#this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS idk why i never posted it before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sssammich · 3 months

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hello quizno’s! :D

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

💋 so about this rojascorp you mentioned…….

lmao thank you sidetwang

thanks for copying and pasting for my benefit

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

hmm idk actually; they're mostly probably wips from fandoms that i have since left or just never knew what to do with. that's kinda boring, but there really aren't, like, secret wips. i try to finish my wips even if it takes weeks/months/years. for example, there's a grief fic i wanna write about for revue starlight that's been sitting in the lazy susan since 2022 and i think i'm only now ready to write it.

but there are also some wips that i think have just passed its time and that i probably won't touch again (but never say never!)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

oh very well this is actually for my rosebird (summer rose/raven branwen from rwby) divorce AU that i was thinking about; was able to write out like 2k of it this past weekend. i'll post the snippets after the cut because i am sometimes considerate. and also i just decided to make it a little baby love triangle with vernal because i am so nice

and also because you probably do not give a shit about that, i added a snippet for a supercorp romcom i am thinking about!

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

god uh idk what do my readers hate? please tell me anonymous is turned on

thinking about this though i guess maybe i enjoy using 'says' or 'said' 98% of the time and maybe my readers hate that honestly im not sure just tell me it's fine yall can be honest

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

lol what does this even mean!!

uh i mean i would say dickfic has some potentially incriminating mail tampering crimes and maybe dolores is not so wholly innocent so who knows

(am i an idiot? please tell me if i did this bit wrong)

💋 so about this rojascorp you mentioned…….

which one? the sad one or the happy one?

sad one: it's based off of a sad song and i am very excited about that. it's a breakup fic, im just gonna be upfront about that

happy one: it's a reunion and a coming back together.

they're modern AUs i think because im incapable of writing any real AUs

oh maybe that's something my readers hate, that i can't write AUs lol but i enjoy them

ANYWAY thanks for sendimg me these questions

fanfic ask game

fic snippets below the cut

rosebird snippet:

She's not immune to cabin fever, so she leaves the wreckage of her house and drives her truck downtown, parking it right in front of one of the three competing bars they have on Main Street.

When she pushes the glass door forward, the bell above it rings. She glances up, looks at the patina of the metal before meeting the bartender's eye.

Without a single word, Raven walks up to the corner of the bar just as the bartender approaches with a rag thrown over her shoulder.

"What're you having?"

"Just a beer for now."

"What kind?"

"Whatever's available."

The bartender studies her, but Raven just scans the room before taking a seat on the empty stool. She watches as the bartender takes a glass and flips it right side up before placing it under the draft spigot, tilted to the side until only a sliver of foam sits at the very top.

"Tab?" the bartender asks just as she places the glass in front of Raven.

Raven nods just before taking a sip of her beer.

The bartender leaves her alone, especially when a gaggle of girls walk in for some type of girls' night out. Her red eyes trail after the giggling movements of the six women sitting around one of the big tables towards the center of the open room. The regulars pay them no mind, even as their volume increases.

She scowls when a group of young guys filter through the bar and multiply the volume when they meet with the young women already there. So much so that she downs her scotch and orders for another.

The bartender quietly places another glass in front of hers, smirking at her, like they're sharing a secret. She just nods, pushes the empty glass from her hands in exchange.

"You new around here?" the bartender asks, leaning forward on her left side, her sleeve tattoo in full display. She's a bit on the younger side for Raven's tastes, but her short pixie cut and pale blue eyes have caught her attention.

"Depends."

"Haven't seen you around here before. I'd notice."

She lets out a small amused chuckle, wonders how much this woman believes this line she's giving Raven. "New enough."

"Where do you live?"

"That's at least a four drink question, and we're only on two."

The bartender plucks two shot glasses from underneath the counter and pours rum into both of them. She then slides one by Raven's hand, nodding towards it when she grabs hold of the one in front of her.

She plays along and grabs the shot glass, holds it up where the bartender clinks it and keeps her eyes steady when they both shoot, their hands dropping at the same time onto the counter.

"Now that's four," the bartender states.

Raven shakes her head at this woman's audacity all while the heat of the rum courses down her stomach. "You don't need to worry about where I live."

The bartender laughs at having been bested. She's just about to say something to Raven when someone calls for her, the name Vernal coming out from one of the regulars at the opposite end of the bar.

"Duty calls," Vernal says before retrieving the shot glasses and placing them in some bin under the counter. Raven doesn't say anything, just watches the woman leave to take care of the other patrons.

For the next ten minutes, she watches Vernal walk the length of the bar to create and serve so many drinks at once. It's impressive, all told. Every now and again, she catches Vernal turning towards her, like making sure she hasn't left yet. She doesn't, not right away, happy to nurse her beer. At one point, Vernal throws her a wink when she sees Raven's eyes dip down to her ass only to come back when their eyes meet. She's only a little bit ashamed, but she doesn't react, just takes a sip of the last dregs of her drink.

When the last drop of her beer passes through her lips, she quietly places her glass on the counter. Slowly, she slips her hand to the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a few folded bills. It's not until she sees Vernal preoccupied with some new customers that she decides to slink away from the bar, tucking her payment and generous tip under her empty glass.

She slips out right behind a couple definitely on a date walks in.

supercorp romcom snippet:

When Lena finds a stack of mail on her desk first thing Monday morning, she doesn’t expect a wedding invitation. Glancing at the K. Danvers at the top corner of the envelope, she frowns when nothing comes to mind with that name. She thinks perhaps it’s one of her employees that she’s just not familiar with. With a smooth swipe of her gold albatross-designed letter opener, she opens the envelope and tugs at the card inside.

She’s surprised to find the invitation reaching her desk, since Jess normally screens these letters for her

Her eyes furrow in confusion when she reads the card.

You are cordially invited to the wedding between Kara Zor-El Danvers and Future Spouse

That gives Lena pause. Future spouse?

She skims through the rest of the wedding details. She then presses the intercom button for her secretary.

“Jess?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor?”

She rolls her eyes at her secretary’s adamant insistence of referring to her by her last name despite her efforts to have Jess call her Lena.

“Can you run the name Kara Danvers through our employee roster?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor. I’ll send it right away.”

When she hangs up, she turns to the smaller card insert with the RSVP request. Her first inclination is to decline, if not altogether just hand the entire thing to Jess to take care of. Yet it’s the term Future Spouse that has her pausing, her curiosity quite piqued at the thought of a mystery spouse. Does this Kara Danvers not really know?

With a thoughtful tap of the card against her chin, she decides there’s no reason to expend energy thinking about it now. She’ll find out soon enough when Jess gets back to her.

#sideguitars #replies #ask meme #the rosebird snippet is definitely empty of the rose bit but listen we gotta build up the tension #for those who care raven is a butch contractor in this fic

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kazumaple · 9 months

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born to die ꨄ haikaveh

art by @/mezudy678 on twt!!

tw | suicide ideation, death, alchoholism.

word count | 1,424 words ★ genre | angst, mentally ill kaveh, mental illness, major character death, au where haitham dies and kaveh is sad basically, kaveh is delusional, like in the traditional sense, depression/depression-like symptoms, me monopolising on lana del rey's lyrical genius<33

a/n | this has been sitting in my drafts for i kid you not over 6 months i think?!?! so yeah i just thought i should post it before the new year! i ruminated over the ending for so long but yknow new year new me so i just posted it. idk why i always make kaveh suffer but here is he suffering again. enjoy!?!?

link to my masterlist/how to request!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I’ll be waiting for you in heaven, my love.”

The firm grip on Kaveh’s hand loosens as he feels his lover’s strength wane, taking not just his own, but Kaveh’s life force with it too.

No, no… just a little longer, please.

“But heaven is a place on Earth with you,” the blonde sniffles, embracing Alhaitham for the last time, “Don’t leave me…I still need you.”

A chuckle erupts from the man next to him, and at that moment, Kaveh wishes he could loop that sound and listen to it forever, to keep Alhaitham in a world of his own design, where they could live together in the grandest of castles, all designed by Kaveh himself.

He would construct them the most convenient house. Two study rooms for when they want to keep their distance from each other, a private library for Alhaitham, and a garden filled with all of Lesser Lord Kusanali’s creations, the plants being residents of the home just as much as Alhaitham and Kaveh would be.

Kaveh sees Alhaitham, chuckling as he does now, smiling at Kaveh, his face aged a little with time, small folds of skin wrinkling around his eyelids as he beams, his happiness radiating, forcing Kaveh to smile along with him. If only time would permit it. Alhaitham is smiling at Kaveh, and he thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He wants to sketch this moment to make it permanent. To cherish the final moments he has with his lover.

“You’ll be fine, Kaveh,” Alhaitham puts a hand under Kaveh’s chin, forcing the older man to meet his deep green eyes, “I love you.”

By this point, Kaveh’s vision is white, and he barely notices Alhaitham pull him for one last kiss until their lips touch. The kiss is gentle and delicate, too delicate for Kaveh’s liking. The lack of strength only serves as a reminder of his lover’s fading energy. Kaveh pulls away for breath, his golden locks now in disarray across his face, the crimson hairclips that once kept his elegant plait together now in mayhem.

“I love you too.”

Those are the last words Alhaitham hears before his vision fades, the silhouette of the man he loves the most looming over him, a teardrop the last thing he feels before he slips into the calming embrace of death.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thoughts race across Kaveh's mind like a marathon, as if each thought had something of utmost importance to attend to, leaving the blonde highly disoriented. Even more disoriented than he would usually be at times like this, because at the moment, Kaveh has downed enough litres of alcohol to provide the weekly water intake of a family of 6.

It’s at times like this when he can’t keep his thoughts at bay. Kaveh tries his best. He really does. He tries his best to seem okay. To maintain the façade of normalcy ever since that fateful night. He goes to work, completes his commissions on time, eats all of his meals, and speaks to all of his friends. He meets Cyno and Tighnari every Saturday at Lambad’s tavern for a round of Genius Invokation TCG, his thoughts steering clear of the empty seat to his left. The seat which nobody would dare take after the loss of its original occupant.

Kaveh really does try.

But on nights like this, he can’t help but crack. When he comes home to nobody, no annoying, shrill voice to welcome him, nobody to nag him about his health or his rent. These are the moments when he feels truly lonely, the only reliable friend he can turn to being a tall glass of wine.

He sits alone in their usual spot. Top floor, at the back, so that people are less likely to find them. He knows Alhaitham can’t take people coming up to him after his work hours. Kaveh doesn’t mind. But this is just one out of the long list of habits Kaveh has kept after Alhaitham’s passing. No matter where he may be, heaven or hell, Celestia or Khaenri’ah’s ruins, a part of him will always live on through Kaveh. Always.

At some point, though, Kaveh stopped being alone. He started hearing him again. The gentle words of his lover wafting through his eardrums. At first, it was subtle. A few comments here and there.

“That client is a jackass.”

“Go to sleep, Kaveh.”

“Come on, love, you’ve got a meeting soon.”

But then it became ubiquitous. The sweet, honey-like voice of his deceased lover followed Kaveh around wherever he went. At first, Kaveh thought he was going insane. Now, he doesn’t care enough to worry.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, love?” A gentle voice fills his eardrums in an instant, a deep chuckle resounding with it, “Though I’d love to hold you again, I’d like you to live a long, full life before then. Preferably not dying of alcohol poisoning.”

Kaveh scoffs and crosses his arms, “I don’t have to listen to you! What are you doing to do anyway?”

The blonde hears a deep sigh, “I suppose you’re right. I can’t force you to go home, but it would make me very happy if you did.”

Kaveh, in his drunken stupor, actually considers this. With a clear head, Kaveh never would have considered this a valid argument. Kaveh will do what he wants. But alas, the hurricane engulfing his mind causes a lapse in judgment.

“Fine,” he says, begrudgingly, “Only if you cuddle with me when we get home.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Kaveh then gets up and stumbles out of the tavern, paying the bill off his own tab this time. He supposes a benefit of Alhaitham’s passing was that his wealth and estate were passed on to Kaveh. Though this by no means makes up for the gaping hole in Kaveh’s heart, he is happy with the convenience his newfound wealth has brought him.

The walk home passes in a daze, Kaveh blames this for his lack of comprehension, as by the time he's come to his senses, he’s tucked into bed, wrapped in the arms of Alhaitham once more.

He looks into his lover’s eyes. The orange islands in the sea of green standing out more than ever before. Alhaitham’s arms wrap around him protectively, and he feels the safest he has in months.

“Haitham,” Kaveh sniffles, “It’s been so hard without you here to guide me… I miss you… so much. Every time I think about you it feels as though somebody is ripping my heart out of my chest and stabbing it repeatedly with a knife.”

“C-Cant you come back to me?”

The soft sound of Alhaitham’s honey-sweet voice drips through Kaveh’s ears, “I’m here now, love. I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

Kaveh groans, “I suppose so.”

“Let’s go to bed now,” Alhaitham whispers soothingly in Kaveh’s ear, “You have a big day ahead of yourself tomorrow.”

Kaveh lets the diluted voice of his lover lull him to sleep, his eyes getting heavier until they slide shut, and Kaveh surrenders to the deliria of dreaming for the night.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The sun streaks through the gap in the curtains, its rays hitting Kaveh’s face, illuminating his vermillion eyes as they blink open, the fatigue of sleep dissipating. The first thing he feels when he comes to his senses is the utter lack of warmth in his bed. The very bed itself becomes a black hole, Kaveh stumbling over himself to get as far away from it as possible. The very bed that was once the safe haven of him and his lover, turns into the very thing that seems to trap him.

H-He was just here.

The soft embrace of death feels more tempting than ever now. It would be easy for Kaveh to sink into it; his thoughts being engulfed by a soft lulling whisper, convincing him to let go of this world and all the pain it has caused. Nonetheless, he gets up. Brings himself to his feet. Walking towards the bathroom, he surveys the empty walls of his once lively house, accepting the soft, lonely numbness that has become a hallmark of his existence.

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charlessmiths-wife · 7 months

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season four: fuseboxes biggest wasted opportunity.

(this has been sitting in my drafts for a few months now, almost a year 😭 may be slightly irrelevant to post not given how all talk of season four appears to have died out and looking back I’m not really saying anything that no one’s said before - but still, I’ll post it for the sake of it! :))

before starting, I'm going to admit, seasons one, two, and four are the only seasons I've ever fully played. I've never completed a playthrough of season three or five, they could both be brilliant idk (though I'm guessing not, judging by what others have said).

on my recent playthrough of litg s4 (yet another Angie route, some things never change) I was suddenly struck with the realisation that season four could've been gold for fusebox... and yet, it isn't.

i think it's important to recognise season four has its successes.

-> in terms of diversity, season four is arguably by far the best. it delivers a diverse range of characters from all ethnic backgrounds. it has gender diversity (limited, all be it, and there's still far for fusebox to go in this area - but it was a start). it delivers two good female li options (at least, imo) with a slow burn female li and one you can couple up with immediately (again, fusebox still is far to go in terms of properly catering to its wlw/lgbtq players... but... it was a start). finally, unlike seasons one and two, it doesn't always push this "girls are more drama" narrative which can sometimes be seen, notably in season two. the seasons depiction of female characters still isn't perfect, don't get me wrong, but in the case of season four I'd chalk this up to the fact it had ass writing, as opposed to season two, where I genuinely think some of the female characters suffered from misogynistic writing.

-> the characters are great. at least, in concept. I personally love Angie, Youcef, and Bruno - yet I can recognise the concepts of other characters are gold. like Will? an islander with commitment issues who slowly learns to open themselves up to love? could've been gold. Angie? a woman who slowly falls in love with her best friend? discovering not only her sexuality but also herself in the process? THE OPPORTUNITIES WERE FUCKING ENDLESS. Tom? Youcef? Thabi? Lexi? EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. HAD. A. PERFECT. CONCEPT.

-> the designs were good. this is a personal opinion, but I think the designs of season four characters were much more in the league of season one and two than season three and five. again, this is a subjective opinion - but its one I do believe and see as a strength. (I mean... have we seen Angie? Thabi? Najuma? Will? I'd have been all OVER some of the mfs in that season).

in short, a huge strength of season four is that it, in theory, had a diverse and interesting cast of characters and routes - all of whom came from different backgrounds and circumstances.

in theory.... season four was gold.

except, in practicality, it wasn't.

now, I could talk for days about the weaknesses of season four - but at the end of the day I think it all comes back to what dozens of people have already said about me.

the writing was - in the most simplest of terms - absoloute balls.

there are dozens of examples of this.

take the dylan drama. what was the writing of that? Dylan was written to be a complete untrustworthy asswhole, how could we have ever believed anything that was coming out of his mouth when the man was characterised to be a liar from practically the first moment he opened his mouth?

now... had Dylan been characterised as some kind of likeable charmer... the drama potential would have been ENDLESS. it would have been far easier to see why MC/ their LI might believe Dylan.. and the angst that could have been produced from that!! endless!!

in my personal opinion, the Dylan drama is just generally dumb and could have easily been sorted out with one (1) three line conversation between MC and their li of "hey, did you cheat on me or is Dylan talking shite?" "yea/no" "aight bet" - but still, even tho it is dumb, it could have been made less dumb!!

and there's tonnes of drama which could have been great in theory but was awful in practice. like the lexi/kobi drama. or the juliet/kobi drama. or the valentina coming in and wanting our partner drama.

SO MANY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES!!!

one example of a HUGE missed opportunity in my mind is the Angie situation.

don't get me wrong, I fucking love Angies route. I only ever seem capable of playing it on replays, and I think Angie is one of my fave litg characters... well, ever! BUT HER ROUTE COULD HAVE HAD SO MUCH MORE ANGST. I STAND BY THAT.

throughout the entirety of season four, Angie always seems uncomfortable with romantic feelings. she says it herself she has trouble finding a connection, and she's incredibly cynical.

and then, she finds out she does have a connection - with none other than her best friend! who's a girl!

LIKE..? HELLO FUSEBOX! THE POTENTIAL FOR THE MOST ANGSTY LESBIAN STORY EVER FUCKING TOLD WAS RIGHT. THERE.

it's always bothered me how Angie, for the most part, seems chill with the fact she's just had a major life realisation about herself.

because, trust me, as someone who's been Angie before, it's not easy!

you spend your entire life thinking your one thing, then you find out your the exact opposite, and (in Angie's case) you've been lying to yourself for the better part of 30 years.

THE FUCKING ANGST WAS THERE.

give me angie distancing herself from MC because she's so in denial of her feelings and she thinks ignoring them will make them go away.

give me angie slowly coming to terms with the fact that, she can't ignore them. she can't make them go away. she's a lesbian, she always has been - and she can't deny that part of her anymore.

give me angie tearfully coming to the MC - choking up an apology/explanation and a confession of feelings all at once.

and just... give me more angst. the angst that should have came with someone discovering something huge about them after 29 years.

but looking beyond Angie. I think me biggest wish in terms of better writing is not only better writing for the drama, but better writing for the routes.

bruno, james, and najuma share largely the same route. most of the li's have the same/similar dialogue - and pretty much all of them have the same reaction to the dylan scenario.

these people are individuals - they have different reactions. I want to see that. the players deserve to see that.

we get it in season one. we get it in season two. we deserved it in season four.

TLDR; I think it's a mistake to assume season four was doomed from the start- it wasn't, and by saying so it almost feels as if we're letting fusebox off the hook, so to speak, for it being bad.

season four had the same concept of drama mingled with a unique cast that seasons one and two had, yet it didn't have the same quality simply because fusebox couldn't be bothered anymore. they didn't want to put in the writing and produce a genuinely good season.

season four was fusebox's biggest wasted opportunity - dare I say it could have been in the same league as seasons one and two, had Fusebox actually been bothered to do their job.

#litg #litg s2 #litg s1 #litg s4 #litg angie #litg youcef #litg bruno #fusebox sucks #season four had sm potential #fanfic writers prove this time and time again #truly the real backbone of this community #as always I welcome other opinions!

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undead-potatoes · 8 months

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SUNNY, did someone ask about Aurora and Jay and whether they like kids?? Do they get along with them, are annoyed by them? Would they want kids for themselves? How have they interacted with the kids in the bg3 world so far?

No-one did, so thanks for asking B)

This is gonna be long as usual so 🐻 with me

- - -

Much like she's with people in general, Aurora is kinda bad with kids. She likes them, quite a lot in fact, but she's awkward and doesn't know how to interact with them in a natural way. She does find them so so charming though, and enjoys being around them and observing their antics. I think she admires them too for how resilient they can be, how even in the face of so many horrors they're still filled with so much of that childlike joy.

But the Urge makes interactions difficult, since they're often extra gruesome around kids (as you pointed out). She tries her best to interact casually with any kids coming her way, but I think she also keeps her distance for the most part while the Urge rages on. Yenna might be the hardest one for her, since she's someone Rory has to interact with on a regular basis. It goes well for the most part, but I think Yenna probably picks up on Rory's weird vibes and just decides to keep interactions to a minimum (maybe she thinks Rory doesn't like her? Like what did she do wrong?)

She does want kids of her own she discovers, once she's free to live life on her own terms, but she's terrified of passing on any bhaalspawn bullshit to a biological child, so that's a route she doesn't even dare explore. There are other ways of becoming a parent though, and I can see her and Shadowheart bringing up a child together at some point (and I imagine Astarion is just mommy's weird boyfriend who teaches them all the wrong things and is over there like "I hate this kid. If anything ever happens to them I'm gonna turn into John Wick tho.")

- - -

First of all, I just posted a Jay backstory bit that's been sitting in my drafts since October, which adds some context to Jay's relationship with kids already in his life.

So very firmly on the other side of the scale we have Jay, who is really great with kids, possibly even better than with most adults. He knows how to talk to them in a way that makes them feel seen and respected, while still keeping in mind that they're children. Chatting with them, joking around, providing them comfort, it all comes pretty natural to him.

He obviously has a soft spot for the tiefling orphans. Looking at them he sees a reflection of himself from 40 years ago, and many of their schemes genuinely amuse him, though some of them are uuuh a little worrying. I think he tries to sway Mol a little bit since she's their leader, to steer her away from the worst of it, but she's just too stubborn for that. Her whole ordeal with Raphael really stressed him out tbh.

Yenna is an interesting one bc usually I would just write her off and say she never joined the party (it's a bit silly tbh), but Jay absolutely would pick her up and have her tag along if he thought she would be safer with them than being on her own. I assume they get along just fine (she mostly just has the personality of "pleasant child" in-game), and I think he enjoys teaching her stuff, for better and for worse. He's totally the kind of guy who will teach kids some questionable things (often by accident), and then go "no wait, do as I say, not as I do".

I initially (like months ago) thought of him as someone who might want kids, but I'm not so sure anymore. At least not in a way where he'll actively go out of his way to have children; any child that just happens to fall into his lap is a different story. This is partly why I'm a little conflicted about Yenna post-game, like what WOULD he do? He'd be very hesitant to send any child to an orphanage unless there were no other options, so idk where she ends up.

Overall I think he's just fine being everyone's favorite uncle. The kids love him, he brings the coolest gifts, and he gets to interact with them on a frequent basis in smaller bursts. He's the first anyone asks to babysit, and he almost always says yes, much to Gale's annoyance I'm sure ("but what about our plans, love" "we can do that tomorrow, they never get time off from the kids").

#Sunny Answers #axiolotl #OC: Tav #OC: Aurora Dawnbringer #Jay learn to say no challenge: [impossible]#honestly regardless of whether Durge can have kids w/o them becoming bhaalspawn I'm like tempted to make her infertile anyways #like ONE of the two things she was made for and she can't even do that right (tho that one's on you Bhaal)

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ofsgiathan · 2 years

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i just wanted to make a quick post and say that i do genuinely apologize for not replying back to a lot of stuff whenever i make super small starter calls and whatnot. i always tell myself that i'll throw the shit into my drafts only to ... like ... completely forget not even five minutes later. it's because i, quite unfortunately, suffer from the "out of sight out of mind" syndrome. and this isn't something that happens just on here. it's an actual thing i suffer from even irl and it's a fucking problem. idk if i'm adhd and have just never been properly diagnosed or if it just has to do with my gad ( + paranoia ) and mdd. again idk.

this is honestly one of the reasons as to why why i don't even get mad for people taking forever to reply to me. it'd be extremely hypocritical of me and is, without a doubt, 100% double standards and we don't support double standards in this household! like ... if you're one of those people who expects everyone to reply asap then you honestly need to go touch some real fucking grass or something because people have lives outside of tumblr. i'm just saying ... and that actually leads me to my next reason.

i get that shit happens. be it because of people forgetting or real life got in the way or whatever the case may be. idk and idc. we're all here to sit back, relax, and have fun. we're not here to tell our life stories. and hell ... that's honestly one of the many reasons as to why i reblog tons of memes tbh?? because i know some people thrive off of memes. i also try to reply to open starters if i have the muse for it! now ... granted ... the interactions might be short lived but hey! it's something. and something's better than nothing ... right??

but this is something that i'm trying to work on. i know that my muse might not always be there and / or i'm going to forget periodically. i just wanted to tell y'all that it's okay to be forgetful! it's okay to not always be active on here 24 / 7! it's okay if you only have the muse for certain things and not for others! it's okay to drop threads after months of not replying to it! it's okay to be human!

#out of wings 》》》 mundane

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cwstau · 10 months

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20 Questions for fic writers

@cchapsticck tagged me and given we should have an update on CWSTAU by the end of this month, figured I should post.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

4 - Most of my work isn't published. I've written a lot but just...not put it out there. I've always been a chicken. However one I archived/deleted and the other is on an account I don't associate with this one, and is on long term hiatus. The other is on someone else's account that will be explained below and just, /gestures.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

18,760 (published) but to give ya'll some idea of how much of Conventional Weapons is sitting waiting to be edited/refined, I have 14k sitting in gdocs

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things, Danger Days. This is a labor of love towards both fandoms, and when the main CW is done, I have pieces that are going expand with both the characters of ST and DD. Any other non-DD things will go on my other account (not associated here).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

adlfkja only got the one baby. But I'm so thankful for each and every one of those kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! It may not always be coherent or the best comment, but I try to give people some sort of response as they've gone that extra mile to provide me a comment. Every kudo, every comment means so much to me. Seriously, I wrote this expecting an audience of like, 2 people, and knowing so many more are enjoying it means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There is a timeloop fic that remains in the drafts that has a horrible ending, but I don't know if it will ever be published. As of right now, no angst endings here. Complicated, messy, but not angst ridden, really.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The ending of Conventional Weapons is already written--its been written for a long time (before the middle parts were even written) and I don't know if it's the happiest ending, but it's the most hopeful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, I'm too niche for that lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Smut with emotion? IDK. There are plans for smut in CW but I think they are going to be 'missing scenes' published after the fact that people can read/not read at their leisure. I enjoy writing it, but it isn't really what this story is about, and I honestly don't feel that it works with the main body of this story. Hence, the "click here to read the sex" aspect of what is going to happen. The 'sequel' things may be more explicit, as they aren't the direct story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Gestures to what this entire blog/project is about.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

While not a traditional co-written piece, @cchapsticck has provided insight that has really helped me move this along, and the key mantra in the fic itself is from them. Their art has also really been important as well. They sell themselves short on their additions, really. Their help, esp early on, in helping me shape the world, means that this fic is what it is now.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Legit could never choose one

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the story that's on hiatus may never be finished. And hey, that's okay. I have a few that I've got outlines for, that may never get past that. I'm a slow writer, I always have been. I really dont want to let anything else get rolling until CW is done anyways.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Look I'm going to be honest, I have no fucking idea. I will say I think I'm pretty good at characterization, and I usually feel confident in my choices for the character--in a 'yes they would do this given the situation' and a 'yes they would say that'. Given it's an AU I get more wiggle room, but I feel really strongly about Steve and Eddie's characterization, and I know that not everyone feels the same way I do regarding them--but I'm confident in my character choices in the story. [This goes for my other stories as well but--]

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate writing action. I suck at it, and I try to avoid it, despite evidence to the contrary. Trying to keep track of all the balls in the air is just annoying as hell. Also despite this fic having a real overarching plot, I have really wanted to keep it 'vibes' based more than plot, cause things get to plot heavy and I start to worry I'm a bore. It's where my insecurities start to sneak in, which lets my writing to become a lot weaker in turn.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Note: all my statements are assuming you aren't fluent in the language you are trying to write in, and you're a native English speaker. Maybe a word or two is okay? But unless you're fluent, you're gonna make it sound weird. If a character is speaking in German, just say they are speaking in German. Unless it is absoLUTELY important to the narrative that the phrase be in a foreign language, in the fic--do the work to make sure it's correct. Get a native speaker to check it, put in the translation somewhere. But again, ask yourself once, twice, three times if it's necessary.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I didn't consider it fanfic at the time but I absolutely wrote a 'fix it' chapter for the end of The Great Gatsby for class once lol. That was the beginning.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This one. Again, I know it's niche, but CW is such a labor of love, and means so much to me. It's not perfect, I'm slow going because of school and work, but I've never felt so secure in my own work and felt such joy when I'm working on it.

#tagged in #meta #posts from L

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lizzieblabbers · 11 months

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octobery bery long ????

so remember the vacation entry i promised to post?? well... in my defense, tho, life came in the way and i had to prioritize urgent big girl stuff so i really had no time to sit down in front of my laptop and recall all my province memories

but it's sitting sa drafts na, will not set a date anymore, it'll just... be up

so anyway

october was so long wtf hHASDHADHA

tODAY'S THE TENTH AND I FINALLY FOUND THE WORDS EHEHEHEH (see cleaning is the key)

so, october, to put it simply, is challenging yet rewarding. (big words from a big girl lyke me 8D *winks*

as i've mentioned in my previous post, i hadn't really had much time to kool down from the province high because i needed to be the adult that i am as soon as i arrived. it did not help that the professors had already started discussions and of course with those are activities with deadlines that were sooner than i had expected.

now, i really meant it when i said that october was sooooooo looong. or was it because i had too much on my plate that i barely had the time to rest and let time pass by? either way, it was the longest month i had this year because a lot was going on.

first week of october, i had to go somewhere, ALONE, without any idea of what am i gonna do there.

OKAY I HAVE TO STOP HERE its ten pm and i am fucking sleepy (yeah it be like that sometimes) im gonna continue this tomorrow

hi today's the day after tomorrow and wtf am i doing with my life

i have decided not to pursue the vacation post because i felt like i have already said enough about it in my previous entries (albeit trying to tone it down for, well, the said separate entry) and i think it would just be redundant??? idk, im messed up like that

ANYWAY OCTOBER

so much has happened this past month that i can't really keep track of everything. october taught me a lot of lessons which i guess i can generally apply to all aspects of my life.

for one, it taught me that life isn't and will never be black and white. there are tons of gray areas existing that we should maybe look at and examine its relevance and how it affects each of us. not saying we should always justify everything, but you know... it wouldn't hurt to have another approach to life

anyhoo why am i getting all wisdom-y word-y here, im not that smart

my october mainly revolved on school and adulting responsibilities, alongside some realizations. as for school, it took me a while to adjust to the new academic year because there has been a lot of necessary changes for a less-stressful semester but all in all i'm fine now and already on the process of hooking myself back up to how i was before the vacay.

as for adulting responsibilities, well... october 2023 is when i first received a salary for doing something!!! yay :D immediately put it in a savings account and stopped myself from buying unnecessary stuff because i really want to practice this until i already have a job (FUCK THIS ADULT THING IS GETTING REALER ANY MINUTE) and as much as possible, save save save because i know im gonna need a lot if i want to sleep peacefully at night

guess that's the highlight of my month? won't dwell too much on the negative shits because (1) i can't really remember them aotm, and (2) i don't want to remember them anymore

in case of a relapse, however, i would definitely head straight here and let out everything i think about

THAT'S IT FOR OCTOBER, THANK YEW

bubhyYEE

#october 2023 #lizzie updates #lizzie is alive thank god

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justmysicklypride · 4 years

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Bastard boy 🔪

#this has been sitting in my tags for literal months like I can see the cobwebs #'tags' I meant drafts oops #idk why I never posted it but here we go #some bitch content #izaya orihara #durarara #drrr #shizaya #I guess idk I tag every other thing as shizaya anyway #4213 #anime #crossing void

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the-slasher-files · 4 years

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WHAT A KILLER

BO’S S/O REVEALING THEY ARE ALSO A SLASHER (Vincent is also kind of in this)

TW: blood, gore, killing, swearing (that’s inevitable with Bo)

THIS has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and idk why I'm so iffy on posting it but hopefully you guys in enjoy this! It's different from a lot of what I write and I do like it, it's just specific lol.. Also the s/o in this, was the bare bones of what Amaria (my oc) started as... hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Bloodcurdling screams could be heard through the normally silent town of Ambrose as dusk fell. Crimson painted the skies and the asphalt, almost mirroring each other in perfection. Crows calling for the wasted souls Bo obliterated and Vincent could not fix.

Shuttering at the sounds heard you could not sit there on the old couch any longer, just playing with your fingers trying to push down the urges you felt deep down. They beckoned you like the crows did for flesh. You tried so hard to hide this side but it was only a matter of time you knew, the demon had to rear it’s head eventually if you really wanted to stay in Ambrose forever, and you did. You found the man of your twisted dreams here.

Before you were held in Ambrose against your will; well in the beginning it was against your will but that quickly faded and you fell madly in love with your kidnapper and the town he held so close; you were a drifter. A wanderer of gypsy’s blood. Never managing to hold in one place for more than 6 months, the only time you had a home was when you were growing up, but having a disgusting home life you left at 16. Fleeing home and trying to run from your growing desires you instead made a treaty with your urges, running towards them, allowing them to show when you were safe and comfortable.

Bo never knew, all these months as you played the part of his defenceless little housewife it was growing harder to tell him. Of course you wanted to tell him but you were scared of him not trusting you, and terrified of what he would do to you; pretty ironic when you considered doing the same things to him.

Casually you would throw a joke out there about killing someone or dreaming of snapping someone's neck, however they weren’t jokes to you. It was your wicked reality. Bo was none the wiser, but Vincent, in his quiet embers saw something beyond your delicate eyes, something he saw within himself perhaps. He started to believe your jokes and comments, carefully watching you. Wondering if for once there was a different kind of evil in the town, or if he was becoming the hunted instead of the hunter.

Climbing the stairs and reaching the bedroom you paused, pulling in a large breath and exhaling, closing your eyes. You sank to your knees against the hardwood, pulling a long black, locked plastic box from under the bed, methodically you played with the lock and swung the top open. Placing your eyes upon the weapon your body tensed but your soul relaxed, a sick war inside your head divided.

Running your hands along the cold metal of the black blade, you felt home once again, blood could almost be felt on your hands and screams faded in your ears. Hunger grew. A deep pleasure surged through you.

It was your 18 inch steel black machete; with ridges menacingly flaunting themselves across the top, like a dragon’s spine. The grip you had customized to fit your hand perfectly, needing it to act like an extension of you. It was adorned proudly with a thin rope of bright red fabric tied around the end of the handle, ripped from your first victim’s shirt, it’s tails would drift gracefully in the wind juxtaposing the damage the weapon could do.

Shaky hands picked up the weapon and it seamlessly melting into your grip, your eyes darkened as you rose from the floor, feeling your demons begin to yip and howl like a pack of starving wild dogs ready to feed. Giving yourself another deep breath in and out you kicked the box back under the bed and started down the stairs and out the front door with purpose.

The hot sticky Louisiana air hit you, flowing in your hair and the tail of fabric on your machete. Screams begin to reach you in swells, coming closer flooding you like the rising tides as a younger woman was running towards you. Under the dim streetlights she could not see what you held, for the black blade melted into the shadows perfectly, as intended. To her you were hope, a way out of her hell, maybe you could help her. The poor thing could not have been more wrong in her panic-stricken judgements.

You could smell her blood pouring from her injuries Bo inflicted and her desperate cries, it was all too much to you, it was just like blood in the water to a shark, your twisted instincts began to take over. Eyes darkened on the prey that was heedlessly bounding towards you and with one swipe, that was it. Blood was spilt. You had killed again and it felt so damn right. Looking down basking in the sight, she was slit ear to ear, the gash threatening to show the tips of the vertebrae at the back of her neck. The demons were lurching beside you pushing you forward for more. More blood. More affliction.

Studying the surroundings, Bo was nowhere to be found, unusual for him to let his prey escape his hunt. It was quiet now as you walked on down the street, yellow fluorescents guided your path, and the homes were just barren shapes acting as blinders leading you onward for the man you dreaded seeing at this moment, the demons couldn’t care less about your emotions or feelings, they just carried your body to more gore.

Rounding the corner, the gas station lights gave up a tangled mess on the ground. Two men were wrestling for some sort of weapon that glinted in the lights above them. Cursing yells, threats and grunts spilled out of both of them, one more than the other of course. Bo always had a mouth on him and no one could ever shut him up, it made you smirk as you approached, but suddenly there was a sharp yell and the stranger was on top of Bo. The man had his back to you and just had eyes for the greasy mechanic, beating him with the weapon you could now see was a wrench. You could feel a burning anger rise from your core and Bo’s howls were just fuel to the fire.

Steadily making your way up to the two wrecks of people, now standing behind the stranger you forced your long rigid blade through the core of the man, impaling him right under the sternum. Loud clanging of metal rang through the street as the man dropped the wrench as his body went limp, heaving over the weapon within him. With your boot you carefully directed the corpse off your machete and on the asphalt next to Bo, leaving your face sprayed with red from the spine of the blade.

Your eyes met with saucer wide baby blues causing you to let out a silent breathy laugh licking your lips of blood, sickly savouring the unusual copper. Bo laid on the ground a moment longer just taking in for sure what he saw from his precious angel. Just as you were about to speak but Bo beat you to it.

“I FUCKIN’ KNEW IT!” he gloated hysterically, leaving you more than a little shocked. “I KNEW IT!” Bo got to his feet and almost looked like he was going to do a little dance, you just stood there in the streetlight beginning to laugh, relived but worried as if he had hit his head or something. It was never a dull moment with Bo that’s for sure.

“Are you ok? like seriously, your beginning to scare me” you puzzled as he sauntered his way up to you cocky as ever.

“I’m fuckin’ fantastic... I knew there was something in you” he held you against his chest and put his head on yours “something awful behind those beautiful eyes, my little angel of death” you laughed against him as he kissed your crown, then pulled away looking you dead in the eyes. “Why did you think I kept you around all these months? you made me wait a while... and you know how much I hate waitin”

The words burned in your skull, was that really the only reason? Bo was still unpredictable to you in ways, especially with his dark side. Maybe he was just going to kill you now, maybe he didn’t love you, it could’ve just been the wicked charm he carried effortlessly.

Something came alive in his blue eyes, scaring you slightly but trying to play it off when you cupped his strong jaw, breathing slowly.

“People are my specialty baby” he drawled, then pulled you roughly into a kiss. Sweat, oil, cigarettes, and blood coated the kiss leaving you breathless as he often did.

Bo was right, people were his perfected craft; charming, seducing, lying, playing up the sob story about him and Vincent being in foster care after both parents died. Hell, he could speak French Cajun so he could be more versatile, and charm his way out of any situation in any part of Louisiana. Bo always knew everything you were feeling even before you said it, now that you think back on it.

“Bo? you still love me?” you hesitating in your question not sure if you wanted the answer.

This caught his attention as his jaw tensed and eyes hardened “What would make you think I don’t?... sure I would’ve liked to know earlier, sure, but this just makes you better,” he looked you up and down like a predator before coming close to your ear and purring “and hotter.” You yelped as you were suddenly tossed over his shoulder and carried down to the basement of the garage.

Fidgeting with the lock for a moment he swung the door open and placed you in his chair. “Oh, Sinclair there is a special place in hell for us, and I will meet you there” you laughed as Bo climbed on top of you, clashing his lips against yours, hungry and lustful.

#my writing #horror #slasher #slashers #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair #imagine #slasher x s/o #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #x you

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zeleniafic · 2 years

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****just to be 100% clear, this has nothing to do with the recent callouts. that individual and their many offshoot blogs have been blocked for awhile now. get’em, anna. it’s also not about the revolving door of anon bullshit. anons have never gotten to me - but my own brain, on the other hand...****

----

i think..... i’m going to be off tumblr for... a while? idk. i’m just so... deeply exhausted. i have never been truly well but i am decidedly less well now than previously, to such an extent that i don’t have the brainpower to hide it behind humor anymore. i feel like i am just a black hole of negative feelings and idk why anyone would want to interact with me when all of my shit is just... so bleak, because the ONLY stories i have any kind of inspiration to tell right now is extremely thinly veiled vent writing about things i should be talking about with the trauma counselor i was recommended to see but can’t because i can’t drive myself there without having a panic attack. i feel like i can’t hold any kind of conversation or connect with anyone without making it awkward or traumadumping, so why on earth would anyone want to talk to me??? it’s always just the same old shit i still haven’t processed from the last time we talked. and likewise for all of my works, i don’t want to post shit sitting in my drafts rn because tagging people in it feels like i’m shoving my diary in your face and any response it gets is just borne out of pity or some sense of obligation.

it just feels so fucking embarrassing at this point. i’ve always felt inadequate on here, none of these feelings are new, idk why it’s hitting SO HARD right now. maybe it’s the adhd meds i’m trying not getting along with me (god knows they’ve slaughtered my appetite and reignited the eating disorder i thought i’d buried). i actually have no idea how to tell if this is meds or just my fucked up brain. i’ve always been tired, i’ve always had s. ideation on some level of passive to active for the majority of my life since... idk, somewhere in my early teens???? who knows, certainly not MY shattered memory, but the point is none of this is new. i guess that’s the crux of the problem. none of this is new.

i got diagnosed with ptsd last month. i turned 24 last week. i have virtually no relationship with my family, no degree, no path forward in life, and i keep doing worse and worse and worse in my classes no matter how hard i try to focus on them. birthdays have always been rough but i guess this one came packaged with a mental breakdown over the realization that i am getting further and further behind in life and i STILL don’t know what to do with it, because i don’t know how to make it feel worth living knowing that i’m just... always going to be weighed down by my past no matter how hard i push it to the back of my mind.

GOD idk what i’m even saying here anymore, i don’t know how to wrap this up. i don’t know what i’m doing. sorry. i’m so dissociated out of my fucking mind 99% of the time lately i don’t even know how to fucking communicate, i can barely even keep up with what day of the week it is. i just feel so... numb. my psychiatrist said that’s the ptsd, but my mother called me a psycho when i tried to describe dissociation so you can take your pick between those two i guess.

TLDR: i’ve been using stories/characters as a vent outlet for forever now but it feels so OBVIOUS at this point and i can’t stand feeling so... exposed. i feel guilty for not having the energy to keep up with what i’m tagged in, but even if i didn’t... i feel like anything i say or post or show on here is just so loaded with baggage it’s got a net negative impact on anyone who witnesses it. i already feel like dogshit and i feel worse and worse every time i’m on here so, i’m just... gonna stay off here. i guess.

----

(on the off chance anyone actually reads all this, this isn’t like, a cry for help or anything??? don’t freak out and panic message me or smthn. it’s just... idk. an apology, i guess?? i’ve always felt like my entire existence requires an apology lmfao. i feel like i’m failing by not being present to support the ppl i love on here. which is weird bc i simultaneously feel like my absence would be a weight off their backs. isn’t that a lovely fucking contradiction my brain loves to hold onto.)

#ignore this #idk why i'm posting it actually. it just feels.... weeirrd???? not to???#idk this is just word vomit that. probably should be tagged but i don't fucking know how. um #tw eating issues #tw food mention #tw eating disorder #tw dissociation #tw suicide #maybe that will filter out anyone who definitely needs to NOT read this??? god. hopefully #genuinely my brain is not functioning properly idk wtf im doing. don't read this #zel.txt #irl #personal

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mxvladdy · 4 years

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Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!)

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing.

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this." Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back? He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #gods have mercy I wanna smooch him so bad

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roboromantic · 2 years

Text

yeah I think the tf fandom tends to have a problem with what I call continuity bleed: assuming/acting like something that's true/exists in one continuity is true/exists in most or all others

and I mean yeah, obviously they influence each other but that doesn’t mean every single detail is gonna get carried over — there’s still no definitive color for Energon for cryin’ out loud!

like when Brainstorm got killed off super early in idw2 and people were calling it homophobic when he never??? had ANY sort of characterization in idw2. Someone who didn't know anything abt idw1 wouldn't see that as homophobic at all (and imho it's a hell of a stretch even if you ARE familiar with it)

Or people getting mad abt Rescue Bots Blurr being really different from p much every other version of Blurr and like. Do y'all get mad about every single tf who changes between continuities? like I get he's a fan favorite with established traits and it's Weird (What do you MEAN Starscream’s entirely red and becomes a good guy?!?! Why’s Prowl a hippie motorcycle?!) but c'mon, we gotta mix things up a bit or everything just gets stale.

I once saw someone in the tags here say that either the whole franchise should be treated as a frivolous toy commercial or all of it should be examined as if it were a super serious story and idfk where to even begin with that. Idk how to tell you this but the goofy 80s cartoon still absolutely had political commentary and even the most gritty, dramatic, and well-written portrayal TF continuity is still ultimately made to sell plastic figures.

Personally, the thing that irks me most is g1 and especially tfa fics referring to the Primus vs Unicron mythos when they either did not exist at the time the show was created or were explicitly excluded from canon bc Derrick J Wyatt wasn't a fan of it

to be fair it gets a bit complicated what with the "oh they existed as the same beings in every continuity until some nonsense happened and now they aren't/retroactively never were" or whatever but still.

Uuuhhh I'm finally writing this to continue what that last post I reblogged was talking about but I've actually had this sitting in my drafts for a. month I think? anyway I have a note that just says

Seekers (though this leans more towards fanon)

and I don't remember where I was going with that :V I think it was probably along the lines of how fanon has kinda built up the Starscream TC and Skywarp dynamic to something that's never really existed? idw1 was probably the closest but they've never really been the ~trine~ fanon makes them out to be; TC and Skywarp are rarely even significant characters. Or maybe it was just the idea of Seekers being their own subtype of Transformers and the existence of trines in the first place and people acting like every single bot that turns into an airplane is a seeker and I could go on abt fanon seekers again but that's not the point of the post

ANYWAY I'm glad we have BotBots to give us something with next to no possible ties to previous canon beyond like. the existence of Energon and Sector 7

#BotBots spoilers #imo we need more stuff like TFA that just dumps most of your assumptions about Transformers into the garbage #and can we please move on from Primus vs Unicron and the 13 Primes I'm begging you #Chal's TF ramblings

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starlightxsvt · 4 years

Text

Hellion

pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, idk what this is

warnings: cursing

word count: around 1.5k

A/N: Firstly, happy birthday to the Jeonghan, our con man. I know I'm a day late so forgive me for that. Secondly, I've no idea what the hell I wrote. I've cancelled two other drafts I wrote for his birthday cause none of them were coming together and in the end I've decided to post this shit. Anyway, your feedback would be really appreciated in this mess of a story :').

"What's Jeonghan doing here?" You hiss to Mingyu who has a hard time prying his eyes off of Chaeyeon. "I invited him. I never thought he'd actually come. I'm surprised too." He replies.

"Wha- why would you invite Jeonghan to my birthday party!" You glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, "Come on now, he's in our friend group. And college is almost over. You don't know when you'll see him again. Ogle him while he's still here." He smirks.

"What did you just s-"

"Oh come on, don't act like I don't know that he's your secret crush. Maybe make up with him and if you're lucky you'll get some good dick as a birthday present." Mingyu chuckles at your open mouth before scurrying away to avoid your wrath. You glare at his retreating figure before inhaling sharply. And before you can stop yourself, you start to look for him.

You spot Jeonghan at the large porch in the back of Mingyu's house, sitting in one of the porch seats while sipping beer. He looks dashing as always, his black hair messy, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his cheekbones getting a prominent shine. You sigh.

Jeonghan was an exhausting person to be around and maybe, he'd say the same for you. You've known him since highschool and after a particular incident of him spilling his banana milk all over your brand new scarf, you decided to call it war. To this day you believe that he did it on purpose because you told your homeroom teacher that he slept during his class.

After that it was like an unspoken rule- you two would bicker whenever you were in the same space. It only infuriated you that he was so good looking, smart, famous and the fact that you had some feelings developing for him. Each time you saw him with a girl you'd feel a bitter feeling all over and you could only hope that those feelings would pass over time. But no they didn't, they only grew- the small branches had formed a tree now, the roots planted deep in your heart.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?" Jeonghan calls, without turning behind. You clear your throat before walking to him, "Didn't expect to see you here, fuck face."

"Can you not call me names for a day please? You're just jealous I'm good looking." He remarks drowning the can of beer.

You snort, "Haha. You wish, loser." You plop down beside him. "I see you've finished quite a few cans. What's up? Got ditched?" You poke him.

"What do you care?"

"You're ruining the mood here with all these sad aura around you. Go drink your sorrows away somewhere else, this is my party."

"Yet you are sitting with me and my sad auras."

"I came to tell you that," you scoff, crossing your arms over.

"Parties are not your thing, I know. And Mingyu wasn't shy on inviting people. It feels more like his birthday than yours." Jeonghan comments, still staring ahead. His words are true and they infuriate you. You can't help but get defensive, "What do you know, sad boy? I'm enjoying myself just fine."

"And yet you are sitting with me and-"

"Stop saying that, will you!" You snap. Jeonghan chuckles before looking at you. He unabashedly eyes you up and down, heating your cheeks up in the process.

"Nice dress," he murmurs. His words catch you off guard and you glare at him, "Stop staring at me, pervert."

"You were staring at me earlier."

"Seriously? Can you stop for one goddamn second?"

"You're the one who started it."

"That's it. I shouldn't have come here," you stand up to leave but to your utter surprise Jeonghan grabs your hand, sending your heart to a frenzy. "Wait."

You swallow nervously, heart thudding loudly in your chest as Jeonghan lets go of your hand and meets your eyes, "Sit down, I've a gift for you."

You frown, "You have a gift for me?" Jeonghan nods before sitting straight, setting down his can. "Before that, I need you to know something."

"W-what?"

"I really didn't spill my milk all over you intentionally that day." He meets your eyes.

You can't help but laugh out loud partially because he's still concerned about that and partially because you believe he's lying.

"Listen here, sad boy, I've put that well past me. And I know for a fact you did it on purpose so don't-"

"You didn't, ___. We've been fighting over that for our whole goddamn lives. And no, I'm not lying. I've no reason to. I never cared if you told our teacher shit or not." His chocolate orbs bore into yours and you swallow. The air surrounding you suddenly becomes thick and you start to feel jittery and maybe a slight amount of guilt. Is he really speaking the truth?

"W-whatever, I don't care anymore." You say, sitting down gently beside him.

"And yet you still hold a grudge against me," Jeonghan sighs. "Besides you're not even fun to fight with."

"What did you say?"

He laughs, his eyes forming crescents and the sweet melody echoing in the air. You quickly look away before he catches you staring, "I don't have all day. Where's my gift?"

"Yeah, right." From beside him he produces a bag that you didn't notice before. He hands it to you and you tentatively peek in, half expecting a bug to jump out.

To your utter surprise, a scarf that looks identical to the one he ruined lies there. A small gasp leaves your mouth.

"I bought it that day after I stained yours. I was going to give this to you as an apology but dear lord, you were on my ass the second I got to class next day." Jeonghan speaks and a blush coats your cheek leaving you feel vulnerable all of a sudden.

"I don't know what to say," You whisper more to yourself. Jeonghan chuckles, "I know, you're touched. It's okay, we're even finally."

You bite your lip and exhale loudly before meeting his eyes, "Thanks." Jeonghan moves his hand in a dismissive wave. "I thought I'd finally give it you, call it a truce. We'll probably never see each other again after this month and I wanted to depart on good terms."

Your throat constricts, an overwhelming sadness enveloping you. He's right, you two would probably never see each other again. His dad owns a huge business and he'd probably go abroad to manage it.

"You're right, let's call it a truce," you whisper staring at the scarf in your lap.

"Come on now, don't look so sad, sad girl," Jeonghan teases you and you roll your eyes. He's still the same.

He hands you a beer, "Have a drink with me to sign the truce." You quietly laugh, taking the can from him. You two share a comfortable silence, staring at the night sky, the music from the party fading into the background until Jeonghan decides to break it.

"I know you like me, ___." The words slip past his lips like it's the most casual thing ever. You choke on your beer before looking at him eyes wide like saucers, "W-what!"

Jeonghan slightly turns to face you, his features calm, "You don't have to act. I've known all along."

Oh. My. God.

Heat spreads all over your face like wildfire. Your first thought is that Mingyu told him. You chew your lip as you see no way out. "W-who told you?" You squeak.

"I've figured it out myself," He says nonchalantly, resting his head on his hand as you stares at you.

"You-you did?"

"Mhmm."

You fumble with the hem of your dress before murmuring out, "I-I should get going." You need to escape him. Forever.

But Jeonghan isn't done. He casually goes on, "I've always thought you were pretty. Even when you get red after losing an argument." You blush furiously as your palms sweat.

"You know I really had no intention of picking a fight with you but you...you were so desperate to bring me down. You always speak too much and I often think about the many ways I could shut your loud mouth. Such a shame, we would've made a great couple."

Your face feels like it's on fire by now. You swallow before nervously laughing, "I s-see what you're doing here...You're trying to p-prank me, asshole."

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "See? There you go again, running that damn mouth." Your lips press together as you clench your fists, thinking of a way out. In the blink of an eye Jeonghan scoots closer to you and leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

A squeak leaves your mouth as Jeonghan tilts your head, cupping your cheek. You want to pull back, smack him, call him names but you can only moan as his mouth slots against yours perfectly. Your tongues clash as you grab a fistful of Jeonghan's shirt, moaning.

When you pull back for air, you're mortified, wanting to be swallowed up by the ground. Jeonghan is totally calm as he takes in your messy state licking his lips.

"Do you want to continue?"

"W-wh-what?"

"I said do you want to continue this? If you don't want to I'll leave. If you do then you're coming home with me. Which one is it gonna be, ___?"

You bite your lip. Oh my God. This can't be happening.

You grit your teeth as every ounce of your resolve disappears, "I...I want you."

The smile on Jeonghan's face is victorious, a smile you've seen million times before, a smile that makes you week in the knees. "Good girl." He says encasing your lips in another kiss before standing up holding out his hand. "Come along, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you for any other man. Even when it's morning you'll only be thinking about me," he whispers in your ear before tugging you out of the porch- your heart hammering in your chest as you squeeze the scarf on your hand.

Fuck, you owe Mingyu a fruit basket or some shit now.

A/N 2: Also, that video of Jeonghan exercising made me 🥵🥵 this man is so infurating. I was literally dehydrated from watching that video.

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daisywords · 2 years

Note

What was "Children of the Red Sun" about? I know that you abandoned it, but the title has me curious

Thanks for asking!

So Children of the Red Sun was this YA? scifi story that idk I might recycle for parts in the future idk. (It itself was made of recycled parts so...we'll see what happens) I think I was actually posting parts of it here back in like...2017? 2018?

So the main conceit was that a near-future Earth gets involved in a war with some aliens. Many countries on Earth work together to form an army to fight in the space war. The thing is, the technology they are using in the space war relies on being hooked up directly with the operator's brain. It's a new technology, and right now they've only figured out how to make it work with young people, since their brains have higher plasticity/can adapt to work with the technology. This means they need Youths™ to fight in the space war. Enter "The Draft."

People obviously had an issue with sending literal children to fight their wars, so they compromised with a minimum age of 17. Basically as soon as you turn 17 you are eligible for the Draft, and you age out at 20.

The story follows two main characters: Olivia and Bart.

We first meet Olivia on her 17th birthday, obviously a tense day. She gets drafted a few months later, and we follow her through the military induction process. In her group happens to be the other girl from her school that is also named Olivia. (og Olivia was almost named Olivia Rodrigo rip but I she ended up being Olivia Garcia and the other was Olivia Haywood.) They go by last names in the space military so it's not that weird but idk I have a common name and I really wanted to capture the energy of like...that person that you're not friends with but always aware of idk. (They also bunk with a french-speaking regiment and make friends with two of my favorite ocs that I never got to use, Camille and Noemie.)

Olivia is also trying to find out what happened to her best friend Shay, who was drafted almost a year ago and never heard from again.

Bart begins his story in a facility for veterans of the space war who have been severely injured and given scifi prosthetics (now they're cyborg kids woo.) The facility is to like help them adapt to their new bodies. Everything is pretty poorly funded and only ppl with rich parents have parts that actually function well. Bart is a basically a genius kid and has begun to suspect that not everything about the war is adding up.

At the facility, he begins to find clues left by a previous resident (spoiler alert: it's Shay)

Why did I abandon this story?

Well, first of all, idk where Shay is either. Second of all, I couldn't decide exactly where to go with the war plot. (I was toying with the idea of the war being functionally over and the aliens having left, but nefarious people putting it on as a show to exploit the Youths for sinister purposes. But I couldn't figure out how to make it work)

There was also a tonal mismatch that was pretty hard to work with. There was a lot of serious things happening, but there were also a lot of campy elements and it was hard to figure out how seriously the story should take itself.

Here's a snippet for your viewing pleasure:

It was almost two months later when they came for her. Enough time to almost forget, to almost get comfortable. Two more months for Olivia and her father.

For the first few weeks, every envelope felt like it almost certainly contained a condemnation, every ring of the phone made her about jump out of her skin, every knock on the door made her heart stop outright.

Then, when nothing happened for weeks, it started to feel more and more like a story. Something that happened to other people.

But then, there she was, sitting in the back of that bus. She’d been one of the first ones on—what kind of person decided 3:15 am was a good time for her to report? She had stood on her front porch with her father in the bleary clear cold, and now she was here.

Sometimes the bus would stop, and another unlucky kid would clamber on. Nobody talked to each other.

She pushed the top of her head into the seat in front of her and closed her eyes, trying to reach that state between asleep and awake that always got her through airplane rides.

They’d given her 24 hours notice. It was more than she’d expected. Time to pack the allotted two (2) personal items weighing no greater than 2 kg. Time to say goodbye.

So why hadn’t Shay?

The sky was beginning to lighten when someone sat next to her. She didn’t lift her head, just felt the seat shift slightly beside her, watching the newcomer’s bag settle between their shoes. A dirty lunchbox between dirty sneakers.

A lunchbox. Olivia had the straps of the flatpack she’d gotten from some soccer camp strung over her knee. She guessed a lunchbox was as good as anything.

It just made this whole thing more surreal, like she was just going off to school. Except not like that at all.

#my writing #wow this made me nostalgic I did like the characters #Bart was v sassy and had a lot of good lines #and like the whole thing idk...I feel like I was onto something but wasn't experienced enough to pull it off

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