#the first part is better cause i wrote it on inspiration and i was truly melancholic

[smileyyoungchan]

Left Alone - C.S.C.

Inspired by: Left Alone by Sleeping With Sirens

Genre: Angst

Summary: falling out of love and realising it.

Note: this is bad. I had a stream of consciousness and wrote this down, it’s probably full of errors and it sucks, but still.

I love this song so please give it a listen!!

You sitting in front of your boyfriend at the kitchens table.

That’s how your morning started. Almost like every single one of them.

But that morning something felt off.

Your boyfriend.

Could you really keep on defining him like that?

All of your heart wanted that continue, but it’s was useless.

Falling out of love it’s probably a normal part in the life of everyone.

But why did it felt so wrong for you?

He was the love of your life, right?

You wanted to spend every single moment of your life with him, right?

Then why, right now, the only good thing seemed to let go?

“Hey”

His voice, the most gentle tone ever, made you realise how into your head you were.

He didn’t minded, he was used to that.

You moved your eyes, from the mug you were holding in your hands, to his eyes.

Those deep brown eyes you once loved.

Or you still loved… maybe not anymore.

“We should… probably talk”

He added, once your eyes met.

Did you really?

Probably not.

Both of you knew how things were going.

You truly loved each other, but more like good friends now.

How does one falls out of love? You couldn’t really explain.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the moment you understood that. It just happened.

SeungCheol was sitting on his chair, his fingers anxiously fidgeting with the mug.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing really left to say”

You said gently.

There was no need to be harsh. That moment was already too difficult for both of you, you didn’t need to harden it.

“And… I don’t need you to explain.”

You placed your hand on his, warmth of your skin spreading on his, but you felt nothing.

You remembered the first times he held your hands. Sparkles and electricity buzzes could be felt all over your body. Not anymore.

It was like holding your best friend’s hand.

You still gave him a smile.

He didn’t answered. He just moved his sight. From you, to your hand.

You knew that he was thinking the same thing.

How your hand felt right on his, but not as much as it did back then.

“Yeah” he whispered.

“There’s nothing we can do to make it work again, right?”

He asked, looking back at you.

His eyes were sad, but probably yours were as well.

It was weird.

Both of you kept hanging onto that relationship just cause it was routine for you, not because you were being happy in it. Scared to let go cause you spent your last eight years under the same roof. Everyday and every night.

“Cheol”

You said softly, and he smiled a bit hearing his nickname that you kept using.

“We don’t need those lies. It can’t work anymore and, you know, maybe it’s better this way. Maybe we should just move on and keep those wonderful memories as they were”

Your hand gave a small squeeze to his, and he moved his a bit, holding yours.

He smiled. It was a sad smile.

“You’re right”

His voice was soft and if you weren’t that close to him you probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him.

Other minutes passed. Still looking into each others eyes, while your hands kept being connected.

Yeah.

That was the last morning you two spent together.

But at least, the memories of that relationship weren’t painful, and you both enjoyed it a lot.

[velvet-games]

I wrote a random draft for a radiostatic ficlet on the car a couple days ago; still having problems with it but might publish to ao3 if it gets better.

for context, this is part of the same universe as favorite/most of my art. vox leaves the vees and is working at the hotel now; he and alastor have repaired their friendship at this point and are hurtling toward that liminal queerplatonic "what are we" stage.

“Oh, this hotel venture truly has been an inspiration, hasn’t it, Vox?” Alastor twirled around Vox’s office, nearly smashing his screen in with the microphone several times. “Romance, betrayal, existential revelations about the ontology of the universe; it has everything!”

“You say that like you’re not part of the romance, betrayal, and existential revelations about the ontology of the universe,” Vox said, narrowly missing another hit. 

“Oh, I don’t mind being a part of the show! I play the best character after all, haha!” Alastor finally set the microphone down, much to Vox’s relief. “I’ve never felt the rivers of creative ambrosia flow through my veins quite the way they do now! Every broadcast has been a hit!” Raucous applause permeated the air, occasional whoops breaking through. He gave one more twirl and a bow that almost caused him to topple over. Vox smiled faintly. Silly, he thought.

“Glad you’re having fun, buddy; now can I get back to work?” Vox sighed, feeling a little sick. He sat heavily in his chair before turning toward the wall of screens currently dotted with shining logos and random livestreams. 

The applause cut off abruptly. “Hm? Why, friend, you look even bluer than usual,” he said. “Say, why don’t you start drawing again? That used to cheer you right up. It’ll be just like old times! Me, inspired to orchestrate the best broadcasts Hell has ever seen; you, with your mediocre pictures that made you ever so happy for some inexplicable reason!”

Vox froze. “I … can’t.”

“Sure you can; why not?” Alastor replied steadily. “You used to do it all the time.”

Vox looked up, shoulders tense. “Alastor, that was decades ago.” His voice was quiet and monotone, like it was trying to avoid any spots that may contain emotions.

“You started tinkering again.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

The static in Alastor’s voice dimmed, and he pulled out a pen. “Just try.”

Vox stared at it blankly. “... What if I can’t do it anymore? What if I’m bad at it?” Alastor had to lean in to hear him.

“Then be bad at it.”

“You literally make fun of me for being bad at things all the time. You called my ‘pictures’ mediocre 30 seconds ago.”

“Is your ego really so fragile?" Alastor sighed. "I won’t make fun of you this time.”

“Why not?”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

Vox shook his head, voice finally cracking and filling with static. “It’s gone, I can’t … it’s not – I’ll just know that I failed. That I let myself lose it.”

Vox tried to turn away, but Alastor gripped the sides of his screen and pulled his face close. “Or you could find it again. You could find that part of yourself and the world and remember what it feels like to be alive. You’ll be alive, even here. How will you know if you don’t put pen to paper?” Alastor’s eyes shone. “I’ll do it with you.”

Vox laughed abruptly, voice wet. “You suck at drawing. And you hate being bad at things.”

“I was terrible at everything before I was good at them,” Alastor said. “I’ll be bad at things for you. We can be bad at it together. We can love it together.”

Vox’s face wobbled a bit. He took the pen. “Okay.”

****

The first few sketches sucked ass. After that, it was like Vox had never stopped. 

Alastor looked up from his shaky doodles of Niffty and a woman with a scar on her cheek. “You’re only drawing me.”

Vox felt his screen heat up. “I like drawing you.”

“Of course; I’m a lovely muse. But you should check if anything else is interesting.”

Sharks were pretty interesting. But after filling a page with hammerheads and a Blahaj plush, Vox went right back to Alastor: those big doe eyes, the curve of his slightly upturned nose, the curl that always covered his cheek …

Alastor glanced over again, but he only smiled softly this time. His doodles were starting to include a little box with antennae and shark teeth. 

****

“FUCK!” Vox yelled from the other room. 

“What is it, darling?” Alastor called. He set his book on the coffee table. 

Vox stomped into the lobby with a rolled up sleeve and the biggest frown Alastor had ever seen. “I think I gave myself carpal tunnel. Some-fucking-how.”

Alastor blinked. “You’ve been drawing in your room for at least four hours a day every day for the last three months. You’re also never fully charged because you refuse to let that interfere with your sixteen-hour work days. You really didn’t expect sickness or injury?”

“I–” Vox looked genuinely indignant for a moment before his eyes went unfocused, probably checking the footage of himself drawing he had stored. “O-Oh. But I meant, like, I forgot this body even had a median nerve that could get fucked up.” Alastor shrugged, and Vox flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. “What now?”

“Well, I’m afraid there is more to life than drawing. You should join my broadcast tonight; we can discuss your woes in detail.”

“Ugh, shut up. You’re just as grumpy when your voice gives out and you have to pretend you have a super important emergency errand instead of admitting you sound like you’ve been smoking since age five.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

Vox frowned again. “Mmmmgghhhhhhhhfine. But you’re learning to paint next time you lose your voice.” 

The broadcast went well that night. 

-----

oh, the woes of loving something and getting really good at it and other people expecting you to be good at it and then getting distracted by other things and losing that skill and feeling like you've missed out on your potential but also thinking about it puts a pit in your stomach because every day you wait to start doing it again the more your skill deteriorates and maybe it's not worth it to start again at all but you miss it so much and it used to be a part of you and maybe now you're missing a part of yourself--

anyway. I think my biggest worry rn is about the pacing + vox/alastor's voice. I keep forgetting what vox's voice sounds like, and I kept imagining alastor's pilot voice, which is maybe a little too unhinged for this fic lol.

[whisperingexecutioner]

“The Ghost of You” | Vladimir Makarov drabble (MW3)

____________________________________________________

Summary:

Just Makarov and his deep musings over a love lost.

Notes:   

Fandom: Modern Warfare 3, Call of Duty Setting: Moscow, Russia (unspecified location) Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x Female Reader Theme: Loss Prompt: Loneliness and reminiscence Attire: Casual Military gear

Inspiration: Was listening to ''Atlantic'' by Sleep Token when the idea for this popped into my head, so I wrote it. Just a drabble mostly for self entertainment cause I love this edgy man <3

Rating: G - sfw

____________________________________________________

July 14th, private cemetery on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia, 7:20 a.m.

The sunflowers are in full bloom. As are the roses, unfurling their full, dew-laden buds before the light of day. They are beautiful, as you would have probably said, just as you were. You would have loved them. Especially the blushing red ones nearest to your plot.

I still feel your warmth beside me, sometimes, when I'm halfway in that familiar haze of a particularly lucid dream, only to wake without you here. Sometimes I wonder, if it was always going to be this way, and somehow I think some part of me knew it would be. One day. Ah, but this…it wasn't meant to happen like this. Your existance - however fleeting - was something of great importance to me. It hadn't always been so, but you made it impossible for me to feel any other way, for me not to love you. Upon our first meeting I suppose I must have caught your eye, and from that moment forward, everything you ever did was to try and prove your worth to me. Wholly devoted to both myself and my cause, you quickly became a close ally. Someone who shared in my vision, and knew better than most that loyalty was everything; any betrayal, however great or small, would mean your immediate demise. This you understood from the start. As it was, your life was a gamble and the stakes could not have been higher, but for reasons I could not understand at that time, you chose to live it by my side. To witness the birth of greater Russia, whilst tangled in your ambitious lover's embrace. My embrace. How I wish I would have realized sooner, just what it was that you felt.

The future was meant to be ours, to shape as we saw fit. We were to carve out our stake of the world, to share in the revelry as we sat in the ashes of the old nations that would give rise to a stronger motherland.

. . . so why do I now sit alone here, thinking only of you? Of a future yet un-lived?

In the end, I suppose the song will always remain the same. Perhaps, I was truly never a man meant to love and be loved, but nevertheless I did. I had loved you, любимый, my darling. In me, you will forever live on, and should my memory one day fade, your pleasant smile will be the very last thing that death steals from me.

I go now with Yuri, away from this place, away from your grave. Your final place of peace. This is not our last goodbye, but for now it is a farewell. There are urgent things we must attend to, things made possible because of those who share in my vision. Made possible because of you. If I were to say that, for once in my life I had ever truly been happy, it would have been for the joy that stemmed from our simple interactions together; for the intimate moments we shared, and at feeling the depths of your unwavering affection and fondness.

You really were something else, something special, to have fallen so far for a man like myself. One day I know that I will join you in death, my little dove, but for now I must go. I bid you do svidaniya, until we meet again.

[countryclubkook]

The Gold

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: season 2 spoilers, angst, mentions of death of course, mentions of alcohol

Summary: Rafe has changed since the hunt for gold started and you’ve had enough. But then tragedy strikes and you feel like things are finally getting better, then something unexpected happens and you have to make a choice

A/N: made some tiny adjustments to this and wanted to repost it, i was listening to phoebe bridgers ‘the gold’ when I wrote this the first time which heavily inspired it

You knew your relationship with Rafe had come to a standstill when you began to feel like he was a ceiling waiting to collapse on you at any moment. You spent 4 years with each other and it all came crashing down in one month, it's funny how things work out sometimes. All the love you once felt for him was replaced by estranged thoughts and tears over what once was. You knew it wasn't all his fault, his father had a stronghold on him and he was desperate for his love and validation, but it still hurt you in the end.

“I love you and I miss you Rafe.” there was a tense silence before he spoke up.

“Yeah, love you. Look I've gotta go cause dad needs me. I'll see you soon.” it was all lies, his voice held the same distance it’s had for the last month.

“Okay.” this is how your phone calls had been for weeks now, it hurt more now to pretend the two of you were fine than not speaking at all but neither one of you wanted to admit to the other it was over, neither of you ready to admit it.

When news broke of Ward's death, you ran to the Cameron residence to see how Rafe was doing. He looked horrible, he had been crying and reeked of whiskey. He broke down in your arms and he didn't know if it was from losing his father or from feeling your comforting touch after so long. He hadn’t meant to neglect you or the relationship, but he was so worried about his father going back to hating him or thinking he was a disappointment again that it was all he could think about.

“I'm so sorry Rafe,” you told him while trying to hold yourself together. Ward wasn't a very good man, but you knew how much he meant to Rafe and it was still his dad at the end of the day. He still loved and grieved him.

“He's gone Y/N, he's really gone. I'm all alone again, i’ve got nobody.” the last part hurt you but you tried to ignore it, he gripped onto you harder than before as he began to sob.

“I'm right here Rafe, you’ve got me still. It’s going to be okay” you whispered, stroking his head trying to reassure him, but you were only met with silence. The only thing you could do was be there for him hold onto like a lifeline.

That was a few weeks ago and things seemed to be getting back to how they once were between you and Rafe, if not better than before. He’d been talking you out on more dates, trying to get clean, stepping up to take over the business. It felt like you truly had your Rafe back and you couldn’t be happier…that was until he had come to you saying Ward was actually alive and that he and his family had to leave in a few days but you weren't allowed to come with them. It was like a knife had stabbed you in your chest and that's when you knew, no matter what happened or how much you were there for him, how much you gave him your everything, how much you loved him, it would always be his dad that he chose. This wild hunt for gold and dire need for validation had changed him completely and his kisses didn't taste like the mint gum and whiskey you were once so addicted to, they tasted like poison.

“Rafe we need to talk.” you said solemnly, ushering towards the couch for him to sit.

“Sure what's wrong? Are you okay?” concern suddenly lacing his voice when he saw your face laced with sadness and defeat.

There was a tense silence for a moment, you took a deep breath before spitting out the one thing you were both terrified to admit, “I don't think I love you anymore.” there it was, the words you both knew were coming but too scared to say out loud finally out in the open. Maybe that's why it didn't come as a shock to either of you when you said it.

“What? Don't be crazy Y/N, of course you do.” he was just trying to fool himself, it wasn’t a surprise to him, he just didn’t want to lose his safety line. But he knew that wasn't true anymore. He had pushed you to the side and stopped caring about the relationship and you.

“No Rafe, I don't, and you don't love me anymore either so please, can we stop playing this game? It hurts too much to keep pretending and I don't want to do it anymore, I can't do it anymore.” tears streaming down your face as your voice broke. You needed him to let you go so you could being healing.

Rafe hated to see you cry, especially when he was the reason for your tears, but it was the truth. Pretending to still love each other and act like your relationship was fine was taking its toll on you and he knew it. He wanted to be selfish and keep you around as a safety blanket when things got worse after his dad but knew it had to end before he left.

“I still love you, I've always loved you. That was always real.” was the only thing he could say that was really genuine.

“I think that you believe you loved me but I don't think you really did. You don't do the things that you did to people you love. I think you've gone crazy searching for this stupid gold and I can't keep pretending otherwise. This good changed you, you’re not my Rafe anymore, you're a stranger to me. You don't have to hold me anymore Rafe so please, just let me go.” you pleaded, your voice desperate and distant. You hated to be so cold towards him but it was the only way this conversation would end the way it needed to.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I've got to go and prepare everything to leave. I did love you in the beginning though, regardless of whether you believe me or not. I'll see you around Y/N/N.” he said, tears forming in his eyes as he spoke to you for the last time without looking at you before walking out the front door for the final time.

That was the final straw for you, you burst into tears from both relief and heartbreak. The relief of being free from him and not having to pretend that the two of you were in love anymore and the heartbreak of losing what you thought was your forever person to that stupid fucking gold. It was finally over now and the only thing left to do was heal from the damage he caused and try to find happiness again.

[schrijverr]

The Hearts of Gotham 6

Chapter 6 out of 7

Bruce makes the Justice League believe he has two hearts and is a manifestation of Gotham’s night to throw them off his secret identity, not trusting them. When the sound system breaks, he doesn’t come clean, but lies instead that he split into two to make Robin. From there it spirals as all the Robins make the lies grow and twist it in their own ways, until the truth comes out.

This fic is based on this post and inspired by Bouncing Baby Bat, or so the Justice League is led to believe... by EmpressGeek.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Chapter 6: How Damian Makes It a Competition

Damian doesn’t see the point of lying to the Justice League. They’re a group of incompetents and Father doesn’t need to portray himself as a stupid meta to fit in with them. In fact, at first he refused to play along, which had him banned from meeting the Justice League.

Tt, like he cares.

However, then Drake and Todd had started squabbling about who had fooled the Justice League better, with Todd exclaiming he basically wrote the book, while Drake argued he truly cemented everything and created consistency.

Which caused Brown to start complaining that she never got to meet the Justice League and they both missed the opportunity to mess with Father himself, which Damian doesn’t condone. However, it’s clear the others do, because Drake helps her break in as Robin to prove it.

She comes back and loudly exclaims her triumph and that no one can do it better than her. This is obviously a challenge. All the previous Robins have gotten this trail, so he will do it too and show them all that he is the obvious best.

Thus, there is a determination in his step as he stomps after father into the Watchtower for the first time, a glower on his face and his shoulders squared.

They enter a big room with a table, around which all the Justice League members are sitting. A few start to greet Batman, but they are distracted by Damian, who steps up next to him. His rightful place and stares at the assembled heroes.

“I am Robin,” he proclaims. “I am the light of Gotham’s night and the heir to the Batman mantle and I will not have you tarnish Father’s skill set by exposure to your incompetence.”

The heroes look confused, because of course they can’t understand basic language and Father lowers himself to excuse Damian with: “We’ve been having an assassin problem in Gotham, lot of flash bombs,” as if Damian needs to be excused.

The alien that calls himself Superman approaches first, giving Damian one of those patronizing kind smiles as he says: “I’m Superman, it’s nice to meet you Robin.”

With vague disdain floating around in his veins, Damian eyes the hand, not shaking it as he returns: “I will not lie that it is nice to meet you too, alien.”

“Robin,” Father warns. “What have I told you about being polite?”

“Tt.” Damian is above stupid things as social conventions that just waste time, he doesn’t get why Father doesn’t see that.

“Robin.”

Fine, whatever, Damian can try and follow Father’s rules and ethics. He came here to learn to be the Batman, this is apparently the Batman. So, he spits: “My apologies, Kent,” not sounding apologetic at all.

However, it is enough for Father, because he doesn’t pressure Damian to apologize again. Instead he sighs: “I’m sorry about him, he’s getting used to living like a person.”

“Why is he so crabby?” the speedster comments.

“Yeah, he hasn’t got the time to be roughed up by the world yet,” the Lantern says. “Shouldn’t he still have ideals?”

Damian feels a little like biting these imbeciles heads off, however, he is here to complete his mission and to prove to his siblings that he is the best at meeting the Justice League. From what he has observed, ‘fucking with them’ and freaking them out is part of that.

So, he unsheathes his sword and points it at the two fools that spoke and says: “It is clear that you have never been remade out of the darkness.”

“What the fuck,” the Lantern swears, while the speedster squeaks: “Batman, Robin is pointing a sword at us,” ducking behind the Lantern when he does.

Father at least seems to understand the mission. Though, it is still patronizing when he says: “And he didn’t use it. Good job, kiddo.”

“Tt. They would have deserved it if I did. They know not what they speak off, Father,” Damian tsks at the heroes, who are starting to back away from him, he is pleased to note.

“Is this normal, Batman?” the alien asks. “He seems a bit more… mean than his predecessors.”

Damian doesn’t let Father answer for him. He is not a little kid, he can speak for himself just fine, thank you very much.

“Kent,” he barks, now pointing his sword in the direction of the alien. “I have been told it is not polite to speak of someone behind their back, nor to whisper in company. Do you have a good explanation for yourself?”

The alien has the decency to look apologetic, weak as the emotion may be. “I’m sorry, Robin. I- I suppose I was wondering if you were okay?”

“Why would I not be?” Damian snaps, baring his teeth more.

“Uhm, the- the sword is new?” the alien says like it’s a question instead of an observation, because he’s an imbecile.

“The sword was necessary for my birth,” Damian answers anyway, noting an exasperated look on Father’s face. From what he has seen, this is a good thing if he wants to win.

Bruce, meanwhile, has decided to give up and let it play out, only stepping in if Damian starts stabbing. His stupidity has led to this moment, he can live with the shame of whatever his son puts him through. It’s an initiation process at this point. For both of them.

“Your birth?” the speedster asks, looking apprehensive and cautious while doing so. Damian still thinks him incompetent, but he has to give him credit for speaking while scared. He knows that he is a threat, that is bravery.

“Yes, my birth,” Damian says, before decided a monologue would now be in order. Dramatics are a part of succeeding. He has to have a good monologue to assure victory over the others.

He proceeds: “After my predecessor got reabsorbed there were some complications with my emergence. Darkness is strong in Gotham and the night did not want to let me reemerge at first.” He has also noted that it has to be truthful on some level and Father certainly did not want him out in the field at first.

“However, Robin is necessary and I am the rightful heir to take on the mantle. So, I fought Father and ripped myself out of his flesh with this sword. It is formed by the ones that trained the Batman and thus the most suitable weapon against him,” Damian tells them. “It is mine to wield and ensure that I continue to exist as Robin.”

The Justice League appears to be slightly horrified at that, which is a definite success in Damian’s book.

“Are- are you okay, Batman?” the alien asks tentatively, like the coward he is.

Father did, in fact, get slashed on patrol a few days ago and Damian is pleased when he goes along with his story like he has with the others. He does so by bringing a hand to the wound, so that those with heightened senses could smell the blood, as he says: “I’m getting better.”

The Lantern looks pale as he comments: “Is it always so violent?”

“Tt, of course not, the others just had to separate their flesh from Father, ripping their seams that connected them, before finding their shape,” Damian says. “I had to cut myself out of the darkness, ripping out the pieces of flesh I needed from Father to form myself. It was a far more bloody process.”

Before he can continue describing it, Father steps in, much to his dismay. He claps a hand over Damian’s mouth and says: “Like I said, it’s a private affair.”

Vaguely Damian can make out a whispered: “Holy shit,” though he doesn’t know who it was.

“Father, I have enough of these imbeciles,” Damian announces, having fought off the hand and feeling like he has won successfully, so there is no need to remain. “They obviously cannot handle much and I do not wish to exposed to it for longer.”

“I have a meeting, Robin. You can go home by yourself,” Father sighs.

“No, no, it’s okay, we can postpone,” the speedster hastens says. Tt, the man is terrified of this little, how does he operate in the field? How do any of them with how quick they are to agree?

“Fine,” Father gives in easily. Damian doesn’t realize that the Justice League thinks he agrees so easily because he is still recovering from Damian’s birth, but Bruce does. He wonders why he still keeps it up when his kids make him go through shit like this.

They return to the Cave through the Zeta-Beam where they are greeted by applause. Brown comes over and slings an arm around Damian’s shoulders that he is quick to shrug off. She says: “I didn’t know you had it in you, squirt, but that was hilarious.”

“Tt, I am not a squirt,” Damian grouches. “And it is not very difficult. The Justice League are a bunch of incompetent cowards. I would highly recommend cutting ties with them Father.”

“The League are skilled in their own ways and integral to the world’s safety, Damian,” Father replies, before shooing Drake out of the chair so he can work on his cases.

Drake shoots him a glare, but continues on his laptop, while Brown goes back to annoy him once again. Damian doesn’t care. He has to train.

However, later the footage of his interaction with the Justice League appears in the group chat for further evaluation. Todd, however, maintains he fooled them the best, while Brown argues that she tops Todd.

Still, the face the Lantern made when Damian started describing his ‘birth’ becomes a reaction meme in the group chat. Damian has observed this to be a high honor and privately concludes that he has won the contest and has proven himself to be the superior Robin once more.

~~

A/N:

Omg, Damian is such a difficult character to writeee, I’m strugglinggg! Hope this was okay for a first attempt at getting in his head :D

[bcbdrums]

Persuasion

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: Monthly OTP prompt fills from this list for Spirit and Stein, because I cannot stop writing about them. I'm happy to hear recommendations each month for which prompt to write next. This month's chosen prompt: 1. First Kiss Shamelessly inspired by the fanfic "Feeling Needed" by NothingSoDivine. (@asymmetryestablished) Wrote this all in one evening while half asleep, straight through, no edits or even proofread (yikes oh well). And placeholder title is...a placeholder, if you have a better one, give it to me! And it was still January in my timezone, this still counts! Enjoy some academy babies.

Persuasion

Persuasion

Stein straightened from his lean against the wall at the corner of the courtyard when he realized he'd been crossing his arms. Spying on his weapon was bad enough without making it too obvious that he disapproved of his activities when the older teen would inevitably wander his way.

Spirit was currently occupied with another weapon from their class, nearer to Stein's age if he was remembering correctly. Her hair was blonde and caught the sun in the way that one couldn't help but look, and Stein had to admit that its radiance even outshone the heartblood red of Spirit's. Her eyelashes were dark like her leather jacket and mini-skirt, and the red of her lips matched the soft, low-cut shirt she wore that was just visible through the open front of the jacket.

Spirit was clearly enthralled by her appearance, but the only thing Stein found truly of note was the cigarette that dangled precariously from the girl's lips as she laughed at whatever Spirit was saying. Stein had watched her skill three times at keeping the small stick in its proper place when she flashed her teeth, and he was starting to wonder if it had anti-gravitational properties.

Spirit abruptly straightened, and Stein unthinkingly did the same, the older teen's posture putting him on alert. Some form of goodbye was about to take place, and then Stein would have his weapon back until the next time a member of the curvier sex caught his eye. Which was more and more frequent as of late.

But then the girl did something that caused Stein to startle forward a step, his eyes widening on the pair. She took a long drag from her cigarette, and then held it away from her as she set her other hand on Spirit's shoulder and rose up on her toes. Spirit's fingers hovered near her waist when her mouth found his, and Stein watched the girl's lips part, surround Spirit's, and his eyes go wide before closing in reaction to whatever appealed about the physicality of the moment.

But it was more than a kiss, as Stein watched the girl finally pull away with a smirk. Spirit blinked, looking surprised, and then slowly blew the smoke out from between his lips, watching it curl upward and away. Stein was also blinking repeatedly, having never conceived of an exchange like that.

He was still processing the mechanics of it when Spirit waved goodbye to his date, the cigarette now between his fingers as she turned to cross the courtyard toward the girls' dormitories. The redhead turned a moment later to head in the path that would lead back to the nicer student apartments. Stein was still too stunned by what he had seen to move to either depart or make greeting, simply watching the weapon approach wearing an expression that was something between dreamy and utterly stunned.

"Oh! Stein!" Spirit exclaimed when he practically bumped into the meister. "What are... Were you watching me?"

"Yes," Stein said simply as he moved to stand at his weapon's side and match his pace.

Spirit sighed shakily. "That's creepy, you know. Most people would be really put off by that."

"I know. So what was this one's name?"

A huff was Spirit's initial response, and then a brightening of his eyes as he frowned down in the meister's direction. Stein's smirk didn't reach his lips, but he knew Spirit could see it in his eyes.

"I know her name! It's..."

Stein did smile then as Spirit floundered, mumbling pieces of words and names to himself as his brow twisted in confusion. Ever since the first time the red-haired weapon had come home and been unable to recall the name of his date, Stein had teased him on the topic.

"Kelly!" Spirit suddenly exclaimed in triumph, and then he brought the gifted cigarette to his lips as he grinned.

"So you smoke now?" Stein asked, noting the slight grimace on the taller teen's face as he experimented with an inhale.

"Trying it out. She gave me the rest of her pack."

Stein was curious too, but less about the cigarettes than what he had witnessed in farewell between the two hormone-driven weapons. His heart pounded as his mind raced ahead to the potential conclusion of what he suddenly realized he wanted, but had absolutely no agency to achieve.

"That looked complicated," he ventured as they walked.

"Hmm?"

Stein watched as Spirit blew the smoke out slowly, his brow pinching slightly as he assessed the experience.

"The way she gave you all that smoke."

"Oh," Spirit said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he stared straight ahead. "Yeah."

"How did you know to open your mouth? Did she blow the smoke in?"

"Uh, well...kinda... You're supposed to open your mouth a bit when kissing," Spirit answered, beginning to look uncomfortable. His stride lengthened and Stein kept pace, having already anticipated his partner's nerves.

"I don't understand how any of it could be pleasurable."

Spirit was looking a bit more perplexed as their steps took them toward their apartment. The sun had begun to set, and its rays shining off of Spirit's hair gave the red locks a vibrant, golden hue. Stein felt an urgency about what he was after as he watched the cigarette burn down below halfway, but he knew he was just as likely to frustrate and anger the weapon by his persistent questioning. But as he didn't think he would ever have it within him to voice the words 'kiss me,' his chosen method would have to suffice.

"Doesn't it trigger the gag reflex to have something put in your mouth?"

Spirit's brow furrowed. They had just reached the entry of the apartment complex, and the weapon had pushed through the first set of double-doors into the security vestibule.

"And doesn't the smoke burn?" Stein continued, trying to keep any cynicism out of his tone. He knew that as soon as the weapon had an escape into his bedroom, he'd have lost his chance. But it was probably a futile effort to begin with. There wasn't any type of psychology Stein could use to make his weapon understand his desire without giving away too much, and he was certain beyond a doubt that Spirit Albarn had never entertained the idea of kissing a boy.

The weapon had been repeatedly silent in response, and Stein's mind was racing for another leading question so anxiously that he hadn't noticed Spirit had stopped walking until the redhead turned to face him. Stein's thoughts slowed at the look on his weapon's face, regarding him with nervous resignation.

"You want to try it, don't you."

Stein processed Spirit's tone before the actual words, his voice low and the words breathy as he seemed to sigh them out. Stein hadn't anticipated success, and blood was suddenly hammering in his ears as the teal of the weapon's eyes remained fixed on his, awaiting a response.

A curt nod was the most Stein could manage as he attempted to swallow the lump that was suddenly in his throat. Spirit's brow rose in curiosity, and Stein hoped that whatever was written on his face was less than the panic that had suddenly swept his entire being.

Spirit sighed again. "I'd say find someone else for your experiments, but...I know how that would turn out."

Spirit glanced from left to right through the glass doors, and then lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled long and slow.

Stein suddenly realized that this was no longer a barely-formed idea in his mind, but it was actually happening. Protests and questions rushed across his brain half-formed, none able to be spoken as the words wouldn't come together. He wanted to tell Spirit to wait, to ask how to begin. But every thought fled when the weapon's fingers rested feather-light on his cheek, his pinky finger under Stein's jaw and pulling slightly to tilt his face upward.

Spirit took a step closer, and then leaned down. Stein was certain his eyes were wide with the fright he suddenly felt as they darted between Spirit's half-lidded teal ones and the approach of lips. But the weapon had committed to the action, and in the moment Stein resolved he couldn't back down, Spirit's mouth met his.

The touch was hot like fire, and soft like nothing Stein had ever felt. He wanted to pull away, yet he wanted to fall into the warmth that radiated off his partner and seemed to be welcoming him into safety. His skin was tingling all over as if it was more than his lips Spirit was touching, and a peace he'd never known began to fall over him, slowly offering relief like shelter from a storm.

Stein was about to close his eyes and surrender to the sensations that were beginning to overwhelm him, but then unfocused in front of him, Spirit's eyes opened. In a rush, he remembered the purpose of badgering his weapon into intimacy, and then cautiously let the tension he'd unknowingly put into his jaw fall slack. Spirit's fingers became more firm against his cheek, and then his lips were sealing gently over the slight parting of Stein's. The pressure of Spirit's lips against his own sent a fresh rush of heat across his senses, and then the smoke poured hot into his mouth, pooled across his tongue and hit high in the back of his throat.

It wasn't an immediate pleasure, and he pinched his eyes closed as he fought against the instinct to gag. But then he felt a different type of rush as the drug entered his system, bringing an artificial lightness that he couldn't decide in the moment if he cared for or not. Especially not when there were far more interesting sensations, like Spirit's lips beginning to close and pull softly upon his own.

When he felt the weapon pulling away, Stein's fingers found Spirit's elbow in blind pursuit of an anchor, and to his dismay a soft sound like a whimper escaped his throat. He opened his eyes again as Spirit's lips finally left his, a feeling of cold abandonment taking the place of the fire. The redhead's brow twisted in confusion, and Stein just barely had the presence of mind to close his lips to prevent the smoke's escape even as his lungs felt near to bursting from lack of oxygen.

The latter need took over, and Stein felt the sensitive membranes of his nasal passages burn as he blew most of the smoke out through his nose and then let the rest escape his mouth without grace, a few uncontrolled coughs following. His grip on Spirit's elbow tightened, and the redhead gave a single hum of a laugh as he smiled and let his hand fall to rest on Stein's shoulder.

"What do you think?" Spirit asked quietly.

Stein's head was reeling, and beyond the fixed point of Spirit's bright eyes and hair it felt like the room was sat upon a roiling ocean. He stared up at Spirit as he willed his senses back to calm, as he tried to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back to human norms. He blinked against reflexive tears as the smoke somehow stung his eyes, and another cough was the only response he was able to manage.

Spirit made another humming sound like a laugh, and his gaze softened even more.

"You'll probably need more experience before you know if you like it or not."

Whether the implication was deliberate or accidental, Stein knew the obvious interpretation had reached his eyes for the way Spirit's own widened and stared back at him, his skin suddenly flushing pink. Stein was sure his own pale cheeks were, for once, equally awash with color.

"Uh... I mean..." Spirit said stumbling, his breaths quickening.

"So..." a deep voice sounded from the doorway.

The sound of the new presence intruding upon the world Stein was still spinning within wasn't quite startling enough to bring his senses back to earth, but it caused Spirit to jump and back away from Stein as if he'd been struck by lightning. And for the heat still prickling soft over his lips, Stein wasn't so sure he hadn't been.

"Sid!" Spirit cried, voice high with panic. "What, uh...uh... D-Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"So..." the younger teen repeated, "if anybody asks me, you two weren't just—"

"No!" Spirit fairly shrieked, his voice going high.

"And you're not smoking on Academy property."

Stein suddenly found the smoldering butt of the cigarette pushed between his fingers as Spirit sputtered something else in protest that Stein didn't bother listening to. He was focused on the flush over Spirit's cheeks and the peace that seemed to have wrapped itself around him like a blanket—a feeling he was determined to hold on to for as long as it would stay.

Sid walked past them and into the building and Spirit followed, babbling his frustrations all the while. Stein trailed just a step behind, watching the red of Spirit's hair as they continued the journey to their apartment.

He brought the cigarette up and took a tentative inhale, leaving his fingers against his lips. If anyone asked, he wasn't trying to hold that tingling sensation as long as possible. He wasn't trying to memorize the way Spirit's mouth had shaped itself to his.

And he definitely wasn't planning on further experiments.

[maul-of-shame]

Okay so spicy rant because I keep seeing stuff over here and in fandoms and I need to say something 💀

You know what REALLY grinds my gears? People who take it upon themselves to discourage writers, whether they're experienced authors or roleplayers just trying to have some fun. What is it with these self-appointed gatekeepers who think it's their sacred duty to trash anyone else's creative efforts? It's like they've got nothing better to do than sit on their high horses, casting judgment on everything they see, never lifting their pinkies to do anything.

First off: these so-called "critics" who love to bash writing prompts. "This again?" "This prompt is so cliché" Oh, excuse me for daring to use a prompt that’s been around the block a few dang times. Newsflash: originality isn't about finding a prompt no one's ever heard of. It's about what you do with it. If a writer finds inspiration in something that sparks their creativity, who are you to sneer at it? Just because you think it's been "overused" doesn't mean it can't produce something unique and worthwhile.

Guess what, genius? Every single story, from the dawn of storytelling, builds on something that came before. There are no new ideas, only new ways of telling them. If someone wants to write yet another vampire romance or a dystopian saga, let them! The coffeeshop AU with the bartender falling in love with the client? Let's go! The tensed enemies to lovers finally getting on with it? Awesome!! The magic is in the execution, not the premise.

But no, these critics have to swoop in with their unsolicited opinions, acting like they're the arbiters of taste. "Oh, that’s so cliché" "Really? Another story about a lost princess? Who cares?" Listen Linda, if you don’t like it, don’t fucking read it. It’s that simple. You don’t have to ruin someone else’s enthusiasm just because it doesn’t match your narrow definition of what’s acceptable. No-freaking-one is forcing you to read it.

These detractors love to throw around the word "cringe" like it’s some ultimate verdict. Well, what’s truly cringe-worthy is your need to belittle others to feel superior. It’s pathetic. There’s nothing cool or insightful about discouraging someone from pursuing their passion. If anything, it shows a profound lack of empathy, imagination, kindness and just basic decency on your part.

And let's not forget the classic line: "You should be writing something more serious." Oh, should I now? And who made you the judge of what's serious or worthwhile? Writing isn't a one-size-fits-all endeavor, never has been. Some people write for fun, some for catharsis, some to explore their own minds, some to fix the ending of a series, and some to entertain. Every piece of writing has value to the person who wrote it, and often to many others as well.

I just have 6 words to say. Get off your damn high horse. If you can’t offer constructive criticism or, heaven forbid, encouragement, maybe it’s time to keep your opinions to yourself. Writers don’t need your negativity. They need support, constructive feedback, and the freedom to explore their creativity without the fear of being mocked or belittled. If you don't like the prompts, the characters, cool that's your stuff and taste. Doesn't mean you have to be mean about it. You can scroll, block, filter and so on.

In the end, the joke's on you. While you're busy being a critic without a cause, those writers you're so eager to dismiss are actually creating something. They’re putting themselves out there, taking risks, and growing in ways you’ll never understand. And they're brave for doing so. Can't say the same about you. So who’s really cringing now?

[slytherinshua]

warning: sappiness ahead fr

it's been 424 days since i started my blog, and here we are.

1000 followers.

1000.

10 to the power of 3.

that is, in fact, a lot of people.

i can't even begin to understand how 1000 people like my writing. i think that it will still take me a while to feel like a good writer, even though i've just accomplished this milestone of followers.

i feel like a novice all the time, because, well, i've only been writing since january of 2022 (613 days, if i've calculated correctly). this hobby of mine was spontaneous and new and is still something i need to get a lot better at. i never wrote when i was younger apart from academic essays, it just wasn't something i found interesting, but since i've gotten into fanfiction, i've found my place where i can write and be creative.

the sincerest thank you to everyone who likes my writing. whether you were my first follower or my 1000th follower, i love you.

somehow this has started to feel like a well thought out thank you speech for some big occasion, even though it's just funny old tumblr dot com where little zanna reached a milestone. but this feels like an eventful day, but i'm still writing just whatever comes to my mind, none of this post was planned beforehand.

i want to really really thank the people who have been a big part of my life, my tumblr moots and close friends. (more sappiness ahead ew)

@eternalgyu hannie is the entire reason i am even writing on this platform. she was the start to everything, from the very second i created this blog to now, she's been here for all 424 days. and i can't even understand why she has stuck with me for that long, but i love her more than anyone else on this planet. i've dumped all my ideas on her and given her spoilers for fics i was writing. she's given me so many ideas and suggestions that have really helped along the way to create this blog and get it to where it is today. she will always be number 1 for me. she is irreplaceable. hannie, i love you so much.

@blue-jisungs axe :D the first blog i followed, and my first moot. she has been here from before i hit 100 followers. she's read my shitty old writing from when this blog was just starting to form. and i thank her for sticking with me cause my writing back then was not the greatest, let's just say that. axe has always been someone i looked up to, especially when i was first starting. i loved her writing and it inspired a lot of the first fics i wrote for this blog!! she'll always be one of my closest friends, i love her so much.

@hannahsophie0103 thank you for being one of the first people to send in requests, and for continuing to give me ideas. i get a lot of requests now, but when this blog was still a fetus, my inbox sat empty for weeks and weeks. i got so inspired and motivated whenever i got a request, and writing was truly so fun whenever i felt like i was writing for someone.

sorry for lumping you all together, but all my caratblr moots, i love you so much. everyone in the moot circle especially-- who i've talked to on the discord server-- you are some of my closest friends, and i love how we're all here, just writing some silly little fics for seventeen on tumblr. some of you have absolutely incredible writing that i can only hope to achieve one day. when i read some of your fics, it feels like actual art. words strung together so beautifully that i can say with no hesitation that you've created an actual masterpiece. thank you for inspiring me and talking to me daily, i hope you haven't gotten bored of me. you all feel like my close friend group, who i could share anything with and you'd still support and love me. thank you for being friends with me, and i love you.

i think that we've passed all the sappy speech part yay!! now to announce my 1K follower event :) *drum roll*

the love sight event.

what's the love sight event, you may ask? well, although i had dozens of ideas for what to do once i reached 1K, i decided that since txt was the start for this blog, i wanted them to be the centre of my event.

love sight will be a multiple part series where each member of txt will get their own fic.

i've put a lot of thought and planning into this event (only the planning though, i have a long way to go for actually writing the fics, but i'll get there eventually). i expect that actually completing this event will take... a very long time. so please bear with me as i write these fics!!

i have some other things planned soon for fics, such as the caratsland song event and some possible collaborations, so if there is a wait between fics for love sight, i'm sorry about that!!

i hope you all really enjoy the event, and once again, thank you. all 1000 of you, thank you so much. - zanna

[onlygenxhere]

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

I actually got two of these. Thanks! I have 46 fics (how the hell?) So it was still kinda hard to pick 10.

So fic recs Part 2

Falling Toward the Future – First long fic. First au. First adult content. So many firsts and I truly believe I became a little bit of a better writer, or at least found my “grove” as I was writing this. The first few chapters feel SO rough now but it gets better as those 29 chapters go on, and on the whole I will always be proud of it.

As Long As We Have Each Other – I didn’t know I needed to write this till I did. It’s sad. Probably the saddest thing I’ve written but I gave them a happy ending, cause it’s me. Older Juke going through a miscarriage, Luke’s pov. It's just… it means a lot to me.

We’re Having a Baby Part 4. – I mean I love all the parts before it but Part Four has the actual delivery which I think is hilarious and it's definitely my favorite part. This whole series came about because there’s a lot of kid fics but not a lot of pregnancy fics and I think all that can be fun and interesting too… so I wrote it.

Fireworks – I think this is the only thing I’ve written with my audience in mind. I wanted to write something for the summer, something holiday specific (4th July) and also include ships that would appeal to all my friends. So there’s a Rarrie, a Willex, and a Juke chapter each. Really proud how it turned out, and everyone gets kisses!

Do Not Disturb – I used to be afraid to write smut. Look at me now! Current on-going story inspired by the song Do Not Disturb by Hailstorm. This had been floating around in my head for months and once I got out all the supernatural au it decided it needed to be written next. I had no idea it would be as long as it got. But these three just had to talk and get to know each other too in addition to all the sex.

[dryams03]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAS!!

This drawing came actually pretty late, I'm really really sorry, but I hope it still counts! I made it with all my patience and heart in 11 h so... It better worths the while >:p

Don't mind me simping under the cut @goldazu || @ruki--mukami

Well, let's talk with truth and heart because those are the meaningful words we have in the world to speak.

First, I send to you past Mai 26 a single message with a happy birthday while I was... in the middle of something at the university, sleepless and stressed. Yes, a hard day with... 48 hours of speedrun...

I wrote something like I really hoped you were doing fine; but I really wanted to do more, I had this drawing on mind that moment but I wasn't able to do it.

But that didn't stop me you see, I wanted to do something special for you because you, honestly, you deserve it.

I think that every single soul that decides to share their inner worlds in any art branch that ever existed need to have a mutual like you. Not only because the wholesome and fulfilling support you give and the kindness you sprout to people around you but the way you show yourself so dedicated to your blog. Everything is so organized and your writing is perfect cause it feels so real! (sometimes I feel like Ruki is a real person and right behind there is you, the secretary, writing his speech with a bloc-note XD).

Girl, it's inspiring, I meant it a lot. And I hope, as you said, it stays like this a little bit longer, no matter how much. It will be fine.

I have to confess, before I met you I really have been having a little bit of troubles around my character. I was unsure that Cassie would find a place to develop her personality. Like... She has phases, right? And she could be amazingly cheerful and a literal sunlight at the beginning but she... Is more like that in the surface, you see. But none crossed that line. I think the problem was that I hadn't found in that time the kind of roleplay that I was looking at. The roleplay that sinks into the deepest parts of the characters and that make them give opinions, do more complicated actions, express themselves in the way they truly are. But, since the day you met Cassie you have been supporting me and I have been feeling a lot of confidence about my character. You really made me want to come back to Tumblr with a lot of energy, to renew and rethink my character, and show all her sides, all the beauty that she is intended to give, the lightest and the darkest side of her. And I granted part of this inspiration to you .

And, Jas, did you remember? Cuz I think I wouldn't forget it in my life——

Girl you made me a fanart of my girl in my birthday when you barely knew me!! I was like: I LOVE IT BUT WHY?! I was surprised! I wasn't expecting anything like that! And it made me so happy that I could barely keep myself entirely! (Also that day I was feeling pretty bad, I was having a terrible day and that simple thing changed completely my humor. No people physically around me understood it, but I didn't give a shit! I was happy! For true! Btw the picture is still in my smart clock and I don't plan to quit it uwu).

No matter the time you took to answer, that doesn't stop me to enjoy roleplaying with you. I'm glad you feel fulfilled with your life and I hope you can still walk to the future with all hopes.

I'm glad for having in my memory the day I clumsily popped into your inbox.

And, again, happy birthday Jas. I appreciate you a lot ♥️

[amad3u5-m0zar1]

In the same way, you love me.

(Could be seen as almost any variation of Hades/Persephone but particularly inspired by Fields of Asphodel by @asphodelgame. Woke up inspired and feverishly wrote this down before I could lose it. So I apologize of any typos or other errors.)

“Are you afraid of me?” Persephone asked Hades, as cool hands brushed soft strands of hair from their cheek. As gentle as one might caress the petals of a flower. “I’m afraid that I might come to hurt you. That you might come to find my presence painful. Afraid that when the day comes that I must let you go, I will have to make a choice. To let you be free of me, and lose a part of myself. Or cling to you and risk crushing you.” Persephone smiled, something happy and yet not. It was rare for the god of the dead to lay bare his own burdens. It made them happy that their husband trusted them enough to lift the veil. But also sad that the man so willing to take on the burden of others when they themselves bore so much. 

“You could never hurt me or cause me pain. And should the day come that I must leave you, I will be leaving a part of myself in turn to replace the piece I took. And should you cling to me, I would cling to you just as hard so that we are both crushed gladly.” Hades sighed, the words were a comfort, and yet still he could not bring himself to wholly believe them. “Why? Why would something so beautiful, so bright, care so much for me? Why cling to the host of many? To the watcher of souls?” “Because Agesander, I love you deeply.” That epithet, which usually brought him so much pain, was spoken so gently, so reverently, that it made his heart ache. And yet again he could only question. “Why?”

“In the same way, you love me. In the same way, you love life. You are everything I am not. Everything I long for. Everything I need whether I know it or not. You look upon life and you envy its joy, its warmth. You long to reach out to it and feel shame when it withers. But I know you know better than to think that it is nothing but happiness and pleasure. It is also sadness and pain in equal measure. For every kindness there is cruelty. If death is nothingness then life is everything all at once. The beauty of the rose and the prick of its thorns. The regal elk and the hungry wolves that stalk it. Love and hate that can move people to the same extremes. You look upon me and see beauty. But there is an ugliness there as well. Life is burdensome my dear. It wears upon the body, mind, and soul. Sometimes gently, a stream carving its way through the soil and leaving sediment behind. Sometimes rough, a shuddering quake that leaves great rifts in its wake. Scarring the earth even after its edges are smoothed with time and its depths filled in.”

Hades’ head tilted with puzzlement. He did not deny Persephone’s words, He was well aware of the pain life could bring, and yet he could not see the ugliness they spoke of. Was love not worth facing hate? Was joy not worth the sorrow? He kept his questions to himself as Persephone continued. “The day you brought me here I was anxious and a bit scared. But you quelled my fears almost instantly. Taking away my burdens with such ease. You see it as the day you stole me away from the sun. But to me, it was the first time I could take a truly deep breath, never realizing before that I had been gasping. You were afraid that your touch would chill me. But it is a balm against my heated skin. You feared I would miss the sun, and I do, its light and its warmth. But I do not miss the way it would sting my eyes or burn my skin. I smile when I see the sun, but I would always return here when given the choice.”

Persephone smiled, and it was all the sun Hades needed. “You are Agesander, the god who carries away all. And you take so much more than life. You take away joy yes, but also pain and suffering. You wipe clean love, but also hatred and disgust. You take the world off the shoulders of men and apologize for it.” Persephone chuckled as if Hades had nothing to apologize for. “Life is a burden, my dear, it weighs on the chest and makes it hard to breathe. And you, by your mere presence take away that burden. In my eyes you are peace, you are a sanctuary. The final rest that every soul longs for. I will not say that your duty is a joyful one. So much good is lost in the process, but so much pain as well. Whether they enter your domain gladly or tragically. You still save the souls in your care. From both the burden of life and the pain of dying. Just as you saved me. Stealing me away from my gilded cage so that I could fly freely. You took the rose from its garden so that here it could grow wild without having to clip its thorns. Because you would love it all the same. My dear Hades, I love you with every fiber of my being just as you love me.”

And still, Hades was confused. Did they not see how much they lost? Did they not see the pain death left the still living? How could losing everything you are possibly be worth peace? How could lifting one’s burdens be worthy of losing everything else? Could they not see it? The ugliness in… And then he realized. No, they couldn’t, no more than he could see the ugliness Persephone saw in themselves. That raised the question, was there ugliness in both of them that they were blind to? Or did they both see ugliness in themselves that wasn’t there? He wasn’t sure. But as he looked into Persephone’s loving gaze, he somehow knew that he could see the same gaze in the depths of a mirror. 

He pressed his forehead against Persephone’s. Unable to speak for a long moment. The idea of wanting to crawl into another’s skin was something Hades had always seen as something violent in nature. But now he understood. He would give anything to be wholly one with this deity of spring. If they could see something beautiful in him, something worth loving. Then maybe he could learn to see the same. “I love you dearly.” He muttered softly. Persephone smiled but didn’t reply. They didn’t need to. 

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

Memorial Fanfic Posts

I found out my (adult) nephew died today. We were very close and today I have been very numb. I am not okay. He was not in Spop fandom, but he has great relevance to my being in it. For better or for worse, I probably wouldn't have gotten into the Spop fandom at all without my late nephew. I was planning on just watching the show as a reboot of something I liked as a kid and not touching the fandom because I was worried I was too old for it or that I wasn't really the true target-audience for it as a nostalgia-watcher and non-lesbian (ace), but then after having watched Season 1 together, he just had an "idea for a fanfic about Entrapta." He wasn't the target demographic, either. He was a heterosexual, cis-gendered older-millennial man and hadn't watched the original series and had no interest in the original, but he checked out the new She-Ra as a fun-looking cartoon and perhaps as a preview for me because he knew I loved original She-Ra. He immediately fell for Entrapta as just... the best character. Shared autism-traits. Shared love for robots. Mad science vibe. We watched the show together in later seasons. He was holding his breath just *waiting* for Perfuma to snap and go medieval on everyone. XD. So, when we watched Season 1, he had this fanfic idea, but he didn't want to write it because he wasn't into writing at the time / anymore, didn't have the confidence to get it off the ground but wanted to see it done. He shared with me this idea about Entrapta just causing hilarious havoc in the Fright Zone as part of making it her new home. We discussed ideas back and forth and I wrote the thing for his amusement and then I just started in and really got into the fandom. The first fic I wrote for the fandom, which was entirely his fault, the writing of which got me hooked on doing more for the fandom: The Havoc Hypothesis Revisiting a fanfic as a memorial, because I really don't know what to do right now. A small legacy for people who did not know him. He inspired me to some truly things. Here is another fic inspired by him, by a back and forth, a Fallout crossover. Crawl Out Through the Fallout Yet another fic, not written specifically for his amusement like the others above, but inspired by a board game he got and my partner and he and I played together. We have it in our apartment because it was a thing we only played together. I used it as inspiration for a "Game Night" Entrapdak-week prompt: It's a Small World After All

I am never going to share this specific kind of geekery with another person. There really was a dynamic between us that will never exist again.

[maebird-melody]

Fic Stats Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

Thank you so much @aowyn for tagging me! I’ve seen this one going around and it seems fun!

First most hits: The Last Time

After settling into his new anonymous life, Peter picks up a new coffee habit. But is it really just for the sake of routine, or is it an excuse to see his old friends? Peter resolves that today is the last time, and then he will truly cut ties with his past. After all, that's what he wanted, wasn't it?

You may not know this about me, but Spider-Man is my oldest and deepest obsession. I didn't like how No Way Home ended. I didn’t want to rewrite canon or anything, but I did want to explore how Peter (especially MCU Peter) would do a terrible job at staying away from his friends. Most likely this fic only has such a high hit count because the fandom is massive.

I wrote the first chapter of this fic as a oneshot, but it’s become a multi-chapter slow burn identity reveal fic now and I am atrocious at updating with any semblance of a reliable schedule. I’m trying to get a lot of it outlined and several chapters written before I start posting again.

Second most kudos: Glockwork

Sometimes, the answer is violence. In which Clockwork rescues Danny from the Guys in White in a more conventional manner.

Joining fandom events (especially for Danny Phantom) has resulted in several one-off crack fic ideas. This is one of them. My second-longest obsession after the Sam Raimi Spider-Man films has got to be Danny Phantom. I somehow managed to avoid phandom participation for nearly 20 years. And honestly, y’all are insane, but in a good way I think.

Glockwork isn’t even my joke. I just couldn’t think of a better pun than the meme this was based on. I am glad to have contributed any small part to fandom lore. Also, Clockwork with a gun is hilarious. The original art that inspired this fic was drawn by @ravenatural-art

Third most bookmarks: Waypoints

When an unnatural cold settles over Casper High, the trio know that something more than they can see must be going on. But their search for answers yields more than they bargained for. Ghosts are haunting Amity Park with their shattered memories. Only by reliving those memories can they free the mortal realm from ghostly influence, restore the broken cores, and ultimately, help the ghosts pass on. Yet there is a sinister force at work behind the scenes. Someone…or something…caused this. Who is pulling the strings? Why? And how do they make sure none of this happens again?

Another Danny Phantom fic! This is the piece I’m writing for Invisovang (yes, writing, as in present tense—I didn’t finish by the deadline it’s fine). My longest fic by far, it’s amazing what actually planning out your story will do for you.

Probably has so many bookmarks since I'm still actively updating it, and many people prefer to read completed longfics. Also, there are just so many Danny Phantom fics out there. If you want a fic that doesn't involve dissection, maybe this one's for you.

Fourth most comments: Geduldh’s Fate

In which Heisshitze learns of the consequences of his meddling in Ferdinand's affairs. SPOILERS FOR PART 4 VOLUME 8 It is the first Interduchy Tournament since Ferdinand left for Ahrensbach, and Heisshitze is feeling very pleased with himself for having orchestrated Lord Ferdinand's freedom from Ehrenfest. But as he is about to learn, no good deed goes unpunished.

My current obsession, Ascendance of a Bookworm! It’s a slice of life turned high fantasy political thriller light novel series. I highly recommend it. Let’s just say, I was unhappy with the turn of events in Part 4 Volume 8, so I wrote something to deal with that. Ironically, a lot of what I’d written and wanted to happen actually came to pass, if not in exactly the same way. This was also written at the turning point where I stopped waiting for the paperbacks and ended up reading all the way up through pre-pub. I haven't quite gone so far as to read to web novel.

Fifth most words: The Long and Winding Road

While traveling the West Road, Alistair becomes the unwitting guard of a merchant caravan. When he leaves camp later that evening to gather firewood, he meets a strange, enigmatic elf who is lost in the forest. They spend a brief time together before their paths diverge once again.

This was written for a Dragon Age event! It was a fic exchange in which people requested either romantic or platonic pairings with Solas. I picked the Solas & Alistair platonic pairing. I have them sharing a camp together for the night. It’s a very moody, contemplative piece, I like it.

Least words: Uthenera: Fen’Harel Ver Na

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages past." This song blends the Lost Elf Theme and the Thedas Love Theme, and also introduces a new theme of my own devising which can be heard in the opening bars of the piece. This is a programmatic piece, which means that each part of the song represents an unfolding story. For program notes, see the end of this page.

Feels like cheating though cause it’s not words at all. It’s music. Dragon Age inspired music (though I did lift part of a theme whole cloth for this piece, it was too pretty to deconstruct).

Fic with the fewest words that is actually a fic would be A Terrible Bedside Manner.

By the power of fan fiction, the laws of time and space have been broken to bring us this little nugget: what if Richard Maxwell was working for Regis when he first came to Odyssey? This tiny bit of chaos was incredibly fun to write. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It’s Adventures in Odyssey crack fic based on the two most compelling characters in the series, who also happen to be the villains (in a series that Did Not Need Any Villains).

I feel like most of y'all have already played by now. Well, if you've already done it, please feel free to ignore the tag! Or instead, share a fic of yours that you think is underrated and doesn't get the attention it deserves. :)

Tagging @imakemywings @seaglass-skies @the-oaken-muse @bibliophilea @sailorpunksenshi @theelibugs

[mrs-evadne-cake]

Hey i think ive sent compliments about ur stranger things fic on here before too but skdhdk i recently reread it again (at this point i think i do come back to it once a year lmao) and i just had to come back here again because i feel like its only gotten better on the reread!!! Everytime i remember what a disappointment the recent seasons of the show have become i come back to ur fic and am always astounded by the amount of care you've put into the story and the affection you have for the characters and truly fleshing them out the way you did. Especially a big fan now of the way you tackled the question of "how do we decide something or someone is a monster" on the latest reading between neil hargrove tuning into his radio, james harrington deciding who were real people and who are the monsters who needed to be contained, and ofc the little girls who knew themselves to be monsters now because of things theyve gone through but still try their best to hang onto things they love. Something i didnt pay attention to on the first reading but now i cant stop thinking about it!!! Esp with how jonathan immediately forms a rapport with the abused children instantly because he knows what its like to inherit that monstrousness from violence thats been done to you and desperately wanting to rise above it + the sympathy w which you wrote kali genuinely put this above anything the show could put out at this point. Maybe ever because i dont think the show could truly ever commit to the political stance its first season demanded. Thank u so much!!!!! I liked how now that theres smth of a positive relationship bw hopper and kali, theres potential for a kali and sara hopper team up in the future and possibly how hopper can keep in touch if sara ever decided to reach out.

Optional question for u to respond to: in the story its constantly referenced that jonathan met steves dad at some point and that was probably when steve was told that he wasnt to hang out with the byers. Im guessing that was when joyce dropped him off that halloween cause thats when steve started finding loopholes to meet up with him? I just wanted to know if that would be a correct assumption, and i was wondering how that encounter went down lmao

(btw the choice of making jonathan and steve childhood friends + steve and nancy always being jonathans first loves and them eventually falling into that same configuration the two of them promised each other even when jonathan was the only careful custodian of that memory and never brought it up???? FUCKING INSPIRED. I've never gotten over it ever. Steve admitting in his "rewritten history" bits that jonathans smile made him feel like a bullet train????? God I'll never stop being lightheaded everytime i think about that.)

Hey i think ive sent compliments about ur stranger things fic on here before too but skdhdk i recently reread it again

You're Anon, so I don't know! But if you did I am delighted you decided to reread and tell me more! Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner! Haven't been on here a lot came back and was like...is that... a message?

the affection you have for the characters and truly fleshing them out the way you did.

I'm always so glad when this is what readers take away from it- I never wrote as a hobby before writing this (and haven't written since, unfortunately had the same ultimate feeling on s3/4 as you) but I really loved the show and characters after S2 and this was just an expression of that for sure. I'm so happy it comes through!

Esp with how jonathan immediately forms a rapport with the abused children instantly because he knows what its like to inherit that monstrousness from violence thats been done to you and desperately wanting to rise above it

Thank you! I really wanted a big part of the fic to be that no one's 'hero moment' has to be killing a monster with a bat- hell, I maintain to this day that Steve's was just apologizing in S1- and that it can just as well be empathy and kindness.

Maybe ever because i dont think the show could truly ever commit to the political stance its first season demanded.

Don't get me started.

Optional question for u to respond to: in the story its constantly referenced that jonathan met steves dad at some point and that was probably when steve was told that he wasnt to hang out with the byers. Im guessing that was when joyce dropped him off that halloween cause thats when steve started finding loopholes to meet up with him?

Yeeeeagh. I don't remember if I had a thing for this? It's been a few years. The Halloween thing is from The Wolves in the Walls which was the original first chapter of this when it was still gonna be a 5 chapter character study instead of a you know, novel. I think in the fic proper it was that his dad was just around more when he was in grade school and just started to have to leave constantly when the project really ramped up around when Terry Ives/Ken/Gloria/Alice joined and 11 was born?

I'm so happy you enjoyed it - thank you so much for the excellent take and the wonderful comment!

[tractorbeamofwoe]

Hi do you think you’re done with writing or do you think you’ll ever come back to it? If you do pick it back up again who would you write for?

Hey, thanks for asking :)

This is gonna be a long ass answer so strap in lol. I’m not done with writing at all, or at least I don’t want to be done. There is still so much I want to say and get out there that I want to share with you guys. I still have so many WIPs and I’d preferably like to finish them before I die lmao even if you have to wait 40 years. Ik I’m kind of on a hiatus rn as far as writing goes (or at least writing for catfish anyway) but actually I am still writing behind the scenes. I do try and add to WIPs and chapters and I’m still having so many ideas. But it’s a long slow process and I just never feel like I can get these WIPs to a good enough standard to post them, or find the motivation/inspiration to finish them. You have no idea how much I’d love to continue Tyrants and the things in my head I have planned for it, but I’m just finding it super difficult and I feel awful for kind of abandoning you guys and abandoning all these projects for months at a time. I mean hell some of my fics haven’t been updated for at least a year. Maybe I need to bring back WIP weekends, if that’s smth you guys would like?

So to answer your first question, no I’m not done and yes I absolutely would love to come back to it when I’m in a better place. I’m also super super busy rn with final exams coming up and I’m starting uni in a few months too so lots of preparation going into that as I’m moving into an entirely new city. I’m just super tired all the time and I really do not write well when I’m tired I have all these thoughts but I get two sentences in and I’m out like a light.

To answer your second question, I truly don’t know tbh my fandoms have changed so much since I started this acc there’s so many people I would have loved/would still love to write for but I feel like obviously I have followers from a specific target audience it’s very hard to move into something else. Like I don’t wanna make people unhappy by writing other stuff yk? Basically I just don’t know what sort of reaction my writing will get (I mean the interaction on my fics are already bad as it is, I dread to think what it would be like if I posted something that appeals to absolutely none of my followers lol).

Ik I said I’d write some Stranger Things stuff and I actually have been! I’ve written a good chunk of the first chapter of a series I wanted to start, but again I just struggle to find inspiration anymore to finish it, but once I do I’m really really excited for people to see it. I’m still really into britpop too and I’m sure some of my mutuals absolutely wouldn’t object if I wrote about damon 😂 but I’ve just never really committed to getting any ideas down in writing yk? But I also kind of wanna move away from rpf sort of only because I find it kind of limiting with what you can do because there’s like an unspoken line you shouldn’t cross yk? Whereas fictional characters can kind of have endless possibilities. Especially ones that have their own universes and rules etc. And ik there’s nothing stopping me from writing AUs cause I’ve done several but idk it’s just not really quite the same. I kind of struggle with making original characters too which is not a handy weakness at all when writing series.

But ya then there’s the part of me that’s like hm I would’ve liked to have done some resdogs stuff, some bullet train stuff cause god knows there’s not enough fics of my fave films out there it would just be purely self indulgent tho.

but I also have like Leon Kennedy brainrot and my mate’s just gotten me on the mf wilbur soot/mcyt hype train which is a whole other can of worms I won’t get into in this post

But obviously I won’t do any of that until I finish all my old WIPs and requests for catfish, inhaler and Sam 💀💀

So basically if I came back it would be more of the same for a while and then suddenly just go completely off the rails. If you made it to the end I admire your patience I hope this wasn’t too boring to read. Love ya <3

[machinavellian]

hi :)

i just wanted to pop into your ask box to say thank you for writing interstate! (as well as precedence!). interstate is, to this day, my favorite fic, and also, it is the fic that inspired me to start writing fanfiction. i've read it like a million times- i have a pdf on my computer and an epub on my phone so i can highlight my favorite parts. (i swear i'm not crazy, just autistic lol). i could go on and on about how your writing is perfect. the characterization, the plot, the prose itself. i generally hate happy endings in fics but you managed to write one that i love. i'll never stop thinking about how you wrote the sex scene in one sentence. to be able to get across the whole essence in one simple sentence takes so much talent i could never. and the way you did the pov switch without switching povs (where norman is imagining what ethan is doing) was brilliant! (i am awful about accidentally switching povs)

i wish i could explain myself better, but i'm not as good with words as you are.

anyway, since i'm here i also have a question, and i hope it's not too vague or stupid etc. but how do you do it?? (i guess what i mean is, what books/other media inspires your writing? do you have a writing routine or a secret tip? or is it just natural talent?)

sorry for being a weirdo but your fic is my roman empire so to speak

thanks again for writing and publishing (especially in our tiny little fandom!!)

pardon how late this is, i'm not at all good at tumblr lmao. but ahhh, thank you, you're very kind! it's so great to hear that something i wrote meant so much to someone else, and it's SO great to hear that it got someone else writing their own fic! no judgment whatsoever about the hoarding of copies, my autism is the cause of many mysterious choices i make in life 😌

it's a little embarrassing in a way because i most definitely don't consider myself a creator of great literature or anything, i just work hard on my fics and take the process of writing them seriously (maybe too seriously)... but i'm going to try to answer your question/request for tips as sincerely as i can!

read. like for real, read other people's writing! i actually don't do this nearly as much as i would like to anymore and i can tell my writing is a little rustier for it. when i read other people's writing, i sometimes feel like i'm filling up an invisible "tank" that holds my ability to do words good. :') as a personal example, i have a short story anthology by vladimir nabokov that i've been slowly whittling my way through for a million years -- i loved his prose the first time i read it in middle or high school and i think it has been a big influence on my desire to look for unexpected turns of phrase and vocabulary words i didn't know before. sometimes i like to keep a list of new vocab words i encounter as i read to look up later, but usually i end up getting distracted and looking them up as i go. 😩 though this is easier than ever if you're reading digitally, i suppose! i think learning to identify the things you like in writing is really important. for me, that has a lot to do with not only finding the exact words i want to describe something, but also their cadence/musicality in a sentence. i remember very little about the poetry terms i learned in school, but i think learning about the anatomy of poems can be a really useful tool when it comes to prose also! or if nothing else, it can be fun to try experimenting with shuffling around the order of words or substituting one synonym for another to see how it changes the overall sound and feel of a sentence.

write! then tweak/rewrite. i actually hate the advice "you gotta just write" lmao... pisses me off every time because i know it's true 😭 i can dick around writing notes/meta as long as i like (and i do), but there's truly no other way to make progress like just fucking writing SOMETHING down even if you hate it and think it's bad. i used to get academic papers done in college and grad school by quickly and sloppily blasting down the basic gist of my main points like a 10 year old and then going back and revising it to sound like an adult. it's a little different with fiction because i'm writing something i already actually want to write, but it can still help to jot down the bare bones of a scene even if i don't even use it in the end. writing out dialogue can help a lot in my experience. i do feel pretty strongly that revisions are nearly always necessary -- i don't always get my fics beta'd by another person, but at minimum i have to put it down and re-read it for myself to make sure everything is flowing the way i want it to. betas really are helpful, though, because a LOT of times i'll think something makes perfect sense in my head only to find out my friend has no idea what i'm on about lmao. this can also help with things like switching povs, like you mentioned! there's nothing wrong with having a pov switch happen in your fic, mind you! it's just that ideally it's happening because you wanted it to happen instead of like, uh-oh, i need to convey some information about norman that ethan doesn't have a way of knowing. it's funny you mention the fap/fantasy scene because i think that's literally what happened when i was writing it, like... i think i was like "hmm, i want to emphasize that ethan is most definitely Into norman and this thing that's growing between them, but i've stuck with norman's pov this entire time and i don't want to put one solitary scene of ethan pov in there, if i can help it... but hey, norman's a profiler! visualizing what people do when they're alone is his whole thing!" so that was the perfect excuse to frame it that way in the end. ✨

canon review for characterization. this has less to do with the mechanics of writing, but honestly, if i had to choose, i'd much rather read a fic that totally nails the characterization than one that's perfect on a technical level. y'know that meme that's like "he would NOT fucking say that"? i do everything i can to avoid eliciting that response lfkdslf. iirc while i was writing interstate i basically always had an LP of heavy rain playing so i could observe the way the characters react in different situations, listen to their speech patterns and the types of words/language they use, and just kind of... idk, absorb the general vibe a little bit, i guess? i know i just mentioned you have to write Actual Story and not just notes to make progress, but i do also tend to have a LOT of notes about like... "okay so norman actually really likes this guy, but the reason he's holding back his feelings is because he's given so much of himself to his work and he's so used to looking at people in the abstract that he struggles to connect with them, leading him over time to decide that he can't or isn't good enough to be what ethan deserves, and what could ethan maybe say or do to help challenge that so they can move forward?" etc etc.... at the risk of being Very Autistic, i find i do a lot of if/then calculations when it comes to plotting character beats. 😅 "if these two particular lonely dudes start to form a connection one night at a bar, what then?"

have a thesis. this feels kind of ridiculously pretentious when i write it out, but it honestly really helps me a lot with staying focused: it's basically me answering wtf my point is. why do i think this fic needs to be written in the first place? it's the thing i want to accomplish, the idea i want to share with people who read it. even if i don't have a solid statement to make, there's always SOME kind of central question i'm trying to answer -- a lot of times, that question is as simple as "man, you know, i really wanna see these two bone. what has to happen for that to be possible?" for precedence i think it was basically just "hey wouldn't it be fucked up if...?" and for interstate it expanded to "hey i think these two deserve a happy ending and they deserve to share it together. what does that look like?"

so i dunno, hopefully all that is at least slightly useful and not just self-indulgent rambling, but thank you for giving me the ability to self-indulgently ramble if nothing else 😭

but above all, please do not doubt your own ability! writing is hard and sometimes sucks but it's also a lot of fun and there's not a right way to tell the story you want to tell, it just matters that you tell it. so... DO 💪