#less than 1500 words

[heyitsme1040]

Mine or Theirs? [stucky]

summary : Bucky can't tell if some of his memories are his and that they happened, or if their what Hydra has convinced him. He finally asks Steve for some clarity. Steve is happy to tell him the truth.

pairings : Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

warnings : None. This may be the tiniest bit angsty near the end. No swearing. This is just purely self-indulgent. Can be read as either platonic Steve & Bucky, or romantic Stucky.

word count : 700

AO3 (x)

Steve and Bucky were on the couch. Bucky has his head in Steve's lap while Steve runs his fingers through Bucky's hair. Bucky's just thinking and decides to finally ask Steve for some help.

"Hey Steve? Can I ask you a favor?" He starts.

"Sure Buck, what do you need?" Steve easily agrees.

"Some of my memories," Bucky closes his eyes, "I can't tell if they're mine. Or, y'know, what Hydra wanted me to believe. Could you just, I dunno, tell me? Like if they really happened or not?" By the end Bucky sounds so unsure of himself.

Steve's fingers never once falter in their path through Bucky's hair, "Of course."

A few moments pass in silence. Bucky takes a deep breath to steady himself, then opens his eyes to meet Steve's. "When your mom died... I looked after you?"

Steve nods, "Yeah Buck, you did. You were my best friend, so you suggested we get that apartment. I wasn't eating, I barely got out of bed. I was a mess and you helped me find a way to keep going."

Bucky releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, glad that was his memory. "You rescued me. Back in the war. That Hydra base. You found me and got me out of there?"

Steve hates how uncertain Bucky sounds about having been rescued. "I did, " Steve chokes out past the lump in his throat. "You kept repeating your name and tag number. Like you were trying to cling onto who you were. I found you and got you out of some medical lab after freeing everyone else they captured. You weren't with them, but I knew you had to be there. I wouldn't leave until I found you," Steve trailed off. "We led all the others back to camp together."

"That's when they first," Bucky takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head. "I just remember not believing you'd found me. That there was no way I'd get out of there. I couldn't remember if that was real or if I was so desperate to be saved that my brain made it up."

Silence passed while Steve stroked Bucky's hair. Bucky processed what Steve told him, relieved it was real. Glad Steve had found him that day.

"Any other memories you're questioning right now?" Steve carefully prompted. "I can answer them whenever you're ready," he reassures, not wanting to pressure Bucky.

Bucky turns his face away as he states what he knows, "I'm just a weapon. Only good for harm. A means to an end."

Steve's fingers still and Bucky stiffens. Steve guides Bucky's face to look at him, but Bucky's eyes are tightly shut. Awaiting an outcome that Steve knows isn't true.

"Look at me," Steve urges and eventually Bucky's eyes meet his. "That's not real. Hydra made you believe that. That's not your thought, it's theirs. It's wrong," Steve says fiercely with such conviction."You are not a weapon. You're not some tool. You're a good person, Buck. Please try to believe that. I know it. You've always been good, okay?"

Bucky can't help the tears trying to fall. He weakly nods with a sniffle.

"You were forced to do things you didn't want to," Steve continues on. "You were tortured. They wanted you to think that you were a weapon so that they could control you. You aren't what they tried to make you into Bucky. You're a good man who always looked out for me. You fought the guys who picked on those smaller than them. You'd take a girl out to meet her friends so she'd be safe. There is nothing bad about you. You're one of the best people in this world. One of few to this day."

Bucky can't hold back his tears any longer. They fall freely and race down onto Steve's lap. Bucky slowly sits up and clings to Steve. Steve guides Bucky's head to his shoulder and scratches the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Thank you," Bucky wetly chokes out.

Steve just holds him closer still.

"I will always tell you if something was real or not," Steve promises. 

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[formercreepypastakid]

The Botanist and The Preistess

Summary

Tucked between the small houses of the poor side of the capital there is a little shop. From the outside, it looks like a common house save from the big glass on the front; on the inside the walls are full of hanging herbs, flowers and other plants.

On the other side of the counter, stands a man with a kind smile who's always ready to make some small talk and offer some kind words. That and the sweet smell of the herbs, made a certain pigling hybrid certain that that was the perfect place to take his sick brother.

Author's notes

Happy new Year! Have this one shot as a treat!

If you want to make a similar AU, inspired by this one, feel free as long as you credit me.

Much love,

formercreepypastakid (aka Bela)

The botanist and the preistess

Tucked between the small houses of the poor side of the capital there is a little shop. From the outside, it looks like a common house save from the big glass on the front; on the inside the walls are full of hanging herbs, flowers and other plants.

On the other side of the counter, stands a man with a kind smile who's always ready to make some small talk and offer some kind words. That and the sweet smell of the herbs, made a certain pigling hybrid certain that that was the perfect place to take his sick brother.

Phil was humming a cheerful tone under his breath, turned away from the door, when the bell above the door dingled. "Good morning!" He said automatically. "I'll be with you in a moment!"

"Sir…" sounded a small voice, hesitant, as if the kid was still learning to speak. "My brother is ill."

The botanist turned around instantly and he had to lean over the counter to see the two little things that had entered his shop. The taller one was about the same height as a ten year old, but knowing Piglin anatomy, Phil could tell he was older than that; he carried a smaller one on his back, about the same age, but looking terribly ill.

"Oh goddess." Phil gasped, the kid flinched slightly. "Come here, quick, he doesn't look well." Rushed the botanist, raising the entrance to the counter and guiding the boys through the backdoor that led to the working space.

The taller kid sat his brother down on the chair Phil led him to, but refused to let go of his hand as the botanist hurried around the room to gather the needed things.

"Okay… I need to know a few things before I help, can you answer me some questions." He asked, pulling another chair and sitting in front of the kids.

The kid pondered for a few seconds, looking at his sleeping brother, then he nodded.

"Okay, What’s yours and your brother's names?" Asked Phil

"Technoblade." Said the kid pointing at himself. "Wilbur." he pointed at his brother.

"Okay, now how old are you both?" The botanist asked again.

"Twelve, twins." Technoblade answered, eyeing his twin. “Please, he’s very cold.”

"Alright., don’t worry, I'll be quick." The Botanist seemed to sign in relief, then he stood up, picking up the herbs he had separated and starting to crunch them.

Technoblade looked over at the cauldron bubbling in the corner with mild suspicion. He wanted to go check on it, and look what herbs The Botanist was using, but he also didn’t want to let go of Wilbur's hand. "Name?" He asked instead. He was glad the lady from the temple had allowed him to borrow books during the last month, it would have been a pain to not know any common now.

"Oh! Sorry mate, I haven't introduced myself." Said The Botanist without turning his gaze away from the herbs; "My name is Philza. You did great by coming here, your brother isn't in any immediate danger, but he sure must be in some pain. This potion will help him recover in no time!" He threw the grounded herbs into the cauldron and a sweet smell spreaded through the room.

Wilbur inhaled sharply by Techno’s side, like simply smelling the potion was already relieving his pain. The man turned back to Techno with a kind smile.

“I have no… pay…” Techno said, shyly. They had already used the little gold they had; turns out it wasn’t that valuable outside the nether.

“Pay? Oh there is no need to pay.” Philza sounded so sure that Techno had no courage to retort, after all, the lady from the temple told them to come here, she wouldn't have sent them unless she knew that it would be fine not to pay, right?

“Alright…” Technoblade said.

The botanist made Wilbur swallow the sweet-smelling liquid, then carried him to a room upstairs and laid him on the big bed saying; “There, you two can rest while I make some food.” And Technoblade hoped with all his being that the man was actually safe, because he was so tired that he laid beside Wilbur and fell asleep almost instantly.

Philza made potato stew for the twin hybrids resting in his room, then he got some cough syrup from his storage and set it all aside, wondering if there was anything else he could make.

Through the years, many children had stepped in his shop, some in ragged clothes and little coins on their tiny hands, others with nothing but dirt and pleading looks; Phil took all of them in, some for only hours, others for days, some for weeks or months. Some would come back holding their parent’s hand and saying “look” The potion worked!” others he would never hear from again. None of them were hybrids.

Hybrids were somewhat of a rare sight, mostly because of the hardships of surviving outside their own realm. No wonder the first hybrids he ever saw other than himself were pale and shivering, one of them being very ill due to the temperature difference. Despite that, they seemed fine, well taken care of. It was probably just a reaction to the weather.

With steps light as feathers, Phil inched the door open to check on the children, and saw them both asleep, burrowed beneath the covers and hugged so close he was worried Wilbur would overheat, then he brushed this worry aside, if those kids really came from the nether they would be used to sleeping in piles, probably with other children their age.

Phil wanted to ask them why they left the nether, because judging from their state they were not used to overworld temperatures-

The bell on the front door jingled again and Phil halted on his thoughts, going to the front, if it was another customer he would probably have to turn them down. He opened the door, being met with a familiar face.

“Are they here? Did they arrive safely? God I should have come with them!” Kristin went on a tangent.

“Hey, hey!” He interrupted her, holding his lover’s hands and meeting her eyes. “You mean the two little piglins? They are fine, sleeping safely and sound.” He reassured her, Kristin sighed in relief. “How did you even meet them?”

“I didn’t.” She explained. “They came to the temple to pray and they were oh-so ragged! I couldn’t just let them leave. Besides, I’ve never seen piglin hybrids in the overworld, much less praying to the goddess of death.” As she talked, Phil took her through the back door and sat down at the table with her. After a pause, she continued; “I wish I could have done more for them, not let them get sick at all, but the temple doesn't really have resources for children… Sorry to throw them onto you all of a sudden like this, Phil but I had duties…”

Phil reached for her hand over the table; “Hey, you did amazing, they were clean, well-fed and wearing good clothes, kids just get sick sometimes, it happens. And it’s no big deal! Send me a hundred sick kids and I’ll take care of all of them. I'm a botanist, that’s literally my job!” That took a little snort out of her.

Phil smiled and poured himself a bowl of stew. Maybe he liked this feeling a little too much, chatting in the kitchen while two kids slept in his room. Maybe he was overdue to an expansion to his house, an extra room couldn’t hurt…

The end (maybe)

[cannibalovers]

since some ppl did say yes, buckle up for a VERY long analysis because this song and "want" + a few others are some of my ultimate hannibal songs.

Hannibal song of the day: song no.1

a bit about the song:

"Missing Piece" (released in 1997) is a song by Recoil, a music project by Alan Wilder (former member of Depeche Mode, a group which I absolutely love and have a lot of their songs in my playlist). The song was written and sang as a duo by Alan Wilder and Siobhan Lynch. It's a moody and dark electronica song with jazzy elements and even a violin solo In short, the song is about self discovery and enlightement that a relationship has brought to the narrator, who has felt alone and misunderstood their whole life until they met the person who was their "missing piece". It explores the complex emotions and realisations that arose from the relationship(whether the relationship ended or not isn't really implied, at least in my eyes, although for my view on the song when it comes to hannibal, i think it might have).

now, i think from that it's already clear enough that I'm thinking about hannigram for this. I mean c'mon, a narrator that felt misunderstood and has been afraid to fully opening up to anybody, because of it's risks, even though they have so much love to give. That's literally Hannibal.

Although I feel like the narrator can also be Will but with how open and desparate the narrator seems, I keep thinking of Hannibal.

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

Verse 1

"I wanna write myself

On the walls of your heart

Because the knot that holds us

Altogether throws us all apart

I'm gonna stop myself

Before I say something true

Because the answers

That roll from my tongue

Are nothing to do with you"

Hannibal loves to impact people (literally manipulates them), even though it doesn't last (usually).

Through the show, we can see just how many people he actually changed, changing their mindsets, convincing them to murder etc. that's more leaving an impact on their brain, but with Will, he's different. He indeed does change his mindset but he also really tries to get a place in Will's heart and get his attention because, as he confessed to Bedelia, Will intrigues him. I think the lyrics of the narrator wanting to write themselves on the walls of somebody's heart and leave an impact on them is just so incredibly hannibal.

But again, those people don't last usually, they usually end up dead, be it as Hannibal's dinner or something else. He knows this danger, and he knows this complicated knot of manipulation and lies he tied himself and Will with will most likely break off at some point, which he slowly comes to realise he doesn't want it to happen. (and then fucking mizumono happens)

In the song, the narrator hides the truth, most likely because of the fear of rejection, fearing the person doesn't feel the same, or because of the fear of losing the person. In season 2, his decision was to continue lying, not confessing the truth of his plan to Will, in my eyes to try and secure him in his hold, get his trust and love, see if Will would truly understand him and accept him for who he is - so, he stops himself from telling Will the truth, pretending his plan, his answers have nothing to do with his love for Will, but instead pretend that his plan is to destroy Will's life, leaving out the part where he's hoping Will would want to try and rebuild his life with Hannibal.

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

Chorus

"(And) I hold a piece up to the light

Hold a piece up to my eye

Found a missing piece from my set

Found a person I'd not met (x2)

Sometimes is a lonely place (x5)"

self explanatory. There's so little to say, because the lyrics describe it so well, yet at the same time there's SO much to say.

The chorus is sung as a duo, both the narrator and the narrator's person. They both feel like they're the same and are each other's missing pieces, harmonising together.

I truly thing the best way to describe hannigram's relationship is by saying that they're each other's missing pieces. Hannibal seems to be a well-organized set of his pieces that make up him as well as a set of other people that he manipulated kind of as a list (maybe some as trophies). He's so composed, he's sure of his values and knows who he is, he's fully in control yet still felt incomplete, so he has spent his whole life finding that last missing piece (perhaps another meaning for missing, maybe he already had one and lost it, the missing piece being his sister........ ouch, although can't give much thought to this cuz haven't seen season 3 yet), a person who will be just like him and will complete him, not judge him, see him, accept him and be with him. That piece is Will.

He holds him up to the light, analyses him, studies him, gets to know him to determine if he is indeed the missing piece (in the show, he does his usual tactic of manipulating with the intention of making him his dinner but the more he got to know him, the more intrigued he got and saw a possibility of Will understanding him), and he indeed is his missing piece.

The fact that the narrator's person only sings during the chorus makes me think of how Hannibal made Will realise that he is Hannibal's missing piece and that although Will didn't really want it to be true, Hannibal helped him realise that Hannibal is Will's missing piece too - That's why I see the narrator as Hannibal and narrator's person as Will. He seems to be the second to realise this and accept this.

"Sometimes is a lonely place" is straightforward, I think. The two literally admit and show that they feel alone without each other, they have never felt so true to themselves as they feel when they're together, a room or a moment in life without one another is empty, a period without each other is a period they feel the most lonely.

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

Verse 2

"So tow me over to the light

The sound, the sound it is in sight

Found my heart was contained within a cell

Found my heart in this tuck-a-way-me world"

ngl, verse 2 and chorus are quite similar in meaning to me. Maybe it's more so Hannibal letting Will study him as well and get to know him, letting Will tow him over to the light (let Will inside his mind). I feel like the lyrics about the narrator's heart being contained in a cell is maybe Hannibal becoming more and more aware of how restrictive he was with his emotions, how his human suit made him lock away his real heart and after many tries of trying to find the right key, Will finally found it and unlocked Hannibal's true self to the world. Overall, I feel like Hannibal feels the world is very restrictive for his type of people but he has found a way to live with it and accept it, although the desire to find a person like him never disappeared

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

Coda

"Sometimes I held the missing piece

I held the missing piece

I held sometimes

I held the missing piece

I held..."

the end seems very lamentful to me. Sorry but it reminds me of mizumono

the end is overall so beautiful, I love how dark, slow yet jazzy and classy the song sounds, the coda just sounds like absolute heaven to me and its instrumental reminds me of the show overall so so much

but anyhow, the lyrics getting repeated, the moody, whiny tone the narrator sings it in combined with the reverb and minor key just immediately makes me think that the narrator lost their missing piece, reminiscing the times they had with them. Because of that, I immediately think of Mizumono and how distraught Hannibal was when he realised that Will betrayed him, letting Will see him just for Will to try and get him killed, even though he had a plan of giving back Will everything that he lost and everything that was precious to him. The whole song sounding quite blurry makes me think of how much emptiness Hannibal probably felt after the events in mizumono, how much of a blur everything was to him.

in conclusion, the song is literally so hannibal lecter coded to me

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

additional notes: i already mentioned this song on my previous blog actually, together with "want" cuz together theyre AMAZING, i see want more from Wills perspective, i'll do that one tmr

could be lacking a little bit cuz i havent seen season 3 yet, maybe after it ill have some more thoughts but wont add them, i leave it at that

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

my playlist

to anybody who read this, thank you and hope you enjoyed my rant<3

[tinkertoysdamn]

Fic: Escape (oh god, not this song)

“I think for this task,” Loki said, looking over their planning boards, “we’re going to need a Thor variant.”

Mobius, coffee in hand, glanced over the same materials.  He was doubtful.  “But who’s going to help us?”  He took a pointed sip.  “You aren’t exactly the most,” he paused, glancing over his paper cup, “trustworthy.”

“True.”  Loki wasn’t foolish enough to deny it, “but according to this device,” referring to the Tempad, “we may have a possibility here.”  He showed Mobius the coordinates.

The other man shrugged, surprisingly cool and collected in the face of existential uncertainty.  “Sure, worth a shot.”

Once ready, they teleported to the coordinate points, and were surprised to find themselves on a spaceship.  There was no Thor, but a motley crew of aliens and one Midgardian woman all lounging about.

The Midgardian woman, a brunette with wavy hair in her late thirties, glanced up from the comic she was reading upon sensing their arrival.  Loki was surprised at how unperturbed she seemed at their sudden appearance.  

“What do you think?” the Midgardian asked her compatriot, a creature that looked like a raccoon.  “Asgardian?”

“Yeah,” the raccoon said, wrinkling her nose.  She was clad in a jumpsuit, with tiny fingerless gloves gracing her hands.  “He’s got that hoity-toity look most of ‘em got.”

“Sorry,” the MIdgardian said with a grin, “we’ve got a one Asgardian at a time policy on the ship.  Afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I can throw him out the airlock,” a blue man with cybernetic implants and a husky voice suggested.  

Another male alien with antennae and big dark eyes clapped his hands in glee.  “Can I do it?”

“What about me?” Mobius asked.  “I’m not Asgardian.”

“Where are you from?” the Midgardian woman asked.

“Earth.”  Then Mobius added: “Hoboken.”

The Midgardian woman grimaced.  “Jersey?  Yeah, he might need to go out the airlock too.”

“Hey!”

“Hold it!”  Loki held out his hands in silent command.  “I am here to see Thor.  I request an audience.”

“‘I request an audience,’” the raccoon mocked him.

“Rocket,” the Midgardian admonished her friend before turning her attention back to Loki.  “What do you want with Thora?”

Thora?  Interesting.  “I am Thor’s brother,” Loki explained.  

The aliens all looked at each other, seemingly coming to the same conclusion: they didn’t believe him.

“Funny, Quill,” Rocket said, addressing the Midgardian, “I don’t remember Thora mentioning a brother, outside of the God of Death one.”

Quill, the Midgardian, regarded Loki.  “You the God of Death?”  The smirk on her face almost made it seem like she wanted it to be the case, that she was itching for a fight.  

“No,” Loki explained, “I’m the God of Mischief.  I’m—”  He decided to lay it all out of the table lest this crew make good on their airlock threat.  “I’m from another timeline.”  

The grin slipped from Quill’s face to be replaced with a grim resignation.  “Oh god, one of these.”

The alien with the antenna placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.  He soothed her by suggesting, “We can still shoot him out of the airlock.”

“Nah,” Quill took to her feet and rolled her shoulders, “I’ll take them to Thora.  Can someone tell Draxa to be on standby?”

The antennaed alien stood as well.  “I’ll wake her from her nap.”

The blue one glared as Loki and Mobius moved past as if daring them to step out of line.

Quill waved for the Time Agents to follow her.  “Thora’s holed up in her room,” she explained.  

Mobius quickly looked up some information on the Tempad as they walked.  “Apparently these are the Guardians of the Galaxy in this timeline,” Mobius whispered.  He scrolled over some pictures, giving Loki names to faces: Rocket the raccoon, Nebula the blue one, Mantis the one with the antenna, Draxa a hulking Kylosian woman, Groot the Flora Colossus and the Midgardian, one “Star-Lord” Brandy Quill.  

Quill paused in front of a metal door, knocking with a modest tap.  “Hey, I’ve got some weirdo claiming to be your brother out here,” she said.  

A muffled feminine voice came from the other side of the door.  “My what?”

“I’ll let you guys talk.”  Quill pointed at Loki and Mobius in turn, her voice low and threatening.  “You make her cry and I’m throwing you out the airlock.”

“What is with you and the airlock?” Mobius asked.

“Piss me off and find out,” Quill said with false cheeriness.  She walked off shouting to her crew, “Put on some music, we’ll give them privacy.”   

A second later, a breezy guitar number started over the loudspeakers.

I was tired of my lady We’d been together too long

Mobius looked horrified.  “Did she, did she just Pina Colada us?”

The door to the cabin opened, revealing a giant of a blonde woman in a fluffy bathrobe.  Buff and with long flowing locks, she was a goddess in early retirement.  She stared out at Loki and Mobius with anticipation and then disappointed confusion.  “Oh, who are you two?” she asked.

“I am Loki,” Loki explained, “and I presume you are Thor?”

“Loki?”  Thora, Goddess of Thunder, frowned.  “Prove it, do something Loki-ish.”

He should have anticipated the request, especially since several variants of Loki were dead, the one in this universe might be gone as well.  He thought it over for a second and then shapeshifted, becoming a feminine version of himself with long black hair.  

To his surprise, Thora immediately enveloped him in a hug.  She was taller than him, her head rested easily on his shoulder.  “It is you,” she said.  She sounded so desperately sad that Loki felt his own heart twinge.    

“I assume I’m gone here?” Loki asked, afraid of the answer.

“Yes,” Thora said, obviously reluctant to pull away.  “Thanos killed you, I couldn’t stop her.”

Loki swallowed down his discomfort.  It seemed that certain things were the same.  “I notice your friend,” he said, trying to change the subject, “is very protective.”

“Oh, Quill?”  Thora disentangled herself, wiping at her eyes.  “She’s been kind, letting me join the Guardians.  She’s given me a home and a purpose.”  Then, as if she couldn’t stop herself, “She lets me make out with her when she’s sad.”

Mobius’s eyebrow arched all the way up to his hairline.

Thora, horrified at what she just said, grasped Loki’s shoulders and shook him.  “Do not tell her I said that.  She might not allow it again.”

Loki’s head wobbled back and forth, Thora’s strength was more than comparable to the Thor he knew.  “Are you serious?” Loki asked, somewhat disgusted.  He remembered the great beauties his brother had pursued.  This Quill was perhaps cute but worth this much energy?  Ugh, what was with Thors and Midgardians?

“Her lover had been killed by Thanos and then a version from an earlier timeline came back but he doesn’t remember her,” Thora said, explaining too quickly.  “When she gets sad about it I comfort her and–” She made a gesture that Loki simply could not interpret.

Variation or not, Loki was not going to sugarcoat his feelings on the matter.  “That is incredibly pathetic.”

The expression on Thora’s face shifted, becoming less open and friendly.  “What do you want, brother?  You did not come here to discuss my love life.”

“We’ve got a big mission,” Mobius said, uncertain how useful this version of Thor would be, “the life threatening kind but you seem to be busy–”

That changed Thora’s attitude instantly.  She perked up, like the promise of battle was a lifeblood.  “Let me get dressed.”

Although their purpose was recruitment, Mobius was still confused.  “I just said this is life threatening.”

Thora went back into her room and tossed off her robe, grabbing her clothes and armor with no regard for modesty.  “How life threatening?  Can I get injured a little?”  She was pleased as punch.  “I can have Quill play nursemaid, it would drive her crazy.”

Loki and Mobius shared a look.  “As long as she’s strong,” Loki said, under his breath, “I can overlook her–”  He tried to think of how to put it.  “Everything else.”

Thora slammed the door behind her, dressed for battle.  “Come,” she said with great enthusiasm, brandishing a mighty axe, “to glory!”  

If you like makin' love at midnight In the dunes on the cape Then I'm the love that you've looked for Write to me and escape

[steelycunt]

FINAL MIDBLOCK ESSAY DONE!! I AM FREE!!

[meat-loving-meat]

Sometimes a writing project truly is for me and only for me

[gaytobymeres]

literally need to pay someone to sit next to me and prod me into doing work when i start procrastinating. wah.

[thenightisland]

ah the age-old practice of bracing yourself to look over stuff you wrote yesterday while thinking /hmm will any of it actually be any good or is it all garbage/

[arkaylarts]

Stella Au Genchan! 💫

[hardly-an-escape]

me just now, trying to write fluff, literally muttering aloud to myself: "stop murmuring into each other's mouths for God's sake."

[nofr1lls]

DONE. can i vomit now

[heyitsme1040]

A Valentine's Rose [steddie]

summary : Every year at Hawkins High on Valentine's day, flowers were distributed. Steve realized his freshman year that he wouldn't receive a symbol of anyone's affection. He ignored this holiday every year, until his senior year. He got a rose, and never learned who sent it to him. One day when Eddie and the kids are over, Steve finds out who sent him the rose he kept all these years.

pairings : Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

warnings : literally none. This is just some really soft fluff. I mean if you squint you could view the beginning paragraph as being angsty, but that's literally it.

word count : 1.2k

AO3 (x)

a/n : I'm aware that it's October and I'm posting a Valentine's day story. I just had this little idea and couldn't get it out of my head, and I couldn't wait any longer not to post it. This is a re-upload because I forgot to add a title when I originally posted this, and Tumblr wouldn't let me add one after the fact. Sorry.

Steve felt the sting of rejection on his first Valentine’s day in high school. It was first period and roses were being handed out to students from a member of the student council. Some had notes attached from lovers, some were plain from secret admirers, and others were bundles of roses. He knew the one’s he’d paid for were being delivered with nothing attached to the girls he’d been on dates with, but it’d stung to see he hadn’t received any when the student council member left. He knew he’d already been perceived as a ladies man, but he thought maybe those dates were for something other than his good looks.

It was finally his last year in high school and Steve was trying to finish his homework. He panicked when the bell rang, but sighed in relief when the door opened and a student walked in carrying roses. He looked back down at his math textbook and prayed that whoever was handing out the roses could give him enough time to finish the last three problems. No matter how many times the student walked past him, he never spared them a second glance. Steve knew he wasn’t going to receive one, he’d accepted that fact four years ago.

He was almost finished with the last problem when a bulb of red was sat upon his textbook. His pencil stopped moving as he processed what that meant.

“Do you know who it’s from?” Steve finally looked at the student who’d passed by him so many times.

The student just shook his head as he went to pass out the last few flowers. Steve looked at the flower with a small smile. He let his eyes sweep the room in hopes of catching someone looking for his reaction. He didn’t notice anyone staring at him, but wished he knew who the flower came from. When the student passing out the roses finally left the room, Steve realized he still never finished the last problem. As the teacher gathered everyone’s work, he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the unfinished problem.

It was about ten minutes into the lesson when suddenly the door was yanked open and everyone looked over as Eddie Munson walked through the door, late as usual.

“How nice of you to finally join us Eddie,” the teacher grumbled as Eddie crossed the room to take his seat.

“So sorry to have left you in sus–,” Eddie paused as he sat down with a grin, “ –pense.”

Everyone focused back on the teacher, but Eddie’s eyes caught on the rose sat in front of Steve. He watched as the boy's eyes would drift to it ever so often; admired the way his eyes lit up and his cheeks pinkened every time they landed on the flower. Eddie couldn’t help the fondness that settled in his chest at the way his crush obviously adored the small gift he sent.

“Henderson, don’t you dare,” Eddie laughed as Dustin circled him.

Steve watched with a fond smile as the two were wrestling by the pool. The doorbell rang, so he walked through the house to get the pizzas he’d ordered. On his way back outside, he heard a loud splash followed by Dustin’s uncontrollable laughter. Steve set the boxes onto the counter and rushed outside just in time to see Eddie making his way out of the pool.

“Seriously, Dustin? I don’t have any other clothes, dude,” Eddie huffed.

Steve paused in the doorway, looking at Eddie. He was trying to wring out as much water as possible from his hair, but quickly gave up and just put it in a bun. Steve couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks from seeing Eddie no longer hidden behind his hair.

“Pizza’s here,” Steve called out, moving out of the way as all the kids rushed past him.

As all the kids ran toward the kitchen, Eddie began to squeeze some of the water out of his shirt. Steve walked over with a towel and held his breath as Eddie took the offered fabric. He released the breath in a fond chuckle because of how Eddie had wrapped himself in the towel like one of the kids would with a blanket.

“C’mon, Eddie. I’ll grab you some clothes to change into,” Steve turned to go back inside and prayed the heat in his cheeks would be gone by the time he got to his room. He didn’t have to worry about whether or not Eddie was following him, he could hear the clinking of the other’s wallet chain from behind him. Once in his room, Steve began pulling open drawers and grabbing clothes he knew were too big for the slim man in his doorway.

“I’m sorry these are going to be big on you,” Steve started as he tossed a pair of sweatpants onto his bed, “but they’re dry and soft. You can also take a shower if you want, get the chlorine off,” he continued as he grabbed a dark green long sleeve out his closet.

Eddie finally found the courage to step into the room, slowly walking toward Steve’s bed. He stared at the bedside table, smiling gently at the dried rose sat in an old Coca-Cola bottle. He freed his hand from the towel and brought a finger to be just barely touching the old gesture he’d made.

“I grabbed a pair of underwear, but do you want socks?” Steve turned from where he’d stood by his dresser once again, freezing when he saw Eddie lightly touching the fragile flower. “Could you– uh, please don’t mess with that. I don’t want it to fall apart, it’s from–”

Eddie removed his finger from the wilted petal, bewildered. “You kept it?”

“What?”

“You kept the rose. From our senior year together, you kept my rose?” Eddie couldn’t hide his confusion nor the smile that tugged at his cheeks.

“You– Wait– Why?”

Eddie took a tentative step towards Steve, “It was the only way I could back then. I felt stupid having a crush on you when we were in school, so I waited for a chance to do something you wouldn’t be able to figure out who it was from. I thought you would get so many that you wouldn’t notice mine, but when I walked in you just had it. And you would look at it throughout class and smile so fondly I knew how much it mattered to you.”

Steve strode toward Eddie, and Eddie tensed. He thought he’d made a mistake, misread every moment they’d had together since fighting Vecna. But Steve just grabbed him by the waist and pulled himself into Eddie’s chest, not caring the other was slowly making his clothes wet as well. Eddie dropped the towel as he wrapped his own arms around Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m glad it was you,” Steve whispered. “It’s been you since the boathouse.”

“It’s always been you,” Eddie squeezed Steve a little tighter, glad they felt the same.

“It was only ever you,” Steve admitted. “I had no idea that you were it back then, but I knew whoever gave that flower to me was it. It was the only one I’d received all of highschool, and I’m glad now that it was you.”

Eddie made sure to always give Steve a flower after that, hoping to make up for the lost time. Steve made sure he always took care of the flowers and saved every one of them.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[oh-look-car-horns]

Wondering what boop count your 3 letter word corresponds to? I gotchu:

Using a python script I wrote, I booped myself 50,000 times, saving an image of my boop-o-meter every 500 boops. Before we get into the results, there are two important limitations to this study that I should mention:

Firstly, because I only recorded the boop-o-meter every 500 boops, if a message appeared for less than 500 boops it may not have been caught.

Secondly, every now and then my computer would lose a boop or two when a click wouldn't register. This is seen in the 500 and 1000 boop images below, which in reality read 498 and 994 respectively. Because of this, boop values are slightly lower than they appear.

With that out of the way, lets dig in.

0-999:

From boops 0-999, the boop-o-meter displays your boop count, and changes color as you boop

Boop count: 0 Boop count: 500 Boop count: 1000

Boop fact: the colors do not change after 1000

LOL:

Between boops 1000 and 1500, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'LOL'. This likely took place at 1000 boops, but maybe it said 'MAX' or sumn for awhile at first? Idk this is already the misinformation website so not my problem.

Boop count: 1500 (actually more like 1490 ish)

More results below the cut

OMG:

Between 1500 and 2000, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'OMG'. Again, this probably happened at 1500 but who knows. Maybe staff made it 1523 for the bit or something.

Boop count: ~2000

WOW:

The boop-o-meter remained at omg until the 3500 boop readpoint, when it switched to 'WOW', meaning this transition happens somewhere between ~2980 and ~3480.

Boop count: ~3500

Boop fact: 'WOW' is the second longest reigning message

*-*:

Between 5000 and 5500 the boop-o-meter switched to '*-*'. You get the idea at this point so I'll speed it up.

Boop count: ~5500

WHY:

The boop-o-meter changed to 'WHY' between 6000 and 6500 boops. For science. That's why.

Boop count: ~6500

PLZ:

Next was 'PLZ', switching between 7000 and 7500.

Boop count: ~7500

AAA:

I'm not sure what bloody urine has to do with anything, but for some reason staff felt is was important to display, switching between 7500 and 8000.

Boop count: ~8000

;_;:

Huh the colon makes that one look weird. 8000-8500.

Boop count: ~8500

Boop fact: That fucking cat haunts me in my dreams

0_0:

I realized after I set my pyautogui script running that my computer wouldn't turn off its screen because of the clicking, so there was a strobing blue light in my room all night. This encapsulated my expression while trying to sleep (8500-9000).

Boop count: ~9000

MAX:

After 9000 it displayed 'MAX'. This was cap. (9000-9500 switch).

Boop count: OVER 9000 (9500)

<33:

I miss my wife. 9500-10,000.

Boop count ~10,000

TUM BLR:

THE HOLY GRAIL. The boop-o-meter switched to displaying 'TUM BLR' between 10,000 and 10,500 boops. Because my actual boop count was slightly behind my theoretical, I'd guess that this change happened at 10,000 boops.

Boop count: ~10,500 (likely switched at 10,000)

Summary:

When charted the boop curve looks as follows:

Boop curve: 0 - 10,000 boops

My script continued to run until 53,000 boops, but no further changes were observed. Again, there were quite possibly more messages at lower boop values, but my ass is not checking. Maybe I should have scaled my sampling accordingly, but it is what it is. Thank you for joining me on this journey, and if you have any corrections or more information, please add it to this post.

Boop fact: Terfs DNI

[emjaydoubleyou]

my french instructor is a shockingly good looking woman

[joemerl]

Writer's Month 2023 Masterpost

Day 1: word: blossom | setting/AU: on an island

Original fiction (Arthurian adaptation), complete, 524 words.

Day 2: word: perfume | setting/AU: camping AU

Original fiction ("the Werewolf WIP"), complete, 396 words.

Day 3: word: seashell | setting/AU: at a festival

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 406 words.

Day 4: word: memories | setting/AU: underwater AU

Original fiction (Arthurian adaptation), complete, 464 words.

Day 5: word: sun | setting/AU: poolside

Animorphs fanfic, complete, 394 words.

Day 6: word: surf | setting/AU: backpacking AU

Original fiction (sci-fi/horror), complete, 974 words.

Day 7: word: vacation | setting/AU: in the mountains

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 320 words.

Day 8: word: watermelon | setting/AU: fishing AU

Original fiction ("the Werewolf WIP"), complete, 612 words.

Day 9: word: warmth | setting/AU: home for the summer

Harry Potter fanfic, complete, 1,012 words.

Day 10: word: sandcastle | setting/AU: lifeguard AU

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 612 words.

Day 11: word: sweat | setting/AU: on a roadtrip

The Lunar Chronicles fanfic, complete, 270 words.

Day 12: word: lemonade | setting/AU: band AU

Invader Zim fanfic, complete, 360 words.

Day 13: word: fan | setting/AU: cruise ship

Original fiction ("the Superhero WIP"), complete, 229 words.

Day 14: word: bonfire | setting/AU: vacation fling

Harry Potter fanfiction, incomplete, 458 words.

Day 15: word: blue | setting/AU: neighborhood barbecue

Invader Zim fanfic, complete, 410 words.

Day 16: word: energy | setting/AU: tourist AU

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 381 words.

Day 17: word: waves | setting/AU: at a wedding

Original fiction (Arthurian adaptation), complete, 442 words.

Day 18: word: free | setting/AU: restaurant AU

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 609 words.

Day 19: word: cloud | setting/AU: at a party

Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic, complete, 490 words.

Day 20: word: fireworks | setting/AU: different first meeting

Batman fanfic, complete, 426 words.

Day 21: word: hammock | setting/AU: at a bar

Batman fanfic, complete, 455 words.

Day 22: word: sunscreen | setting/AU: human/non-human AU

Batman fanfic, incomplete, 502 words.

Day 23: word: storm | setting/AU: in the woods

Original fiction ("the Werewolf WIP"), complete, 296 words.

Day 24: word: summer | setting/AU: different powers AU

Young Justice fanfic, complete, 274 words.

Day 25: word: relax | setting/AU: at a concert

Original fiction ("the Werewolf WIP"), complete, 311 words.

Day 26: word: found | setting/AU: online dating AU

Harry Potter fanfic, complete, 519 words.

Day 27: word: volleyball | setting/AU: at the beach

Original fiction ("the Fairy/Changeling WIP"), complete, 354 words.

Day 28: word: bright | setting/AU: mythological AU

Original fiction (Classical mythology adaptation), complete, 824 words.

Day 29: word: fireflies | setting/AU: at a cabin

Daria fanfic, complete, 303 words.

Day 30: word: happy | setting/AU: kid story/children AU

Original fiction ("Cinderella/Ashenputtel" adaptation), complete, 401 words.

Day 31: word: fall | setting/AU: at a hotel

Original fiction ("the Superhero WIP"), complete, 503 words.

____________________________________________________

Total word count: 14,531

Original fiction: 18

 Fanfiction: 13

Complete: 29

Incomplete: 2

[ao3commentoftheday]

Idk if this is too broad of a scope for this blog, but if you could answer this, it'd be great.

I've been in a writing rut since I started getting serious about writing, and I've identified the issue in the past month or so: I slant heavily on the gardener end of the writing spectrum and all the advice on writing I've ever seen was for architect-style writing. Not once in the eight years I've been serious about writing did I find any guides on gardener-style writing (and if it says it's gardener-style, it'sreally just architect-style with gardner aspects), and my experience has just been more or less jamming a square peg into a circle hole, getting nothing written and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm unlearning all the architect-style habits that are destructive to me as a writer, but I can't find any resources for gardeners aside from Stephen King's On Writing. If you or any of your followers know how to help a gardener's writing, that would be great. I have so many fic ideas I want to write, but can't since I'm learning to write all over again.

For those who don't know what gardener and architect refer to when it comes to writers, a gardener is a writer who starts with the seed of an idea and lets it grow in whatever direction the light shines. They prune it and weed it as they go but otherwise let the idea lead the way. An architect, on the other hand, plans their stories out first and then writes them. They have a structure and the details all mapped out first and then the writing is just executing on that vision.

As a gardener myself, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid writing advice. Like you've said, the majority of it is aimed at people who do things like plan and plot and worldbuild ahead of time. Because of the structure that that writing style enjoys, providing "one size fits most" writing advice works well for it.

I tend to find a lot of that advice to be counter to what I need to do. Planning a story out ahead just makes me feel like it's already written. Building out the world before I start writing it feels like a hollow exercise - more like writing an encyclopedia than developing a land and culture for my characters to inhabit.

What I find useful is taking an episodic approach to writing. The entire story will be like a season of a television show and each chapter is like one episode. I always have my eventual "season finale" end goal in mind, but any particular chapter can meander closer to or further from that goal. It's alright to take a circuitous route, as long as I get to my destination in the end.

It's also alright if my destination changes as I'm writing. Sometimes those meandering paths take me in a more interesting direction than I was originally going down, and that shifts the story. As long as you're vaguely following a three-act structure (or 5 act or 7 act), the flow of it will feel familiar to your readers and they probably won't really notice it happening.

This advice I'm giving might not ring true to you either. You didn't have a specific problem to address, so I've been wandering a bit in my reply. Really what it comes down to is paying attention to yourself and your needs. Figure out what it is that keeps you writing and what it is that makes you stop. Do more of the former and less of the latter - and don't worry if what you're doing is "weird" to someone else.

I write directly into the AO3 window (which AO3 specifically tells you NOT to do, btw) because drafting first in google docs or something takes the fun out of it for me. I post my chapters without previewing them first. I write in 800 to 1500 word sprints, and I focus on dialogue, and I almost always try to end on a joke or a pun or a cliffhanger. These are all things that make writing an activity that I want to do.

I can't really say anything much more specific given your ask, but I hope something in here was helpful. Let's see if any gardeners out there have some resources or advice that might work for you.