#I am probably looking into this too hard but sometimes people are weird about fanfic

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

Seeing that one post going around that's just basically 'say if you ever read fanfictions that are better than published books' and it's like, yeah of course there are some that are better, because some people are genuinely good writers, but also there are good books too, and then seeing people say things like, 'I have never read a good book I only prefer fanfictions' and it's just?? Seek out some books? There are so many different kinds, for so many different things. It just sounds like you're reading for an easy serotonin boost than really engaging with the work.

People who write books and people who write fanfics have one thing in common: they write. They are doing the act of writing, and each person is going to have different styles and come at it with different experiences. Also, if your favorite fanfic writer comes out with an original work that's not just filing the serial numbers off, will you read it? Or are you only there because they're writing your favorite characters from another piece of media (which might even be from a book?). Speaking as a fanfic writer who is happy when people compliment my writing, please read some books I'm begging. Not everything is from booktok.

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[rafyki]

[Valgrace fanfic]

First Valgrace fanfic!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Inspired by @neo-kid-funk's beautiful art and by our constant talking about angsty Leo finding comfort in Jason's arms :')

So, here it is!! Hope you like it~

You can also read it on AO3!

~~~~

If you asked anyone, they would probably say that Leo is loud and talkative, sometimes too silly and unserious, and most of the times a little annoying too.

Anyone else might get offended by something like this, but truth be told, Leo is fine with it - more than fine, actually, he likes it. He has worked hard to craft such an image for himself, after all, to make so that the people around him would see him like the funny friend who always makes jokes even in the most dire situations, the one friend who you could always count on to make you laugh.

It feels safe, being perceived like this. An easy way to hide.

Leo has learned during the year, that if you are annoying enough almost no one would bother to check if your smile is an honest one or not; almost no one would care enough to dig and find out what is hidden under it.

It hurt at first. 

Leo has smiled and laughed and made jokes while screaming inside fake, fake, fake, how can you not see it's all fake! ; holding his tears until he was alone, letting it all out only in the safety of an empty room.

It has gotten easier, with time, so much that sometimes he isn’t sure himself how much of his smile is true or fake, how much of his personality is honest and how much is just his carefully crafted mask.

Maybe he is too good at building things, and that is why no one has been able to see the cracks all over his bubbly and annoying armor.

It’s easier, thinking like this rather than thinking that perhaps, simply no one cares enough to take a closer look.

And so he smiles, he cracks jokes, and he laughs. 

And no one notices when his smile turns forced, or when the light in his eyes dims and his stare gets lost far away for a long moment.

Leo is good at pretending, and so no one notices.

He wonders now if, perhaps, he has been so busy building his armor and thinking that no one would ever bother to see past it that he himself failed to look around and check if, after all, at some point, someone arrived that has been watching more closely than he believed.

It feels weird, raising his eyes after a moment of weakness and meeting Jason's concerned ones. 

“Leo, are you okay?”

The first time it happens, it takes Leo a long moment to really register Jason's words. They sound foreign, like they shouldn't be directed at him.

“Huh, yeah, man, sure I'm okay!”

Smile, fake, pretend. He could feel something cracking underneath. And, judging by the look in Jason's eyes, perhaps he heard that too.

Jason notices. Jason looks more closely. Jason cares enough to do so. 

It is subtle, at first. Subtle to anyone else's eyes, at least, but it still feels huge to Leo.

It is a simple ‘are you alright?’ when Leo gets too lost in his own head, a concerned look thrown his way when no one else seems to notice that there is something wrong with him, a shoulder bumping into his in support.

It is little, but it is there.

It is there when Leo doesn’t know he needs it, in those moments he is so used to hiding alone somewhere and just dealing with whatever it is that was pulling him down - Jason is there and, honestly, Leo doesn’t know what to do with that realization.

Sometimes Leo needs to hide, sometimes he can’t bring himself to crack a joke and force a smile and keep the facade up, and the only thing he can do is hide.

“Are you okay?”, Jason asks, because of course he does, he always does.

Leo nods, wears his signature smile and waves a hand to dismiss the question. 

“Sure am”, he says. “I just need to go to the engine room and check some things - Festus doesn't sound too good right now”.

That's his best excuse when they're on the Argo II; no one can say anything to that, because no one understands, and it's his work to check that everything is perfect with the ship. So they don't bother him, they let him go. Easily, always so easily dismissed.

“Do you want some company?”

Leo feels a little unstable on his feet. This isn't how it's supposed to go - Jason should wave him goodbye and let him go, and then Leo could hide in his safe space and just let the mask fall for a little while.

He really doesn't have the strength to keep it up right now, it's starting to feel a little too heavy.

“Huh, you'll get bored, man”, he replies. “I'm not really all that entertaining while I work”.

Jason shrugs.

“I'm just going to keep you company, you can do your work as you always do”.

It's hard, being on the Argo. For the obvious reasons (quest to save the world, constant monsters attacks), and also for the ‘only related to Leo' issues; it's hard not to feel alone, it's hard not to feel like you could easily be replaced, like no one would even notice you're gone if you threw yourself overboard. It feels unfair, thinking of his friends like that, but the knowledge doesn't make it easier to keep the thoughts away.

It's never been easy to feel like he really belongs. He's not sure anymore he knows what it means, and he's not sure if he'll ever find out.

Jason is looking at him, and Leo wonders how many of the cracks in his armor he can see.

Leo doesn't want company.

Leo desperately needs company.

He's so used to being alone in moments like this he's not sure what he wants anymore.

But Jason is there.

And Leo nods.

Jason isn't the first one to ask, of course. But he is the first one who doesn't seem to believe Leo when he nods and replies that yeah, of course he's okay why wouldn't he be; he's the first one who seem to realize that the smile carefully plastered on Leo's lips is as fake as the belief that the Greek gods have never existed. He's the first one to take a second, closer look, and he's the first one who keeps asking.

And Leo, well, Leo is getting used to it. And maybe he likes it a little too much.

He shouldn't, knows he shouldn't, knows Jason is just that kind with everyone, that he cares for everyone, that the way he cares for Leo is no different from how he cares for any of his other friends.

He knows.

It doesn't really make it any easier.

Jason asks and, usually, Leo lies.

The lies always feel familiar on Leo's tongue, so much that he's not sure he would be able to be honest even if he wanted to.

It's so much easier to laugh it away and pretend it's nothing, rather than trying to explain to someone everything that's wrong with you. What even is wrong with him? It's been so long he doesn't even know anymore. He wouldn't know where to start in telling anyone (in telling Jason, because there's really no one else. He can be that honest with himself, at least).

So, Jason asks, and Leo smiles, and lies.

And Jason doesn't believe him.

Leo starts to lean on it. To lean on the soft words of concern, on the feeling of a solid shoulder pressed against his, on the comfort of a pair of blue eyes looking concerned at him.

He’s not sure when, but at some point lying to Jason starts to feel wrong.

It takes Leo a while to recognize the feeling - he hasn’t been feeling like this for a long while, he’s pretty sure the last person who has ever made him feel this way is his mother; it feels so weird now, but Leo finds himself wanting to be honest.

“Ehi”, Jason says. “Are you okay?”

It’s become such a familiar question now, as long as it’s coming from Jason’s lips, accompanied with Jason’s thoughtful eyes scrutinizing him. 

“Yeah, sure”. It’s a reflex, replying like this. Leo regrets the words as soon as he’s done speaking them.

They’re sitting near the canoe lake, and the Camp it’s weirdly quiet.

The war is over, they’re both alive, and Leo should feel better. He does, in some ways - it’s easier to tell himself he’s enough, it’s easier to show a smile that is a little less fake than usual.

Still, sometimes, he doesn’t, and he’s not sure why.

There are those moments when he simply deflates. Once, he would have said he needs to be alone in such moments; now, he’s not so sure.

“You don’t really look okay, Leo”.

Leo looks at him, and Jason looks back at him. It’s doing something to Leo’s heart - Leo is a little afraid it’s going to set itself on fire any time now.

It’s the first time Jason calls him out on his blatant lie.

“I…”, he starts. He’s not sure how to be honest anymore, how to take off the mask completely. “I… will be?”

It’s true, he always does feel better in the end. It still sounds like a question more than anything else.

Jason touches his shoulder to Leo’s, and this time he doesn’t move back after a few moments; he stays there, shoulder pressed against Leo’s, a solid and real comfort. Leo leans into the contact, he can’t really help it. It feels nice, like he could allow himself to fall, because Jason would be there to hold him and help him back up.

“You know, you don't have to smile if you don't feel like it”.

It hits Leo like a truck. It’s such a simple thing to say, so obvious. Right now, it feels bigger and heavier than anything. 

“Smiling is easier though”, he finds himself saying.

“Is it?”

Leo thinks that right now the only thing that’s keeping him safe is the press of Jason’s body against him.

Is it? Leo tries to remember when was the last time smiling and pretending while he felt like this had actually made him feel better. He comes up empty handed.

He leans more into Jason, wishes for a second that Jason would put his arm around his shoulders to keep him together. He wishes it so hard it takes him a moment too long to realize it’s real when Jason actually does.

But no, it really is true, the weight is real and firm, and Leo still feels like he’s going to crumble any moment, but he also feels like he doesn’t have to worry about picking up the pieces, because Jason will do it for him.

Jason pulls him closer.

His heart is definitely going to set itself on fire now, but Leo goes willingly, and finds it a little easier to breathe.

He closes his eyes, and doesn’t force himself to smile.

The next time, Leo doesn’t wait for Jason to ask.

He feels himself grow distant, getting lost in the maze of his thoughts and memories, he feels a little too outside of the chatting around him; and he feels his lips grow heavy under the weight of his smile, the mask getting harder to keep in place.

It’s a little like instinct, going to find Jason. It’s a little like fate that he finds him immediately in his cabin.

And it’s a little too easy to let himself fall on the bed against him.

Leo feels a little better just with that. 

“Ehi”, Jason murmurs, quietly.

He doesn’t ask, this time. Instead, he wraps his arms around Leo, pulls him closer and closer until Leo is basically curled in his lap, head against his chest.

Jason is sturdy under him. Safe, Leo thinks as he melts in the embrace.

He closes his eyes, and can’t feel anything but Jason around him, his hand caressing his head, his scent filling his senses.

He hasn’t been this bare around someone in years; he never realized how heavy his armor became until now, when he’s finally thrown it on the ground. Jason has taken it off of him piece by piece without Leo even realizing.

He doesn’t feel like smiling right now, but feels calm, quiet. 

The sound of Jason’s heart is the only one he can hear, and Leo almost thinks he can follow a morse code hidden in it, behind every beat.

His own flaming heart is doing the same as he runs and runs - but that code, Leo knows all too well.

His fingers start tapping it on Jason’s chest.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Maybe, one day, he’ll be able to tell him out loud. Maybe he can give Jason some more honesty.

Maybe Jason can understand it already.

For now, he holds tighter onto him and lets himself be held.

Leo soon finds out that Jason's arms are incredibly warm and welcoming, and that it's way too easy to fall into them.

It becomes a habit, and something that Leo doesn’t want to go without. He tries to, reprimands himself every time because it’s not right and it’s not good, and it’s only going to hurt him again and again and again. And where will he even find hiding and comfort once Jason himself is the reason for his spiraling?

But Jason is always there, and Leo can’t help himself.

And so, he doesn’t even wait for him to ask anymore, he simply allows himself to let the truth show, to stop smiling and fall silent, and he leans into him. Jason is always ready to catch him.

Leo wonders if Jason has the slightest idea of what it means to him - of what he means to Leo. Leo would love to have the courage to tell him - or, better, tell him in a language that Jason understands. 

Instead, he falls into him, snuggle into his chest, and loses himself in the feeling of strong arms circling him as his heart runs around in a fire in his ribcage and his fingers tap the same hidden message on Jason’s skin.

It’s so engraved into him, at this point, that his heartbeat probably follows the same pattern, the blood in his veins pumping to that same rhythm.

Maybe that’s why it takes him a long while to realize that that same pattern is being tapped on his own arm. Jason’s fingers follow the familiar movement of Leo’s, speaking the same words that his heart screams every second of every day.

Leo feels it against his skin, and he wants to cry.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Jason doesn’t know, Jason doesn’t understand, or he wouldn’t be doing that.

Leo lets himself feel it one more time before reaching out and catching Jason’s hand to stop him.

“What’s wrong?”, Jason asks.

For a long moment, Leo can’t find his voice.

“Stop”, he manages to say in the end. 

“Why?”

Such an easy question for such a complicated answer.

Leo wants to be honest. He desperately wants to put a fake smile on and leave. But he wants to be honest. He tries to find a joke to say, somewhere in his brain - something that would make the tension dissolve. 

It’s become way too difficult to lie to Jason though, especially when he’s holding Leo like this.

“You don’t know what it means”, he ends up saying. 

A moment of silence follows. Maybe Jason has gotten tired of trying to talk to him, after all.

“Of course I do”.

Leo stops, then turns to look at Jason.

“No, you don’t”.

Jason smiles, and Leo’s heart stops beating. There’s no way he isn’t going to set himself on fire any moment now.

“Yes, I do”.

“Then why are you doing it?”, Leo asks. He tries to move away, to put some distance between them, tries to take his armor and his mask back; but Jason keeps holding him, and keeps them out of his reach. 

“Same reason why you’ve been doing it all this time”, he says. Then adds, “Or I hope so”.

“Oh, I doubt it’s the same”, Leo scoffs. 

He hates the way Jason is looking at him right now, hates the way he himself is feeling right now. Still, he can’t help but lean into the touch when Jason cups his face - gently, he’s always so gentle with Leo.

His fingers start tapping again, slowly, like they’re engraving the pattern right onto Leo’s soul.

“Leo”, Jason says. “I’m going to be brave for the both of us if you’ll let me”.

Leo wants to say something, anything, but his voice is gone again.

Ha can feel nothing but Jason all around him, can’t hear nothing but the hidden words being written on his skin.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The pattern merges with the spoken words as Jason says them.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Leo still can’t find his voice but his fingers know what to do, and so they reply, carving his feelings on Jason’s chest.

It’s a little like a dream, except that Leo’s dreams are never this nice.

He hides his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, hoping that he won’t set fire to the both of them. Jason lets out a soft happy laugh and holds him closer, leaves a kiss on the top of Leo’s head.

Leo is bare and honest like he’s never been before.

He smiles, and thinks that that feels like belonging.

[insertsomthinawesome]

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.

But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business. I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art. Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.

I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.

I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.

I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.

I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.

I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)

I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.

And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)

From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)

Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in. Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.

Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜

[anonzentimes]

Hi Zen! This might be another difficult question for you to answer, but I'd like to ask: Which official artwork of Nagito do you like the most?

Even in the official art, he looks different sometimes, doesn't he? I am still confused as to what color his eyes are. (In a lot of fanfic they are described as gray, but in some art they are clearly blue).

I would like to know which of the official artwork, whether in games, anime or manga, is your favorite.

Whoa!! that Is a difficult question! I'll try to answer it though haha!

I have a lot of them I like but choosing one is pretty difficult... so I'll just start this answer off with a discussion on the inconsistencies statement! I believe Nagito's eyes are definitely gray, at some points it maybe hard to tell but they're definitely gray! There are a few anime moments where his eyes feel green, some promotional material straight up changes it to green, and a small amount spin off art may change it to something that can be interpreted as blue, but for the most part they are absolutely gray.

I think the only actual very small change he undergoes is his color tips? His hair always has a gradient but the colors used for it are a little inconsistent sometimes. In Danganronpa 3 they're red and occasionally purple so it's a little weird haha! Sometimes he's not drawn with his gradient at all, a slight gradient with the same color, a red gradient, or a purple gradient so it's pretty confusing. His gradient also changes with how prominent it is depending on the art if there even is one. He's drawn most often with red subtle tips though so I think that was the intention. You could probably chalk it up to lighting if you wanted Lol.

While I do love a lot of his sprites I think some of them are pretty restrictive and lack all of the emotions we know he's able to show because he does in other appearances. This is why I really like when the Mangas allow him to be very expressive beyond what his sprites can convey! I think his sprites can really excel with some expressions but falls flat with others.

Rambles about his sprites in Dr2 and his slight inconsistencies aside, a lot of his art is great! (I'm very biased) but I do have some strong opinions, positively and negatively, on quite a few of them. The main thing is that I don't know if I actually have a favorite??? It's a really difficult question.

But I do want to highlight these three dr2 cgs I really like! He isn't fully 100% consistent here but I really like them. I know a lot of people think Nagito's showing Junko's arm art looks bad but I honestly like it. Nagito about to play Russian Roulette is such an awesome moment too! The one where he has the fire behind him is not only really cool, but also a really good in game shot of most of his body from a different angle!

I truly, again, love his manga art! His specific spin off's manga has a lot of really amazing, interesting, and fun visuals! Even if I'm not really fond of the anatomy the artist uses it's still really good stuff. The Danganronpa 2 spin off mangas have really good anatomy and expressions he looks sooo good there I'm in love with it.

While I'm at it I also want to highlight his reference sheet, it's clearly consistent because that's the job of a reference and I think his expression is pretty cute here. I don't really see people talk about it so I just wanted to also bring it up Lol.

For the most part I've really struggled to directly answer your question because he has a lot of different interpretations, art, and appearances that all mix together into one mental image or understanding of what he looks like for me. I really love most all of his art so it's hard to say. Nagito has a lot of different tones in his art as well, from his crazed ramblings to happy expressions, he has so many tonally different art pieces because he excels at being sweet and intimidating. This makes it even more difficult!

In conclusion, I don't believe I can come up with an absolute answer for you unfortunately. Regardless though, I definitely learned from this that I have strong opinions on all of his art. I hope you enjoyed my appreciation for some of his art and small talk about mild inconsistencies of his haha!!

Apologies this took so long and Thank you for your ask <3

[dandylovesturtles]

Fanfic Writer Ask Game!

🎯 🦈?

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

nope. I am at the whims of my inspiration and energy levels.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

in ROTTMNT I would probably say Mikey. I think it's a little easy to lean too hard into the sort of "sweet little brother" thing that a lot of fandom likes (this isn't meant as a callout, lol, I like it too) and forget that he is canonically a little gremlin who is very silly and sometimes pretty gross (I mean he's a 13 to 15-year-old boy so it tracks).

Also he probably has the least defined character arc of literally every main character in the series (including the supporting cast like April, Splinter, Draxum, and both Caseys). Leo has his struggles with his place and identity within the team as well as his growth as a leader, Donnie has his issues with feeling replaced and directly linking his family "needing" him to his family loving him, Raph is struggling to live up to the expectations of the clan and his role as a big brother, April deals with her struggles connecting with her own peers and her fear that she doesn't count as part of the fam, Splinter has a billion things going on, Draxum has a whole redemption arc (truncated as it was) and Casey Sr effectively does too, and Casey Jr. has grief and trauma. And Mikey... would probably have had a really good character arc if we'd gotten the rest of season 2 and season 3!

A lot of Mikey's episodes where he gets to really get feelsy and show his emotions are directly tied to other people's character development, especially Donnie's and Draxum's, so we don't get as much of what his deal is. The only really solid Mikey centric episode is Hot Soup The Game, which definitely brings up Mikey's frustrations with being the youngest and thus babied as a result, so that's something you can draw on for his character, but even that's more tied directly into what he wants from interactions with other people and less about what he wants for himself.

(the truffle episode is super weird... like Mikey learns not to take his friends for granted? I guess?? I wouldn't have expected him to in the first place but yeah I guess that's some character development lol)

(actually as a total side note, it does annoy me a little that when Todd is first introduced as a character in Season 1, the whole point of his superpower being niceness was that he was so nice you'd do anything for him, and even villains were unable to turn him down, which was a really good gag and made him an interesting character. Then at some point it became that Todd's niceness meant he couldn't turn anyone down and suddenly he was just kind of a doormat, to Mikey first in the truffle episode and then all of them later in Todd Scouts. I actually like the Todd Scouts episode but also you didn't have to do that to him lmao)

(actually actually even though I like Todd Scouts I would have loved a version of that episode where Splinter stayed with them in the woods and then we dealt with how his feelings were hurt by the kids being more interested in their phones than his teaching and they could have pointed out that their dad kind of waited until late in life to start teaching them life skills and IDK WE DIDN'T GET THE FAMILY BONDING CAMPING TRIP WHEN THEY GOT CAUGHT IN THE TURTLE TANK IN SEASON 1, WHY DIDN'T WE GET IT IN SEASON 2??)

cough. anyway.

yeah so I always feel bad that when I look at my AUs and stuff I always feel like I give Mikey the least. I'm so sorry, Mikey, you're just already perfect and I don't know where to take you. ;;

Thanks for the ask!

[marnz]

since i'm one of those people who watched tsn in 2023 (i was 12 when tsn was broadcasted) so it gave me this weird mixed feeling whenever i read markwardo fanfic because knowing how bad these people actually are irl and not some uwu precious baby but i can't blame fanfic writers in 2010-2011 for thinking zuckerberg and saverin were cool because during that time facebook was indeed cool and the internet was younger at that time too, the fic are good i admit but sometimes i need a moment to rethink why am i reading irl capitalists fanfic, it's so hard to distinguish between tsn and irl material most of the time too and not to mention tsn was just a story written based on irl saverin pov of fb and he was also an asshole. The only fun time to enjoy tsn was probably 2010-2011 because fb was cool, the cast was close and now even the cast of this film probably don't even contact each other anymore despite being so closed in 2010, sorry for rambling i just think it's amazing that people who enjoy tsn in 2010 still post about it in 2024!

well anon. Like I said. You had to be there. Look I love context and you said you were 12 in 2010 so here is some context: yes the internet was younger and yes fb/meta had not destroyed democracy yet but I also think there was more of a sense of hope related to technology, as opposed to dread. A lot of tech and social mainstays had not happened yet, politics were drastically different, Chris Hughes (cofounder of fb & communications guy) helped Obama get elected, people didn’t think global warming was real, society was MUCH more conservative and homophobic, etc., and the internet was the place to be.

when you say the internet was younger I’m interpreting this to mean that FB had not come into its final form yet, which is true, but also it & the internet was such a radically different experience. It felt limitless. You weren’t corralled in as much. You could go anywhere, you could find anything, you could make your own websites very easily, you were not assaulted by pop ups and apps were not mainstream because Apple didn’t launch the App Store until 2008. It was so easy to learn how to code. The operating systems between Apple and Android were SO distinct. Twitter launched in 2008/2009 but wasn’t quite so relevant until idk 2014? Fandom had just migrated from LJ to Tumblr but Tumblr was also hotter with the aesthetic girlies and porn blogs. “The algorithm” didn’t run the world. Yesterday I tried to find an article by searching for it and both Google and DuckDuckGo completely disregarded my request and did not turn up anything relevant. I can assure you that would not have happened in 2011. So there was SUCH a sense of optimism because the internet felt like a social good instead of an obligation that is increasingly privatized, surveilled, constrained, and decayed.

Which is why TSN got made and why there was an interest. It was a source of profound social change. But anyway. FB/Meta has ruined lives and it and all other social media apps that elevate divisive opinions to prompt as much engagement as possible (have you heard of the awful Isabel Fall twitter scandal? I recommend this article) are awful! And yet there’s an expectation of being online because a lot of communities now organize online, a lot of services require being online, etc., fandom has become less centralized/less unified, which is its own post.

Out of curiosity, what led you to watch the film? I do find it fascinating that there’s been a resurgence of TSN fandom. If this article had not been written I would not be posting about it but there’s still a lot of fic being written and fanvids being made to Taylor Swift songs. But it’s fandom devoid of all this context. So it is very strange, because you know what FB and all these people in it will become. I think I would have the exact cognitive dissonance you described if I watched it for the first time last year and tried to read fic. It is SO deeply fictionalized, so much of it is radically untrue, but you as the reader carry the truth in your mind. Which is why I cannot and do not engage with these days. And why I hold TSN in my mind curtained off. I spoke with many ppl from the original fandom yesterday and trust me, no one wants this.

I think, realistically, whatever movie Sorkin wants to make will probably be very good. It’s probably a good story to tell & explore. But I won’t be watching it. I lived that shit

[raccoonfallsharder]

you've probably already answered something like this before, but if you're okay with sharing, how old are you? your writing is so good and I'm a freshman in college looking to major in creative writing so I can't help but be curious about how long you've had to write about sexy raccoons :)

LOVE. you sweet little mint latte. thank you for this ask and may your college years be full of a wealth of learning both in and outside of the classroom and may every experience bring you joy. may they not be the best years of your life but only because every subsequent year only gets exponentially better

anyway i am entering my

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* crone phase *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

in my mid-thirties. discovered fanfiction around the turn of the fuckin millennia and if you ignore the fact that i’ve taken a few multi-year breaks that means that my fanfic career is older than some of my tumblr friends, probably including yourself. horrifying!

⸜(♡ ॑ᗜ ॑♡)⸝

for what it’s worth i was a lit major in undergrad (my school had creative writing classes but no specified major or certs). not sure if you want to hear about that or not but i will say i enjoyed most of my classes a lot and it taught me a lot of valuable skills that have been transferable to other areas of my life (though it has sometimes been hard to market them)

honestly i think (and i know this isn’t what you asked but im going here anyway) that what has been most helpful to me as a writer - far beyond classes or professors - has been just reading ♡ A LOT ♡ of weird shit, and then talking about it from a nerdy standpoint with friends (what did i enjoy or hate about this text? this style? these ideas? how the narrative weaves together? the language? is the writer a good writer? is the writer a good storyteller? how are these different things? what is my personal authorial/narrative philosophy or foundation - like what is the thing i aspire to accomplish with my narrative technique?). so i read SO MUCH fanfiction - yes. and poetry - yes. and YA/kid’s books. and short story collections where the authors are doing weird stuff with narrative. and authors who know how to write PEOPLE, poets who know how to write FEELINGS, or writers who know how to entangle plotlines in creative ways.

books & friends are a writer’s best teachers imo (outside of life itself i guess???)

blah blah blah i’m starting to realize i probably don’t get a lot of asks because i write too much in response. but regardless you are a precious perfect crispy autumn leaf and i love you very much and i hope you receive scholarships and grants at every turn and never end up having to pay a penny for your education. thank you for this question ♡♡♡ i deeply appreciate you indulging my love of asks lol

[heavencasteel420]

I probably won't finish the fifth chapter of Tonight, Tonight, the Highway's Bright until Tuesday or so, but in honor of the We Love Jancy Fanfic Event, I'm posting the first bit (Nancy's letter to Jonathan) right here:

Dear Jonathan,

Guess who’s grounded for a week because she disappeared for almost three hours on Thanksgiving Day? That’s right—it’s me! Mom was frantic when I came home, with Dad and all the relatives tiptoeing around her, nibbling on hors d’ouvres. Apparently she’d called Steve (even though he was in Virginia with his grandparents for Thanksgiving) and Tommy (as though I’d spend any time with Tommy on my own) and Carol (which at least makes sense—she was in town and we do hang out a lot, unfortunately). Plus half a dozen other people from school, so everybody’s whispering about how I’ve gone crazy again. I guess I’m lucky, because if I hadn’t broken my hand and screamed at my mom in front of everyone last winter, they’d be gossiping about how I must have been cheating on Steve, or doing drugs in the woods, or going to the Planned Parenthood in Bloomington for a VD test. I’m insane enough that nobody has a problem believing that I’d skip out on Thanksgiving just to smoke cigarettes and listen to The Lexicon of Love in my car by myself.

(Do you like ABC? I bet not. I bet they’re too goofy for you.)

That’s what I told everyone, by the way. I figured you wouldn’t want everyone in your business, even though you don’t live here anymore. I thought about telling Mom, because she always liked you and she’d be glad to hear you were doing all right. She’d probably say something to Dad, though, and he’d let it slip to people at his job. I thought about telling Steve, too, because he’s maybe the only person who seems to think I was acting weird (for me, I mean). He keeps asking why I didn’t just fake sick or go to Carol’s if I needed a break from my family. That’s what he does when things are tense at home, basically: pretend to be too tired from basketball practice and hole up in his bedroom, or visit me or Tommy. Sometimes I worry that he has the idea that I’m cheating, like maybe Billy Hargrove said something to him, but I don’t really think that’s it. He’d be mad at me and Billy, and he’d be hurt, and he’d have every right to feel that way, but he wouldn’t be too scared to ask me if it was true. Because that would be a shitty thing to do—it was shitty to let Billy feel me up that one time—but sometimes normal girls cheat on their boyfriends. He’d know what to do with that—dump me or forgive me or get back at me with some other girl. But I don’t think he even knows what he’s afraid I’m doing.

Speaking of being afraid to ask things, Mom hasn’t said one word about the cobbler. At first I assumed she’d forgotten—there were two pies and cookies and ice cream for the dessert already—but then Dad asked if there were any leftovers of the cobbler on Sunday, and she told him it’d all been eaten up. Maybe it was. It’d be a lot for one person, but probably your roommate ate some of it. What’s he like, anyway? I don’t think I even asked whether you met him through school or work or what. I guess I talk a lot about myself. Did you like the cobbler?

Well, I get out of prison on Saturday. I’m going shopping for winter formal dresses with Carol. I am not looking forward to it. All the girls have been bringing catalogs and magazines to school this week so they can show each other their favorites, but it just makes me sad. Barb and I used to look over Seventeen for hours and talk about what we’d wear to high school dances, when that was still years away. We used to wear matching outfits. Do you remember that? The same styles, but different colors, because I was a brunette and she was a redhead. Like Betsy-Tacy. But you’ve probably never heard of Betsy-Tacy.

Anyway, Carol’s a redhead, too, and she’s mad because pink dresses are so “in” this year. It’s hard to find one that’s any other color. She thinks it’s some kind of fashion law that you can’t wear pink if you’re a redhead, even though all the magazines say that you just need to pick a shade that complements your hair color. She told me that’s just a lie advertisers made up to sell lipsticks. (There’s no way you’re interested in this debate, but you’re going to hear all about it, anyway.) She’s been pissing off all the other girls by criticizing their dress choices. Chrissy Cunningham, one of the cheerleaders, almost cried because Carol said her carnation-pink Gunne Sax gown would made her complexion “look like ass.” And Nicole Evans isn’t speaking to her because she said Nicole could wear anything she wanted, because she “has a face like an angry hardboiled egg no matter what she does.”

(I feel bad for Nicole—her face doesn’t actually look like an egg—but I’d feel worse for her if she wasn’t always talking behind my back about how sad and boring and not-that-cute I am, and how she can’t believe Steve ever looked at me twice. She’s not totally off-base, but I don’t think she should blame me for Steve’s bad taste, ha ha.)

About the only girls who are still talking to Carol are me and Heather Holloway. Heather has black hair and looks gorgeous in pink, so Carol couldn’t really insult her. (She couldn’t insult me because I didn’t tell her my dress idea—I want one like Ariel wears in Footloose, pink and off the shoulder—but I’m sure she’ll do it on Saturday.) But Heather’s mother is taking her shopping in Indianapolis, so it’s just me and Carol at the downtown J.C. Penney’s…and Mike. I don’t know if Mom’s still punishing me by making me chauffeur him—he shot up a few inches over the summer and seriously needs new pants—or if she’s just desperate to get him out of the house. Honestly, though, he’s not going to make the trip worse. Carol will be annoying about it, but she’s always kind of annoying. Plus she’ll talk the whole time, so I won’t have to figure out what to say to Mike. He’s so quiet nowadays. I worry about him sometimes.

By the way, don’t think that you’re getting out of meeting me at the mall in Indianapolis. Your time is coming, because the selection at the J.C. Penney’s downtown is never good, and I still want my dish back.

Love,

Nancy

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Waaaah (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ ty tyyy!! I wasn't kidding about the length so I still apologize 😅😓 You know how when we’re younger we always wanted to get involved in the “cool stuff the big kids were doing,” whether said “big kids” to us were 13 or 16? When I was little, I wanted Steven to be my big brother or cousin. Since I never had any female cousins my age, I mostly grew up around boys and we did cool things like hang downstairs in their basement theatre, convince our parents to stop at a Walgreens for SillyBandz, and go wild jumping on the beds in their Hotel room with Light Sabers and Harry Potter Wands. (Look, I was like 9-10 this was cool to me 😂) We were a Trio, stuck in the backseat of the backseat of the car, status: gremlins in kahoots. It was weirdly poetic, there was only a year between either of us and I was the middle child. Really movie-like three Musketeering it here lol. Imagine how heartbroken I was when my parents told me they weren’t really my cousins, just really close family friends that we called them “cousin” regardless because they were there for my birth. Anyways, this and how whenever some older male that, I assume were probably late teens early 20s now that I’m older and thinking back, came over, kid me would see all the grown-ups talking to them like equals, being allowed to do “stuff” (it was probably like running an errand for an aunt or setting up tables tbh, I sure don’t know) and were asked about what they were studying at the dinner table, I thought it was so cool that I wanted to grow up fast and do whatever they were doing, go wherever they were going with their friends while I had to stay inside and help clean up because my mom said I wouldn’t be interested and that “they’re just doing their own thing.” Even at theme parks, couldn’t go with them.

Enter: The World of Pokémon. Discovering Fanfics, and the Found Family Trope. And Badass Young Protagonist Dreams we all might’ve had at some point. It’s a coin toss whether Crystal or LeafGreen was my first game, but I ended up really attached to Leaf (after a period of hating her because how DARE she look like my OC who was designed to look like me + the effect of early 2010s era of people hating OCs and only accepting canon characters in fics.) Though let’s be real, she probably looks like a lot of people, compared to having gravity-defying blue hair lol. It’s kind of hard to get May’s hair-style exact too sometimes if you don’t have bangs and short hair, and hers still flutter outwards by themselves. So anyways, this is all a lead-up to what brought me to thinking, “man, wouldn’t it be SO cool to be Champion and the bestest of buddies with the other Champions? (As the games usually sold the story to us)” Because friendship is awesome, teasing and banter and knowing personal things about each other and being considerate about it is sweet, being privy to secret projects the grown-ups never let you in on (I say secret project as if it’s some big thing when they probably wanted to enforce bed times and “that movie is too scary for you” lol) but anyhow, still epic.

I’ve never been able to bring myself to making another Pokémon OC, so I use Leaf as my stand-in for just about everything. I think the one thing holding me back from posting publicly is not everyone thinks the same as me. The game characters have no canon personality, so it looks weird. (Unless if I take influence from Evolutions, which validated so much for me.) They’re trapped in their games. And largely influenced by “majority accepted fanon.” As a result of that, I "should" be writing a wing-woman to the Red x Blue ship. My fic would probably go over better if I used May.

Okay, I have read everything through, but I am going to respond to each message one by one so I can get all my thoughts out! First off, thank you SO MUCH for sharing your brilliance with me. I am honored to get a peek inside your mind! This has been an incredible read. It sounds like you had so much fun with your cousins growing up, and I totally get what you mean about seeing older-but-still-young people doing stuff and you're like, "Hey i wanna hang out with them and tag along too!" But then you grow up and realize that you rushed through your childhood for nothing and ow, that's so real. RIP to all the OCs who fell to the flames of the early 2010s OC hate. OCs aren't for everybody (just like reader inserts), but those that will read an OC grow to love and appreciate them as much as any canon character. Though, there is also absolutely nothing wrong with projecting your OCs personality onto a canon character (if you're in our steven stone discord - which i mean, you're on anonymous so i'm not even gonna try to guess - you see that we do it ALL. THE. TIME.) I'll get more into canon personality vs. author interpretation vs. reader interpretation in the next bit, but I think it's important that you've recognized what you feel fandom has dictated you "should" do. You've recognized it. Now throw it out the window. Your fic will be its best self if you write what you want to write, and I promise, there WILL be someone who resonates with whatever character choice you make, whether they be in the minority or the majority. (To be continued...)

[tozettastone]

Hello! Any tips for a first time fic writer? I am stuck at the actually posting it part lol

Oh nice! It's so exciting to be a first time poster! At the risk of exposing myself as a serial account monogamist (if such a thing exists), I've had multiple different LJ, FFn and AO3 accounts on different occasions. I love the feeling of a clean account, no expectations, all softlike and fresh and new... it's like opening a new notebook. No messy writing in it yet. Only clean pages as far as the hands can flip... hnngh. (...Of course, there's something to be said for a full notebook stuffed with notes and ideas, too)

So the situation is: you wrote a fic you like, and you want to share it online, and you're looking for tips or thoughts on that because you feel some trepidation about it?

Okay, sure, in no particular order, in a nice list of dot points:

Posting a fic isn't like having a baby, you're not permanently committed to the thing you produced just because you posted it. It's your writing and you can do what you want with it. You don't have to keep it. Ophan it. Or take it down. Or close comments. Or keep it as a monument to past sins so you can laugh nervously about it later.

Mean readers really aren't that common, although I understand that many fic writers worry about it. (And, it's also dependent a bit on fandom, I think.) Most people who dislike your fic will have a whinge to a friend in private, as is their prerogative. You'll never know and you won't have to care. On the off chance someone is actually mean directly to you about your fic in public, well, character evidence immediately shows why you don't need to worry about their opinions.

Do remember to tag your fic if you're posting on ao3 though. Minimum: main characters, major pairings, big 4 archive warnings. Do it for the team. 💪

Despite people's weird moralistic screeds about "creating for yourself", there's nothing wrong with wanting engagement. You wouldn't post if you weren't excited to share in some capacity! But you kind of have to protect your ego a little against the possibility of not getting that engagement. Sometimes people aren't into what you're into. That's normal, so it's best not to think about it in terms of what engagement you might be "owed".

Readers are looking for what they're looking for, which is probably another time travel au or a lengthy navel-gazing romance between indistinguishable white male characters. There's no need to internalise engagement as a comment on yourself personally, that way goes madness.

Fanfic is only as high stakes as it is in one's head, honestly. It's a hobby. Have fun, don't think too hard. It's usually not that serious. If something goes wrong you're still not going to hurt anyone.

I'm not sure if this is what you were looking for, but there ends my advice on this topic. Sorry if you were looking for something different, anon.

[nerdflash]

Lights, Camera, Action

A/N: It’s been a long time since I wrote anything and posted it here. I’ve been reading some great fanfics since coming back and I’m overwhelmed to even think there was a time, I had people asking me to write things for them. No one asked for this, but I’ve been feeling inspired. I’m thinking of making it a little series so let me know your thoughts and if you want more.

Synopsis: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader. You’ve been working on the set of a new film Tom is in, and the two of you have hit if off and seem to spend a lot of time talking in between takes. Your feelings are beginning to grow for him, but you’re unsure if Tom feels the same way.

Word Count: 1.3k

Mentions: Social media, a mention of being followed and one mention of a sex dream.

PART ONE - On Set Favourites

You’re stood next to your manager Vanessa, who, since you started the job, has treated you like an equal and a friend. 

“So if you could oversee the evening shoot tomorrow and organise any logistics, I would owe you one.” You tilt your head and smile. Vanessa has a second date set up with a guy she’s been sweet on for a while. You can’t possibly say no. Besides, you love your job so much and have worked so hard to get where you are, that you’re willing to put the time in.

“You don’t owe me anything, just promise tell me all the details.” She smiles at you and nods her head, her eyes glancing behind you before meeting your face again.

“Oh I will, besides...Tom’s shooting tomorrow and he’s walking over here right now. Have fun.” You feel your cheeks flush and don’t have time to say anything as Vanessa walks away, a mischievous grin on her face. You turn around and see Tom smile at you.

You can’t help but smile back, it’s hard not to when his whole smile lights up the room. You push a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he reaches you.

“Hey Y/N.” The way he says your name makes your stomach fill with butterflies. Despite being British yourself, his accent is so much cuter than yours.

“Hey Tom...How are you doing?” His eyes soften and he nods his head.

“I’m good...So...Is it true you’re overseeing tomorrow’s shoot?” You nod your head and cross your arms over your chest, a playful tone to your voice.

“That’s right Mr Holland, is there something wrong with that? Because I can speak to Vanessa and change…” He laughs and shakes his head, taking a step closer to you.

“No, no...I just wanted to ask. Besides...You know you’re my favourite.” You blush and roll your eyes.

“You’re just sweetening me up, so I bring you Starbucks aren’t you?” Tom has the good grace to laugh and look mock offended.

“I am not sweetening you up for a coffee!” He pauses a beat and then says “I’m sweetening you up for a muffin too.” You laugh and the two of you walk to the catering table.

“So, any plans for the weekend?”  You pour the two of you a coffee and pass a cup to Tom, shaking your head.

“Honestly. I think after the shoot tomorrow, I’ll just want to stay in bed for a week. But, realistically, I should probably start looking for a new place a bit closer to work.” Tom takes a sip of coffee and eyes you over the cup.

“Room mate still being difficult?” You nodded your head and lean your butt against the table. 

“Yeah, she woke me up 2am last night having an argument with her “boyfriend” then I had to endure them having loud sex till 3am!” Tom sighs and shake his head.

“I’m sorry, listen, I could ask around, see if anyone is looking. Maybe point you in the direction of some areas where you don’t feel so on edge walking from your car.” You’d told Tom about the time some weird guy followed you from your car and loitered about the entrance of your building. It had shaken you up pretty bad and for the rest of the week, Vanessa had called you and stayed on the phone until you’d gotten in your apartment safely.

“Thank you, though nowhere too expensive right? We’re not all blessed with the looks and talent to be in front of the camera.” You nudge him with your elbow and he grins and looks at you.

“You think I have looks?” You laugh shaking your head,  your cheeks flush.

The thing about Tom though, is he’s genuinely this friendly and talkative with everyone, so you know you shouldn’t read too much into the flirty comments. But recently the initial feelings of just finding him really easy to talk to, confide in and laugh with, have changed. You’ve found yourself thinking about him more. When you get home after a long day, you find yourself scrolling through his Instagram and resisting the urge to like all of his photos and videos. You’d even recently had a sex dream about him and the memory suddenly makes your palms sweat.

“Are you ok Y/N? You look a bit flustered.” Tom’s face is etched with concern. You shake your head and take a step back, your hand coming to the walkie talkie fastened to the hip of your jeans.

“Uhh yeah, I just remembered that I have to…” You walk away leaving Tom confused and leaving yourself feeling annoyed at being so hung up on a guy, that is being nothing more than friendly.

- 

You sit back in the chair and stifle a yawn, stretching your arms above your head, you close your eyes and tilt your neck, trying to work out the tension. Tom’s voice pulls you from your reverie.

“I thought you might like this.” You open your eyes slowly as Tom leans forward and places a steaming cup of coffee in front of you. You wrap your fingers around the mug, savouring its warmth and smile softly at Tom.

“Thank you.” He nods and pulls a chair up, sitting down, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“You’re welcome. I figured you needed it, I know I did.” He takes a sip from the cup and sits back in his chair. His eyes looking forward and watching the lighting guys, set up for the next scene. He seems a little, distracted and your brows knot in concern. Leaning forward, you say softly.

“Hey, Tom...Are you ok?” He lets his head fall back as he takes a deep sigh, before slowly looking over at you.

“I just...I just sometimes I wish I was better at all of this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Tom gestures at the set with his hand and leans forward in his chair.

“I just...Worry, I guess. Like I feel so blessed to have landed Spider-man, but I just worry no one will see past me as Peter Parker, you know? I know I shouldn’t complain, because I know how lucky I am, but I want to be versatile, not just seen as a teenager. I always worry doing projects like this, that I won’t be taken seriously.”

You reach over and tentatively place your hand on Tom’s knee, his eyes fall to your fingers before meeting your eyes. 

“I take you seriously. I know it doesn’t count for much but...Like honestly, I’ve been watching your scenes in this film and I’ve been blown away. When you shot that scene the other day and your character started crying, I had tears in my eyes. You’re so, so good. Both as an actor and a man.” You can’t decipher the way Tom looks at you, because he places his hand on top of yours and you feel as though you’re falling.

“Do you really mean that?” His eyes are big and sincere. You nod your head and smile at him softly. 

“Every single word Mr Holland.” He grins at you and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You savour the feeling of it for a moment, before pulling it away slowly and taking a sip of your coffee.

“Thanks y/n...And what you think does count to me.” The pair of you hold each others gaze for a moment before Tom coughs, his eyes shining playfully.

“So...Still planning to spend your weekend in bed?” You raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Why do you make it sound much more exciting than it will be? But yes, I am...Ooh, apart from one apartment viewing in the afternoon, thanks to one of your contacts.” His face lights up.

“That’s great news...Let me know how you get on.” And before you realise he’s reaching over, grabbing your phone and putting his number in it. He stands up and passes it back.

“Text me.” With that he walks away towards the set and you look down at your phone and see he’s saved his number under “My Favourite” And once again, you find yourself wondering if Tom is just being friendly or flirting.

[movieexpert1978]

Oooh if you’re still doing fanfic prompts, would you write anything for Doc Ock? Cause I would like to request the hurt/comfort part 2 either 4 or 8 with him

Hello anon !!! I finally got a story written for you!!! I hope you enjoy it. I went with #4 "You don't have to be so brave when you're with me." The list is posted by @creativepromptsforwriting

There is some angst here, mention of character death, violence, blood and swearing. The perfect Doc Ock fic, lol. I hope you enjoy it.

Different Stages

She had met him more by accident when she had just finished a job. She was tucking her rifle away when she heard a constant thudding. It reminded her of the T-rex arrival in Jurassic Park. She kept her gun out as he arrived. She had seen the papers and he was the infamous Doctor Octopus as they had labeled him. Two mechanical arms were on the ground while the other two hung around his shoulders protectively.

“Are you going to shoot me?” He asked curiously.

“No, I don’t kill people for free.” She shrugged, lowering the rifle. He took off his sunglasses to look at her.

“You don’t look like an assassin.” He said.

“I know Doctor. That’s why I do it.” She smiled. An eyebrow arched curiously at her comment. “So just passing through?” She asked.

“Actually yes.”

“Well Doctor I won’t keep you. Have a nice day.” She said before leaving.

“Yes that was weird.” Otto said to the arms. There a few more encounters like that until he finally got her one quiet night.

“Are you stalking me Doctor?” She teased.

“Call me Otto.” He answered. “And…yes I supposed I am because I would like to know your name.”

“Call me Evee.” She answered.

“Like the Pokémon?” He asked surprised.

“Oh nice…you’re a bigger nerd than I thought.” She smirked.

“I’ve got a lot more time on my hands.” He shrugged.

“My full name is Evelyn, but I prefer Evee since I always have to change my look at times for a job.” She said, showing a wig. Her hair was short but had some dark orange highlights in it.

“Why the orange?”

“Fall is my favorite season.”

“It’s September.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas person?” She huffed.

“No I prefer summer.” He stated.

“Hey if they can do fucking Christmas in July and have Christmas trees out at the end of September then I sure as hell can do my Halloween at the start of August.” She said defensively. Otto let out a genuine good belly laugh.

“Fair enough. That’s true.” He chuckled as he walked closer to her on his own legs.

“Why the sunglasses?”

“My eyes were damaged in an accident.”

“Oh that failed energy fusion thing?” She asked.

“Yes.” He nodded quietly. He noticed her eyes were an interesting shade of green. The arms stared at her curiously as well. One inched up to her and she held out her hand. It nudged it and she traced her fingertips along the metal.

“Are they alive?” She asked.

“In a sense yes, artificial intelligence.” He explained. “They’re surprised you’re not scared of them.” He added.

“I’ve seen people do a lot worse.” She shrugged.

“Is this your style, hanging on roof tops and shooting people?”

“It’s the most effective method.” She answered. “And I’m quite good at it.” She winked. “Can they come off?” She asked pointing to the arms.

“No.” He turned around and showed her the outer spinal column that had been fused into his spine. “That happened during the accident too.” He said before he turned around.

“Ouch, I’m sorry.” She said with sympathy, but he only shrugged.

“I can do a lot more now.” He said. “So Evee, do you live in the city?” He asked.

“Why ? You want a date?” She teased. He actually blushed.

“No, I just wanted to ask since we keep running into each other.” He said quickly.

“Well yes I do.” She smirked. She took out a notepad and wrote something on it. She walked over and put it in his coat pocket. “If you ever want to drop by.” She winked before she left.

Xxxxxxx

The October chill was starting to come and things were getting wet with the rain as well. Evee had finished another job and she started to walk home. Her rifle concealed in it’s long back pack. She stopped and sniffed the air. “Mmmm…rain is coming.” She said. She also noticed the smell of bad after shave as she started walking again. She knew she was being followed as the rain started to fall. She walked down a few back alleys she knew and tucked her rifle in a corner she knew wouldn’t be disturbed. She walked calmly as her other two guns hung on her hips under her long jacket. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps. She wouldn’t be surprised if more people pooped out so she had to keep her eyes open.

“Fuck it.” She whispered to herself. She spun around with her guns and started shooting. She took out two before more men charged at her from the sides. She ducked and spun around one guy, using him as a shield as his companions still fired and killed him. Evee got off a few more shots before she was punched at from behind. She growled as she grabbed his arms and elbowed him right in the face and broke his nose. He shouted in pain as she shot him in the head. Evee shouted when one man plunged a knife deep in her hip and dragged it to make her bleed.

“Fucker!” She shouted and punched him right in the throat. He started gasping for breath as she shot him. A few more shots and the group was finally down, leaving her breathing hard. “Fuck!” She gritted as she stared at the infernal knife. She couldn’t take it out until she got to her apartment because that’s where her medical kit was. She was limping badly as she made her way back home and finally closed the door behind her. She stumbled into her bedroom and yanked the comforter off. It wasn’t the first time she had nights like this and it made her invest in black bed sheets to help deal with the blood. She got into a tang top and cut her pants off before grabbing the medical kit.

“What happened?” Someone spoke. Evee grabbed the knife at her nightstand and threw it. It was easily knocked out of the way by one of the arms.

“Otto…fuck…sorry…act first…think later.” She sighed.

“No hard feelings.” He said as he came over to her. “What happened?” He asked again.

“Got jumped by a few pros. They didn’t make it.” She smiled.

“Is this normal for you?” He asked.

“Happens at least once a year. People do it to cover their tracks or just want to get rid of the completion.” She shrugged. He couldn’t believe she was so casual about the whole thing, not to mention the knife still in her. “You wouldn’t happen to be a medical doctor too?” She asked with a smirk.

“I have picked up a few more medical skills. Could I tell you if you hit a vein? No. Could I stitch that up if you asked me…yes.” He stated.

“Thank you.” She sighed. He took his coat and gloves off, along with his sunglasses and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m not going to talk you through it.” She said.

“I don’t need you too.” He replied.

“Good, because I’m taking a shot of morphine.” She said as she dug through the bag.

“You’ve got morphine in there?” He gasped.

“Yeah, never leave home without it.” She grinned.

“Easy.” He said taking her hand. She looked at him and for the first time since they fight was she able to finally catch her breath. “You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” He said gently.

“Thank you Otto.” She rasped quietly. After a few moments he helped her take her shot and laid her down on the bed. “Next time we have to have dinner first.” She mumbled before she fell asleep.

Xxxxxxx

She woke up with a hiss of throbbing pain in her leg. She looked down and saw a blanket on her. She pulled it off a bit and saw her wound all bandaged up. She looked at it puzzled for a moment as she started to remember last night.

“Thank you Otto.” She sighed.

“You’re welcome.” He answered as he came into the room. She looked up to see him holding a plate of breakfast for her. While one the arms held a gall of orange juice for her.

“Awww.” She smiled weakly as he came over to her. “Hey can you hand me that aspirin bottle please?” She said pointing. Another arm handed it to her and she couldn’t help but giggle. “They’re so cute once you get used to them.” She said.

“They say thank you.” He said. She took her pills and started eating.

“Thank you for your help last night Otto.” She said quietly.

“You’re welcome Evee.” He smiled.

“Can you…can you stay with me for a little bit…please?” She asked almost like a frightened child.

“Of course.” He nods and sits next to her. After she finished her food she snuggles up to him and he doesn’t question it.

“Did you eat already?” She mumbled.

“Yes. Your apartment is very nice. I’m guessing you own it?”

“Yup.” He started rubbing her back and she hummed softly. The aspirin helped with her throbbing leg. She felt warm and safe in his arms. She couldn’t help but cling to him a bit more tightly.

“Are you ok? You’re tense.” Otto said.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt safe with someone.” She answered honestly. She looks up at him again as he gazes at her. “I know that probably sounds weird coming from me right?” She laughed weakly.

“No.” He said shaking his head. “I’m glad you feel safe with me.” He smiles. She leans in a little closer and so does he. She’s hesitant to go further, but he does it for her. He gently kisses her and she eagerly responds to his touch. She moans softly against his mouth as he lays her back down while his hands cup her face. When he finally pulls away her vision is blurry as she tries to catch her breath. “Evee what’s wrong? You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” He asks concerned.

“N-no.” She says, surprised that’s she’s crying. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve felt a connection with someone.” She admits.

“I understand.” He nods. “I lost my wife, Rosie, in the accident. I thought it was all over…but they…talked to me.” He said pointing to the arms. “And then I kept running into this assassin who named herself after a Pokémon.” He laughed. She couldn’t help but join in.

“I hope I get to meet her sometime.” Evee teased. Otto leaned into her again and gave her another tender kiss.

“Can I stay here for a little bit…please?” Otto whispered. She could hear the pleading in his voice.

“Of course you can.” She smiled. Otto pulled her back into his embrace gently. The arms wrapped around Evee carefully and protectively. She felt him kiss the top of her head before she fell back to sleep to the hum of the metal and the beating of his strong heart.

AN: Just in case, Pokémon isn't mine along with Doc Ock.

[blarrghe]

6, 13, 16!

6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

adgajsha sex scenes. also sometimes I just get stuck or can't focus but that's more because my life pretty frequently burns me out and even hobbies get hard </3 (I just got a newjob though so like. thoughts and prayers)

I think I have a process that works for me, atually. And it's: shitpost notes -> point form outline of actual notes -> fill in -> edit and fill in some more (repeat until done). I don't find any part of that process hard really and if I'm not in the mood for the part I'm at I usually have something else that's somewhere else in the process I can work on. So it's just the executive functionality of being able to do anything at all other than endlessly spiral into the void of internet nonsense and pacing around my kitchen. But when that kicks in I go for a walk and sometimes sit and write by the river ;)

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why? Bit of both, I guess! I very adamantly only wrote original fiction and thought fanfic was lame (without actually having looked at any) for a long time. Then I kinda grew up but still didn't participate. Then I wrote some fanfic Just For Me and didn't publish it for like four years. Then I found it again, looked at it, thought "hey this is kinda good actually", wrote more of it, posted it, got no notes but began to get something of an eye for what I actually enjoy in the fic-writing scene, scrapped all of that and began to write things with a full "fuck it" attitude and just had fun!

That older fic does embarass me a bit, but more because I've improved as a writer and not because it's Cringe Fanfic. Fanfic is my cringe haven 😌 And as self-indulgent as all of it still is, I now feel like some of what I do is Good Art and I'm pretty dang proud of all the heart and hard work that goes into it!

As for the whys, I think initially "fanfic" just had a bad rap of being terrible and/or full of Weird Sex and I was just not really interested in weird amateurish writing. At best I was like "yeah yeah good practice for the teens who suck at tenses". And it still is both those things, and I still am picky as hell (though less of a square), but it's also a whole world of creative writing free-for-all that is really cool specifically BECAUSE it contains everything from terribly written weirdness to truly profound literature and, probably my favourite, majorly indulgent Fuck It comfort food. I'm a bit of an arrogant hipster but I've learned that letting people just make shit and not being a judgy dick about it is what's truly punk rock, and that extends to all forms of art and expression.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to? Kinda answered above. I don't really go back to things from too long ago because they're not as well written and they just aren't my daydreams anymore. I reread Matchsies and Twelve Nights like, all the time, and sometimes I go back and appreciate some of the shorter ones too, especially if someone happens to remind me of it hah. But anything I have going in progress are also my current brainworms daydreams bedtime stories and I just turn them over and over.

[ladyofthenoodle]

Ramble Anon, kind of here again? It’s been a few days, at least!

I have been mostly channeling my excitement for the new episode into writing an exploratory fic of sorts - not based on the episode itself, but an exploration of the LadyNoir fallout and how the same scenario can look wildly different to two separate perceptions within that scenario (and then it kind of, kept growing from there). But I noticed there has been a few different discussions on fanfics recently and I was wondering if it was okay to ramble/get advice about branching into the writing of fanfiction?

I adore all of the works that you have written - especially your Three’s a Crowd series with Alya as the main perspective (the little section where she talks about how full everyone’s head is while acknowledging her own inquisitive nature is probably one of my favourite parts of any fic featuring Alya as a main voice), and I was actually kind of curious if there was anything to look out for as a fic writer? If you wouldn’t mind sharing of course! I know writing is a cultivated skill and Tumblr is a cultivated platform, and the only way to really get a feel or a foothold for either is to simply dig in and try it out to see what works and what does not. (And I am, kind of doing neither by slinking around on Anon). But for just, using AO3? Or updating fics in general? Are there any tags that there should be a need for clarification on, or to try and avoid to steer clear of the salt side of fanfics or anything like that? Or is one simply going to have to brace for the inevitable instance of unhappy circumstance when it comes to submitting any part of oneself into the world for all and sundry to see?

Although, if I do create an AO3 account, that means I can finally go through and comment on all the fics I love (and hopefully restrict myself from spamming anyone who has a lot of fic…)

Sorry if this is a weird ask again.

ahhh thank you so much 🥰

for writing advice, i do have to admit upfront that i haven’t really cultivated the skill in a very systematic way? don‘t get me wrong, i work really hard on my stories, but a lot of what i’ve learned is through reading lots of things and talking with other writers. i would definitely recommend that if you have some writer friends to chat with them about their stories and your stories. learn about their process! get their feedback on yours! even just talking through ideas with other readers can help too.

some people have written guides for tagging on ao3, but personally i just look through tags on similar fics. for avoiding salters, aside from the obvious tags, stay away from “marinette dupain cheng deserves better” (or, at this point, “adrien agreste deserves better” given the marinette salt level now) as well as tags like “alya cesaire redemption“ because alya and other characters shouldn’t need it in the first place. i also avoid a lot of chloe tags like “chloe bourgeois being chloe bourgeois“ unless i already know the author. i’m sure there are others i’m not thinking of but these come to mind first. but sometimes salty commenters show up either way. they get easier to tolerate over time but they’re never fun.

lastly i would recommend getting a beta if you can! they can help with tagging and stuff too and even give you a feel for how fandom might react. even if they aren’t a writer you can share the story privately and ask for their reactions as a reader before posting. good luck!

[it-was-summer]

Who Do You Love? (Five x reader)

Requested: YES!! I am so so so happy that people are sending in requests! Also I am so sorry that this took me so long to write, I just started college in August and I haven’t had the motivation to write, with love em. I hope this satisfies <3. @kennahargreeves8​

Plot:Could you do a Five x reader fanfic where the reader and Five are mean to each other and they like each other. The reader kidnapped by the commission because they distracted Hazel and Cha Cha from kidnapping Klaus and the reader and Five kiss at the end.

Word Count: 4,674 (I went overboard)

He was nothing but a little boy, even in his adult body. You were working at the Commission when someone had brought up the appearance of a boy running around in the wastelands of the post apocalyptic twenty-nineteen. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and yet there he was.

It took the commission a few years to decide to let him become a field worker, like you. You were a good field worker, always got the job done right, worked alone, worked quietly and didn’t ask for too much. You didn’t enjoy it as much as they thought you did, but it paid well and it was guaranteed protection.

He needed to be trained and one day, when you were about to leave your hotel room, The Handler was standing in front of your door with number Five. “No,” you went to close the door, but a polished, red heel stopped you. “He can get trained by someone else.” You begged as you slowly opened up the door.

“I know, Sweetheart,” She reached out her hand to gently pat your face “You are simply, the best!”

You scoffed at her reasoning, stepping to the side to let her and Five enter the small room. “I’m simply the biggest pushover.” You corrected her gently as you sat on the edge of your bed, looking over at Five with a slight frown. He was inhabiting a body that was older than you envisioned. You requested to be put into a body that was in its early teens. It allowed you to stay alerted and awake, it didn't wear you down too much.

It was easy to fool people like this, but it did also attract some unwanted attention sometimes. You could feel your frown turn into a small grin at the memory of a woman asking ‘where your parents were’.

“Five won’t intervene, he will just be shadowing you for the time being,” she pat Five on the shoulder with a perfect smile. “I’ll see you later.” She waved her goodbye and then she was out the door, leaving the two of you alone.

Your partnership with Five was anything but short and sweet, the Handler wanted him to be with you for almost two months just so the commission could see just how good Five really was. He had talent that was sure, but he was too loyal. His loyalty to his family was definitely going to kill him.

He was also incredibly annoying. He wanted to do everything his way. He was always right about everything. Everything.

You wanted to go around the back, Five would blimp in before you could form a plan. His power was a major disadvantage to you, because you were just a normal assassin working for a company that dealt with the fabric of time and space.

He thought he was just so smart, so amazing. He was just so full of himself, it made you want to vomit in your mouth. If you went against any of his ideas then you were suddenly an ant. Nothing more than an ant on the sidewalk, getting yelled at by a grasshopper.

Nonetheless, he was a really talented recruit. He had the makings for a successful assassin but the talent he possessed could also lead to his downfall.

If you were being one hundred percent honest, you liked Five. You liked him because he was a hard worker and loyal friend, if you were giving him the title of friend.

He was nice to talk to and if you had to pick someone in the commission to team up with it would be Five. He was witty, never missed a beat and he let you make fun of how old he looked.

One day, while you were working you saw your friend in the briefcase room, the two of you made eye contact, you flashed him an easy smile and then you turned the corner. You didn't see him return.

Time was fluid here at the commission. It could be six days in one timeline could be an entire year at the commission, people worked fast and within the timeline. When it had been the day for the Kennedy assassination, all hell broke loose.

Normally you didn’t really care for things that caused people to run around in a hurry, yelling out orders from the Handler and panic ensuing, it wasn’t until you heard someone say, “Five’s gone awol” that you stopped in your tracks and let out a shaky breath, knowing that your friend probably wouldn’t be back alive.

No one seemed to care that much about your missing friend, a part of you wanted to ask the Handler what she was going to do to Five when they found him, but she was too stressed to even look your way.  

You played with the watch, resting on your wrist, thinking about how many days it has been since you last saw your older friend, how many weeks? It was weird. Your friendship was weird, indeed. You were in such a small and young body and he was not, he had wrinkles. He was gross, you felt a tear slide down your cheek, gently swiping it away before deciding that you need to stop thinking about him before you got even more upset.

Days passed like years and months passed like centuries. No one uttered a word to you, but Five was buzzing in everyone’s mouths. He was messing up the timeline, you shouldn’t be worried, you should be ashamed.

You felt a bitter taste in your mouth as you stood up from your desk, wandering over to the briefcase room, people entering the room and leaving the room and a man at the desk in front of it.

Before you knew it, you were slipping into the briefcase room, grabbing one and vanishing with a flash of blue light as people screamed your name.

You knew where you were, you set the time, and now you were in the front yard of a classic looking building, doors and gates cleverly embroidered with two umbrellas. You swallowed hard and opened the gate.

You couldn’t knock on the door, you just stood there paralyzed, briefcase in hand. It was so stupid, you could run someone through with knife but you couldn’t knock on a stupid door. The only reason you abandoned the doorstep was because you were sure that you could hear someone talking close to the door. You walked with your head down, moving through the narrow streets of the city, narrowly missing people and letting your head fill with anxious thoughts.

The loyal part of you wanted to go straight back to the commission and apologize, hopefully not die and hope that you wouldn’t get fired, but there was a bigger part of you that needed to save your friend. You didn't have many friends so you needed to take care of the one you had, even if it meant leaving the commission.

When everything was taken care of, removing the tracker from your arm, then you set off back towards the academy. Along the way you were trying to summon any remaining courage you had left with every heavy step, blood dripping down from your arm at a sickening slow rate.

Your plan was to hide the briefcase outside of the house, knock on the door, ask for help and get inside. You didn’t want Five to know you were here, if he opened the door you were fine with it but you didn’t want one of his siblings telling him the news without your knowing.

You stashed the briefcase amongst the bushes in the front of the house, almost invisible, and then knocked on the door. The person who opened the door was a beautiful woman, dark skin and ombre hair in tight curls. You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes filling with false tears “Miss, could you please help me?” you asked, voice cracking ever so slightly as you lifted your sleeve to show her the deep gash in your arm.

Then you were in, sitting at a table getting stitched up by another beautiful woman, dressed in a 60′s like fashion, perfect blond hair and a pleasant smile. She smiled ever so softly as she closed up your wound, ignoring the group that was surrounding you in the kitchen.

There were just three of them, two women, one of them being the women who opened the door and the other looking much more cautious matching the face of one very large man standing behind the two of them. You winced and let out a small sound of pain as you struggled to say your name, telling the story about how you had lost your mother on the streets and how someone attacked you in an alleyway.

The three of them looked anxious as the blond beauty finished fixing your arm and stood up in a cheery manner, leaving as she pondered about a woman's life out loud. They did say his family was strange, you never got any case files on them so they weren’t your concern...well right now they were.

They soon introduced themselves, Luther was the large man, Vanya was the small woman and Allison was the glamorous woman, you shifted in your seat, drying your eyes. “I’m sorry for intruding, I just ran to this house because of the umbrella,” You explained, gently caressing your arm, feigning childlike shyness.

Luther nodded a little as Allison started to speak “They make you feel safe?”

“No, I just like the decoration.” You responded in the best way you thought a child would. You had to use this tiny body for your best interest.

Allison, advocating for you, persuading her siblings to let you stay in her room promising she would actively look for your ‘mother’, mentioning how if her daughter was in your situation she would be dying of worry. To save her, the unnecessary worry you assured her that you had called your mother at a nearby payphone and told her your location, telling her that you were going to go into the umbrella academy before you went in. She seemed skeptical, but somewhat satisfied before leaving you all along.

You knew that you were not a welcomed visitor, nor could you stay very long, you just hoped that Five would be back before you had to fake your leave.

You sat on the bed, playing with your hands, chewing slightly on your lip deep in thought when you heard the familiar sounds of guns going off down the hall. When you opened the door you saw two figures in their masks shooting up a room, backs towards you, Hazel and Cha-Cha. You ran down the hall, passing a man taking a tub taking a bath, oblivious to the events unfolding around him. You ran down the hall into a vacant room, hiding against the wall behind the door.

After a jaw clenching minute, the dripping man came into his room, oblivious to you as you pressed against the wall watching him dance. It was then the attacker came into the room that was when the dripping man was made aware of the situation he was when. Hazel advanced towards the man, your tiny structure giving you the upper hand as you moved in front of him and swiping at his feet. He dropped, grabbing your ankles and pulled you down right after. The last clear thing you saw was the man running out in a towel yelling for his siblings and then the butt of Hazel’s gun coming down on you.

You came to, your eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness of what you assumed to be the truck that surrounded you.

They were idiots. The two of them, they kept asking you where Five was, and claimed that you were one of his siblings. Every time they would ask you would answer with ‘I don’t know’, the question was so repetitive that you wanted nothing more than to scream that you were with the commission. They had yet to notice that you were a desk worker, and ex-assassin, at the commission, they were just simply so amazingly dimwitted.

You hissed as Cha-Cha slid the blade of knife across your cheek, pressing hard enough to definitely leave a scar, warm, crimson blood trickling down your cheek before you let out a soft whimper of annoyance.

“You two are just going to keep asking me the same question over and over again aren’t you?”

“Of course, we know that he would have told his siblings where he was,”

“Not this sibling,”

“Soon they’ll be looking for you and we can get them all at once, you and your freak family will be wiped out of existence.” Cha-Cha hissed as she sat down on a chair directly across from yours. “So where is he? Don’t you care about your siblings?”

“Not necessarily.” You said with a dirty smile, tired eyes burning as you stared at her confused face.

“I’m done!” she said, shoving herself off of the chair and storming over to the bathroom in a fury, leaving you alone, Hazel following her silently.

It had hours since they kidnapped you, assumed you were a sibling of Five’s, and were now torturing you. Waterboarding occurred, it felt nice to have a clean face, a close call with a finger nail removal played out, but for the most part they would just keep beating you till you felt dull. The feeling of nothing spread across your body like an invasive species. It didn’t numb the pain, but it did numb the feelings that came with the pain.

You were tired, alone and desperate for a savior. You tried to gain the attention of the cleaning lady while you were locked and gagged in the hotel closet, but that attempt was futile.

You were strapped to a chair now, once again getting asked the same question over and over again. You were getting sick of this question, probably because you shared the same question as them. Eventually they both resided into the bathroom, you were facing a window with a strip of duct tape over your mouth when you saw the outline of a woman pass by the window. Using this as a lame excuse to try and escape you started to slam your head onto the table, praying to something that you would be heard.

This is when your emotions started to return, you felt terrified, the idea of dying here was terrifying. You were so close to finding him and these dim witted assassins shouldn’t be the final stop. You needed to get out of here. You wanted to live. That’s when the door unlocked and you made eye contact with a woman holding a gun, her eyes instantly locking onto yours.

She spoke but you just nodded as she freed you from your restraints. You shakily got to your feet, but then the bathroom door started to open and the shooting started. You hit the floor and started moving towards a rather large vent, you pulled the metal covering down seeing an all too familiar briefcase as you started to crawl into the vent, pushing the briefcase with you, finally escaping from your tormentors breathlessly.  

Now you were running down a street, blood dripping from your arm again, having reopened your wound in the vents, but that didn’t matter, you were free.

You held onto the briefcase as you limped through the night streets, you didn't know where you were and you were hoping you could find a way back to the academy without those idiots following you. You needed to find Five. You sat on a park bench and fixed the briefcase to this date and time and changed the location, and suddenly you were there in a brilliant flash of blue. 

When you appeared in front of the academy the first thing you did was destroy the briefcase, you had yours and those irritating little try hards didn’t deserve a way back home. You threw the dismantled briefcase into the street, hoping it would get run over or explode or something, one of the two. You walked up to the clean glass doors, looking into the bushes for your own briefcase only to greeted by the same plain green shrub you were already searching. You cursed softly to yourself and you reached for the doors, throwing any caution to wind. 

After what you had just been through, you didn’t care. You were hoping that their ‘mother’ would care for you if she found you first. You really didn’t care what happened, you just needed to see Five. If you were being honest at this point he was your only hope, a friendly face that would hopefully give you food and water. You were hungry. 

As you walked into the ,surprisingly, unlocked house no one greeted you, silence was your host. You aimlessly walked upstairs, towards the only area you were familiar: the bedrooms. It was the last place you had been in the house, maybe that man in the towel would be there, maybe he could help you with finding Five. You could hear voices, a conversation, a conversation that hopefully involved something interesting, one where you weren’t going to get beat up at the end of it. 

You walked faster down the fall, taking a turn, getting closer and closer till you stood in the doorway of the room of the man you saved from Hazel and Cha-Cha. He was in there but he was talking to a young boy, he looked about your age, talked like he was older. 

The man’s eyes landed on you in the doorway and you saw a haunted expression on his face and you knew he must’ve been the one to take your briefcase. Nobody looked calm when coming back for their first time, especially if it wasn't intentional. You were about to say something when the boy spoke up first. 

“How did you get in here?” he asked rather alarmed. You sent him a small look of confusion before you remembered that this, in fact, was not your house. 

“I... uh, the door was open,” you answered lamely, hoping that this little boy, whoever he was, would let it drop. You pointed at the man you saved, “Why do you have a horrified look on your face and where is my briefcase?” you questioned, stepping into the room, only to be blocked by the boy. 

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” the boy said, something about the way he said your name was familiar. You took a small step away from him, how did he know your name? 

“How do you know my name?” you said retreating to the door, closely watching the two in front of you. 

“What do you mean, ‘how do I know your name’, you trained me!” he scoffed at you, letting the realization dawn on you. 

“Five,” you beamed, rushing to him “oh you're so tiny! Just like me! I was here looking for you, but then Hazel and Cha-Cha,” 

You were cut off by the older man, “She saved me from getting kidnapped from those psychos’ in the masks and then I found the briefcase out front, thought it had money in it, and I went back to Vietnam,” he breathed, sounding plain exhausted as he told his short story. You nodded a little as you watched him fall onto the bed with a groan “Now can you two please lower the volume?” he ended, frowning at you and Five at the center of the room.

You inched closer to bed, reaching up to tap his shoulder ever so gently, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his aching head “What did you do with the briefcase?” 

“Destroyed it,”

You let out a small whine before you nodded, turning around on your heel and leaving the room, let out a tiny yell in the hallway before you turned around seeing Five staring at you with a small grin on his face.  

Five had left the academy in a flash, only to return seconds later, you watched him as you were left sit in his room as he began to frantically mutter equations to himself, writing out his process on the walls around the two of you. You stood up, staring at his work on the walls with a small frown “What exactly is your plan?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at Five, seeing him pause his frenzy. 

“You aren’t involved in the plan,”

“Five, don’t be ridiculous! I’m here, I’m your ally, let me help you.” You pleaded calmly, walking over to him with a little smile. He looked better now, age wasn’t really a concept at the commission. Technically you were in your forties but you looked about fifteen or fourteen, and now Five looked the same. You thought it was funny that he used to wear clothes like this everyday. 

“You aren’t even supposed to be here, besides I need someone here at the academy to make sure something doesn't go wrong. You got promoted to a caseworker, so you know how important this must be.” 

Your smile dropped, but you nodded in agreement, knowing that he had a plan and you had to stick to it if you wanted this to pan out well. 

So now you were waiting at his house, he said he was going to go and meet Hazel and Cha-Cha, with a fake briefcase. You could tell he wasn’t telling you the whole truth, it was the way he scrunched up his nose, that's how you knew he was lying. 

You never felt so helpless, you didn’t know how to stop the apocalypse and you didn’t know if you would be any help in stopping the apocalypse. So now you laid on Five’s bed, it didn’t smell like Five. Five smelt like pine and a tiny hint of sandalwood. You smiled a little as you turned to lay on your side, letting exhaustion catch up to you as you fell into a deep sleep. 

You were pissed, it had been a day since Five disappeared, leaving you to watch over his chaotic family. They always had so much drama, and they did not trust you. You understood them not trusting you, but come on really, stop with the dramatics. You sat on a bar stool, listening to the siblings bicker among themselves for what felt like a second time when Five dropped out of the sky, slamming onto the island. 

His siblings clamored around him, asking him questions, but he stood up, stole Allison’s coffee, downed it and then lectured his siblings. He then explained that they needed to stop Harold Jenkins. You tuned out the rest of the conversation, eyeing Five carefully, something about him wasn’t right. He kept ranting on and on with his siblings continuously bombarding him questions, and yet all you could do was stare at him. 

The little brat wasn’t even acknowledging you, he was so... infuriating. You moved to follow Five out of the room, wanting to help, even if he didn’t want to. So now you were in the backseat with Allison, while the Five and Diego bickered in the front seats. When Diego left, the three of you stood outside the alleyway, and you and Five watched Allison make a call to Vanya. 

You looked over at him, a frown still etched on your face as you stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole plan?”

“You didn’t need to know the whole plan, you need to stay put and stay safe.” 

“You don’t know what I need,” you gently kicked his shoes with yours, your voice cracking slightly “,what if you died? What would I do then? My goal isn’t to save your family’s life, it’s to save yours. Tell me what I would’ve done, Five.” 

Five stared at you after that, looking a little shocked. You understand why until he reached up towards your face and brushed the falling tear off of your cheek before he let out the smallest “I’m sorry” you had ever heard in your life. 

When the four of you arrived at Harold’s house you had a small lump in your throat accompanied by a feeling that something bad was about to happen. Then when Allison called us up your eyes followed his every move, the way he gripped his stomach and swayed, and before you knew it he dropped straight to the floor without any warning. 

Your eyes were glued to the bed, it was better than looking at Five, every time you spared a glance at his unconscious body you felt your cheeks get hot and your eyes fill with tears. You hated feeling so useless, why was he making you feel so useless? It was cruel, the cruelest thing he has ever done to you. You cared for him so deeply and it was cruel of him to ignore that. 

When the sheets of the bed shifted, you lifted your eyes to look at Five, seeing that he was indeed awake. He made a move to get up, only to be greeted with your hand pushing him back down onto the bed. “You’re an idiot if you think that I am gonna let you get up from this bed.” 

“I have to get up,”

You cut him off by lightly pressing on his stomach wound, “You don’t have to do anything with that wound,” you sat down again feeling Five relax under your hand. You let out a small sigh, puffing out your cheeks as Five and you stared at each other. “You’re insufferable, Five. I have never met another person or thing more insufferable than you. You need an award.” 

“You aren’t really that great either.” 

“Keep your mouth shut Hargreeves,” you ran a hand through your hair with another sigh “I came here to help you, I left my job, sucky as it was, I left it to help you, because why? Because I didn’t want to see you get killed when you came back or hear that you were horribly terminated by those idiots that tortured me. I know you aren’t the kindest person, but I shouldn’t feel like this...” You stuttered gently looking for the word, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You were mad but something struck you deeper, maybe it was fear or concern, maybe it was disdain? Something stronger than what you were used to. 

You felt fingers ghost over yours, you looked up from your hand staring down at Five as he sat there as he silently, played with your fingers. “I shouldn’t feel so helpless, I feel like I shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t have left the commission, especially when you don’t want me here.” 

“Who said I didn’t want you here?”

“You did,”

“I said that you shouldn’t be here, not that I didn’t want you here. I want you to be here.” Five muttered in a sweet tone as he cautiously held your hand. 

“Don’t say things to make me feel better, it’s horrible to do that to a girl,” you slowly moved your hand away before Five caught your wrist, stopping you from moving away further. “What are you doing, Hargreeves?”

“Something that I should have done when I saw you in Klaus’s room two days ago,” he said, sitting up and leaning closer, and without realizing it you were leaning closer as well. 

“I need you to come out of this alive, Hargreeves.” you said in a tiny voice, different from your usual bold volume, sounding oddly vulnerable. 

“I will,” Five then pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, pulling away quickly “and so will you.”

You smiled a little and let out a tiny laugh “Okay.” you whispered as you leaned in once again to kiss him on the lips.