#tremendous fic

[xysidhequeen]

No idea who needs to hear this. Because I've been writing, professionaly as my job for over a year and this only just clicked for me.

Dialogue does not have to be followed with 'X Said/Told/Yelled etc etc.' You can just move on to an action. IE: "Can't believe you did that!" X dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding a sword that flew through the air where her throat had been seconds before.

I know for many writers this isn't some grand revelation but maybe it'll cause an epiphany for someone else.

[robininthelabyrinth]

for the fanfic prompts: au where wwx comes from the old and respected yiling wei sect and jc and jyl are the children of rogue cultivators (or maybe madam yu ran away with rogue jfm?), taken in by sect leader wei

ao3

"I'm going to strangle Jiang Cheng when I find him," Wei Wuxian announced. "No, don't try to talk me out of it. My decision on this is final."

"Mm," Lan Wangji said. He didn't sound especially convinced, but Wei Wuxian supposed he could understand and forgive that - after all, Wei Wuxian had been waffling for quite a while on what he was going to do to Jiang Cheng once he found him.

Because he was going to find him. That part was non-negotiable.

Wei Wuxian was going to find his stupid little shidi who'd never had a kind word in his poisonous little mouth, but whose heart was as soft as his tone was hard. His shidi who had always been so painfully grateful for the way Wei Wuxian's parents had taken him and his sister into their sect after his own parents had died so unwisely on a night hunt - Jiang Yanli had been visiting with them anyway, her chronic weakness having flared up, but Jiang Cheng had been who-knows-where with them at the time. He never talked about what had happened back then, and neither did he talk about what he'd endured the following year when no one had been able to find him as he slowly made his determined way back to Yiling, terrified down to his bones that Jiang Yanli had been thrown out as soon as the news had spread. He'd only been eight, and all alone, but he hadn't let anything stop him.

Really, Wei Wuxian should have realized long ago that Jiang Cheng would be inclined to do some completely insane if it was for the sake of Yiling Wei. Jiang Cheng's family motto had been attempt the impossible, far more ambitious than Yiling Wei's live true to yourself, and Jiang Cheng persisted in thinking that he owed them his life. And Jiang Cheng always paid back his debts, whether real or imagined.

Wei Wuxian was going to strangle him.

And then he was going to hug him and never let him go ever again. He was going to keep Jiang Cheng safe this time, and he was never going to have to see his stubborn shidi turning his back on him again, turning back to the burning mountain that needed someone with the key to the defensive array to hold down long enough to deceive the invading Wen sect into thinking Yiling Wei was still there. He was never going to have to lie there on that horrible talisman-powered boat, paralyzed by whatever poisonous concoction Jiang Cheng had slipped into their drinks at dinner as they'd debated escape versus staying to fight a suicidal battle, unable to do anything as Jiang Cheng saved his entire family at the cost of his own life...

No, that wasn't right. Jiang Cheng hadn't given up his life for theirs - he hadn’t. He'd been captured by the Wen sect, yes, and then he'd been taken away to who-knows-where, but there wasn't any proof he was actually dead. 

Wei Wuxian was going to find him. 

He was going to find him, and he was going to strangle him, and then he was going to bring him home where he belonged.

“You can strangle him too if you like, if you promise not to use that ridiculous arm strength of yours,” Wei Wuxian offered to Lan Wangji, who rolled his eyes at him. “I’m serious! It doesn’t have to be strangling. You can kick him instead…well, I don’t know. Do you Lan have ridiculous leg strength, too?”

Lan Wangji didn’t dignify that with any response.

Typical, really.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian’s mother had given him good advice – very good, since Wei Wuxian took after his eternally oblivious father in regards to romance – and so he just waited patiently to see if Lan Wangji was actually deliberately ignoring him or if he just needed some time to gather his thoughts.

(Or, you know, be shamed by his fine-tuned etiquette skills into responding anyway. This was apparently a strategy that worked really well on members of the Lan sect in particular, or at least on Lan Wangji’s uncle – and everyone always said that a nephew most resembled their uncles…)

“…I brought rope,” Lan Wangji said after a while.

Wei Wuxian blinked. Rope? Well, of course Lan Wangji had brought rope – they didn’t know where Jiang Cheng was, after all, and there were always situations where rope might be useful for climbing or marking a path or –

“To tie him up.”

Or that.

Wei Wuxian once again congratulated himself on having excellent taste in romantic partners, even if it had taken him his mother (and, more embarrassingly, his father) pointing out to him that what he was feeling was romantic attraction and not just, as he’d believed, an overwhelming desire to get Lan Wangji’s undivided attention and torment him into friendship.

(Wei Wuxian still couldn’t believe his father had dared to say something about him not getting it. That rotten hypocrite had asked his own wife on the eve of their wedding if she actually liked him like that! He didn’t get to judge other people for being a little slow on the uptake!)

Once Wei Wuxian had realized, of course, naturally he’d dragged Jiang Cheng all the way back to the Cloud Recesses with him to try to spend more time with Lan Wangji. Never mind his own initial obliviousness, once he was set on a course of action, no one could stymie him – he’d been sure he’d be able to win the icy Lan-er-gongzi’s heart, and sure enough, he’d been right! Even if exactly how he’d managed to do it remained mystifyingly unclear, the main point was, he’d done it!

It hadn’t occurred to him at the time that it was in any way odd to take Jiang Cheng with him.

It was Jiang Cheng! They went everywhere together, did everything together – they’d even been born only a few days apart, Wei Wuxian leading and Jiang Cheng following, just the way it ought to be, just the way it always was. Sure, Jiang Cheng grumbled and complained, but that was just how he was; Wei Wuxian would even bet that he’d left the womb grumbling rather than crying.  If he’d really objected to something, he would have just shut himself up like a turtle, refusing to engage, and there would be no force in the heavens and earth that could get him to come out, so, really, the fact that he came along meant that he didn’t mind, no matter his complaining that it was wrong to bring a third party on a date.

Wei Wuxian, for his part, had just felt that it would be even more wrong to leave him out.

That had been all that it was or so he thought. At the time, anyway.

He really was just – very oblivious.

And then there’d been that one beautiful summer afternoon when he’d finally cornered Lan Wangji all on his own and they’d ended up kissing for half a shi before Wei Wuxian had, rather unconsciously, said, “I can’t wait to see what Jiang Cheng thinks of this! …where is he, anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to come on this hunt with us?”

Lan Wangji had hummed and nodded. “He made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“Mm. He thought we wanted privacy.”

Wei Wuxian hadn’t been able to resist a wicked smirk – they had, hadn’t they? Only…he wanted privacy from the rest of the world, sure; no one else was allowed to see Lan Wangji all red-eared and flustered, kissed until his lips were pink. But the rest of the world didn’t include Jiang Cheng, who had to see it: he would probably have the funniest comments to say about it, and if he didn’t see it, how would he make them?

“A mistake,” Lan Wangji had said again, and this time he sounded far more serious, serious and solemn. “He thought he was unwelcome, but he is not. By…either of us.”

That had been the first time Wei Wuxian had congratulated himself on his exquisite taste.

Truly, Lan Wangji was his soulmate. How else would he understand so well what Wei Wuxian had only just begun to realize for himself? That he didn’t just want Jiang Cheng by his side as his future right hand, but by his side, forever, in all things, even this?

Lan Wangji even had the good taste to want Jiang Cheng for himself as well. He was perfect.

They both were.

They were both perfect, and they were both necessary, neither one any less than the other, and once Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji found Jiang Cheng, they were going to beat that fact into his rotten head once and for all. And then tie him up and take him home and never, ever, ever let him go.

As soon as they found him.

Because they were going to find him, no matter where the Wen might have taken him. Even if he was in the depths of the Fire Palace or the depths of the Yunmeng ghost marsh, that stinking pit so full of drowned souls that even the fish couldn’t make it in, they were going to find him and bring him home.

Because Jiang Cheng was theirs.

[canisalbus]

Hi um, I know you're cool with fanart, but would fanfic of Vasco and Machete be okay and if so can we tag you when we finish it? 👉👈 Weeeeee... kinda wanna write like a BILLION words about these two from seeing all your art and canon about them.

-Stars system

Absolutely! I love seeing other people's interpretations of Vasco and Machete and I'd consider it an honor if they inspired you enough to want to write something about them. If you do, tag me or dm me a link please, I wouldn't want to miss it.

[thejudeduarte]

What if I told you guys that I had a Jurdan fic coming out today. What if I told you that!?

[p4nishers]

i need content of codywan that just started working together like the first few months where their dynamic is cody barely resisting the urge to strangle his general and obi wan being like. already fucking head over heels for him.

like cody was expecting someone highly impressive based on his records so he obviously is excited to work with him cause his batchmates already met him on kamino and genosis and they all liked him which was, looking back, probably a prank on codys sanity and his bastard gremlin vode were absulately dying laughing at him. anyway so he obviously has high expectations and then this slutty "hello there" mf turns up with no self-preservation whatsoever, a feral demon child of a padawan, half the republic tailing him for every bullshit imaginable and beef with EVERY SINGLE SITH EVER???? WHICH HE SOLVES BY ???? FUCKING FLIRTING WITH THEM????? so you can imagine codys not having a great time.

meanwhile, obi wan daydreams about cody constantly. draws up their wedding invitations before even meeting him. praises him every opportunity he gets. kicks his feet and giggles about codys sarcastic comments ABOUT HIM while being in a room with CODY. stops talking in the middle of his sentence when he spots cody across the room and waves at him with the biggest smile possible. sets up regular sparring practices with the vode just so he MIGHT have an opportunity to be close to cody. labels the time when cody accidentally fell on him because of an explosion and touched his lips for 0.00001 milliseconds as their first kiss and gossips about it to quinlan. calls bant regularly to update her on everything cody does ever. buys every kind of tea and caf he can afford as an excuse to talk to cody and go into his courters. flirts with cody 24/7 and blushes tomato red when cody smirks at him and thinks about it so much he constantly walks into walls and tables and chairs and shinies and. breaks a table after cody stubs his toe into it. passes the fuck out when cody carries him this one (1) time, not bc of blood loss or anything simply too much attraction. constantly searches the force for codys signature even when they're not in the same system. calls him disgustingly sappy petnames in every other sentence. corners all of codys batchmates and asks thousands of questions about cody bc he cannot get them out of the man for the life of him and yes, wolffe, he absulately will die without knowing codys favorite color what kind of question is that. cody smiles once a month and obi wan thanks him everytime. cody hands him back his lightsaber for the first time and he proposes, loudly, cody ignores him completely and walks away. convinces anakin and ahsoka to drop "subtle" hints that he would be a good husband.

and everyone around them is having the time of their life watching codys right eye twitch whenever he's in a room with kenobi long enough while the man himself doesn't take his eyes off the commander during the entire 4 hour meeting and blushes everytime cody looks at him without a fail. cody barely refrains from throwing his datapad at his general when he suggests some self-sacrificing bullshit again.

it's truly like:

obi wan, beaming and eyes possibly gleaming with adoration: hello there, cody. how are you today?

cody, grinding his teeth together: fine, sir. wanted to talk to you about this report cause it's seems to be mistaken. surely, you're not thinking of blowing yourself up just so that TWO man, who are not even in any immediate danger whatsoever, can escape. right?

obi wan, brightening even further bc he loves their daily "banter": oh but of course, my dear, they're valuable men and anyway, i promised anakin he'd get to use the explosives this time.

cody, right eye starting to twitch horribly: right, of course, stupid of me to ask. one more thing, general, you wouldn't decommission me for anything i do, would you, sir ?

obi wan: what– darling, of course not. why would you–

cody: alright then [punches obi wan then walks away]

obi wan:

obi wan: i'm so in love with that man.

it's said that to this day obi wan still giggles in the most inappropriate times about that punch because cody was SO HANDSOME YOU DONT GET IT MACE THE LIGHT HIT HIM JUST RIGHT AND–

anyway codys hatred lasts till obi wan saves rex by putting himself in danger and when they get back, both bruised and bloody but amazingly alive and obi wan smiles at him like he always does with rex draped across his scarred shoulder, something in cody just settles and thinks. oh. oh. so this is what bly was talking about.

[andietries]

Ok, another poll. This time fanfiction themed

Let’s say, more than 7 if the fic is not multi chapter or is a drabble and the tags show characters that aren’t even mentioned

I mean, everybody is free to do what they want but I’m curious

Edit: say why if it’s not much bother

[sisterdivinium]

Lilith might just have made the worst choice she could in going to Jillian, no? Not just because of basically becoming her lab rat and throwing herself into the unknown by walking into the ark, but because of the sharp, undeniable contrast that is painfully drawn between Jillian's love for Michael, which sees her stop at nothing to retrieve him, and Lilith's mother's indifference towards her own daughter.

Of course she had met Jillian before, but season one had another context to it. Now, however...

Here's a woman who will set the whole world on fire in order to help her son if she must; meanwhile, Lilith's mother could care less if she knew about her daughter's little season frolicking in the flame pits of hell after being dragged there by a tarask.

Lilith goes to Jillian expecting the brilliant scientist -- she finds her, but perhaps more than that she finds the devoted mother she does not have. There's a cruelty to Jillian's treatment of her, of course, but in this moment of recognition she realises that a) not only is her worth still seen as tied to her "usefulness" to others, but b) that nobody will do for her what Jillian is doing for her son... And that might just be the deepest wound.

[mightymizora]

Ohohohohoho Durgetash fic rec.

This has like… the greatest hits for me for Durgetash smut. Mentions of finding substitute partners! Choking! Restraint! Being incredibly petulant! Gortash bargaining! Durge being a bit more than and less than mortal! Weird tenderness! Blood!

Edit: hey @lamortactuallywrites this absolutely f u c k s

[builtbybrokenbells]

just popping on to share a funny little story from today…

after months of trying, this was the text message I sent my friend that finally convinced them to listen to a greta song for the first time:

and i KNOW you weren’t even listening when josh kiszka said when out of silence we will sing 🎶 🎤 and even broken bells will ring 🔔🛎️🔔🔔 not all the answers are the same 🚫👎⛔️⛔️⛔️🚫🚫🚫 yet we still play the game ⁉️❓❓⁉️⁉️‼️❗️

glad to see broken bells speaks to everyone else the same way it speaks to me.

[meatmensch]

Jamie: I'm gonna buy the whole team PS5s. They'll fucking love me. Ted: Yeah, but, you know, some folks might also consider that buying affection. Jamie: Exactly. Yeah, what better thing to spend money on than love?

This exchange from S2E03 is really depressing. This is a learned behavior. His dad is scum of the Earth. We know from S3E06 that, when Jamie was in his teens, his dad was trying to act like a super-dad, and buying him stuff, like trips to Amsterdam, and tickets to matches, and sex. He thinks money equals love dawggg 😭

[celestialseawitch-ff]

I have this Falcon and the Winter Soldier fic idea that I'll never finish where Spider-Man (post NWH) is called upon for help against the super soldiers because he's local and also they know he's stronger than any of the super soldiers. And so they ask the vigilante but don't remember who he is and are like "if you want to go with us, you'll be on the plane" And so Peter goes and-

Peter looked up from under his hood. He smiled weakly and gave a little finger wave. 

“Hi.”

“Oh, hell no,” Sam said. He leaned forward. “How old are you? Are you even legally allowed to leave the country without an adult?”

Peter frowned. “I’m- I’m eighteen?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “That shouldn’t sound like a question.”

Peter frowned.

Sam was still shaking his head. “No. Nuh-uh. Get up. Get off the plane, kid. This is not happening.”

“You asked me to come!” Peter whispered loudly. 

“Before I knew you were a child,” Sam loudly whispered right back.

Bucky rolled his eyes. He shoved past Sam and took the middle seat. “Will you calm down and take a seat?”

“You cannot be okay with this!” He gestured to Peter.

Bucky shrugged. “Steve wasn’t even eighteen the first time he applied to join the war. Stupid kids are stupid kids. At least he can fight. Steve got winded going up the stairs to our apartment.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god.” With a heavy sigh, Sam sat down in the aisle seat. He leaned around Bucky to Peter. “How old are you?” he asked again.

“Eighteen,” Peter said with far more confidence that time.

“So that made you, what? Fourteen in Berlin? Stark kidnapped you?”

“I mean, that’s a pretty strong word.”

“But the right one,” Bucky finished with a nod.

Peter tilted his head and shrugged. “Kind of? In his defense, we were supposed to be talking. You guys threw the first punch.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue that point but Bucky nodded in agreement. “Steve can’t back down from a fight. It’s a problem.”

“Hey, is he really living on the moon?”

Sam sighed loudly.

Peter leaned forward so he could see both Sam and Bucky. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

Sam nodded. “Nice to meet you, Peter,” he responded dully.

“Everything okay over here?” a flight attendant asked as she appeared by their row.

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter replied sweetly. “My dads are just nervous fliers.”

Sam and Bucky turned deadly glares on the teenager.

The attendant smiled indulgently at Peter. “I’ll bring some water in a bit. We’re about to take off, so just make sure you’re all buckled up.”

“Will do, thank you!” He turned his happy smile on the two glaring men beside him. “This’ll be fun.”

[neopuppy]

reading the best fic I have ever read(and I’ve read……1848392929949493 fics)

and legitimately I cannot believe how many people I have seen say they couldn’t read this fic because they hate cheating tropes/one character was written too evil. oh yeah…..and its a/b/o so you know how people get….. ANYWAY

this writing? SCRUMPTIOUS. THE CHARACTERIZATIONS?????!!!!!!!!????!!! MOUTH WATERING!!!!!!!!

THE. FUCKING. DIALOGUE!!!!!!!!🗣️

the plot?!? THE VIVID DESCRIPTIVE STORY TELLING?????????

and…….the smut of course, the fucking smut. is it THE BEST smut I have ever read? okay NO, but taking into account how LONG and well fleshed out this fic is…..its fire ass smut like im still thinking abt a few different scenes randomly. I don’t think I’ve ever read and reread 100k+ word count this fast before, and when I finished the first time I was like JAW ON THE FLOOR

I find it hard to believe there are clusters of people who will not read something this amazing because it’s a smidge too dark, diet dead dove if you will. I haven’t ever read anything this perfect in my life lmao, thats crazy. I need to be inside of this authors brain IMMEDIATELY😭

I have actually never read cheating trope before and loved it this much, im typically the type to be like mehhhhhh its more fun when they can just hook up with everyone and THEN catch feelings but this fic has changed me

an actual mind-altering brain shattering drool worthy fic, something I deserve to read🥹💘

[trippingonthelight]

One Line Prompts #4: Danny - (“You make me feel safe” and “just tell me everything’s gonna be okay”)

an: okay so you ever have those almost-relationships that could be so great if they worked out but it’s so tense trying to get it to work out bc no one will admit their feelings for eachother so u just stand there like🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️waiting for the other person to speak up… yeah this is about when it works out <3

cw: this is kinda sort of a flashback in a way (if you squint), reader and Danny are both set in high school so underage drinking (but be honest who didn’t…), angst, mutual pining, Sam being an instigator, josh has literally no dialogue idk what to tell u he just didn’t have anything to say. Enjoy Danny lane <3

You could tell from the way your shoulder harshly smacked against the doorframe as you tried to shuffle past the partygoers and into the busy house that you made a mistake coming here tonight. At your friend’s house on the block where you grew up, they threw a graduation party for everyone who got their diplomas today. The party marked not just the end of school, but new beginnings for the graduates. A proper home-town sendoff into the real world… 

God you hated this part…  God you hated him right now… 

Childhood friends from the beginning, your summers were always filled with Danny’s presence. For days on end you would hang out till the sun went down, then with the other neighborhood kids (Kiszka’s always in tow) you would keep each other company in the dark woods where bonfires roared for hours into the languid summer evenings, cool fall nights, and frigid winters. As you grew up, time spent with him started to feel different. It started as an innocent connection of young souls trying to navigate growing up together, and finding joy wherever they can; whether it was going on adventures together in nature, shopping with the other kids at the mall, or just enjoying each other’s company while you sit on the docks and asked all the questions to each other that you were too scared to ask adults yet…

“hey y/n, what do you think being in love means…” 

“Danny, what do you do when you get scared… “

“what are we gonna go when we have to leave home?” “I dunno, guess we’ll figure it out together…” 

But as you got older, you started to see him. Really see him. His presence wasn’t just a constant comfort anymore. He changed, but in all the good ways. He got older and taller and grew out his hair. He became more introspective, reflective, soft spoken, though his loud laughter remained. Not too long after you met as kids, he started playing in a band with the Kiszka’s on the weekends and eventually every day after school. You remember the first day you were invited over to watch them practice. Jake was the loudest over everyone except for Josh, who in turn just tried to out-do Jake’s incredible volume. Sam hung back with Danny, keepers of the rhythm and the peace between the fiery twins. If they can mellow out a little and not physically fight each other on stage, you think they could really make it one day. 

This was your routine for years. You were there with him through it all as they developed their sound, watched them all grow… One night you were over and you watched them play this new song they’re trying to work out. You can’t really remember the name, some sweet tune with a line about morning birds… But you’re watching him closely, a gentle curiosity with his every move. 

You saw him smiling and laughing with his best friends, the five of you in your own world in the Kiszka’s garage where all that matters is music and togetherness. It was undeniably your comfort place… 

You saw the way the dim work lamps they set up as makeshift stage lights casted a gentle glow on his features. He looks so soft, you think to yourself as you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, wishing it was his hand instead you were grasping. It seemed like over a matter of months he went from this sweet boy you loved to hang out with to a kind young man who you still loved to hang out with, except now he makes you nervous. Because you like him… “like” doesn’t even seem right. “Liking” someone means you don’t really know them yet. You knew Danny well, better than most, actually… Your young heart didn’t want to admit it out of fear, but looking back on it now you would absolutely call it love. 

You saw the way he caught you staring, and grinned at you. He jokingly says, “you got a staring problem, sweetheart?” Sweetheart….. it makes your heart jump up in your throat. It made him just as nervous to say it, he doesn’t really know why it slipped out. Maybe the adrenaline of getting that new beat down perfectly, maybe the pride he felt performing in front of you, or just your presence in his favorite place…he loved having you here… loved spending time with you… loved you too, even if he couldn’t tell anyone else but Sam. Jake and Josh would be too practical, tell him to go for it. But the trepidation remained and Sam would tease him about it for years, “ya know one day Daniel, she’s just gonna slip through your fingers if ya don’t say something… but who am I to meddle in the affairs of young love…”

“Shut up, Sam…” 

Your feelings for each other raged on internally all throughout high school. You got to watch the band take off, got to watch them get more and more attention, got to watch them bloom… When Jake and Josh graduated they got really serious about the band, even signing contracts and planning recording sessions for a real album… You only had a year left of school yourself, and you had so much you wanted to accomplish. You would imagine life after graduation and how amazing it will all be, you and Danny finally free from the necessary evil of education and setting off into the world with a freedom you can’t even comprehend yet. You realized that high school isn’t forever, and life is out there waiting for you… 

But, you also came to the realization that when he gets that diploma in his hands, nothing would be left to tether him here anymore. Family, friends, holidays… sure he would come back. But it slowly settled upon you, the weight of  knowing he couldn’t stay. Not when the life he always dreamed of is right there waiting for him. Why would anyone stay when all that opportunity was just out there for the taking?

Earlier today as the graduates sat in anticipation of their diplomas, you sat with his family in the stands of the football field nervously bouncing your legs. Being here meant that you were acknowledging the end, welcoming it even, and that made your stomach turn. It pissed you off…

You had to leave the ceremony early. He wanted a picture with you on the football field, but tears had already stained your cheeks and your dress. He texted you, 

where’d you go? 

just had to run home real quick. I’ll see you later okay? 

okay! see you later :) 

never has simple punctuation hid so much emotion from the receiver. He puts his phone in his back pocket and tries to smile through more pictures with Sam. His mom snaps one of all four of the guys; he wishes you were there.

—

So yeah, it was a huge mistake coming to this party. And it was an even bigger mistake getting a little drunk beforehand, shotgunning a couple of beers your dad won’t miss from the fridge in the garage and hopping on your bike to head to the party. Your head felt swimmy and clouded, aware of the feeling of the alcohol snaking its way through your bloodstream but no longer aware of your sadness. The anger though… that was harder to get rid of. 

Even harder to do was reign it in. So when Danny saw you walk in he excitedly came over to you, hoping whatever happened earlier had worked itself out for the sake of tonight. He wanted to just forget about it, intending to grab you in a hug and take you to the corner the boys had co-opted for the evening and just be in each other's company.

You really didn’t mean to snap at him...

He gave you a big smile, “Hey!” reaching for your arm. When his fingers barely make contact with your heated skin, you flinch and pull away. His face drops. 

“What’s up Danny?” You try to sound casual, but your anger seeps through. You can’t say too many words to him without tears welling up again because you know he’s on could nine right now, with music and touring being the only things on his horizon. Except for you. To him, you were still there. If only you knew it.

But your own misery at the idea of him going away eclipsed all the pride and happiness you felt for him at the moment. You were happy for him. That’s what made this so hard.

You weren’t proud of yourself for it, but you rolled your eyes at him when he didn’t respond. To be honest he just didn’t have the words. Didn’t know what to say.

“Whatever…” You shrug him off and head to the kitchen. 

He looks back at the guys, silently asking them if they just saw that. Josh and Sam confirm that yeah, weirdly enough that just happened. Determined to know what’s wrong, he follows you to the kitchen and leans back against the island as you pour a generous shot. “Think that’s a little more than a standard pour there, kid…” 

Kid… He was one year older than you… Kid…. you say it over and over in your head and coat it in an extra layer of disdain and resentment every time. Kid… you start to fabricate another reason to be upset so you don’t have to face yourself. that’s all I’ll ever be… some kid he hung out with… 

“Yeah that’s the point, Daniel.” You throw the shot back, it burns your throat but quiets your head a little. A fair enough trade. You walk away from the island and kept your distance from him for the next hour, huddling with a group of girls you barely spoke to during school but with the performance you were putting on, they could have been your lifelong friends. You concoct the story in your head to make this all seem easier, justified even. He doesn’t even need me. He’s gonna go off and be so successful and forget this ever even happened… what a waste of time, you lie to yourself. Fuck him… 

You were angry, that much is true. But never at him.

You were angry at the clock, at the calendar, at the map… at the distance apart you’ll be from each other that will change every night for him as he goes on tour. At the hours you wasted mulling over in your mind how to tell him you loved him instead of just saying it. At yourself, for running out of time and for being mad right now. For every new realization like this that hit you it felt like the air became vaporized agony, each passing breath more shallow and painful than the last. You took a swig from what ever bottle they were passing around at the moment. What ever will make it stop… 

He had never seen you like this. Swaying a little where you stood and your laughter so hollow. Like you were laughing to respond to the group, to blend in, but nothing was funny. He saw it in your eyes, you were hurting, bad. He knew you better than anyone, he knows how you can be when hard stuff hits… It made him sad, what happened? He couldn’t watch you wince again after taking another pull from the bottle you had at the moment. 

He approaches the group of girls whom you tried to hide in all night. “Ladies, do you mind if I steal her for a sec?” The girls didn’t know any better and were all giggles and smirks when he asked that, pushing you forward to him in a way that made you feel like a lamb going to the slaughter. Truthfully, he made you feel safer than anyone else in any other circumstance. But now, you can feel the conversation you’ve been needing to have is imminent, and it scares you.

You grabbed the closest bottle in one hand behind your back as he took your other and led you away. Away from the music that beat against the inside of your head violently. The lights that flashed and changed in a way that made you feel sick. It started to settle in, the reality of your decisions. What if he hadn’t stood there all night with you… where would you have gone? The thought terrified you and the bottle you snagged on the way out of the kitchen clattered to the floor, thankful that it didn't shatter and that it was out of your hands.

You felt a little more sober when he pulled you both into the hallway bathroom. For the first time all day you were grateful to be near him. The noise quieted and the soft interior of the room made you feel a little safer, less on edge. A little nightlight was the only light source, but that’s all he needed to see you stiffen, cross your arms, and lean against the counter. He leans back against the door, drink still in hand. He takes a swig and a beat before saying, “so you wanna tell me about it?” 

No. You don’t, actually. You shake your head like a petulant child, eyes cast down at the floor with a knowing shame. This isn’t how this was supposed to happen……… the phrase repeated itself over and over in your mind. You’re just feeling too much. Guilt, anger at the situation, anger at yourself, anxiety about so many “what ifs” you lost count. You mumble the phrase out to yourself. Your voice is meek, but he heard you. He doesn’t press for you to speak up, just takes a step closer to you. 

“How what was supposed to happen?” His voice is gentle. He just wants to know what’s wrong, how he can help, not knowing he’s the problem.

“This… you and me…” You wave your hands between the both of you symbolizing your palpable connection and also inability to coherently speak. Your head was buzzing and you felt the spins about to set in from your heart rate going up. You try not to say much, because the more you speak, the more your emotions start to build up in your chest. Rising to your throat and settling behind your eyes. You feel frantic even though you’re standing completely still, feel like he can read it all over you face even though he has no idea. You feel a crack in the dam that’s holding your emotions back, the alcohol not making it any easier to contain them. Then he speaks…

“what about you and me? come on y/n just talk to me… please…” he gently takes your hands, holding them halfway down so he can grip your wrists. He’s just so worried. Worried about what he did, worried about what someone else did to you, worried about what you did to yourself, why you’re self medicating when you hate to drink around anyone but him and the guys. You’re so special to him and this was such an important day, he just wanted you around for it all. Wanted to tell you… so many things..

When you weren’t there he was upset. But he’s trying to be with you now, you’re just not letting him. His plea finally tipped you over the edge, begging you for an answer when you would rather never speak again than give it to him. All at once you give it up. The dam breaks.

“Please what, Danny…  tell you how I’m so mad at literally everything right now?” The words slur together at first but you take a breath when his eyes go wide. You continue, “tell you how I’m scared shitless about what I’m gonna do without you when you leave? About how I think about where you’re gonna go and if you’ll be safe? If the guys will be safe? How I’m already so anxious about having to be here without you and how I’m gonna miss you so much?? How I love you and I always have, and I’m so mad at myself for telling you all this now that you’re leaving? Is that what you wanna hear about? Because I don’t fucking feel like talking.” 

There it was… he couldn’t explain why he was shocked. It’s what he wanted to hear more than anything, “I love you and I always have,” he couldn’t have put it better himself, and now he wants to sell all his plane tickets. Wants to unpack all his kits and equipment, wants to tear up the contracts, wants to undo it all, for you. He guesses the shock he feels is that you actually said it, and he didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to hear it anymore. He can just replay the memory now… or maybe hear it again. Your voice snaps him out of his own thoughts. 

“just… just tell me everything’s gonna be okay…” your voice cracked on the last word as you hid your face in your hands. nothing’s gonna be okay now…. or so it felt. You wanted to stomp and yell and let your tears run hot and angry down your ruddy cheeks. “Tell me it’s gonna be okay when you’re gone…” A little sob breaks through.

He silently reaches for you and pulls you into his embrace. He says it when he has you, “honey, c’mere…” pulling you impossibly close to him. You can’t help but fall into it. It’s what you wanted all night. What you both wanted.

“I’m just really scared, Danny. Everything’s about to change and I’m just not ready…” You finally admit.

He gets it, and he gets why you tried to hide it, tried to numb the pain of the inevitable… he just wishes you’d let yourself feel it - the shitty part that he had to come to terms with too. The part of this that meant the times that you get to spend together will be further apart. The part that made him think about how he can’t just show up to your door anymore either when he feels lonely or just wants to see you. The part that hurt you both too much to talk about until now. 

“I’ll stay…” He says, knowing he can’t. 

But seeing you cry hurts too much he would do anything to stop it. You’re drunk so you laugh at that even through your tears, “Now that would just be silly.” He laughs a little too, tears welling up around his amber eyes. Of course she would say that… The moment required silence, the heavy knowing kind of silence that both of you can feel. He tried to keep his breaths deep and steady so you can match them, but they’re shaking a little in his chest. He didn’t want to feel this part either. 

But now that you have, it’s not so bad. It stings, the pain and the sadness. Nothing has changed, he still has to go. You still have to finish school and go after dreams of your own. But everything has shifted. He smooths over your hair and makes you look up at him. His voice is so soft, you haven’t heard him like this before. Been this close before…

“It’s gonna be okay, ya know.. it’s gonna suck. Absolutely..” that makes you giggle. He smiles at that, remembering you’re actually a very happy drunk. The last bonfire of the summer taught him that. He continues, “but it’s not forever. And I’ll be home more often than you think.” He taps the top of your nose with his finger, just wanting to coax a other giggle from you. It worked. So he keeps going,

“Maybe when you graduate we’ll have a world tour scheduled and I can take ya across the pond. There’s some gorgeous golf courses over there I want you to see.”

You’ve never heard anything more genuine. He’s not trying to sell you on this little vision of the future. It’s just what he wants. The sweet admission makes you feel like maybe doing it all together is still possible. At least it can be, right now. 

You finally relax into his arms and he leans his head on top of yours. You just stand there, letting him hold you. And you hug him back, no longer wanting to be away from him. It slips out of you so easily when you said it to him, “you make me feel safe…” Your protector, your best friend… He feels safe with you too, signaling this to you by gripping you tighter and rubbing his big gentle hand up and down your back. 

“I’m sorry I was being so mean.” You look up at him, chin resting on his chest as your eyes lift to meet his stare. He puts a hand on the top of your head and smooths over your hair. He understands why you did it, doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “Apology accepted… but you can talk to me… about anything. You know that, baby..” 

Baby…. you just like the way it sounds in his voice. 

“I know I can. This is just….” 

“heavy…” he finishes the thought for you. He understands. “Yeah, heavy…” you confirm his suggestion as you mess with the necklace he wore. It’s one you gave him, a crystal wrapped in wire and strung on a leather cord. He wears it most days. He wore it today when he walked across the stage, was holding the stone as he looked around for you in the crowd. Makes him feel connected to you even when you’re not around. So he doesn’t hesitate to take it off and put it around your neck. He thinks that you can keep talking later, there’s still time before he has to leave. So he chooses to lighten the moment as he finishes tying the cord, 

“Just a little something to remember me by…” He grins and you giggle, playfully thumping your hand against his solid chest. You feel grounded by the stone you picked out for him, grounded by his hands on you, grounded by how he’s looking at you. He tips your chin up again and makes you look at him. He needs to know, “so, we gonna do this?” 

You know what he means, you try to let him out of this one more time, try to give him an escape hatch. “Well,” you start. “it’s gonna hurt sometimes…” You thought he might reconsider, might step back and walk away. But he doesn’t, he just says, “then let it…” 

You didn’t know what your first kiss with Danny would be like. You definitely didn’t expect it to be in the bathroom of your neighbor’s house. But when it happened you couldn’t wait for the next one. He threaded his fingers through your hair, holding the back of your head with such sweetness. It was so soft you could have missed it if you weren’t listening, “can i kiss you…” a hurried nod from you and his lips are on yours. The first contact was a little awkward, in the sweet way where both of you realized too late that you were kissing your best friend, leaving you smiling too hard to keep going. You laugh, feeling the alcohol again make your brain go all swirly… only this time it doesn’t hurt. This time there’s no fear. Just you and him, and whatever’s on the horizon. The next one lands just perfectly. The plush of your lips meeting the soft curves of his own, bumping noses together and grabbing at him in the way you’ve dreamed about for so many nights now. Getting to hold him, be intimate with him. Finally… you feel yourself relax even more. Especially when he pulls away, holding your face in his hands and says,

“Let’s get back out there before people start talkin’ huh?”

He leads you both out and you follow him.

You’ll follow him anywhere.

[robinsnest2111]

all I have left of the fic is the two paragraphs I used as inspiration for fanart a while back...

[thewholedamnboulangerie]

find the word challenge

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you.

I was tagged by @bisexualbard-writes (thank youuu!! 💖💖💖), and my words are: wonderful, ghost, weapon, joyful, dangerous ✨

✨ wonderful ✨

Arm had the vague sensation that he ought to be more perturbed by that description; as it was, all he could muster was a slow-building thrill of wonder. - The Artistic Merits and Goals of Pornography

👻 ghost 👻

The ghost of a smile seemed to flicker across the tiny slice of Kim’s face that was visible. He turned, just a fraction, just enough to meet Chay’s eyes. - diatribes at dinner

⚔️ weapon ⚔️

This was a lesson intended to break its target, not strengthen them, to reshape them into a weapon of the most dangerous but brittle variety: vicious to a fault, but bound to shatter if it struck the wrong blow. - til the daylight comes or i'm dead and gone

🌈 joyful 🌈

Selfishly, he would let himself have this - this magnificent creature docile and trusting under his palm, this beautiful boy joyful and radiant by his side. - Namesake

💥 dangerous 💥

If anyone had asked Chay a year ago, or even just two months ago, what he imagined life would be like in the heart of a mafia complex, he would probably have said “dangerous”. - blorbo from my DMs

andddddd I'm going to tag @kinnbig, @divorcedmalewife, @majestictortoise, @ditch-lily and @justanothervariant (no pressure!)

words: world, smile, fault, breathe, soul

[operat0r]

causality

"So. What changed your mind?"

A greater thing rests between them than their meal and than their silence. The Tenno raises a cup to his lips and drinks and ponders the impossibly familiar taste. The scrubbers do their work but they rob even water of its essence, leaves it somehow stale and dry on his tongue. It is nothing like the golden chalices of Orokin moons and stations. It slides over tongue and throat and reminds the Tenno of things he's kept carefully, carefully locked away.

Not that it matters now. The dormizone is familiar, even with its grave-dust air. He knows this place as well as he knows the man who sits opposite him now, this man who looks at him with a stern, bullish familiarity he has not yet earned.

Between them languishes a platter of food cubes, which neither party picks at with much enthusiasm. Between them, a rift wound through time and distance and sheer [im]possibility. Perhaps it is another part of the eternal dream, some lonely delusion that's somehow managed to break the seal the Tenno keeps on past and memory. He is child but not, eternal but not, he who is fourteen or sixteen or eight-or-nine hundred. Why in all of creation would he chose, then, to imagine the tired face before him?

They've the same eyes, regardless: like suns, corona-bright, tired in their way. He knows without knowing and in this, perhaps, the distance between them is made lesser.

He says, "I don't know what you mean," and the other -- this Drifter, unbound from paradox by paradox itself -- frowns with disapproval and impatience both.

"Yeah, I think you do. Come on. What's the point in lying to me?"

They bristle as they chew, reflections of one another. There's no metal in or on the Drifter's face but his nose is bent a little too much to the left and there is a single, deep gouge taken from just below the left cheekbone.

The Tenno says tartly, "I do not answer to you."

"But you do answer to her," the Drifter says, and here the Tenno lifts his eyes. It's an expression he knows well enough, one the Drifter himself has flashed to many a shade and ghost, Dax and King in the moments before and after the blade. Their eyes burn in mutual distrust, smoldering with an anger that has plagued them both, two sides of a singular, unpleasant soul.

"Not anymore."

"Bullshit."

The Tenno's lip curls. His hands are pale, the flesh beneath nails the black-violet of deep bruises. Ballas called them devils and their violence is perhaps the single greatest legend that remains of the old empire. With but a flick of his malnourished little wrist, the Tenno could turn the Drifter to dust, or worse. He knows it as well as he knows that on the other side of the room there is a photograph he cannot allow himself to look at -- and knows that on the other side of the mirror, the Tenno probably has done just that to someone else bearing his resemblance while the Zariman drifted through the Void.

"Not anymore," the Tenno says again with practiced evenness, as if he were the adult here at their shared table and not this stranger wearing his face. "She is gone."

"She's not gone, kid--"

Chopsticks clack, nearly snapping by the force with which they are slammed upon the table. This small violence startles the Drifter and so the Tenno leans forward in challenge. "Do not," the Tenno hisses, "Call me that." His eyes shine dangerously. "She is gone, and for the life of me, I do not know why you cling to her so."

"It's because we have that in common."

The lines upon the Drifter's face are tense. Neither of them are strangers to their violence, the Tenno realizes, but only one of them has ever had the advantage of the Void and the curse it bestows upon those it touches. Across from him sits a man who has had to cut his teeth on the pedestrian ways in which people unlike him do: through sweat and blood and battered knuckles, with blades that have cut him as often as his foes. No doubt beneath his jumpsuit, the Drifter wears plain the full weight of his own wars.

"Like it or not," the Drifter continues, taking a breath, "She's saved us both. You know that as well as I do. So there's got to be an answer. What changed, between you out there and me in here? What's happened that makes you hate her like your life depends on it?"

Between them lurks a standstill. Slow and careful, the Tenno takes another drink of water, takes up his chopsticks again, and marvels briefly at the slight bite of well-worn wood against his fingers. He keeps his eyes low but for the brief flick from beneath his brows, and the Drifter knows he being appraised.

"You might be right," says the Tenno, adding a blue cube of food to his plate and then a green one. "I do not know who has it worse."

---

It was foolish to even try, the Tenno decides. The Lotus -- no, Natah -- bears him love only because it is what her own ghost commands of her. There is nothing, he decides, that shines behind her eyes while she dangles from his grasp and bids him let her go.

It is his lapse of judgement that undoes him, he's certain. It is fleeting sentimentality, a moment where he forgets himself and all he's become with or without her meddling. He does not recall when Margulis was mangled and robbed of her sight, nor does he recall when or how exactly it was that she was taken from them entirely, but he is certain, so certain, that he could not have possibly wept.

And when the blade cuts through him, when Eternity at last lays claim upon that which should have died and vanished upon the Zariman all those years ago, he is certain he does not hear her scream.

---

In the end, the Drifter realizes the Tenno cannot be moved. His disappointment is palpable. The Zariman is home now only to the dead, fated to remain as a grave of unspeakable size, the first of many the children of the Ten-Zero would ultimately create with their void-witched hands.

The Tenno is unbothered by ghosts. But when the Drifter leaves him, pausing just the once in the doorway before electing not to look at him after all, he leaves something behind that unnerves his younger-but-not self.

Life support still wheezes to life in regular intervals, rattling through her tremendous broken bones. Something has come loose in an air vent a room or two down the hall. He's heard the sound from hundreds of those he's cut down himself: wind desperate to find some place to go, pressed through lungs on the razor edge of collapse.

It is not this that unsettles. He sits alone, the Tenno, the seat opposite him emptied and pushed away from the table. Its much more quiet than the Orbiter even without Ordis chattering at him. But neither is it this solitude that disquiets.

There is a saying he has heard more than a few times in his travels, often muttered fearfully by those with superstition in their hearts. They say, "I feel like someone's just walked over my grave," and sometimes they move their hands or bow their heads or give the Tenno a knowing look that he simply cannot return. Up until recently, he has never died -- not in a way that mattered, in any case. Not in a way that stuck.

In the Drifter's wake, something changes. Maybe he sees the lights dim just a shade closer to grey or feels the air chill by a degree or two. Maybe he is dead this time. Maybe Ballas was right and this place is the hell to which he belongs. The Tenno feels the cup between his hands, tastes the unpleasantly tasteless water that slides down his throat. And as it goes, it chills him and at last he understands: there is someone walking over his grave and, for the first time since he's surfaced from the dream, he is well and truly alone.