#later on i discovered how much more joy to find (more stories to read) in EN so i studied the blade

[vagabond-umlaut]

cauterize; cicatrize

Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again.

▸ ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he does not have any vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; FLUFF, ANGST & HUMOR; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader; SO MUCH OF PINING & UNRESOLVED TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO, I SWEAR!!!; brief mentions of food

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! [note: each and every character is 18+ in this story :)]

▸ based on the ask sent by @yuujispinkhair for my milestone event. TYSM WINTER!! 🫶🫶🫶 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"It's so difficult to know when the gentle flame of love becomes the harsh flame of ruin– isn't it, baby?"

Furious eyes gleam back in the shitty ceiling lights of the restaurant, the very second the waitress who served you the food earlier, lifts an eyebrow in obvious interest before looking away when you shoot her a mirror image of her expression– A very irked call of your name pulls your gaze back to your husband—

No! No! No!!

Ex-husband.

Married to you, over one thousand years back.

No longer is he your terrifying darling husband.

Sukuna stabs his food with a tad too much force than what's needed, growling, "I may not be who I was before, but, don't forget your place, calling me whatever you want, you pathetic—"

"Did I ever tell you how much of a snack you look with your two arms, baby?" you cut him off, carving a small piece of the fish and placing it in your mouth. Your eyes shut momentarily from the rich taste before opening wide again, only to find confusion etched onto your husband companion's face. You continue, ""Cause you really do look so— very, very much similar to how you were in the Heian Era. A damn delicious snack. Or, a scrumptious five course meal— depending on how much you want to indulge silly me, I guess."

Silence greets your comment— the first time in the two hours it took you to convince Sukuna, then drive him to this Thai restaurant– good heavens above, his grumbling's still The Same even after he has been reawakened a millenium later– only to be broken by a too hushed ask within the next moment.

"And what do you think of my two eyes? Are they still as lovely as my four eyes were to you?"

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to lean over the table and claim his lips in the neediest kiss ever seen in history— your brain quickly shoves such wishes away, making you return him a fond smile instead. And murmur, "Of course, they are...— Your two big eyes and the two not-really-eyes beneath them... As lovely as red rubies."

Sukuna's look shifts into one of joy, if only for a moment, before being back to scowling once more, the same way you return to your cheeky grin as you inquire, "And what do you think, hm, of the food here? It's just the best– ain't it? Yuuji, Nobara and I discovered this hidden gem on our last mission— and when I tasted the green curry they made– I realized I absolutely had to bring you here, by hook or by crook."

"And which one was it? By hook or by crook?" the curse questions, an extremely rare smirk peeking from the corners of his frown; you don't really grasp how much you missed this sight until now– especially, in the present days, when the only emotion your past lover [and forever beloved] shows you is frustration paired with weary distaste—

You shovel some rice into your mouth to stop the far too familiar train of thoughts– you know where it'll be ending; you know it won't be. An agonizingly slow minute passes, wherein you chew the food so slowly then swallow it down, then stare at your empty bowl of rice for a nice ten seconds before mustering a chuckle.

"Of course, by crook," you reply, ignoring the way Sukuna's gaze roves over your face, then your body dressed in your oldest pair of pajamas; staring not in lust, but with something eerily similar to worry, "No one would've ever allowed me to take you out in their right minds. It's way too risky is what it is. They might even execute me if they find us out."

A beat passes in quiet with you feeling the weight of your words and the implications your actions will bear, slowly sinking into the two of you— before the hush is broken yet again. By your companion again.

Though not with a muted question, but with noisy cackles– the most melodious music you've heard in a duration far too long to your liking.

Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth with those sharp canines on display. Barking a guffaw, he asks, "You're one weak fool, letting love ruin you – aren't you, pet?"

You outstretch a hand over to the other side, dainty fingers brushing away the few grains of rice stuck to his face, then smile– mind going back to the innumerable bloodbaths, the figure before you drenched the country in— them growing in intensity after the winter, you know was your last as the Queen of Curses– given, the dates written in the scrolls on his conquests are accurate... Somehow, you know they are—

Your smile widens, digging pleasantly painful indents in your cheeks, as you retract your hand, shrugging at the stock-still image of shock across.

"What can I say, baby? Learnt to do so, from my king himself."

▸ masterlist

[thereaperisabitch]

My Joel Miller fics recs from 2023

I’ve planned to do this since before Christmas, but life caught me up, so that's why I'm here rushing to finishing this before the reveillon party. 2023 was a very tough year for me, in different ways, and this stories were my refuge and my balm during good times and bad times, so this was the way I found to honor all these incredible authors who made my life better this year.

To the authors: you guys are the most amazing and sweet people ever, I know that I'm not active as other readers and I don't reblog your works enough - and I'm sorry for that, I wish I could shower you with the praises you guys deserve.

Hope this will make up for all the comments and reblogs that I haven't give.

And to the readers who find this recs: most of these stories are series and most of them has age gap and are Joel Miller x fem/afab!reader. I won't put warnings from each fic because it would be a too long post, so click the link and read the author's warnings in each before you start to read - I'm afraid to get into fandoms because of people who give shit to authors, so please, don't be this kind of person.

Someday I'll make a part 2 of other stories that caught me up this year.

That all being said, thank you @morning-star-joy @hier--soir @frannyzooey @joelsgreys @fuckyeahdindjarin @the-ginger-hedge-witch @eupheme @bageldaddy @covetyou @theidiotwhowritesthings @atinylittlepain @imtryingmybeskar @ezrasbirdie

A stranger's heart without a home (complete)

Summary: A one night stand that later becomes a secret affair – or masterpiece of literature – all the poets and great writers ran so Doni could walk.

This is my favorite fic of all times, forever! I read and re-read it so much that I can’t even count how many times I’ve had read it, it’s my 100% comfort fic. Enemies to lovers is my favorite trope, and the way @morning-star-joy developed here it’s perfection in the most pure way.

It’s Joel on his Jackson era and it’s a perfect character development from both sides, how to people who prefer to deal things on their own learn to rely on someone else.

I also highly recommend But you know the killer doesn't understand, which it’s on-going Joel x fem! Reader also post-Outbreak in Jackson, but it’s different and addicting as ASHWAH.

A Lover’s Pinch (on-going)

Summary: a one night stand (do I have a pattern?) at the bar turns to be so much more when you discover that your fling it’s your professor at university.

The professor x student trope might be cliché for some, and by the very brief summary that I wrote above may sound like Pretty Little Liars, but @hier--soir works with those elements and creates something beyond amazing, it is like contemplate a work of art at a museum, but much better.

I’m very much obsessed with this story, that’s why I reread it with more and more frequency.

Can’t even mention the references in this story – it’s truly enriching, it makes all better, truly.

Plus: the playlist it’s amazing!!!!

Short Days, Long Nights (on-going)

Summary: Remnants of a band travelers, you and Joel find a cabin in the woods - what would be the problem with staying?

I’m crazy about this one, it’s my true love and it had 3 or 4 chapters when I started and now we’re heading to chapter 17, blessed be @frannyzooey for sustaining us with this preciosity for so long.

I'm a sucker for when there's one character (Joel) reluctant for his feelings, and if the story was only about this, I would be perfectly glad too with, too. BUT Kelli it's a genius, an amazing writer, giving me all that I didn't even knew I wanted.

It's fluff, with smut from the highest quality - with some tense moments, wich turns everything more addicting.

A Safe Haven (on-going)

Summary: Joel's quickly drawn to the vet of Jackson - even knowing she's married. Will this affair thrive? Or there's more underneath of the vet's story? (Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry for this lame summary, but I refuse to copy from your masterlist and I’m also rushing to finishing this rec today).

I was bought on the infidelity trope and the drama that comes with it. It would still be a nice story, but @joelsgreys it’s so much fucking talented that she wrote the most beautiful thing ever!

It has tooth roting fluff, drenching panties smut and heartstopping angst! All perfectly written and balanced.

I also love how Ellie it's also a crucial character for the couple's history and I really adore how she's attached to Peach.

Special mention to Fall Into Temptation and Strawberry, that lived rent free in my mind since I've read those.

Seams (on-going)

Summary: Joel pays visit to Jackson's seamstress after a trouble with his too-tight jeans – and it's only heaven from that on, won't say more.

Now I call @fuckyeahdindjarin ✨Queen of the Build Up✨ and that's because the way Cee builds up the sexual tension between characters it's undescribable.

Cee is such an excellent writer, not only in Seams but on other stories too she's gives a rich description of details that makes the reading flow better, it's like knowing you looking at gem stone.

Breakout (complete)

Summary: Boxer!Joel AU when he has to train a fuckboy who happens to date a sweet little thing.

Well I'm a fan from @the-ginger-hedge-witch for a while, she wrote one of the best Javier Peña fics ever (which turned into a book and that's fucking A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!) and other amazing stories, but this one got me hooked so bad.

Clearly I have a pattern because I LOVE when there is an obstacle for the characters to stay together, in this case, a relationship (I already spoiled that her boyfriend sucks, but I don't think it's spoils the story development) and Ren just atests she's a wonderful writer - now book writer, blessed be her 🙏🏻

And the idea of Joel using his fists it's already apealing, am I right?

I also recommend Friendly Fire, that I love just for knowing that in this, Ren envisioned an Aries character for reader - but also the premise of the story is great, too.

In The Woods Somewhere (complete)

Summary: living alone in a cabin at the apocalypse gets less dull when a teenager appears with a handsome injured man.

I've read this since a while, but it marked me. @eupheme created such tenderness between the characters - they know he and Ellie can't stay, which makes the affair even more apealling.

I’ll know It when I see it (on-going)

Summary: Joel as a porn star in its golden era who meets Lucky, a rising star in porn - chemestry goes beyond the cameras.

@bageldaddy deserves all the shout out forever because this here it's golden. They're both are porn stars and I could be hot just for this, but of course there's feelings involved - and the way they struggle to fight against these it's what makes this story even more perfect. Shout out to the one shot Sundown, as well, it’s completely wonderful.

Something wretched about this (complete)

Summary: Joel Miller it's a self appointed pharmacist in the QZ, and fucks you when you don't have how to pay for your father's medicine

Whoring yourself for meds sounds bad? In this story it's hot af! It's filthy, each chapter explores different sexual practices and it's THE. BEST. THING. IN. THE. WORLD!!!

@covetyou it's the most blessed being for writing a perfection like this, seriously. I loved every single chapter of this, loved Joel being an asshole and a slut. I can't tell enough how much joy this story has brought me. And lo it's better than Santa, because she provides christmas gifts for the nice and naughty, with Freeze-thaw (smut with fluff) and Baubles (smut with FILTH) - I can't die before I try the balldo, I didn't even knew this, didn't think that this could be possible - but happily it is, and this one shot it's perfect in every aspect.

Take Care of You (on-going)

Summary: Joel it's a sugar daddy in this AU and appears in your life to make all better 👀 He doesn't charges for the sexual part of the arrangement, but he's irresistible - so what will you do?

The ideia of a sugar daddy it's extremely appealing to me because that's all I wanted, you know? Some rich hot guy telling me I don't need to work and paying everything to me - that's living! Okay jk, but I started reading this when things caught up badly at work, so it was a sweet refuge.

@theidiotwhowritesthings it's the perfect writer! It's the perfect slow burn that makes you thirst for more and more!

Apothecary (complete)

Summary: Summary: Joel falls in love with the "witch" from Jackson and it has its perks and struggles.

I LOVE Practical Magic, it's one of my favorites witch movies so to read something inspired on that it's great -but @atinylittlepain it's such a wonderful, talented, amazing writer - so we were all blessed with this masterpiece.

It has fluff, angst, smut - stupid people being scared about what they don't understand and etc. It's very sweet, Joel also doesn't understands about her, but can't help being drawn. And Ellie it's a natural, their relationship here, how they grow to be a family ... it's utterly sweet. Special mention to Only Lovers Left Alive (another movie that I LOVE),  The Heyloft and the masterpiece Down to The Ankles (it's perfection and it's inspired in Bones and All, other film that I truly love).

Come home (on-going)

Summary: when you've lost everything and everyone, you reach to Jackson - and meets a ruggedly handsome who you can't help being drawn to.

I've read this for a while, as well, but I still think about this story often. It's a slow burn - which I love (in case you haven't noticed from the stories listed above) - and it's so sweet, the blossom of a friendship that turns to more, their relationship with Ellie ... It's been a while since it was uptaded and I hope @imtryingmybeskar it's okay, because this story it's lovely and I really wish to see and ending for them.

Catalyst

I'm gonna just summarize that it's a threesome with Joel and Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, that's it - if that ain't reason enough for you to read, idk man.

I didn't even knew that I wanted it, that I needed it - until I read it. I find threesomes hot af, but I don't tend to enjoy when it's with characters that I love too deeply - don't ask me why - but in THIS ONE, GOD FUCKING DAAAAAMN!

It has filth, of course, but there's also fluff - which I find inevitable when it's about Frankie. In the chapter Here, especially, @ezrasbirdie builds perfectly of the struggles that I imagine for a threeway relationship, reading it was sad, hot and lovely.

Hope all the links work, 'cause I don't have time to check now 🙃

Sorry if my comments felt weird, if I forgot to mention something, as I've said above, I intend to make a part 2 of recs someday soon (hopefully).

I wish everyone a happy new year 🎆🥂🎇

[jxwl4k]

Harmony in Contrast

PLOT: Ushijima Wakatoshi, known for his calm demeanor, finds himself captivated by the energetic and lively Y/N L/N. Despite their differences, they discover a harmonious balance in their relationship, where Ushijima's stability complements Y/N's energy, creating a love filled with understanding and joy.

A/N: I decided to just post it today, since majority of the vote is yes, and I also wanted to publish it today. So yeah enjoy reading!

Also, if you guys want more ushijima fanfic, just tell me and don’t be shy to tell me if you have any scenarios!

Ushijima Wakatoshi was known as the calm and collected boyfriend among his friends and teammates. He had a serious demeanor and a focused attitude towards his volleyball career. His girlfriend, Y/N L/N, on the other hand, was the complete opposite – energetic, lively, and always bursting with enthusiasm.

One sunny afternoon, Ushijima and Y/N decided to spend the day at the beach. As they arrived, Y/N immediately ran towards the water, eager to splash around and build sandcastles. Ushijima followed behind, his pace steady and composed.

"Come on, Wakatoshi! Let's play beach volleyball!" Y/N exclaimed, grabbing a ball and bouncing on her toes.

Ushijima nodded calmly, accepting the challenge. Despite his reserved nature, he couldn't help but smile as Y/N's vibrant energy rubbed off on him. They started playing, with Y/N diving for every ball and cheering loudly with each point they scored. Ushijima's precise spikes and steady serves complemented Y/N's agile moves perfectly.

After a fun game, they settled down on the sand. Y/N chatted animatedly about her day while Ushijima listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with thoughtful comments. As the sun began to set, they walked along the shoreline, hand in hand.

"Wakatoshi, look at this one! It's so pretty," Y/N exclaimed, holding up a particularly intricate shell.

Ushijima nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he replied, "It's impressive how nature creates such intricate patterns."

"Yeah! Nature is amazing, isn't it?" Y/N grinned, slipping the shell into her pocket before skipping ahead again.

Later, at dinner, they sat across from each other in a cozy seaside restaurant. Y/N eagerly scanned the menu, her eyes lighting up at the descriptions of various dishes.

"I think I'll try the seafood pasta," Y/N decided, closing the menu with a satisfied nod.

Ushijima placed his menu down and calmly said, "I'll have the grilled fish."

Y/N leaned forward, her excitement palpable. "Oh, that sounds delicious! I can't wait to try everything here."

Ushijima smiled softly. "You always find joy in the simplest things."

Y/N grinned back. "And you always know how to appreciate the finer details."

Throughout the evening, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Y/N shared stories from her day, recounting funny anecdotes and amusing observations. Ushijima listened intently, occasionally adding a quiet comment or asking a thoughtful question.

As they walked home under the moonlit sky, Y/N linked arms with Ushijima, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment. She glanced up at him, her voice soft with affection. "Thank you for today, Wakatoshi. I had so much fun."

Ushijima nodded, his expression gentle. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Y/N."

"And thank you for being so patient with me," Y/N added with a playful grin. "I know I can be a handful sometimes."

Ushijima chuckled softly. "It's part of what makes you who you are."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. As they approached their apartment building, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the balance they brought to each other's lives – her boundless energy and his calm presence creating a harmonious rhythm that felt just right.

[dragonform]

Lurking on some Ninjago communities is driving me batty, so let me just get this out here.

"oLd NinJaGO wAs BetTeR"

"JuSt LeT nINjaGo dIE"

Look, buddy. Lemme tell you a story. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.)

Last year, my kid Ry was six years old. Prime Ninjago age. He had already started watching Lego shows, and in fact already loved the dragon sets from Ninjago (we got him the sets for 4+ years the moment he was old enough to follow the instructions), but was a bit hesitant to start the show because some of it looked scary.

We started with Dragons Rising, because it was new at the time and Netflix was pushing it. As we watched, we got the sense that there was a lot of history behind it. My husband and I already knew Ninjago had been around for a while, having seen the sets in shops. So I looked up the history of the show to see how much we needed to catch up on.

"15 seasons!?" I yelped to my husband.

"Has it been around that long???" he responded.

We were happy, of course, that Ry had found a nice long Lego show to watch (we generally love Lego shows in this house, they all seem to be of much higher quality than other kids' tv shows out there. But I digress.)

We started from Season 1. Somewhere around Skybound (yes, ok, I know), it dawned on me that not only was Ry enjoying the show, I was enjoying the show. The scenes looked ridiculously cinematic, larger in scale than what Lego Minifigures should reasonably deliver. The action and fight scenes were ridiculously complex and fluid for little square plastic people. The faces far more expressive than what's basically an emoji printed on yellow plastic should allow for. And the characters and writing? Light years more compelling than any Hollywood superhero movie in recent memory.

"This show is ridiculous," I said to my husband, amazed.

One year later, we've collected almost all the sets we could find, and Ninjago is officially our favorite show in the entire household. Not Dragons Rising. Ninjago. All of it, from beginning to end, including the pilots and Day of the Departed (in both English and Chinese), all of it. Ask Ry if he prefers "old Ninjago" or Dragons Rising, and he'll tell you old Ninjago without hesitation. But he will cheerfully rewatch DR anytime. (We're rewatching DR S1 for the fourth time as I write this.)

What I'm trying to say is, you (imaginary OG Ninjago fan) may not like Dragons Rising, but it's how kids nowadays are discovering old Ninjago. To say it should end just because you don't like the changes? Is basically saying you're so selfish you don't want to share your childhood with the kids of today. Old Ninjago isn't going anywhere. You can rewatch it anytime. I hate New Ducktales because I grew up with Old Ducktales (jeez, now everyone knows how old I am) but I don't wish they never made New Ducktales. There's a whole new generation waiting to discover the same joy and wonder you felt watching your favorite shows. Let them watch it.

And before you say my kid and I are the exception, have you been to Legoland lately? The Ninjago rooms and ride haven't been updated since the Tournament of Elements. That's 2015 - almost a decade ago. And you know what? At our Legoland, the Ninjago rooms still go for a premium because the demand is so high. The Ninjago ride still boasts one of the longest queues in the whole of Legoland. The kids' t-shirts sell like hotcakes.

Just yesterday, at the mall, I watched a random girl, about 8 years old, sit down and pull out a copy of The Book of Elemental Powers (released in 2021) and read it. Ry has a copy of the same book.

Kids nowadays love old Ninjago AND new Ninjago. I don't know who needs to hear this, but it's right here for whoever does.

Ninjago is amazing and I wish it many long years ahead for the generations to come.

[bestworstcase]

Hello! I’ve enjoyed reading your rwby analysis posts, especially the things you’ve had to say about Penny. The amount of care you put into thinking and writing about her is great. I’m curious what you thought about Penny getting turned into a human, because… I personally really didn’t like it. It just really hurt me that after she was attacked repeatedly because she was built differently, that the solution to that was to remove everything which was different/unique about her and make her “normal.” And then have the actual physical representation of her differences violently die and then be obliterated like they were some horrible, hideous thing.

A good chunk of her story seemed to revolve around being just as much a person as anyone else even though she had a body that worked differently. And I sure did relate to that irl! But then turning Penny human seemed to send the message that Penny could only actually be a full and happy person (such as immediately discovering how wonderful hugs feel) if she was normal. I want to believe I’m taking that scene the wrong way, but… I’m not sure how else I can interpret what happened. So yeah, I’m curious what you think! I’ll be interested to read your thoughts, whatever they may be.

ooh, well, i’m not keen on the way the fandom writ large interprets the scene (as ‘penny became human’/‘penny became real’) and i like how it was done because imo it is really NOT framed as a positive transformation?

there’s an element of relief and joy to it of course—because everyone’s glad that penny survived this ordeal with the virus—but, as you say, the self-destruction of her robotic body is a big focal point of the scene and it is done in a very horrifying way, with the camera moving between penny’s POV as she watches it happen and her robotic body’s POV as it desperately tries to reach her before succumbing to the virus. and penny herself is profoundly disturbed by the experience—she’s not happy to be ‘free’ of that body at all, and ruby hesitantly asks if she’s alright because penny clearly isn’t. 

so while penny does then find a small thing to appreciate about her new flesh body and that momentarily alleviates the horror… the tone is very much set by the amount of focus given to penny watching a part of herself die and, after that small burst of joyous relief, watching her old body crumble into ash and flinching away with horror again. 

to me, this reads as a rebuke of how flippant yang was about the loss—“the mechanical parts are just extra,” except penny’s body isn’t truly equivalent to a prosthetic, right? that’s just her body. 

it’s not all she is, but it’s also a lot more like the arm yang lost than it is like the prosthetic yang got afterwards. penny loses a core part of her identity…

…which is reinforced later, inside the portal, when penny is taken off guard by the abrupt realization that she no longer has floating array. weapons are a fundamental part of huntsmen identity, seen and understood as “extensions of our selves,” and penny’s is literally destroyed by her involuntary transformation—involuntary in the sense that it’s a choice she was forced to make under extreme duress thanks to watts—and she has to recreate that piece of herself with magic.  

and there’s smaller, subtler things wrong, too. i think the amount of focus put on her bare feet is meant to highlight that she does not have thrusters any more—an essential aspect of her natural mobility is just gone, again leaving her dependent on the maiden powers to do something she used to be able to just DO. 

or consider how disoriented she seems right before cinder gets her. in her original body, penny had sophisticated tactical software built into her sensory array which among other things made her virtually immune to emerald’s semblance. she could see infrared light and aura and the tactical analysis program worked much, much faster than any human could keep up with—because her physical brain was a computer! and then she loses that and spends the entire fight mainly getting clobbered and then struggles to keep track of what’s even happening when cinder gates her off from her allies!

her new body is healthy and whole by human standards, but measured against what penny had before… the narrative gives, like, a LOT of attention to signaling that penny has been measurably disabled in a multitude of ways. if she wasn’t also the winter maiden—& bear in mind that penny only became the winter maiden BECAUSE of what her original robotic body could do!—penny would have been rendered utterly helpless by this transformation. no weapon, no flying, in a much more fragile and vulnerable body that could feel pain. (think about how much screaming she does during that final fight, compared to the time she gets flung several blocks by a grimm so hard there’s an impact crater and she’s like “ouch! :)” about it)

and obv, that fragile new body is the only reason cinder was able to kill her at all. i think that’s sort of the point: penny did the equivalent of *barely* surviving a debilitating illness, went from her sickbed to a battlefield, tried to fight like that, and died because she in a state of extreme physical vulnerability due to recent illness. that’s why all of her friends were so insistent that she not participate in the fight—she wasn’t ready to be fighting! if she’d lived, she would have needed to spend quite a long time recovering, learning and accepting her new limitations, and training within those new limits.

so, to me? the narrative framing of the transformation feels somber, with “she lived! it worked!” being the silver lining on what is otherwise a tragic outcome. watts infected her with this brutal, horrific virus and the only way to save her life was to sacrifice a fundamental part of her self, in this acutely traumatizing way. i think the fandom collectively sort of tunnel visioned on the pinocchio narrative of ‘becoming a real girl’* to such a degree that the bittersweet framing and the underlying horror of what happened to her gets widely overlooked. and i don’t think those tragic/horrific notes are there by accident—the narrative puts quite a lot of emphasis on them, and deliberately bookends the joy of “do hugs always make you feel this warm?” with those moments of intense horror with the violent death and then destruction of her robotic body. 

(*something that… really isn’t a prominent theme with penny?, because her struggle with personhood is centered on how *other people* treat her like an object and i would argue her pinocchio ‘becoming a real boy’ moment is actually her acceptance of the maiden power—not because that ‘proves’ she’s a person or whatever, but because it’s a moment of emotional self-actualization where she chooses to do the right thing according to her own judgment instead of mindlessly following orders like the puppet ironwood expects her to be. it’s symbolic! & that gets called back to explicitly by winter, later, with “you were *always* the real maiden, i was the machine,” the ‘realness’ in the pinocchio narrative here is about emotional authenticity and refusal to sacrifice conscience or heart in the name of following orders.

rwby is… pretty profoundly uninterested in the question of ‘does the robot girl count as a person?’ because it answers that within literal seconds after revealing that she is a robot with an emphatic ‘yes, obviously, she has a soul, zero ambiguity here’ lmao. what it does do is leverage pinocchio to explore themes of dehumanization and personhood within an authoritarian military regime.)

so yeah, that’s how i read that. it’s joyous because she lives but it’s also not a victory earned without grievous loss, and the tragedy is exacerbated because she *does not have time* to catch her breath / process / learn how to live in her new, disabled body before cinder… cinders.

[shioritsumi]

came up with a...not-quite AU, maybe more of a spinoff for SVSSS...

Bingge, after being rejected by SQQ, decides to head off and find his own Shizun! He appears in a modern city and finds a man stumbling about who bears a striking resemblence to his shizun!

Surprise, he's discovered a drunk Shen Tianyu! Older brother of one Shen Yuan, whose life basically went downhill after the abrupt and unexpected death of his younger brother a few years earlier.

Although the Shen family excelled at business and encouraged all ambitions towards it, including excessive hours, they were generally pretty tight-knit....Shen Tianyu, however, had become a bit distant from his siblings and his baby brother's death brought the reality of how much he'd become disconnected from his family crashing down on him. He lashed out at work, got divorced from his wife, lost his reputation, was suspended from his high-paying job for an undetermined time, and now goes out drinking probably way too frequently.

AND THIS is the Shen Tianyu that Bingge has discovered wandering around late at night. Whatever shizun he thought he was going to find, a drunken depressed alcoholic divorcee isn't it. Shen Tianyu delved into his brother's accounts and read PIDW (actually he's kinda fond of the story in his own way) and assumes he HAS to be hallucinating when Luo Binghe suddenly appears in front of him one night while he's stumbling home drunk after being cut off by a concerned bartender. He's tickled that Binghe is seemingly real and solid and when he hugs Binghe the man doesn't push him away or anything. If anything, Luo Binghe looks sad about the whole thing. He looks at Shen Tianyu the way a lot of people do lately....like he used to be this great thing and he's just a huge disappointment now. (in fairness, Tianyu is pretty sure this is all true, he just doesn't like people looking at him like it is) Bingge holds Tianyu gently and immediately decides he can't leave him alone like this. "Why not? I'm usually alone like this."

Shen Tianyu awakens in the morning to find himself neatly tucked into bed with his hair neatly brushed and pyjamas properly on his body instead of half-naked and hungover on the living room floor with his hair in a tangled mess like usual. And there's the smell of food cooking???? Luo Binghe is in his kitchen, cooking him breakfast. LUO BINGHE IS IN HIS KITCHEN COOKING HIM BREAKFAST. "Am I still hung over?"

"I'm sure you wish you were, but no." Bingge explains briefly that he came here to try to find his own shizun, and he found Tianyu. Shen Tianyu can only jokingly respond that if he wanted a sad pathetic long-haired man in green to take care of, he definitely found it but otherwise- "you're not pathetic, Shen Tianyu." Tianyu slams x to doubt. "Okay, fine-you're very pathetic. Perhaps one of the most pathetic men i have ever witnessed." ("i read your story, you encounter quite a lot of pathetic men-i'll take this as a compliment." "plz don't, it's not")

Bingge came to this modern world looking for a kind shizun who cared for him the way SQQ did for the other him. Shen Tianyu isn't that shizun. He is kind, in his own way, but not quite in the way he'd hoped. And he knows Luo Binghe's full story but still treats him like a person. Not even a scary person, or a deadly person....just....a person. And under the trauma and depression, he finds an intelligent ambitious man with close family ties and a dark sense of humor. He just...needs to be watched closely and made to take his meds and forced to limit his drinking more.

Other trivia:

-From oldest to youngest, the Shen kids are Shen Hanjun, Shen Tianyu, Shen Yuan, and Shen Miaoyu (the only daughter, their parents' pride and joy)

-Business majors, all of them. Well, except Shen Yuan-he put off applying to college, swearing he'd get to it sooner or later, and then he abruptly died at 24 without ever getting around to it.

-Shen Tianyu was married to a rather particular woman by the name of Bai Lianhua, something he now believes is a huge joke considering what a shrew she turned out to be at the end. (when he had a breakdown over his brother's death, his wife was upset he paid less attention to her, his "real family")

-Shen Tianyu actually has a young son by the name of Shen Jiuyuan, currently age 7. When he was born Tianyu told his wife having 'yu' in the name was a family tradition, and it IS...but that's not why he added 'yuan' onto the initially proposed name of Jiu. He lost a bet to Shen Yuan, and had to name his first son after his brother. (he won't tell even Bingge what bet exactly he lost to his brother, just that it was embarrassing).

-Shen Tianyu has a childhood friend/enemy by the name of Shang Qingshui. When they were young they were close, but they've always teased each other the whole time. (Hanju, for one, hasn't always been convinced they're really friends, since Qingshui seems to be strangely antagonistic to everyone he knows, and Tianyu just seems to be the first/only to put up with it with any great measure of humor)

Fun fact: Shang Qingshui turns out to be the OG Shang Qinghua, having been forced out of his own body when Airplane was transmigrated into the role. He thought it was curious that the only person who could put up with him had the same family name as the Peak Lord from his original home plane, but he never gave it much thought. Then Tianyu finally returned to work with his new boyfriend in tow and it's GODDAMN LUO BINGHE. HOW. He thought he was done with that man when he got transmigrated out of the world where he existed but now he's HERE. He's supposed to be a fictional character here?!

I haven't decided yet if Shang Qingshui is genuinely related to Airplane, but it'd be funny if they were cousins or something and he was just that one insufferable cousin to Airplane that his parents tried to force him to hang out with sometimes bc Qingshui seems to actually have his shit together. (or in other words he has a business degree and an office job with a good paycheck) "but mom he's an ASSHOLE" "he's an asshole with a regular job and good education, why don't you take after him more"

-Bingge starts out just trying to take care of Shen Tianyu bc good GOD the man is a mess. At one point he was probably a well-groomed neat businessman...when Bingge arrives his hair is past his shoulders and he rarely wears anything more complicated than sweats on a regular basis unless his bar of choice has a dress code. It's months before he recalls his original plan to try to find his own shizun and seduce him.

Then Tianyu flirts first. Bingge doesn't know how to respond.

-Bingge manages in the modern world more easily than even he predicted. Most things are labelled, and the internet? So useful. Once Tianyu gets him a phone, he can look up anything he doesn't already know. Personally Tianyu isn't surprised-he read PIDW, Luo Binghe can do anything he needs to, right? Figuring out basic internet and appliance usage is simple even for regular people, let alone the protagonist of a stallion novel.

-Bingge does end up reading PIDW, at his own insistence. If it's the story he's the main character of in this world, he should know what went into it. Tianyu is so reluctant to show it to him, he's actually a little disappointed. He can't call it a work of art, and he finds the writing awkward to read as the subject of the whole damn thing, but he really thought it was going to be much worse. But Tianyu seems to like it...so he supposes he won't insist on getting rid of it.

[phantomspiderr]

New Year

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k+

Summary: Layla invites you to her New Year's Eve party where you get the chance to meet her ex-husband

Warnings/Tags: mentions of drinking and partying, kind of want drunk Layla around now, Marc maybe being just a little creepy, he really doesn't know how to act around people sometimes, fireworks are mentioned too, again no real mentions of readers appearance or gender(I tried to use they/them so it's a little more neutral), Steven gets a lil mention, a little swearing too. As always if I've missed anything please let me know!

a/n: Thank you, thank you all so so so much for making this year better. If you're a casual follower of my very infrequent posting or this is the first time you've come across my work, I thank you. Being able to express myself in this way has been freeing, and stressful but I'm glad I could bring any amount of joy to even one person. Thank you for every like and every reblog and every comment. I wish you all the best for this new year, may it come with happiness and joy and hopefully more really good fanfiction to read. Sending you all a little bit of love🤍

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

Music blares throughout the flat as you weave around the people littered through the hallway. Parties definitely aren’t your favourite place to be but for your friend, you’d do anything she asked, plus it’s New Year's Eve so you thought why not. You may not have recognised a single person since you’d arrived but this is fun, this is what you’re supposed to do at your age right? Before you have any more time to fret a squeal sounds from behind you, your name quickly following, “you came!” When you turn Layla is quickly coming towards you with her arms wide open, a few people looking in your direction now because of the noise. You only manage to squeak out a hi before you’re encompassed by Layla, her arms tight around your shoulders, the force of her body against yours knocking the wind out of you. She pulls back only a little to cup your face in her hands, “I’m really glad you’re here.” You can tell by the tint of red on her cheeks she’s already a few drinks down which apparently makes her a bit more affectionate.

“Layla!” A small group of people enters the room immediately drawing the attention of the beautiful host to them, her hands dropping down to yours and she squeals again. Quickly turning back to you for just a moment, “I’ll come find you later! Have fun! Enjoy!” And just like that, she’s off running to greet more of her friends.

You wander around the decently sized flat for a while after that, finding a drink in the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen along the way, briefly chatting to a few people around, and then of course you find yourself a quiet corner. Looking amongst shelves filled with treasures and memories of Layla’s many adventures, she’d told you stories over casual lunches, even invited you on her next one. Still, even after being friends for very nearly a year, there’s still so much mystery that follows her everywhere she goes. You eventually come across a picture of someone you recognise, Layla’s father, the one person she was more than fond of talking about. She’d told you many, many tales about her father, about all the places he’d been, the things he’d discovered, and about how she wanted to be just like him. You admire the picture in its intricate gold frame, a small pendant hangs on a chain over the top of the frame, something you’re sure is a treasured possession. Your hand moves upward, fingers extending to the pendant just to get a better look at it-

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” your hand retreats to your chest so quickly you almost knock the drink out of your other hand. The person who spoke much too close for your liking, and then the chuckle that follows your gasp is short-lived as you turn to the source of the warning. You’re met with an incredibly good-looking man, his hair loosely slicked back and an amused smirk gracing his really handsome features. If he hadn’t just creepily snuck up on you you’d maybe be interested in talking to him and your expression clearly shows that when you turn back around in hopes he’ll just disappear. He doesn’t. “Sorry, it’s just that she’d be devastated if that went missing.”

“I wasn’t going to steal it.” You snap a little too harshly but then again you think he’s insinuating you’d steal from your friend. You’re increasingly becoming more frustrated the longer he stands over your shoulder, his presence is too much for you.

“I didn’t say you were. I’ve met a lot of thieves, you’re definitely not built for that.” You’re annoyed now, scowling at this complete stranger when you turn back around.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Just as the man opens his mouth to reply Layla appears again, her arm hooking around your waist to pull you closer and your face instantly changes, smiling at your ever-so-happy friend. Your own arm wrapping around her, glad for the interruption, she scrunches her nose as you exchange cute little hi’s.

“Are you having fun?” The people pleaser in you manages to get out an 'mhmm' and force a fake smile, not that Layla would notice right now. You’ve only seen her in this state maybe a handful of times, she’s less observant and much more carefree. Your eyes flicker back to the stranger still lurking across from you, Layla only now registering his presence, “ahh Marc! You met Marc!”

Marc? That’s Marc?!

Layla had told you all about Marc and even tried to set you up with her ex-husband. What kind of friend tries to set you up with their ex-husband? That is exactly what you’d said to her before changing the subject, every time she tried to bring it up. You’d somehow managed to miss every opportunity to meet most of Layla’s other friends, lots of them living in different countries and only coming to visit for short periods of time but you knew Marc had lived here and you’d personally avoided trying to meet him, not wanting to make things awkward. You knew Layla’s type for partners, they were all extremely good-looking and in your opinion way out of your league and you just didn't feel like having another unrequited crush.

“This is the husband?!” You finally manage to get out with confusion etching your features as you look between the pair.

“Ex! Ex-husband!” Marc is a little too quick to correct. You’re sure you hear a ‘smooth’ and when you look at Layla she’s grinning. Marc only gives her a grumpy look before quickly excusing himself from the conversation.

“Soooooooo,” Layla draws out as she turns to face you, her hands slipping into your free one, “what did you think?”

“Of Marc?” Your face scrunches, to which Layla just scoffs, “you didn’t tell me he was a creep.” She scoffs again, this time giggling a little.

Layla leans in as if to whisper, she even has the audacity to lift her hand to the side of her mouth but the alcohol in her system inhibits her from being able to lower her volume, “he’s just nervous to be around you. He gets weird like that around people he likes!”

“Excuse me?!” You go wide-eyed, did you hear her right? But of course, before she gets a chance to reply someone calls her name, and her head whips around, your conversation was completely forgotten to her now.

“Oh, come on they're playing beer pong!” Layla tugs at your hand, a disappointed pout appearing when you shake your head and begin to decline, “please, please, please.” She begs in the way she knows you can’t say no to and so you let her drag you toward the kitchen, still thinking about the short conversation you'd just had.

-

It’s almost midnight when you stumble out of the kitchen, many games of beer pong down and an even drunker Layla staying behind to do shots. Drunk Layla has exactly no inhibitions and is definitely more affectionate than normal Layla. Now you’re in need of some fresh air, all of the laughter and closeness in the kitchen is proving a bit much for you. Luckily you can see no one has made it out to the little makeshift balcony so you awkwardly climb through the window. Once outside you feel like you’re able to breathe again, you truly hadn’t realised how stuffy it had been inside. You manage to take in a deep breath before the cold hits you hard, and your body immediately reacts. Your arms wrap around your body, hands rubbing along the tops of your arms to create some warmth.

“It's cold out.” You jump again at unexpectedly hearing Marc’s voice, turning on your heels thinking he’s behind you only for no one to be there. “Up here,” you look up to the side when he talks again, there he is perched on top of an old chimney, giving you a shy wave.

“You know you have the whole creepy stalker thing down,” you speak half-heartedly but still he chuckles.

“Hey, you came to me this time.” He raises his eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders.

“You are the one sitting alone like some bird on the rooftop,” your arms fold over your chest now and Marc mumbles something you don’t quite hear before he effortlessly slides off of the chimney and casually walks down the slight incline of the roof like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I’m not really one for parties,” you watch as he shrugs off his thin jacket, leaving him in just a t-shirt and you wonder how he isn’t freezing out here and why he's even taking his jacket off, to begin with. “Y’know it’s December, you really shouldn’t go out without a jacket,” he holds the material out to you which your confusion-clouded brain takes. Then he turns away to lean his elbows down on the balcony railing, looking out onto the lively streets of London. You feel yourself soften a little, maybe you were a bit quick to judge him and brand him a creep.

“Me too,” you pull the jacket on and join him next to the railing, watching people in nearby streets celebrating.

“So, how come you’re here?” Marc twists his head to the side so he can just look at you.

“Layla,” Marc hums in agreement, “said she’d disown me if I didn’t.” That makes Marc laugh which turns out to be a pleasant sound when you don’t think he’s trying to be some kind of perv.

“Sounds like something she’d do.”

“She didn’t actually say that, it was more like,” you think for a second, preparing yourself for your best Layla impression “‘please you always miss my parties, I want everyone to meet you!’” Your hands had somehow gripped onto his bicep in the process, exactly how you remembered the conversation with Layla going.

It all makes Marc laugh again, “that sounded nothing like her!”

“Eh, close enough,” you lean your elbows against the railing, mirroring Marc’s stance now. The balcony is so small that you have no choice but to stand a little too close to him. There’s a little pause, Marc’s laughter dying out but the sound of the party still flowing through the window. “So, how come you’re here?” You nudge your shoulder against his arm to draw his attention.

“Uh, something similar.” Suddenly he’s acting a little hostile, his body goes more rigid and his expression hardens a little. Then there’s an awkward silence and you just try to focus on some passersby on the street below. “She was a bit more like ‘please! I want you there and you need to leave the house. Plus I know you want to meet a certain person and I promise to make sure they’re there!’” You lock eyes together for a quiet moment before both bursting into laughter.

“That was terrible!” You choke out between laughs and before Marc has time to reply, loud calls draw your attention away. Everyone inside seems to have crowded around all facing the tv and all shouting along with the countdown appearing on the screen.

“Hey look out right over there, between that gap in the buildings.” Marc points out off to the side, stealing your attention back and you look hard for what he’s trying to point out. You can only see the hue of light coming from buildings and street lamps, nothing else.

“There’s nothing-“

“Just wait,” you look at him confused for a moment but his eyes are transfixed on the horizon and you can just hear him whispering along with the loud countdown coming from inside.

3…2…1…

The sky explodes into colour in front of your very eyes. Fireworks light up the night sky, far enough away that the bangs aren’t too loud but the view is still spectacular. You can hear cheers all around, from inside Layla’s flat to the pubs down the street. Marc’s face glows with the colours in the sky and he’s smiling while he watches the fireworks. He almost looks childlike like this, like he’s never experienced it before and he’s captivating.

“Happy New Year then.” Marc straightens suddenly, catching you completely off guard, almost like he’d just snapped back into his body and he just holds his hand out toward you. Slowly you raise your own hand into his, replying with a simple, “happy new year.” You both shake hands, probably the weirdest way someone has ever wished you a happy new year.

“Oh come on!” You both turn to see Layla on the other side of the window, the look on her face one of exasperation, and her eyes lock with Marc’s, “if you don’t kiss them now then I will!” Immediately you snap your head back around to look out at London, trying desperately to hide the flustered look you’re sure is showing on your face right now. Sober Layla definitely isn’t that forward.

Just for a second Marc’s accent changes as he starts spitting out apologises on your friend's behalf, "I-no-we don’t have to-" he pauses for a second as if he’s centering himself, takes a deep breath, and talks in his normal voice again. “I think I’m just going to go sober her up a bit.”

“Yeah good idea,” you try to suppress the laugh at Layla’s disagreement to be sober and the way she runs off to hide as Marc tries and fails to catch her arm before she can disappear. He lets out a big sigh before climbing back in the window, leaving you to your own devices for just a second before his head pops back out the window.

“Don’t- uh, don’t leave yet okay?” His face contorts a little like he doesn’t know what to do with it before he gives you an awkward smile.

“Okay,” you chuckle out, immediately pausing when he smacks his head off of the half-open window, "oh-oh my- are you-"

“‘m fine, it’s fine.” He holds onto the back of his head, eyes shut real tight for just a second and he just awkwardly turns away and back around, lifting his hand almost like to wave before dropping it again, "okay I’m just-" he turns and walks away. You move to stick your head through the window into the flat just to make sure he’s okay and you only just hear him mutter, “for fucks sake Steven.” Steven?

You retreat back out of the window and only then do you realise you’re still wearing his jacket. Quickly you peer back into the flat to try to catch him, “Marc-“ your eyes scan across the room, “and you’re gone.” You sigh before moving away from the window again, surely him asking you not to leave meant he wanted to see you again, or something like that, right?

You pull your focus away from your thoughts, instead looking back out at the night sky. It’s rare to see any stars in the London sky but littered around are little white dots accompanying a beautiful half-moon. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[thequeenofthewinter]

In the Midst of Winter has turned two.

Actually, it's my "writer-versary" in general. I hadn't written anything before this. (I didn't start posting until a few weeks later, but today's the day I started tapping away at those keys.)

730 days. 253,968 words. And well, now we're working on a sequel.

Two years ago, I opened up a Word document, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Still don't quite know what I am doing if I am honest with myself, but in that time there have been a few things which I have discovered for myself. Idk, I am feeling cute, and I thought maybe I would share some of those thoughts here. There's nothing mind bending or earth shattering here. I'm just a girl with a keyboard who writes fanfiction.

In the time since I started writing, there are a lot of things which I have learned and even more which I will continue to learn in the future. The most important of these things is: you write for yourself and you write to have fun. If you are having fun and if writing makes you happy, that is the only thing which is important. Yes, yes. I know, I know. Comments and kudos are nice. I like them too, but they are not what keeps you going, not truly anyway. It's a love of a story, a love of your craft and what you're doing, and the joy you get from creating. Yes, but Winter, lack of engagement is a writer killer. I hear you, friend. I see you. I am also you. I do not deny that a lack of engagement can definitely feel demotivating. I'd be lying if I didn't say that sometimes I feel a wee bit sad when I see my story just kind of sits there. But it's more than that. The comments, no matter how nice they are, will not keep you going when you have no love of what you're doing and your heart isn't truly in it. (There. I said it.)

We make fanfiction because we love something so much that it moves us to words, and taking the spirit and soul out of it and turning it into a comment machine, won't keep you afloat forever. Nor will it give you quality writing.

Conversely, something else which I learned is that negative comments can go straight into the TRASH where they belong. You cannot please everyone, and there will always be someone who doesn't like your writing. Haters are going to hate, and if they don't like what you're writing, that does not mean anything is wrong with it. All writing is good writing, and there are many different styles. More than that, we improve over time. It's what all the writing blogs say, but it's true. I'd invite you right now to go look at my first posted chapter and then read the last one. There is a difference. If you're new out there, keep writing. Keep creating.

The last thing which I'd like to share is that community makes a huge difference. When I first started writing, it was me, myself, and I, and I know I have said this before, but was scared shitless to post anything at first. I was also (still am at times) a little nervous to interact with others because of what I write. However, I did it anyway, and I am so grateful. I posted my story, and eventually, I did join Tumblr. People found me, and I found people. Don't be afraid to reach out. (Be cautious, as always. This is the Internet, after all.) Find some people whose writing/art you like and reblog it, leave some notes, or comment on it. You'd be surprised about what turns up.

Most people I have interacted with here have been lovely and beautiful human beings and have been nothing but encouraging. They've both keyboard smashed with me in the good times and helped push me along the way when I have been in a rut. They've helped fuel me and supported me and if it weren't for them, who knows where I'd be now.

...And well, if you get a negative response...they weren't really worth talking to to begin with. (If you're looking for someone to talk to, here I am. Hi, I am Winter. It's nice to meet you.)

[alovesongforu]

Three - Tragedy in Blood

Nine hours and a half of flight was a lot. I got on the plane with my heart pounding on my chest. I'm alone. Completely alone. I'm nobody's daughter, I'm nobody's friend, I'm not wanted by anyone.

The flight attendant smiles sweetly at me before pointing in the direction of my seat. First

Class. At least I would have a few hours of luxury before becoming another miserable person starving at USA's streets. Not that I'm unfamiliar with hunger, but I'm not looking forward to get back together with my old friend again.

A little bewildered, I sit, watching people walk by and sit down too. A nine-year-old boy with his parents, a businessman, a couple in their twenties...I like being invisible in public places.

No one ever notices the scrawny little girl with bushy hair staring at you. I like to trying to imagine these people's lives, it makes me realize I'm surrounded by humans, like me. Everyone here feels sadness, joy, euphoria, anger...everyone here bleeds, has dreams, expectations, fears...don't you think that's beautiful?

We're humans. Our life is short and fleeting compared to Earth's life. We live short and feel intensely, inventing stories about something higher to cling into faith. I think this is beautiful, but I'm weird, so don't take my opinions into account. I wonder what are all this people thinking.

You see, I never had many friends, none if I'm being honest, so I got used to diving into fantasy, action or suspense books, where I had knowledge of the characters' thoughts. Real life it's not like that, sadly. People are unreadable, they don't open up at this level, exposing their deeps and disturbing thoughts or telling you the reason behind all their actions.

I have a natural interest in human beings. I want to crawl into their brains , capture every little bit of information about everyone, truly know people the way I know the back of my hand. I know it's weird, but I'm a curious person. I just wanna know more and more about everything.

When I was a little kid, I used to write little stories, creating characters and actually knowing them. After all, I was their creator. For a long time, being a writer was my dream, but it doesnt matter anymore. A long time ago, mommy's dad found the notebook I used to write and set it on fire. My stories burned away with my dream. Why? That's a good question. I think he just didn't want to see me happy, 'cause he destroyed everything that made me smile.

Anyway, I'm distracted from my thoughts when the flight attendants start that speech, showing what to do if there's turbulence and bla bla bla. I buckle up and open my purse, wanting to put my phone on airplane mode. I put my hand inside and feel for my cell phone, but I feel the texture of... paper?

This is strange. Other than my sketchbook and a book, I didn't put anything else that had paper in my purse. I take it out to examine it and find a piece of notebook paper torn out with my mom's handwriting.

Half Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

Speak with the director upon arrival.

Well, at least she looked for a place so as not to leave me wandering the streets.

Look, I'll spare you from describing the next boring hours 'cause there wasn't much to do. I only watched a few movies, read a little and drew, but nothing much. It didn't take me long to get bored, and believe me, when you have ADHD, sitting around for a long time with nothing to entertain you feels like torture.

I start trying to imagine the lives of other flight passengers, but I quickly get even more bored. With a grunt, I throw my head back and close my eyes. I do what I do best: I imagine. I imagine a world in which an artist painted a portrait of his daughter with her own blood. I imagine what the little girl's death was like.

What her last moments were like before life drained from her little body. I imagine how the artist had a lonely and miserable life before he died. How the painting is discovered years later. How it is displayed in a museum centuries later. How the child's spirit began to haunt the place, thirsty for revenge. That's a good story. I think about writing it for a second, but I remember the flames turning paper to dust and then I give up.

°°°

"I HATE YOU!" A child screams angrily before slamming her door.

The intoxicatingly clean smell of hospital. Blinding white lights. Weak coughs. Aged and pale skin. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Nurses here and there. Distance from her. Guilt slowly eats away at my insides with each passing day. White hair and kind green eyes. She didn't blame me for it. But she should.

Grandma doesn't have long to live. I can feel it. I'm at the bedroom door, waiting. I could only visit her when everyone had already talked to her, but this time it was different. I think she also knew that death was caressing her cheek and calling her. Mommy's dad pushes me inside roughly before leaving the room without looking back.

My uncles, aunts, cousins ​​and even my mom leave the room, leaving me alone with her. I know I should keep my distance because of the disease, but I don't care, I even hope that I die with her. I approach Grandma and intertwine her fingers with mine. I held back the tears.

She looked so bad, so so bad. Her body was covered in lumps, her eyes were beginning to become translucent and dull, her nose and lip area were stained red. I've made this.

"Beatrice..."

Her voice sounded hoarse, weak. I swallowed a sob. I didn't notice the tears wetting my cheeks until she reached out her hand with large, purple lumps to wipe them away.

"I-I...I'm sorry." I choked. It hurts. My chest hurts. Was this healthy? Wouldn't I be having a heart attack?

"Why are you apologizing, my princess?"

"I'm sorry. It's my fault, I'm sorry! I didn't meant to." I sobbed.

"It's not your fault, Beatrice. You're just a child." That was a lie. We both knew that.

But she didn't hold a grudge against me. Even when I breathed the disease into her fragile body. Even when I couldn't fix the mess I made. Even with the agonizing pain she suffered day and night, she didn't hate me. I wish I was mature like that, because even without having gone through her pain, I hated myself. I was hoping with my family that I would die in a car accident or in another painful way.

Her hands move away from me to try to take off the necklace with the strawberry pendant she always wore.

"Listen, child. I don't have much time left, much less materials to bequeath, but I want you to have this."

"I don't deserve it."

"You deserve it. Beatrice, know that I don't blame you. I could never. You're blood of my blood and I love you. Every time you miss me, look at the necklace."

It hurts. God, why does it hurt so much? Why? If you exist, God, why not heal her? Why rip away one of the only people who love me?

"Stay with me. Please."

I begged. For the millionth time, I try to fix my mess. Pull the disease out of her body, suck it into me. Nothing. I feel as if hundreds of maggots were eating me from the inside out that time.

I took pity of her failed attempts and took the necklace off her neck. Grandma gives me a faint smile.

"There's so much I want to say to you, but I'm afraid I won't have time."

Grandma lets out a groan of pain and straightens her head, closing her eyes and taking her last breath. I froze. I wanted to make God have mercy on me, to make a miracle happen, but I never knew how to pray.

I remained still, holding her hand and feeling her warmth begin to fade. Do past lives exist? What had I done in one of them to pay for so many sins in this life? I felt angry. Then I realized: God does not exist.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate God, I can't hate something whose existence isn't real, but I know it doesn't exist. And even if it exists, it's not as Christians preach. If he exists, he's not kind. He's sadistic and evil. I have no idea how long I was alone in the room with Grandma, but mommy's dad enters the room after what seems like years, and it doesn't take long to connect the dots.

I remember his hands around my neck, pushing my spine into the hard wall behind me. Panic clouds my senses. I can't breathe. I can't let go. I think I hear my mom shouting something, but his hands tighten.

I just waited for the sound. That sound of bones breaking, when I would fall to the ground, limp like a rag doll. I could see nurses bursting into the room, but my vision went black. I felt my limbs weaken and I imagined Death eager for the moment when my heart stopped beating.

I woke up drenched in sweat with the announcement that the plane was landing. I look around, stunned. That memory always stunned me. Hey mate, I know you must be confused right now, so let me explain: I killed my grandmother. It wasn't intentional, but that's not an excuse or explanation. Her blood stains my hands and drips and leaves a trail wherever I go, and I know it.

My cousin bullied me. I cursed him. Grandma arrived and scowled at me for calling him names. I said I hated her. I hate you. I don't know how I did it, much less why, but those words injected the Ebola virus into her already aging body. Yes, I know, I'm a horrible person. Yes, I deserve to be hanged in a public square. Go through the goat torture. Being impaled. You choose, but yes, I deserve it all.

Happily for both, me and you, dear reader, I'll probably go through hell right now. The plane jolts as it lands and I remember something: my English. As you can see so far, I think very well in English. Maybe I even write reasonably well, but my pronunciation...eeeh, no. I like to describe my accent as that of a choking redneck.

I never participated much in English conversation classes at school. I know my accent is ridiculous and I never wanted to give people more reasons to ridicule me. I regret that now. North-americans are arrogant. No matter how hard you try, they won't try to understand you if you make one small pronunciation mistake.

Anticipatory fear begins to infiltrate my blood as people start to take off their belts. Nobody here knows me, I could just pretend to be mute, right? That's it, I'm going to pretend to be mute! Oh...but I don't where do is this...Half Blood Hill. Danmit!

I left stunned. I held my bag tightly as I fixed my eyes on the airport building. I'm not going to let myself be enchanted by the architecture and aesthetics of this place. I managed to grab my bags and looked around. Men and women rushing past me, people working, on work calls... I don't trust no one here to ask for help. They would certainly realize that I'm alone and only God knows what would go through these people's minds. I tried searching for the address on Google Maps. Nothing. Great, mommy made up a random address.

Fear begins to build up in my chest, caging itself in my ribs and making its home in my bones. What now? I look around as if a prince in shining armor is suddenly going to save me. I go down to the bus station. Maybe I could live from city to city, providing services and eating cheap food. At least I wouldn't starve.

Fear makes it difficult to breathe. I force myself to stop and take a deep breath, trying to clear the fog in my head. Bus ticket, I need a bus ticket. Something coos next to me. I look in the direction. A pigeon tilts its head at me. I feel relief.

Lost, miss? He asks, in my head.

Yes. Can you help me, mr...

Beaumont. Call me Beaumont. Where do you need to go, Your Highness?

I bet you must be in disbelief now, right? Turns out I'm not crazy. Pigeons, rats and bugs really talk to me. I blush at my new friend's politeness. Even though they're always nice to me, I never get used to kindness from people (or animals) who aren't my mom.

I, uh...Mr. Beaumont, can you tell me if there's a place called...Half Blood Hill?

He takes flight and I raise two fingers to serve as a perch. I'm already used to it. Pigeons friends, remember?

You wanna go home, naturally. I'm afraid that no bus takes the route towards your destination, but I can show you the way.

I let out a relieved sigh. I went back to the building to buy Mr. Beaumont a raspberry muffin and then we left. 'But Bea, you shouldn't be feeding the pigeons!'

If you thought or said that, close this book. Never, ever again read my story. You lack the necessary levels of empathy. I was once a friend of hunger, and it is an experience that I wish only for those whose crimes are so sadistic and evil that our brains can barely rationalize them. So yes, I am feeding the pigeons, illegal or not. If you think I being dramatic, think of your best friend. Think of them with their his hip and rib bones popped out. If you imagined this, you can understand me.

Well, back to reality, I walked for so long that I ended up on a road, with nothing but vegetation and cars speeding past me. It must have been around seven o'clock at night, and I was starting to feel scared, but a pigeon can't do anything too bad to me, right? I look at him, perched on my shoulder.

Hey, Mr. Beaumont?...

Yes, Your Highness?

You..you're sure that we're in the right way?

Absolutely, Your Highness. You see that hill to your right? That's your destination.

I look at a dark mass of vegetation a few meters in front of me. I know you're judging me now, but I trust pigeons more than humans. One way or another, Mr. Beaumont was right. As I climbed that hill (which wasn't easy), I found lights a little way down. Lights in a house. I wasn't going to sleep on the street today. I thanked my friend and gave him the cereal bars I had in my purse.

I went down to what looked like a giant house and went inside. Yellow lights bathed me, along with moths flying directly into the lamps. I heard voices ahead, and followed. Maybe I would meet the director here?

Further ahead, two men were playing cards. One of them appeared to be middle aged, had brown hair and eyes, a thick beard and was in a wheelchair. The other had curly hair so black it seemed to glow purple, was built like one of those barroom old mans, and was wearing a Hawaiian tiger-print T-shirt. I didn't felt afraid of him. Didn't seem to be disgusting pedophiles to me.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt narrowed his eyes at me, letting out a deep sigh and and setting his can of Diet Coke down at the table with a tud.

"Another one..." he grumbled.

The weelchair one gives him a sympathetic glance before looking at me. I felt embarassed.

"Oh, um...I'm sorry. I'll wait on that bench while you finish your business."

I wince at how bad my accent sounds, then turn my back to the two men. The Hawaiian shirt man continued to stare at me, but the weelchair man stops me.

"No, no, you don't have to wait." He says, kindly and the other man gruffs in agreement.

"What's your name, child?" He asks, gruffly

I thought about lying my name, but that wouldn't work. I wouldn't answer if someone called.

"...Beatrice, sir."

The man lets out a snort hearing this. I feel a little offended. Why would he laugh of my name? I know it's not the prettiest, but it carries a beautiful meaning: the one who brings joy.

"Beatrice." He repeats, his voice full of mockery. "A pretty name, but it doesn't fit a cursed soul."

I can feel the blood draining from my face. What does he mean by that?

"Pardon?..."

The man grins cruelly.

"Oh, you didn't know, did you?" He asks sarcastically.

"You're cursed, kid. Tragedy follows you around like a lost puppy. You'll never have a happy ending."

The weelchair man opens his mouth, but the man shuts him.

"No use sugarcoating it, Chiron. She needs to know."

[kieraelieson]

Can Contentment be Bad?

Oh look, I’m writing another weird essay thing in the wee hours of the morning. ~Insomnia~

This will involve details of my childhood, which may be triggering to people with similar experiences. Open the read-more with this knowledge.

My mother was a staunch Christian. She believed that in what she read in the Bible, happiness was never promised. However, Christians were commanded to contentment, and if they could manage that, they would be rewarded with joy (something somehow different and better than happiness, in a nebulous way).

Now her life was Hard. She had an abusive mother she grew up under, and barely had she left her when she met a man she would marry and would discover to be an abusive husband. She lived in poverty, and had eleven children, making the poverty much harder to cope with. She overworked herself to the point of physical illness, and eventually death. Her life was one truly difficult to find contentment in.

But she believed that God told her she must find it. And that she must find it in a very particular manner. For instance, she could not demand or fight for a better situation for herself. She told a story often of the first time she learned this.

‘When I only had the first two of you kids we were living in a trailer. The room we had you in was so tiny we couldn’t open the dresser drawers fully cause they ran into the baby bed, and I had to slide my way in and out sideways to get you in the mornings. Now I never wanted to live in the trailer, so one day I told your father, “I will not have another baby living in this!” And I heard God say to me, “Oh, what was that? You won’t?” And sure enough, your little sister was nine months old when we finally moved out.’

So she believed that her contentment must be found without altering her situation. Her ultimate solution ended up being twofold.

First, she began regularly reading books about martyrs, and about Christian missionaries that became prisoners of war or were otherwise in horrific, life threatening situations. She read them herself and aloud to us, comparing the horrors they survived to her life, and measuring her hardships as small in comparison.

Secondly, she ignored things too negative to accept. This started intentionally, and grew to become subconscious, and she forgot that she had ever done it. She began to get brain fog, and gaps in her memory. Often one of us would come to her, asking for help with Dad, he had hurt us, and had been doing so for a while. Her eyes would go wide and fill with tears. ‘He’s been doing what? I haven’t seen it.’ But in a day she would have forgotten again. She couldn’t stand to know her children were being hurt, so she didn’t.

I remember having a friend, and in one of the rare times we had a long conversation, she told me about what her parents did to her. I was horrified and enraged, recognizing the different abuse for what it was. I told Mom, seething. But she answered me very calmly.

“You need to be really careful not to hurt your friend.”

“Hurt my friend?! I want to hit her parents, not her!”

“If you talk badly about someone’s parents, and you’re correct about it, it could hurt them very badly. They could then see the badness in their parents for what it is. They’ll lose any contentment they had in their situation and just start fighting. Then they might slip into rebellion, and both their parents and God will be fighting them back. All because you made them aware of how bad their parents are.”

At the time, I believed Mom.

Now? I regret so badly not having told my friend how angry I was on her behalf. How much I hated what her parents did to her. How it was clear and horrific abuse. How someone needed to tell the authorities.

How a good life should be fought for.

It was several years later that I got a few therapy sessions with a wonderful therapist. I told her of my struggles with hopelessness, escapism, and dissociation.

She gave me the best advice I think anyone could have ever given me.

“Pick something, anything, that you know you can do that would be a bright spot in a day.”

At that point in time, I could drive, and knew the location of a nearby Sonic. I suggested I could get myself an ice cream.

“That works perfectly. Start doing that, say every Friday evening. Every single one you can, go get yourself that ice cream.”

I certainly wasn’t going to pass up ice cream, but I wanted to understand the why.

“Your life is very dark and difficult, so much that you can hardly stand living in it. So you need some bright spots. This is your first goal. Once you’ve got it down, we’ll add in another. And once you can manage a few things that could brighten a day, I’m going to have you plan things within your control that could brighten up a week, or a month, or a year. The ultimate goal is to change whatever you can to make your life worth living.”

I started getting ice cream. Then I bought myself a coloring book and began coloring on occasion. I already read fanfiction, but I began pursuing friendships with the people who wrote the stories I liked. I prioritized texting my new friends. I even planned and pulled off a meeting with some in person.

Finally, I made the biggest leap ever. I left my abusive home to live with my boyfriend.

Now, I remember her advice when I slip into depression.

I make small bright spots: I’ve started adding cheezits to my grocery orders. I play video games a few times a week that make me happy. I have a few creative hobbies, and I make time to do a little of one of them every day.

I make medium bright spots: I plant and water seeds so that I can watch the flowers grow. I’m working with a group to make an audio drama. I go on dates with my partners.

And I make bigger goals that will brighten my life considerably: I’m saving up for a new laptop that can handle the editing programs I want to use. I’m planning and looking forward to a house with a larger yard one day. I’m working on painting my apartment in brighter, happier colors.

Life gets better. And true contentment and happiness is fought for and won.

[healerqueen]

The Chronicles of Narnia: 5, 7, 8, 11, 15

5. do you have a favorite character? who?

I love so many Narnia characters so much, but I think Lucy and Aslan are my very favorites. They're just so special. There's something profound about Lucy's joy and delight in Narnia and Aslan, and in Aslan's character. I had a special liking for Caspian growing up, but I don't love him more than other special characters now. (Though I enjoy reading about him even now. I just started rereading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.)

7. how does the story compare to your initial impressions of it? has it surprised you yet? how? I first read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when I was 8 years old, so I don't remember my first impression of that book or a couple of the others. I distinctly remember my first experience with some of them, though. I think my liking for all of them has only grown over the years, and I haven't fallen out of love with them. I remember sneaking downstairs to eavesdrop when my mom was reading aloud The Magician's Nephew to my older sister in the evenings. I was creeped out by it at the time, and was disturbed again when I read the book for myself. I like it better now, and I appreciate the beautiful parts of Magician's Nephew as well as the chilling ones. It was good to discover the wonder in that book later on. But I like it just a hair less than the other books. As for The Last Battle, I have a definite answer for this one. I first read it when I was 12 years old, and I didn't enjoy it quite as much because it's a tragedy. I also didn't like Tirian, probably because of what he did to save his friend at the beginning of the book and also because I wanted him to be like Caspian and Rilian, and he wasn't. Since then, after rereading the book and hearing @thejoyousjester talk about it, I've changed my mind about The Last Battle and about Tirian too. I think it's beautiful, even when it's uncomfortable. And I think Tirian is actually more likeable, noble, and admirable than his predecessors, a man of good character to the core, and the kind of character I value most of all. 8. what questions are or were you most excited to learn the answers to while experiencing the story for the first time?

I remember reading the first chapter of The Horse and His Boy for the first time, which was a huge event and very exciting to me. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew something big was happening when the Tarkaan showed up riding his horse. I think I was also riveted by the moonlit horseback chase scene with the lions. As the adventure unfolded, I'm sure I remained excited to find out what would happen. 11. if you were put in the main character's position, how well would that go for you on a scale of 1-5?

I think I have Lucy's wonder and joy, but like Susan, I might not have enough of an adventurous spirit to enjoy exploring an unfamiliar world. @thejoyousjester tells me I'm like Jill in all the best ways, which is an honor, since I always admired Jill (especially in The Last Battle). I think I would remain steadfast when tested and endure hardship willingly. And I think a love for Aslan would drive me. I hope I'd do as well as the main characters would. Perhaps a 4? 15. what time are you most likely to be found reading/watching this story? (time of year, time of day, season of life, whatever makes sense to you)

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: winter or spring Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Horse and His Boy: summer (I'm currently squeezing in a VODT reread before we really get into fall.) The Silver Chair: late fall/early winter (I'm planning a reread soon.)

[jimmycarterghostland]

I finished reading Interlude 6 of Worm.

I read some of this interlude before, back when I was reading scenes of Worm out of order. Before I started this proper read. I misremembered something. I thought that Lung killed Bakuda in the prison van. So, when she was taken out of it, still alive, I assumed she wasn't going to be killed off in this interlude. It's weird, I actually liked her as a villain. And Lung and Bakuda as a duo was oddly interesting. It was also jarring to see Lung treat someone with respect(he called that lady ma'am). I love Lung. Dude is such a menacing villain. He's an evil bad guy, but I find this evil bad guy interesting. And Bakuda seemed to genuinely like him. As much as a narcissist could like someone. I was sad to see her go, assuming Lung did manage to kill her.

I didn't expect there to be two narrators in a single chapter. I didn't expect to get a Lung POV. As brief as it was, it was nice.

These past few interludes have been great. I haven't enjoyed most of the earlier ones, but Gregor's and Canary's interludes were amazing. Especially Gregor's.

Worm just keeps getting better and better.

The villains are so interesting. I find myself rooting for the villains a lot. It feels like the overall focus is on the villains. They're pretty much the stars of the novel, so far. Also, I was expecting Canary, Bakuda, and Lung to escape from the prison van and start messing things up for the heroes later. But the good guys were competent and made sure the three prisoners didn't get a chance to escape. It really did seem like they were going to successfully escape, though.

I finished reading the Tangle arc, which means I'll have to go back to my three chapters per day routine. I had decided to read more than three, because the story was that good, but I'm going to go back to my previous routine. Reading these Worm chapters has prevented me from working on my ongoing online stories, but it was worth it.

I appreciate that this web serial exists. Seriously. It's so good. It's so much better than a lot of traditionally published literature out there. Worm is written so well. Intelligent characters, no out of character moments, great description, etc. And I haven't noticed any plot holes or noticeable continuity errors.

Wildbow has a way of describing things in a way that I easily understand. He knows how to use things like similes well. I can't give any specific examples, but they're there.

And I love the villains in Worm. It's strange, but I find a lot of joy in reading about these obviously evil villains. Like Lung and Bakuda. There are some not-so-evil villains too, and I like them as well. I do like the villains in Worm more than I do the heroes, though.

Wildbow is great at crafting interesting, complex characters. He is like George RR Martin in this regard. I didn't like Bakuda at first, but I ended up liking her as a villain, despite her being a horrible person, and I enjoyed seeing her, right up until Lung apparently killed her off-screen. The characters in Worm is part of the reason why this novel is so addicting, along with the intelligence of the characters.

I discovered Worm years ago. I think I googled the longest online story, and it led to me discovering Worm. Or maybe I googled a one million word-long story, and that was what led me to finding Worm. Whatever happened, I discovered Worm. I've known about it for years, researched it, and read various scenes out of order. But I could never commit to a full beginning to end read. I decided to start one weeks ago, and these daily Worm posts I've been making are a result of that.

Worm is the web serial that made me start taking web serials seriously. When I discovered it, I was a crappy Wattpad writer. Now I mainly write for Royal Road, which my currently-being-rewritten web serial, 33, is hosted on. I'm also a better writer than I was when I first discovered Worm. Even now, this web serial is still an inspiration for me. Now that I'm reading it from beginning to end, I'm even more inspired to write my own web serials. Someday I want to write an extremely long web serial that will make people feel the way I feel about Worm.

We need more literature like Worm. We need more well-written web serials.

Another thing, I can't visualize when I read anymore. Instead of everything playing like a movie in my head when I read, nothing happens. I thought there was no enjoyment in reading(or writing) anymore because of that. But Worm has proved me wrong. I genuinely love reading it.

Thanks, Wildbow, for creating this masterpiece. Worm deserves the praise that it gets.

[acacia-may]

Hullo. Can I ask for 13, 31, and... 43, please! Thank you! And also, here's a hug (that is also a nice distraction): 🫂

Thank you for the ask and the hug, friend! 🥰 (I definitely needed a hug today so it's greatly appreciated. And sending one right back at you too🫂)

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

Well you probably know this one because you were part of it, but the first time I ever posted one of my fics to AO3 was definitely a pleasant surprise. I honestly didn't expect anyone to read my story, and I posted it right before I went to sleep (so I could just leave it and not worry about it anymore), but then, when I woke up in the morning, I was shocked to discover I had kudos, hits, and comments from some lovely writers in the BC fandom (including you who had left the very first comment!). I was so flattered that people had actually read my work, liked what I had written, and had taken the time to tell me that they enjoyed it, and I was so encouraged to keep writing and posting my fanfictions. I don't think I'd be posting my fics anymore if it hadn't been for the support and encouragement of wonderful people like you. And I will always be indebted to you, especially, the very first person who commented so thank you so, so much for that! 🫂

31. Tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

I answered this question here and talked about one of my OCs (since it was worded as "my characters"), but this time I'll answer slightly differently and talk about canon characters I love writing (even though they are not mine 😅) [No pressure tagging @kalolasfantasyworld who originally asked this question in case this was the answer you were actually hoping for when you asked but I took the question too literally]

I'm sure it's probably not a secret but my favorite Black Clover character to write is Langris. He just has so much depth to him and is so indignant and snarky but such a tsun about his feelings. I love bringing out his more dry sense of humor, his blunt honest, and the depths of how much he cares for his (select few) family & friends. Writing him bantering with someone who can match wits with him (like Vanessa) is always a blast as well!

Another BC character I love writing is Charmy. I think she's just a treasure trove of snarky one-liners (which I hope are funny to the reader) and I absolutely adore putting her into my fics just to look up from her glorious & beloved food to tell it like it is. ^^

When it comes to choosing the POV character though that's a little bit different. I try to push myself as a writer by choosing POV characters out of my comfort zone and really trying to give each of them a distinct voice. I like to think that sometimes that works out, even if it can be a struggle for me to write in the POV of characters that have a totally different thought process than I do. For instance, it can be really fun to write a character that talks before they think (i.e. Asta) because they'll really just say whatever pops into their heads, but it's difficult writing in their perspective because there's no introspection (and I am personally deeply introspective so I have to pull myself back from that in the narration when writing the POV of one of these characters). I love writing those "talk now, think later characters" as supporting, side, or background people, but I find it hard to get into their heads and worry my attempts to write them come off too broody sometimes. 🙈 So there's definitely a difference between characters I enjoy writing into a story and characters I enjoy writing as the main, POV character of a story, if that makes sense?

43. How did writing change you?

I think writing really helped my confidence and encouraged me to put myself out there a little bit more. It also helped me learn to communicate better and verbalize concepts and ideas (and headcanons) that I didn't really have the words to explain in just regular discussion or an analysis post.

Given how much I can ramble on and on, it's a little ironic but I genuinely think of myself as a "when words fail" fic writer since most of my fanfics exist to explore and/or explain concepts that come up in discussions I've had with friends & family (both irl & online) about these characters I love and/or their relationships with one another that I couldn't just explain without showing them how I see it. I started writing Black Clover fanfiction after getting frustrated at my inability to explain to a friend irl how I saw Finral and Vanessa becoming friends and imagined them building this incredibly strong platonic bond with each other despite Finral being seemingly incapable of being "just friends" with an attractive, eligible woman in his age range. And it sort of just spiraled from there. Almost every fanfiction I've ever written connects back to a meaningful discussion I've had and/or a desire to express how I personally interpret a certain character or relationship. It's so nice to have an expressive outlet for that, and it's been humbling to see other people connect to and respond to my ideas and takes on the characters too!

[ruvviks]

🎮 🖊️ 🎶 🌈 for isaac, 🍎 🔺 🤍 😥 for heavenly for the oc details asks!! <3

oc asks!

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

answered here!

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons?

heavenly knows how to use a lot of weapons yeah! mostly uses a crossbow which shoots essentially small wooden stakes with a silver core, it's his favorite weapon of all time :] he doesn't use guns a lot because they're mostly ineffective against vampires but he's got some modified guns that shoot handcrafted bullets or gauges which CAN hurt and slow down vamps

other than that he's also very good with melee weapons. he's very good with blades, mostly knives :^) he loves his throwing knives so much

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

heavenly can be very blunt, a bit passive, and overall incredibly stubborn. it's nice to always know exactly how he's feeling when you ask him and him being very direct makes it easier to communicate with him, but it can also make him a bit rude from time to time. his passiveness is mostly due to him wanting to see all sides of a situation to fully understand it, but sometimes he waits just a bit too long. his stubbornness means he can be incredibly selfless and brave, but also incredibly stupid at the same time. duality of man

😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool?

heavenly can usually stay calm under pressure, but it took him very long to get to that point. his breaking point is still easily reached but he can stay calm for as long as needed and then die about the whole thing later when he's in private and can actually afford to lie face down on the floor for several hours

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

isaac loves reading a lot!! he's been alone for a large chunk of his life so reading books is a very good way for him to pass the time. he's read SO many of them over the years. he also likes to write :^) mostly writes articles for random websites or short stories and stuff like that. lastly i feel like he would also like video games. he might be old and also a century old vampire but that means he's had enough time to discover the joys of a nintendo ds lite with mysims on it

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

isaac has one tattoo currently, which i don't know the design for yet but it would be related to his bloodline! it's a tattoo they gave him after he grew out of his youngblood phase and it's to signal to other vampires which bloodline he belongs to. it's on the back of his neck :^)

later in the story he also ends up getting a second tattoo which is a little sun on his hip to match heavenly's crescent moon hip tattoo <3

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

isaac can, much like heavenly, enjoy any kind of music i think! he's lived entirely too long to be a hater of things, he's found he's a lot happier trying to find the positive in everything around him and music would make him very happy :^) he would listen to non-english music a lot, as well as instrumental stuff

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

isaac is a man and uses he/him pronouns! he's cis but in the cisn't way, he doesn't really care all too much about putting a label on himself for that and just goes with what's most convenient for others. same would go for his sexual orientation, he identifies as gay but whatever that means exactly is between him and god

[lichfucker]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

oh this is adorable. I love this so much.

five is an interesting number because-- discounting the four wips I consider active and the fan music I've written-- I've only published seven fics. so this'll be less a question of which ones I include and more a question of which I don't.

all right. let's get into it.

in no particular order:

Through His Stomach - Black Sails - E - 24k - ongoing this is my dark fairytale au. when I refer to "hagfic" I'm talking about this piece. Thomas is dying, and Flint strikes a deal with a mysterious magical entity known as the Cook to save his life. this fic is full of hunger and magic and psychosexual fixation and devotion and desperation and cannibalism and some of the most gorgeous prose I've ever written in my life. I learned how to write smut for this fic. it's my pride and joy. it has my heart in a way no other fic ever will.

Ner Tamid - Black Sails - M - 3k - complete if Through His Stomach has my heart, Ner Tamid has my soul. this is a character study about Silver and judaism and grief, masquerading as canon divergence wherein he cannibalizes Muldoon's corpse in the doldrums. I had a fun little mental health episode the night before my mom's birthday and wrote this whole thing in one ten-hour sitting. it's a pesach story-- the doldrums the plagues, Muldoon Nachshon, the dairy goat the paschal lamb, and Silver the prophet. Silver Moses. it's about the burden of responsibility and the burden of survival. it's about seeing how far you'd go just to keep shouldering that weight.

Sanguine - Ted Lasso - M - 19k - complete my Trent/Ted vampire au featuring Trent as the vampire (I got nearly 30k into my Trent/Ted vampire au featuring Ted as the vampire, but I honestly don't know if I'll ever finish that one). Sanguine is an s2 canon divergence wherein Trent goes into a frenzy after Ted lies about his panic attack and kills someone. it's about want and monstrosity, about seeing the grotesque and loving it anyway. I'm especially proud of how the narrative voice shifts between the scenes from Trent's pov and Ted's. it's just… a good story. Ted Lasso is the biggest fandom I've written for, so it makes sense that this is my most popular fic, but it very much deserves to be my most popular fic regardless. it's just a good story. it's a good story.

Cold, Dark, Depraved - Black Sails - E - 10k - complete my latest crime, extremely heavy on the angst. I nicknamed this fic "anti-comfort fic" on purpose. a canon-compliant look at s3 and s4 wherein Silver and Flint had been sleeping together for a long while, then broke up when they got to Maroon Island. it's about grief and cruelty and saying, "there can be no happiness in the world, and to prove it I will go out of my way to eradicate any shred of happiness I can find." this is a fic about beating yourself half to death and digging your fingers into every bruise. it's about love and denial and care and grief. grief is my favorite subject.

Five Girls Annie Almost Kissed and One She Did - Community - T - 11k - complete this is the earliest fic on my ao3 (I had a different account I used in high school; it's still out there somewhere but it's not worth finding). a canon-compliant character study of Annie from middle school all the way through the first few seasons of the show, chronicling her journey towards discovering lesbianism. I'm sure if I rewrote it today, six years later, it would look very different, but it's precious to me as it is. this is a fic about Annie, and it's a fic about me in equal measure.

there it is. that's my five. shout-out to the two I didn't include (Fraught, 15k of fucked-up smut for a book series three people have read, and Crawl 'Til Dawn, the Annie/Britta vampire au I left unfinished for four and a half years but finally got me back into writing, another piece I'd do very differently if I wrote it today).

thanks for letting me gush about my work. it makes me so very happy to do.

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(Kyleigh's POV)(AN: A lot of the time I go into gameplay with an idea for what screenshots I want, but sometimes the game has other ideas and I get a whole new gameplay idea as I'm playing and I just go with it. This is an example of one of those days.)

Time is just flying by! Having the whole family in town is such a great time where all of our spirits are upbuilt and refreshed until we next see them again. We're heading down to see my parents for the Christmas and New Year period, so it's another season of preparing and packing for the drive to see them. My OB scheduled my glucose test at her clinic, which is a 45 minute drive away, and since I'd be gone for basically the whole day, it was going to be Barrett alone with all of the children. We figured it was easier to have one of us stay home with the kids than to ask one of the sisters to babysit, so Macie came to get me and we drove over for a day of testing.

I did the testing over a weekend so we didn't have to coordinate the homeschooling efforts for the kids, so it was essentially just a free day for them him to keep the children fed and the house in one piece. I had to leave just after breakfast, so everyone was eating and distracted when I made my hasty exit, or else little Preston and Jefferson would've thrown the biggest of fits.

With the littles being in a constant state of growth and development, we're all learning new things about them with every day that passes, both the good habits and bad habits. Olivia recently discovered that she loves feeding the floor as well as herself, so that will be something that she needs to be guided out of because food waste isn't something we endorse in our house.

It seems that all the big events happen when I'm not home, as while I was away both Chloe and Benji lost teeth. It wasn't the first tooth being lost for either of them, but it's still quite a big thing to happen. They both had been complaining of a loose tooth for the past few days, but I didn't think they'd both bite the bullet and deal with it themselves - I attribute the decisiveness to their dad being the one at home with them.

These are the pictures that they used Barrett's phone to send to me, and both sets of grandparents. They love being able to document different milestones in life and send them to their grandparents, especially my parents since they live so far away. I love that their bond as siblings is so close, especially between the triplets - it's just a surprise that AJ didn't lose a tooth as well.

With a family as large as ours, wear and tear on the various items in the house is tremendous, so Barrett makes it a point to always be doing something to fix and/or upgrade the various items we have around the house. Recently Barrett and I have made our housing a persistent point of prayer; one option is buying a house that is larger than this one that we can further grow in, another is buying land and building a house that caters specifically to our needs as a large family. Another option is just adding another level to this house so we can grow upward, since we can't expand the walls any further.

The kids have definitely learnt the value of teamwork, and I'm happy that they were able to work together to clean up after the meal. Whilst dad was off tinkering around the house, the kids banded together to clean up the mess after lunch time.

Barrett sat and read all the kids a bible story in the afternoon before they had a free afternoon. Before we married, we used to talk about what we wanted for our future children and how we planned on raising them up in the Lord, and seeing it happen all these years later brings my heart so much joy. We do scripture memorisation with the kids, and the more we focus on it, the better they get with it.

Casandra came over for a bit in the afternoon before I got back, she has other commitments which stopped her from coming over to help earlier, but she was happy to find that everyone had survived the day with dad. The toddlers were down for their naps so she was able to spend some time with the big kids whilst Barrett was working on the 'honey-do' list that he usually tackles over the weekend.

After a long day at the doctor's office, with loads of scans, blood draws, and loads of drinking that glucose mixture, I finally got my diagnoses. Thankfully baby is doing great and growing well, but today my doctor confirmed that I've developed gestational diabetes, anaemia, and that I've got preeclampsia. So far the only thing to be heavily on the watch for is the preeclampsia, and have a general watch over the diabetes. It's taken to me 9th pregnancy to have pregnancy-related issues, but I'm thankful my doctor is great and we're working on getting baby here safely with both me and baby okay.