then they just turn off completely.

“Dammit, stupid thunderstorm outside caused a power outage through town.” You heard Yoongi cursing from the kitchen before he opened the door and stumbled outside back to you.

“Well, when are the lights gonna come back on?” You ask, clutching onto the table as you sink back on the wooden surface.

“News reports say power lines are under service and will be back in function in an hour.” Jimin shows you the article, making you shiver from the thought of spending the night at the café. You most probably won’t have to do that, since your car is right outside and you can just drive home. But do you really want to face your neighbors after a really tough day of school? No. Your bets are that they will probably try to infiltrate your home, failing are trying to “make it up to you.” You’ve lost any trust you had in them before, Jungkook and Jasmine really screwed up this time.

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jimin sounds steady, but you can faintly see the outline of his striped shirt and how his muscles contract as he shivers right in front of you. You admire him for putting up the dauntless act, but it doesn’t help as the sound of his teeth clashing give it all away.

“Here, take my jacket. I’m not that cold.” You offer him your coat and he hesitantly slips it over his shoulders. He doesn’t wear it, afraid of stretching out the expensive material and risking threat or wearing it out. 

“Thanks.” 

“Hey guys, can you come in here please? We need help with the door.” You and Jimin carefully make your way to the pantry, which is at a door at the end of the kitchen. You’d never been inside one in a restaurant, but you assumed it was the same as your school. The kitchen was the darkest room, but thanks to the dim lighting from Jimin’s phone, you safely arrived at the end of the path.

“What are you doing now?” You see a second man, taller than Yoongi and Jimin combined, holding a large box.

“We’re just taking this inside. This stuff is smelly, so we make sure they stay sealed in the pantry until we need them,” The older man has a charming smile, and you can already tell he is a gentleman. He looks a little bit older than you, but you can tell by his mannerisms that he’s a bit older. “And hi, I’m Jin.” He introduces himself, winking at you as he walks past, with Yoongi rolling his eyes at the lame flirting attempt. You thought it was cute.

“Coming through! Move over babe.” Yoongi warns Jimin, who holds the door open while you watch over his shoulder, making sure he doesn’t fall back. Not that you will be of any help.

“Oh crap, I think I forgot something in the kitchen!” You and Jimin make your way into the pantry, shrugging at the way Jin quickly left his post.

“So...what’s exactly in the box?” Your curiosity seems to know no limits as you keep asking questions, over and over again. Yoongi and Jimin, however, find it amusing.

“Vinaigrette. All the same type, same brand.” Yoongi dusts his hands and walks back to the closed door, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal knob before turning it….to find that it doesn’t open. 

“What’s wrong, hyung?” Jimin asks, wrapping your jacket around him more tightly. You sigh at his adorable pout. But of course, you try to ignore their moment, focusing on your phone instead. Your battery is at 8% already, and you need to save as much power as you can. However, you also need to distract yourself.

“It won’t open.” You stand up. You’ve hated small spaces since you were a little girl and you refuse to get stuck in a food pantry with two insanely attractive men. What if you run out of oxygen? It’s not them, it’s you.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Yoongi notices your mini panic attack, as you pant heavily, now looking for some sort of opening to crawl through. You need to escape.

“I need to get out!” You shudder as the dim lighting of your phone suddenly disappears. Your phone just died. What the fuck are you going to do now?!

“We’re fine, we just need to call Jin,” Yoongi knocks on the door, and you all stay quiet to hear any feedback. What you didn’t know was that Jin had gone out to run errands and he wouldn’t be back until much later.

“Let me text him.” Luckily, Jimin’s phone has enough power to send one text. Jin replies quickly, telling Jimin that he’ll be back in half an hour, maybe even later because of the horrible weather.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck here for awhile.” Yoongi sits down on the floor first, making himself comfortable between two flour bags. You and Jimin make yourselves comfortable on the floor, shrugging as you snuggle into some things but the lights are off so you have no idea where you’re sitting. Your eyes are adjusted to the darkness, so you can see the faint outlines in the pitch darkness. 

Then you think of all the things that happened today. How you overheard Jungkook telling people lies, and how heartlessly Jasmine let go of him (even though he partially deserved it), and all of the lies and betrayal. Jasmine has cheated on a lot of her past boyfriends, but for some reason you thought she would treat Jungkook differently. And Jungkook just cares about fitting in. You wish you could forget it all and go back to being friends, but you are just so, so sad. They broke your heart. You don’t know if you can trust anyone else ever again. You silently sob, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

But your stupid sniffles give you away. 

“Are you..crying?” Jimin asks after a long silence.

“No…” You wipe your tears and turn to his voice.

“Tell us what’s wrong.” Yoongi’s warmth creates an almost suffocating feeling in the air as your breathing falters and you feel very disconnected from your environment. You can’t even tell if your eyes are open or not because of how long you’ve been trapped. It’s driving you mad. The only thing keeping you sane are the two men sitting in front of you...or behind you. You can’t tell anymore.

“I just want my friends back. And I want to believe that everything will be alright but lately...everything’s been horrible! Life just keeps throwing one obstacle after another and I just want to believe that everything will be okay but it isn’t! My best friend slept with my other best friend and now everything’s weird between the three of us, and my other friend decided to tell everyone that we’re screwing. I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! Everything is spiraling out of control and I can’t do shit,” You breathe heavily and silence follows, as the boys allow you to catch your breath, not inputting anything just yet. “Thanks for letting me rant. I just needed to let that out, I guess.” You bite your bottom lip, and you can smell the anticipation in the air as the boys wait for their turn to speak.

Oh wow, now you’ve robbed them of their words. Aren’t you the best friend ever.

“Can I say something?” Jimin waits for a moment before dictating his thoughts, “It sounds like you were just thrown into a random mess that had nothing to do with you directly.” He says, earning a cough from Yoongi. Luckily, the sleepy-eyed man is kind enough to cough in his sleeve (ugh corona) and he says, “I agree with Jimin. And that guy sounds like a bitch boy. I’m pretty sure he’s one of those coconut headed e-boy wannabes. Or just a plain fuckboy.” You scrunch your nose. “Jungkook isn’t like that.” 

“Oh, with a name like that he’s bound to have a talent. Maybe he dances really well? Lemme guess, he’s a really good singer but is as shy as a goat.” You didn’t know goats were shy. Yoongi seems knowledgeable, so you don’t question him.

“He’s a good singer, alright, but he wants to be a progamer when he graduates.” You reveal it to them, all of a sudden going off on a tangent about your childhood crush and best friend.

“It sounds like you guys are close,” Jimin whispers in a hushed voice, so quietly that you almost miss him. “And from what I can tell, he’s insecure and wants people to think he’s cool. So he used you, as stupid as it was, I think he’s worth fighting for.” You feel a sudden lightness in your chest, like you just confessed something you felt guilty about. It’s as if he’s in your head, and he understands exactly what you’re going through.

“Jimin and I actually got together because of a misunderstanding in the first place, if he hadn’t fought for us, who knows where he might’ve ended up?” You can’t see what Jimin does exactly, but you assume that his face is scrunched up into a cute cringe of sorts, anything that man does is adorable.

“My parents would’ve forced me to become a pastor. They aren’t exactly the most open-minded people...coming out to them was the hardest thing I ever did. And luckily, Yoongi was with me all through the process after they disowned me and threw me out of the house. I guess I lost my biological family but I ended up with something even better.” You feel your lips turn upward, the first feeling you’ve experienced since sadness. You feel hopeful, and happy that the two men can freely be together without judgement from those around them. 

You feel slightly jealous as well, since their relationship worked out and yours with Jungkook are in shambles. Maybe it’s not too late to fix this, but seeing as he hadn’t even sent you as much as a “Good morning” text, you decided it was better to leave him alone for now. The darkness is not only making you blind; it’s making you unempathetic. You do feel a bit of fear though, as the sense of not knowing what else might be in here with you is overwhelming and you literally want to curl into a ball and cry. “Your breathing is heavy again...are you okay?” Yoongi’s voice soothes you as you slowly recover from the mini-panic attack. You don’t know if you can take it anymore.

“Sorry, I’m just a little claustrophobic.” You hear some shifting as Yoongi makes himself more comfortable.

“Oh shit, I forgot about Jin,” Jimin pulls out his phone, as it vibrates with a text. Your vision is blurry, but you can see his face with the help of the dim light from his device. “Jin said he’s running late in traffic. We might be stuck for a little longer.” You snap, reaching for the closest thing to you, standing up on your two wobbly legs.

“I can’t do this! I’m going crazy, I need to get out! Anything...away….can’t breathe!” You start taking deep breaths, slightly embarrassed at showing the two boys you barely know your weak side. Of course, they are absolute sweethearts about it.

“Honja jjujeo anja

Saenggag man keojyeoga

Eonjebuteo neon nal apeuge haessdeonga

Neo jochado moreujanha,” He slowly makes his way behind you, snaking his arms around your shoulders in a very intimate manner.

“Neodo apeujanha 'cause you’re mine

I just want to blow your mind

Ireohge neon tto meoleojyeo man ganeunde,” You close your eyes and sink into his embrace, swaying in a movement that could only be described as heaven. His voice is heaven. 

“I want you to be your light, baby

You should be your light

Deoneun apeuji anhge

Nega useul su issge

I want you to be your night, baby

You could be your night

Ibami neoege soljighal su issge…” He trails off, leaving you feeling speechless from listening to his honey-like voice. The song is also new, something you’ve never heard. You clap, astounded by his vocals.

“That was amazing!!! Thank you so much for doing that.” You can almost picture the cute blush on his cheeks as you praise him, but you aren’t going to let him know that.

“No problem.” As you both share a moment, Yoongi finds a supposed way out.

“Look, there’s a duct back here. Should one of us go through and see if they can let the others out?” You and Jimin share a look of suspicion but you volunteer anyways. 

“I guess I’ll do it. Seems logical.” You get to your hands and feet, and Jimin gives you his phone, tenderly. There’s a gentleness in his eyes and through the blinding light of the flashlight on his phone, you could see his pupils dilate slightly. For a moment, it’s just you and him, as the rest of the world fades to black. You snap out of your daze when Yoongi coughs into his arm again, and you prepare to crawl into a dusty duct that’s been closed for decades.

You eventually find an exit, and you’re surprised at how long Jimin’s battery life was. It was only at 49%, despite him using his phone for half the time you were together. He must’ve charged it to the full 100%. You find a screw loose on another duct, opening it with ease and slipping into the kitchen. And then when you shine your flashlight, you realize your location. 

You quickly run to the locked door and find that opening it from the outside is a piece of cake. The two men are thankful, but they still complain about the power. Jimin texts Jin that all of you got out, and he just tells you to go home.

The time is about 9:41, 2 hours later than you’d hoped to go home. Nonetheless, you had fun spilling your heart to these two wonderful men. You’ve never felt so close with a pair of strangers, but you can tell these two will become an important part of your life very soon.

                                     ༻• At your House •༺

“Where were you?” Your mother yells as you walk through the door, and you put your bag on the floor, flopping face down on the couch.

“I was at a café but then there was a power outage and I got stuck in a food pantry.” You nonchalantly tilt your head upwards at your mom, as her look of anger changes into one of worry.

“How did you get out?” She asks, bringing you a cheese sandwich. You plug in your phone upside down, but it’s okay because you can see the logo pop up after a minute.

“I crawled through a duct. It was fun but dusty. Oh, sorry for not texting you. My phone died.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N...is there something you’re not telling me?” You fold your arms, whining like a baby. “Was there someone else with you?” You nod, not wanting to tell your mom in detail. “Okay, I’m not gonna ask any more questions. But earlier Jungkook came by, he wanted to talk to you in person. After he left, Jasmine dropped by an hour ago, saying she wanted to see you too. Did something happen between the three of you?” You sigh, turning right-side up on the couch, resting your head on your mother’s shoulder.

“Mom, can I please just go to bed? I don’t feel so good.” Instead of pestering you to tell her, she complies with your wishes, leaving you alone to go into the kitchen.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I started renting the top floor of our house to two nice young men. They’ll stay with us, and we can get money.” You raise your eyebrows at her, not believing her fully. Your mom was never the type of person to do that. You had suggested it in the past, but she had never fully gone through with plans before. Especially big ones.

“And why did you agree to it?”

“Because they are so charming, Y/N, when I put the ad up, they immediately responded, saying that they’d do all the housework and help cook, and take care of the house as if it was theirs, even though they are paying to stay in one room.” You grab your backpack and make your way upstairs. After finishing your nighttime routine, you tuck yourself in and retire for the night.

You wake up with the sudden urge to pee. So, you run to the bathroom only to find a very unexpected sight. The same man with the crescent shaped eyes when he smiles is standing in your bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“J-Jimin?” He turns his head, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

“I live here!”

“Me too!” Dear God, what has your mother done?

[siriusblackblock]

A long-overdue introduction

Hi everyone!

I am (relatively) new to Tumblr, meaning I’ve been here listening and watching from afar for a few years now (not in a creepy way. Scratch that, in a totally creepy way), without daring to take a more active role (I don’t even know what ‘a more active role’ would entail to be perfectly honest!).

I’m not even sure how to use most of the features on Tumblr, I had my first computer very late and am very easily confused by everything remotely social-media-like. The most I achieved was a blog that I was too afraid to make public!

But through my best friend, I discovered this new world I was completely unaware of and waow, what a day. I discovered a community that is so rich and diverse and accepting. A community that feeds my desire to learn new things and more importantly, new ways of thinking.

I tune in almost everyday, always excited to see what’s in store for this new day of craziness.

I wanted to get more involved but didn’t know quite how so I decided I would reach out through what I’m passionate about and that’s writing.

I have been writing my whole life but I come from a very isolated place where it was hard to find people with similar interests and I didn’t find anyone to share it with before a very long time. Even then it was difficult. I didn’t push it further because I was shy and afraid what I wrote wasn’t good enough for other eyes than mine.

I kept it all hidden, stubbornly re-writing my poor paragraphs sometimes dozens of time each, thinking about little else for hours on end, practically everyday. It was an inner life that was so full, yet completely unknown by even the people closest to me. The only two times where I dared to open up and share what I did, I was shut down or ignored and it struck me very deeply.

Then I met the right people, or should I say the right person and it changed dramatically. For starters, she introduced me to the merry little world of fanfiction. I couldn’t believe it. I finally found representation, understanding, people that I could sympathize with, understand.

Then, years after gorging myself with all these amazing stories that I never thought I would have access to, I tried it.

Again thanks to that great friend of mine. She supported me, read what I had done (a big first for me!) and gave me the courage to post it.

Through fanfiction and this friendship (yes I am perfectly aware of how corny it sounds, but I don’t care coz it’s fucking true), I discovered a well of creativity so deep, so diverse, so fierce, that it gave me the impetus to write again.

It helped me and inspired me so much with my other works. It helped me get a better English, because it’s not my native language and it’s damn hard. And it also helped me explore a lot of internal questions and doubts I had struggled with and ignored for years.

Posting my fanfictions online for anyone to read was one of the scariest and most liberating experiences of my life.

So here I am now, I posted a few fanfictions online, I have a gazillion more in progress (yeah, I fully embraced the curse). Some of them I’m proud of, other less, but I’m trying to be nicer to myself and to accept that I’m still learning and that they don’t have to be perfect to be shared.

I’d like to try and be more involved in the fanfic community even if I don’t quite know how yet. I’d love to connect with other writers, share moments, tips, advice, stories and more generally, share our passion.

My profile on AO3 is Badam_Luumsss. I mostly read from the Harry Potter fandom, even if I really enjoy works from many other fandoms and that’s what I write (for now).

I would be over the moon if some of you wanted to reach out to me to just chat, hang out, give me advice or share your experience of the fanfic world, guide me on how to connect with people with whom I could have shared interests.

I also wanted to thank all of you, I feel very privileged to be part of a community that is so caring, accepting, tolerant, wholesome, hope-giving, inspiring and batshit crazy (because let’s be honest where would be the fun if not?).

I hope I’ll be able to give back at least a tiny fraction of what I received.

So thank you. And I’ll conclude this lengthy tirade with the famous words of Christopher McCandless:

“Happiness is only real when shared.”

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY: 

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people? 

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.) 

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. 

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene. 

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad. 

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story! 

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light. 

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.) 

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts! 

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara. 

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem. 

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now). 

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey. 

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting. 

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

:C

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.

[arlert-angel]

i had something i wanted to talk about since discourse earlier took place where a couple big blogs stated that headcanons and drabbles were "clout writing" / "writing for clout".

needed to get these thoughts off my chest, i don't mind if anyone wants to add their opinion as well or talking it over.

warning: it's kinda long

i did not bother interacting or arguing with the people involved– seeing how they reacted to many others– but when reading through their definitions and reasoning i wanted to share some thoughts of my own.

they claimed that headcanons and drabbles are a quick and easy way to get notes and many times discouraged people from writing in that format.

not directly, but they continuously stated that people who write in that format only want notes and they used to write like that and they write so much better now.

that really is indirectly shading everyone who does right that way, you know?

but they failed to mention that there is much more to headcanons and drabbles then gaining notes.

drabbles are quick and fun.

it really does give writers a fast, FUN outlet to get something off their mind and share with others. it's also a good way to gauge if readers likes that small piece of writing, so the writer can later expand on. i enjoy reading all drabbles no matter how short.

GASP

am i thinking about what the readers like too much?

does this make me a clout chaser!??

personally, i don't think so.

i respect my readers. i LOVE my readers. so i wanna know what i'm doing right and wrong, so that as a writer i can improve.

and drabbles are great practice for that.

yo since when is learning and listening from readers about clout and fame?

their mindset is the one perceiving it that way. i guarantee majority of headcanon and drabble writers don't think about the notes they're gonna get.

they are more focused on what type of reaction they're gonna get.

there's a difference!!! maybe their mindset can't comprehend that.

it really sounds like they just don't like what's popular/gains notes.

a classic gaslight gatekeep girlboss moment (derogatory).

another thing mentioned amongst the chaos was that certain tags were flooded with these headcanons and drabbles.

i could understand the annoyance if the tagging was incorrect. (ex: looking at armin fic tag and then only seeing headcanons) that's not a fic, but if it's not incorrectly tagged...

don't complain.

headcanons are also all in good fun!! there are some interesting scenarios (a lot of the time from readers requests or the writer's own imagination).

again, a good way to spitball ideas for a whole fic or sometimes it's something that doesn't need a whole fic, but is still a good concept that the writer wants to put out there.

writing is meant to fun

i cannot stress that enough. they even mentioned it themselves that they write because they like to, not to gain exposure.

what makes you guys believe that anyone else is different?

i feel like through out most of that discourse i saw the people saying that stuff talk a lot about themselves rather than consider anyone else's point of view. so many personal examples and feelings "i see this..." "i used to do this..." "i don't like..."

me me me

when they aren't stopping to consider anyone else's point of view.

the actual current writers that write in that format.

i really do get genuinely confused when people can't take other people's feelings into account.

maybe i'm sensitive or think about others TOO much, but there are those who try very hard on their work (headcanons and drabbles) and produce great content only to be belittled by some big blogs with an odd grudge.

and there's this:

wow.

i'm so happy that you were able to overcome your troubles. many haven't. many have to deal with that "depression and anxiety card" every day.

how dare you belittle mental illness? no really... how? like with your full chest??

but go you for conquering your struggles because apparently yours is the only one that matters.

(that one especially made me mad)

AND EVEN IF PEOPLE ARE WRITING FOR CLOUT...

there is no wrong reason for writing.

writing is beautiful. it's a creative outlet with an infinite amount of possibilities.

you want lots of views? cool.

you want to write privately? great.

at the end of the day, the number one reason why someone writes fanfiction– above all else– is:

because they like whatever fandom they're writing for.

or else they wouldn't write.

simple.

you can not like a format of writing, but you do not take it out on the writers.

i personally mostly write full fics too, but i still respect and cherish many headcanon and drabble writers. (they do be feeding me daily unlike most full fic writers 🥵)

also headcanons and drabbles have been around a looooong time. it's a great way for beginners to start writing and get comfortable posting.

it's disrespectful, insensitive, and discouraging what they continued to post. i don't care that it is their opinion because i have my own as well.

if they had just said i don't like headcanons and drabbles, no one would've cared. people like different formats, it's okay!!!

but they targeted the writer specifically and labeled them as some sort of greedy, uncaring content producing machine. (not their words, just making a point).

it's alright to have different opinions, but it's not okay to be a dick lol.

i blocked most people involved but if anyone ends up showing this to them, whoo! give me attention big bois 🥵 (they're big blogs i think lol)

i just felt like i needed to say more especially for my lovely writers and hope that no readers were overwhelmed.

i also hope their posts didn't make anyone doubt their work.

keep writing. all writing is practice. the more you practice, the more you're able to achieve.

im done, needed to speak my truth.

-moon ☪