#publsihed

[katsukikitten]

Both you and bakugou growing up on a youth reform farm, tolerating one another because of your friends until he gets jealous and calls you a buckle bunny cause you're wearing a buckle of a man ten years your senior who he used to idolize and Bakugou is jealous it isn't his.

And now the two of you hate each other's guts and it carries into your adult lives blah blah horses

[jewishcissiekj]

losing my mind over the sheer stupidness of giant size x-men #1 (2025). that's not how. any of that works. kamala is not dumb. krakoan is not the language krakoa speaks, it was created by cypher to be the mutant language. this is a fanfic and it's not even well-researched. get her out of there

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Monster High Pride 2024

Monster High Pride 2024 preview. At Monster High, everyone belongs, and Pride Month is a time to skelebrate and show extra love to the LGBTQIA+ community #comics #comicbooks #monsterhigh

[sillyfriendssharingablog]

ELI'S DREAM

WORD COUNT: 1k (more or less)

CONTEXT: this is a piece from chapter 12!! this is all a dream Eli is having, after he had woken up from a nightmare and Azedi helped him go back to sleep comforting him and singing to him. Also, they haven't told each other their feelings yet in this chapter. Enjoy the read!!

Eli: ...Where are you taking me Az? 

Eli’s hand was being pulled forwards very strongly by Azedi’s, that was walking in front of him. Their toes were deep into the sand, that the night had painted blue. There were no stars that night, clouds had covered all the sky above. Azedi had to show Eli something, but she hadn’t told him what, but he trusted her and let her guide him to wherever she intended to take him to. But weirdly, she hadn’t talked in a while either. And in a while, I mean all their journey that night thru the desert, which was painfully uncommon for her. 

Eli: ...you’ve been too quiet tonight...is something wrong? 

Azedi didn’t even turn around to give him feedback that she had heard what he had said, she just kept on walking and walking. Then, they had entered a small forest, one of those you find rarely in the desert, the ones people hallucinate about. And they started to walk thru the woods, thru the plants, thru the trees. Eli was making sure to be careful where he was walking, meanwhile Azedi wasn’t even trying to avoid the things that were thru her path, she didn’t even look at them, she just walked by like nothing.  

Eli: Azedi can we go back? ...it’s looks dangerous out here. 

Azedi didn’t respond again. She was determined to take him where she wanted to, and nothing would have made her go back. Eli sighed and just continued to follow her. Azedi picked up a road that went uphill, so they followed it, up, and up, until Azedi had found the spot she was searching for. A spot free from the trees, there was only grass, where you could see all the sky. Azedi moved forward more into the center of the spot, and then laid down on the grass, stretching her legs and arms out, feeling all the little grass strings touching her skin and hair. And then, she smiled brightly, feeling joy in that moment, just by the bear feeling of being in touch with nature. Eli looked at her, while standing up next to her, a bit confused. Then she patted next to her, indicating him to lay down next to her. With a bit of reluctance, he did just that, and laid down next to her. It felt uncomfortable for him, he didn’t like the feeling of the grass hitting his bare skin, since he was topless, like almost every day. It was a bit cold, and the flower crown he had was starting to hitch. Meanwhile, Azedi was so relaxed that she didn’t even notice Eli’s awkwardness. She started to hum to herself her lullaby, with her eyes closed, breathing in and breathing out the fresh forest air. Eli noticed it and turned to face her and looked at her for a while. She looked so pretty with that calmness in her face, like if nothing bad had ever happened to neither of them. She looked like she was in the place she was meant to be, and that she was at peace with herself. He started to blush a bit, realizing that he was staring a bit too much She was enjoying herself, and he should learn to do it too. 

Eli: ...is this why you took me here? To learn how to relax? 

Azedi: nop! 

Azedi had for once responded, and with her typical energy, she sitted back on the ground, holding her flower crown before it would have ended up on the ground due to her quickness. He imitated her. She then pointed at the sky. Eli noticed that the moon was about to peek out of a large cloud. The moon that night was somehow bigger and brighter than the usual, or maybe he remembered wrong.  

Eli: oh...so we came here for the moon? 

Azedi: yep!  

Azedi chuckled and sitted with her legs crossed, waiting for the moon to come out of the cloud like it was the first time she had ever seen it. Eli smiled and sitted closer to her, waiting for the moon with her. And then, finally, the moon showed up, in all its shininess and glory, like a huge crystal lantern in the sky. Eli gasped, surprised both by its beauty and by the fact that he was finding something so cheesy beautiful.  

Eli: woah! That’s nuts! Azedi it’s beautiful...Azedi?  

Azedi wasn’t looking at the moon, but instead, she was looking at him, with her bright smile, with her cute tooth gap showing. Even if she had made all that road to that place for the moon, now she wasn’t paying attention to it. She was instead paying attention to Eli’s eyes, the way he gasped, the way a smile of excitement had curled up in his face. Azedi had went all the way up there not for the moon, but to look at Eli while he was looking at it. Eli went red in the face, noticing how she was looking at him, and go annoyed. 

Eli: h-hey! What’s up with that face!?  

Azedi just giggled in response. 

Eli: we’ve come all the way down here for you just to not look at it? 

Azedi giggled again. 

Eli: why aren’t you responding me! That's so rude! 

And then Azedi finally exploded in laughter, her loud laughter that could shake even ground itself. Eli was even more mad at her now, but at the same time he was enjoying her teasing him like this.  

Eli: oh you! 

Eli pushed her to the ground, not so hardly, but she continued to laugh anyway. Eli was more annoyed, but now he had an idea.  

Eli: since you like laughing so damn much... 

Then he went on top of her and surprised her with his hands on her tummy, tickling her. Azedi immediately started to laugh harder, moving left and right trying to free herself from Eli’s hands. But she didn’t mind it at all, and neither did Eli, that started to chuckle himself too. 

Azedi: stop it! Stop it! 

Eli: then you need to stop making me waste my time like this! 

Azedi: but we didn’t waist our time! You saw the moon! 

Eli: yes, but you didn’t look at it! 

Azedi: ahah! But me just wanted to...show it to you...cut it out! 

Eli: why did you had to show it to me? 

Azedi: because...ahah! I love you, dumbass! 

Eli then suddenly stopped tikling her, frozen by what she had just said. It was like the world just stopped at the sound of that sentences that was said between laughter's. He took a moment to realize what had just come out of her mouth. And when he did, he felt his world suddenly turn the right way, and a smile creeped out in his face, as well as his cheeks turning bright red. He felt something inside of him, something he had already felt, but not so strongly as now. Azedi had stopped laughing and looked at him with curiosity, a bit worried that he had stopped all of a sudden- 

Azedi: Eli? 

Eli: say it again. 

Even if he had realized what she had meant, he just wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. 

Azedi: ...dumbass? 

Eli: no... the other thing. 

Azedi: I love you. 

Eli: now say it again. Louder. And spell it out.  

Azedi rolled her eyes. 

Azedi: I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U!!  

Then Eli was satisfied. But then, he also noticed something else. He was shadowing her away from the light of the moon, and the only thing that wasn’t darkened by Eli’s presence were her two black eyes, that looked at him again with curiosity wondering why he was silent again. In that position, shadowed by light, looking like just a silhouette, she looked very familiar to something else that he had met in another dream. And then, it hit him. Everything made sense now. 

Eli: ...it was you all along... 

Azedi: ...what? 

Eli: I love you too! 

Azedi: oh...well duh.  

Eli blushed hard as he realized what he had just said. He hadn’t even thought about it, he just let his mouth move without his mind’s control, but his heart’s. But it was still pretty embarrassing. Azedi sat back up and held Eli’s hands tenderly. 

Azedi: well, me knew it already. 

Eli: ...you...did? 

Azedi: you are so easy to read!  

Eli: but y-you know it’s early in our f-friendship and I thought-. 

But he was shut up by her two fingers covering his mouth, while she made a cheeky smile to him and narrowed the distance between their faces.  

Azedi: shut up dumbass... 

Eli looked down at the two fingers that were covering his mouth and, after a second of confusion, he chuckled. His eyes ended up meeting hers, and he felt all kinds of magical feelings he had never dreamt of feeling. Just the sight of her two big eyes could make his world heal. And then his eyes ended up lower, on her lips, and how damn close to his they were. He started to blush even more, but he didn’t flinch or move his head away at all. He even moved it closer to Azedi’s, like it was a natural thing for him. Then he felt Azedi’s warm hand resting on his cheek, as she had gotten closer herself. Eli, now only his heart was in control of him, rested one of his hands on her shoulder and the other in the back of her head. And like that...their lips met, for the first time, in that magical moment under the moonlight, in that beautiful forest. It was all so perfect and romantical... 

Except it wasn’t real. 

fun fact: after this Eli get's roughly waken up by Azedi destroying the bathroom of the room

[bellshazes]

clover au spoilers. if anyone even cares. originally the entirety of the au was this:

“One last job,” says Scar. Scar’s cat is winding its way between his legs, and it’s the  Real cat, false leg.

the lack of ending to that 2nd sentence is real and still unfinished. i wanted scar as the underground synthetic-real-cat dealer guy and everything devolved from there. and below are some wild postulations on who could do what (it's now pretty mixed on who's got what role, most people do multiple besides bdubs, who is just... ora. he's ora. it's obvious)

[000marie198]

🔪 because i think all fanfic authors search history must be very funny lmao

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Pirate speak. I've bought books on sea travels and adventures to get a hang of pirate speak. And all of that is just for one silly boy

[writeblrfantasy]

If you don't mind me asking, what/who did you use to self publish?

hi! i used draft2digital :)

[endlessp0ssibilities]

『Making a site that'll have muse info and rules on it. Looks good but then I remembered I have to draw ref sheets for all my muses.』

[jaionweb-blog]

Visitor from UK penguin publishers

[monkeyssalad-blog]

FEURE, Georges de. New Year's Greetings from the publisher, Octave Uzanne, Paris, 1897. by Halloween HJB

[bloseroseone]

Epistrophe: Definition, Example, and More

Repetition is a powerful tool in language, isn’t it? Whether in literature, speeches, or songs, repetition makes ideas stick. One literary device that takes repetition to the next level is epistrophe. But what exactly is it, and why is it such a favorite among writers? Let’s dive in!

What is an Epistrophe?

Epistrophe is a rhetorical device in which the same word or phrase appears at the end of subsequent clauses or phrases. This method is frequently employed to accentuate a concept or elicit strong emotions in the reader or listener. For example, in Abraham Lincoln’s famous statement “of the people, by the people, for the people,” the phrase “the people” emphasizes democratic ideas. Writers and speakers utilize epistrophe to add rhythm, emphasize content, and leave an impression on the audience.

How Epistrophe Works in Writing

Creating Emphasis Through Repetition

Creating emphasis through repetition is one of the key techniques that make epistrophe effective in writing. By repeating a word or phrase at the end of successive clauses or sentences, writers can reinforce an idea and make it more memorable. This repetition creates a rhythmic pattern, drawing attention to the repeated elements and enhancing emotional impact. Whether used in speeches, poetry, or prose, epistrophe helps to emphasize key themes, evoke strong feelings, and leave a lasting impression on readers.....Continue reading

[kyleandrex-comic]

PART -> 3

1 <- PART

[writersvseditors]

Will a read by an editor lead to being published?

Well, usually yes. You usually need a literary agent to even get your manuscript sent to an editor, and they also negotiate your deal with a publication house. 

But sometimes, a literary agent can act as your editor, removing a piece of the puzzle, but then your work will get sent to another editor. So your piece will be edited multiple times by multiple different people and will most likely have multiple different sets of feedback.

It’s going to be overwhelming, the publishing world moves fast, and they will probably expect you to revise fast. But this will help you cause if an editor doesn’t like your book, they will try to help you succeed next time.

“Sometimes when an editor declines, they will give you some constructive feedback as well, which can be helpful if you don't get any offers in this first round of submissions.”

This quote above is a sign that if you got that far in maybe your first attempt, you will eventually get published. It may take time and may be stressful, but getting to the editing stage is a huge accomplishment.

Matesic, Alyssa. “What Happens After You Get a Literary Agent? — Alyssa Matesic | Professional Book and Novel Editing.” Alyssa Matesic | Professional Book and Novel Editing, 18 Aug. 2024, www.alyssamatesic.com/free-writing-resources/what-happens-after-you-get-an-agent.

[arathejedi394]

NO NO IT IS NOT INCREDIBLE THIS IS UNVERIFIABLE YOU CANNOT PROVE THAT I WAS TELLING THE TRUTH but yah it's true this is in fact part of my lore

YOU JUST CAN'T PROVE IT

but yes i should be one of your favorite ao3 authors bc im good at it

i cracked this morning and read the first like 200 words of my og novel that i wrote when i was 13/self-published at 14

and like

why did hank green post it on his instagram with praise?? like i think of it and i cringe. today i re-read the first 200 words and i wanted to stop existing?? why did my mom give him a copy of it i did not ask her to do that??? i just went to one of his concerts in 2014 and my mom just gave the book to somebody and for some reason that somebody gave it to hank green and then suddenly im in the crowd 15yo new best friend bc nerdfighteria and hank green is like "oh somebody gave one of the guys this book just before the show and i took a look at it and i kinda like it it's pretty good" and up he holds none other than my og novel he goes "a 14yo wrote this and it's pretty good this affirms my faith in humanity or something like a very young not-adult did this whole novel and it's not bad that's cool" idk what he said it was 10 years ago. and there's me in the crowd freaking the fuck out i say to my new bff who i had just met at the beginning of the concert bc we were standing next to each other like "BRO THAT'S MY BOOK" new bff is like "BRO THAT'S YOUR BOOK???" and starts jumping up and down for attention like "YO THAT'S THIS GUY'S BOOK" hank green hears points at me and goes "HEY HE'S RIGHT THERE YOUR BOOK'S PRETTY COOL KID" AND THEN!!! HE FUCKING PUT IT ON HIS INSTA??? AND PRAISED IT??? THE STICKY NOTE MY MOM LEFT ON IT WITH LIKE 10 WORDS OF SYNOPSIS STILL ON THE COVER??? ALL OF HIS INSTA FOLLOWER'S SAW MY MOM'S HANDWRITING??? AND MY WHOLE ASS INITIALS + LAST NAME??? A COMPLIMENTARY REVIEW BY HANK GREEN HIMSELF??? WHY?? WHY WAS MY 15 MINUTES OF FAME THAT CRINGE ASS Y/A NOVEL???

nobody go looking back at hank green's 2015 insta. do not confirm this is true. let this be a totally unverifiable claim of some rando fandom blogger.

listen. i was 13 when i wrote that book. i was so full of brand new baby teen angst. i do not understand why hank green did not open the book flip through a couple pages go "oof this kid needs a therapist and a writing coach" and never mention it again. i do not understand why he mentioned it on stage, i don't know why he put it on his instagram, it was so bad. ohmygod. i wish i could forget it ever happened

eXCEPT I CAN'T

bc iT wAs SuPpOsEd TO BE A TRIOLOGY. aNd I ONLY WROTE ONE. AND MY PARENTS ARE STILL ASKING ME WHEN BOOK TWO IS COMING.

IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS.

[seungminsleftear]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 5470

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years,, Reader is referred to as female and wife,

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal, Emotional and Psychological Trauma, Unresolved Grief and Loss, Intimacy and Relationship Issues, Family Conflict, Self-Worth and Identity Crisis, Anger and Violence, Emotional Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts or Self-Harm, Intimate Relationship Details

Author’s note: I have not watched season 4 and yet I know about Five x Lila… Kms

Spoiler: All you get is, There will be a part 2

Click here for part Two!

I MOVED ACCOUNTS THE REST OF THIS FIC WILL BE PUBLSIHED ON @seungminsbaldspot !!

They had been missing for a few hours now, and the anxiety was beginning to gnaw at your insides. You could only guess that Five and Lila had gotten caught up in a different timeline—something your husband was well-acquainted with doing. You tried not to think the worst. After all, Five was skilled, perhaps the most skilled among you, but the worry persisted like a shadow clinging to your every thought.

He had told you stories about when he was young, disobeying his father, and jumping through time. He saw the apocalypse, lived through it, unable to return to his original time. He would speak of the chaos and destruction, the sense of being unmoored in a fractured world. Then he told you about the moment the Handler found him, plucked him from that desolation, and invited him to join the Commission. And that's when he met you.

And oh, how he hated you.

You were, and still are, the complete opposite of that grumpy old man. You were always precise, a stickler for the rules, never one to color outside the lines. The Handler loved you for it—your discipline, your meticulous attention to detail, your unwavering commitment to the Commission's goals. You were reliable, the perfect agent, the kind who made her job easier.

He, on the other hand, was a wildcard. Reckless and unpredictable, he saw rules as suggestions rather than absolutes. He didn't care about the consequences, not when there were bigger things at stake—things only he could see in the chaos of time. He was a man who thrived in the midst of uncertainty, a constant challenge to your carefully ordered world.

But that was part of what drew you to him, wasn’t it? That contrast. The way he lived life like he was on borrowed time, like every moment was his to seize. You hated how he would disregard protocol, how he’d show up late to missions or disappear altogether, chasing his own ghosts through the folds of history. And yet, there was something about that fearlessness that fascinated you. Something about the way he could stare into the abyss of time and laugh, as if daring it to swallow him whole.

The Handler loved assigning the two of you missions together. You were the perfect team, each of you balancing out the other's weaknesses. She liked to say you were two sides of the same coin—your precision and his improvisation, your strategy and his audacity. Together, you were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with.

It wasn't always smooth, of course. He had a way of getting under your skin, pushing your buttons in ways no one else could. He loved to rile you up, to watch that carefully maintained calm of yours crack, just a little. He’d tease you mercilessly, call you names, question your every move. But you never let it show, not in front of the Handler. You knew she was watching, always assessing, always deciding where her next move would take her. And despite your irritation, you couldn't deny that he had a knack for getting results.

And you hated that. Hated that he could bend the rules, defy protocol, and still come out on top. But the more time you spent together, the more you began to understand him, to see the method in his madness. He wasn’t just a reckless fool; he was smart, sharp, and had an uncanny ability to read a situation and turn it to his advantage. There was a reason the Handler kept pairing the two of you up, and it wasn’t just because she enjoyed watching the sparks fly.

You had never thought Five had cared so much about you—not until that one particular mission.

It had been a long day, the kind where the hours blurred together, each minute weighed down with tension and danger. You were both exhausted, having fought your way through the tangled threads of time, dealing with threats at every turn. Endless close calls, contact after contact, each encounter more chaotic and draining than the last. You were used to this kind of work, but that day felt different. Maybe it was the weight of the mission, or maybe it was something else—a premonition, a sense that something was off.

You and Five had been tracking a target across multiple timelines, chasing down a loose end that the Commission desperately needed tied up. The mission had seemed straightforward enough at first, but complications arose as they often did, turning what should have been a simple extraction into a drawn-out battle. After hours of fighting—ducking bullets, dodging blows, and navigating through the chaotic flow of time—you were growing weary. You prided yourself on your precision, your ability to remain sharp under pressure, but even you had your limits.

You weren’t thinking straight. The fatigue was getting to you, and in a moment of distraction, you let your guard down. It was only for a second, but that was all it took. A sharp pain tore through your side, and when you looked down, you saw the knife buried deep in your abdomen. The world seemed to slow around you, a haze of shock and disbelief clouding your vision.

You staggered, clutching the wound, trying to maintain your balance, but the pain was overwhelming. You heard Five shout your name, his voice cutting through the fog of agony. There had been a strange edge to it, a raw urgency that you hadn’t heard before. You had always thought of him as the consummate professional—gruff, detached, always in control. But now, there was something different in his tone—something almost frantic.

He was at your side in an instant, his figure blurring with the speed of his movements as he dispatched the remaining threats with a brutal efficiency that was startling even to you. His face was tight with concentration, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that were usually so unreadable—were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear, maybe? Or was it… concern?

“Stay with me,” he had commanded, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands moved quickly, one pressing against your wound to staunch the bleeding, the other rummaging through his coat pocket for something—bandages, maybe, or some kind of first aid. He was muttering under his breath, a stream of curses and commands, as if he could will you back to health with words alone.

You tried to speak, to tell him you were fine, but your voice came out in a weak, strangled gasp. The pain was spreading, a hot, searing sensation radiating from your abdomen and up through your chest. You could feel yourself slipping, the world around you growing dim and distant. But even through the haze, you could still hear his voice, sharp and insistent, pulling you back.

“Look at me,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. You forced your eyes open, focusing on his face—his furrowed brow, his clenched jaw, the way his lips were pressed into a thin, determined line. “You’re not dying here, got it?”

There had been a fierceness in his voice that surprised you, a kind of raw intensity that you hadn’t heard before. You’d seen him angry, sure, and you’d seen him frustrated plenty of times, but this was different. This was personal. And it was then that you realized: he wasn’t just afraid of losing a colleague. He was afraid of losing you.

“Five,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. You wanted to say something comforting, to let him know you’d be okay, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was reach out, your fingers brushing against his, a silent acknowledgment of his efforts, of his fear, of his care.

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, his gaze locked onto yours. “I’m not losing you,” he said again, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve lost too many people already. Not you. Never you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the chaos around you fading into the background. It was just the two of you, caught in this strange, suspended moment, connected in a way that was deeper than words, deeper than time.

He worked quickly, efficiently, binding your wound with a piece of his own shirt, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension radiating from him. You could feel the energy building around you, the familiar sensation of time beginning to warp as he prepared to jump you both back to the Commission. His hands were steady, but there was a tremor in them that betrayed his calm façade.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Just hang on a little longer.”

And then, with a blinding flash of light, the world around you shifted, the familiar pull of the time jump tugging at your very being. The pain in your side flared, a sharp spike of agony that ripped through your consciousness, but you held onto his hand, your grip tightening as you were pulled through the fabric of time.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in the Commission’s infirmary, the sterile white walls and the faint hum of machinery a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind. Five was still there, his hand still holding yours, his face pale but relieved. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, his eyes never leaving your face, as if making sure you were really, truly okay.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he muttered after a moment, his voice rough, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “You scared the hell out of me.” Despite the pain, you managed a small smile. “Didn’t know you cared so much,” you replied, your voice weak but teasing.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a softness in his gaze, a kind of tenderness you’d never seen before. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” he said gruffly, but you could hear the relief in his voice, the unspoken gratitude that you were still here, still alive.

And in that moment, you knew that things had changed. You’d always been a perfect team, but now, you were something more. You had seen a side of Five you’d never seen before, a vulnerability he’d never shown anyone. And you knew, without a doubt, that he cared about you—deeply, fiercely, in a way that went far beyond mere partnership.

As you lay there, your hand still entwined with his, you felt a strange sense of peace, a quiet understanding passing between you. Whatever happened next, whatever dangers awaited in the tangled web of time, you knew one thing for certain: you wouldn’t face them alone. Not as long as Five was by your side.

Since that day, he had been inseparable from you. At first, you found it strange—his constant presence, the way he seemed to hover just a little too close, always watching, always ready. Five had never been the type to show affection, to offer comfort. He was all sharp edges and quick wit, a perpetual storm in human form. But now, there was a softness to him, a quiet protectiveness that he tried, and mostly failed, to hide. And you no longer minded. In fact, you found it endearing. You came to cherish his closeness, his silent support.

You liked the constant teasing and the bickering that filled your days, a steady rhythm of banter and back-and-forth that felt more like home than any place you had ever been. It was comforting to have someone with whom you felt so... normal, someone who could keep up with you, match your pace, challenge you in ways that no one else could. The loneliness you’d once felt in the vast corridors of the Commission faded away with him by your side, replaced by something you never thought you’d have—companionship. Friendship. Love.

Many years later, during a quiet moment in the middle of another mission, Five finally confessed that he loved you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, nothing like the romantic stories you’d heard growing up. It was simple, almost matter-of-fact, the way he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You had been stitching up a wound on his arm, your fingers deft and practiced, when he suddenly blurted it out.

“I love you,” he had said, his voice gruff but sincere, his eyes not meeting yours. For a moment, you thought you had misheard him. But then he looked at you, really looked at you, his expression more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he added, softer this time, as if testing the words.

Your heart had skipped a beat, and you found yourself smiling, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t felt in years. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the truth, the simplest and most profound truth you had ever known.

Not long after, he asked you to marry him. It was as unceremonious as his confession of love, almost awkward in its delivery. You were in the middle of cleaning your weapons, preparing for yet another jump, when he looked over at you, his brow furrowed in that familiar way of his. “We should get married,” he said, as if he was suggesting you grab a cup of coffee.

You blinked, taken aback by his suddenness, but then you laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that felt good, felt right. “Yes,” you said, without hesitation. “Of course, yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in your mind. The life you’d built together, the bond you shared—it was more than enough.

The two of you quietly eloped, keeping your marriage a secret from the Commission. It wasn’t their business, after all. They didn’t need to know about the life you were building together, the small moments of happiness you stole between missions, the way you found comfort in each other’s presence amid the chaos of time. You had your little secrets, your private world carved out of the madness, and you intended to keep it that way.

And when Five decided he needed to go back to his family, “The Umbrella Academy,” you didn’t hesitate. You went right along with him, standing by his side as you always had. You knew how much he had sacrificed, how much he still carried with him—the weight of his past, the ghosts of his mistakes. But you also knew that he had found a new purpose, a reason to keep fighting, to keep moving forward. And wherever he went, you would follow.

And with that, you find yourself back into the present. You’re pacing around the room. Every minute feels like an hour, and every second that ticks by without a word from Five or Lila makes your heart pound harder in your chest. The silence is broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or the soft shuffling of footsteps.

Then, suddenly, the air around you seems to shift. A low hum fills the room, and the familiar tingling sensation of a temporal disturbance ripples through you. Everyone turns toward the source, eyes wide with a mix of hope and apprehension.

A flash of blue light erupts in the center of the room, and for a moment, it’s blinding. You shield your eyes, your heart leaping into your throat. When the light fades, you blink, trying to clear your vision, and then you see them—Five and Lila—standing there, slightly disheveled but very much alive.

The two of them share small, strained smiles, a strange new tension between them that wasn't there before. Diego rushes at Lila, hugging her tightly, his strong arms pulling her close. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispers, his voice breaking, betraying the tough exterior he usually maintains. Lila laughs softly, but it sounds different—almost forced—as she returns the embrace, her eyes darting briefly to Five.

Five stands apart, his expression carefully neutral, he struggles to make eye contact with anyone — especially you. He scans the room as if searching for a distraction, his posture stiff, his hands clenched at his sides. "Good to see you're all still in one piece," he mutters, his tone flat. When his gaze accidentally meets Lila's, he quickly looks away, as if the sight of her is too much to bear.

You smile at Five, offering a small nod. You both aren’t much for public attention, and you hoped a subtle acknowledgment would be enough to connect, to let him know you’re there. But Five never meets your eyes. His gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Your smile fades, replaced by a furrowed brow. What’s your deal, Five?

You feel a knot of worry tighten in your stomach. Something is off with Five, more than usual. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s hiding something, but this is different. It’s like he’s shut down entirely, locking everyone out—including you.

The others, caught up in their own reunions, don’t seem to notice the tension radiating from Five and Lila. Diego pulls back from Lila, holding her at arm’s length to look her over. “What happened to you two?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the subtle changes in their appearances—the slightly haunted look in their eyes, the way they seem older somehow. “You’ve only been gone for like 4 hours”

Lila’s smile is tight, almost brittle. “Feels like a lifetime,” she says with a small, hollow laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. Her gaze drifts back to Five, and for a moment, there's something almost like longing—or maybe regret.

Five flinches at her words, just barely, but enough that you notice. He looks down, his jaw clenching. “Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, cutting off any further questions. “We’re back now. That’s all that matters.” But his voice wavers slightly, betraying a crack in his composure.

You step forward, unable to keep the concern from your voice. “Five…what happened?” you ask softly, hoping to reach him, to break through whatever wall he’s put up.

He finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that makes your heart sink. “Drop it,” he snaps, a sharp edge to his tone that makes everyone else in the room go quiet. The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable, the unspoken tension between him and Lila now impossible to ignore.

Lila clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, maybe we should all just… take a breather,” she suggests, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s a nervousness in her voice that makes it clear she’s not as relaxed as she’s pretending to be. She glances at Five again, and you see it now—how her eyes linger on him just a moment too long, and how his jaw tightens in response, his expression guarded.

Diego, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not fully understanding it, frowns. “Did something happen between you two?” he presses, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Five and Lila. His gaze drops to Lila’s wrist, and his eyes widen slightly. “You hate wearing bracelets,” he points out, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Lila instinctively pulls her wrist closer to her side, but not before Diego catches sight of the handmade leather bracelet. “No, I like them,,” she says but her voice lacks conviction. Diego shakes his head, his frown deepening. “Yeah, you do. You traded the one I gave you for a vacuum, remember?” His voice is heavy with accusation, his eyes now fixed on the bracelet. “Where’d you get that one?”

Diego’s eyes narrow even more, his gaze shifting to Five. "Did you make that?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. The question hangs heavy in the air, charged with accusation and disbelief.

Five’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he glances at Lila, then back at Diego. His jaw is set, his posture rigid. “I sure as hell didn’t make that bracelet for you,” he replies coldly, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. There’s a finality in his tone, a hint of something unresolved but unapologetic.

Your breath catches in your chest, a painful tightness forming there. He made it… For her…? The thought is like a dagger, twisting in your gut. You blink, trying to process the revelation, the reality of it sinking in like a stone. A handmade bracelet—something so personal, so intimate.

You glance at Five, but he’s not looking at you. His gaze remains locked on Diego, unwavering, as if bracing for whatever comes next. A storm of emotions swirls inside you—betrayal, hurt, confusion. The room seems to close in around you, the walls pressing in, the air thick and suffocating.

Diego’s gaze shifts from Lila to Five, and you can see the pieces slowly clicking into place for him. His face hardens with a mix of realization and fury. “Did you screw my wife?” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The words explode into the room like a bomb, the air suddenly charged with tension.

Five’s eyes remain steady on Diego, his face an unreadable mask. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but Diego’s not interested in hearing it. His fists are clenched at his sides, his entire body radiating a barely restrained fury.

“You did, didn’t you?” Diego’s voice rises, each word heavy with the weight of betrayal. "All this time, and you—you were cheating on me?” His accusation shifts to Lila, his eyes burning with hurt and anger.

Lila quickly steps between them, placing a hand on each of their chests as if trying to physically push them apart. “Guys, let’s not do this right now,” she urges, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. “This isn’t the time or place.”

You stand frozen, disbelief washing over you. Your mind reels at the weight of Diego’s words. Cheating? The idea feels like a punch to the gut. You’ve spent countless years with Five, fought battles by his side, faced the end of the world more than once. And he gives it all up—for what? For his brother’s wife, over the course of seven years in another timeline?

Your breath catches, a sharp pain blooming in your chest. You try to swallow it down, but it’s too much, too fast. The reality of what you’re hearing—of what Five has done—feels like a betrayal deeper than anything you’ve faced together. The walls seem to close in around you, the weight of the revelation pressing down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You look at Five, searching his face for some sign of denial, of regret—anything that might soften the blow of this new reality. But he’s still staring at Diego, his expression unyielding, almost defiant. His jaw is set, his eyes cold and distant. There’s no apology there, no remorse—just a cold, hard acceptance of what’s been done, of what can’t be undone. The sight of his indifference twists the knife deeper into your heart.

You feel your chest tighten, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Your hands are trembling, fingers curling into fists at your sides as you fight to keep yourself together. You want to scream, to cry, to lash out and demand answers. But you know it won’t change anything. The damage is done, and the betrayal runs too deep. You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

You shake your head, unable to look at Five any longer. The pain is too raw, too intense, and being in the same room with him feels unbearable. You can’t handle this—not now, not like this. The walls are closing in, the air thick and suffocating. Your heart is pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what’s been shattered between you.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and leave the room, your steps quick and unsteady. You feel the eyes of the others on you as you push past them, but you don’t care. You can’t stay here—not in this room, not with them. Not with him. The hallway stretches out before you like a lifeline, and you move toward it, your movements frantic and desperate, as if putting distance between you and Five might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

You stumble into the hallway, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you need to get away. Away from the pain, away from the betrayal, away from the suffocating weight of it all. Your feet carry you down the corridor, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you fight to hold back the sobs threatening to break free.

You finally reach an empty room, but as you reach for the door, you realize with a jolt that it's the one you and Five share. The one where you slept beside him last night, completely unaware of the storm that was about to hit. The memories of your shared moments—whispered conversations, late-night confessions, stolen kisses—flood back, now tainted with a sense of betrayal and loss. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the doorknob, but then you push it open and slip inside, closing it behind you.

The moment the door clicks shut, you collapse against it, your legs giving out beneath you. You sink to the floor, your back pressed against the wood, and the tears finally come. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks, and a broken sob escapes your lips. The room is quiet, painfully so, and the sound of your cries seems to fill every corner, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold the pieces of yourself together, but it’s no use. The dam has broken, and the flood of emotion is too strong to contain. You bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You cry for the loss of trust, for the betrayal, for the love you thought was unbreakable. You cry for everything you’ve lost and everything you can never get back.

The bed looms in the corner of your vision, a cruel reminder of the intimacy you once shared with Five. It’s still unmade from this morning, the sheets tangled from where you both slept. You remember the warmth of his body beside you, the way his hand would always find yours in the dark. The way he would hold you when you were scared, whispering promises of forever. Promises that now feel like lies.

You lift your head, your eyes red and swollen from crying. You look around the room, and all you can see are the remnants of a life that no longer feels like yours. The books on the nightstand that you read together, the photos on the wall of happier times—all of it feels like a cruel joke, mocking the trust you placed in him. The room, once a sanctuary, now feels like a prison, filled with ghosts of a past that will never return.

As the tears flow, you realize something with a cold, hard clarity that cuts through the haze of your grief—nothing will ever be the same again. Not between you and Five, not between any of you. The damage is done, and there’s no going back. You feel a hollowness settle in your chest, a void where your love for him once lived. You wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again, or if this betrayal has shattered you beyond repair.

It’s been a few days since the cheaters blinked back to your timeline. Each day has dragged on, an endless cycle of numbness and pain. The initial wave of tears has subsided, replaced by a slow-burning anger that simmers just below the surface. How could he? How could she? The questions run through your mind on a loop, feeding the fire that burns inside you.

You try to go about your daily routine, but everything feels off, wrong. The house feels different—colder, emptier. The others tiptoe around you, unsure of what to say, how to act. They’ve seen the hurt in your eyes, the way you flinch whenever Five enters the room. They’ve heard the way your voice trembles when you speak, how your words are laced with a bitterness you can’t seem to shake.

And then there’s Five. He moves around the house like a ghost, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal. He tries to talk to you, but you can’t bear to look at him, let alone hear what he has to say. His words mean nothing now; they’re empty, hollow, like the promises he once made. You’ve built walls around yourself, high and impenetrable, to keep him out—to protect what little remains of your heart.

Your anger grows each day, festering like an open wound. It fuels you, giving you strength when the pain becomes too much to bear. It’s the only thing that keeps you going, that stops you from collapsing under the weight of it all. You cling to it, because without it, all you’re left with is the emptiness, the loss, the heartbreak.

We have been married for years, you think bitterly, and yet we never even once slept together, let alone him see me naked. How in the hell could he have fucked Lila over the span of seven years? The thought is a searing ache, cutting through the numbness that has settled over you. He always said we were too busy for such nonsense.

The double standard gnaws at you, a relentless, cruel irony. All those times he claimed there was no time for intimacy, no room for such personal moments because of their dangerous, high-stakes missions. And now you have to grapple with the fact that he found time for Lila—time to build a relationship, to share moments that were supposed to be sacred between the two of you. It feels like a betrayal of not just your love but the very essence of your marriage.

You remember the conversations where he would dismiss your need for closeness, brushing it aside with promises of better times to come. “We’re too busy,” he’d said, “We have a world to save.” Yet here was the proof that when it came to Lila, the rules were different. The lies, the excuses, all of it crashes down on you, leaving you gasping for breath.

The anger is raw, a jagged edge that you can’t seem to smooth over. It’s not just about what Five did; it’s about the betrayal of trust, the violation of promises made. The fact that he could share himself so completely with someone else, while withholding even the smallest gestures of intimacy from you, cuts deeper than any physical wound could.

You pace the empty room, the anger simmering, demanding an outlet. It’s a fire that consumes everything in its path, burning through your hope, your trust, your love. And it leaves behind a desolate landscape, a place where you’re forced to confront the stark reality of what’s been done.

How could he justify this? you wonder. How could he reconcile the intimacy he shared with Lila while claiming there was no time for us?

[runabout-river]

So, I have an old Fanfiction.net account where I posted my german fanfics ages ago, before I stopped writing fic for years. I picked it up again two years ago, this time in English and on Ao3.

About once a year though, I will get a message from FFN about a comment on an old fic or about a German Beta reading request. (I also got update notifications for the fics I followed for the longest time but those have stopped for 3 years or so.)

The latest beta request I got and accepted is this massive undertaking a German speaker took on translating english fics, and I'm helping out with that. The beta reading happens on googledocs but the communication happens on FFN and that made me feel nostalgic.

And I know FFN's quality had gone down and I know I had my reasons for going over to Ao3 but I thought 'Why Not' and decided to just make a new account on FFN and post my current fic there as well :D

To make this short and readable, the rest of the story is in list form:

exploring FFN's interface again was pretty nostalgic, especially when I uploaded my word document onto the site instead of having to copy/paste my fic onto it

The terms of service were just as I remembered them but only now did I fully realize how restrictive they are, especially the part about the publsihed authors who don't want fanfic of their work. Badly spelt or badly written fics in the grammar sense aren't allowed either and I think that aspect of FFN is following me until today

There was a waiting period for posting fic and other stuff, which is fine, every site has their own way to deal with spam

THEY DO NOT DEAL WITH THEIR SPAM

so I uploaded one of my oneshots just to see what would happen. It's for a newish anime (JJK) and while it is pretty far down their list in terms of works, it still has nearly 2k so I thought 'fine, could be worse'.

The next morning I wake up to 5 reviews and 6 PMs, ALL of it of the "I'll make art for your fic" spam variety except for one that looked like an AI summary of my fic.

I wasn't bothered by it because I deal with spam sometimes on Ao3 and I didn't have high expectations for that fandom on FFN anyway so I go to work deleting the comments and blocking the people who sent them to me

The blocking works even though its cumbersome

But I'll tell you how I nearly ripped my hair out trying to find the delete button for the spam reviews. I found the "mark as abuse/spam" button but I looked everywhere for the delete one. Just. To. Find. Out... they don't have one D:

so maybe I never realized (and/or forgot) that FFN doesn't allow you to delete reviews because I was writing in a niche language years ago, but that's... that's punitive. That goes so hard against my current fanfic sensibilities and climate of a hobby you engage in with fun and a relaxed attitude, but FFN already said at the beginning, they want to make a good writer out of you so you will check your grammar and spelling and you will listen to criticism you'll better hope is constructive.

Illuminating times these last few days

I'm not waiting for FFN staff to delete those spam "reviews", I'm waiting on more spam people to write to me so I can block them before I delete the fic and repost it. I'll put a few more oneshots there later, too, and see how it goes. I might give up on this new account alltogether as well.

And that was my adventure in venturing out to old places again. As a side note: if you get into old media you should visit FFN and look around there for fic, too. You won't find most of their collections anywhere else.

This looks like it would interest @olderthannetfic and @ao3commentoftheday