#i wanted to post this more than a week ago but i ran into writer’s block

[blood-darkened-moon]

(1/2) TEW question: If Ruben hadn’t been burned but was still a serial killer, what is his motive for killing? Since there’s no need for revenge, what would happen? SKs IIRC develop a fractured identity hidden behind a wall of primitive defenses, so it’s a horrible way of coping, like self-medicating (we know there’s trauma and a predisposition).

Ok, anon, I love horror movies and games and also read about some serial killers out of interest, but I’m not an expert on this topic, especially not on the psychological aspects. And I refuse to diagnose fictional characters with mental illnesses. The headcanons I write are just for fun and should be seen as an attempt to write a horror AU rather than an analysis based on the mindset of real people. I don’t think that I can give you a qualified answer to your questions, but I’ll try my best. Here’s a more analytical approach to the topic.

I agree with you that there was a predisposition, but was there trauma involved before the fire? I don’t think so, or at least I think there is absolutely no evidence for this within the game. Even Jimenez wrote in Research Entry #31, “After surviving the incident and subsequent abuse from his parents, it’s a miracle Ruben can function at all.” We know very little about Ruben’s past before the incident. Some information originates from Ruben’s documents or his recordings after the fire. At that time, he is deeply traumatized, hallucinates, and is overall mentally unstable, which becomes even noticeable in his records. His state likely influences his perception in a heavily subjective way. Due to this and the ongoing abuse by his father, he may evaluate his childhood as worse than it actually was. However, since there are no more reliable sources, I have to take his words for granted.

While I don’t see anything that could have traumatized Ruben as a child, I still think that there were conflicts that could have worsened even if the fire never happened. There was tension in his family, specifically with his father. Ruben already seemed to have a somewhat strained relationship with him before the incident. Yet, he still respected him, as Ruben stated in one of the recordings, “Father was a stern man. Proud, and I thought intelligent.” He was calm while he recorded this. Therefore, I think this statement is valid, and their relationship wasn’t that bad at first. On the other hand, Ruben also wrote: “He’s trying to punish me again. He always resented our closeness. Thinks he can use it against me.” He wrote this while he was clearly enraged, likely not fully accountable. It still indicates a conflict between the two.

The latter statement is somewhat strange, though. Why should Ernesto mind if his children get along well with each other? Isn’t this a good thing? Jimenez describes Ruben’s love for Laura as “almost on an incestuous level”, and considering Ruben’s records, that seems to be a legitimate interpretation. But the records are from after the fire when he was already a teenager or young adult. Moreover, he was locked up in the basement for years without any human contact (except for his father and a doctor, maybe). This long-term isolation would excuse Ruben’s affection for his sister reaching an abnormal level. Even in case little Ruben had a crush on Laura at that age (10 or younger), I think this would hardly be a reason to be concerned. He could likely outgrow it easily if he grew up under normal circumstances. So, it is unlikely that this was Ernesto’s issue.

I think it is possible that the statement relates to Ruben’s experiments in some way. We know Ernesto cannot cope well with problems that would damage his family’s reputation. After all, he preferred to lock his traumatized son away after the fire instead of organizing real help for him. Well, dissecting pig heads is not a normal behavior for a child, and yet Ruben had the equipment and a room where he could do his experiments. Why did Ernesto tolerate this behavior, which is significantly more concerning than suffering from physical and mental trauma after barely surviving a fire? (In the sense of the latter is an understandable reaction.) And why did he show it to Jimenez in the first place? This isn’t something that you show proudly around in the neighborhood. I assume that maybe Laura protected her brother, acted as the voice of reason, and convinced Ernesto that instead of punishing Ruben for his experiments, he should deal with it differently. Jimenez was just about 20 at the time he met Ruben. He can’t have been a doctor then. He was likely only a student. (The model in the game is older, probably due to time or budget reasons.) Jimenez wasn’t working at Beacon yet either. In Research Entry #16, he stated that he started working there but also mentioned Ruben, so he already knew him before that. Perhaps at Laura’s request, the Victorianos looked for someone with the necessary expertise to deal with Ruben’s behavior but who would do so in secrecy. Therefore, they went with a student. In the end, it backfired, and instead of talking Ruben out of his experiments, Jimenez confirmed his beliefs. Ernesto could take this amiss and think strict punishment would have worked better. This is highly speculative, though. Ruben also mentioned punishment in the document, but it is unclear what kind of punishment it was and when it happened. It could be something (long) before the fire, or he could relate to his recent confinement in the basement.

Another issue Ruvik mentioned is his hatred for the church and his father always supporting them. He said, “Somehow he always supported the church, no matter what the newspapers said. He waved away the allegations as if they were infallible. The wretched, the vermin, the stern... All were taken in by that church.”, followed by “They were promised salvation and eternal life. But there’s nothing they could promise that I couldn’t take away.” Where his hatred for the church originates from is again not clear. We know the church was a shady place, but had it anything to do with child-Ruben? I think it is also possible that Ruben developed his hatred later during his time in the basement. He thought his father had taken Laura away from him, the one person he loved the most. Perhaps he then decided to take something away from his father that he cherished deeply.

This covers the conflicts at home we know of. None of them seem to be a major issue before the fire, though. I doubt that these alone had the potential to set up Ruben on the path of a serial killer unless drastic changes occur. However, there are still some other aspects.

Jimenez is one of them. He is not a good influence on Ruben at all. He could have tried to channel Ruben’s interests onto a healthier path. Instead, he affirmed that ethical and moral standards in science must be questioned if true greatness is to be achieved. Ruben knew very well that his experiments were unacceptable when they met for the first time. Jimenez probably had a chance of convincing Ruben to give up on them. Later, he continues to be a toxic influence. Despite his sympathy for Ruben, Jimenez often disregards his poor mental state and only tries to gain profit from Ruben’s results. Only after the experiments reached an extreme level of gruesomeness and the death toll went through the roof did Jimenez realize that he made a big mistake. “I had taught him from a young age that the end shall justify the means, but I could not have predicted things to be this extreme.” Not that it would stop Jimenez from leeching further on Ruben’s work.

Now, before I come to the possibility of Ruben still becoming a serial killer without the fire, I want to speculate a bit about his early experiments, because they could hint at a predisposition. We know that Ruben dissected pig heads, but I think this can’t be the only thing he has done. I assume the pig heads are slaughterhouse waste. (He can’t have killed and decapitated a large pig alone at the age of 9, right?) Little Ruben doesn’t seem to have the proper equipment to prevent the decomposition in his room. (How fresh were the heads when he got them?) As far as I know, brain matter decomposes rather quickly, though. How far can he get with a half-decomposed pig brain? He can develop and improve his surgery skills. However, Jimenez mentions Ruben’s studies, and he is really impressed by them (“… but Ruben... Comparatively insignificant, but even at his young age, his studies are remarkable.”). While it is not shown or otherwise described in the game, I think it is likely that Ruben also experimented on other smaller animals that were either still alive or killed shortly before he started. We don’t know what kind of studies he performed, but I think you likely need a fresh or well-preserved brain for most experiments. Ruben was also hesitant to show his experiments to Jimenez. He said they are gross and that Jimenez now thinks he is a monster. Ruben did not try to justify them. Would this be the case if he only used slaughterhouse waste? It would still be gross and off for a child but a little less disturbing than experimenting on animals he had killed first. At least assuming that Jimenez might think he was a monster for doing so seems like an exaggeration to me since the pigs were slaughtered beforehand anyway.

Edit: In the room where Ruben dissects the pig’s head, there is an eviscerated dog carcass (which I’ve apparently always overlooked). So he has definitely killed other animals and experimented on them. The cages in the room also point to this. Judging by the size of the cages, he probably mainly used cats and dogs.

So much to the background, now what could have happened without the fire? Firstly, Laura was 17 when the fire occurred; Ruben was only 10. Laura probably wouldn’t have stayed with her parents forever. Maybe she would have gone to college the following year. Ruben spent his teenage years in the 80s, so no internet, and telephones weren’t constantly available either. He still has to live almost without Laura for several years. As I said before, I assume that Laura protected Ruben in some way from Ernesto. After she leaves, Ruben has to deal with his father mostly on his own. Their relationship was already strained before and would certainly not improve over the years, rather the opposite. I can’t say how far Ernesto would ultimately go with his punishments if Laura isn’t on-site without further information, though. We should also bear in mind that Ruben is getting older and can probably hide his activities better from his father. Jimenez might also be able to help him with this. I think, it is unlikely that the situation would take on similarly traumatizing proportions as after the fire, but there is still a certain conflict potential.

The bigger problem is, in my opinion, Jimenez. Without Laura and with a tense atmosphere at home, Ruben would probably spend more time with him. At least initially, Jimenez seemed to understand and support him. He recognized Ruben’s talent and was his mentor, even if not entirely for selfless reasons. I think it’s possible that even without fire, he could lead Ruben down a similar path as in the game, but probably at a slower pace. Seeing Laura again would no longer be Ruben’s driving force, but she wasn’t his only motivation in the game anyway. Ruben took a lot of pride in his research. He became furious when Jimenez stole and published his results (“That cockroach, that sycophant; living off of me, feeding off of my work.“). Sure, Jimenez is an asshole, but he was somewhat correct when he said Ruvik couldn’t have published it in a reputable journal otherwise. If Laura was really all Ruben wanted, he shouldn’t have been so angry about what Jimenez was doing. So, Ruben’s own ambitions as a scientist may have played a role, albeit a subordinate one.

Jimenez has persuaded Ruben from the beginning that the end justifies the means, plus there is Ruben’s potential predisposition, now adding some overambition, nurtured by his mentor, on top. Ruben would probably not shy away from human experiments, as they would be more reliable than the ones with animals. Jimenez would certainly provide him with test subjects, and he might even urge him to take this step once Ruben’s abilities were sufficient. After all, Jimenez also wants to profit from his work.

I don’t think Ruben would become an ordinary serial killer, but, for instance, I could imagine him evolving in a similar direction to Josef Mengele. In the game, he no longer sees the people he experiments on as people. He describes them as vermin and microbes. Without fire and the years in the basement, he should feel less hatred towards others, but with Jimenez as a mentor, he may have come to the conclusion that the death of some people is justified in order to help others through scientific advancement. His test subjects may no longer be vermin to him but laboratory supplies. He still would use and kill them as he pleased.

Serial killers often have a traumatic past and use the killing as a coping mechanism, but not all of them. It is not impossible that someone could become a serial killer for different reasons. The scenario above is the best I could do with the little information we have. I guess my answer isn’t really what you wanted, but I cannot see a canon reason for Ruben to snap if the fire and the abuse afterward never happened. If we knew more about his past, perhaps this would change. (I left Mobius out for simplicity, by the way.)

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Wonderland pt 1

Part 1 (Eventually) Yandere Luke castellan x Gender neutral reader

Summary you're from wonderland well at least you're mother is you're father is a God. The best swordsman in camp takes an.... interesting and obsessive liking to you

Also I feel like we offen forget wine isn't the only thing Dionysus is the God of but madness as well. I currently have bad writers block and couldn't currently think of anything else to add so I decided to split it into parts since I needed to post something.

Trigger warnings nothing yet, but eventually in future parts yandere themes like stalking, manipulation, kidnapping (extra)

You weren't from this world well......technically you are you were from a part of the world everyone thought was made up just another part of the human imagination......Wonderland . Wonderland was very.....disconnected from actual sane people or large bustling cities like New York. Your mother was probably one of the subjects of the queen of hearts just kinda surviving. Your father isn't exactly normal either he was also never around. Honestly as much as you love your mother it was kinda hard to imagine a God falling for her or really a God falling for anyone in Wonderland because while some of the inhabitants of Wonderland is more sane then others even the more sane ones start to go insane eventually.

Which is why when you were 13 you ran away from home. Although you had no clue where to go or what to do now you had left Wonderland. You're clothes and mismatched socks probably also made you stand out to by standers because in real life on Earth the other humans weren't used to seeing people dress in bright colors and patterns unless celebrating. After a few days of wandering aimlessly you ran into help or rather help ran into you.

You were desperately scrounging around for food thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave home when you felt someone run smack into you causing you both to tumble towards the ground. "Oh my pan! I'm so sorry." A male voice said. He had ...goat horns? Ehh not the weirdest thing you've ever seen. "Are those horns really or .....?" You asked. "They're real. Oh I'm Grover. " Grover replied. You weren't sure what to say or do and that's how you met Grover. After about a week of traveling with Grover is when you met Luke, Thalia and Annabeth.

" Hey Grover I'm going to find something to eat for myself. " You replied. " Ok just don't go far I'll finish setting up camp." Grover said. You did in fact wander to far when you stumbled upon a bush full of berries and you were about to eat some when you heard a voice tell you to wait. "Wait, don't eat those! those are holly berries they are poisonous!" A young female voice exclaimed. You looked around for the source of the voice. You spotted a young girl no older than 7 standing between some trees you could make out 2 more figures behind her one another female and the other male. You backed away your left hand reaching for a dagger in your pocket you swear wasn't there a moment ago while you're right hand still held the berries.

" Who are you why should I trust you?" You questioned. You got a closer look at them the seven year old girl had grey eyes , black hair and brown skin, the other gir who looked about a year younger than you so 12 had choppy short black hair , blue eyes and is white. She pushed the younger seven year old behind her. " Thalia I can protect myself!" The seven year old exclaimed. While the two girls were arguing you managed to sneak away not noticing the male following you.

" Grover!" You exclaimed finally making it back to the very stressed looking satyr. Grover rushed over to you. " Y/n there you are! You were gone for an hour I was worried I was calling your name but no reply and I didn't want to leave the fire unattended. Your not hurt are you?" Grover asked like a panicked father looking over you to make sure you didn't have any new injuries. " Hey Grover I'm ok. I'm ok." You replied. " Pan Y/n you had me so worried!" Grover exclaimed. "LUKE!" The older female voice Thalia called out causing You and Grover to look in the direction of Thalia's voice and there stood the male that had been with the 2 younger females.

Now learning his name is Luke. You started to reach for your dagger once again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. "

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Two Vals, Two Years of Fem V Friday

107 weeks ago, which is just over two years, I made the first Fem V Friday post. I didn't expect it to take off. As a fic smut writer in rarepair hell, I ran a tiny blog. I had barely started taking VP, if you could call it that. I've talked before about bootcamping my MacBook Pro; I did unspeakable things to that poor machine.

I'm """old""". I know I'm older than some of your parents, a fact which inflicts serious psychic anguish at times. I didn't grow up with women as playable characters in video games, or with women as video game characters at all, really. I never got into Lara Croft because I believed she was created for the male gaze, something I could never get past, though I absolutely understand why so many women love her! A woman as the playable hero of the story! At last, someone on the screen who looks like me! Kinda! (Side note: I recently learned from a huge Lara fan that the creator was unhappy with how she became sexualized, and that makes me feel better. Maybe I'll finally give it a try.)

It wasn't until Bioware that I finally got to play the badass women of young Wash's dreams. Given the option, I haven't played a male character since. This past Pride I wrote about my complicated relationship with gender, and having the ability to play as a female character — especially ones that allowed me to express my butch side — is key to my journey.

107 weeks ago, the week that Masc v Monday began, I made a comment or tagged something about being sad there wasn't such a thing for fem Vs. At the time, my dash was full of masc Vs because of who I followed: people who posted male OCs. I was still new to tumblr and hadn't met all of my friends whose Vs wives you see me regularly reblog. So many of the fem Vs who crossed my dash looked like more of the same sexualized characters created for the male gaze. I wanted the ones out there who looked like my own Val; fem Vs who looked like real women.

That following Friday, August 12, I started the tag at someone else's suggestion. I thanked him genuinely for it whenever he commented on the post or reblogged it or however the interaction occurred.

107 weeks ago, I posted Val, and many people responded. Many people reblogged and added on their fem Vs, while others posted separately. I was overwhelmed. I never expected the response I received.

107 weeks later, I still love Fridays. I love seeing all of your fem Vs in all shapes and forms, because I will never get over seeing this representation. I will never tire of seeing all the different female characters that people make.

This is why I made the first Fem V Friday post. I love Fridays, y'all.

[yns-world]

hi heart <3

I hope you are having a good day/night :) if you have time I want to request dialogues intros from Erron Black, Kano, Kotal Kahn, Shao Kahn and Rain with their son from the future who looks like them but has the personality of his mother( as if the reader were sarcastic, arrogant and rejected them all the time saying things like that she would never be with them that she doesn't like them and things like that and boom they meet their son who comes from the future).

Thank you very much in advance for your time and for writing such wonderful things <3 your posts are simply incredible :^ you are without a doubt one of my favorite writers <3

a/n: you're too kind 😭😭 you guys are so sweet and it makes me so happy to know that y'all enjoy this <333

i don’t take intro requests anymore but this was requested a week ago and i’ve been wanting to write this because i love the concept so much :)

MK Characters Meeting Their Future Son

Characters: Erron Black, Kano, Kotal Kahn, Shao Kahn, Rain

Y/S/N = Your son’s name

Erron Black: “Y/S/N, is it?”

Y/S/N: “Keep my name out of your filthy mouth.”

Erron Black: “You’re forgetting who you’re speaking to, partner.”

Y/S/N: “Great. I’ve found the hillbilly.”

Erron Black: "Hillbilly blood runs in your veins."

Y/S/N: “You don’t know how much I hate being remotely associated with you.”

Erron Black: “What kind of a mother harbors this much hate in a child?”

Y/S/N: “This hate wasn’t her doing, that was all you.”

Kano: “Ain’t no way you’re my child, I pulled out!”

Y/S/N: He rolls his eyes. “Real classy.”

Kano: He winks. “Just like how the ladies love ‘em.”

Kano: “You’re a fine looking fella, we could definitely use a lot of ya in the Black Dragon.”

Y/S/N: “I’m nothing like your third-rate gang.”

Kano: “Oh, but ya is. You’re my flesh and blood.”

Kano: He smirks. “How’s your mother doing?”

Y/S/N: “She’s counting on me to kill you. I never disappoint.”

Kano: “It’s gonna break her poor heart to find her son’s head at her doorstep.”

Kotal Kahn: “The heavens have blessed Y/N and I with the birth of you.”

Y/S/N: “You had no part in the blessing.”

Kotal Kahn: “You are of my seed, I’ve had just as much part as did your mother.”

Y/S/N: “The only thing you did was treat her like a whore and left her to fend for herself. I am of her creation.”

Y/S/N: He scoffs. “So the rumors are true.”

Kotal Kahn: “What rumors?”

Y/S/N: “That the sun god had his ass handed to him by some lowlife gangster.”

Y/S/N: “Does Jade know?”

Kotal Kahn: “There's nothing to tell.”

Y/S/N: “I guess I'll introduce myself after I kill you.”

Shao Kahn: He barks with laughter. “A son! Who knew Y/N would finally prove herself useful for once!”

Y/S/N: “You can rest easy knowing that I won’t fail like your daughters.”

Shao Kahn: “Fail at what?”

Y/S/N: “That I won’t fail to kill you here and now.”

Shao Kahn: “Your Tarkatan blood runs deep, child!”

Y/S/N: “It’s a shame your legacy ends here.”

Y/S/N: “You were always a monster.”

Shao Kahn: He smirks. “But your mother ran to me like how Red Riding Hood ran to the Big Bad Wolf.”

Y/S/N: “You forgot the part of the story where the wolf dies.”

Rain: “Do the gods deceive me?”

Y/S/N: “Not as much as you deceived my mother.”

Rain: He smirks, amused. “Ah, you’re Y/N’s boy. You carry her silver tongue.”

Y/S/N: His grip on his dagger tightens. “And I carry her hatred for you.”

Y/S/N: “You’re nothing but an egotistical bastard.”

Rain: “Ironic coming from you, no?”

Rain: “It’s good to know that my godhood passed down.”

Y/S/N: “Your pride will be the death of you.”

Rain: “Not before it kills you first.”

a/n: if you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging :) that helps my account more than likes <3

tipping also helps a lot!! any amount is much appreciated <3

i’m also considering writing commissions but i want to know what y’all think about that.

as always, check my pinned post for request rules and i hope y’all have a great day!!

i’ll catch y’all in the next post ;)

[justanotherblonde]

it's sasodei week 2024!

i have precisely one thing to contribute, but ffs it's not done yet grr!! maybe we can blame my dog... she demanded i come play with her no less than nine times (i kept track) as i wrote this post (she does this by shouting at me then humping my leg to show me who's boss, sometimes pulling on my sweater sleeve with her sharp li'l teefs, beagles, man, i tell ya...) 🐶

anyway!! here's a TEASER of my Day 3 Band/Rockstar/Idol AU story ahhhhh!!! it's not even titled yet!!!!! i don't even really know what the tags will be! and i haven't had time to make a header image!! 😫

but this i know, oh this i know:

Sasori is first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic

He has a dirty little secret hobby: listening to metal (among other genres that are definitely not classical)

One of the bands he listens to is called C4

Guess who's the lead singer???

Yes, you guessed it, it's Deidara, singer/song-writer, perhaps much more...

In this AU, everybody lives!! Well... okay fine, Sasori's parents still didn't make it, i'm sorry

But that means two important things: Third Kazekage is alive! And there are a LOT of Uchiha running around.

There's more, a lot more, but you'll have to wait until i steal more minutes and hours from my dog and my work! but i'll give it to ya, come hell or high water! or wildfires, earthquakes, debilitating PM 2.5 ratings, or uh... dare i say... another pandemic??? FEAR NOT!

if you want to wait for the full thing to drop to read, i've left the teaser excerpt below the cut.

a million thanks to @sasodeiweek for hosting this event and encouraging us SasoDei creators to flex our creative muscles! loving all the contributions so far!

and without further ado...

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

Chapter 1

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

The fine, agile fingers of his left hand twitched; his right hand swayed side to side, marking the strokes of his bow. Eyes half-closed, his feet kept time on the pavement as he walked. It was Haydn this week, Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major. A weighty yet familiar responsibility for Sasori, first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic.

He sighed. Rehearsal had wrapped half an hour ago. He was on his way home, and tomorrow was a rest day. He didn’t need to torture himself like this. 

The headphones around his neck were a comforting weight, as friendly and intimate as the straps of his cello case on his shoulders. He flipped them over his ears and dug in his coat pocket for his phone. Scrolling through the saved playlists on his music app, he skipped all of the classical “homework” and went straight for his guilty pleasures: dance-pop, glam-rock, musicals… and heavy metal. 

No one at work knew about his low, low tastes.

Well, the Third had known. 

Sasori gritted his teeth, biting back unbidden memories. Now he definitely needed to blast his brain clean with some noise. 

Something heavy.

Something loud.

Something to transport him far away from the sand-scraped streets of Sunagakure.

His thumb landed on the album he was looking for.

Art is an EXPLOSION by C4. Track 1: “Light It Up.”

From that first haunting guitar chord, the tension Sasori held in his chest and face dispersed. He rode that twisting whine down, down… someplace dark and cool, far beneath the earth. As the barreling drums built to a crescendo, he held his breath—wait for it!—

A million years, through timeless stone I’m damned to walk this path alone This darkness, all I’ve ever known…

The lead singer had a deep, melodic voice. He molded each word of the verse carefully, tenderly, as if he were embarking on a ballad… then WHAM!

Cymbals crashed; the roaring chorus caught the last two notes of an electrifying riff like a surfer hopping a wave:

Light it up! Hey, light it up! Strike a match and light it up! My fuse is short, ’m ready to blow, Crush the ceiling down to the floor!

Not in a million years would Sasori admit out loud to anyone that he listened to C4, especially not now that the public were actually aware of their existence. The metal band had catapulted to fame last year with their single “Burn Down All the Discos,” but Sasori had been listening to them well before that. Three years ago, his music app had recommended him a track from Art is an EXPLOSION—C4’s debut album—based on his eclectic streaming history. 

If the first song Sasori had heard by C4 had been anything but “Artist,” he’d probably never have given them a chance: their usual sound was, on the surface, sloppy, and most of the lyrics were childish boasts. “Look at me!” their vocalist seemed to say in every song. 

But “Artist” was different. It was, inexplicably, an up-tempo perversion of Vivaldi’s Winter Largo in F Minor, lamenting how hard it was to live for art’s sake when the world ran on money and heroic virtue. Listeners without classical training would be unable to appreciate or likely even identify the subtleties of what had been done with the classical score, but the first time he heard it, Sasori had been riveted. Vivaldi’s rhythmic harpsichord had been replaced with a softly tapped snare drum; a mournful electric guitar carried the melody when it wasn’t sung. 

Curiosity piqued, Sasori had investigated the rest of the album, and found similar nods to classical music throughout the tracks, much harder to notice than the adapted Vivaldi, drowned as they were in a thunderstorm of electric guitar and percussion. C4 were more than just a metal band: they experimented with typical traits of the genre and also drew from pop rock, classical music, even musical theatre to create a sound unlike anything Sasori had ever heard. They broke all the rules and they did it with glee.

One day—a rest day—home alone and bored, Sasori had looked up the band online. It surprised him to learn that the lead singer had been only sixteen when the band was formed. That powerful voice certainly didn’t sound like it belonged to a teenager. But the band’s website was light on biographical information, and Sasori hadn’t felt like digging deeper. An overwhelming amount of fan sites and social media accounts had sprung up since “Burn Down All the Discos” and C4’s world tour. Bored as he was that day, Sasori wasn’t about to use his precious free time to obsess over some flash-in-the-pan rock band, especially one fronted by a kid.

And yet, he still listened to them.

“Artist” often competed for the position of most frequently-played song on his app, but only when he was feeling particularly moody. 

It crossed his mind that he ought to check if C4 had come out with anything new lately—the app usually sent a message when artists he’d followed released new music. Pausing to wait for a traffic light, he dug for his phone again.

Lo and behold, a new album had dropped not three days ago.

Beauty of a Moment, it was called. The cover art featured the Venus de Milo... mid-explosion.

Sasori chuckled under his breath. “He really does fancy himself an artist, doesn’t he…” 

What a fool. Popular music was not art. Rock music was not art. It came and went, but the classics stayed. For centuries. Forever.

It was the one thing Sasori and the Third had always agreed on, despite all of their differences. 

Speaking of which… 

...

[silvfyre-writings]

Resilient like a Cactus (BSD Fanfic)

I return with another Journey of Parenting fic! It's been a while since my last Fukuzawa and Ranpo fic, so I am excited to share this with all of you!! I finished this a while ago, but because I was working on Infection AU at the same time, I wanted to finish writing that before I posted anything else.

I can't remember if I stated Ranpo's age in the fic, but just in case I didn't, they are fifteen at this point in the timeline.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and if you liked it, leave a like and a comment, maybe even a reblog!!! Comments are food to us writers, so don't be afraid to!!

ENJOY <3

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Those were the words that ran through Fukuzawa’s brain as he walked through alleyways, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid attracting attention from those he wished not to interact with. Which was everyone loitering about as he strongly wished he were anywhere but here right now. However his mission for this evening was important, so important that it had to be done, which mean that sacrifices—such as that of his comfort—were necessary, and that he would minimise his complaints.

A hard thing to do when he was on his way to visit one Mori Ougai.

The underground doctor was someone that Fukuzawa loathed dealing with, even though he’d only dealt with the man a few times for protection jobs. There was just something about him that irked Fukuzawa, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and no, it wasn’t how Mori Ougai conducted his business in the underground. Fukuzawa was well aware that Mori’s hands weren’t clean, but who was he to judge when his own were just as filthy? But even so, the fewer encounters they had with each other, the better. Unfortunately, though, it just so happened that Mori was the only person that could actually help Fukuzawa with his problem without being annoying, what with his wide information network that spread across the entirety of Yokohama.

Did it still leave him with a sour feeling in his stomach? Yes.

But did he have any other choice? No.

After all, the reason he was even venturing out this late was because of a certain teenager in his care. His heart gave a pang as his thoughts drifted towards Ranpo, who he’d left sleeping comfortably in their bed, unable to keep himself from worrying over them. It hadn’t been a good day for either of them—Fukuzawa had been awoken by screams, and thrown himself from his futon to find Ranpo clutched in the grips of a nightmare. He’d managed to wake the younger, holding them close as they broke in his arms, as such had been the occurrence for the past week, until they’d calmed.

Ranpo never said what the nightmares were about, but they didn’t have to, not when they would clutch at their shoulder with a grip so tight after waking, that Fukuzawa had to pry their fingers off to make sure that they didn’t break the skin.

It was the only time that Fukuzawa ever felt helpless. It always broke his heart, and left his gut clenching to know how much Ranpo suffered whenever such nightmares occurred. And it wasn’t just that, but the way that sometimes, the two of them would just be talking, and Ranpo would suddenly cut off, a haunted look to their face as they recalled a memory that Fukuzawa wasn’t privy to. And sometimes, he would walk past Ranpo’s room, to see the teen standing in front of the mirror, eyes focused on that god-forsaken scar on his shoulder.

And the fact that Fukuzawa could do nothing but watch and support from the sidelines… well, it just left him wishing he could do more.

Hence why he was seeking Mori out instead of working for him for a change.

Because he knew that if he tried to go outside of the underground for what he was hoping to accomplish, he would be arrested faster than he could draw his sword, and Ranpo would be whisked away, either back to the streets, or into a system that had no hope of ever understanding him. Not that Ranpo knew what Fukuzawa was doing—at least, that’s what he thought—and he hoped to keep it that way until he had a definite answer to give.

Mori wasn’t impossible to track down, but he certainly wasn’t the easiest to find, and by the time that Fukuzawa figured out where the doctor was hiding, the sun was tucked well below the horizon, the moon providing the only source of light where even the street lights didn’t dare to try and reach. Such darkness would scare most people, but the darkness was his second home, where he’d once thrived before he’d encountered Ranpo.

Killing.

Hurting.

And while he’d stepped away from such a life, there was no denying that side of him. It was part of the reason why he hated having to work with Mori on the odd occasion; the man was extremely good at pushing all his buttons, riling him up until he wanted to either explode or behead the man, and reminding Fukuzawa of the life he constantly tried to push behind him.

Fukuzawa shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present as he turned down the alleyway that he needed. Focusing on the past was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, not that he would ever place the blame on Ranpo for any of it. It wasn’t their fault that the adults, aside from that of their parents, had failed them when they needed guidance the most. A task that now fell to Fukuzawa, and one that he intended to do well at, even if his methods were sure to raise eyebrows.

A brief memory flashed across his mind, one of blood and tears, and the reason why he was venturing out to begin with.

Finally, Fukuzawa reached the door of Mori’s clinic, and knocked on the door in a specific way; a code that only Mori could decipher, one that would let the underground doctor know that it was him. And sure enough, not even a minute after knocking, did the door crack open, and those familiar eyes of saturated pink peered through the gap, eyeing Fukuzawa cautiously.

Clearly, the doctor had had another run-in with people after his head.

“Mori-sensei.” Fukuzawa greeted, forcing himself to be polite.

“Fukuzawa-dono, what a surprise.” Mori’s lips stretched into a grin, which told Fukuzawa that his visit wasn’t a surprise in the slightest, and that the doctor had very much known he was coming. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine evening?”

Fukuzawa folded his arms into his sleeves. “A request. For information.”

“Oh? That’s rare.” The door opened further, and Mori slipped out into the street, cracking the door so only the faintest of light bathed the two of them. “And what do you offer in exchange for said information?”

Even though Fukuzawa knew the question was coming, had even prepared for it before he left his apartment, it still had him sucking in air. His eyes fell shut, and he sighed. “I offer my bodyguard services, free of charge, no matter who it is you want me to guard.”

Mori hummed, leaning against the wall. The doctor crossed his arms, fingers tapping away while he thought over Fukuzawa’s request. And as much as Fukuzawa wanted to urge Mori to hurry up and answer him, all that would achieve was Mori refusing to help him. He had to be patient, no matter how long it took. But if he imagined all sorts of bad luck befalling Mori while he waited, then that was no one’s business but his own.

Except maybe Ranpo, but it wasn’t like the teen was with him anyway.

And, finally, after several minutes of silence, Mori spoke. “I’ll accept your offer, Fukuzawa-dono. Now what is it you need?”

“A tattoo artist willing to tattoo a fifteen-year-old.”

Mori blinked. “Come again?”

“I know you heard me.” Fukuzawa opened his eyes, levelling Mori with a look. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“Oh, I heard you, I’m just surprised that someone so fixated on being in the light now wants to dip his toes into the dark for such a thing. Might I ask what the reasoning for your request is?”

“You may not.”

The two stared each other down, Mori curious, and Fukuzawa steadfast. Neither man budged as the silence grew between them, but Fukuzawa knew he would win. His offer was too good for Mori to not cave and give him the information he wanted—he knew that if the roles were reversed, he’d accept such a deal, which is why he knew it would work—it was just a matter of waiting him out.

“Alright. Wait here.” Mori vanished back into his clinic, the door shutting quietly behind him, and leaving Fukuzawa alone in the dark.

Fukuzawa turned his head to the sky, the darkness of the underground areas allowing a few precious stars to poke through the pollution, shining brightly enough to lift his spirits. He’d always been fond of the night sky, believing that each star was guiding him along this new path of his. The stars always seemed to shine brighter when he found himself struggling, as if they themselves, were encouraging him to keep going. One day, he’d have to take Ranpo out to watch the stars—he wasn’t sure if they would enjoy such a mundane activity, but after many months of stress, one night of peace would do wonders. Regardless, he made a note to ask at some point.

The time continued to tick by, the moon rising in the sky slowly, and Fukuzawa found himself growing impatient, although he tried to squash it down. He knew that if he gave in to his impatience, and barged into the clinic, that Mori would win at this little game they were playing with each other, and he absolutely refused to give the other man the satisfaction of winning. The only way that Mori would ever win one of their games, would be over Fukuzawa’s dead body.

That Mori would quite happily arrange if he spoke such words aloud.

“Here, Fukuzawa-dono.” Mori’s voice dragged his attention down from the sky, and Fukuzawa accepted the folded piece of paper he was offered. “I took the liberty of calling ahead for you since he’s such a busy man. I also, was kind enough to find someone that operates legally, since you are such a good person nowadays.”

Fukuzawa shuddered, Mori’s words left a certain feeling of discomfort deep within him, one that only someone like Mori could achieve. “Do not say such things again, they are tainted coming from you.”

“Such cruel words, when all I’ve done is be helpful.” Mori sighed, looking mournful for only a second before he shrugged. “No matter, I’ve given you what you want. I expect you to come without hesitation when I call for you, Fukuzawa-dono.”

“I will be there, Mori-sensei.” Reluctantly of course.

And then Fukuzawa was left alone, Mori slinking back into his clinic and shutting the door behind him, almost as if their interaction had never occurred in the first place. As such, were interactions in the underground often taken, and Fukuzawa preferred it that way. Get in, get out, that was how things were meant to be. Lingering about, and attracting attention were surefire ways of getting yourself gutted—and Fukuzawa meant literally, for he’d often seen Mori treat patients that had been wounded for no reason other than they’d looked suspicious to those that called the underground their home.

Which was why the moment he was left alone, Fukuzawa turned on his heal and began to make his way home, studying the piece of paper that Mori had give him. On that scrap of paper, there was a name, an address, and a time, so now all that was left to do, was to suggest the idea to Ranpo and see if they would take to it. And although he wasn’t one to believe in God’s, he sent a prayer up to the stars that they would, that they would take this chance to try and heal, regardless of how unorthodox it was.

“I’m home.” Fukuzawa called as he stepped into the apartment, pausing for a moment to listen out for footsteps, or a welcoming shout, but none came; odd but not completely unexpected, considering the late hour. He stepped further into the apartment after toeing off his sandals, silently moving across the room as he searched for Ranpo.

It didn’t take long for him to find the teen, curled up on the couch underneath a blanket and dressed in a yukata, face finally free of the stress that had been engraved on it the entire day. For once, Ranpo looked the teen that they were, and Fukuzawa hoped that if Ranpo went through with this spontaneous idea of his, to get the scar that caused them so much distress covered up by something that they could look at and feel happiness over, that they would able to look like this every day.

He elected to leave Ranpo where they were, although he made sure to place a pillow behind their head, and tucked the blanket around their shoulders a little more, watching them burrow deeper into them. A fond look crossed Fukuzawa’s face before he moved on to let Ranpo sleep, heading towards his own room to prepare for bed, and for the next day, which he wasn’t quite sure on how it would be. As he changed into more comfortable clothing suitable for sleeping, he considered the possibility of being woken up in the middle of the night by another nightmare, or that the morning would come and he would find Ranpo in the clutches of a shutdown episode. But he also considered the possibility that morning would bring with it, a good day, that the two of them would both enjoy; perhaps they would even be called out for a case since Ranpo had started making a name for themself.

Really, he could consider and prepare all he wanted, but there was nothing he could do but live each day as it came, regardless of whether it promised to be good or bad.

And that was what he clung to, crawling into his futon and closing his eyes, the positives. For as many hurdles as he and Ranpo had jumped over, the journey they were undertaking together was slowly on the healing path.

“You came home late.” Ranpo commented the moment that Fukuzawa stepped into the room the next morning. Already, the genius detective was awake, sitting up and twirling a lollipop around their mouth. Ranpo’s head hung off the back of the couch, their eyes following Fukuzawa as he made his way towards the kitchen.

“My errand took longer than I thought.” Fukuzawa said, opening the fridge. “Did you eat while I was gone.”

“Yep.” Ranpo popped the word as they plucked the lollipop from their mouth, waving it in Fukuzawa’s direction. “The dinner you made wasn’t sweet enough by the way.”

Fukuzawa pulled out a piece of fruit, not feeling much like having a heavy breakfast that morning. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Despite his calm words, and exterior, inside his stomach was twisting around itself, and he admittedly felt a little bit anxious because of what he’d gone and arranged, and he wasn’t sure on how Ranpo would react. Sure, the opinion of a fifteen-year-old teenager shouldn’t matter so much to him, but it did. Just as he’d reached his hand out to Ranpo, Ranpo had done the same in return. They were sort of like family to each other, but also not. Two strangers who had once felt ostracised from the world finding a new purpose in life because of each other. Fukuzawa wasn’t quite sure of the label that he and Ranpo should use—calling them family felt like he would be erasing the memory of Ranpo’s parents, who the younger very much still valued and loved, and calling them friends felt a little strange. They’d only known each other a year, and well… it wasn’t like he really knew what it meant to be friends with others. He’d only had one friend as a child and they didn’t even speak to each other anymore.

Friends? Colleagues? What else was there?

Fukuzawa shook his head, clearing his mind of his worries. There was no point getting worked up about it. It was simply a minor detail that no one would even care to think about. Except for him apparently. He turned to look at Ranpo, who was watching him with a critical eye; there was a question behind those eyes, but it seemed that Ranpo was holding themself back. Like they knew Fukuzawa’s inner turmoil before he could even speak of it. “Dinner wasn’t sweet because it was supposed to be nutritious.”

“Duh, I knew that already.” Ranpo rolled their eyes, and twisted about until they were facing Fukuzawa properly. “Just spit it out already, Fukuzawa-san, before I deduce it.”

“Nothing gets past you.” It was a statement rather than a question, but the look on Fukuzawa’s face is fond as he walks over to the couch, holding out the bottle of ramune he’d grabbed along with his breakfast.

Ranpo doesn’t hesitate to take it. “Nope! So hurry up and tell me!”

Instead of answering, Fukuzawa reached into the sleeve of his haori and plucked out the piece of paper that Mori had given him the previous night. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Ranpo asked, frowning, as they studied the paper.

Fukuzawa didn’t answer immediately, watching anxiously, as Ranpo put together the pieces of the puzzle they’d been given. Ranpo’s eyes flicked from the paper to him, and back again. Their expression didn’t immediately give anything away, just a look that could only be deeply thinking. Still, it made Fukuzawa want to step forward and snatch the paper away, claiming that he wasn’t thinking and for Ranpo to ignore it.

But just as he began to actually consider doing so, Ranpo spoke. “Do you think it will help?”

“I don’t know.” Fukuzawa admitted. “I would like to believe that it would. As taboo as society considers it, I believe that if you replace the scar that causes you so much pain with something you can look at fondly, you may be able to heal and put it behind you.”

Ranpo hummed. “But the memories will still be there.”

“They will.” Fukuzawa inclined his head in agreement. “But just because it’s a memory that will always be there, it doesn’t mean that it has to control you.”

Another hum, and silence this time.

“Would you like me to leave you to think over it?”

“Yeah… thanks.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Fukuzawa said, reaching over to ruffle Ranpo’s hair gently before leaving the teen alone. He understood the need to be left alone in times where you needed to think hard about a decision, so he had no trouble honouring Ranpo’s wish, as much as he’d have preferred to sit with them and work through it together. But he’d squash that feeling down, and focus on getting through the never-ending paperwork he always seemed to be drowning in those days.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Ranpo had laid down again, holding the paper high into the air.

Fukuzawa turned away, before his resolve could slip any further.

A sigh.

Then another sigh.

And before the third one could even have the breath drawn to give life to it, Fukuzawa stopped and turned to face Ranpo. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” The response is short, filled with tension, and Fukuzawa can see Ranpo’s form slowly coiling up the longer that he stares at them. Something is wrong, Ranpo just doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it considering the two of them are currently in public, making their way to the parlour.

Looking about, the only suitable place Fukuzawa could see was an alleyway just up ahead, so he reached out to grab the sleeve of Ranpo’s shirt and guided them into the alley, levelling Ranpo with a look that says he won’t be taking no for an answer. “Lack of communication between us only causes more problems, so tell me, Ranpo, please.”

Ranpo’s brow furrowed, and they turned away. Their fingers wrapped around each other squeezing tight and releasing a moment later; anxiety then, Fukuzawa figured, but he waited for Ranpo to find the words they needed before jumping to conclusions.

“It’s going to hurt.” Ranpo said.

Fukuzawa nodded. “It will. I told you how tattoo’s work when you agreed.”

“What if it hurts too much?”

“Then we stop, and reassess.” Fukuzawa reassured, resting his hand on top of Ranpo’s head. “This idea is just that—an idea. You do not have to go through with it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Ranpo’s cheeks puffed out. “I know that!”

“Then why do you hesitate if you know?” Fukuzawa asked.

“Because I don’t want you to get in trouble for trying to help me!” Finally, Fukuzawa thought, this is what they were worried about. He listened as Ranpo continued to rant. “You’re doing this to help, but technically it’s illegal, and I know that Yokohama doesn’t really pay attention to orphans and the people they hang around but—”

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa interrupted before Ranpo could continue, dropping his hand to rest on the teen’s shoulder now. “It will be fine. Trust me on that.”

Silence followed his words, but after a moment, Ranpo nodded, and stepped out onto the street, Fukuzawa right behind them. Taking the lead once again, Fukuzawa continued on their route, checking the address he’d been given, and the directions on his phone, to make sure that they were heading in the right direction. And sure enough, after a couple more turns, they arrived at the parlour.

It was an inconspicuous building, off the main road, and just advertised as a parlour with no indication at being for tattoo’s. For the best really, since Fukuzawa was certain that there were enough people with cruel intentions that would target such a building. It was still Japan after all, and even though attitudes were changing, there was still a lot of negativity; part of the reason why Fukuzawa had been hesitant to suggest the idea in the first place, not wanting Ranpo to be ostracised even more than they already had been.

He pushed open the door, allowing Ranpo to step past him before he followed and shut it quietly behind him. The inside was clean and homey, paintings and books scattered across the walls, a couple of televisions, and a couch. It was like they’d stepped into someone’s home rather than a tattoo parlour, and Fukuzawa was grateful that for once, Mori’s information had actually been good.

There was only one other person in the store, a man that appeared younger than Fukuzawa, who looked up and greeted them with a smile. “You must be Fukuzawa-san, and Ranpo-san. Nice to meet you, you can call me Daisuke. I’ve been told you’re here to cover up a scar.”

Of course Mori figured it out. Fukuzawa fought the urge to roll his eyes. Nosy doctor. “Yes, that is correct.” He gestured towards Ranpo. “I was told you would overlook age for this.”

Ranpo ducked behind him, using Fukuzawa as a shield.

Daisuke just smiled warmly at them before looking up at Fukuzawa. “Of course. Usually we’re closed today, so there’s no chance of someone stumbling upon us. And we have all day, so we can take our time. I will need to take a look to see what I’m working with though.”

Behind him, Ranpo tensed.

Fukuzawa stepped to the side and placed his hand between Ranpo’s shoulders, hopefully to be seen as both reassurance, and encouragement to the teen. “I’ll be right here, Ranpo. Remember what I said.”

“Don’t let it control me.” Ranpo responded, repeating his words from the previous day. They took a deep breath, and stepped forward to follow Daisuke into his workspace.

Fukuzawa sat on the couch, and although he tried to focus his attention on literally anything else, he found himself watching Ranpo and Daisuke carefully. There were words being spoken between the two, not that Fukuzawa could hear what was being said, but it meant that things weren’t going wrong, which was good. And then Ranpo was unbuttoning their shirt, just enough that they could pull it to the side to reveal the scar. The sight of the teeth marks filled Fukuzawa with a familiar rage that he was quick to squash down.

He had to give credit to Daisuke though; the artist leant down to study the mark, but didn’t reach out to touch it, and he was standing back far enough that he wasn’t encroaching on Ranpo’s space. This meant that aside from the tension that was simply nerves, Ranpo was far more comfortable, and as the two of them shifted to stand over a tablet, they began to relax even further, until there was no tension at all, and Ranpo was smiling in excitement.

A fond smile graced Fukuzawa’s own face, and he was pleased with himself that he’d managed to do something right in this long journey of healing. That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t succeeded before now, because he had, and Ranpo had told him as such, but it was still good to see the fruits of his efforts—Ranpo truly had come far since he’d taken them in. Gone was the scrawny child with trauma packed onto their shoulders; instead, there was a healthy teen, still with trauma because such things never truly left a person, that continued to grow and succeed.

It made Fukuzawa feel proud.

“Fukuzawa-san.” Ranpo’s voice caught his attention, and he looked up to see the younger standing in front of him, a piece of paper in his hand. The moment he lifted his head, Ranpo thrust the paper beneath his nose. “What do you think?”

On the paper was a simple design; flowers, familiar for some reason, yet Fukuzawa couldn’t place where he’d seen them, with pink and yellow. “It’s nice.” He said, smiling softly. “What kind of flowers are they?”

“They’re cacti flowers.” Ranpo explained. “We saw them once in a shop. I like them, and cacti are hardy, being able to survive the harshest of conditions, and… so have I.”

“You have.” Fukuzawa handed the paper back to Ranpo. “It’s a good meaning.”

“Great!” Ranpo beamed at him. “I knew you’d agree with me.”

Fukuzawa hummed. Of course you did. “Do you want me to sit with you?”

Ranpo shook their head. “I want to do this on my own.”

“I understand. I shall wait here for you then.”

Fukuzawa passed the time by reading one of the many books, although he found that he couldn’t focus on the book with the incessant buzzing in the room. Many times, he had to fight the urge to check on Ranpo, especially when the teen would made a pained noise, but Ranpo had said that they wanted to go through it by themselves, so Fukuzawa would respect that wish. He also vowed to never again step foot into a tattoo parlour. Sitting around and waiting was by far the worst pastime that one could engage in, and he was not inclined to do so again.

If for some reason, Ranpo desired another tattoo when they were older, they would go alone.

Although Fukuzawa knew that if they asked, he would go.

He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed since the buzzing had started, but he was acutely aware of it when it stopped, and looked up. From his current position, Fukuzawa couldn’t see what exactly was happening behind the curtain that had been drawn, but he could hear Daisuke instructing Ranpo how to care for the tattoo, and the sound of plastic being handled. He waited patiently, curious to see how the tattoo had turned out, but when Ranpo appeared, his shirt was buttoned up.

Ranpo caught sight of his expression and held up a finger towards him, grinning. “Nuh-uh, Fukuzawa-san! You have to be patient and wait until we get home to see it!”

And really, Fukuzawa shouldn’t have been surprised at such a decision. “I see.”

At that moment, Daisuke spoke up, holding out a small paper bag. “I’ve instructed Ranpo how to care for the tattoo until it heals. I’ve wrapped it in plastic, so you’ll need to leave it there for a few hours before you remove it, and afterwards, apply this cream twice daily for two weeks. It’ll get itchy once it starts to peel, but try not to scratch it. Any concerns, just give me a call and I’ll come by and check on it.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa stood and bowed before taking the bag; inside there was a sheet of paper—no doubt with care instructions—a business card, and a tube of antiseptic cream. “We appreciate you doing this.”

“I’m always happy to replace bad memories with good ones.” Daisuke smiled at them. “Just don’t go spreading it around that I tattooed a teenager though.”

“Of course.”

Fukuzawa paid Daisuke for his trouble, leaving a generous tip to show his thanks despite the man protesting initially before finally caving and accepting, and once that was done, began the trek home to their apartment.

For once, Ranpo was quiet, subdued even, and Fukuzawa gave into their request to be carried the moment it was made; it was obvious that they were tired after the events of the day, and Fukuzawa was not a cruel person. So he carried Ranpo on his back, listening to the quiet snores that filled his ear whilst the teen dozed on his back. The walk back to their apartment went much faster than the one to the parlour—at least, in Fukuzawa’s mind it did, and before he knew it, he was wrangling the door open and depositing Ranpo on the couch—gently—to regain their energy.

While Ranpo slept, Fukuzawa busied himself with reading the care instructions, finding them easy enough to follow, and just like Daisuke had described. The only problem he foresaw happening, was Ranpo forgetting to use the cream, but that was an easy enough problem to deal with. He just had to remind Ranpo, something he was more than used to do doing from how often he needed to do so. If it wasn’t the simplest of tasks, it was paperwork for the Agency they were building, and if it wasn’t the paperwork, it was making sure Ranpo wrote their deductions down for the police to put into their case files.

So yes, he was more than prepared to handle the task given to him.

“Are you ready?” Fukuzawa asked, standing in the bright light of the bathroom, Ranpo standing beside him.

Ranpo nodded, lifting their hands to unbutton their shirt. The appendages were shaking slightly, and Ranpo’s expression was once again one of nerves. Expected given the circumstances, and Fukuzawa wanted to reach over and wrap his arms around the teen.

But he refrained from doing so, for that was not his role right now.

His presence in the bathroom was to be a silent one. He was simply there as moral support, there to do nothing but watch as had been asked of him earlier. He stood to the side, hands in his sleeves as he watched Ranpo shrug their shirt from their shoulders, revealing the plastic that was stained with ink, concealing the artwork underneath.

Ranpo took in a breath, eyes focused on the tattoo, as they reached up to unwrap the plastic. The shaking in their hands subsided, and a determined look fell upon Ranpo’s face. And in a few seconds, the plastic came free, revealing a bouquet of pink that covered Ranpo’s shoulder, the skin shiny and… slimy. But still, the artwork was clear, beautifully crafted, as if Ranpo’s skin was not his skin, but a canvas to be shaped.

And underneath the ink, was a scar that one would fail to notice unless they were searching for it.

“It’s beautiful.” Fukuzawa said, stepping closer to see the tattoo.

Ranpo smiled. There was a thickness to their voice as they answered. “Yeah… it is…”

Fukuzawa looked over, concerned, and saw tears building in Ranpo’s eyes. He moved to wrap his arm around Ranpo, being mindful of his shoulder, and drew him closer. “Are those happy tears?”

“Yeah.” Ranpo’s voice cracked on that single word, and a few tears slipped down their cheeks. “Yeah, they’re happy tears. It’s just—a lot—I’m not sure how to…”

“That’s okay.” Fukuzawa soothed, giving Ranpo a gentle squeeze. “All that matters is that you are happy and that you like it.”

A sniff, and a wet laugh. “I do, I like it a lot. And I am very happy.”

Good, Fukuzawa thought, feeling tears prick his own eyes.

He had a feeling that only good things would happen from now on. A very good feeling.

[quiet-nocturne]

answer your 30 questions please and thank you!!!

WOO. HERE WE GO, YA'LL:

ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

How many words have you written this year? Published? 22,685. Unpublished? A loooooot ahaha.

How many works did you publish this year? Currently, 3. Hoping to have 4-5 by christmas though. 👀

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? definitely cause i'm lovesick. That thing was a labor of love. My first fanfic baby in a loooong time.

What work of yours has the most hits? currently cause i'm lovesick (I ain't even ashamed), which is at 735 hits. But it's kind of biased, considering I only came back to fic writing in like october.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? nothing in particular - I'm just happy to have any engagement!

Favorite title you used honestly, no favorite as of yet. All the titles I've used come from song lyrics that are super royai coded/important to me, so I like them all. That answer could definitely change in the future though!

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? most recently, taylor swift (hopeless, breathless, burning slow), but also banks (cause i'm lovesick and you're all that matters to me anyway - she's SO GOOD for angsty love songs). Lyrics are so, so important to me. I have a ~300 song royai playlist (which I'm going to slim down and post here at some point) that I listen to constantly, lol, and a huge notes file on my phone filled with potential song lyric titles. I have a music degree and it's literally so important to my writing process aajsaksjljasjl.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Royai. lol. That's not going to change any time soon. The extreme hyperfixation is REAL.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Again royai. They're the best. My babies. 💖

What work was the quickest to write? Surprising, chapter 2 of hopeless, breathless, burning slow. started it last night and i'm already nearly done the first draft. That thing flew out of me, especially considering chapter 1 was much more of a journey lol.

What work took you the longest to write? definitely chapter 1 of hopeless, breathless, burning slow. it wasn't the writing that was the issue - it was the editing. I really dragged my feet on it, and could have had that thing out like 2 weeks ago. 🤦‍♀️

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? oh god. my wip's currently include: - chapter 2 of hopeless, breathless, burning slow - sequel to cause i'm lovesick (I ain't even ashamed) - a christmas fic - angsty, hurt/comfort, character exploration, ishval restoration multi-chaptered fic (I'm REALLY excited to work on this!!! yay angst) - roy and riza returning to her old father's house post-cannon and STUFF HAPPENS, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc (also really excited for this one! i've been daydreaming about it for MONTHS. Even just thinking about this fic feels like sinking into a warm bath. That's the vibes I want it to give) - ANOTHER post-promised day fic, because I'm a broken record, but this time more humorous/cute. - aaaand yet another post-promised day fic, but one where Riza REALLY ISN'T DOING WELL/almost dies like a million times at the hospital and roy is sad (!!!). - briggs angst/sick fic - does that make sense? no? it will. Yeah. yeahhh. That list is only going to get bigger. 🤷‍♀️ Some of these will also, shockingly, not have smut lol.

What’s your longest work of the year? So far, ch. 1 of hopeless, breathless, burning slow at a whopping 9, 792 words. It really ran away from me.

What’s your shortest work of the year? mmm, you're all that matters to me anyway at 5,954 words. apparently I can't write anything below 5k lol. 🤷‍♀️

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Oof, I mean probably most of what I had listed above. I aim to have some of it done - but it's already December 7th, so yeah.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Smut. lol.

Your favorite character to write this year? Surprisingly, Roy. I almost find him easier to write than Riza. Normally I don't enjoy writing from the male perspective. But Roy Mustang is just 🔥. I was so surprised lol.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? No one, as of yet. But we'll see what I say once I start working more on the multi chaptered fics. 😬

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? More Royai, maybe with a dash of Roy/Maes. Maybe I'll try a bit of Ed/Winry? Who knows!

Which work of yours have you reread the most? chapter 1 of hopeless, breathless, burning slow. I am so fucking sick of it ahaha helppp.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? Currently at 142! You are all so sweet. 😭

Which work has the most comments? I think cause i'm lovesick at the moment!

Did you do any collaborative works this year? nope! Definitely something I'd consider doing in the future though!

Did you write any gifts this year? maybe! 👀 we shall see

Did you receive any gifts this year? nope!

What’s your most common category? ...Smut. lol. 🤷‍♀️

What do you listen to while writing? ahhhh I love talking about music with my ships! like I said, my ridiculously huge royai playlist. also all of my top songs on spotify were from it, which includes: 1. Say Yes to Heaven - Lana Del Ray (i've got my eye on you / i've got my mind on you) 2. Work Song - Hozier (no grave could hold my body down / i'll crawl home to her) 3. I Wanna Be Yours - Artic Monkeys (secrets i have held in my heart / are harder to hide then i thought / maybe i just wanna be yours) 4. Night We Met - Lord Horan feat. Pheobe Bridges (i had all and then most of you / some and now none of you / take me back to the night we met / i don't know what i'm supposed to do / haunted by the ghost of you) - that ishval restoration fic is definitely going to use a lyric from this song SOMEWHERE Honorable mentions: Die First - Nessa Barrett (someone dies or someone gets hurt / but if one of us dies / i hope i die first) Ya'aburnee - Halsey (i'll never know / if there's danger in confession / or it's memory that presses / like a blade against my throat / another word and i could choke / but what's worst? / tellin' you my feelings / or to die without revealing / that you got inside my head / and set a fire there instead?) Dress - Taylor Swift (there is an indentation in the shape of you / made your mark on me, a golden tattoo / all of this silence and patience / pining and anticipation / my hands are shaking from holding back from you) 10000/10, would play at royai's wedding.

Favorite work you wrote this year? cause i'm lovesick. Again, it was my baby. I loved writing it so much.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? mmmm, probably: "She'd planned to stay angry at Mustang for longer, but then he'd surprised her by sauntering into her apartment basically the second his train had arrived, eyes blazing with desire as he collected her in his warm embrace, murmuring you have no idea how much I've been craving to taste you against the soft skin of her throat." (I tried to find one that was mostly sfw lol).

Biggest surprise while writing this year? Just being able to write, in general! It's been so much fun. 💖

[pretentiouswreckingball]

20 questions for fic writers!

thank you for the tag lovely kay @xjustakay <3

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

Six so far!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

57,991 —which might not seem much but still, very proud of it, specially because a year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed writing that many words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far only marauders, but I have some drarry/golden trio era in the making, as well as some PJO and GO so, we’ll see!

4. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

Since I don’t have that many I’ll only put my top three:

Archenemies (or so he thought) -> Sirius hunts down his bestie James for ditching him on a prank and finds him cuddling with the enemy (a black cat) who turns out to be more of a pain in the ass than he expected, especially because for some reason, the little shit acts a lot like his brother.

Don’t threaten me with a good time -> Ah, Black cats, mischievous little things, aren’t they? Known for being a pain in the ass for older brothers, a good companion for best friends and devil incarnated for lovers and love ones alike.

When it rains -> It all comes down to a certain bus stop on a rainy week. Between interesting chats, pastries and being almost ran over by a purple car, there’s something about the person they share the bus stop with that seems familiar. (Basically a bunch of meet-cutes and pinning idiots being, well, idiots)

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

I do, yes! I love responding to comments but sometimes I tell myself I’m going to answer later in the day and I forget :( but I do love comments, they make my day every time. 💘

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

Hands down it will be slow dancing in the dark, the whole fic is quite angsty, at least for me, but I wouldn’t say it has a angsty ending, maybe a little— nvm I just re-read it. Yeah, it’s sad.

7. What is a fic your wrote with the happiest ending?

My babygirl some sunny day, that fic is my go-to when I remember this fandom is based in death, angst and misery hahaha. Some sunny day is like a, well, a ray of sunshine lmao. It has my favorite setting, my fave pairs and some Spanish here and there. Love it dearly.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully no, maybe some weird ones but nothing that I would count as hateful. Really grateful for that, dunno what I would do if I were to receive those on a daily basis, never post again most likely lmao.

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

Haven’t post smut yet but I wrote some, still in the doc and everything but is there, waiting to be posted 😈

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

Not really my thing, no. but maybe! who knows

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, haven’t looked Wattpad yet tho.

12. Have you ever has a fic translated?

No, but if anyone would want to, it would be lovely!

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

It’s in the making, actually! @sequinhaze and I are doing a drarry fic, so there’s that 😌

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

All-time favorite is a not easy to answer, i mean currently it’s drarry and jeggy but my first was Percabeth and Solangelo, I was a sucker for them and still am. So maybe them.

15. What’s a wip you what to finish but doubt you ever will?

The empire of the sun trilogy jsjsjs maybe I’ll finish the first one but the other two seem pretty far away for me right now, but one never knows so.

Also copying Kay’s answer here because my google docs also looks like a graveyard of unfinished works lmao.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I believe I give a solid characterization and maybe storytelling (?? Inner monologue maybe? love to see the chaos i created in my little puppets.

17. What are you writing weaknesses?

Run on sentences, I’ve been told I tend to do that a lot hehe and comas —also it costs me greatly to just write, if I’m not in the mood it’s hard for me to just go for it.

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

1000% I’m favor. Some of my fics have French/Spanish in them, I like the idea of leaving non-spanish speakers to go to the end notes or to google translate or straight-up wonder what the hell I’m talking about jsjsj

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Some 1D and JB back in the day, so you bet your asses y/n and I were besties

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

About time, scars and the brightest stars is my absolute favorite. That fic is the love of my life, it has everything I love and more and rn I can put the link bc I took it down so I can finish it all and post it in one go but yeah, that one.

no pressure tags: @sequinhaze @a-fiery-fox @residentrookie @magswrite @fruityindividual @nevvaraven @inevitablestars @arakhnee

[trashy-corvian]

Sooo... I wrote a thing?

And I don't like how it turned out. My biggest respect to all the real writers out there. Yall are fucking superhumans and i fear your power.

I wanna say in advance that I'm:

-not a native english speaker

-haven't written anything in years

It's set in my switched au, the moment that kickstarted Val's and Mammon friendship. If you think Mammon is ooc, that's because he is! Check my previous post for more info on his personality in this au.

It's ~3400 words. I almost cringed to death while writing. Enjoy?

Val's upbringing made them a patient person. They could get angry, of course. In fact, they did so very often. But the loving ways of their mother hit them enough times to realise that showing negative emotions only lead to bad things. So, Val learned to bear and accept it. After all, the best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.

But the last week was more akin to a hurricane than a simple drizzle.

In the span of a week, Val had to accept a lot of things. Both God and the Devil are real. The Devil's bimbo son decided it was good for his people's enrichment to kidnap a human. Everyone here wants Val either gone, dead, or served on a platter. (Beel said they smell like they would go nicely with something citrusy.) They were thrust back into school and shown that literal demons respected your pronouns more than your actual family. (This one stings a little, Val's not gonna lie.)

Not to mention this fucking building.

The main thing you need to know about the Prince is that he's a person of grand plans and ideals. He wants what he thinks is best for everyone. And he's filthy rich. That makes him a person with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever and the foresight of a blind, drunk elephant in a glass shop.  So, when it came to the matter of building an actual school, Diavolo, who is more of a sky castle guy, just put his best architect to the task. Said architect was a demon of tradition, knew only how to construct castles and had the flexibility of a battering ram.

Royal Academy of Diavolo! The grand stronghold of the Prince's plan. Quite the accurate description, for it could not only withstand an assault but successfully hold in itself a lot of students. The fact that said students often get trapped in the labyrinth of education was laughed off in a typical Diavolo fashion. But even Barbatos, the royal bat, would agree that R.A.D was a series of halls, staircases, and dead ends with the occasional room or even door if the Fates were feeling generous.

Val had accepted a lot of things and apparently, it was now time to accept that they were lost. Spoons were disappearing with increasing speed and a knife cabinet was looking more enticing with each passing second.

The school day was over hours ago. Simeon, who told them he'd have to skip cleaning duty, ran away with the promise to meet them at the exit. At the question of how they could find the way out, the grinning fucker just winked.

"You call a lot of things down here idiotic, so that means you think yourself smart, maggot. I'm sure you'll find the exit easily with your big maggot brain. "

"Uyobok huev"—turning yet another corridor, Val gripped the bag, cursing loudly. Maybe Lucifer would magically appear to lecture them about their language and get them to the exit.

They got to the first floor. That was good. It was getting late. That was bad. Sleeping at the academy would be inconvenient, not to mention utterly humiliating. Val stopped in front of a large window, showing them the grounds in front of R.A.D and a little bit of the city. The place was beautiful, and even their shut-in nature couldn't stop them from wanting to explore it. They placed their hands on the glass and imagined all the places they could go. If only they could get out of this wretched place to the freedom on the other side of the gla-

Wait.

Val quickly thought of what could get them that freedom. Diavolo would laugh it off, while Lucifer ...would be pissed. The following cackle would earn them some points in demon society if there were somebody there to hear it. The inner garden wasn't far, and Val remembered seeing some stones on the ground. 

They grinned.

The knife cabinet was open.

"...What are you doing?"

Blyat.

Getting lost wasn't enough. They had to embarrass themself too.

In front of them stood an angel, a real one. Mammon, they thought his name was. They never exchanged more than a few words and the occasional greeting in the halls. He was... strange. Exuding an air of authority, always looking out of place but desperately trying to look like it doesn't affect him. Every time they spoke, he asked about the brothers and how they were doing but once one of them showed up on the horizon, he ran away with some flimsy excuse. One conversation with Lucifer let them know that there was history between them. And not in the "We fought to the death on opposite sides of the devastating war" way. Val got the sense that it was something more personal. Not their problem. As long as he wasn't trying to convert them, Val couldn't care less.

Mammon looked at them and tilted his head in a way that reminded Val of a bird. His gaze drifted to the bag they were dragging behind them.

"What did you put in there? It didn't appear to be that heavy in the morning", he asked.

Val shrugged their shoulders, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Distract him with small talk and make him leave. "And how do you know? Did you watch me or something? "

Surprisingly, he looked away bashfully at that. Cute.

"W-well, I'm just trying to keep an eye out since you're living with my- with the demons."

"Uh-huh. If they decide to kill me, I'll let you know." They won't mention the slip up, despite their curiosity. They needed him gone.

But Mammon looked at them again, his brows furrowing in contemplation. "You're late, visibly tired and carrying that bag, which is obviously too heavy for you." His tone grows steely. "Where's Simeon? He's your guardian here."

Val scoffs, adjusting the hold on the bag.

"Fucker left me here, said he'd wait at the entrance. And I'll empty the bag once I enact my plan."

"Plan?", Mammon asks, curious.

"I'm going to use the bag to escape from this place of oppression with the act of righteous vandalism so I can topple the ruling class and destroy the monarchy."

The following silence was interrupted only by the sound of some bird flapping its wings outside. Val watched with growing amusement as the angel's face displayed first a halt and then the intense thinking process happening in his feathered brain. Then, very slowly, he reached out his hand towards them.

"I can help you." That sounded like a declaration.

"... Surprising but okay. Let's get you some rocks, pretty boy. "

"What? No!" He looked delightfully scandalised at their proposition. "I mean, I can help YOU. It's obvious you're lost. I know where the exit is. Allow me to accompany you."

Another beat of silence.

Val slowly turned their gaze towards the window. "Ok, after a little act of vandalism."

"Wait-"

"I've already put rocks in there and wasted my time dragging them here."

"I don't see how-"

"Not to mention the dirt. My books are ruined and my hands are all dusty and gross. I need to get some gratification after all this hard work."  Val, putting hand on their hip, casted a challenging look at the angel, who stood speechless in front of them.

"So what can you possibly say to quell the raging spirit of rebellion in me?"

That made Mammon think. He lowered his eyes, hiding them behind his white and possibly very fluffy hair. The silence stretched and Val was about to just go and smash the damn window but then, Mammon lifted his head and for the first time, Val locked eyes with him.

Oh no.

They felt their grip on their bag slipping. "Please?" He didn't have to say anything at all; Val knew they had lost already. This was just a control shot.

"... You'll put the rocks back in. I'm not touching them again, the texture is gross. " They started heading towards the garden.

They're very tired and don't have the energy to argue. That's how Val would explain their fast surrender to themself later. Not because Mammon's eyes looked like the northern lights they love so much.

Mammon, looking relieved, effortlessly lifted the bag and followed them.

For some time, the walk was quiet, for which Val was grateful. They needed to calm their heart. The angel on the other hand looked fidgety, clearly wanting to say something. Eventually, he opened his mouth.

"So...", he timidly started, scratching his neck. "You think I'm pretty?"

Without missing a beat. "You're beautiful." Val would stop there but the way Mammon choked on air, his ears reddening, made them feel a little daring. "Ethereal, I would say. Absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking. Simply radian-"

"Okay, I get it." He turned his head away now, his hand covering his face. "L-let's just walk."

Val chuckled at that. "As you say"

Small victories.

Simeon wasn't at the entrance. Val was an idiot for even thinking he would wait for them. Shoulders slumped in exasperation, they tried to remember the path back to the house. Maybe they would get killed on the way, that'd definitely create some trouble for the fucker and maybe Diavolo would realize how shitty his approach was.

Mammon started to speak, bringing them back to reality with that fucking smooth voice of his. "Maybe he's still in the school." He looked around trying to spot the demon among the scenery. "Or he's waiting in the cafe nearby. We could check-"

"WE won't do anything. You go back to minding your own business and I go back to the house." Was it too forceful? Val didn't care at this point. Simeon was a dick, Diavolo was an idiot and this whole exchange program was a trash fire. They jerked away from the angel as they planned to walk in the general direction of the house.

Only for them to bump into said angel who, with inhuman speed, now stood in front of them. Crossing his arms, Mammon was looking at them with a serious expression.

"It's too dangerous. You can't go alone."

"And what will you do about it? Accompany me? Hell, you can stay for dinner. I'm sure brothers will LOVE that. I can even ask Lucifer about his scar to set the mood." They almost regretted their words when Mammon flinched. Were they less tired, they would apologize but now they only threw one last look at Mammon before sidestepping him. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Come with me."

Val stopped. Slowly, they turned around and looked up at the angel. He seemed surprised at his own words but quickly collected himself again. Val decided not to mention his darkened cheeks.

"You can spend the night at purgatory hall. We have a spare room and some clothes for you."

"Luke and Solomon-"

"Won't mind." He took a step closer, his tone gentle. "You'll be my guest. Plus, Luke has never had a sleepover with anyone but me before. He would love to have you there... I-I would love to have you there. "

No one says something like that after a week of barely talking. No one looks at them with concern after getting to know them. Especially not beautiful angels who just don't have someone better to talk to. They must have looked pathetic right then. They needed to cut it out and fast.

"You don't want me at purgatory hall."

"Val, what-"

"You don't want ME." Val raised their voice. Shut him up. Make him listen. He'd never stick around them, so it was better to save them both the time and finish it now. "You just want to make a stupid little human feel better so you can put a gold star on your angel resume. Solomon doesn't want me. He just wants someone to make him feel human again. Luke is just a child. I'm not wanted at your home! "

Val was glad no one was here to witness this pathetic display. Only Mammon, whose expression morphed into one of shock. Good, anything was better than concern.

"Demons wanted to snack on me, my soul or both. Diavolo just wants a human who will smile and go along with every fucking whim of his. Levi wants me to leave him alone. Satan wants a toy to make Lucifer mad. Asmo wants another hook up and Simeon wants me dead. You're all acting like Lucifer is the biggest asshole. And he is but you know what?! At least he's honest about seeing me as nothing more than an annoyance!"

The last words came out choked. Were they crying? They were. Shit. Fuck.

Mammon, looking like a blob because of the tears in Val's eyes, took a tentative step towards them, hand reaching for their shoulder.

"Val...", he started, sounding almost near tears himself.

"NO! Shut the fuck up! Don't touch me, don't speak to me. Just go home and forget this ever happened. " That was it. This was the biggest humiliation of their life. He'd tell Solomon, Solomon would tell Asmo and then the whole Devildom would know about the miserable, hysteric-prone human. No, no no. They were going to go and find the biggest demon they could, who would spare them from the misery of living. Or, if they made it to the house, they would ask Lucifer about his scar or Belphegor. Probably both, just to be sure.

Sudden pressure on their head made Val look up. They were met with the striking cold fire of Mammon's eyes as he gently stroked their hair. His gaze was so soft, Val swore they were going to cry again.

"Val." Mammon wets his lips, looking almost unsure. "I'm sorry I upset you. And you don't have to say or share anything right now.. But I just want you to know that-" 

His potentially heart-warming speech was interrupted by the loud roaring of a wild beast... which was locked in the angel's stomach, apparently. Both broke eye contact. Mammon looked away with embarrassment and Val looked down at his toned - no, shut up, not now - abdomen.

Val seized the opportunity to avoid the emotionally charged conversation with the tenacity and speed seen only in the most socially awkward and ADHD-afflicted individuals.

"Did you skip lunch or something?" They tried their best to sound nonchalant. Please get distracted. Please get distracted, please-

"Uh yeah." Jackpot. "I was busy with the... student stuff."

That student stuff included avoiding Lucifer at all cost, who happened to be at the cafeteria today.  Val would point that out, but that would probably end the head pats. So they chose another approach instead. "And you didn't buy something later because?..." Did his ears get darker? Fucking adorable.

"I- uh- couldn't afford to?.."

What.

"What."

Mammon retracted his hand (damn) to scratch his neck. He looked really conflicted for a while. He was probably debating how much trouble lying would bring him if he was already in Hell. Eventually, he settled on: "I don't have any money left."

Val blinked at that. "You mean the money Diavolo gave us."

"Yes."

"The money, which could cover my monthly rent and still some. The money Diavolo gave us should last a month. That money? "

"...Yes."

"Did you spend it on blackjack and hookers?"

Oh yeah, now he's definitely blushing. Letting out an undignified squawk, he almost shouted. "No! I gave it away!"

Val pinched the bridge of their nose. Please, don't tell them it meant what they thought it meant.

"There were demons who needed it more than me. I'll be okay, it's no big deal. A day or two without food won't kill me." It sounded almost rehearsed, like he had to give that explanation a thousand times before.

"Of fucking course. Gorgeous and soft-hearted. Next thing you tell me you have pet birds, Mr. One avian away from being perfect."

That wasn't the reply he was expecting. Eyes widening, doing a Ghibli-like puff up, Mammon started babbling something incomprehensible.

Val shouldn't care. He may act decent and look dreamy, but he was an angel. Worse than demons in their self-righteousness. He didn't even need to eat, for fucks sake. He said so himself.

But he doted on Luke. He looked like a kicked puppy whenever Levi was around. Satan said he saw him baby talking to some stray cats. Lucifer avoided him. The other brothers avoided him too. Demons scowled at him and Solomon distrusted him because of something Asmo had told him.

Nobody wanted him here.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the recent emotional breakdown or a simple weakness for a soft-hearted fool but Val felt strangely calm as they took his hand and tugged the angel in the direction of the city. If they turned around right now, they would see the most adorable expression of confusion on Mammon's face. Striking blue eyes darted around before settling on their joined hands.

"I'm glad you're feeling better now." He smiled softly at the short human.

"Emotions are fleeting, hunger is now. I'm buying you some food, pretty boy." Val was pretty sure Beelzebub talked about a nice burgers you could buy somewhere around here...

"Wait, you don't have to-"  Mammon started but was quickly interrupted by the wave of Val's free hand. "The monster in your stomach disagrees. C'mon, you don't wanna scare Luke." The angel stopped. The sudden halt almost made Val stumble back, but the cold hand held them steady.

"Please, I assure you, it's fine. You're the one who needs rest. I don't want you to stretch yourself thin because of me." That made them meet Mammon's gaze again. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes silently begging Val to drop the issue.

"Oh, I see how it is." Val slowly said.

Mammon tilted his head in confusion. Val tried their best to look as offended as possible. "Too good to take food from a human, huh? I figure you feathered lot are an arrogant bunch. You helped me to get out, now let me help you."

Now it was Mammon's turn to look offended but it was sincere in his case. He tuged at Val's hand, bringing them close. They swore they were not blushing. "I helped you because I wanted to, not to make you indebted to me and if someone tries to force a debt on you, come to me." He looked serious again. "I'll deal with them."

No, shut up, heart! They were not having a doki-doki moment. They'd scream into a pillow later, but now they had to deal with a hungry bird boy.

"Ohh, so you can help me out from the goodness of whatever you have for a heart but when I, the lowly human, try to do that, it isn't okay suddenly. Why? Too high and mighty to accept kindness from a mortal?"

Mammon huffed at that in a childlike manner and shook his head in exasperation. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Val's smirk was too smug for the angel's liking when they spoke again.

"Do I? Then explain to me, pretty boy, what's stopping you from coming with me?"

He lost this argument. He knew this. Letting out a long sigh, he just nodded at them and started walking in the direction Val was leading them both. But before they could smugly declare their win, Mammon squeezed their hand, promptly shutting them up.

"Okay but while I won't talk about your previous words until you want me to", he continued, locking eyes with them to empathize his point. "I still think you should come over for a little slumber party. Going back to Lucifer and Simeon would be... counterproductive. "

"Ain't that the truth. Fine, but a fair warning: I'm difficult to deal with when I'm sleepy."

"That's okay", Mammon smiled, too bright and honest for their heart to handle. "I think I love dealing with you."

That shut Val up for the rest of the walk to the café, much to Mammon's amusement.

A soft-hearted fool indeed.

[malanor3]

I’m currently brainstorming a Part 2 to In My Soul

Before I get into it, thank you all so so much for the support on my first piece, which if you have not read you can find it here. 🥰 I used to write on Wattpad years ago (yes, you can laugh) but I lost my passion for writing a long while ago. I’ll write things for myself here and there, but I don’t think without this fandom that I would have entertained the idea of writing again. What the world of fan fiction has done for me cannot be understated. I relish these communities with my heart and soul, and people like you who read things like this in passing and feel the need to love and support it have no clue how special you are. You help writers like us feel seen, heard, and appreciated. Even if we’re just writing about pixels, you make the experience so much more important. To you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Going further, however, I don’t want to pressure myself into overworking. I miss posting and seeing people interact and interacting with other posts, but all I can remember was the reason I had stopped writing in the first place; the demand for it. Not from anyone other than me, but I would tend to hold myself to a certain level and when I couldn’t achieve 3 uploads in a week I would beat myself up for it. I just ran my fuse too short to the point where writing was no longer enjoyable. Moving forward I think it would be best to be forthright and tell you all that posts may very well be few and far between. I will continue to interact with posts and share content that I love, but when it comes to writing I will be sure to post when I am able to finish something. What I can promise is that I won’t leave anyone high and dry. I’ll be sure to make updates, but these things take time and a lot of patience on my end. With un-medicated ADHD I tend to bounce around a lot of ideas and I take on too much work for my brain to properly comprehend what I’m doing.

On that note, I have been brainstorming ideas for a potential Part 2 to In My Soul, but I’m not definitive on that. I’m only putting this out as a feeler, but if I were to extend it into a series it would be a short one. Maybe at max a 3 parter. I wouldn’t mind for it to stay as a stand-alone work, but I had a few interesting ideas of where I could take it. If that’s something you’d all be interested in, please let me know! ⬇️

I’m finishing my Plus Sized Tav x Astarion fluff one-shot at the moment. I hope to be done with it in the next few days, so keep an eye out 😘

And of course be sure to give my Welcome Page a read.

[nataliedanovelist]

So a few days ago, @fanficmaniatic made a post, a fun little theory you can read here.

This inspired me in more ways than I can say. My writer’s block that had been concrete for several months was smashed to pieces, and I decided to push myself in a slightly different way, taking a slightly different approach than previous works. I had an idea, and I ran with it. When I couldn’t run, I walked. and when I couldn’t walk, I crawled. Bottom line: I am excited to announce a multi-chapter fic coming very soon!

I will happily gush about how much this fandom has impacted me the last few weeks, but for now, please enjoy a sneak peak at my newest fic,

The Apocalypse That Was, But Never Is.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cassandra opened the door in her gray sweatpants and hockey t-shirt. She raised an eyebrow at the teenager at her door and said, “Sorry, but I have a vacuum cleaner that works, and I’m too broke for charities or fundraisers.”

Casey’s face turned red and he pulled on the collar of his t-shirt. “Uh, n-no. I… uh, I’m… Um, wh-what I mean to say is… um…”

April hurried to Casey’s side and greeted with a loud, “Cassandra! CJ! MY main queen! What’s shakin’, bacon?!”

“This should be fun.” Cass said, leaning against the doorway with an amused smile. Say what you want about April O'Neil, but a day with her was never boring.

April chuckled nervously, then put a hand on Casey’s trembling back, and said, “Cassandra Jones, I’d like you to meet Casey Jones.”

Casey wasn’t exactly sure how to start delivering the news, but she was a journalism major in college, and that was way better than anything Casey could come up with.

The last three weeks Casey had tried to imagine what his mom might do when she met him. Be confused? Be excited she’s a mom? Be bummed she’s a mom at eighteen? Laugh it off? Dismiss him? Accept him?

What he didn’t expect (but probably should have expected), was for once she learned someone else had her name, she pulled out her hockey stick, raised it for an attack, and screamed, “THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!”

“CASS, NO!”

[cljordan-imperium]

WIP AITA TAG

Rules: write a WIP intro in the style of a Reddit AITA post.

I was tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin

I'm going to tag - @on-noon, @frostedlemonwriter and @shipping-through-eternity and OPEN TAG

I already did my WIPs HERE if you missed it, so I'm going to take a page from the one who tagged me and do some characters.

I've picked a few that I think you'll appreciate

Dez

I (M/900ish) accidentally scare the shit out my once best friend's little sister so bad that she ran out into Chicago and was lost for 3 weeks. Later I kind of died and when I came back from the dead I almost killed her because she was being stubborn and wasn't listening to me. After that, I kind of revealed that everything that happened to her was the fault of another friend of her's mother in a not so nice way. I was told to by The Source, so it's not really my fault. AITA?

Talon

I (M/1300ish) got in a fight with a good friend over jealousy, causing an already frightened female to flee into one of the most dangerous cities in the US. Then I fucked around and didn't really help try to find her because my sister was having relationship troubles. Once she was brought back to the Chicago Sanctuary, I decided to leave with my sister because I was still pissed off at my friend and seeing the two of them working together made it worse. I abandoned my friend for years and when I showed up again, I was a total asshole till I was put in my place by the asshole I got in a fight with in the first place. I was in the process of fixing the past when I convinced a good friend (F/35) to help me get my sister back from The Source. She got stuck in the realm because my step-dad is a douche and almost died. I feel like I fuck everything up. AITA?

Cruz

I (M/none of your damn business) am overprotective of my sister (F/35) to the point I've almost killed an asshole that kidnapped her (M/900ish) and her exhusband (M/Immortal). Some say I get it from out step-father. 1500 years ago I failed a partner who was massacred and I fully gave into the darkness in my nature, completely abandoning the light in my soul. I was barely brought back by a couple of Nephilim. I closed myself off from everyone till I found my sister. Now I am affection to her and those she holds most dear, but I tend to electrocute first and ask questions later of everyone else, especially my grandfather (M/Immortal). I have stopped setting him on fire randomly. AITA?

Olly

I (M/Not Saying) tend to set people annoying me on fire. As the son of the flame keeper of the eternal flame of Heaven, I've enjoyed this for some time. I have a short temper except with certain people. One of my favorite victims is a mouthy grigori (M/900ish) but he's now hanging out with a female nephilm (F/?) who has powers over water, so she can put him out, right? I don't set humans on fire, so it's not like setting on fire can kill them, unless I want it to. AITA?

Thinnius

I (M/I have no clue) had served under a commander I considered a friend (M/Immortal) for centuries. Then the boss went and got a wife (F/35). The babe was wicked cool, and damn did she have some powers. But better than that, she didn't treat us demons like we were less than her angel friends. See that's kinda different than some of those other stuck up bitches that the boss had hung out with. And she paid attention to those of us who hung out around the boss. After a while, I liked her more than him. When push came to shove, I took her side and haven't looked back, even raised arms against him. AITA?

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG (so y'all can enjoy) - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing

[ezzydean]

ok i literally just got here and i actually found you by coincidence in here rather than by your fic (i'm actually not sure if we have any fandoms in common but i loved your blog 😅) BUT. for the fanfic ask meme: questions 1 and 9 for your latest fanfic, and 3 and 11 for your first ever fic! (bonus question: at what age did you write said first fanfic?)

HELLO!!! (I'm sure if you dig enough you can find a common fandom of some kind or another between us :D and if not? that's just as much fun!!) Thank you for sending an ask!

So... here goes... (I am assuming it's for this ask meme, if not then you're getting the answers for this one anyway lol)

1 & 9 for my latest fic which would be soaked soul, bone deep tired

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? this fic was from Steter Week and I did a smushed mess of all the prompts (visual and words) for each day and each of the visual prompts gave me a bit of a vibe I wanted for each day and I just ran with it once the inspiration finally hit. mostly I wanted to write Stiles as the more feral of the two. that was the big inspiration I guess? 9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? there were no other versions of the fic but I did end up rewriting the 3rd chapter a couple of times before I managed to hit the right vibe for it that I was going for

3 & 11 for my first fic. I have no idea what my first fic would be for sure but my first posted on Ao3 (First Breath) is from just over 10 years ago so it would probably be around that time...

3: What’s your favorite line of narration? probably the last lines: The rest of the guys share a knowing look - the crowd was theirs now. They were trapped in the clutches of a predator they never even saw coming. 11: What do you like best about this fic? honestly just the fact that I actually wrote it and posted it and it has a lot of good memories of first getting into fandom as a writer and actually putting my stories out there for people and making new friends

Bonus Question Answer: if we go with that posted fic on Ao3 then I would have been 25, almost 26 (my birthday is in November and I posted that fic not quite a month before my 26th bday) but I've been writing bits and pieces of original stuff since I was... 12 or so.

[iliv3db1tches]

i jumped and began to fall... (it's the closest i'll get to flying)

Genshin Impact | One-Shot

Tags: Traveler not specified (can be interpreted as either Aether or Lumine). They/Them pronouns for Traveler. Selectively Mute Traveler.

(A/N: heyo! new writer new user yada yada. never wrote and posted something publicly before, but i saw this on tiktok and wanted to give it a shot. BTW! i literally just started genshin impact so there is a very high chance this one-shot has incorrect information. other than that, enjoy!)

Prompt: "we all know the infamous xiao saves the traveler scene,, but let me raise you: the traveler, in the heat of the moment, gained back their wings."

idea credit: @upandupandupandupand (tiktok account)

SPOILERS!! (Act III: A New Star Approaches)

Complete. Having all the necessary or appropriate parts.

Make (something) whole or perfect.

(They were missing many. They were broken. Flawed. Tired. So damn tired.)

They could feel something in the air, something that promised a life-altering change.

Yet it went ignored as the Traveler turned to see Keqing strike down the last of the Fatui. Long ago they knew not to dismiss such instincts, as they were crucial to survival and disregarding them led to consequences. But as they looked up at Moon Carver, who began to speak, the blond(e) knew it had to wait. (They didn't notice the buzz increase underneath their skin, nor the sudden ache in their back.)

Fiery golden eyes watched as the adepti fired a powerful beam of gold at Osial. On contact, a massive explosion quickly turned into smoke, obscuring their view of the god. Yet even as the blond(e) hoped, they knew deep down, there was a slim chance it worked.

Their silent judge had been correct, as everyone watched three more heads of the unharmed beast rose out the water. A glass-shattering roar shook the air, making the Traveler tense in anticipation. Next to them, Paimon cheered and pointed out the attack working, thinking victory was already belong to the Qixing and adepti. But the blond(e) knew, there wasn't enough time.

Before they could fire another shot, everyone watched as the ancient god began charging up it's own attack. It quickly merged into a giant blue beam that shot into the stormy sky, disappearing into the gray clouds.

To their left, they heard Keqing let out a small gasp, at the same time big falling beams of blue came straight out of the sky.

While the Millelith and the adepti moved and ran away from the incoming danger, the Traveler remained unmoving. Stiller than stone as they watched those spheres plummeted right at them.

It reminded them of…home.

Of rare nights when two siblings would sit under the night sky and watch bright ball of gas and light fly across the midnight-colored heavens. When they wanted to rest after a week of endless travel, yet couldn't sleep just yet.

Of the stories their twin would tell stories how those stars were new celestials on their way to begin their lives. How they were born the same, all those eons ago, just like those stars.

"𑁋aveler! TRAVELER!"

Blinking, honey-colored optics refocused onto their traveling companion, whose purple eyes were wide and terrified, tears streaming down her face as she frantically tugged on their scarf. She almost seemed to sag in relief when the Traveler focused on her, and immediately started yelling again.

"Paimon and Traveler need to move! NOW!"

As if to emphasize her point, a beam stuck the platform, shaking everyone on it. Regaining their bearings, the blond(e) grabbed their guide/companion and sprinted for the Jade Chamber. Fortunately, they still had the blessings from the three adepti, they made it onto the airborne structure just in time as the floor shattered.

They let go of Paimon, who clung to their clothing and shook slightly. Gently patting their companion's head, they turned to everyone else𑁋

Just in time to see a blue beam hit Xiao, who had protected the other three adepti and some of the Qixing, as they returned to the aircraft, on the head.

Time seemed to slow down, as everyone watched the Adeptus fall back and off the edge of the Jade Chamber, and plummet into the raging sea below.

Millenias ago, before the wars and current civilizations, a pair of reckless "children" loved to dance with danger. Running along steep cliffs or going into caves where great and powerful creatures rest. That day was no different, except for the lightning storm.

Others would find shelter and stay inside until the storm passes, passing the time by sitting in front a fire, read, do some hobbies, or even just sleep the time away. Then once it was back to clear skies, they would go out and resume their daily duties.

The twins, however, weren't like 'others' and played it safe. Instead, they raced through the dark clouds and avoid the bright lightning. Due to being literally inside the storm, the boom of thunder followed immediately after every bolt. But the two were undeterred, laughing as they flew around the peril.

Their wings, unique and ethereal just like the rest of them, allowed them to skirt around like butterflies. To leave the ground go beyond the heavens, and move at speeds no creature could match.

One of the twins had gained the upper hand and got ahead, turning to shoot a grin at the other. They received a challenging smirk, before it quickly turned to horror. As their name was about to leave their tongue, a flash of white struck followed by a bang of thunder.

Blinking, the blond(e) shook their head, then panicked when they didn't see their sibling. They spun around, gold eyes searching around them, before looking down. There, semi-conscious and plummeting down faster than a stone.

Moving before they could think, they immediately let their wings disappear in a small puff of gold sparkles and dove. They called out their siblings name, only to lack both a verbal and physical response.

Emerging from the dark gray cloudy skies, the conscious twin felt saw the ocean rapidly approaching below. Summoning a burst of elemental assistance, they managed to catch up and grab their twin's hand, and re-summoned their wings.

Using all their strength, they pulled back away from the rushing waves. Running on pure adrenaline at the moment, they quickly slung their stunned sibling's arm over their shoulder and held them securely, before quickly shooting off to return to land.

(Later, when they found shelter in a small cave on the cliffside, protect from the storm, they found their sibling wasn't majorly injured. More like getting hit on the temple with a small rock and temporarily being paralyzed.

When their sibling woke up, slightly dazed, they received a hug before a pinch on their side and a quick scolding. All in return, they got a sheepish smile.)

This time was different though. This time, it wasn't two rash twins flying in a storm. This time, it was a bird without wings trying to save another. But they weren't going to let that stop them, not when they could do something.

As they got closer, the buzzing beneath their skin grew, along with the ache in their back. With every passing moment, both falling individuals got closer to the wild deep blue as the wind howled in their ears. It kept reminding the Traveler more and more of that day, to the point of instead of seeing Xiao, they saw their barely-conscious sibling.

Gritting their teeth, they used a burst of Anemo to get closer, grabbing one of the unconscious Adeptus' hands. Once they made contact, memories of a long-gone past replayed in their mind.

Memories of their twin's bright, blinding smile.

Memories of joyous laughter as the raced through the sky.

Memories of the awe when they came across a new world.

Memories of fighting alongside their twin, golden blurs of light in battle.

Memories of watching the day fade into night, after traveling for hours upon hours. Of just enjoying the peaceful silence with their twin.

The buzz turned into a sharp tremor, and the ache became a blinding burn. Before their vision was engulfed by brilliant gleam, they swore they heard their name whispered among the wind by an oh-so missed voice.

'…Sib?'

Back on the Jade Chamber, where the adepti protected everyone else from Osial's attacks, a half-adeptus walked over to Ningguang, worry etched in her features as she asked. "Has there been any sign them?"

The Tianquan shook her head, then was cut off by Cloud Retainer's call.

"Everyone, get back!"

Anymore barely had time to move when something shot up in front of the air, and a strong force of air pushed them all slightly back. Ningguang raised her arms to protect her face, grimacing slightly. When the wind stopped picking at her, she looked up, only to have the air leave her lungs.

Hovering a few feet above them, with an thin semi-transparent outline of gold, was the Traveler. In their arms, the Adeptus that had gotten hit earlier, was held gently against their chest.

But that's not what everyone was focusing on.

From their back, a beautiful pair of wings hovered on their back. Six "feathers" seemingly carved of ivory silk cloth emitted their own shine, all six telekinetically held together with a golden base. Though, there were small red-black square-like tears, and the edges were stained black.

A pressure suddenly felt like was put on her chest, like a weight trying to make it difficult to breathe. It only increased as the Traveler lowered themselves onto the Jade Chamber, paying no heed to the eyes that were on them. They walked a good several feet away from the edge before they gently laid the unconscious adepti on the ground. Golden eyes making sure he wasn't majorly injured before they rose back up, which seemed to break the spell.

A blur of white dashed past them all and crashed into the blond(e)'s chest. Paimon, the Traveler's companion, started babbling something about worrying her, for being stupid and reckless. She didn't stop until she felt the person she was scolding began to lean forward. The little fairy (or whatever she was) pulled back, onto to let out a small "eep!" as the Traveler collapsed forward.

Paimon moved forward as if to check on them, but paused as she watched the Traveler's wing turn into golden particles and fell to the ground like tiny stars. Once they fully disappeared into the atmosphere, Keqing ran over to help. The Yuheng asked if they could stand, to which earned a small nod, and helped them back up. One they were on their feet again (albeit staggering slightly), everyone was suddenly reminded of the current issue by Osial's loud roar.

Despite her questions, Ningguang pushed her questions to the side and focused on the present. Yet, even as she sacrificed her greatest life's work to sink the Overlord of the Vortex, and came to an agreement with the adepti, she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to the blond(e). She couldn't help but wonder: who exactly is the Traveler?

She did know, however, that they were much, much more powerful than any of them thought.

[brasideios]

Writer’s Asks - 2, 7 & 6 :)

Thank you for the ask! 😊

[Sorry for the wee delay - I was out to dinner and couldn't get at my fic folders!]

6. How do I feel about the formatting & publishing on AO3?

The formatting is fine - I find the process of posting mostly good - but the absolute worst part is titles and summaries.

I agonise over it. Once in a while, a title lands in my lap and I’m so happy - but most of the time I stare at the text box for ten minutes with nothing but white noise in my head and anguish in my heart ☺️ then I play title chicken - I pick up a book at random and the first words I see, I tell myself, will be the title. It’s a bad method, and has given me some bad titles that I’ve changed later.

Half the time I don’t know where the story is going so a summary is impossible - my summaries generally get rewritten multiple times as the story progresses.

7. Best comment/tag/review

I absolutely appreciate every single comment - even if it’s just a love heart. I would have quit long ago without these kind and sweet comments. However, the one that totally blew my mind was from someone who had read my Hades fics, then actually played Odyssey so they could read my other fics. I am still gobsmacked that someone would do this.

2. A snippet from an old WIP I never published.

I don't have many, but here is one that I had squirreled away. It's from a Valhalla fic I was thinking about in '21, but this is all there is of it. Ubba and his daughter having a chat.

‘Papa. Where did you get those scars from?’ Ubba smiled down at Norna fondly as she reached out a chubby finger and touched his cheek at the place where the scar tissue jutted out slightly. She was a warm, soft bundle of four-year-old on his lap. She was growing so fast.

‘I got those when I was a boy, not much older than you. Your Uncle, the famous drengr, Ivarr the Boneless, hit me across the face with the blunt side of his axe in a temper.’

‘Why was he in a temper?’

‘Because he wanted me to fight him.’

‘Did you?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘No. I went to my Uncle, and had myself patched up, then I went hunting instead.’

She looked up at him with wide eyes. ‘Why didn’t you want to fight? Mama said you’re a fearsome fighter.’

He smiled more broadly at that, eyes shining, but he said, ‘Sometimes the people around us want us to act against our will. They don’t like to be told no. But those people need someone to stand up to them. They need to be told no.’

She considered this a moment, but didn’t ask any more questions about it just then. Instead, she asked, ‘And the other scar?’

He reached up and touched the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. He almost winced to remember it, but he said, ‘This I got in battle. A neighbouring clan raided our village. I was fourteen summers and I thought I was grown. I was struck by a sword, and I would have gone straight to Valhalla had your uncle Ivarr not struck first. I was lucky.’

‘Did it hurt?’

He vividly recalled the pain. The blade has split the skin of his left brow, cheek and both his lips. Eating and drinking had been excruciating for weeks. 

He said soberly, ‘It did.’

She snuggled her face against the rough wool of his tunic. ‘Poor Papa.’

He held her close with one arm, but sighed at the softness in her - the world was hard and cruel, and one day she would know it. He found he didn’t want her to.

[concerningwolves]

This August marks 5 years that I've been part of the writeblr community and I want to spread the love! I'm going around prompting writers to share some old writing, side by side with newer works, so that we can all celebrate how far we've come.

Respond to this ask or tag me (@westywrites) in a post showing some old writing, and I'll reblog it to shower you with praise for the progress you've made.

And if you'd like, help me encourage others to do the same! 

Oooh this is very cool idea 👀 (also, same hat! August marks my five year writeblr/Tumblr anniversary too!).

I forever regret that I used to routinely purge my laptop of projects that'd been abandoned or on hiatus for too long. It was only in 2014 that I started keeping things, and even then I must've been really picky about what I kept, because there's only one piece of writing from 2014-2016 in there despite my being more prolific in that time period than any other :(

The old writing:

However, I do still have (almost) all of my old notebooks, so! Here's the opening of a story called Vultures Class, the first book I ever finished. I wrote it somewhere between the ages of 7–9 (while in first school, and also while obsessed with X-Men animated series and X-Men: Evolution). Corrected spelling and added paragraphs for readability's sake, but everything else is as written.

Chapter one: the Dream One night a young boy screamed and yelled in his sleep. Then suddenly he awoke. A voice in the flesh was saying "wake up". He immediately snapped awake startled and breathing so fast that it was like being in very thin mountain air. "Don't worry" Emma was saying for she was the young girl who owned the voice. "Ensiy what's up?" asked new team member Clara. "I ... I have no idea well er well yes I had this very scary dream" stumbled Ensiy (Ensiy is the young boy who starts this story) "Well well well we can't have a leader who's going to yell in his sleep" teased Clone. He had been going round teasing all the team members ever since he started two weeks ago which was very annoying because it was making everyone grumble about him to Professor White.

Bonus: this was an illustrated book

The new writing:

And for my newer writing, here's a snippet from a free-to-read low fantasy short story of mine, The Seal Daughter. I posted it at the start of 2022, but it took me about two years to write and polish so it isn't technically the newest thing I've written – I'm just very proud of it.

Briana’s new red boots flashed in the sun as she ran down the steep cliff path. She was four years old today, practically a grownup. Her whole world was the sea, the sky, the salty air, and all of it was open to her like a flower to the sun. Da was somewhere behind her, calling out for her to slow down, but Briana paid him no heed. ‎ The previous night’s storm had died away, leaving behind clear skies and ravaged earth. The path beneath her feet was still slick where the rain had washed across loose dirt, revealing small rocks that jutted from the ground like teeth. Her foot struck one of these rocks. Briana’s world blurred. Faster and faster she fell, until she couldn’t tell where her skin ended and the unforgiving stones began. She didn’t even have a chance to scream. Something soft broke the fall as abruptly as it began. For a long time, Briana could only lie there. Stunned. White spots danced in front of her eyes. She couldn’t make sense of what had happened, what was still happening: The fall was over, but something was very, very wrong. A thick stench filled Briana’s nose. Bitter, foul, almost coppery. She lifted a hand in front of her face. Something red dripped from her fingers onto her cheek. She stared at it, trying to make sense of the new, fizzing sensation churning in her gut. Its fizziness reminded her of excitement – but excitement had never made her feel sick before. Then her father was there, lifting her out of the gore. He hadn’t called her Briana then; he’d used her not-name, whispering it over and over as he rubbed her back. Looking over his shoulder through teary eyes, Briana saw dark shapes down on the thin strip of beach between the base of the cliffs and the waves. They were seals, but Briana had never seen seals lie so still and calm. The surf that swirled around them was pink. Da was walking fast, the beach swiftly growing smaller, but he wasn’t fast enough. Briana’s gaze locked on a patch of light amongst the dark, silent forms. A face. It was small and seafoam-pale, a single blue eye staring out from locks of matted hair. Briana felt that eye watching her for a long time after Da turned a bend in the path and the beach vanished from view.

Thank you for this ask, it was a lot of fun! (even though rereading Vulture Class always fills me with an indescribable yet excruciating emotion 😂)