#now I’m writing fanfiction to cope

[bespokegarbage]

Ooh looks like my flight might actually leave!

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Tumblr is about to make me slam myself against a steel wall.

[cinewhore]

Posted a tiktok about me writing smut and all the girlies are assembling so exposure/rejection therapy is going great thanks for asking

[poppitron360]

I’m trying to branch out from my usual angst by writing a happy(ish) fic.

Summary: Jason goes back to Camp Jupiter after the war and reveals that he and Leo are dating. He struggles so deal with the backlash from that while simultaneously having to cope with being long-distance.

CW: Swearing, Octavian

Word Count: 2,423

VALGRACE FANFICTION- “Fuck ‘em”

When Jason had announced to Camp Jupiter that he was seeing someone, he wasn’t sure what had been more appalling. That the someone in question was a boy, or that he was Greek.

Octavian had, of course, been outraged on both accounts: “We let a man like this become Praetor! He is fraternising with the enemy in a very un-Roman-like fashion!”

That’s what he called it. “Un-Roman”- like for some reason Jason was any less Roman because he was bisexual.

But it wasn’t just Octavian spouting bullshit. There was a shift in the way people acted under his command- they seemed less trusting, like Jason had become some foreign invader. Even though he had stepped down as Praetor and given his powers to Frank, he still held the newly-created title of “honorary Praetor”, alongside Percy, to commemorate all the work he had done defeating Gaia. People should still listen to him, respect him. But it was different now. His boyfriend was a Greek.

He didn’t dare tell them it was the same Greek that had fired on New Rome, albeit under the influence of evil spirits.

Some of them had been supportive, especially those in the fifth cohort. They were used to being outcasts.

“Children of Vul- I mean, Hephaestus, though?” His friend, Dakota, had said, “They’re good to have around. Large, beefy, big muscles. Good fit for a son of Jupiter like you.”

Jason laughed nervously, “Uh-huh. Yeah… large… muscles… right.”

Oh my gods, Praetor Grace had a twink. That was another thing he didn’t dare tell them. He let them imagine their leader with a powerful hunk for a boyfriend- at least that way he could keep some dignity.

He felt bad being embarrassed by Leo. He was awesome. He had a badass flying dragon. He told cool jokes and made Jason laugh. Jason was proud to call him his boyfriend. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself every morning. Then he’d step outside, and be faced with the weird looks and behind-the-hand whispers, and suddenly he didn’t feel so proud. He didn’t hold it against Leo, though. He loved how the kid acted so unapologetically himself- unlike Jason, who needed everyone to like him so much.

Jason didn’t care about the stares when he was with him. The asshole comments from Octavian seemed like distant memories when he looked into those big, dark eyes, complete with the playful little twinkle and mischievous smile. But when he was without Leo, he was a nervous wreck. The only thing that kept him going were Leo’s monthly visits. That was the one thing they couldn’t take away from him. He counted the days in his head to when he was gonna see him again. When Octavian was being shitty, he’d just think “twenty more days”, “ten more days”, “five more days”, “one more day”.

He met Leo and Festus outside the New Rome border. He picked the tiny guy up in his arms and twirled him around, and then kissed him. Leo’s skin was warm to the touch, like it always was when he was nervous.

“I missed you so much,” Jason whispered, although there was no-one around to overhear.

“I missed you too, Sparky. Camp isn’t the same without you.”

“Are they treating you well there? Anyone still giving you shit for your powers?”

“I’m fine Jason, everyone’s super nice,” Leo replied, although Jason could tell it was probably exaggerated. Not a lie- just a projection. What Jason wanted to hear. He decided not to call him out on it- Leo just didn’t want Jason to worry, that’s all.

“You’ve not been spending too much time in the workshop, I hope? Actually go outside once in a while.”

“I’m outside now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You worry too much,” Leo said, standing on his tiptoes to kiss him.

But Leo had worries of his own. They talked causally for a while, before Leo interrupted him with a question that Jason had been dreading.

“Why do you always ask me to meet you outside the border?” Leo asked.

Jason had a pre-planned response for this, “I just wanna keep you separate from my work. At Camp, I’m a leader. A soldier. Praetor Grace. With you, I can be myself. I can be Jason. I want it to stay that way.”

Leo’s eyes held so many different emotions, it was hard for Jason to tell what one was most prominent- sadness, resolution, hope- Jason had spent many hours searching those eyes for the secrets that they contained, and he still had not found them all. Leo sighed.

“They… they don’t know about me, do they?”

Jason hesitated- but he couldn’t lie to Leo.

“They know I’m dating a son of Hephaestus… they don’t know it was the same son of Hephaestus that fired on New Rome,” he admitted.

“You’re embarrassed.”

“No, I’m not!” Jason said, which wasn’t entirely true.

“You are! You’re worried about being seen with me! That’s why you meet me out here- you don’t want people to know you have a dangerous freak for a boyfriend. Praetor Grace and the scrappy little street rat he took pity on,” Leo looked down and kicked the dirt.

“I think you’re a pretty cute street rat,” Jason said, ruffling Leo’s messy, greasy hair. Then his smile turned serious, “Leo, I don’t want you to think that I think of you that way. I’m not embarrassed by you, it’s just…” he looked at the sky and sighed, “There’s a lot of expectations that I have to live up to. And when I’m with you I get to say “fuck ‘em”, but when I’m there…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Leo said. He looked up at Jason with those big, busy eyes- drawing ordinance survey maps of Jason’s face in his mind, “I really do, Jason. I understand feeling like you need to be someone else to get people to like you. I get it.”

Jason smiled and hugged him.

“We can stay like this. You don’t have to let me inside the border. We can just say “fuck ‘em” out here,” Leo mumbled, his voice muffled in the fabric of Jason’s hoodie.

“One day,” Jason assured him, “One day I wanna say “fuck ‘em” to their faces. There’s a really nice café in New Rome I wanna take you to.“

“But we don’t have to say “fuck ‘em” today.”

“No.”

His time with Leo came and went. Jason went back to his duties, to the stares and the whispers.

He sat on the lunch table with the rest of the fifth cohort, chatting idly about the local gossip.

“Heard we got some exchange students from Camp Half-Blood,” one of them remarked, “Because we’re doing that now, apparently.”

“They have all these freaky little behaviours- it’s not sitting right with the other cohorts.”

“Yeah, Greeks are weird,” Jason remarked, leaning back in his chair, “And I should know- I’m in love with one.”

The whole table went quiet. Jason seemed to realise what he’d just said.

“Oh,” was all he could manage in response.

Dakota broke the silence, “Man, I thought you were just his sugar daddy, I didn’t know you guys were actually in love!”

“I-I didn’t know either, ‘til I just said it,” Jason stuttered, still in shock, “But… yeah. Yeah, I love him.”

“So when do we get to meet him?” One of the other members of the fifth asked.

“Well,” Jason leaned forward, contemplating, “He comes to visit me every month. He’s coming again in thirteen days. I could…”

He looked around the dining hall. He took in the sneers as people caught his eye. The whispers and snickers and pointing. He realised that that would never change. As long as he was open about who he was, there would always be backlash. The only thing he could do was to not let it get to him. To say “fuck ‘em”. And as terrifying a prospect as that was, Jason was ready. He was ready to rise above the snide remarks and disrespect and yell “I’m in love with Leo Valdez!”

Because he was. He loved that tiny imp of a kid. He loved his loud mouth and weird quirks. He loved how Leo would hold his hand and tap out little morse code messages that Jason didn’t understand, but would speculate for days what they meant. He could look it up, or ask Annabeth, but he loved to fantasise.

Leo was leaning against Festus in their usual spot outside the border. When Jason saw him, he tackled him with such force that Leo’s hair caught fire in surprise. Luckily, Jason pulled away before it could burn him.

“You’re in a good mood,” Leo observed, patting out the flames on his head.

“Yeah, well… I’ve decided,” Jason told him, “I’m ready. I wanna take you inside the border.”

Leo stopped fussing with his hair and looked up at Jason, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Jason assured him, holding out his hand, “Come on!”

Leo grinned and took Jason’s hand. A little spark of electricity ran along Jason’s spine. He took off for the city, pulling Leo behind him. Leo was giggling in that cute way he did when he got exited and thought no-one could hear him. They ran like the wind- literally. As Jason yanked him along, he summoned the winds to push them faster, lifting them up into the air slightly. They were inside New Rome now, Jason dragging him through winding streets and bustling crowds. Jason felt truly free, running along with Leo. He was overjoyed. For once, he didn’t care about expectations or who he should be. They were just two kids having fun.

They stopped outside a sidewalk café with Romanesque architecture, like the rest of the city. There was one of those classic red-and-white-striped awnings over the front, and clusters of tables and chairs littered the pavement outside.

“Lunch?” Jason asked, turning to Leo, “They do paninis and toasted sandwiches.”

“I would kill for a panini right now.”

“What about drinks?”

“Diet coke?”

“Gods, no. You’re not having any more caffeine, Mr Hyper. I’ll get you a lime soda,” the conversation was dull and mundane, but Jason found it comforting. They had spent so much of their time together with the weight of the world resting on their shoulders. Now that that was finally over (and Jason rapped on the wooden café table at the thought, praying he wouldn’t jinx it), they could finally settle into a monotonous rhythm, like and old married couple.

Wow. That image took him by surprise- him and Leo growing old together- but it was a good sort of surprise. Jason didn’t push the thought away, instead, he let it wash over him, clinging to the notion that they had hope. A future in the making.

Lunch was going awesome- until Octavian showed up.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Praetor Grace- sorry, former Praetor Grace.”

“Honorary Praetor,” Jason corrected, not looking up from the menu he was reading, “Still ranked above you, Octavian, so a position you should treat with respect.”

Jason didn’t bother looking up to see Octavian’s reaction. He continued to ignore the kid, until he saw him turn to face Leo.

“Hey! Isn’t that the Greek Scum who destroyed half the city?!” He yelled, “Guards! Guards!”

“Octavian, no,” Jason commanded, looking him directly in the eyes, “I saw to it that Leo was pardoned. That incident was not through his actions.”

“It very much looked like it was through his actions, from where I was standing!” Octavian replied, angrily.

Jason stood up. He grabbed Leo’s hand, partially for reassurance, partially as a way of telling Octavian to suck on a cavalry sword- a way of saying “Fuck ‘em”.

“Oh… oh my gods! That is your little pet?!” He pointed at Leo like he was a disgusting patch of mould.

“Uh-huh. And what’re you gonna do about it, Octavian? Run and tell? I am fucking fine with everyone knowing. In fact-“ Jason leapt up onto the café table, still holding onto Leo’s hand, “Listen up, motherfuckers!”

“Jason, what’re you-“

Jason squeezed Leo’s hand to reassure him and Leo stopped protesting, but he still looked worried.

“I’m in love with Leo Valdez!” Jason yelled, “He’s tiny and Greek and he’s awesome. You motherfuckers might look down on him. You might think he’s dangerous, or that he’s a freak. But I see how awesome he is. And sweet. And badass. And cute. And funny. And none of you-“ he pointed a finger at the crowd of passers-by, who were giving him annoyed and disgruntled looks, “Get to say a fucking WORD against him!” He turned towards Octavian, looking down at him and jabbing a finger in his face, “Especially a slimy little piece of shit like you, Octavian.” Jason jumped down from the table, reclined in his seat, picked up the menu, and studied it with his glasses at the end of his nose much like how an old man would study a newspaper.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.”

Octavian scoffed, and left.

“Jason…” Leo was staring at him with those eyes of many feelings. Jason counted wonder, shock, horror, pride, lust, reverence and a seventh emotion he couldn’t quite describe.

“I’m sorry if that was too… loud, Leo. I don’t wanna make you feel-“

“Y-You’re in love with me?”

“…Yeah. Yes. I am,” Jason searched for what emotion was the brightest in those eyes, but there were too many and it was too confusing. He could never pick just one, “Is it too soon? Should I have waited? Should I have asked you first before yelling it in the street-“

“No! No, it’s fine. It’s… amazing, actually. And I love you too, Jason, I really do.”

Jason squeezed Leo’s hand again. Now that Leo had said it, Jason saw the love surface above the mess of other feelings in those eyes. He saw it bud and bloom like blossoms in springtime across Leo’s fiery irises. He wanted to get lost in those meadows of brown and gold, and when Leo closed those eyes to lean in to kiss him, Jason was slightly crestfallen at the fact that he couldn’t keep staring at them. Soon, though, Leo’s lips were against his, and his disappointment melted away. He had plenty of time to stare into those eyes later. They had their whole future ahead of them, and nobody was gonna stand in their way.

[mal3vol3nt]

https://www.tumblr.com/longing-for-rain/755847912227028992/here-we-observe-the-aang-boymom-in-its-natural?source=share

Hi! I'm curious on your thoughts of this meta.

hi anon! so sorry for keeping you waiting with this response, i know it’s been months. unfortunately this probably isn’t gonna be the response you wanted to hear—me breaking down this zk brainrot rant and subverting their claims with canon content. please allow me to explain though (this is gonna be long sorry):

the reasons i’ve been slow to answer this ask and others that have sent me zk rants are:

since joining atla twitter (@arrsapphics if you’re cool) i’ve been exposed to a lot more zk coke-fueled rants and just do not have the energy to torture myself by willingly reading their shit

a lot of these zutara stans on tumblr are a lot more deranged and genuinely horrible people now that i’ve been exposed to the twitter zks. of course, zks are stupid and ship-obsessed on every platform and some of them (one in particular comes to mind—if you’re on twitter then you know) are genuinely just as bad, but i feel the ones on here have a special type of hatred considering they can tag their posts to ensure their hate stays within the echo chamber

CONTENT WARNING: RAP3

the second reason is the biggest part of why i will no longer entertain posts from longing-for-rain. i have recently found out via twitter that they write rape fanfiction of katara. being a chronically online shipper is one thing but to write fanfic of katara being raped so that zuko can save her is truly where i have to disengage. they have also posted rants of them analyzing katara’s body in the show, measuring the size of her breasts and hips to support the delusions in their head about this 14 year old girl. i truly cannot engage with this person’s rants as if they’re just regular shipping war bullshit. this person is a sick individual who not only projects onto a 14 year old brown indigenous character but also sexualizes and adultifies her

for these reasons, i refuse to read a rant posted by her and other big zk blogs on this app. people who take their obvious fetishes and racism and project them onto underaged asian and indigenous characters have gained too much attention from me on this blog. i can’t continue reading rants from these people and analyzing them because i know these people are not treating this show and its characters under an appropriate lens and arguing with their points will do absolutely nothing but enrage me, other people in the ka fandom, and fuel their delusions with our anger as “proof” their arguments hold any weight. on twitter, i’ll continue interacting with what comes up on my tl from my atla moots and if that includes shitting on a deranged zk then fine. but on tumblr i refuse to engage, especially since this app has a tagging system that i use religiously

and i would like to encourage anyone who reads this to also refuse to take this person’s rants seriously and look at them as nothing more than cope-hatred by a sick individual with sick fantasies and thoughts about these minor characters. of course, if you choose to still engage then i won’t stop you and will probably like and reblog your posts 😭

i will just no longer willingly click on links to their rants and subject myself to their bullshit. however, if you’d like for me to argue against zk claims then you are more than welcome to send me a summary of what they’ve said and i’ll do my best to organize a response! i absolutely do not want to discourage anyone from sending me asks because i truly do enjoy answering yalls questions and i love knowing that people like hearing what i have to say on these things lol. please, send me asks about anything and everything! just please understand that i won’t be clicking any links to their posts and blogs or be entertaining anything that comes from the three main delusional zk blogs 🙏

i hope this has made sense and again, i’m sorry anon for taking so long to answer this ask and for not giving the expected response 🫶

[lebbys-world]

Girls Night

Class 1-A Girls + fem!reader; platonic/best friends relationship, fluff, childhood nostalgia, mentions of growing up (thematically), sleepover clichés !!

notes: ive been listening to a lot of those mha youtube playlists recently? and they’ve been getting me in the mood for some fluffy friendship clichés !! wishing my friends would do this kinda stuff with me fr, but we’ll cope thru some self-indulgent fanfiction instead :’)

heres the playlist i was listening to while writing this -> https://youtu.be/C8-H_hBd2rY?si=6Kjg5temq2wCsv_R

You sat in the common room of the dorms, your favorite pair of pj pants adorning your legs.

The commons were currently booming with laughter and music, chatter bouncing from wall to wall.

With UA having finally decided to give you hero students a “rest week,” the class 1-A girls (more specifically, Mina) deemed it essential to have a sleepover at least one of the nights.

So, here you were, embracing the loving chaos around you.

You leaned forward on the couch, reaching with one hand to try and grab your phone, but were yanked back by the invisible girl trying to finish doing your hair.

“Y/N, I told you to SIT. STILL.” Tohru said, poking your back jokingly.

“Fine, fine,” you whined, resuming your position against the couch, a smile forming on your face. “I was just trying to check something real quick-”

“You can check it later!” Mina shouted, “Now's our time to have fun! And we better be enjoying it to the fullest after all that arguing I had to do with Aizawa-sensei!”

Through her shouts, you can see her dancing to the soundtrack you’d all contributed to.

Although everyone wanted to pitch-in with some of their favorites, Kyouka inevitably had the last say in what would make it to the final product.

And, at least to you, she’d done a pretty good job.

The songs blaring were all nostalgia-ridden, upbeat, and reminded you of some distant childhood memory that you couldn't quite recall.

As you watched Mina dance to her heart's content across the room, you thought for a moment that you could almost see a shadow of your younger self dancing along with her to these songs.

Sitting on the ground below you, leaning against the couch, Momo laughed at Mina’s antics while carefully touching up the polish on Ochaco’s nails.

“I’m sure Aizawa-sensei doesn’t mind our little party, as long as we clean up properly in the morning.”

“Maybe we could convince the boys to clean up for us,” you joked.

“No way!” Ochaco giggled back. “I can imagine Bakugo’s screams already.”

You could imagine the blonde busting out his lungs before you even finished asking your question to him,

“Maybe we just don't ask him,” you suggest.

Suddenly the weight on the couch shifted, as Mina plopped down beside you, grabbing a sip of water before adding to the conversation.

“Trust me, I don't think any of those boys will help out voluntarily.”

The topic carried on as you girls debated who, out of the 1-A boys, would be kind enough to help you clean up come morning.

Although some decisions were unanimous, several times a few of you would get into mock-arguments, standing up for your "knowledge" of your peers.

As things between Kyouka and Mina were getting intense over whether or not Kaminari would help, the sweet smell of delicious food suddenly came wafting towards the group.

You looked over at the hall to see Tsu standing there, returning from her earlier escapade to the kitchen.

“I thought we were missing some snacks, so I made what I could. Ribbit.” Tsu chimed, holding a tray filled with an assortment of you girls’ favorite treats.

“TSU- YOU. ARE. THE. BEST!” Tohru squealed, releasing her death grip on your hair.

You saw her onesie race towards the snacks instantaneously , and took that as a sign that your new up-do was likely complete - for now, at least.

With all your mouths full of laughter, messed up song lyrics, and half-eaten snacks, the night carried on until sleep eventually caught up to you all one by one.

As you finally flopped onto the couch, eyes fluttering asleep, you found yourself grateful for the night you'd had.

This is what little-Y/N always dreamt of. Thank you, my best friends.. for making this dream of hers come true.

That night, you went into your night of dreams with a smile on your face, and with a little girl watching you from a distance, smiling and over you from afar.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[seakicker]

I’ve been writing for about ten years privately and publicly and across multiple different websites, fandoms, and eras of favorite characters. I first started writing fanfiction physically in notebooks I stashed under my bed since I didn’t own my own laptop until I was 18, lol. I had originally started writing as a means to cope with feeling like The Ugly Kid because I never had a serious relationship in my pre-teen and teenage years. I was always on the chubby side and, given fanfiction’s tendency to depict readers as extremely thin and physically much smaller than the character in question, I sought to make my own stuff that would, hopefully, alleviate some insecurities and give a place to people who felt similarly to me as a kid. Well, I also started writing because I was horny and hormonal and just wanted to fuck pixels, but that much goes without saying. 

I don’t think writing has much of a place in my current life for a variety of reasons and, despite what I said the other day, I don’t see it being a part of my future and I’m okay with that! It’s a hobby that has served me very, very well for nearly ten years (roughly half of my life now since I’m 22)— I’ve learned to like myself so much more than I ever thought I would have as a teenager, I’ve opened myself up to different ways to express myself and my sexuality, I’ve met a lot of really cool people, and I think I’ve been able to help other people out quite a bit, too. I always worry about coming off as overly pretentious or self-righteous when I talk about helping people through the power of porn fanfiction, but when I’ve received so many messages over the years about how I’ve helped other plus size people learn to feel a little more secure or how I’ve helped people feel less guilty about masturbating and enjoying sex, I think it’s a fair statement to make. I’ve had tons and tons and tons of good times as a writer, but I think reading these messages about helping other people are absolutely my favorite times to look back on. It makes me feel really good. 

I’m in a completely different stage of my life now compared to when I first started writing and I don’t think the hobby appeals to me much anymore. I do think the tumblr game of notes and numbers and interactions has stressed me out some, but it’s by no means my main motivation to hang up my hat and move on to a new era of my life. I don’t care about getting a bazillion notes or a million followers, I just like to be a slut online and help other people feel good about themselves in the process, but any person who makes content will be the first to tell you that it does hurt at least a little when you make something you’re insanely proud of and it gets an amount of likes/reblogs/kudos/comments/etc you find disproportionate to your follower count or subscriber count. Nevertheless, I try not to focus on numbers too much and, while I’m somewhat successful at that, I and many other writers and artists do feel that tumblr has a major problem with interaction, reblogs vs likes, and engagement and tumblr staff’s own decisions to introduce things like community labels certainly don’t help. 

As I said, numbers are not my main inspiration to quit. I’ve experienced near endless burnout since about January of this year where none of my ideas feel unique and original, none of them excite me, and nearly all of them make me worry that other people won’t enjoy them. It’s hard to want to write when you don’t feel like you’re making anything good, and, as I’m sure you all have noticed, I’ve taken a lot of breaks this year to hopefully get myself back in the swing of things, but I never return feeling refreshed and excited by new ideas, so that was the biggest indication to me that I’ve simply grown out of another hobby and I’m a changing person with changing interests and desires, and that’s okay! I’m emerging into a new stage of adulthood after graduating college and beginning to move out of my parents’ house, and so a shift in my hobbies and likes is to be expected. I had a conversation with another writing friend of mine who gave up writing publicly about six months ago, and my feelings sounded a lot like his, so that also suggested to me that I’m just ready to be done. 

I’m infinitely thankful to everyone who’s ever been a part of my writing journey, whether you reblogged a fic once or were a regular emoji anon who stopped in frequently. I really cherish the memories I’ve made and I was always insanely excited to see people claim new emojis, see regulars in my inbox talking to me, and read nice comments and messages. When I say that writing has been a pivotal part of my life for a decade now, I mean that in so many ways, especially in the way that it has brought so many cool and nice people to me. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve said and done things that hurt other people, and I’m grateful for the forgiveness and reconciliation others have given me just as I am thankful for all the people who have supported me throughout my online presence. 

I do feel guilty about leaving, but you guys deserve a proper goodbye instead of me putting my blog on hiatus again and just leaving it there to sit. I’d like to formally leave instead of just going dormant or disappearing, and this is that formal departure. I’ve had thoughts of quitting in the past, but those were when I was already feeling upset with other things in my life so I knew they weren’t real, but I’ve been thinking about this consistently for about four months now in clear mindsets and headspaces so I know it’s a little more real. I put myself on hiatus this last month to really think about it and, while it’s natural to go back and forth on such a decision and try to talk myself out of it, I really am ready and I don’t feel like I need to convince myself to stay when I’m not happy with my content. I owe you guys regularity and consistency, and I’ve failed to be a consistent writer or poster these past few months or so, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve talked about it a lot with my boyfriend and my close friends, and I feel it’s best for me to move on now and try some new things! I’m excited for this next stage of my life as I seek out a new career, look to move in with my boyfriend and get out of my parents’ place, and maybe get engaged too ☺️ 

My tumblr and AO3 will remain up with the same usernames and whatnot. I can’t even thank you guys enough for everything you’ve given me in the past years. I’m happy to call you guys friends and the “parasocial BAD!!!!!” debate that pops up in fandom circles needs to stfu because building a friendship with your audience and allowing yourself to be human with human feelings instead of some blank figure behind a screen is literally normal, lol. When people say nice things to you, it’s normal for it to feel good. When people say rude things to you, it’s normal for it to feel bad. 

Thank you for 10 years of love and thank you for reading! 

💛💛 Juju

ps think of me whenever you see pregnancy

[boydepartment]

i have something to say and idk if it’s controversial or not. noncon/dubcon mentioned

i’ve had to block a few ppl in the enhypen tag like just #enhypen or #riki or #riki x reader . because of how much

noncon/dubcon riki stuff is in the predominately sfw tags.

i do not personally agree with that little community who writes sm-t for him bc all of them have this ego complex of “i’m just better bc i don’t care >:(“ no, you have a really irresponsible and immature mindset when it comes to conflict. just because you “don’t care” doesn’t make you a good person or better than people who tell you to c-t yourself or d-e. it’s even worse if you’re like “i know i’m not a good person >:)” like okaaaay joker go rob a bank or something then.

back to the point- it’s to the grey area of time now where you can’t really stop them now anyways because it’s down to personal preference and their comfort of writing for him that way whether it’s “morally correct” to me or anyone reading this or not.

the one hill i will die on though, is i do not fw dubcon or noncon. even if its written as a trauma response sharing it and pushing your idols or celebrities(riki or other idols) into that is extremely horrible. if you write it because of trauma- keep it to yourself, and that’s none of my business. people cope in different ways whether i agree with it or not. writing your favorite idols as r-pists or manipulators to get what they want s-ually is extremely messed up especially when posted onto a public platform in regular #(insert idol group) and predominantly not nsfw tags. it’s irresponsible and subjects a younger audience(especially on tumblr. ao3 is another mess but at least ao3 is primarily used by an older crowd) to being exposed to thinking intimate acts like that is normal, when its absolutely not. and you might think “who would think that? it’s writing!” the amount of times people have openly stated in the fanfiction community admitting that they have never had s-x but will just write what they’ve picked up on is insane. same argument that p—n ruins mental health and mental image of healthy relationships if exposed to watching and consuming that content for too long.

this is coming from someone who was r—ed. i think it’s extremely insensitive to push idols onto that whether it’s written as a trauma response to the action or not. you’re putting innocent people and writing them as r-pists. fiction or not that’s weird.

and if it’s not written as a trauma response, i don’t understand the smut dubcon/noncon community’s fascination of getting r-ped. it’s a terrible thing to happen and i don’t wish it on anyone. the ptsd from it and how unclean you feel is so gut wrenching and there’s nothing you can do about it. part of your life gets taken from you and you can never get it back. there is lifelong trauma after that. almost everyday i wish after it happened to me he just killed me so i wouldn’t have to live with it. i still get nightmares and it’s led to sh and other mental issues that i just have to deal with now. why is that a fantasy to people?

back to the topic of people writing noncon/dubcon for riki (or any other idol but i’ve been seeing WAY too much for riki)

i might get comments saying “it’s not that serious it’s fanfiction it’s not real”

you’re writing about an 18 year old boy r-ping someone (the READER)

it’s the same argument of nsfw drawings of characters who are children. just bc it’s not real doesn’t mean it’s not fucked up and weird.

it is that serious and it’s weird and gross and mentally deranged. i will die on that hill.

i wont attack these people or start fights like i used to, i have a life outside of tumblr. but on my downtime i do check the #enhypen tag. and to see this shit sometimes floating around or even on the #riki tag. is just fucked.

idk it just upsets me, i obviously block these people and move on from my life bc i have goldfish memory but there’s like five accounts that just kept popping up in the past week that i’ve had to block. i know some people might be like “oh you really showed them!!1!!1!” in an annoying way, but either way i stand by my point that it’s fucked up and i’m human so i’m allowed to get upset by it.

[peachesofteal]

You and Dead Disco were my introduction to ghoap x reader and now I’ve fallen in love with the dynamic. I’ve discovered so many amazing fan fiction and authors through this ship and have coped so hard through these stories. I can’t even explain how much it all means to me (without sounding like a nut job) and it’s largely thanks to you.

My heart breaks for the ending of Dead Disco but I know it’s time and I (will … eventually) accept it. I’m glad I got to read it, I’m glad I got to watch the story and their relationship grow and change. And even though I’ll miss darling and this version of Johnny and Simon and this relationship, I’m also excited for your other stories that you have now and the possibilities of the future.

Don’t mean to be dramatic but I feel like fanfiction is such a huge part of me life rn (as someone with no social life) and has carried me through so many difficult moments. Since Dead Disco and your other series are some of my absolute all time favs rn, I feel like I owe sm to you. Ugh I’m sorry this is overly emotional but I’m a sap. Thank you for everything ❤️

This was incredibly sweet and I’m honored to be a part of your life through these stories. It’s a joy for me to write and share them, and I’m always so happy to know they make a difference to someone or are enjoyed. Dead Disco was my first Ghoap x reader too and it really brought me to a new appreciation for fic, knowing I could write a character that others could relate to and understand.

You don’t sound like a nut job 🩵

[tripleglitchwriting]

You mentioned Ultra Magnus trying to cope with the world of One Piece and the Strawhat Pirates and I. Am. Here. For. It.

UM is a very ernest stressed out lawful good character. and the Strawhats are a chaotic good force. More Chaos than all the Wreckers and the Lost Light put together.

So in honor of that post If you don't mind me asking for two requests in one request box open run I'd like to request a One Piece/Lost Lighters crossover.

The Strawhats are helping The Lost Light crew because Luffy and Rodimus vibe. Roddy has a grand fleet flag and Luffy has a Rodimus star.

Either, Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus in a lull in the action asks Robin why she's a Strawhat Pirate. She's the only sane one here.

Or, if your in the mood for something lighter, Franky and Brainstorm Share The Brain-cell^TM while Usop and Perceptor attempt damage control.

YOU UNDERSTAND. YOU GET IT. I will be happy to write this!! I’m sorry it took me so long, I’ve been going through a rough patch when it comes to motivation.

The lost light characters may be a bit ooc because I’ve been having a hard time gauging their personalities. A lot of what I have for them in my head is from other fanfictions.

Also, this is just the start of the story, it’s just how they meet. I’ve yet to write specific interactions between characters, but I wholeheartedly plan to write more!

A little side note for clarification on One Piece in case anyone needs it:

- This takes place sometime after Jinbei gets on the ship

- I watch the dub so I’m going to use all of the names and such they use there (ex. Black foot Sanji -> Black leg Sanji)

- Sanji and Brook will be normal to women. I just don’t want to write them being weird.

Without further ado, I present…

Ten Idiots Meet A Ship Full Of Other Significantly Bigger Idiots

Synopsis:

After an experiment gone bad on the Lost Light (again), a portal is temporarily opened up to another dimension. Before it could be closed, however, a group of strange individuals manage to slip through.

After a long day at sea, The Strawhats always look forward to a first-class home cooked meal by Sanji himself. It was a beautiful evening- the crew opted to stay out on the deck of the Sunny to watch the sunset.

“SANJI! I’M HUNGRY! FOOD! NOW!” Not that much peace could be had with a captain like Luffy.

“I’m coming! Not every cook can whip up something like this every night you know. I swear, you guys eat more than a whole island every day.”

“Hey, that’s just Luffy. Don’t include the rest of us in this!” Nami shouted from the stairs leading to where the rest of the crew sat.

“I’M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I SAY FEED ME! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” Luffy pumped his arms as he chanted, sticking his tongue out as he watched Sanji cart out a giant platter of cartoonishly large meat.

“Smells as delicious as ever, Sanji.” Brook commented.

“Thank you, Brook. At least someone appreciates my food around here.” He glared at his captain, who was completely oblivious to everything else around him and solely focused on his food. Everyone else chatted away. Laughing, eating, looking up at the beautiful swirling vortex that had just appeared in the sky.

Wait.

Luffy had to stretch his arms up as his food began to be sucked into the portal above them, but it was in vain as he began to float too. The Sunny creaked as gravity shifted around them, everything but the ship itself beginning a startling ascent upwards.

“MY MEAT! NAMI, WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“How should I know?!” She clung to an uprooting tangerine tree, “This is NOT normal! I haven’t read anything about whatever this is!”

“Everybody hang on to something!” Jinbei ordered, staring to float himself. Brook didn’t seem to get the message, as he was the first to loose his grip.

“SOMEBODYHELPMEIMBEINGPULLEDIN—”vwoop! And then he was gone.

“BROOK!” Luffy, having already eaten everything on his plate, launched himself into the portal.

“Damnit Luffy!” Zoro did the same soon after.

“What? Are we seriously going in that thing?” Chopper squealed, Usopp and Nami seemed to agree.

“Maybe we’ll all be immediately killed once we enter. It would be a painless death at least.” Robin said calmly, affixing herself to the ground with her devil fruit powers.

“YOU ARE NOT HELPING!” Usopp, Nami, and Chopper all screamed in unison.

“I suppose this is our next adventure!” Jinbei leapt through the portal. Sanji sighed and followed after him.

“Well, Sunny’s too big to go through that thing, so I guess we’re goin’ in without her.” Franky detached himself from the mast.

“Okay everyone, come on.” Robin peeled Usopp, Nami, and Chopper from their death grips on the ship and took all of them with her as she joined the rest of the crew.

“ROBIN WHY-“ Vwoop! And just like that, the Thousand Sunny was left empty.

————————————

Brainstorm was in big trouble. And possibly the entire Lost Light. And maybe the universe. The good news is his portal machine worked! The bad news is it was now pulling in random things from a random space in the multiverse. This would be a great opportunity to study it, unfortunately the stability of the thing was questionable. That is to say the portal was currently beginning to implode.

“Brainstorm, what are you doing!?” Preceptor skidded into the room right as he heard the snapping and crackling of something that probably shouldn’t be making that sound.

“Oh, nothing. It’s fine! It’s fine. I just need to- oh that’s not good. Actually do you mind helping me shut this down before it destroys the entire ship?”

“You’re going to be the death of all of us-” right as he began to walk toward the vortex, a screaming clatter of something came speeding out of it. On closer inspection, it seemed to be the corpse of a human.

“Oh, well, that’s new.” Brainstorm oh so helpfully commented. Just after another being came from the portal, also screaming but not quite as dead. Another followed, this one with a complete and utter look of annoyance on his face.

“What in the- Brainstorm, what did you do?” Ratchet entered, as did Ultra Magnus.

Soon there was an array of things entering the room. Aside from the array of random objects, there was a large blue organic followed by an another human wearing a black suit, then large possibly techno organic. Four other small people shot out shortly after.

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT NOW!” Ratchet ordered.

“Oh why didn’t I think of that- oh wait, I did, and I COULD USE SOME HELP!” Together they pulled on a comically large mad scientist like lever affixed to the portals control panel. As quick as it had arrived the portal was gone, though what- or who- it had just pulled in were gaining their bearings.

“Hahahaha! That was fun!” One of the humans, one wearing a yellow hat with a red line across it, put his hand on his head and looked around. It took him a second to notice, but when he finally realized where he was the man yelled, “WOAH! Cool! This place is huge!”

“It seems to be some sort of… metal building. A giant workstation perhaps.” The blue man said thoughtfully.

“Well I say we get out of here! I don’t want to be around when we find out why this place needs to be so big!” A long-nosed human whisper shouted.

“What, like those freaky statues?” The very annoyed man gestured at Brainstorm, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, and Preceptor, who were all standing completely still. That is, until Rodimus showed up.

“Brainstorm, I heard yelling, is there a fight? Without me?” He strolled in casually, not looking at the floor, and instead focusing on his crew who were all staring at him. “What? What did I do?”

“That. Is. AWESOME!” Something from the floor shot up at Rodimus’s face. “Are you a robot? Can you shoot lasers? Do you eat metal?!” Somehow, someway, there was an ecstatic human right in front of his optics.

“Luffy! Get down from there!”

“Woah. So, care to explain? Anyone?”

“We are not robots, we are Cybertronian.” Ultra Magnus automatically stated.

“Cool!” ‘Luffy’, as his friend called him, somehow managed to launch himself on top of Rodimus’s helm. “Is there any food here?”

“Luffy! Damnit-” Another of the humans, the one in the suit, jumped. Accept when one would normally begin to succumb to gravity and fall back down, he took another step in the air and kept going. “You are so reckless!” The man tackled Luffy off Rodimus and they both began to plummet down to the ground- a height deadly to something so small.

“Sanji, let me down! I want to talk to the robot!”

“How about you shut up and come up with a plan before you get us all killed!” The moment they jumped off, Ratchet was already in motion. He was able to dive behind Rodimus to catch the two, but as he slid on the ground to save them ‘Sanji’ jumped off the air again and landed perfectly safe.

“I… I can’t even begin to explain this.” He admitted in a completely defeated tone, now chassis down on the floor.

“Do they all move?” A small voice whispered from the group still standing where the portal once was.

“I hope not.” Another replied.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” Brainstorm said calmly.

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted this.” Ultra Magnus put his servo on his helm. The two that had just survived a deadly landing like it was nothing walked back to their group- one much more unhappy than the other.

“Sorry about him. He does this a lot.” The annoyed green haired man glared at both of them.

“Oh, like you’re any better moss head.”

“Oh yeah? At least I didn’t jump in the face of a giant robot!”

“Yeah, cause you’d get lost on the way there!”

“You take that back-“

“STOP IT!” Half of the new arrivals shouted at the same time. One orange haired girl stepped up to comfort the bickering duo.

“This is not the time to argue! We’re kind of… we- look!” She gestured at, well, everything. Everyone else seemed to silently agree.

“Greetings visitors from another world! Welcome aboard the Lost Light!” Brainstorm announced with a flashy arm movement.

“Hey, I’m the captain, I get to welcome people into the ship!”

“You’re a captain?! Is this a pirate ship? Are you giant robot pirates?!” Luffy shouted in awe, though still in the arms of Sanji, who promptly dropped him.

“He said he was ‘Cybertronian’ bro. Not a robot.” The probably techno organic chastised.

“Psh, whatever.” Luffy got himself to his feet.

“We are not pirates.” Ultra Magnus said very sternly. “We are on a perfectly legal exploratory expedition.”

“Oh, bummer.” He glanced around once again. Apparently deciding now was a good time, he introduced himself. “My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy smiled brightly and giggled, either ignoring or disregarding his friends facepalms.

“Well, I’d say this was a great success!” Brainstorm cheered to himself. “Who knew that was possible! I really am a genius.”

“And who are you?” ‘Moss head’ sneered at him. “Who are any of you? This is weird.”

“Well, if I’m allowed to introduce my own ship this time, my name is Rodimus Prime, captain of the Lost Light!”

“Hang on, this is your ship? How did you build something like this, it looks like it’s straight outta Vegapunk’s lab! What part of the world are we in anyway?” The blue hair techno organic asked, putting his oversized hand on his strangely shaped chin.

“Space, my friend. We’re in space. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if anything living would make it through that portal. Looks like it’s got about a 9 out of 10 survival rate which is better than most multidimensional portals I’ve seen. That is to say I’ve never seen one before, because I built the first one. Just now. No need to congratulate me.” Ignoring Brainstorm’s blatant narcissism, the of new arrivals looked absolutely flabbergasted by this information.

“We’re in space? Like, space space? Outer space?” Luffy asked with eyes wider than any moon, a big bright burning ball of excitement building in his chest.

“I assume you’ve never been off your planet before?” Perceptor asked. Luffy didn’t respond this time. He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, though his crew mates didn’t seem to pay much mind. One or two of them shook their heads in response to the question. “Well, Brainstorm, care to explain what you’ve done here?”

“What I’ve done- well, if you have the mental capacity to understand- I can give you a basic rundown. I’ve designed this portal to reach into alternate dimensions, which have hardly been confirmed to exist other than the dead universe. I’ve been worked steadily on it for a while now, and today I tested it out. It brought these ten organics here as well as some other junk.”

“Brainstorm.”

“Yes?”

“You mean to tell me, you turned on an untested and extremely dangerous machine that could obliterate our entire existence within nanokliks for no reason other than bragging rights? And when it miraculously did work, you pulled in ten random people from an unknown possibly incredibly dangerous world that could have also imploded our entire existence?”

“Yes that about sums it up.” Perceptor’s optic twitched, but as it seemed time was moving a bit too fast for him to start lecturing. The corpse on the floor began to move, slowly at first, and then in a sharp practiced motion it popped up on its feet.

“Yohohoho! I think I passed out for a second there!” The skeleton looked around. “Oh. I definitely passed out. No bones about it!” The apparently not corse laughed to himself.

“Cool! I didn’t think those human stories about corpses coming back to life were real!” Rodimus said with a childlike playfulness.

“They’re not.” Ultra Magnus argued bluntly.

“Oh, I am a skeleton. It’s a long story. Say, Luffy, what is going on?”

“We got sucked through a portal and now we’re talking to giant robot guys.”

“Oh okay.” The skeleton nodded, and then quickly scurried to where three of the other humans (and animal thing?) were huddled.

“Well, remind me to change that to a 10 out of 10 survival rate!”

“I feel like introductions are in order here…” Perceptor stated, “I’ll go first. My name is Perceptor. I’m a scientist. Now, you.” He gestured at Brainstorm.

“Well, if you insist. I am Brainstrom. Genius inventor of the machine that brought you all here.”

“I am the duly enfor- ah, I mean Ultra Magnus. I try to keep the peace around here.”

“You know me, I’m Rodimus.” He nudged Ratchet. “It’s your turn, doc.”

“Fine. I’m Ratchet. Retired head medical officer.“

“Cool names!” Luffy, having sprung back up, was jumping up and down. “This is my crew, the Strawhat Pirates!”

“Roronoa Zoro. Soon to be greatest swordsman and second hand man.” ‘Moss head’ introduced himself. The orange hair girl stepped out of the group.

“I’m Nami, the navigator.” The long nose man shakily emerged after her.

“I am commander Usopp! Best sniper in the world! I’m also the leader of one thousa-“

“Don’t even start.” The suit wearing man stepped up. “Sanji. I’m the crew’s chef.” The animal like thing approached from behind another crew member.

“Um, my name’s Chopper. I’m the doctor.” He tapped his hooves together nervously. A woman, one who hasn’t said much until now, patted the hat on his head in a compassionate manner.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archeologist.” She smiled sweetly and quickly got out of the way of the blue haired inhuman human man rushing to the front.

“Name’s Franky!” He struck a strange pose. “A SUPER good shipwright!” The skeleton stepped up beside him and did a short bow.

“My name is Brook. I am lucky to be the musician of this crew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he stood up the large blue man stood beside him.

“I am Jinbe, the helmsman. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He bowed deeply.

“Now that we did that, do you guys have any food?” Luffy asked immediately and without hesitation.

The fifteen of them stood in Brainstorm’s mildly disfigured lab space, each with very different thoughts running through their heads. A new world, a new people, things most on the Lost Light never even imagined possible. From then on, the world got a little more chaotic.

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {I}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Please be sure to read the trigger warnings before reading the chapter or any chapter from this story! I hope you all enjoy reading these chapters as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Writing this fic has been a coping mechanism of sorts. Please like, drop a comment, or reblog if you wish. x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

My Dearest Sister,

I must apologize for Feyre’s absence in this letter. She is angry with you after your previous words and says that Isaac Hale is more of a man than you will ever realize. Now, I know nothing of their relationship so I cannot chime in, but even with her in a bitter state, I wanted to reply to your kind and loving words.

I’m so pleased that your life with Tomas is so grand. It’s like a fairytale, one we read of when we were young. You’re like Cinderella, saved by a prince that could give you the world. I can only hope that I, myself, find such a happy ending one day.

You were right in your speculations. Greysen and I are no more. He’s promised to another, in fact. They shall be married this season and although I understand - she is a beautiful lady of society, you see - I have still cried myself to sleep each night for a month. There is no need for you to come protect my honor. He has made his choice and it is one that I must live with. By the Mother’s grace, I shall move on. 

Do you think that there is a time when I can come visit you? A ball sounds so exciting. What are they like? I imagine lovely treats and drinks and magnificent dresses. Oh, and lovely music where couples dance until wee hours of the morning. I’ve been practicing my dances, although I have very few opportunities to use such knowledge around here. I hope to attend events this season to show my newfound skills. My favorite is the waltz. How romantic! 

Tell Tomas we say hello. Feyre, although angry, sends her love. So does father. We miss you, dear sister. I hope to hear from you soon.

Your sister,

Elain 

Nesta 

“Undress.”

I notice my husband comes into my room but he waits ten minutes before saying a word. Of course, the first word he says is demeaning, but I do not have the right to refuse him. Even so, I pretend to read my book for another moment, although there is no use in reading. The air is too thick when he is present to read. Even my escape becomes nonexistent. 

“Nesta.”

My name on his lips feels wrong. There is no awe in it, no love. There is only a hint of annoyance. Reluctantly, I place a ribbon between the pages of my novel and close it shut. 

“Apologies, my lord,” I say. I hardly recognize my own voice. “It is hard to put down a story so captivating.” 

“Ah,” he says, chuckling, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “I should have known, my headstrong wife. Come. Undress.” 

I am only in my nightdress, and it hardly hides a thing, but I don’t say as much. What’s one more layer gone? 

When I stand, I feel I am no longer in my body. I feel like an outsider, watching myself from a distance with an empty space where my heart should be. I hardly notice his eyes on me as I slip my shift off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I stand before him, bare and unfeeling, glad he is only looking and has yet to touch. 

I know the peace will not last long. 

He approaches me. 

As he begins stripping off his shirt and trousers, I lay back down in the center of my bed and wait. I find a spot on my ceiling, a spot next to the golden trim where it seems a spark flew too high out of the fireplace. I focus on the spot, then my breathing, and as my husband crawls on top of me, I force my body to relax.

As he pushes into me, that spot becomes my anchor. 

I did not want to marry Tomas. The truth of the matter is that I would have married anyone, and I probably would have hated every man pushed in my direction just as much as I hate Tomas. I have yet to meet a man worthy of anything other than disdain that has a title to his name and although me marrying a man with a title, with money, was necessary, I know that I would’ve been happier marrying a man that had absolutely nothing. 

I’ll never know.

We were wealthy once, when my mother was alive, but after her death everything seemed to fall apart. My father made a series of poor business decisions and it left us with nothing. It wasn’t until Lord Tomas Mandray visited our village for a weekend last Autumn that our luck changed. We were in the right place at the right time and he took notice of me. My father negotiated our marriage and that was that.

I had no say in the matter. Yet, I would stand by every time, would let it happen all over again if given the chance. My sisters are cared for, thanks to my husband’s generosity. As is my father, but I could care less about his happiness, if I may be so blunt. He has never given a damn about me. Why should I feel any differently? 

Above me, Tomas grunts. It’s a horrible noise, recurring, until his body grows tense, releasing inside of me. I keep still. The stiller I am, the quicker this ends. 

He collapses on top of me and catches his breath. I lay there, flat on the mattress until he rolls off of me and rises from the bed, redressing. I do not move until he’s gathered all of his garments and walks toward the door, his exit.

“I’m going to the club,” he says, and that’s it. The door shuts behind him and I’m being enveloped in the silence. For a moment, I cannot move. I continue to stare at the spot on the ceiling, its grand display becoming a comfort to me. I let Tomas’ release drip out of me, unsure if I want to become with child or not. A child would be a blessing, an heir, my duty, but it would also be Tomas’s, and there is a part of me, a selfish part of me, that does not want to progress his bloodline. Perhaps a man as brutal, as demeaning, as execrable as him should not reproduce. I know that children are not their parents, but I also know Tomas. 

The air suddenly becomes brisk against my bare skin but I can’t bring myself to move. When I move, I’ll have to get up, I’ll have to clean myself, I’ll have to redress and pretend as if everything is fine. 

Nothing is fine. Fine is irrelevant. 

The spot on the ceiling begins to blur and I cannot tell if I am crying or my eyes have simply given up. Either way, I feel nothing. I’m not certain how long I lay there, how many minutes or hours pass, but the sky outside remains dark as time goes by, dismissing my emptiness into nothingness. I pray to the gods, the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone who is willing to listen to give me an ounce of strength. 

I’ve no clue what time it is by the time I finally convince my feet to move, finally convince myself to rise and cleanse the remnants of my husband’s seed from my body. When I lay down again, I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep until it finally claims me.

~.~.~

Cassian

The numbers are not where they should be. 

I’ve gone over this month’s pages twice now and I feel a sense of panic rising up inside of me so I pour a drink, then another, until the numbers no longer scare the shit out of me. I’ve only started feeling the joyous buzz when the door to my study bursts open and my two closest friends, my brothers, stride through the door, unwelcomed and not caring. 

“Get up!” Rhysand says, grinning in that way that I equally love and hate. The grin that says something terrifying is about to take place. “We’re going out.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“You work too much,” Azriel mutters, plopping down on a settee against a far wall. “And that’s coming from me.” 

“I’m trying to build an empire to pass onto my children,” I defend.

Rhysand barks a laugh. “What children? First you need a wife and you won’t find that sitting on your ass alone every night.”

“It’s late,” I say, but it’s more of a groan as I let my face fall into my hands. 

“It’s not even midnight,” Rhysand mutters, shaking his head. “What happened to you? You used to be the fun one.”

“Yes, well, I’m nearly thirty. The fun had to end eventually.”

Azriel whistles. “Someone’s feeling morbid.”

“Hardly made a profit this month.” My words are muffled by my hands. “I think I’m going to have to raise the rents. Again. It’s been a shitty spring in the fields. Hardly anything’s been produced.” 

Rhysand sighs, sitting next to Azriel and tossing an arm around his shoulder. “You’ve some money set aside, yeah? Look to invest. My investments bring in far more money than anything else.” 

My hands fall from my face and land on top of the papers that are scattered across my desk. I nearly knock over a candle. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Sounds like a lot of work that I’m not prepared for.” 

“Yeah, work that’ll pay off. Quickly.” Rhysand jostles Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighs. “Are we getting a drink? I need a drink.”

“You two go,” I say, attempting to straighten the scattered papers. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” 

“Know who you should meet with?” Rhysand asks, paying absolutely no attention to the words coming out of the rest of us. “Tomas Mandray. I hear he’s gotten a hold of a few profitable mines up north. Always looking for investors. Easy money.” 

Just the name of that asshole makes me feel sick. “That guy’s a prick.”

“Yeah, a successful prick,” Rhysand says, and Azriel snorts. “You meet with him once a year and get a good payout every month. Surely that’s worth it.” 

“Leave him alone,” Azriel says, eyeing the half-full bottle of brandy on my desk lovingly. “If he wishes to dismiss solid business opportunities, let him.” 

“So you agree with Rhys?” I ask, picking up my empty glass only to realize there’s nothing in it.

Azriel’s lips thin. “I don’t care what you do, as long as it involves me getting a drink at some point.”

I lift a brow. “Something the matter? Seem agitated.”

“Az is always agitated.” Rhysand claps Azriel on the shoulder yet again, to his dismay. “I’ll set up a meeting. Go if you want, don’t if you want to keep crunching numbers until you fall asleep on your desk. Come. Az needs to be drunk.”

Azriel didn’t deny it. I suddenly feel a sense of selfishness, worried I’ve missed what’s been going on in both of their lives. Clearly something’s wrong with Azriel, something I should know about but don’t. I’ve been too engrossed in this shit. Abruptly, I stand up from my desk and try to smooth out my rumpled shirt. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Rhysand frowns and Azriel lifts a brow. The former asks, “With you looking like that?” 

I sit back down. “You’re right. I should stay here.”

With a curse, Azriel stands and hurries out the door, leaving Rhysand and I alone. 

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, quietly.

Rhysand shrugs. “Won’t say, but I know it’s bad. He needs us. He needs entertainment.” 

I sigh, fully aware I’m losing this battle. I realize that his carefree attitude tonight has been for Azriel’s benefit alone. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“I know Mandray is the last person you want to spend your time with, but he’s honorable. In business, anyway. It’ll be worth it. I mean it. I’ll call for a meeting.”

I stare at my brother for a long time, knowing he’s the only person in this city more stubborn than myself. “Fine, but if this comes back to bite me in the ass, you’re paying for it.”

His grin tells me that he doesn’t give a damn. “It won’t. I’ve been doing business with him for years.” 

Azriel comes back into the room at full speed, tossing a jacket and hat on my desk. “It’ll cover your wrinkled shirt. Come now.”

This time, when he rushes out of the room, Rhysand and I are following him. I’m not certain where we’ll find ourselves, in an opium den or brothel or a common gentleman’s club, but I must admit that as we walk out of my townhouse, into the cool night air, I feel a little bit lighter. 

If there is one thing I can count on, it is the company of the two men before me. We’ve known each other since we were children and they are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family.

My father was a man of nobility but my mother worked in a brothel. Being his only son, my father recognized me as his heir but never named my mother. I used to think it was a curse but after my father’s death I saw it for the blessing it was. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry, but if I do…and if I have children of my own…they will be well cared for.

Financially. Morally. All of it. 

When that day comes, if it comes, I’ll consider myself a lucky man. But, for now, I follow Rhysand and Azriel from one side of town to the other to be the fun, young bastard I once was. 

I’ll need it, especially if I’m getting into business with Lord Tomas Mandray. 

[starpirateee]

I truly love your fanfiction, it is amazing!

Your docket is already probably pretty full and I’m not sure if this is too complex or just not a good prompt but this idea keeps buzzing around my head and I’m not a good enough writer to write it myself so I thought I might as well ask.

What if Curt went back in time to before the fall and was able to change his actions so Owen was fine in this timeline. However Curt is haunted by the memory of the monster his partner became in the original timeline. He tries not to let it show because it’s not fair to this Owen but sometimes he can’t help himself.

Hi anon!

First of all, thank you!! Second, I know I'm running on a pretty full roster rn what with the.... Everything, but a vast majority of everything that ends up in my inbox gets written at some point! So let me see what I can do!

"So… What, this is a do-over?"

Curt didn't so often find himself in a good enough mindset to consider what Barb was doing these days. Every day had been a barricade of emptiness, of feeling so insatiably alone in his thoughts because there was something so formerly present in his life just… Missing, and that was hard to come to terms with. He had tried to cope since digging his grave with his own two hands, but that wasn't easy either. Just cope, as if that was something that could be done. Just cope, as if he had any say in the matter.

Just cope, like every fiber of his being wasn't aching to do something right by him, even just to have the capacity to say his name out loud. For all he'd haunted him in the last four years, he deserved better than to be left to the formless void that currently made up Curt's mind.

When Barb suggested something that had been prevalent in her research for longer than he'd been paying attention, he finally got a little bit of his spark back. She was suggesting to him a way to do everything over, to start from the beginning and make sure that none of this shit ever happened in the first place. On one hand, it wasn't fair, because Curt had been thoroughly haunted for years now, to the point where he'd convinced himself that the best course of action was literally to kill the love of his life in point blank range. He'd lived with the ghost of that man for longer than he cared to admit, and it had become more and more obvious by the day.

Those who said he was digging himself deep into the throws of his own depression were wrong. Those who said he drank to forget were wrong, too. This was all about getting rid of the past, sure, but he knew that he'd never be able to forget it.

Still, Barb's idea of a do-over was very tempting, and it wouldn't be the first time that Curt had given himself up for the sake of testing out some new theory of hers. Maybe one day he would even learn to recognise the effects of what he'd done to himself by letting her run her hypotheses on him… But, today was not that day.

She nodded, confident that she knew what she was doing. It took a lot to see through what she had once felt for Curt, especially given that it was so obvious that he was anything but okay over what he'd had to do, and that had led to a whole number of open doors and things he wouldn't have admitted to anyone else.

"Yep. That's what it should be, anyway. You're gonna go back to '57, and… Just like you said, you're gonna get a chance to do it all over again. I don't know if this is the right idea, Curt…. I mean, that date?"

"You asked me to pick," Curt answered, a little too sharply for a man as nervous as he was. "And I've made my choice. June 12th, 1957."

"Okay, I just wanted to know you were sure you'd rather go… There than anywhere else."

"Barb… I want to fix things. I want to be the one to make things right, in the one way I never got the chance to. Would you give me that much, please?"

He was going to take the place of his idiot former self. He was going to swap out, and pretend like he had been there the whole time, and that all of this was meant to happen. By no means was he ready for it, but he'd managed to convince his aching mind that he was. God damnit, he couldn't even bring himself to think of his former partner's name without opening up a wound that was never meant to be there, and he deserved better than that. He deserved the honour of being known, the pleasure of staying alive following the avoidance of certain obstacles.

All of those obstacles were his fault. He knew fine well that he was the only person capable of not making those mistakes again, of saving him, even if he couldn't save himself.

"Okay, Curt. June 12th, 1957…. Good luck out there."

Curt managed something of a smile, and held his hand up in a mock salute. He took a breath, rounded his shoulders, and tried to remember exactly what conditions he was going to be letting himself into.

1957 was exactly as he remembered it to be. This facility, the one that he was standing in front of now, was exactly as he remembered. Only… This one was in tact. Not yet blown to the ground by a series of bad miscalculations and a judgement which— again— rested entirely on his shoulders. There were certain things that he knew he had to fix, and he tried to work them out over and over again, just to make sure he had the right course of action here.

He had to stop himself from setting the explosives timers to three minutes. That one had been the most fatal mistake, the one that had cost him the most. He was allowed to at least keep the decision to blow the place to the ground, because without that decision, they'd have both been caught, and imprisoned, and the torture would've been real that time, rather than a mockery put on by the world's most incompetent man and one who was only pretending the whole time.

But, to counter that, he had to ignore the need to counter the point about the safety barricades, because then even if the worst did happen again, they'd be ready for that eventuality, and it wouldn't be so bad.

Most important of all, he had to stop himself from taking that goddamned snack break in the middle of the job. That fall was caused by that. Caused by him believing wholeheartedly that such a menial little step wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

God, thinking about it like that had really made him realise how badly he'd fucked up. How right he was to blame himself for all those years, even if there was a small part of himself trying to run that it couldn't have possibly all been his fault.

Because it was, wasn't it?

Okay. Couple things to remember, but all should be fine. Take the blueprints, eliminate the chance of being followed by the ….. present Agent Mega, and make the escape without any of those slipups. Simple.

"Simple," he muttered to himself, solidifying his plan in his head. This was going to be easy. This was a sitch, he had this in the bag, and he'd had more than enough time to think about it since he'd done it the last time, so he was convinced that this was going to go better. This… Could not possibly be as bad as the last time.

Getting rid of his double was the surprisingly easy part. He'd made sure that nobody could find the bastard, and that would count doubly for when the place was blown to the ground. That was one part of the track covered, and he already felt a little better about what he was about to do because of that. If the first part— disposing of a version of himself that was arguably more capable and less prone to the throws of alcoholism— was that simple and went that smoothly, then he had hope that the rest of it would be just as smooth.

He took the blueprint file and slipped it into the inner pocket of the leather jacket he'd travelled in. It wasn't the same getup he'd been wearing previously, but it was certainly more comfortable and a little more bearable too. New outfit, new course of actions, new outcome. That's how it worked in his head, and it made a whole deal more sense than it had any right to.

Making his way through the halls of the facility was the hard part. He knew he was bound to get caught at some point, because this had all happened before, and it probably didn't matter where, because as far as he was aware, they already knew that he was in the facility, so it was only a matter of time before—

"Ha! Agent Curt Mega himself! And here I thought they were joking about you…"

A voice from behind him. Not one he thought he'd heard before, but this particular patch of his past had been rather blurred over by the rock bottom that he'd hit not two months after the first time he'd found himself in this situation. He raised his hands slowly, not bothering to turn around. Getting caught, that was a constant. That was the only way he could start to get out in the right company, and the only way he could set everything else into motion.

He felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head, as the agent dared to get a little bold and crossed the distance between them. If Curt was trying to do exactly as he had last time, he'd have put up a fight until they had no choice but to flip that gun and give him a hefty blow to the side of the head. This wasn't that time, though, and he knew exactly what he had to do to set everything up right. So, true to a nature that nobody saw coming from him, he went peacefully.

All was going exactly as smoothly as he'd expected. He'd ended up with the same poor bastard who didn't really know what he was doing, and it was just the two of them alone for a while. Perfect opportunity to throw a few meaningful insults his way and pretend he wasn't already aware of how little damage this man could actually do. He swore that guy bruised his knuckles trying to land a good blow to the face… Where did they dig up agents like that?

It hit a block when he heard another someone enter the room from behind, and chuckle to himself. The laugh alone was enough to turn his blood to lead, but the voice that came after was a lot worse, and almost sent him into shock despite the fact that he knew exactly what was coming, when it should've been coming.

"You're even stronger than your reputation suggests, Mr Mega…"

That accent wasn't so much of a botch job as he recalled, but it still sent a deep shiver running all the way down his spine. Not so much because the man was intimidating at all, or knew how to make an impact, but because that voice and whichever identity it went with came back to one man and one name. One true voice. One true set of personal history that really did not have it's benefits, as far as Curt was concerned.

Owen Carvour.

It was painful to think of him as alive, after he'd spent years convincing himself that he was dead. It was painful to be here right now, feeling the wrap of chains digging into his wrists and knowing there was nothing he could do to get away from hearing that voice again. For once, he couldn't run. for once, he had to stop, and he had to think. He couldn't let himself seem suddenly afraid, or anything that wasn't the suave confidence that he'd portrayed the last time this went down, because then Owen would ask about it in the event that he did actually let him go.

The last time Owen was behind him in this positon, he was dead set on actually killing him, on making that impact he had seemed so incapable of in this facility, and making sure Curt bled for his mistakes. That would never happen again. Because Curt knew he was going to fix this. Because Curt— who had already seen all of the mistakes and all of the consequences— was not going to come all the way back here and end up fixing nothing.

He had to save Owen. If nothing else, the two of them were going to make it out alove tonight, and he didn't care what the price was.

He put on a cocky little smirk, and looked over his shoulder at the disguise Owen was wearing that near enough managed to fool him something chronic. God, he really was so good at this, wasn't he? He really was such a fantastic actor, and he really did relish in it… He was right, he was definitely cut out for the stage.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this…"

Curt was trying to keep himself together, to try and keep from passing out. It was getting more and more difficult by the second, but he was trying, and that had to account for something. The man behind him was a stranger by all accounts, and there was nothing about him that would even suggest that the two of them had met before, yet… This wasn't the first time he'd mentioned this supposed grudge match that he had against him.

He tensed, trying to focus on one thing at a time, and trying desperately to ignore the fact that there was something painfully personal behind each of the mad assassin's words. That they didn't themselves cut and leave a mark. That there was something between them that he could never figure out.

This Owen hadn't killed so many people in cold blood, and he didn't delight in torturing the life out of him. And he was never going to be that man, either. Curt knew he should feel relieved at that, but all that remained in his chest was a stagnant, dormant panic, waiting to erupt.

Keep it together, Mega.

"That so? Well, that all depends on what they're saying about me, doesn't it?" He managed, in the smoothest, most put-together tone he could, one that well matched the smirk pulling at his lips.

The fake Russian hummed, his eyebrows raising. "They say you're quite formidable. I was ready to prove them wrong, but it seems I have my work cut out for me, no?"

"Do your worst."

This back and forth was familiar to him, as was every stage of the so called "torture", which really wasn't painful so much as it was vaguely irritating and very funny. That poor agent they'd recruited didn't know what he was doing in the slightest, and it took all of Curt's energy not to laugh whenever something went wrong.

Eventually, Owen had "taken what he wanted" out of the interrogation, and lined up the barrel of his gun. Curt could see that it was pointed at him, just as it was last time. That was a false sense of fear, striking him while he was supposedly "vulnerable", but this time, it struck a little more of a chord than probably intended.

"I am going to single handedly dismantle EVERYTHING you ever believed in!" Owen dared to step down, closer towards Curt, and pushed the unwavering barrel of his gun straight out towards Curt's forehead. In that exact moment, Curt wished he would just pull the trigger, and be done with the heartache for another day. Add another number to his already expansive tally, and move on.

He said the only thing he thought he could in the moment, the only thing his mind would let him say.

"We used to share those beliefs…"

He closed his eyes, hoping to god that this wouldn't have a different outcome this time, that he hadn't accidentally brought back the ghost of Owen to torment him all over again in a way that was more real.

But no, it was exactly the same as last time. Owen lowered his gun, the incompetent henchman was shot twice through the knees, and then Owen was once again behind him and setting him free before the bastard could even hit the ground.

"Owen-" Curt breathed, hoping that he was able to pass it off as relief that all of that was finally over, and not as the fact that he had been genuinely worried that Owen would shoot him while he couldn't defend himself. He needed to pick himself up. He couldn't let himself carry on knowing that the dead Owen still lived on in the confines of his mind. He'd finished that job himself, he was not going back to it now.

"You goddamn bastard, really let him loose on me, didn't ya?"

"Took me a while to find you, I'm afraid… But even after that, it's always rather fun to watch people try and knock some sense into you, don't you think?"

There was a teasing edge to Owen's tone, one that Curt had so sorely missed over the last years. He stretched out his back, ignoring the way that his wrists felt, and then accepted his gun from Owen. This was starting to feel familiar again, and he liked it. Now was only the getting out part, and he'd been running his instructions to himself since he'd gotten there, so he knew exactly what he had to do to ensure that this Owen— the Owen that was willing to laugh with him, and share his missions, and toast to the end of it all— stayed alive no matter the cost.

That, after all, was the only reason he'd come back.

"Sure, sure… When are you ever gonna let me do this shit to you?"

"Good luck catching me, first."

The time came for he and Owen to make their escapes through the compound. Owen was the one who led the way, as he always did, looking like he was making up a plan on the spot. Curt once again got that call from Cynthia, the one where she sung Owen's praises as she did every time the two of them had the chance to speak, and once again told Barb that he had to blow up the entire facility.

While that did throw Owen off his rhythm a little, he was able to regroup in good enough time to formulate a different direction to all of this, and Curt was listening so intently to the every intonation in his voice that he completely forgot to take the snack break in the first place. His voice sounded so wonderful when it wasn't broken by years of trying to be someone else. He'd forgotten how rich it was, how full of intent his every word was… When he realised that he'd missed it off completely because he was too engrossed in literning to Owen actually talk to him with intent again, the two of them were on the floor, ready to set up their charges.

Still, Curt wasn't going to be one to back down from a challenge… He was just going to… Listen to Owen this time, give them that extra minute.

He started unzipping the bag on the ground, looking between all of the handmade explosives devices they were going to be using to blow this place to kingdom come, and with it, hopefully, all of the memories that came with a knowledge of the future. "Hey, Owen." How he'd missed just getting to say his name like that, and to someone who would respond to it as well? "Remember our record?"

"Sorry?"

"Y'know, our record. Last one was Berlin, I think. We got outta there in six minutes or something.. Think we can beat it? How about five?"

Owen deliberated on that for a while, trying to decide whether five minutes was really a fitting definition of breaking their record. They needed to go above and beyond for this, and go out in a blaze of glory if Curt was really that insistent upon blowing the place up. He shrugged. "Not enough… Four?"

"Four?" Curt raised his eyebrows like he was surprised, or impressed. "That's the spirit! Four, if you think we're gonna make it out in time."

"Sure we can. Do you doubt it?"

A little. He'd seen how badly three minutes could go for them both, adding only a minute extra didn't seem like it was going to cover what they needed to cover. Suddenly there was doubt there, and he thought Owen could see it too. "How about I meet you halfway?"

"Four and a half?"

"Four and a half still breaks our record," Curt pointed out.

"That is true…" Owen hummed, toying with the idea of it. Then he nodded, satisfied. "Four and a half minutes it is, then. What's that… Two hundred and… seventy seconds?"

The bomb timers were set to seconds. The two of them had to convert as fast as they could, come up with a number they could both agree on, and then lock that in. When he put it like that, it sounded awful, like they had no time at all, but Curt supposed that it was much better than a mere one hundred and eighty.

"Two…. Seventy, yeah. Three hundred's five minutes, right? So yeah?"

Owen nodded dutifully, and the two of them set about locking in the times in their respective areas. Curt felt strangely assured this time around, that things were finally starting to look up. He'd campaigned for more time, and that felt like the right move to him. That felt like something he knew he should be doing.

They passed the charges between each other, covering a lot of ground all at once. Owen made the suggestion to lock the barricades, but Curt said nothing at first, lost in his own head a little bit. He knew that protesting was the wrong move. They needed those barricades to get them by if something was to happen to either of them, and now that they had a little more time on their hands, they may have actually been able to do something about it if the worst was to come to pass.

"Curt?"

"Barricades… Remind me?" He asked as if he didn't already know, and Owen sighed. That was fair, but he needed to know what they did, so he knew how much of a correct measure it was to not ignore the request.

"They're the levelling doors on the silo, they'd prevent either of us from being pursued, and besides, it might be useful if you're planning on levelling this whole place… Might stop some accident or other."

"Right. And you can do that?"

Owen shrugged. "Should be easy enough… I see no reason why I couldn't."

"How fast?"

"Fairly fast, I'm rather confident with what I'm seeing."

"Okay. Do what you gotta."

That was definitely the right move. Curt smiled a little as he passed Owen on the way back to the main floor, and Owen looked up for a brief moment and managed a smile of his own. This was one fight that— after all this time and all that thinking about it— Curt was finally going to win. Tonight, he was not going to lose Owen. Tonight, he was going to walk out of here with his head held high, and Owen was gonna be right there by his side.

[leonscape]

i can’t remember if did this or not but it popped up in my head so i’m doing it

ikepri as writers

nothing much to say about chevalier he’d be a romance author. it’s not that he can’t write anything else, he’s got the smarts for writing a mystery plot or thrillers or dramas whatever else genres. he’s just drawn to romance the most.

jin’s gotta be a erotica/smut writer but he probably has a pen name lol. very popular author with the ladies he’s pretty much the only male author that seems to nail the erotic stuff and actually knows women’s anatomy. very versatile smut writer and has a wide variety of content, you’re guaranteed to find something you like. he writes stuff with and without plot. his plots are actually pretty decent and original; although he does write cliche and overdone tropes pretty well too.

clavis is a crack fic writer. he writes “fanfiction” of chevalier’s stuff and he just pranks(?) the characters. he makes up oc’s and just memes everyone in the story. he also probably is that type of author to update his readers with the most batshit crazy out of pocket news about his life. “sorry for not updating i got stabbed by my brother so i stabbed him back so sorry if this has mistakes i didn’t have time to edit it i hope you guys enjoy!” he also writes original stuff too but it goes unnoticed and it’s not as popular as his crack fic content.

leon’s the type of writer that writes like three sentences and then goes back to just daydreaming about the story instead of writing it. or he just falls asleep. he’s got some good ideas he just has a hard time sitting down and actually writing it. he probably also falls down rabbit holes or research so he knows strange and random facts about weird topics. when he does post, it goes largely unnoticed but he has a few loyal readers that prefer to be anonymous. leon would probably write a bunch of different genres because he’s just got a lot of different ideas. he definitely draws from his experiences and personal beliefs. his characters are very lovable but if only he updated his work…

yves writes baking recipes and puts his entire life story before recipes. just kidding. kinda. i think he writes romance too because everyone else seems to be writing romance? he reads his brothers’ work, mostly leon’s, licht’s, and chevalier’s work. he was tricked into reading jin’s content and now he refuses to read anything from jin and clavis. ngl tho he has tried to write smut but it won’t ever see the light of day. unless clavis gets his hands on it. anyways yves probably spends too much time planning out his characters. he’s got an organized folder of information for each character. spends way too much time on baby name websites too. also way too much time on pinterest looking for outfit inspo for his characters. so all this time spend on planning and making them, he always gives his characters happy ends and never hurts them.

licht writes angst, but he always gives them a happy end. it’s kinda like his way of coping? writing a happy ending simply because he can because he’s the god of his own world. the sense of control he has of his characters brings comfort. they do experience a lot of traumatic things, but he always resolves everything in the end. his characters have the best development and the writing in those emotional scenes are immaculate.

nokto doesn’t really write. he thinks he’s not good at it but he’s decent. i think he writes angst or maybe tragedy is a better word to use here. but it’s in a forbidden/taboo setting (nothing inappropriate get your mind outta there). he writes situations of his characters wanting something they can’t have (kinda like romeo and juliet). he’s also a casual smut writer which makes the tragedy hurt more.

luke doesn’t writer he’s a reader. he’ll read anything as long as it’s interesting. he thinks jin’s stuff is weird but it’s easy to follow so he reads it. he also reads clavis’ stuff and thinks it’s really good (actually he doesn’t think that he was just bribed with honey to say it was good). he’s dabbled in a little bit of writing stories but it never really went anywhere. he has written children’s stories tho. it’s just sitting in his drafts collecting dust.

[yinyuedijun]

i don’t wanna sound annoying but is there not gonna be a part 3 to tokyo vice? i don’t want to sound pushy it’s just given me brain rot and now all i can think abt is all the unhinged shit they’d get up to just for the REAL psychosexual torture to be vanilla sex bc it knocks some of suo’s screws back in place and that somehow leads to both of them self actualizing instead of being slightly less miserable together

i’d write it for myself but i’m not that great of a writer….but if this brain rot gets worse i might have to write fanfiction for fanfiction

(to clarify: if i did write something i would keep it to myself forever !!!! unless you’d want to see it but that feels very presumptive to say so. uh. yeah (；ŐωŐ)b )

there is not going to be a part 3! as far as I'm concerned, the tokyo vice story is narratively complete and won't have any more chapters - thank you for reading it!!

I'm happy to hear it gave u brainrot though and it's SENDING me to think that the vanilla sex would be the real psychosexual torture because you're so right 😭😭😭 at the very least it would be incredibly torturous for the reader. she's never had tender sex with anyone in her life!!!!!! and for someone who relies on impersonal sex and ironic humour as coping mechanisms, I think it would scare her so much!!!!!! I regret to inform you though that while it is somewhat self-actualizing for the reader, I think it doesn't help suo whatsoever. the act of making reader orgasm that hard & subsequently making her cry for him so sweetly afterwards actually makes suo infinitely worse as a person. people don't consider vanilla sex to be a fetish, but suo somehow makes it his fetish. he is way weirder about it than any bdsm play they do together. they are both happier for it though!

all this to say, yes I might write a very silly companion piece about their sex life HRGGLSHALSJ so I'd hold off on any fic writing on your own end for now!!!!

[wxntedman]

i saw that you said writing about incest was insensitive to victims, so i thought i’d sort of give my piece. my name’s em, i write incest (on occasion), and i’m a victim of repeated sa via a family member.

to start off, i get it. incest is objectively a revolting topic. when i was 18, i probably would’ve felt the same way. i understand how you’re feeling, and i understand why you’re confused, too.

i can’t afford therapy. i work two jobs and live with a chronic illness whilst studying psychology. but i’ve been: and genuinely, while i was there, it didn’t really change anything. they suggest to go on walks, to listen to music… that doesn’t undo what happened, for me. maybe i’ll try it out again when i can fork over $100 every two weeks. but for now, i can’t.

i don’t have an incest kink. i think back to any of my actual experience and my hands start shaking. i don’t really get off to writing it; it’s more of a detachment thing. i don’t associate incest and sa with my abuser when i interact with it via fanfiction; it’s in my hands, not his. i have control in a situation related to another where i had none. that’s the best way i can describe it. i post because i’ve had a lot of readers dm me or send me asks regarding being a victim of the same thing, and thanking me for helping them.

you’re totally fine to disagree with people writing it, and i really mean no offense to you: i just request that you don’t really come for us. a lot of us are just writers trying to cope. i know it’s jarring, i know it’s odd: but we’re generally harmless. people just don’t respond too well when called disgusting. when these waves of hate come about, i get these big waves of personal hate, too — stuff encouraging me to hurt or starve myself (for context, i have anorexia), stuff telling me that getting sa’d was my fault or that they hope it happens again, the whole nine yards. callouts don’t actually get anyone to stop posting — it’s usually just harassment to the same victims people say they’re supporting.

i hope this sort of clarified stuff. i’m bad with words on occasion. i just wanted to explain & maybe come to some sort of middle ground, lol. if you have any questions i’d be more than happy to elaborate on anything: i just ask that we keep stuff civil & respectful.

hi em!

thank you for sharing what you went through, one I just want to say you're incredibly brave and strong for going through that.

I am also a victim of it, which is why it's so sensitive for me. for ab 12 years by a family member, daily.

I hear your points, I just also think maybe there's some things that don't need to be on the internet, and I think the way people post this content really does come off as glamorizing it or fantasizing about it. I don't agree with you getting death threats or harmful threats of any sort, if that's what you use to cope then fair. I write stuff for myself all the time to cope, but I keep it to myself.

The whole topic just makes me very uncomfortable with how people approach it. I guess I genuinely don't understand how people could get comfort over writing their favorite character s/a them or doing incest with them. Maybe that's a me thing, but I felt I was sering this topic so much, I'd hate to see a topic like this be normalized because incest is NOT normal at all.

[fixated-on-something]

OK SO TO SUMMARIZE

(Will be updated frequently)

My main blog is @robin-writes-and-such

Accidentally created another magicians side blog @quentinlives oops more places for my delusional rambling oh noooo how will I cope

You can Call me Robin, Felle, or Ray (or something else like ‘That weirdo that’s obsessed with the magicians’)

This is where I rant and monologue and maybe share fanart/adjacent stuff (perhaps even fics but no promises)

Yes I do in fact have ADHD

I frequently note spam people by accident- sorry if you receive 1000 notifications!

Im a minor, I don’t private message on platforms like this (typically) but I will absolutely have conversations with people in tags and comments, and you’re free to dm me with questions that aren’t personal!

This blog will probably change what it’s centred around quite a bit, but at the moment it is SyFy’s 2015-2019 show The Magicians, which I got so obsessed with that I needed to contain it in this side blog.

Most of the things I post will probably just be my opinions and stuff and I know this show doesn’t have a huge fandom anymore so

If you’re also into The Magicians thennn welcome!

Also I’m clearly an OTP Queliot supporter so yk- I guess if you don’t like that ship thennn agree to disagree????

My tag for Magicians content will be “fixated-on-Magicians”, I’ll index more tags here whenever this blog changes fandoms (or if I fall in so deep that I need to sort by category)

I may start adding rtc posts… that tag will be fixated-on-rtc if I do!

THE FANFICTION

I am planning and writing a Magicians fanfiction that would be a hypothetical sixth season, in which I’ll be almost 100% canon compliant (maybe discounting some of season 5). Posts related to this fic will NOW be tagged Further Than Fillory (previously tagged MS6FF, standing for Magicians Season 6 Fan Fiction)

THE MAGICIANS DECK

I bought a second hand deck of cards, and I’m making a series of drawings in which the Magicians cast are the face cards, and each ace represents the dynamics and plot lines of the people in that suit. When the drawings are finished, I will print out the drawings and paste them onto the cards! I’ll also be drawing side characters onto the number cards. To see progress on this, look under the tag “Felle’s magicians deck” and for more specificity they are sorted by suit as well (example: Felle’s hearts suit)

ADDITIONAL NOTE:

You are free to use my art for stuff with credit! Go nuts! A lot of the art I post here is realism studies or me tracing screen caps and spicing them up for personal projects. As long as you credit me if you’re using my art as a pfp or something it is all good! Just DO NOT USE MY ART FOR COMMERCIAL USE (selling it or anything) and PLEASE PLEASE do not print out my playing cards! I am looking into selling them as prints in the future and would prefer that you not print them before then! Thank you <3