#that’s what I shouted into the void before writing this fic

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[rollercoasterwords]

i am once again asking people not to share my writing if u aren't going to credit me!

this is gonna be a bit of a rant i think. sorry but also i'm just fed up at this point lol

i've already. mentioned this or talked about it a few times on my blog but like. here's the ~official post~ i guess because over the past year i have lost count of the amount of times i have come across a post--usually on twitter or tiktok--that is quite literally just a direct quote from one of my stories copied and pasted without a single reference to where it came from or who wrote it.

so like, quick reminder:

this is not a quote.

"adding quotation marks to it does not make a quote."

"a quote is only a quote if you QUOTE THE PERSON WHO IT CAME FROM." - rae, @rollercoasterwords tumblr blog

does that make sense???? PLEASE tell me that makes sense. to make it even clearer:

if you are going to quote my writing in a tweet, please include AT LEAST my ao3 username (rollercoasterwords) and also, ideally, the fic title that you are quoting from. if you want to throw a link to whatever ur quoting from, great! but like. at the very least, all i am asking is that you add "quote" - @rollercoasterwords on ao3

if you are going to quote my writing in a tiktok, please include AT LEAST my ao3 username either clearly in the video itself or clearly at the very beginning of the caption, where anyone looking at the video will be able to see it immediately. please don't just put credit in a tag at the very end of a long caption where it isn't clear which tag is the fic title the quote is coming from; please don't just put it in a comment that not everyone will open and find; please don't just put it in a response to someone else's comment asking you what fic the quote is from. and please don't put no credit at all--i've seen tiktoks of my own writing without even quotation marks to let people know that it's a quote! like...at that point you're just plagiarizing my writing for...what? tiktok views? like. ok.

other writers might feel differently about how you credit them when quoting them, but for me--this is what i'm asking. just. at the very least, clearly include my ao3 username, so that people know who wrote the thing that you're sharing.

and like. i think there's this idea that you're doing me a favor by sharing my writing, in any capacity, on the internet. and at the risk of sounding harsh, i want to be very clear: that isn't true. if you are sharing my writing without any indication that it is even mine, then you are not doing me a favor. you are taking something that i worked very hard on and using it to get a few likes for yourself. i know that it's fanfiction, and i know that once i post something on the internet it is, to a certain extent, outside of my control. but like...this isn't something i'm profiting off of. it's not something i'm trying to get the most views possible on. the only reason i'm sharing it on ao3 is so that people who appreciate it can find it, and so that i can connect with those people who take the time out of their day to leave a comment or send a message saying "hey, i loved this, thanks for sharing it!" i would rather have only 5 people see my writing and like it and genuinely connect with me over it than have 5000 people see my writing and like it and never have a single one of them know who actually wrote it.

anyway. i'm not trying to sound ungrateful, y'know? i do truly, sincerely appreciate that there are people out there who have been moved enough by my writing to want to share it with others. but this isn't a numbers thing for me, ok? the amount of people looking at a thing i wrote is not what makes writing worth it to me, and i would truly, genuinely, just rather not have a single person share my writing on twitter or tiktok than have like. fifty people share it without crediting me.

[kirsctein]

I don’t really get it when ppl write Neil younger than he is for no reason??? Is it for shock factor?

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 20: Home /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N finally reunite.

Word Count: 3,9K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes: This chapter was a little bit hard to write cuz it's always difficult to say goodbye to a fic, I can't believe this is the last one. Thank you for all of your support in this, love you all.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

The sweet aroma of coffee filled her senses, luring her forward until she pushed the wooden door open. A simple kitchen welcomed her, with white cupboards and a marble countertop, near the stove, a female with blonde hair stood there, humming lowly some old lullaby, she poured the boiling water over the coffee powder and two mugs waited to be used by the side. 

“Sit down, it’s almost done.” She said and Y/N did as told, the old chair scraping against the floor, as she pulled it near the crackling fire, the heart of the old cabin, warming the entire space, making her feel cosy as she waited. 

She reached for the fire, heating her numb hands, the snow fell outside, the snowflakes softly getting rustled in the air. She sighed with relief, rubbing her palms together, she needed it, that light, that heat.

“You always loved the fire, drawn to it like a little moth, seeking its warmth.” Asterin said, placing the mug in front of her, she took it, nodding her head in appreciation, hearing as the older witch pulled her chair near her as she sipped on the perfect coffee, feeling her chest boil with heat. 

“The fire reminds me of you, you’ve always been the torch in the middle of the darkness.” Asterin chuckled and she basked in that sound, letting it fill the void in her heart, turning to the side, her sister looked like she always did, with a soft glow around her. Suddenly her face turned into a frown and she lifted her hand, wiping the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Why do you cry?” She inquired and Y/N lowered her head, not daring to look into those eyes. 

“Because I never got to say goodbye.” She mumbled and Asterin lifted her chin with a long finger.

“But I never left, did I? I was with you, right here.” She pointed to her own heart. “I'm alive in your memories, in your love for me, in the people we helped, in everything we left behind.”

“But this won't ever be enough, nothing is enough to ease the pain your absence brings me every waking moment.” Her voice was low, filled with hurt as she poured her heart out to her sister, she was never able to do that before. “Nothing is worth living for if you're not here.” 

“You found the only exception, the one that made all that pain, all the sacrifice you ever made worth it, the one worth enduring everything for his love.” She pointed out and Y/N sobbed harder.

“And what for? To never see him again, no matter how much I keep fighting, I always lose in the end.” 

“You didn't have to come back…” Y/N snorted. 

“I had to, because that's what is expected of me, I have a role to fulfil. I have to be like you.” She sounded so tired.

“It pains me to hear this, that they did the same thing to you. I left the love of my life, the life I wanted behind because I was too blind to see past other people's expectations, a warrior, a weapon, destruction, death, war. It makes me sad that you made the same mistake, no one wants you to be me, you don't have to, you're your own person and if anything, you shouldn't be like me, you shouldn't give up on the love you deserve so much, the happiness you would have by his side.”

“It's too late for me now.” She quietly lowered her head again. 

“It is not, you still have time, don't let your inner demons control you, what happened was meant to happen, you couldn't have stopped any of us, we made that choice and it isn't your fault.”

“I FAILED YOU, I SHOULD'VE PROTECTED YOU THE SAME WAY YOU PROTECTED ME.” she shouted, her voice echoing on the walls of the cabin. 

“You never failed me, not when you chose me as your family, not when you brought my daughter here, giving her the dignity and love I couldn't, not when you followed me to war, choosing a better world, not when you ended up almost dead fighting for what was right, I couldn't be more proud of you than I am.”

Her words hurt, old wounds open up ,bleeding profusely, causing so much pain that she didn't know if she could take it, why did it have to be like this? She sipped on the forgotten coffee, trying to focus on something else to calm herself down. 

“I had to die to finally live the love I always craved, I had to be buried in the ground to finally be free to be with my family. Please, don't convince yourself that you have to do this as well. You found something truly unique, don't let that go to waste, don't miss your chance. Not again.” Asterin begged.

“And what if I already lost it?” Asterin grabbed her hand, pulling It to her chest, and she could feel the beating heart against her palm, she didn't know how this was possible. 

“The gods work in mysterious ways and love always finds a way, it's not over yet.” She raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“What do you mean?” She inquired.

“Trust your heart, allow it to guide you back to what is yours, back to him.” Asterin advised and she nodded her head. “We don't have much time left, please never forget that I love you.” 

“Fuck, I miss you so much.” She leaned against Asterin's shoulder. 

“One day we'll be together again,but that day is not now Please, tell Manon that we're proud of her, just as much as we're proud of you.” Asterin said, getting up, Y/N followed her, the older witch wrapped her arms around her and she sniffled the sweet scent of Asterin, the comfort she desperately sought, finally making itself known.

“I love you.” She whispered. 

“Me too, with all my heart.” Asterin replied, departing the hug and walking outside, where a male with a baby in his arms waited for her and eleven fierce warriors waved at Y/N. Her heart squeezed at the sight, waving back and yelling at them that she missed her friends.

She gasped when she woke, wiping the waterfall of tears that fell down her cheeks, she rested her hand on her chest, feeling her beating heart. She was alive, and she was going to live like she wanted, if her chance was really coming back to her, she would grab it with her claws and teeth and never let him go again. 

Later that morning, she met a worried Fenrys, who definitely noticed how her face seemed lighter, like the darkness that clouded her life was finally dissipating, he had blinked three times to which she blinked one time, enough to appease him. He had come to her, hugging her and asking if she was ready to go to Orynth, for the ball in two days. 

She had nodded, getting her backpack and helping him up Meraxes’ back, riding her dear wyvern with the rest of Queen Manon's caravan towards Terrasen, where the pull on her chest urged her to. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How long are you guys locking us in?” Nesta bumped her metal plate against the iron bars, their weapons being taken away from them when the tall warrior had “gently” escorted them to the cell they were currently locked in. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you guys locked, we're waiting for our queen to decide how to deal with this situation.” The kind female spoke as she emerged from the shadows, her hair braided away from her face, her brown eyes scanned their figures up and down, each one of them kept in different cells, so they wouldn’t try to do anything. 

“Is she coming?” Elain asked and the female, Elide, turned to her, smiling gracefully.

“She’ll join us this afternoon, I’m here to offer you all a bath and a fresh pair of clothes if you want it.” She offered and Elain was the first to raise her hand. 

“Please, I feel disgusting.” Elide nodded and went to her cell, freeing her and taking Elain with her. By the door, the tall male watched them with a sneer, escorting the small female back to where they came from. 

It took two days since they arrived, in a place called Perranth, for them to be captured, it was too late when they realised that winged people weren’t that common there and everyone was staring at them as they walked in the city, leading to their later imprisonment, by the hands of the Lord of Perranth himself, Lord Lorcan. 

They were being kept in a dungeon, understanding why they were there but pissed anyway for allowing themselves to be taken by these people. One hour and a half later they were all clean and in fresh clothes, stuffing their mouths with delicious food and wine, being accompanied by Elide and her mate.  

“This tastes delicious, my lady. Thank you.” Lucien bowed his head towards the lady of the house and Elide smiled at him. 

“When is your queen arriving?” Azriel tried again, to which Lorcan replied. 

“My queen will arrive whenever she deems fit, be grateful that we’re allowing you to join us.” Elide felt her cheeks getting hot at his tone and rested a warm hand around his arm.

“You hear that, Buzzard? He called me his queen.” A blonde female said as she entered the room, hands on her hips as she eyed the Lord and made kissing noises to him, to which he just rolled his eyes.

Behind her, another tall fae slowly walked, white hair and a tattoo on the side of his face, he was beautiful, in a way that they would think of him as a god, but prettier than him, was how he looked at her, like she was the only female that walked on this earth, his eyes shining with pride and undeniably love, he kept a respectful distance but they knew he would give his life  to protect her if he had to. Nesta sniffled the air, mates, just like Elide and Lorcan. 

“He’s finally warming up to you, Fireheart.” The male gave Lorcan’s shoulder a tight squeeze prompting him to groan. Elide was already up, greeting the female with a hug. 

“Please join us, are you hungry, Aelin?” She pulled a chair for Aelin. “We have chocolate cake.” The female looked at Elide, her blue eyes sparkling with anxiety and she nodded her head. 

“You know how to win me over.” She pinched Elide’s cheek and the smaller female signalled for the maid to bring the dessert, their plates getting taken away. She turned to them, her eyes locking with Nesta’s, but she didn’t lower her head. “You must be our guests for the day, I’m Aelin Ashryver Withethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.” It was purely out of fear of losing their necks that they bowed to her. “That's Rowan, King of Terrasen.”

“What brings you all here? We have never seen anyone like you.” Rowan pointed towards  the two illyrians, their wings scraping against the floor in those normal chairs. Aelin kept looking at them. 

“We’re looking for someone.” Lucien took the lead, trying to appear friendly. Aelin smiled.

“She promised we wouldn’t have to worry about any of you because you had no interest in our world, yet, here you are, in my Kingdom.” She pointed her fork at them, before dipping it in the chocolate frosting. 

“We have no ill intentions, we just want my mate back.” Azriel said and they all looked at him surprised. 

“She didn’t mention a mate.” Rowan pointed out and Azriel felt his heart shatter a bit, was she embarrassed of being his mate? Why wouldn’t she say anything about him if she talked about them?

“It’s what a good ruler would do, protect their people from any harm, we understand.” Cassian said, giving them a smile to which Elide returned. 

“Well, after everything she went through, I guess she wanted to keep this pain to herself.” Aelin concluded. “We apologise for keeping you all as prisoners but you must understand that we’ve been through many things and we can’t let our guards down.”

“You all came here, without knowing how it would be, to see Y/N?” Elide asked and Azriel nodded.

“I would go to Hell for her. Elain saw her, and I couldn’t bear being away from her, knowing she needs me.” His shadows moved faster at the mention of her.

“I’m sure she will appreciate seeing you all there.” Aelin spoke, taking the last bite of cake towards her mouth. She got up and Gestured towards them and towards the door. “I’m hosting a ball in Orynth in two days, you are my special guests, Y/N is a dear friend of mine and I want her to be happy, let’s go.”

“We would like to have our things back.” Nesta said as she got up. Lorcan ordered a male to grab their things and soon they were ready to leave, following the Queen and her King in horseback towards Orynth, where Azriel would finally see her again. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N smoothed the fabric of her deep green dress, with a flowy skirt, a crossed neckline, a golden corset hugging her frame and long sleeves, she looked beautiful, feeling the winds on her skin. Behind her back, Godslayer looked like an adornment complimenting her figure, but she still had to escort her queen, and she would be prepared. 

“Ready to go?” Fenrys asked from the door, his suit was a different shade of green, all matching the Terrasen official colour palette. She nodded, checking herself once more, before accepting his extended hand. 

They walked with the other witches, Manon and Aelin had asked him to stay with her so she wouldn’t be left alone, they were still worried about her after the failed attempt. She hated being babysitted but she understood their reasoning, deciding not to argue against them, knowing it was a lost battle. 

The ballroom was filled to the brim with people, she spotted Aelin at the throne, Lysandra by her side as the two giggled about something, and crossing the ocean of people, King Dorian Havilliard made his way towards Manon, bowing to her before placing a kiss to he back of her hand, whisking her away to the dancefloor. 

“We knew this would happen, let’s just grab something to drink, you don’t have to be her guard all night.” Fenrys whispered in her ear, guiding her with a hand on her back, towards the food filled table.  

Y/N sipped on the fizzy drink he offered her, a weird sensation of being watched as she did so, her eyes scanned the crowd, spotting in the middle of the dance floor, a couple dancing, huge wings poking from in between the people as he spun her in the air, her hair cascading down her back in a straight line, fierce blue eyes meeting hers in a millisecond. She could only be imagining things, there was no way those were Cassian and Nesta, not here at least.

Through the night, she kept glancing at the couple that looked like them so much, she also spotted a male with his long red hair in a ponytail, hand in hand with a female with flowers on her hair, and here and there she decided that she indeed was going insane, her friends wouldn’t ever cross the border for her, they weren’t there and she would never see them again.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more private? This is starting to bore me.” Fenrys spoke against the shell of her ear, and she nodded. 

He escorted them through the empty halls of the castle, stopping in front of a door, pushing it open and urging her inside, telling her to wait for him while he fetched something for them to drink. Fenrys closed the door rather quickly, leaving her alone in the darkness. A cold breeze danced on her skin, she swore it was shadows dancing against her, creating goosebumps whenever they touched her. 

And as a light appeared, illuminating the room, she saw Azriel sitting on a chair, her knees almost faltering as she drank him in, hair falling to his forehead in loose curls, a suit matching her dress, his wings standing proudly behind him. She couldn’t control herself, afraid this was some sort of sick joke her brain was pulling in her, she jumped in his lap. 

Feeling him underneath her fingertips, looking at him so closely, feeling his warmth and his scent, it all told her that it was real and he was there for her, the chance Asterin promised in a dream, right in front of her now. She glued her lips to his, kissing him with all the longing she felt in those months apart, her chest almost bursting open with all the emotions coming from the bond, humming with life after being reunited with her mate.

“You came.” She breathed as they departed, resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed, just feeling him there. 

“I promised to respect your decision, but I couldn't live without you. You have to come back to our home.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ll build you a cabin with the garden and the books you dreamed about, I’ll learn how to take care of sheeps so Meraxes will always have fresh food, I’ll make all of your dreams happen, I’m yours for you to use whoever you please.” 

She leaned in again, kissing him repeatedly, her heart beating so loudly that she knew it reverberated throughout the whole room. She traced his features, exactly like she remembered him to be. 

“I love you, words are never going to be enough to express how much I waited for you, for the love of my life. I want to marry you, call you my husband, have our children running around and driving us insane. I want to grow old with you, spend every single moment of my life by your side until the gods decide that it is enough.” Azriel and her were crying now, while they smiled at each other.

“I’ll give you the greatest wedding ever, I’ll climb Ramiel and yell to the world to hear that you’re mine, and I’m yours, until The Mother decides that it is enough.” Someone knocked on the door and he rolled his eyes. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Elain, Lucien, Nesta and Cassian at the other side, squeezing themselves in and pulling her to greet her. She passed from hug to hug, talk to talk, hearing how they all went against Rhysand’s orders and jumped to Erilea to get them back, without realising, she was crying harder at that sight.

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” She sobbed.

“You’re family, we don’t leave family behind.” Cassian said, pulling them all for a hug. “Are you ready to go home?” 

“More than ever.” She assured them. 

“But don’t think that you’re leaving without saying goodbye.” Manon said from the door, behind her all of her friends waited for her. “Asterin would be really proud of you.” Manon pulled her for a hug.

“She is, and she’s proud of you too, all of them are, they wanted you to know that.” She whispered into her queen’s ear and Manon felt her heart squeeze at her words, she could just hope that her Thirteen were proud of her, after all, all that Manon did was for them.

“Promise you will visit.” Lysandra said, embracing her. 

“I will, we can always find a way to forge a second key.” She winked, embracing all of her friends. Aedion, Dorian, Lorcan, Elide, Rowan and then Aelin.

“If you change your mind, we’re all here waiting for you, but remember, you deserve to be happy, never forget that.” She cried on Aelin's shoulder and they all smiled at her. 

“Don’t ever forget me.” Fenrys said, approaching her after she let Aelin go.

“How could I ever forget you? You saved me.” She looked at him, blinking four times, to which he replied, blinking four times too. “I love you Fenrys, thank you for being my friend.” The male hugged her again.

“I’ll miss you, but please, be happy. I love you.” She nodded, promising that she would.

That night, after she said goodbye to all of them, they walked the group outside the walls of Orynth, giving her one last chance of looking at the Thirteen, her eyes remaining on Asterin’s figure a little while longer. She would make Asterin proud by living her life as she pleased, being happy and giving a chance to live the love she wanted so much. 

She waved them goodbye, Nesta opened the gate, the slit in the sky. Meraxes roared loudly, being the first one to cross, followed by Elain and Lucien, then Cassian and Nesta, and finally, after looking for the land she called home for a century, she grabbed Azriel’s hand a little bit tighter as the crossed towards Prythian again, falling in between the world until they landed on top of Ramiel.

“You should rest, we have Valkyrie training tomorrow morning.” Nesta warned, being carried by Cassian towards what she could only presume was Velaris. 

“And we have gardening lessons at noon.” Elain winked, disappearing with Lucien as he winnowed away, leaving her and Azriel alone.

“I’m glad to have you back.” He said, the winds roaring around them.

“I’m glad to be back.” She replied, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

“I agree with the girls, we should head home and rest.” Azriel spoke, urging her towards Meraxes, watching as she climbed the wyvern’s leg, using his wings to get on top, strapping himself behind her, resting his head on top of her shoulder. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“A wedding?” She gasped, using the reins to make Meraxes fly.

“Yes, a big wedding, big enough to accommodate you friends, I’m sure Aelin would be pissed if she missed it, she was eager to help Nesta with the plan to get us back together, I’m sure those two will find a way to make a new key just so they can talk about books.” He laughed.

“Bringing them here?” The winds whipped her hair around.

“We may have made a deal of friendship, visiting each other’s world whenever we want, just because you chose me, doesn’t mean you have to stay away from them.” 

“You didn’t have to.” She whispered, her words being carried with the wind.

“I know it would make you sad not to see them, and I want to make sure that you don’t have sad days anymore, just happiness.” He kissed her neck and she blushed. 

“No more sad days then. I love you Azriel.”

“And I love you much more than you can even imagine.” She smiled at him, love filling the cracks in her heart, finally making her a whole person again, to never be broken and damaged again, she would never be like she was before, she would never feel small or afraid in her life. After all, her name was Y/N Blackbeak and she would not be afraid. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[ybklix]

favorite crime

♡ pairing: bang chan x fem!character

⮑ intro

⋆cw: none ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. fic based on 2004.

masterlist here

a/n: help, i’m not really sure how that store used to be like since I’m writing it to romanticize the early 2000’s ok

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 816

Excluding the part about living in an insignificant town and still attending school… it’s not relevant. None of that matters or will matter once I manage to get out of here… and finally become someone else among the millions of people in the city, amidst the hustle and bustle, broken hopes, dreams hanging by a thread, and completely void happiness, just there, I’ll be there. Living, I guess. Breathing in the smoke from some neighbor’s cigarette and questioning if this is my path, since clearly the one I’m on now is not pleasing at all.

I managed to stop my thoughts for a few seconds; my mother was shouting from the bathroom, repeatedly asking me to check on a delivery the courier had just made. It was my last weekend before a new school year, and surprisingly, the weather had remained warm, so I was only wearing comfortable clothes. August had gone by, soon it would be September, and my favorite season would finally begin.

I opened the door to find an ostentatious box with the IKEA logo engraved on it. I had no idea if my mother had ordered some new furniture, so just as I was about to grab it and drag it, I realized the big mistake. The label didn’t bear any familiar name, and in fact, the address indicated the next-door neighbor’s number. Minho Lee, 143. I grimaced, unsure if I should be the one to report the mistake, or just not bother and move the box in front of his door, hoping he’d open it.

Considering, it was strange for this kind of confusion as deliveries like this always went to the reception where they would then call the owner just to make sure if it’s okay to bring it up or leave it right there downstairs.

Minho Lee… I knew they moved into the next-door apartment almost over a month ago, but honestly, I never cared to know who lived around me. I dragged the heavy box a few meters to his door and simply knocked on his door out of impulse, without hope of any response or desire to stay there to give any explanation. But the response was quicker than I thought because, as soon as I knocked, almost instantly, the neighbor appeared, dressed comfortably all in black, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

He had a look of confusion on his face. I remained for 3 seconds not knowing what to do until I managed to say:

“This appeared at our door, but I think it’s yours.”

The Asian-looking guy looked even more confused for about two more seconds until he managed to read that my gaze was directed towards the ground, and it wasn’t until he noticed that, his demeanor could relax. He read the name on the label and immediately thanked me.

“Yes, it’s here, thank you.”

I gave a smile with nothing else to say and headed for the doorknob of my door as I watched him out of the corner of my eye bending down to pick up his belongings. And finally, I quickly entered, realizing the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed, as if that action could erase how uncomfortable it was for me to realize that I had a considerably attractive neighbor. His aura, his appearance… I wished to study him a little more, but really there was nothing more to say, nothing more than, here’s your box. I bit my lip wondering if I should have spoken and started a conversation with him by saying the typical nonsense like “this mistake had never happened before… the courier must be new, just like you, since when did you move…” But precisely my outfit, relaxed and messy, and my appearance… if only I had a little more luck next time, I wouldn’t think of wasting it like this.

Minho Lee looked young, like a recent college graduate, or maybe someone in their final year. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I thought about how ridiculous it was to start creating more ideas about him. Checking the clock, I smiled realizing it was my working hour and that I could leave this apartment without excuse.

After minutes, I left; grabbing my apartment keys and without saying a word to my mother, as if we didn’t have the great freedom to know or communicate our next whereabouts. Or just any kind of communication. Living with her was strange.

The building’s elevator stopped working two weeks ago and still seems to be under repair, so I hurry down the stairs until I reach the main hall, where surprisingly, I manage to recognize whose broad back was in front of me, also leaving the building, but heading in a different direction.

Part of me felt the need to follow him just out of sheer curiosity, and the fact of feeling excitement studying a new individual was… indescribable. Who is Minho Lee.

TWO

word count: 2k

My whole world sadly revolved around an idiot who never knew how to love me, care for me, and protect me the way I would have wanted. The way a sensible father would care for his only daughter. Or at least that’s what everyone reminds me every year in every damn school; always asking about my father, wondering what his next book would be about… but I can’t even speak out loud about him, sometimes I wish he were a stranger, but I have the greatest fear that… what little I know about him encompasses important concepts of who or how he really is.

I was the only daughter of a well-known artist, the acclaimed writer Henry Waldrop, whose books were such a great success that each of them —almost all of them— were adapted in Hollywood, on the big screens, with actors of the caliber of Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, working with promising directors like Mendes and Fincher, winners of important awards, with Henry himself writing his own scripts on a couple of occasions, nothing took him out of Los Angeles. Waldrop has been hailed as the greatest American speaking in the world of literature since Fitzgerald and Hemingway by the Times, countless interviews in the New Yorker, and among other accolades.

He has been called everything; but I will never be able to call him dad again, not since I was 7 years old.

My relationship with him is cold, distant, and almost nonexistent; I always register my name as Calliope Moore, my mother’s last name, hoping not to be recognized in this small town, however, I can’t change it at school, for the moment I can’t change it legally either; so for now, I remain hidden like this. Meanwhile, in a part-time job after school and on weekends.

I was a child who could be considered naive and sweet, at least until I was 6 years old. Then I realized many things, that my father loved fame and excess in meaningless material things more than his family, that his writing is immature and difficult to read, never matured, I never understood why I had to do it before him, unfairly, or worse, do it for him. Despite that, I became my worst enemy, I became an admirer, not of him, but of the artistic world in which he lived; my only memories with him were his huge literary collection, his love for art and cinema; he had me captive every year of my life, I spent hours sitting in his library reading instead of having a conversation with him; I chose something from his extensive collection of movies to watch on DVD. All this on his forced weekends when he legally had to see me. And worst of all, I found refuge in letters… vaguely considering myself a writer; like he is.

I know there’s the silly idea that he really cares about me just because he’s my father, that everything can be fixed if only I would talk to him… but I wish it were that simple, the reason I preferred to be locked in his office was because I saw too many things I should never have seen, situations that a loving and careful father would ensure none of his children know about, I cried seeing women enter his apartment, thinking it wasn’t the kind of love he should give to mother, I didn’t understand why my friends at school could introduce them and I just heard ‘oh, he’s something like a celebrity, he’s just busy. Maybe someday you’ll be like him.’

I sigh and look from afar at the store manager smiling at me, it’s funny to consider he has a little crush on me and I can easily manipulate him. In a matter of seconds, the loud sound of the phone interrupts my daily thoughts about complaining about life.

“Blockbus-”

“Callie, it’s Sarah, can you urgently cover for me for two hours? I have something very important at university.”

I rolled my eyes at being interrupted and at hearing my coworker’s needy voice on the other end of the line, I didn’t need details, but I was surprised by the quick passage of time, so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and I had no idea.

“All right.”

“Thank you, I owe you one, Cal.”

I slid over the counter, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, bored. Tim, the manager, who is about 8 years older than me, took care of putting on music; I really didn’t have a specific plan for this Saturday, but two more hours of time were just time.

To kill the time, I moved around here and there, sorted movies, checked boxes of new tapes, read each synopsis, sorted each genre, and finally went to tidy up a bit under the main counter; customers came in sporadically and this was the next customer I heard since an hour ago. Tim greeted them with a good evening. I assumed they had to go between the aisles of shelves to pick out their movie or movies to rent, so I didn’t pay attention to them as I continued cleaning up a bit.

Indeed, it took about 10 minutes, when I heard the plastic fall onto the cold wood of the checkout counter and a male voice say, referring to Tim, “Are you checking out over here?”

“No, um, Callie-”

Tim spoke and before he finished his sentence, I hurried to stand up, finding the guy from this morning next to me, Minho Lee. He was still dressed in black, now with jeans, he was wearing bracelets on his left hand now. For a second, I couldn’t say anything, other than meet his gaze, but I immediately regained my composure and gave him a warm smile, but I feared that this time, for him, this client, it was a genuine one.

His gaze was tender for a second as he seemed slightly surprised by the sudden way I unexpectedly ‘sprung’ from the floor; then he softened it and kept eye contact with me.

“I’m here to return these,” he spoke, dragging a stack of 3 movies “and I’ll take these” he pointed to the stack on the right.

My gaze lowered to his hands on the tapes and on the DVDs themselves. I took the products to be returned and inspected each one of them: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Kill Bill, A Tale of Two Sisters. I gave him a smile, clearly judging, at least it was the fun part of the job; seeing what kind of person you were based on your taste in movies. And for Minho… there was no relation, a romantic comedy, Kill Bill, just Kill Bill and… a foreign psychological horror movie, judging by its cover, it seemed to be from Asia. If I weren’t trying to convince myself that someone considerably attractive like him is single, I would say the romantic comedy is something he would watch with some romantic date without a doubt.

“Name?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning disinterest as if I hadn’t seen him a couple of hours ago.

Judging by his look, it was clear that in some way he also recognized me.

“Under the name of Minho Lee, with an H between the N and O” he replied.

This Charming Man by The Smiths started playing and I noticed a slight movement of his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the melody; all while I typed his name into the computer. I was impressed by his profile, apparently, he’s a frequent customer judging by the long list of movies. He even has a membership, wow, I had never seen him here.

“Would you like the standard two-week rental?”

He nodded. I registered the new movies to rent, not without looking at them in detail: a foreign horror movie, Korean-looking, The Wig, Dracula 2, god, I heard the movie was terrible and Scream 2. I guess he wanted to watch only one genre for the moment, no more romantic comedies.

“That will be 33 dollars… 23 with the membership discount.”

“Thank you… Calliope” he read the tag with my name on my blue vest.

The story of my name is a bit funny, my father, a man without emotional responsibility whose heart was always incapable of falling in love, had his philosophy around the Greek mythology of the 9 muses, which is ironic considering the number of lovers he had, and, from what I heard, how much he promised each of the women he got involved with, that they were his muse and inspiration. My name comes from the muse of music, as he met my mother in college and that was her career at the time. My mother’s dream was always to direct orchestras, play the cello at important events in New York… but then I was born.

It would be a nice and moving story if any of my parents appreciated each other, but my mother made sure to make it clear how much she detested him and remind me what she could have done if I had never been born.

During that time, my father was working as an apprentice to a professor and substitute professor at the university. A literary cliché that inspired one of his books, by the way. Each page of the encounters with my mother severely altered, as she exclaimed, that never happened… if only things had been like that… Anyway, the book turned into a movie and considered a classic romance of the nineties. It was funny when someone came to rent it, since for now, I work at the town’s Blockbuster.

Anyway, my father had this immature belief that since I was the one growing in my mother’s womb, I would be the greatest force and source of inspiration for her, a muse. Sometimes I suppose my mother ended up hating me. She had to raise me and support Henry in his dream as a writer. I grew up and live in the same place as him; a wealthy area in northern New York state; where my teachers, absorbed by his work, expected innate talent from me.

But the pressure isn’t always on me. I have an older brother, a half-brother, named Apollo —a bit strange considering that literature says he was married to Calliope or something like that—; who likes to be recognized as Henry Waldrop’s legitimate son, with his gallery in Manhattan; however, he’s nothing more than another pretentious wannabe from the Upper East Side.

After Minho left, I pretended to close his membership and register the returned movies, but I was just snooping around, his birthday, October 25th, he’s 10 years older than me, he really doesn’t seem like it; it must be his Asian genetics I guess. His address, registered in the same building as mine, his email, his phone, and… the record of his rentals.

Not even 10 minutes passed when the sound of the door caught my attention again, Sarah had arrived, I didn’t notice the time so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and had no idea.

Sarah came in with a smile, dropping her bag on the counter making noise as she arrived.

“I’m here.”

I quickly closed the computer information and let out a jokingly annoyed sigh at her presence.

“Well, there are only two hours left until closing.”

“Three, we close later on Saturdays.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and took off my blue vest, walking to the other side of the counter, ready to grab my things and leave.

“Is this…?” Sarah mentioned, catching my attention.

I turned to look at her and she was holding the returned movies from a few moments ago. I forgot to organize them.

“Oh, let me-”

“Oh no” she interrupted me “Kill Bill and A Tale of Two Sisters, Korean horror? Did the handsome guy already stopped by?”

I frowned.

“He just left” said Tim.

Sarah made a disappointed face.

“I guess he comes often” I said.

“Of course, every Saturday at seven during my shift.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“He’s definitely coming to see you, Sarah” Tim added, amused.

Sarah just smiled. I let out a reluctant laugh.

“I’m leaving” I announced.

“Wait, Callie, aren’t you going to organize them…” I heard Sarah exclaim just before leaving through the door, but I decided to ignore her.

She can do it alone. Maybe Minho can come back to help her.

[ladymirdan]

Warning, fandom rant.

I was gonna piggyback ride off Tagedezorns post about falling out of love with the fandom.

Dont get me wrong, I still fucking LOVE 40k.

Im having a great time painting my minis, reading the lore, reading and talking with the BL authors on twitter or talking the ears off the staff in my local GW (don't worry, they love it, and they have some fantastic HC’s too!)

But the rest of it is sadly losing its appeal for me as well, and it saddens me to see other fan artists or writers feeling the same, I thought it was just me.

When I first started to become active in the shipping fandom about a couple of years ago it was fantastic. I felt so welcome and wanted, I had never gotten a reception like that in any fandom before. I even faced my fear and started writing fanfiction, and people seemed to love it.

But the last months/year it feels like it's all gone. As if Tumblr has died, it feels like I'm shouting into the void. (I have a few people who still interact on my posts and I see you and I love you). But I have eightdoubled my followers last year, but that hasn't resulted in any more interaction, other than a few more likes. But to be fair, likes does nothing.

Im not an influencer or a content creator, and I have zero aspirations to become one. That is why I stopped doing tiktoks. I do not want to chase trends or algorithms, I want to be unhinged about my blorbos and see people being unhinged about their blorbos in turn.

I love the intense passion fandom can have, even when it's not a character I'm personally into.

I really don't want Tumblr to die. I have tried Discord and it was the most alienating and disheartening experience I've had since like high school.

When I first tried it out it was soo much fun, but as time went on, more and more people who seemed to like me stopped posting on there, and more and more whenever I posted I just got straight up ignored.

I could post in a channel that had been dead for weeks, and suddenly people started posting about other things, everyone ignoring what I wrote. If it happened once or twice I wouldn't have bothered, but a dozen or more times? It just fucking sucks. I noticed how it started affecting my mental health, trying to reach out and talk to people, but just being talked around and over. So I just stopped posting.

If someone doesn't like me on Tumblr I won't notice or get sad, but seeing it happen in real-time just fucking sucks.

And also, on Tumblr there is always the off chance that your post gets necromanced. That just doesn't happen on Discord.

And another thing that has happened a lot is I write a fic or a Tumblr post. It gets zero interaction, and I'm like “oh I guess no one is interested about that,” and then I see that someone has just reposted my fic/post in a discord and people are geeking out over it over there.

I'm not a paid artist/writer. I do what I do because I want to geek out over something, preferably with someone else. But I effectively become removed from my art. People are discussing it, just not with me.

Dealing with being unliked as a person fucking sucks. Especially when it's supposed to be your hobby-fun-time. And it is making me not want to post stuff anymore.

[olderthannetfic]

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

--

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

[trulybetty]

Drip | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 1,243 Warnings: References, but doesn't reference, events in TLOU2, so if you want to avoid conversation around that and comments - might be best to pass on this. Summary: I've got nothing - just me and my feels. AO3: Linked

A/N: This piece or whatever you want to call it leaves it up to interpretation if Joel came back from golfing or not. Not sure I'll go anywhere with this - but I wanted to get it out of my head. Don't think it'll get much traction, but one of those fics that I wanted to write for myself.

Drip.

You can hear Maria arguing with Tommy. You can’t make out what’s being said, but you can hear them going back and forth.

The water is getting cold, but you can’t bring yourself to get out of the bathtub. 

It’s been a long time since it was just you. A long time since you’ve been on your own here. You’re not sure how it works, being alone, anymore. Maria had told you you weren’t truly alone, you’d looked at her confused. She told you that you had herself and Tommy. But the sentiment hadn’t been as comforting as she had intended it to be.

The tap is dripping, he was supposed to fix it. 

There’s a slam of a door somewhere in the house. Your head is too full of static to figure out where it’s coming from. There are steps on the stairs, hurried and angry. You know who they belong to, but you don’t care because they are not the slow, comforting thumps that bring you peace at the end of the night.

The room is getting cold, the winter wind is seeping through the window you left open. The flimsy curtains that had once served a decorative purpose for the previous owners, fluttered with the breeze. 

The bang of an open hand on the door is resounding in the still of the bathroom, where the only noise is the constant drip, drip, drip of the leaking tap. Maria and Tommy’s voices are clearer now. They’re still arguing, but their raised voices are now directed towards the person banging at the door.

The tepid bathwater covers your face as you lower yourself into the tub, inching closer and closer to overflowing. As close to spilling over the edge as you are to the point of breakdown. 

Your name is being shouted now. But it’s distorted under the water almost like it belongs to someone else.

You wish this was all for someone else. 

You squeeze your eyes closed tight before you resurface.

All three voices are arguing now. 

None of them are from people you want to hear from, but at least the banging of the door has stopped. 

The pile of clothes next to the laundry basket is still there, just as it had been that morning. You want to go back to a time when the only problem within the four walls of that house was getting those clothes into the laundry basket instead of next to it, without argument.

The tap is still dripping. 

Your bruised and bloodied knuckles still throbbed. You’d put up a good fight when they’d tried to take you away, you hadn’t wanted to leave. They'd said it was for the best, you needed to rest. You’d screamed until your voice was hoarse, insisting he shouldn’t be alone, you'd begged and pleaded. Maria had promised you that he wouldn’t be, but here she was with Tommy; how did she know that he wasn't alone?

You haven’t cried. 

The tap. Is still. Dripping. 

He was supposed to fix it. 

When you submerge your head underwater again it’s not the slow slide it was before into the peace the water brought you. No this was in anger, water spilled over the edges of the bathtub, you gripped the ceramic forcing yourself down and under you screamed.

It's a cry of desperation that echoes only in the void beneath the surface. Your thoughts are a torrent of confusion, anger, and loss. 

Finally, you resurface, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The water splashes around you, droplets clinging to your skin. The house is silent now, the voices gone. You don't know if they've moved elsewhere or if they've just stopped talking.

They were arguing about you, about him, about what to do next. It's all a jumble, and you can't make sense of any of it. 

Slowly, you step out of the bath, the chill of the air on your wet skin. You look at yourself in the mirror, it's a stranger staring back at you. Hollow bloodshot eyes and shoulders hunched over as if you're carrying some unseen weight. You wrap a towel around yourself before you rest both hands firmly against both sides of the sink as if it's all that keeps you standing.

The water runs off of you dripping into the sink in chorus with the drip from the bathtub. 

The silence is so fucking loud and you don’t know what to do. 

It’s fight or flight but you’re rooted to the floor in anxiety over what to do next.

The house, your house, which once held the promise of safety, now feels like a fragile shell and you feel open and exposed and the cold from the window is seeping into your bones. Your chest is tight, and a stab of pain at the side of your head reminds you that the headache you had earlier is returning. The damn tap keeps dripping and you cannot decide if you want to run head first to what’s on the other side of the door or submerge yourself back into the water.

The crescendo of intrusive thoughts peaks and your ears pop, your mind is suddenly quiet and it scares you. Your heart hammers in your chest, the abrupt silence amplifying the chill of dread that crawls up your spine that has nothing to do with the open window.

Slowly you step away from the sink, your body trembling, your hand pauses on the doorknob before you tentatively open the door.

The moment you step out of the bathroom you regret it instantly. 

The room is empty. However the bed is still unmade, the sheets are still dishevelled from the morning. 

It's like a freeze-frame of another life, a cruel reminder of the morning's normalcy. You can almost hear the whispered conversation you’d had despite being the only ones in the house, feel the warmth of his skin despite the wintry chill the room clung on to, the soft press of a kiss. It feels like it's from another lifetime, yet it was only hours ago.

You stumble towards the dresser, your hands grappling with the fabric of his shirt, still strewn across the chair from the morning. It smells like him. You pull it over your head, the fabric a comfort against your skin. It's a small solace.

The house creaks, and for a moment, you're not alone. You can hear the echoes of guitar strings, see the flash of smiles, feel the press of hands.

You sink onto the bed, your hands clutching at the sheets. The tears that you still have yet to cry threaten to spill. There’s a dam holding back a river of sorrow, grief, and so much anger, with nowhere or no one to direct it at. You feel broken and lost, adrift in a world that changed in an instant.

The walls of the house feel like they’re closing in on you, and the life you once knew is unravelling at the seams too quickly for you to hold on.

Your body shakes with sobs that won't come, tears that refuse to fall. 

The room is darkening as night creeps further in, the world outside moving on as yours has stopped.

The bathroom door is open.

You can still hear it.

He was supposed to fix it. He was supposed to be there.

But he's not, and the tap is still dripping.

[loki-g0dofstories]

I want to write a multi chapter Loki fic but I don't know if there will be any interest it, so I wrote an opener. I hope it is enjoyable.

At the End of Time

Loki sits alone on his throne guarding the timelines when an unexpected visitor arrives.

Loki x Fem!Agent!Reader

No TW just yet since this an opener. This introduction is a little over 500 words but regular chapters would be much longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Introduction

“I’m not just going to do something because you say I should!” you holler “The TVA has changed, those are old protocols, no one would’ve authorized that!” the other agent stated you down, he knew you were right. A darkness flooded his eyes and you realized he wasn’t going to let you leave this room alive “Agent please, they’ll look for me, either way you’re caught” you bargain. “Maybe, see if they’re looking for you they won’t have time to catch me” he replies. Your heart began to pound so hard it was all you could hear in your ears. This was it, you braced yourself for whatever was to come. Would he make it quick with a gun or slow and painful with a knife? You heard a familiar sound and opened your eyes “You’re not supposed to have that, they’re outlawed!” you shout. “You’re so naïve” the agent chuckles “Goodbye Agent” he presses the pruning device to you and everything fades to black around you.

   You awake in a quiet and desolate place, a loud rumbling rolls through the sky. You’d heard tales of this place but found most of them a bit hard to believe therefore assuming it was purely legend. The rumbling grows louder as clouds gather “Alioth” you whisper to yourself rising to your feet. There was nothing for miles, nothing to take cover in or under. The sky was getting darker and as it did you noticed what appeared to be an illuminated tree in the distance. You’d seen that tree in illustrations before “Yggdrasil…” you didn’t know why the tree of life would appear in the void to you, perhaps it was an illusion in your own mind but you ran towards it anyway. Alioth was close as your feet pounded the ground propelling you towards the tree.

Dust and black clouds swirled around you, just a few more feet. It was only then that you realized the ground stopped, Yggdrasil was floating just a few feet away. You quickly surmised that you two options, one was to stop and most definitely be consumed by Alioth and the other was to jump and hope you made it rather than plummeting into the abyss. “Sounds like I’m dead either way, might as well try” you say to yourself as you launch off the side towards the floating tree. Squeezing your eyes closed you try to prepare for anything as you soar through the air.

The rumbling stops and your body hits a hard surface rolling a few feet. Silence surrounds you aside from a low hum and when you open your eyes you realize you didn’t just make it to the tree, you’re inside it. You rise to your feet looking around you, vines seem to be swirling and pulsating everywhere, they seem to be the source of the humming. You followed them as they twist and turn through corridors until you come upon a man, tall and thin sitting on a throne of gold with his back to you, large horns extending from his crown.

“You don’t belong here” he states.  

[varteeny1234]

MEMORIES

(ao3 link)

Summary:

Marm gets lost in her own head after finding an old photograph, from before everything fell to pieces. She knows Kittrix means well, but they both know that being near each other _hurts_.

Chapters: 1/1 (probably. i might write a part 2 in the future)

Words: 1651

Warnings: Marm does a respawn, and also has a cut on her finger from shards of glass

:DDD I love the mangrove and acacia friendship. too bad they all have tragedy arcs and have split up lolll *crying*

(full fic under cut)

Marm's fingers bled, cut by the shattered glass of the broken picture frame. She stared down at the little pieces of her reflection, faint images, a hundred different faces that were all her face. A sudden pain made her realize that she was biting her lip. 

She cried. 

It had been so long since all four of them had been together. Trog was acting so weird, not like themself at all, taking a complete 180 on the 'chaotic triangles' theme that they'd been working with. Tea had been missing for weeks... which wasn't really reason for worry, but still, she wasn't here in the Mangrove kingdom, wasn't there to keep Marm company on the rainy days or get up to mischief or run around the swamp together with her. 

Kitt hadn't... secluded herself. She just didn't talk to Marm all that much anymore- Marm was mostly sure that it was because she didn't want to get involved in any more void nonsense- after Trog went missing, even though they came back eventually, she'd been unsettled at what they said they heard and saw- so much so that if anybody brought it up around her, she would always make up some excuse to leave or change the topic. Trog's sudden personality change almost right afterwards had scared her even more. And since Marm was so tangled up in the void problems...

Functionally, that left Marm on her own.

Maybe if she just looked harder, looked in the right places, she could figure out how to fix everything. She could learn what had happened to Trog, find Tea, and help Kitt handle her uneasiness. Maybe then they could be their little quartet again. Marm, Trog, Kitt, and Tea. 

The smiling faces in the photograph sent an ache running through her chest every time she saw them, so she let it drop down onto the ground. It hit the floor with a sound that, quiet as it was, rang out louder than anything else nearby. Nighttime tended to be like that. Marm clenched her fists as she turned away, intending to head up to the top of the island and go to sleep. Then, her hand felt like it was on fire. 

Shards of glass must have gotten stuck underneath her skin, she realized. (She was still bleeding)

Marm considered her options. Leaving the injury as-is would be both painful and leave a mess, and she doubted her ability to pull the tiny pieces out herself. It was far too late at night to call anyone else over...

That left respawn. 

Sigh. 

It wasn't like it was hard or anything, it was just annoying to deal with! Any method was painful, even if the feeling only lasted for a few seconds at most; respawning was usually left as a last resort for a reason. But sometimes, even last resorts had to be used, and now was unfortunately looking like one of those times. 

She wasn't carrying anything valuable on her, so it was only a moment before she had let herself fall through one of the holes in the very bottom of the island. Void suffocation always felt the same, and Marm was one of the most familiar with the experience, so she always had the phantom sensations of leaving the atmosphere and falling down into a nothingness that wrapped itself around her body like a cold blanket before she even left the reach of the vines that grew nearby. 

When she respawned, however, instead of landing nicely on her bed like she thought she would, she ended up at the shopping district's center island. 

She swore, and let out a shout of frustration. Why didn't she check to make sure she'd respawn at her bed, or at least at her base?! It would have taken all of a minute at most! And now, she had to walk all the way back to the Mangrove kingdom in the middle of the night. At least no phantoms had shown up yet. Silver linings, silver linings. 

Marm decided to start the long trek back as soon as possible, so she began to walk towards the bridge leading to her island. But before she got very far, the sound of firework rockets and an elytra came closer, and a person landed a little ways behind her. Had they come to check on her? There wasn't any reason for them to- she didn't need anyone's help. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, thankful it was dark enough that whoever it was wouldn't see her red face. 

"Marm? What's going on with you? You need help?" Asked the person. 

Their voice was a familiar one- very familiar. And the last one that Marm had expected to hear. 

She turned around, incredulous. 

"Kittrix?" 

"Yep, that's me!" Kitt smiled, the flames of her hair glowing brighter. "Hello, Marma1ade. Why'd you die?"

"Um..." Marm looked away. She didn't actually need Kitt's help with anything. 

"Marm. It's the middle of the fucking night, even you don't randomly die at this time. So, why'd you fall?"

"I needed to respawn, and that was the quickest way to. I'm just-" Marm yawned. "-heading back now." 

Kitt frowned. "You didn't set your spawnpoint beforehand? That doesn't seem like something you'd do, you're way more careful than that."

"I'm fine," said Marm. She internally grimaced at how snappish she sounded- but she was beginning to feel quite irritated. "Just... leave me be."

"Nah. You don't sound fine, and I'm worried about you."

"No! I'm going back to my swamp, and I'm going alone! Don't follow me," she turned around, only to have the world start spinning around her. She tripped, and nearly hit the bridge, but Kitt grabbed her before she did, helping her back to her feet.

"Look, Marm, you're my friend, okay? I-"

"You're my friend, Kitt? Really?" Marm spat, a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Kitt stopped, simply staring at Marm. Marm couldn't read her face. 

"Yeah, I'm your friend- I am, right?" She whispered. 

"Then why did you leave me all alone? I know you're hurting because of what happened to Trog, but you're the last person I have left to talk to about anything! And you left me all alone! Friends don't abandon friends, Kitt. I- I need you!" Marm choked out. She fell to her knees, collapsing from the flood of emotions overtaking her- anger, mainly.

Kitt stood still, falling silent. Her hair dimmed, going from a wild, bright flame to a gentle flicker. 

"I'm sorry, Marm," she murmured. She crumpled, sitting down next to her and bringing her knees up to her chest. She buried her head in her arms. "I was just so scared. I know Trog's still here, but they're not themself, and I hate it. I hate it so much, why can't they just go back to normal? Why can't we all just go back to normal? Where did Tea go, and why hasn't she come back? Have you had any contact with her at all?" She peeked out at Marm, who could now see her grey eyes had filled with tears. 

Marm took a steadying breath. "No, I haven't. I'm sorry... I'm just as lost as you are. I miss our old group," she cried. "I miss us!"

Their quiet sobs were the only noise that could be heard. 

"...Marm?" Kitt spoke up, a few minutes later. Her voice was raspy. 

"Hm?"

"Can I stay at your place tonight? I don't want to be alone." 

Marm considered it. "Alright... I don't see why not." She shrugged. Kitt breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you. I... I'm still sorry I stopped talking to you. I know I already apologized, but I still feel bad. I know you don't mean any harm with all the weird magic you have and stuff, but, well..." she trailed off. 

"I'm a walking reminder of what happened to Trog?" Marm finished for her, wiggling her fingers. Kitt nodded. 

She pushed herself to her feet. She held out a hand to Marm, who took it gratefully. They started walking back, Marm somewhat leaning on Kitt for balance. 

"Does this mean you'll tell me what happened to you?" Kitt asked, after a couple of minutes of walking. "Like, why you decided to respawn at this disgusting time of night?"

Biting her lip, Marm decided that it couldn't hurt to tell Kitt. She said, slowly, "I accidentally cut myself on some shards of glass. I didn't think I could get them out of my hand by myself, and I didn't want to ask anyone to come over and help me. I forgot I hadn't set my spawn at my bed, and wound up at spawn instead." 

Did she omit some of the specific details? Maybe. Kitt didn't need to know why she hurt herself. But that was essentially what had happened, anyways, so she wasn't lying. 

"I see. I guess that that's not the worst thing that you could have done, but Marm, next time, anyone on this server would have been plenty willing to help you! Even if it's the middle of the night. No one wants you to suffer," Kitt replied. "I was awake. I could have gone over."

"Still- I didn't want to make you come over. Also... I wasn't exactly in the right headspace to talk to anyone." 

Now, Kitt most likely suspected that Marm still wasn't telling her everything. 

That would be fine. She might choose to tell her in the morning, when she was less tired, or she might not. 

"Hm. Well, it'll be alright. We're talking! Also, we're cool, right?" Kitt sounded so hopeful, Marm couldn't bear to say no. And if she was being honest with herself she desperately wanted them to be cool as well. 

She'd figure everything out in the end! 

After all- she still remained the only one who could. 

"Yeah- we're cool."

[myokk]

20 q's for fic writers

tagged by @crushribbons love you Laney😙😙😙😙💓💓💓

How many works do you have on AO3? I am a humble baby writer so I only have three...so far

What's your total AO3 word count? 99,211...before I joined tumblr and fanart hell (affectionate) I was writing SO MUCH...I started in January bahahahahhahahahahahahah

What fandoms do you write for? Hogwarts Legacy, but in the future I'll probably do Tomione…beginning of death eaters super evil but sexy 1940s Tom Riddle making Hermione turn evil… (among others). Tbh (fanart-wise NOT writing) I also want to draw harvest moon…stardew valley…x files… I would love to attempt writing for P&P bc I have so many ideas, but I am too lazy to make sure they're historically accurate and it would drive me crazy if they arent so I'll just enjoy them hehe

Top five fics by kudos? I only have three published so far, but the most popular is my Ominis oneshot, legilimency. I have no idea how that one actually got readers...but I'm happy bc I really like it too and I reread it sometimes!! My main fic is actually doing a lot better than I expected too, bc when I started posting I was just shouting into the void and I wasn’t part of the community or anything🥹 the little excerpts I post here too, that go along with my writing, also do a lot better than I expected and it makes me so happy to read your comments💓

Do you respond to comments? yes!!!!! Comments/hashtags always make me SO HAPPY and these interactions are the fun of sharing these things with you all. I get swamped by notifications sometimes so I might respond super late but I always try to bc I LOVE YOU ALL SOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? my main fic...I have a horrible ending planned but I might chicken out at the end and make it happy. in my fanarts I can make them happy so that might be enough for me...and I’ll go with the evil ending muahahahahahaa

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? the Imelda/Poppy fic. Honestly it's not popular but it holds SUCH A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART...it’s popular to me😤 I reread it a lot...my love letter to Imelda

Do you get hate on fics? I don't think so...If I do I'm out of the loop bahahahhahahahaha. Honestly I've had haters before on other platforms and it's not something that really bothers me bc if I don't personally know someone, I don't care what they think...and like Laney said...if they don't like something they should just make what they want to see instead lol

Do you write smut? yes😳

Craziest crossover? None I Am A Boring Girl

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that I know of!!!!! But I also just started writing this year. I've had my art stolen sooooooo many times before though on IG and tiktok (not here yet that I know of…). If it's just copying my art I don't mind that much with these fanarts because that's how you learn and a copy will never look like the original but...

Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No but I'm collaborating with @versailles-black for fanart shenanigans bc our MCs are cousins🥹💓 plus the whole Leo/Bea thing with @the-ozzie …I’m actually considering writing a oneshot about the two of them so I think it counts!!

All time favorite ship I have two...Elizabeth/Mr Darcy have had me in a vicelike grip for my whole life...but so have Scully and Mulder...

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I really really really want to write my Ominis longfic that's a continuation of my oneshot, but it's hard to find the time to write lately bc I've been so busy!!! like...even finding time to do these fanarts is a struggle these days. I still have hope I'll finish it though bc apart from ME wanting to read it there are a few others who are also looking forward to it!!!

What are your writing strengths? no idea🥲

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I personally like it!!! But only if it's used correctly...I've seen Spanish in fics before where the person CLEARLY doesn't speak it and it drives me crazy, esp if the character is supposed to be Spanish-speaking. Or...when people add random phrases in with the rest English, bc as a bilingual person I feel like it doesn't really work like that lol. I added some Spanish to the Imelda oneshot I wrote and I like to read it when it's done naturally, and if anyone asks me for translation in the comments I’m happy to oblige🥰

First fandom you wrote in? Hogwarts Legacy is my first fandom ever bahahahhahahahahah

Favorite fic you've written? tbh I love all three that I've written so far!!!!!! I can't choose🥹🥹

Laney said there's no 20th question…I love you all😙😙😙

zerooo pressure tags for @kay9leo @writing-intheundercroft @heyitszev @noxxytocin and anyone else who thinks it would be fun to answer🥹💓😙💓😙

[actual-changeling]

There is something so fragile and painful about Joel hiding his nightmares from Ellie and not asking for help. He sees himself as the caretaker and for the most part he is, but he takes it to an extreme it doesn't have to reach and denies himself any kind of comfort she might offer that isn't focused on her. In the fic I wrote about it, Ellie has already figured out how to help him, but I wanna write about the very first time Joel wakes her up while having a nightmare, both before Jackson and then once they settle.

I wanna say the first time is after episode five, he has them every night but they get worse sometimes and that are the ones that make him wake up in the middle of the night. Henry and Sam dying the way they did is a gigantic mirror of Joel and Sarah, and combine that with almost seeing Ellie get ripped apart by infected and you get a nightmare that makes you snap out of it with a full-blown panic attack.

Joel doesn't scream, doesn't shout, he simply shoots upright and his pupils are blown out with frantic terror. The ragged breaths he sucks in while hyperventilating are the only sound in the clearing they have chosen for the night, the fire having long died down and leaving them in almost complete darkness. Maybe if she hadn't already been awake she wouldn't have noticed it at all, but Ellie has barely slept for the last three days because she sees blood and bullet wounds whenever she closes her eye.

Her sleeping bag is right next to his, a silent choice they both initiated the first night after Kansas City, and she is on her knees before Joel even spots her in his confusion.

There are things neither of them can say in the daylight, but there's only the moon and the distant stars as their witnesses now, and the desperate Ellie he chokes on lays all of them out in front of her.

She doesn't quite know what to do, doesn't know what she is allowed to do, but Joel's hands are shaking and her heart is pounding and he held her surrounded by Henry and Sam's blood on the motel room floor, so she shuffles closer. As soon as his gaze lands on her the tension holding his shoulders up drops and her head hurts with the hours and hours of sleep she has been missing out on, so she feels not an ounce of embarrassment when they meet in the middle and Joel pulls her closer.

Ellie doesn't know why there are tears dripping from her jaw or why the soft touch of Joel's cheek on top of her head breaks something deep inside of her open, but she curls up in his lap amidst the heat he is radiating and listens to his heartbeat until it slows. The forest is a cold void stretching around them, and she squeezes her eyes shut when his breaths calm enough to allow his words to reach her ears, the same phrase mumbled into her hair over and over again.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames or specific AUs your WIPs; not titles, filenames (eg werewolf AU, unnamed mafia omegaverse, or Steve's Rizz vs Eddie's Zero Filter.)

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write at least 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

“File” Names

Stripper AU

Olympic Swimmer AU

Sugarbaby/Sugardady AU

and maybe secret fourth thing I haven't started yet, but should*

Snippet

You'll notice no more metal band Steve. That's because I finished it yesterday. So sad, so here's a tease of what's coming up.

“What do you say to the rumors that you have a secret lover on this tour?”

The room went dead silent except the clicking of camera shutters going off.

“Do you want to repeat that?” Jeff growled into his mic.

She repeated the question with a smug expression.

“I wasn’t aware I had one,” Eddie hedged. “And all questions about my sex life are off limits.”

“Are worried that with your past exploits on previous tours that this man will be labeled as just another notch in your bedpost and you’re trying to protect him from that?” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“You heard the man,” Brian hissed. “He doesn’t want to talk about his sex life.”

“What about the rumors that you are fucking the frontman to The Fallen?” she asked a little louder as the other reporters started shouting their own questions.

“Unless your sucking my dick, you don’t get to know about my sex life!” Eddie snapped. He stood up and walked out.

****

It's that great and wonderful time of the week again! WIP Wednesday!

The game runs from 8am-11pm EST.

Send in as many asks as you want as often as you want.

*Check out my discord for insider information (I have to put a new link in every week because it expires after seven days)

@mira-jadeamethyst @zerokrox-blog @forgottenkanji @w1ll0wtr33 @thesecondfate

@acingthecounts @beelze-the-bubkiss @just-a-tiny-void @kultiras @niniel-karenine

@dreamercec

[ravenyenn19]

“Our Middle Is The Moon”

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion X Tav (Named f! OC)

Fic length: Ongoing, currently 18k words

Vibes: Follows the game with some obvious spins + will continue afterward. I wrote this story with the intention of showing the reality of what healing can look like + how difficult but rewarding it can be. Nyxtria (OC) was created before Bg3 came out for a D&D campaign + she fit so well with Astarion that I thought I could take an opportunity to write a love story for survivors + all that can come into that. 🏹🩸

Excerpt from most recent chapter:

“Occasionally, Astarion convinced himself he’d been loved when he was alive. Inevitably, Cazador would remind him with torture or words- that no one had ever looked for him. The childish notion would shatter like weak glass. That’s all he was, after all. A cheap mirror meant to reflect and lure in others.

Astarion would sweep his little shards back into the pit within himself, let them be swallowed whole by the thing he’d become.”

Honestly, I know how many fics there are in this fandom + it’s a bit intimidating. I also know it’s hard to love OC’s- so I really do appreciate anyone checking it out/ giving Nyx a chance. I have so many ideas planned that I think someone out there might love as much as I do & not only that- someone might gain a little hope from where this story will go. 🖤

(I’m trying to get better about promoting my own writing without feeling like I should just shut up so any interactions are without a doubt met with gratitude! It’s scary shouting into the void 😅)

Ps- link is title!

[cuffmeinblack]

Rambling rant about writing/fandom

You know me I always say write what you want. Write for yourself. But just once it would be nice to talk to people about what I'm writing? It's so hard to write for minor characters, when your enthusiasm is met with silence. As much as I enjoy indulging my brainworms, much of the process is incredibly lonely and demotivating.

Then of course I post something and the five or so fans of that character don't even reblog or even like it so I'm left wondering why I even bother. Maybe my writing style has changed in a way that is no longer palatable but a like really is the easiest and quickest way of showing a sliver of support.

Also if you wanna talk to me about writing for characters I love please do! I want to hear about your Garreth fic and Leander headcanons and Andrew drabbles.

Isn't the point of fandom to cultivate relationships and gush about your shared interests? The social aspect can feel severely lacking sometimes, especially on Tumblr which used to feel so vibrant. And I don't know if it is just because of our dwindling numbers, but to me it feels more like shouting into the void than ever before.

Don't get me wrong there are plenty of people I enjoy talking to daily on Discord. I think a lot of interaction has moved there, particularly to DM as people make close friends, which means there's not a whole lot of talk about what people are working on anymore.

TL;DR writing is lonely and I hate it.

[naturaldreamer]

Hello! How’s your day? I hope it is well. May I request a Error/Reader angst w/ comfort fic where Error leaves the reader alone at the void for a long time and ends up coming back, excited to finally see them again, but suddenly finds out their s/o had turned into a glitch because of exposure to the anti-void?

Also, may I be 🍦 anon? ( if you allow emoji anons, that is. )

If anything in this request makes you uncomfortable or uninterested, please delete this ask! Bestest of luck with writing, dear friendo!

Hello, hello little reader! It's nice to meet you! Thank you so much for the request! ♥ My day has been good so far, thank you for asking. I hope your day has been well.

Also, yes! I definitely allow emoji anons! You shall be called... Icecream anon! ♥ This is also for those that wish to use an emoji to converse with me without revealing your identity. ^^

Awww, why thank you, friend! This request didn't make me uncomfortable at all. Rather, I was excited to write this because Error's my favorite skeleton out of all of the AUs (Nightmare being a close second).

Now, without further ado, here's your request written out, Icecream Anon. ♥

When is he coming back...?

There are no clocks to tell the time. No way to find out if it’s day or night in the white, empty void that Error left you alone in. Only dread of his prolonging absence keeps you sane long enough to try to find a way out, even if it seems impossible to do so. You have tried in the past when you first met the destructive and dangerous skeleton. Even to this day, you’re unsure of why he kept you around in the first place.

Was it loneliness that he kept you near? Curiosity, perhaps? Either way, you’re grateful that Error kept you alive when he could have easily torn your soul apart and left you to die, uncaring of your presence afterward.

A sharp pain in your chest causes you to yelp and fall to your knees, tears threatening to fall from your eyes from the lingering ache in your soul. You rub your chest to try to ease the uncomfortable being, but it remains and only grows. Choking back a sob, you struggle to stand, your legs shaking to keep you upright. Taking a deep breath to calm your rising anxiety, you keep pushing yourself to walk around.

Whether it’s to distract you or to keep moving, you’re unsure as you firmly press a hand against your chest, finding it a bit harder to breathe.

Error wouldn’t leave you for a long time on purpose, would he...? Why is he taking so long? What did you do to deserve this? This agonizing pain... The creeping sorrow of being left alone to, perhaps, die in this unforgiving void. It didn’t help either that it lacks warmth; the freezing air prickling your sweaty cheeks and the back of your neck.

Shivering involuntarily, you stop in front of an invisible wall, your hands pressing against the surface.

“Let me out! Please! I don’t...!” you shouted as you bang on the wall, tears running down your flustered cheeks as you sobbed, your voice cracking, “I don’t want to die! Please!”

Only echoes of your voice return your cries. Wailing freely, your knees buckle as you slowly lower yourself to the ground, no longer having the strength or Hope to stand.

“Please... Help me...” you croaked out pitifully.

A tingling sensation wraps around your ankles as you sit in front of the barrier. Slowly, you glance over your shoulders to see what’s tickling you.

Your eyes widen in fear as your heart skips a beat in your chest and despair wraps tightly within your gut.

Surrounding your ankles and creeping up your legs are glitches that are slowly deforming the appearance of your body. It causes your legs to disappear for a second before appearing again.

Panic takes a hold of you as you scramble to sit on your bottom and try to swat at your legs to try to stop the growing glitches on your body.

It was futile.

Crying loudly, you continue to smack your legs, adrenaline pumping through your veins in your strong need to survive, “No no no no no no! Please, no! Stop! Stop growing on me!”

Despite your best efforts, there’s no way to stop the glitches from climbing further upward. Trembling, you shake your head and scream at the top of your lungs, hoping, no praying that Error will hear you.

“ERROR!!!!”

_______

Error clutches a crystallized echo flower in his grasp.

This particular alternate universe was a pain in the coccyx. It took longer than usual in dealing with the anomaly here since it took a while in finding it. The residents of this universe didn’t help, either, as they were always finding ways to slow him down. Error ended their miserable lives quickly with his strings and dusting them before they could summon their attacks. All that lies before him is now a desolate Waterfall with dust surrounding his feet.

Regardless of the troubles he faced, Error finds a moment to admire Waterfall’s beauty, the echo flowers, and rivers causing an ethereal glow. After listening to the water rushing peacefully through the area and glancing around, he brings his attention to the flower in between his clawed fingers.

A rarity among the universes he’s crossed through. Perhaps the human back home will enjoy this gift. Though, they didn’t need to know that Error stole it from a dusted monster.

It’s a secret that’ll remain between him and this plant.

With a smirk, Error shoves the flower inside his pocket and focuses on making a portal back to his place. A circular portal opens up in front of him and shows the white void on the other side. The chill coming from within causes his bones to rattle a bit, but he shakes it off due to the familiarity of the temperature. Without looking back, Error steps through the portal and closes it behind him afterward, searching the place for his human.

There’s wailing on the other side of the void, the sound causing him to snap his attention toward it and squinting in that general direction. Without his glasses, Error can’t see the human’s form perfectly, only a blur up ahead that lets him know that you’re there.

But... Something’s wrong.

“Why are you crying, human? I wasn’t gone that long,” Error huffed before he strolls over to you, an uneasy feeling wrapping around his broken soul.

“E-e-e-error...”

It’s your voice that makes him pause. The little errors are slowly increasing around his body the longer the silence stretches on. Hesitantly, Error digs through the inside of his jacket and brings out his red glasses before placing them on, his vision becoming clearer.

He wishes he hadn’t.

Error almost goes through a crash upon seeing your glitchy, broken appearance. You’re still on the ground with your legs up and arms around them, your tear-streaked face staring right at him. Like him, you have little errors surrounding your body and blue permanent tear streaks over your cheeks.

Your body completely changed and it’s all his fault because he lost track of time.

Error’s corrupted soul pulses painfully within his chest as he kneels in front of you, his body trembling as he slowly reaches out. You watch him intently as he skims over your cheek hesitantly with his claws. Error shivers involuntarily due to touching you, but there wasn’t any pain afterward. Slowly, he cups the side of your face as he looks back at you, grimacing at your current state.

He freezes in place when you slowly raise your one hand and let it hover over his hand that’s cupping your cheek. Tilting your head until your head rests comfortably in his hand, you smile gently at him, your face soft with no hatred in sight.

“W-welcome h-h-home, E-e-e-error...” you greeted him, your voice having that static tone.

Error’s soul throbs at your genuine gaze and words, already feeling the guilt gnawing him.

In the past, he would have never done this sweet gesture to a human nor would he have allowed them to be so close. With the fear of being vulnerable around others, he kept people and monsters at a distance. Then again, they usually weren’t alive long enough to grow to know him.

Now... Now things were a bit different with you. Sure, you’re a human, but someone that he grew attached to and unwilling to let go of no matter how much you begged him to. Seeing as though he messed up by leaving you alone for a long time and causing you to be in this predicament, it seems Error has his work cut out for him in making sure you’re comfortable in this form.

For now, though, he’s content in this position, your soft cheek resting against his hard, bony palm.

With a heavy sigh, Error grins sadly at you before he responds, “I’m back, human. I’m back.”

(I hope Error wasn't too OOC in this. I did my best, though! >w< I'll see you guys next time with the next request! ♥)