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why you? what makes you special? the cover for my self indulgent MC + Avina AU fic, in which Avina gets stuck with my MC after the bar fight in chapter 3. you can read it here:

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This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.

This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.

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Fandom: Infamous - Amy (Interactive Fiction) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Main Character/Dakota (Infamous - Amy) Characters: Dakota (Infamous - Amy), Main Character (Infamous - Amy) Summary:  The universe had a pretty strange sense of humour. But then again, so did Felix. Maybe that was why it always found the perfect moments to mess with him.

Like how sometimes, when Felix thought of someone, they would suddenly show up.

DAKOTA (11:09PM): knock knock

(Dakota shows up one night with a surprise for Felix. Felix proceeds to lose his mind.)

—

I posted this on ao3 last night but it was midnight so I forgot to make this post lol. anyway. I wrote something again!! after almost an entire year!!!!

I just…. I want more dakota content. I’m begging….. I’m silly for her

you can read it on ao3!

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don’t hesitate by Mary Oliver

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"I had no idea," Chen muttered, shifting away from the archway into the living room to sit down at the table in the kitchen. "About the migraines." "It was a choice," Ricardo said. His lips pressed together into something that wanted to be a frown. "What do you mean?" Ric shrugged. "I mean it was a choice for you to not know. Anathema and I tried to invite you around, but whenever you heard he'd be there you'd bail. I always thought that if you two could just... get through a couple conversations together you'd realize you had more in common than you thought, but you never did. And then—" "Yeah." He cuts Ricardo off because he knows how that sentence ends. And then it was too late. Chen learns what one of Eden's bad days looks like, and then promptly makes it worse because he's stupid.

3,498 words, pre relationship steelstep with eden. eden and chen both end up at ricardo's, and it's all downhill from there.

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can u share with us your favorite chargestep fics please 😞🙏

yes...... take my hand.

Shared Cigarette Smoke by zeiah

(through gritted teeth) i am so fucking normal about hashem's writing and amal. im so normal and dont think about the second chapter of this on a weekly basis and definitely dont have "why did you push me" tattooed on my arm. i love when chargestep is a psychological horror.

Justifications by old_reflexes

I love when ortega is obsessive and nosy and kind of the worst. suuuch a good glimpse into their psyche and makes me want to stare a wall.

and we’ll be here all night 'til ashes are all we breathe by godshaper

once again. im so fucking normal and do not have this fic plastered on my walls. luv interpretations of a villain reveal that happen before any of the in-canon options because watching ortega's priorities and morals immediately disintegrate is like enrichment for me.

Night Sky by Little_Goldfish

dysfunctional pre-hb chargestep my beloved yay yay i love orellia sm and i do love when ortega is written being as much a shitty b-list celebrity as they are a hero. wonderful banter and such a realistic exchange from them imo. always a push and pull dance.

Hopefully, no biting by antigonic_k

i cannot even lie and say im normal about this one tbh. every bit is a hit for me the banter the internal dialogue and writing style. the aggressive denial to talk this out like normal people. never change you two !!

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…Maybe, then, Oriana could pretend, in the sixteen or so hours in her apartment, with Dakshini by her side, hair mussed and breathing so gently, strong arms rendered soft by sleep, a face unplagued by whatever thoughts that spiral in her head, that this could work. A relationship could work. It is so easy right now to unlock the malleability in her heart and let it flood outward—to move a hand to brush the hairs across Dakshini’s face, to lean in and kiss her, to feel the warmth of her skin—but can she do the same when times get hard? Oriana’s been through it before. The demands on the industry they work in can split partnerships apart. That’s the truth. So when Dakshini mutters something in her sleep, shifting underneath the covers, Oriana gives in. She preemptively turns off her six AM alarm and instead lays awake in bed, memorizing the seconds that pass, filing each moment in an accordion of snapshots, impressions, and half-formed ideas-- constructing a memory that one day she will forget.

---

Dakshini smiles at her, eyes soft, like it means something. The flicker of light from the passing cars renders her dark eyes like still water-- deep enough to submerge, full and heavy, and Oriana is reminded of winter, a year ago, when six AM marked the time where she should've left and she did not. But it's three AM now, in the advent of summertime, and Oriana can't bring herself to leave once again. Dakshini reaches out to graze her fingers against Oriana's cheek and slowly, surely, Oriana turns her head to kiss the tip of Dakshini's finger. Oriana knows she shouldn't. Circumstances are even worse now, to bring up such old feelings. But what does it mean, that they haven't gone stale with time? With precarity? A vicious hope takes hold of Oriana before she tamps it down again, and when reality comes back to her, Dakshini is gone.

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to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you. by A History of My Brief Body by Billy-Ray Belcourt

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finally picking back up part 2 of to let a heart bleed on. i love what the destroy his confidence option during training reveals about herald but it doesn't really match up with marion's motivations so we are recontextualizing the information in constructive form instead

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Home; A Re-Gene Reveal

cyrus x ricardo angst with the barest hint of comfort at the end. found this in my drafts, apparently i wrote it months ago 🩷

1,028 words

He’s just… staring.

Eyes tracking the orange patterns on your upper arm. Settling nervously on the bandage on your shoulder.

Your stomach twists like two vipers dueling for territory. You don’t move because Ricardo doesn’t, but you’re ready. Ready to run, ready to fight for your life. Your telepathy is moot against him, which leaves your greatest asset to simmer in the back of your mind, useless.

Can you fight him? Hand to hand combat?

You don’t think so. He’s strong, an active Ranger, you’re out of practice and injured. You may have been able to win sparring sessions against him in the past, but only sometimes, and barely. Your eyes flicker down to the ports trailing down his arm and you know that one touch, one shock, and you could be paralyzed. At his mercy.

You can’t let that happen, so you stumble backwards to put more space between the two of you. The situation finally catches up to Ricardo when you move and he takes an insecure step in your direction, reaching out nervously toward you. His mouth opens and shuts as words bob in his throat. You should use his shock against him. Is diving out his living room window off the table?

Memories of Heartbreak coils in your throat and you know it should be.

You couldn’t do that to him.

But he sees you look and his expression crashes into horrified grief. Anger, even. “Ay, no. Please,” He says quickly, lunging forward and grabbing your wrist. There's an aged agony in his eyes, and you don’t need to read his mind to know that he’s reliving the moment he lost you. The moment you threw yourself out of that window and he could only watch as you fell. “Please don’t,” Ricardo’s voice breaks and his grip tightens.

His touch hurts. From his grip or the electricity he keeps sending humming into your skin, you can’t tell.

You yank against his hold; the fear is suffocating. “Let go of me,” You try for anger, but when you pull again, harder this time, you can only find desperation. His grip is too strong. You’re trapped. Trapped. Trapped.

“Cyrus, please,” Ricardo glances back at the window and another, stronger, buzz of electricity spills through his touch and into your nerves. It hurts and the pain chokes out a muffled gasp. He notices and finally drops your wrist, clutching his hand to his chest. “Mierda, I’m sorry, are you okay? I didn’t…”

You know he’s sorry, his regret almost drowns you, but you can’t stop yourself from glaring. Hard, unforgiving, dangerous. Ricardo is dangerous but you are worse. You are a monster and he doesn’t realize what he’s apologizing to.

A killer.

The Farm made you a killer.

You could kill him, if you tried.

(You’ll kill him even if you try not to)

There’s a smothering kind of fear inside your chest when the memory hits you. You recognize the hallway you charged through to escape, the phantom pain of a bullet in your chest, the texture of the Farm’s medical gown on your skin. You see a body on the floor, bleeding, crying, scared.

It’s the woman you killed back then.

And then it’s Ricardo.

He’s on the ground, clutching a hand to his chest, right above his heart. You can’t read his mind but you can feel his fear as clear as your own. You scream like you’d screamed when you’d watched Anathema die. You scream but you can’t turn around, can’t run to him, because you’re still running down that hallway and the Farm is still after you.

Your body wrenches and it’s the hot bile in your throat that draws you back to reality. Where Ricardo is still scared, still silently begging you for help, but alive. Alive for now. “I’m fine,” You lie, voice wobbling as you frantically begin to shelve your emotions away. Ricardo steps toward you, and you force your feet to stay rooted in place.

You let him hug you, his body warm and faintly trembling, but you don’t hug back.

He’s mumbling to you in Spanish, kind, gentle words. Trying to convince you of things that you can’t afford to believe. Soft things: you’re okay, you’re real, you’re still you. It takes a few moments, but then Ricardo is pulling back, hands firm on your shoulders. “Cyrus?”

You can feel his hands, warm and safe. But you’re somewhere else entirely. Somewhere cold and empty where you can escape to when the pain gets too much to handle. Ricardo knows you’ve gone, but he doesn’t know where. How could he? He’s never been a tool. Could never know what it’s like to be torn apart and-

“I’m fine,” You repeat yourself, mumbling the words into his shirt, because your mind is wandering too far from reality. Speaking does little to ground you. “It’s fine.”

“Hey? What’s wrong?” Ricardo lets go of you. Looks at you with concern and gives you a few useless inches of space. You yank your sleeve back down. An arm doesn’t typically reveal much skin, but for you, it reveals everything.

No longer tethered to his hold, you take a small breath. Routine. Just enough oxygen to keep you alive. “I need some air,” you say quietly. You back away from him and he lets you walk toward the door, muscles tense. You pause before your hand reaches for the door and you hear him suck in a breath.

Ricardo wants you to stay. But when you turn the doorknob, he doesn’t stop you.

Except…?

“Wait,” You pause because you’re a tool and his words sound too much like an order. Maybe you want to hear what he has to say or maybe you're just too tired to fight your programming. You don’t face him. “Will you come back?” His voice breaks a bit and with it, your heart.

No. You should say. You need to leave and never come back. Instead, you lock the door. Fall to the floor. Sob.

When Ricardo's arms around you, you fall helplessly into his embrace. Dangerous as it may be, dangerous as you may be, this is your home.

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Carl Phillips, from “Late in the Long Apprenticeship,” in Silverchest

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is there anything more deliciously tragic than a character running from someone because they love them too much

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comments left on the video for Iceblink Luck by Cocteau Twins 

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Make me the subject of your desire

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5.2 Miles to Friendship

Before their time in New York City ends, the guitarists for Soft Violence and Chaos Anthem take the Staten Island Ferry to see the Statue of Liberty. Or: What's Avina Khanna like when Seven's not around?

wheeeeeeee my friendship fic is up!

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get in loser we’re living past the end of our myth

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— Lina A.