#this fic is kicking my ass

[sighonaraa]

writing emotionally heavy fic is like. not only asking yourself Would He Fucking Say That but also. Would He Fucking React Like That. would he cry about it or shout about it. will he accept a hug right now. does he have the wherewithal to recognize that the people around him are trying to help him. can he pick up what those around him are putting down. where his is own mental state at in this moment. WILL HE ACCEPT A HUG RIGHT NOW.

[merrimentsmight]

Cicero is such a complicated and variably authentic guy, and how you think of him depends on when and why you think he's lying. Or if he even knows what his own truth is anymore. There are plenty of ways to write him that feel true and in character, but it's still hard to predict if my writing will resonate with others, or if I'm writing a Cicero who only lives in my head.

[blueberryrock]

Me a week ago: omg omg im doing it!! In gonna have a good writing streak this year!! Im gonna post sm fics this year!!

Me rn: i cant even figure out how to start my next fics, i suck at writing, i will never write again

[10moonymhrivertam]

Hazbin BatB AU Preview

Charlie pushed open the door, smiling at the gentle chime that wound through the shop. It was louder than such a little bell ought to have been able to make, but only if you listened the right way, like her mother had taught her. Looking into one of the dim corners of the shop helped resolve Alastor’s shape out of the shadows, even as he stepped onto the floor-proper of the bookshop.

“Charlie! You little demon. Back so soon?” Charlie could never help the way her smile widened to match Alastor’s grin.

“Morning, Al! Yeah. The chickens were actually fine, but the goats want way more food.” She spread her arms like she was sketching out a rainbow. “We reached a compromise,” she added, reaching down into her bag to present him with the borrowed spellbook. Al gave it a cursory once-over that it seemed to pass – the shadows wrapped around it and ferried it back to one of the half-hidden shelves.

“Last time it took you three days.” Alastor looked at her sideways over his glasses, his grin widening a fraction. “Well done.”

Charlie felt like she was glowing. She beamed back at him.

“Have you got anything new in?” She bounced on her toes. He considered her for several long moments before slipping sideways. She blinked, squinting a little to keep an eye on him.

“Not new, exactly…” He wandered alongside the shelves, running his finger across the spines in his way. After several steps, he stopped, tapping one of them and sliding his finger up to pull it from the shelves. “...I’ve little use for this one,” he announced. He slipped back onto the floor again, holding it out between them. “Go ahead and take it.”

“One-Thousand and One Nights?” Charlie was startled by a smart rap to the top of her head.

“Look,” Alastor instructed. Charlie blinked down at the book, watched the cover waver and melt away.

“Love in All Its Forms.” Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Al, I’m not gonna lie, love spells...kinda have rape-y vibes.” She peeked up at him.

“Well, I’ve memorized the spell for dispelling love.” Alastor’s gaze wandered to the window. Charlie followed his gaze to watch a duck fall out of the sky. She grimaced, hugging the book to her chest. “I’m giving it to you, regardless. May as well see where it takes you, no?”

“...Yeah. Okay.”

“Attagirl!” He cried, clapping her on the back. She summoned another smile, smaller than before. He gave her another once-over. “Would you like a charm for your way home?” He extended a hand. Technically, the answer was yes. Alastor charged pretty steeply for his workings, though, even for her. She’d only brought along enough money to cover the deposit he sometimes charged her for borrowing from the magical library – even that was an indulgence, she was pretty sure, that came out of frequenting the bookstore since she was a kid dangling off her Mom’s hand.

“No, thank you.” She managed to maintain her smile as she pushed his hand back toward him. He hummed, closing his hand. He tilted his head at her.

“Well. Better get along to your father, now.” Her smile widened at the familiar eye roll. “Safe travels, Charlie.”

She waved at him as she departed the store. After a few steps, morbid curiosity drove her to start leafing through the book. She found herself engrossed. The book wasn’t as bad as she’d initially assumed, but it wasn’t super stellar, either – a spell for finding a lost loved one could be great if they were scared of being alone; less great if they were scared of you. That spell Alastor had mentioned, about dispelling love – he was clearly happy knowing it, but Sev was her closest friend, and if she’d used something like this when she was heartbroken, she’d never have known.

This book, like a lot of Alastor’s spellbooks, had notes in the margins. It was in several hands. Charlie imagined it was a student-teacher or parent-child kind of deal, but Alastor had never contributed. For one thing, the first time she’d brought it up to him, he’d complained about it for forty-five minutes, which had been a little hilarious. For another, most of these people wrote in cursive, but Alastor tended to use the same neat print he used for his bookkeeping everywhere. The potion recipe correction that had caught her eye now was done in a flowing cursive. She squinted at it, trying to figure out if it was correcting the measurement or the ingredient itself.

“’Sup, l’il hottie?” Charlie was so glad for the book. It covered her grimace for the few moments before she got her face under control.

“Hi, Adam.” She avoided breaking stride, hoping she could just leave him behind, but he slipped around behind her, grabbing the book as he went. She sucked in a breath, worried and angry, but when she turned to him, he looked about as disinterested as he ever did. “Adam,” she said, carefully calm. “May I have my book, please?”

“Hot and smart, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. She tried not to gag. “Not even one single picture – really?” He flipped through a few more pages. Well, at least that reassured her that he still couldn’t see. There were plenty of diagrams in the book.

“It’s called a chapter book for a reason.” She made herself sound as cheerful as she could. Adam rolled his eyes. She reared back. For just a moment, an intangible wind rippled through her hair.

“Charlie. Babe.” She couldn’t make the wind die down, but either Adam somehow wasn’t seeing it, or he wasn’t noticing how weird it was. “Chapter books have got nothing on reality.” Adam flung the book over his shoulder, and Charlie’s breath caught in her chest. It arched through the air and – Oh God, oh fuck, it didn’t matter if it was a present instead of a loaner, if Alastor ever found out she let one of his books land in the mud he would kill her. “Reality’s got me,” he added, even as Charlie dove past him to rescue the book. He paused a moment, and she thought maybe he would apologize, but then – “God, that ass.”

She shot to her feet, book in hands, glaring at him. At least the wind was getting kind of tangible, so it wasn’t so weird that it was picking up her hair any more. Adam was holding up his hands in surrender, but there was a lazy expression on his face that made her angrier.

“Look, baby. Come on over to the bar, and we can get your book on a nice, safe little table, and I’ll make sure no one uses it as a coaster or anything, and you and me and Lute can all...get to know each other.”

Charlie shuddered. She managed to keep a hold of herself long enough to take a deep breath.

“Maybe some other time,” she lied. Since she’d already dove into the mud, she went ahead and started wiping the mud from the book with the sleeve of her blazer. “Please,” she added. “I gotta go make sure Dad’s all packed.”

“Gotta make sure Loony Luci doesn’t pack three rubber ducks instead of his toothbrush?” Lute quipped, coming up from behind Adam to stand just behind his shoulder. He snickered. All at once, the wind was back.

“Don’t talk about my Dad that way!”

Adam scrambled for a moment, and then turned around to flip Lute off. “Yeah, don’t talk about her fucking Dad that way!”

“My Dad’s not crazy! He’s a genius,” she snarled.

BOOM!

Charlie whipped around, the wind gone again. Smoke was rising from the basement’s open windows.

“Shit!” She took off at a run over the bridge, leaving Adam’s spluttering laughter behind her. It seemed like the cloud was already dissipating as she crested the hill, so she felt safe deciding that the house wasn’t actually on fire, but she didn’t bother slowing down, sliding in the dirt as she stopped in front of the basement doors. She threw them open, recoiling from the smoke.

“Dad?”

“’S okay!” He called back. Through the smoke, she saw him bent double, wheezing. “Just. Did the rubber duck test a little later than planned.”

“Um. That looks. A little...exploded. Are you sure you just put a rubber duck on one end?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, scrubbing a sooty hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it was that dependent on balance, but. Good to know. ‘Cause not everyone’ll use it the same.” He glanced back at the machine. “I’m just glad it didn’t fall apart.”

“It’s a mechanical chef, right?”

“Well. Chef’s being a little generous. It is supposed to kind of automate a kitchen, though.”

“Aw, but cooking is so nice. Why would anyone wanna automate it?” She reached out to poke at the axe on the end of it. Dad caught her wrist with a practiced, gentle hand.

“People with big houses are always doing dumb things with their money, CharChar. What if some little kid inherits a big ol’ chateau and half the staff ditch? She’s not gonna know how to hire more, and the butler will be too busy covering duties to do it for her. So. Lighter load for the butler, more time to hire staff – maybe less staff you gotta hire, too!” He cried. “And it can work in little provincial places, too, for the folks that don’t have as much get-up-and-go as they used to.”

“That’s so sweet.” Charlie clasped her hands together in front of her.

“So the boiler’s dependent on being right where it is…” Dad’s voice lowered until he descended into muttering, circling his contraption.

“Do you need any help to have it ready for tomorrow?”

“No. I shouldn’t, no.” He flapped a hand. After a moment of staring, he crossed his arms, holding onto his chin. “Hand me the – uh – dog-legged clencher...thing, if you don’t mind, actually.” Charlie smiled, rummaging around his tools for a moment until she could pass one to him. He disappeared from view. Charlie watched quietly for a few minutes, but then she looked down at her book. She grabbed a spare rag and began cleaning it carefully, standing it up and separating the pages, just in case.

“Dad?” She almost chickened out at the last second, and she wasn’t entirely sure he could hear her over the sounds of his work.

“Charlie?” He echoed. She was still staring at her book. She considered Alastor’s disinterest in it all. Adam constantly asking to ‘get to know’ her. How she and Sev worked so much better as friends.

“...How’d you and Mom meet?” She wasn’t sure it was what she meant to ask, but it felt right when it came out. The sounds of Dad working stopped, though. The basement was silent for a good few minutes.

“It was at a party,” Dad admitted. “Out in the garden, actually. We both picked the same tree for ‘just needing some air’.”

“When did you know she’d be...Mom?” Charlie waved a hand at the house above them, even though Dad wasn’t looking.

“I realized I couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day ever again.” Dad’s voice was a little thick, and Charlie ducked her head. Silence reigned in the basement again. Dad wiggled his way out from behind the invention and gathered her up in a hug. Charlie was forced to face that this blazer might be a lost cause.

“What brought this on?”

“Nothing,” she lied.

“...You know I’m hoping to get us back out of here with this, right? Maybe back out to the city.” Dad rubbed her arm, but then he straightened, eyes wide. “Do you want that, too? I mean, I know this is where your Mom grew up, and she really liked it here, but I just thought...you always just fit right in there, y’know?”

“I liked the city, Dad.” She promised, smiling. “I miss it a lot. ...I’m a little worried Mom’ll finally come back, and she won’t know where to find us. Y’know?”

“I know,” he whispered, gathering her into another hug. “Alright. I’ll think about it. It only matters if I win, anyway. Right?” He grinned sardonically.

“Which you absolutely will!” Charlie cheered, standing up. “C’mon, Dad, put me in charge of something!”

“Go ahead and hitch up Dazzle, kiddo. I think it only needs a couple more adjustments.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” She gave him a snappy salute before rushing back out up to the stables.

[ermimliterallysilly]

I feel like every week I try to write a Soukoku fic but it never even gets past the planning/ideas stage. For once I actually have ideas and a base plot line and I’m so happy but I’m literally fucking stuck on trying to figure out what kind of electric guitar chuuya would have. I’ve literally gotten everything else ready to start this fic but I have no idea what guitar to give him. Grrr. Fml

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

okay. okay. im gonna actually get this done now.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

me, staring at the same blank document for 5+ hours: writing is my passion✨🔥🗣️🔥✨🔥🗣️

[ladycrimsonandblack]

I love how, despite Luffy consistently being the most popular character, we as a fandom go through great pains to avoid writing from his POV. If you check any other fandom on ao3, you'll find that most fics were written from the favorite character POV, or at least include it. But not One Piece. We've collectively decided that the mindset of this dumbass who literally blurts out his every thought is a bit too hard to get into. His inner voice is the same as his outer voice, but making him the narrator is the stuff of nightmares. Luffy goes through 1000 chapters with his every thought and motive out in the open, and you would think that would make it easier but no. He's one of the most straightforward characters I've ever seen, and trying to think from his perspective is like looking at everything a bit sideways. Man just doesn't make sense, and it doesn't even matter that, canonically, his head is empty. It just makes the situation even funnier.

[deviouz]

jason todd who fucks you harder when you try to refrain from making any little sound, any lewd facial expression, any telling that he’s got you practically soaking his cock with your arousal. you might try to hold back from letting him know just how well he’s fucking you, but your eyes always tell. they get glazed over and half-lidded with blown out pupils. god, there’s nothing he adores more than seeing them widen, seeing tears well up in your waterline after a particularly well placed thrust.

he’ll cage you in between his arms and look deep into those pretty eyes with a smug smirk plastered on his face, give you no where to look but at him. he’s got your body shuddering with every thrust, hands desperately grasping anywhere but him to find reprieve, but that plan inevitably falters. arms wound around his shoulders, body bucking upwards with every punctuated thrust, jason finally manages to break you. he’s got you damn near screaming on his cock in a matter of no time, and he couldn’t be more pleased with himself.

[amysnotdeadyet]

Good Steve

Another! And then I have to go cook dinner. Stupid reality.

My darling @newtypeshadow asked for a somewhat complicated Steddie from Stranger Things plot, so she gets 555 words.

If there was one thing Eddie Munson was known for — besides shredding on the guitar — it was being protective of his boyfriend. Corroded Coffin were big enough that when they got outed the subsequent dip in record sales didn't tank their careers.

The metal scene was all about people living their lives outside of social conventions, after all.

Eddie did a cover of Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" to open every concert that tour. Steve came along the way he always did. Instead of hanging with the other WAGs, he wore a staff shirt and assisted everywhere backstage. He'd learned a ton of useful skills in his years touring with them, and was always happy to help.

It took new guys some time to figure that out, though.

"Why the fuck is he here?" asked the guy who would be known as Bad Steve for the duration of his employment. He was a lighting expert of some renown, but he'd been caught in traffic on the way to the gig, so Steve had started setup while they waited.

"You're late," said Nate through the headset.

Steve emerged from beneath the boards already talking. "They need to solder #17, it's just not connecting." He turned to Bad Steve with a charming, boyish grin. "Oh, hey! I'm Steve, happy to lend a hand."

"You're Munson's boytoy." Bad Steve, unfortunately, had not muted his headset.

A dark 'ooooh' went through the line from several sources.

Steve's expression shuttered. "Check it or don't, but don't blame me if it goes out. Chart's over there."

Eddie came crashing into the booth, looking like a hot mess. "Stevie, baby, I need your touch."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You need me to do your eyeliner again because you smudged it already."

"Yep," said Eddie. "Oh, and Bad Steve, do consider who might be listening, hm?"

Steve let Eddie put his hands in the back pocket of his admittedly small jeans shorts, not even bothering to glance back to where Bad Steve was fuming.

A few hours later, when #17 had been soldered and the show was underway, Bad Steve got to see why Eddie's Steve was the favorite.

A nazi punk managed to get onstage while security was breaking up a fight elsewhere, and Steve flew out of wings with fire in his eyes to tackle the guy before he got past the monitors. Long legs pinned the guy's back to the floor, and he palmed the guy's head like a basketball, leaning in to say something there was no mic to pick up.

The guy tried to get up and got his face slammed into the stage for his trouble, Steve clearly in control even when the punk tried to swipe with a switchblade. The knife clattered away as Steve brought his own arm down on the guy's hand, smashing it into the monitor with a crunching sound and the screech of feedback.

The rest of security finally arrived to confiscate the knife and the nazi. Steve let him up, holding his own hands out while they hauled him away.

At that point, no one could blame Eddie for the scorching kiss that followed.

"Well," said Eddie into the mic, once Steve was safely offstage. "That was fuckin' hot, right?"

The cheers that followed were almost as deafening as the music.

[mewtwo24]

Not to be That Guy but like.

Am I the only one that can't stop thinking about how Tianlang-Jun says about Luo Binghe that he pretends to be cold-hearted like his mother. The hint of fondness there, the heartache in that utterance.

Like it drives me absolutely insane. Imagining her putting on a front of strength, cold and driven and unrelenting. Why does TLJ say that about her. Did she secretly look for solutions that meant reconciling with demons instead of hurting them when her sect wasn't looking? (I wonder this because I feel like his weird fondness for SQQ would lowkey track if it's connected to the woman he once loved.) Did he mean that she was tasked with basically assassinating him and she fell in love with him instead (re: failed step one)? Did he mean that she was fond and doting in her own way (e.g. conceding he was attractive, paying for his exploits and humoring him)? Did he mean that, like LBH, she thought that power would be the thing to protect her--and that it was disguising a person who was deeply and privately wounded? All four????? I don't need sleep I need a n s w e r s

Did she know about the Huanhua Palace Master's skeevy ass intentions before she met TLJ? Or did those only come to significant light after she fell in love with TLJ? Is that why she never anticipated that level of betrayal, because initially she had no intention of being with anyone romantically? And HHPM just assumed she would be under his thumb forever?? Was she furious at her own indiscretion or did she try to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip, a way to try to stop the immortals of Cang Qiong Mountain from attacking TLJ (plus the bonus of marriage entrapment no takesies backsies this is where LBH gets it from)? Did she try to use that claim on her to dissuade HHPM from his covetous advances, framing herself as tainted so that she could finally escape? Did she dream of a life by TLJ's side, far away from Cang Qiong Mountain?

Like. Literally every single permutation of what this could mean guts me to hell. Do you ever just cry about tianxi because I--[loud bawling noises]

[lizardkingeliot]

me: i'm fine

the tender voice of lestat de lioncourt, separated from the love of his life for decades with no idea where he is or how to find him, turning on a reel in my head since 3 o'clock this morning: mon cher are you ill what's happened to you mon cher are you ill what's happened to you mon cher are you

[juustozzi]

demonic iruma? yes. very self-conscious demonic iruma? yessss.

[missmisnomer]

Nose boop incoming, prepare yourself

@sugarpasteltmnt The latest chapter took my wig and flung it into fucking orbit. Still haven't recovered it yet. Maybe Void can go grab it for me real quick.

Follow this silly little fucker's misadventures on AO3

[killerpancakeburger]

Y/N: *staring at a picture of Captain MacTavish* *sighs wistfully* 22!Soap: What does he have that I don't!? Y/N: Hmm... the scar? Scars are sex- Ghost: SOAP NO Soap: SOAP YES *evades Ghost and keeps trying to recreate 09!Soap's eye scar on himself*

[missingn000]

hey all, i wrote a goth family fic about the fallout of mihawk accidentally taking zoro's eye. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

happy reading!!