#are we really putting a tag on how much someone grieves???

[sirlancenotalot]

the fact that people still use the "no one would talk to a friend that way" "no one would grieve for someone like that if it was just platonic" etc arguments to prove a ship is canon is so annoying to me. yes i get it, we got queerbaited hard but where does it say that romance has to be higher than a friendship or no one said friends couldn't also be lovers or vice versa....? i normally say "popular media tropes that usually are for romance" when i talk about fiction but pulling a blanket statement like "NO ONE talks to a friend that way" is so invalidating to so much of our queer experiences. the beauty of queer friendship literally lies in the emotional fulfilment we get from our friends in a way that i don't normally see in cishet friendships for whatever reasons. so idk it's just been bothering me to see these kinds of posts every now and then. "you wouldn't do [x] for your friends" i would actually. i would sell my soul for them. i would kill for them and kill myself for them. i would do anything for my friends that i would do for a partner. the "proof" for a ship doesn't have to be by invalidating their friendship. also like aren't most of the ships so powerful when they're also each other's closest friends? do y'all not think of your partners as your best friends?

[dootznbootz]

I don't know about you, but I'm a bit mixed about Calypso in EPC. I mean, her songs are good, her singer's quite talented, so I don't have a problem... musically, at least.

But, story-wise, Calypso seems a bit too victim-like in my taste. "I'm not sorry for loving you" seems like it wants to make us sympathize with her and to consider her as Odysseus' friend.

While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her.

On the plus side, "Love in paradise" affirms she's the powerful one and Odysseus later confirms he doesn't love her romantically (plus Athena's 'he never cheated on his wife' line in "God games")

So it won't be detrimental for OdyPen 🥰.

What do you think ?

Oh, I'm definitely mixed about Calypso in Epic. As just like you said:

"While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her."

The Epic Fandom already DOES forget what happens in the Odyssey or think that they are the same thing. :/ I see stuff talking about Scylla in how Odysseus lights the torches and yet, it's tagged as "Odyssey". I love "light up six torches" as it's very dark but also very painful for Epic!Odysseus and that's really fun!

But I get saddened when people think that happened in the Odyssey ;~; as it's one of my favorite parts where Odysseus, knowing that Circe warned him, still goes to put on his armor to try and fight Scylla himself. He tried so fucking hard to save them. And they all grieved later on together. Eurylochus does mutiny in both but in the Odyssey, it isn't because of Scylla or anything. They were all just...Hungry ;~;

That's not even talking about how the Epic Fandom was when we only got the snippet of "There are other ways" ;~;

I still remember when there were jokes about how Odysseus is just like Hamilton and "Couldn't say No to this." Also Circe never did that to "protect her nymphs" in the Odyssey. She did it for funsies as she's a goddess and can do what she wants. That doesn't mean he was happy though.

I DO trust Jay to do well with Calypso's island. While I really am nervous about "I'm not Sorry for Loving you." like very nervous. I think HE'LL also make it clear that Odysseus isn't well or happy. As he has that cut song with the lyrics of:

"Is this some kind of trick? Pretending I can go Because if so, you're sick My heart's already broken"

So even though he cut that song because the beat and the music did NOT fit the situation, I'm very sure he'll have another like it showing Odysseus' despair and suffering.

I just... sighs I'm in a funky situation where I love Epic. I love it a lot. I think it's a genuinely good and fun retelling. I think while some spots are inaccurate, some are still really neat. I just get sad about this almost...disdain towards the actual Odyssey?

"Oh, Odysseus doesn't mention Penelope and Telemachus as much as he does in Epic-" Yes, he does. It's in so many of the metaphors and there's so many moments where he's clearly thinking about them. I love singing Penelope's name longingly too but an ancient epic poem is gonna be a lil different xD

"Oh Polites isn't really in it-" ...And?? That's okay. You enjoy Jay's character he created who really isn't in the Odyssey as much.

"Odysseus is such a manwhore in the Odyssey-" I am beating you over the head with a fucking rock.

Jay is clearly so fucking passionate and cares about this story so so much (he had a MENELAUS SONG (I grieve it's loss every day ;~; THEY CAN BOTH SIMP FOR THEIR HOT AF WIVES)) He had other characters planned!

But yeah ;~; I get so fucking sad every time someone talks about Epic being better than the Odyssey. Like even JAY wanted to clear that up that "hey, the Odyssey is really cool! I mean I wrote this because I love it so much." and yet... people don't wanna know or even TRY to understand what happens in the actual Epics.

I have hope. I just hope the FANDOM follows through.

[mirage-aera]

can we please get more angst? 🙏

like what if reader decides to unalive herself? cant take the grief anymore and knowing that drinking and binge eating will not do anything but just burn money and delay the inevitable. and simon is too late to save her. cue simon grieving in return and drowning in guilt and self hatred for putting her in that situation.

•°. *࿐ Drowned

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2

Synopsis: By the time Simon returns to your shared home, it's already too late for you. You've hit rock bottom in the rabbit hole, and Simon is ready to jump into that same hole.

Word count: 2.606

Masterlist

First of all I’d like to apologise for my two month(?) absence. I got overwhelmed with school work that I needed to focus on and some personal problems happened. For anyone who has stuck around, this is the long waited part 2 that I promised a while ago. I haven’t written anything in my long break so bear with me. Second of all you guys really want more angst from me. I was planning on doing a happy ending but this will do.

TW!! Suicide, alcoholism

For the people that wanted to be tagged: @somehopeatlast @yyiikes

It’s too much. Everything is too much. Everyone has been telling you that healing takes time. When in reality, all that you feel is despair. Instead of the wound gradually closing, all that’s really happening is your heart getting ripped out day by day. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this charade up. You’re throwing people fake smiles left and right, and ‘I’m fine’ has left your mouth more times than you could actually care for. It’s as if you’re living life as a mindless zombie. Barely doing the bare minimum to sustain yourself. Every time someone checks up on you, you tell them you’re doing okay, could be better but you’re fine. At least, that’s what you want them to think. You’re just a shell of the person you were when Simon was still here and alive. You’re blowing through your money like no tomorrow. But can you get yourself to care enough to do anything about it? No, and not for the foreseeable future. You spend your days drinking away, either at home or in bars. You’ve tried moving on, but the only thing you’re able to see in them is Simon. You chicken out before anything can get serious. Your bingeing habits haven't changed a bit, you’re on the same routine.

It's been months and you can’t get out of this rabbit hole you’ve dug yourself. Months.

It’s crazy to think about the chokehold Simon has on you, even when he isn’t physically here himself.

You’ve had enough. You’re not living life as is. You’re practically a dead person walking, a mindless being. All you’re doing is blowing money when you could be doing anything else but that. You’ve contemplated long and hard about this decision, and to be frank. You see no negatives to this option. Taking the way out seems like a way better alternative for you than continuing to waste the air around you with useless breaths.

The hooded figure that you sometimes see outside your window has started showing up less and less. You’ve made eye contact before, but before you can even mutter a word out the shadow has vanished. As if he never existed and is a figment of your imagination. You could’ve sworn that those were the eyes of Simon. His sharp brown eyes are unmistakable. You can recognize them from anywhere. But, he is dead. The possibility of it being him is simply impossible. You stare solemnly out the window. You want to see whether the shadow really is a figment of your imagination, or if it’s actually a person. But they never show up. If the shadow had shown up, would you have gone through with your plan? Probably not. As insane as it might sound, you feel a sort of pull for the shadow. As if it’s calling out for you.

When all you can see is the dark starry night. You sigh and shut the blinds. No one needs to see what you’re going to commit. You head upstairs to your once-shared bedroom. You walk absentmindedly to Simon’s bedside drawer. Revealing a small handgun. He always keeps weapons on him, or around him. To keep both you and him safe in case anyone ever dares to try anything in your own home. You pick up the piece of iron. Simon has taught you how to use it, in case there’s an emergency and he isn’t there to protect you. Back then it felt like a light piece of metal. Now, it sits heavy in the palm of your hand.

You slowly sit on the floor. Your back against the side of the bed. You expected to feel afraid. But to your surprise, you don’t feel anything at all. As if everything is numb. For that part you are a little thankful for, it’ll make this so much easier for you to do. You turn the gun in your hands. Inspecting your executioner. Minutes pass, and you’re still sitting idly on the floor. You’re waiting for the right moment. Deep down, you’re hoping that Simon will walk through the door. Wrap you up in his arms and tell you how everything is okay now. That it was simply a mission gone wrong, which made it so he couldn’t come home at the promised time frame. But as the silence of the house engulfs the house in an eerie peace. You close your eyes. This is the right moment. Simon won’t show, and he won’t show. You need to get that in your thick skull.

You look around your shared bedroom for the last time. Picture frames litter your dressers. His clothes are still hanging in his section of your closet. You put the gun away and back into his nightstand. You can’t do this, not here at least. Not at the serenity that belongs in your bedroom.

You scramble up from the floor. You pick up the crinkled piece of paper sitting on Simon’s desk. You go downstairs and pin it on the fridge with a magnet. Visible for anyone who comes looking for you. You rush outside, not bothering to bring a jacket with you. You’re not going to need it anyway. You run outside, not noticing the shadow blending in the night watching you. He wants to follow you, like he usually does, wanting to make sure you don’t do anything stupid or that you’ll regret. But this time, he can’t bring his feet to move. He simply watches you run off to whatever destination you have in mind.

You run off to the bridge you frequent with Simon. Not a lot of people go across it during the day. No one ever comes through at midnight. Giving you time alone to think and reminisce. You lean on the metal railing. Images of the various late-night dates Simon would take you on during his off days flash through your mind. You crack a small smile at that, embracing the pleasant memories once again. Your smile drops. Memories, that’s all they’ll ever be. You won’t be able to recreate them or make new ones anymore, not with Simon or anyone else. You brush away stray tears and let out a soft sniffle. You climb over the railing. You stand on the other side, peering down at the frigid cold water below. You look behind you, making sure no one is there. You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes, and let yourself slowly tip over the edge. One to two seconds feel like minutes. You feel the wind rushing past your face. Soon the cold water greets you. Despite the freezing temperature, it feels like a warm embrace. As if it’s welcoming you. You let yourself sink, letting more memories of you and Simon flash through your mind. Soon enough, everything goes black. You’ve lost this battle. Was it worth it? Some would say not, but to you? It was. You were miserable day after day. This was a peaceful alternative.

***

The shadow gets worried when hours pass by and you don’t return home yet. A bad feeling settles in the depths of his stomach. A nauseating feeling overwhelms him. He emerges from the shadows of the night. His mask was illuminated by the moonlight. He wants to know where you’ve gone. He shoves a flowerpot on your front porch aside with his foot, revealing a spare key. He grabs it and unlocks the door. It opens slowly. He steps inside, he takes off his worn boots. Not wanting to have anything traced back to him, anything that’ll show someone has been in the comfort of your own home. He looks around with confusion. He spots your phone and keys on the dining table. That’s weird. You never leave without those items, something Simon has drilled into your mind. He frowns behind his mask. He looks around everywhere. Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. He squints his eyes at the fridge. A note is pinned on the piece of metal. He takes big strides towards the fridge and reads the note. His heart sinks to his stomach. The urge to throw up is getting to him.

To anyone who finds this note. It’ll most likely be you, Price. I’m sorry. I know I’ve said that I’m fine, that I’m getting better. But I think you know this as well, that I’m not. If anything, I’m getting worse by the day. I’ll keep it short. I have nothing much to say anyway. Not that anyone would care. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll be long dead by the time you find this note. I don’t even know where I am. I might be in my bedroom, bathroom, in a ditch somewhere, or even floating in a river. On the bright side, I’m happy. Happier than ever. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I have Simon to keep me company.

I love you Simon, I’ll see you soon.

He rips the note off the fridge. He rereads it over and over. Hoping, no, praying that his eyes are deceiving him. That this is just some sick joke being played on him. You’ve done your fair share of pranks on him, but they’ve never been this extreme. He crumples up the note and shoves it in his pocket. He rips his mask off and throws it on the table near your phone and keys. He lets out a snarl. He slams his palms on the wooden table. “Fuck!” He exclaims. He pulls out his burner phone. He dials a number. They immediately pick up on the third ring. “Simon.” A low voice comes through. “Price.” He replies. He clearly doesn’t sound happy. He can’t let out tears, not now. He doesn’t deserve to. “Did you find something?” This sets something ablaze in Simon. He lets out a dry chuckle. “I’ve found something alright.” He sneers. He can’t help but convert the feeling of anguish to anger, and frustration. Anything but sadness. A low hum follows. “What did you find?” He takes a deep breath in. “I’ve found a suicide note in my own home.” He spits out. A painful silence ensues. “What?” He glares at the wall, lined with your pictures together. “You’ve fucking heard me. Want to explain that to me? You said she was doing fine!” A sorrowful sigh could be heard through the fun. “That’s what she said. I-” Simon interrupts him. “And you believed her?! How didn’t you see what was going on?! I told you, I fucking told you to keep an eye on her while I am gone!” He snaps. Something he probably shouldn’t do to Price, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. Another sigh could be heard. “Simon, listen. The mission-” He scoffs. “I don’t give a damn about the mission right now. My girl is dead for fucks sake!” He shouts. He continues. “I wasn’t happy with this mission. I already told you, I’d only agree to do this if you keep a close eye on her. I trusted you, Price. Now look at what happens. I faked my death, and now she’s dead!” He takes another deep breath to calm himself. “After this mission, I’m done. I’m pulling out. It’s about time I retire from this shithole anyway.” He sneers and hangs up. He throws the phone down on the table as well. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

He takes a seat at the table. He runs his hands down his face. A million thoughts run through his head. How did it end up like this? Multiple what-ifs pop up in his mind. What if he showed himself to you on the first day he came back to see you, would you still be alive? He lets out a low growl and slams his fist down on the table. Silent tears stream down his face. How does he always fuck up whatever good comes in his life? At this point, he’s just cursed. He can’t have happiness without something ruining it.

After he collects himself he gets up, but he still has work to do. And as much as he wants to drown himself in guilt and self-hatred. He understands that he still needs to finish his mission. He narrows his eyes as he walks out of your house. The people at the other end of his wrath need to watch their backs. Simon will make anything and anyone suffer, to make them feel the same pain he’s feeling. Deep down, he knows nothing will compare to it.

***

A fucked mission later, a hell of debriefing, he comes back home as a retired soldier. A home that has turned into a cold, haunting, and uninviting. Everything that made this house a home was you, you were his home. You aren’t here anymore. And it’s all his fault. If only he went against orders, let you know what was happening. You would still be here. If only he came to check on you more often, he could’ve seen the signs and stopped you. If only he could’ve shown any sign he’s still alive, you would probably still be here. Alive, breathing, at home, doing whatever you love to keep yourself busy while he’s gone. But no. He fucked up, and he’s paying the price for it.

For days on end, he will feel the remorse, the regret, the guilt. He would fall into the same rabbit hole you dug. Instead of you going down it. You’re already rock bottom, he’s simply joining you. He spends his time drinking. That’s what he knows helps best in this situation. Whenever he’s not drinking he’s spending time in his home gym.

A thought crosses his mind. The same one that has yours at one point. He lays in bed, your pillow still has your smell and it haunts him. He reaches over to his nightstand and opens his drawer. What he sees breaks his heart all over again. His gun. It has been moved. He’s certain this wasn’t how he left his gun before he left. He always made sure that the grip was facing him so he could grab it quickly in a time of emergency. It isn’t lying in that position anymore. He sits up with the gun in his hand. He plays around with the piece of iron in his hand. Unloads and loads the bullets over and over. Pushing the safety back and forth. Anything to distract him from the void he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach. Your note that you’ve left on the fridge rests on his nightstand. You said you were going to be okay. That you’ll have Simon to keep you company. Well, he isn’t fucking there, is he? He wants to join you so desperately. But he’s afraid, not of death. But even if there is an afterlife, would you accept him? He lied to you. A lie that cost you your life. He doesn’t know if he could endure that on top of the grief he’s feeling. But even seeing you one last time would be better than this.

So he sits there, in the darkness of your shared bedroom. Contemplating if he should join you. Something you were doing a few nights prior. If only he didn't accept the damn mission. He wouldn’t be drowning in his grief and self-hatred if he let the mission go. You would be here, in his arms. And that thought would forever haunt him until he does opt for the other route.

I’m sorry lovie, for everything.

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

there are so many things that i could analyze just from this scene alone in episode 5

first of all, i love the fact that joel helped ellie with burying sam and henry. he never would have done that if it was just him. we all know he has never been someone, at least after sarah died, to mull over the death of those he cares for. we don’t know for sure, but i imagine he maybe buried sarah and that’s it. ever since then he has become so hardened and emotionally closed off that he really doesn’t grieve how he should. he keeps his emotions to himself and represses them. so this was definitely for ellie.

although i do think that burying them was good for him either way. he actually started forming a good connection with henry and he knew sam was already good friends with ellie. he even invited them to tag along on their journey. burying them at least gave him one outlet for that grief that all his other loses dont have.

but aside from the burying, a few things are going on…

throughout this entire final scene, joel is watching ellie. and anytime we see his face, its very contemplative. he’s seeing first hand how ellie deals with grief and he’s realizing two things:

1. ellie is holding a lot of pressure and self-loathing about being immune

2. ellie is becoming a mini-joel

this is joel’s expression after he reads the “im sorry” message that ellie left on sam’s writing board.

i think at first he questions why she is sorry but soon comes to realize her guilt over sam and henry’s death. her immunity couldn’t save them. even though he doesn’t figure out that ellie tried to use her blood to save sam until the next episode, he’s seen enough until now to put it together.

but this is how ellie handles the situation after taking her moment at their graves…

she immediately turns it off. she changes the subject and walks away from the graves without looking back. when joel is stuck in contemplation after seeing her message, she calls after him and tells him “let’s go”. joel is realizing that she is turning out like him. she’s, in a way, repressing her emotions. only allowing a moment’s grief (like joel’s rock tower homage to tess) and then moving on.

he’s beginning to see the toll that this entire apocalypse and her immunity takes on her. just how much she has on her shoulders…

and he hates it. he hates to see someone so young, someone who reminds him of his daughter literally have the weight of the world on her shoulders. this is another check in the box of a list of ways he has failed her.

he cares for her and continually grows in his care for her as time goes on. they’re both learning more about each other…

the good and the bad.

[joesalw]

putting this here bc this blog feels like a safe space as a someone whos always been very critical of taylor despire also loving her art… plus im far too afraid to put this on main so :/

i remember back in 2023 when the whole matty ratty thing was going on, and as a jewish fan i felt completely disgusted she would even allow someone so gross and bigoted into her life. i was part of the #speakupnow campaign with other fans, i felt so desperate to make it all end and for her to condemn that man… but she didn’t. she only distanced herself. i was at least partially satisfied she stopped associating with him, and i still considered myself a fan for that reason, but the pain i felt of betrayal to her most marginalised fans never really went fully away no matter how much i tried to stuff it down.

flash forward to now. i was ready for this album, excited even to get new music, only to receive a disjointed wreck of an album that was largely defending a relationship with a neonazi freak. i feel stunned and angry. i was already growing a dislike towards her because of the whole billionaire/ecoterrorist/politically silent thing but i told myself i can still like the music and be critical or her actions at the same time. now i’m not so sure i feel that way anymore. i feel ashamed and stupid and lied to. i spent so much time and money on her only for her to continue to lowkey simp for a racist misogynistic weirdo on top of all the other shit??? idk.

i feel like i’m looking for validation from others my anger and hurt is justified, that its okay to change my mind about taylor swift, that i can still acknowledge the positive impact her art had on me and not want to support the current path shes on right now because it is hurting people and i can’t stand by and watch any longer or else i’m complicit, that i can grieve the trust i put in her to be a better person that she’s been acting like in the past year or so. i hope this ask is of no bother to you, i just saw your ex swifties tag and felt like maybe this would be a good time to speak my truth.

Your anger and hurt is completely justified, the main purpose of my ex swiftie tag is for this discussion. We are all feeling the same resentment towards her. And it's valid because we wasted so much time loving her and defending her and now it's like she's completely a different unrecognizable person, a person that's doing everything against the things she once she stood for. You may call this being parasocial but she's to be blamed for that for deliberately creating this parasocial relationship with her fans. Like dropping easter eggs, secret sessions, clues about exes, sharing diary pages etc etc as a marketing scheme to profit her branding.

[ghostwise]

ZevWarden Week 2023 - Day 2, Secrets Kept and Told

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Death From Head to Foot :: 721 words tags: guilt, ptsd, canon-typical violence, zevran arainai/male mahariel

It was bound to happen eventually.

Zevran does not know the man, but the man knows him, and that is his own error. An Antivan Crow never blows his cover. A Crow should strike from the shadows, vanishing after a swift and lethal blow with none the wiser. No witnesses. But here he is, and here the grieving stranger, bent on his destruction.

Had he not come to this city, Zevran would have never known that this particular iteration of Vengeance stalked the world, with his name upon its lips.

Worse still, Hamal meets his would be assailant first.

Damn it all.

"Do you regret his death?" Hamal asks him, days after the fact.

An easy question. Zevran is alive and his attacker is dead. The Warden is safe and unharmed. All should be well. And yet…

Zevran gives a terse shake of his head. "It was him or me. And you were quicker in dispatching him than I would have been."

Hamal observes him for a moment. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't immediately reply.

It's true that the incident bothers him still. It does him no good to brood over it, however; he should have put it from his mind straight away. Such childish moping helps no one. Now Hamal is concerned, and Zevran knows better than to try to insist everything's fine.

Experience has taught both of them how to navigate these fraught moments of conversation. So he gives.

"It was his right," he says sharply. "I killed someone dear to him. He reacted accordingly."

"As did I," Hamal returns, carefully.

"I know that," Zevran says. "Thank you, by the way."

Hamal's brow furrows. "Creators, now I am worried. Zevran, what's the matter?"

"It is going to happen again."

In the resulting silence, Zevran lets out a sigh, and explains.

"In all of our travels together," Zevran gestures in a wide arc at their surroundings, "How many times do you think we have passed through a city or town where I have killed someone? In truth, it happens more often than I care to comment on."

Hamal hesitates before answering. "This troubles you."

"No, in fact," Zevran replies. "What troubles me is that you cannot understand how much I am guilty of. Not because I would ever keep it from you—but because if I listed off my every sin we would never have time to discuss anything else! And then things like this happen without warning, and it—damn it all. How can I expect you to answer for so much?"

Perhaps it is a testament to how long they have been together, that Zevran no longer glosses over his emotions, his anger, his sadness. He doesn't need to. Not with him.

Hamal looks away for a moment. Through the muddle, it clicks.

"You wanted to kill him yourself," he says gently.

"I was the target. I should have handled it."

"How is this different from any other time you have killed to protect me? Or I you, for that matter?"

The question knocks a bitter laugh out of Zevran. He looks away. Worse still, he realizes that Hamal is right; this was different. And now Zevran can only remember every stupid, cruel decision he made when he was an angry and lost young man.

It had not been a contracted killing.

It had been a simple murder. A common fight gone wrong, bravado and his cunning Taliesen egging him on. A version of himself Zevran cannot think about without his stomach turning. No wonder the man had been so bent on killing him. No wonder.

"Shit," Hamal murmurs, and sets a warm hand on his shoulder. "Zev, you do not need to talk about it if you do not want to. I don't mean to pry. Just tell me what I can do to help you right now."

In an instant, the feeling swells and fades. Zevran shuts his eyes. His shoulders slump minutely; he is grateful for the escape.

"Just… forget I said anything," he says. "Please, amor, forgive my bad mood. I will be fine. Really."

And I will tell you later, he thinks, as Hamal gives him a reassuring squeeze, what a horror it is you have married; and you will love me all the same, I know; and I you, more and more all the time…

[blackkatmagic]

Hey, blackkat!

I've been reading your star wars fanfictions for a while now and I'm seriously intrigued by all of them. My favorite is running with lightning feet and I'm currently reading efface the footprints in the sands--poor Master Kolar...

Anyway, I really wonder how you approach writing. You seem to be able to write very consistently and keep track of many stories all at once, which are things I admire very much about you. Would you be able to give some advice on that?

Also, I very much love your characterization of more 'minor' (less appearance in canon) characters and how you breathe life into them with your dialogue. Really make me wonder how you make that out--what do you consider, or do the characterization/dialogue just pop up, fleshing themselves out?

Yeah, I really hope you don't mind me asking these. Again, love your writing very much. Would continue to read your stories always~~ Thank you for sharing them (and putting all your effort into writing them!)

Hi! I definitely don't mind, and I've answered similar questions before in my writing advice tag, if you want to scroll through some other answers that might be worded better.

For how I approach writing...the inconvenient answer is that it's mostly practice. I've been giving myself a goal of 500 words every day for the last....10-ish years, probably? Just consistently sitting down and doing a thing, writing without worrying about quality and only quantity, with lots of WIPs always going at the same time, really helps in figuring out how to juggle them. I usually keep a file of vague notes, one doc for each WIP with a bunch of keywords and ideas I want to hit eventually, and plot twists I'm aiming for, though I don't ever really outline things, and that helps a lot with keeping track, too.

As far as characterization of minor characters goes, that's the part I enjoy most about writing, and it's one of the easier parts for me, so I'm not sure I'm the best at putting it into words. But basically, you have to get to the very core of how you see the character - what their baseline personality is, what motivates them, what their goals are. It's something that can change between fics (which I think is one of the joys of minor characters; you don't have to stick to one defined interpretation), but it is something you have to nail down, imo. It also takes some filling in the gaps with headcanon and some leaps in logic.

Take Agen for example: canon gives us the information that he lost his padawan on Geonosis, incorporated Tan's lightsaber crystal into his own, and is an incredible swordsman but too blunt and aggressive to be diplomatic, while still being very loyal to the Council/Order. He gets called "the Council's attack dog" in the comics. Also, in the wider universe, we know that Zabraks have a reputation for being aggressive/warlike, and at one point Qui-Gon calls Maul it, even though he has to know what Zabraks are.

Those are all the canon facts. If you go back and fill in the gaps: Agen is someone who's grieving deeply, and he's incredibly devoted. He uses Tan's lightsaber crystal against Palpatine, which means he's sentimental, and he's not willing to speak against the Order in public, so he's at least that tactful. At the same time, he has no patience for people who get in his way, and he's willing to use force to cut through them. He believes in other Jedi until they irrevocably prove themselves traitors, and then he's stern and willing to remove them by whatever means. At the same time, he's very aware of his reputation, and he knows what people say about him/other Zabraks, but he's stubborn enough (at peace with himself enough) that he's not going to change.

From that sort of character summary, you can figure out the way Agen talks pretty easily. He's blunt, and he doesn't always think about the impact of his words, but he can be compassionate and thoughtful, particularly given his own grief. He's willing to defend anyone, and he doesn't make a fuss but always tends towards action - that means short sentences, usually directly to the point with no niceties. He's polite, because that's usually the fastest way to achieve something, but he's not overly deferential. He has a sense of humor, but most people miss it because he's so blunt.

Taking a character and dissecting them like that is something I have a lot of fun doing, which, well. I'm a therapist irl, so that probably helps. But I think it's very much just about breaking a character down into component parts and applying them to whatever you're writing - if you understand why someone reacts a certain way, it's a thousand times easier to figure out how they're going to react in a new situation. And after that, getting them to sound right, getting your dialogue to fit - it's all about practice.

[swaps55]

I was asked for the “director’s cut” dissertation I have on this snippet, and I am easily enabled. So here we go. This is wildly self-indulgent writing thinky thoughts, so putting most of it under a cut. Spoilers for ME3-era Opus thoughts, but if you read the snippet you’ve already got some spoilers, and given I haven’t even started posting Mezzo yet, I challenge anyone to remember any of this by the time I get to it anyway. XD

Tagging @fyeahmshepkaidan @scribblesandknots and @flightofthefaeriedragon , who specifically asked for this and are about to have Regrets, sorry (not sorry).

Fugue completely rewired my way of thinking about Sam and Kaidan’s reconciliation in ME3. The game, by necessity, makes resuming the romance Shepard’s call – Kaidan says he is willing, and Shepard can choose whether or not to accept.

But grief changes people. And Sam and Kaidan have a long history and soulmate level connection to each other at the time of Alchera. Can you even imagine going through losing someone like that, clawing your way back to your life for two years, transforming yourself into something new against your will because grief didn’t give you a choice, only to have the person you’ve been grieving walk back into your life with open arms, because for him, none of it happened?

At first you might think the gut reaction is, “oh thank god.” They’re back! Everything can be okay again! But I don’t think so. You spent all that time fighting a war that…in the end didn’t need to be fought. You are bruised and bloody, bent into a new shape for better or for worse, and it turns out you didn’t have to do any of it.

You did it all for nothing. For nothing.

Where do you put that frustration? That anger? It wasn’t Sam’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. But that anger has to go somewhere. Walking back into that relationship with open arms isn’t possible. You’ve changed too much. To make it more complicated, nothing has changed about who Sam is or what he does. The stakes are even higher now, and the odds of him getting out of it alive are so slim.  

Going back to him means setting yourself up to lose him again, only now you know what that feels like.

All this to say because Kaidan hurt so much for so long, when he finally gets there and gives in to the inevitable, he needs a moment of catharsis. A big one. He’s earned it.

But this is a surprisingly difficult thing to achieve, because ME3 is all about the weight on Shepard’s shoulders. The fate of the galaxy rests on him. There is no room to be the strong one, to be the comfort Kaidan needs, because he needs the same thing.

One of the really difficult parts of a relationship is handling the times when you are both on the downswing. It’s one thing when one person is hurting and the other is comforting, but when you’re both down the hole, there is no one to throw the rope and help you out. You now have to work together to do it, when neither of you are in a place to be the person your partner needs. That’s hard. It’s hard in real life, and complex to navigate in fiction.

This made it really difficult to come up with a way for the two of them to reconcile that respected their emotional needs. Fugue biased me so much towards Kaidan that I kept envisioning that reconciliation being centered on Sam comforting Kaidan in ways that weren’t addressing how broken and fragile Sam is in those moments.

But whatever the solution was, that catharsis for Kaidan was non-negotiable. He needed it, and I needed it for writing Fugue in the first place, lol.

One of the repeating narrative threads throughout Fugue was Kaidan dreaming about Sam being alive, only to wake up to the absence of him in the form of a still gravity well and a neatly made bed, two things that are impossible to have when sharing a bed with that man. So I have always, always, envisioned that moment where Kaidan wakes up for the first time and the dream…doesn’t end. Sam is there. The bedding is a mess. The gravity well is doing somersaults again. And then he rolls over, trying to figure out if he’s going insane or not, and gets hit with the first “Hey, you,” since Sam died.

But in all my daydreaming, that’s where the scene ended. ‘Hey, you,’ was such a significant moment in Sonata, that I was really enamored with the notion that ending on the ‘hey, you,’ would be a full-circle mic drop on the reader, and the narrative signal that everything was going to be okay. The problem with this is that it leaves Kaidan’s reaction to it up to the reader, and that’s ultimately unfair to Kaidan. He needs his moment of catharsis, and it needs to be in present action.

So in this snippet, I let the scene continue, because once I had the nature of their reconciliation figured out, this became the right moment for Kaidan to get that catharsis. The reconciliation will be driven by Sam’s vulnerability because it more or less has to be, and it forces Kaidan to play the part of the strong one when he isn’t. So when Kaidan gets that reality check – waking up and realizing the dream didn’t end – he gets to be the one who falls apart, and Sam, who got the emotional strength he needed the night before, is in a position to give Kaidan what he needs. It’s closure to the events of Fugue. The emotional breakdown calls back to the panic attack in Sonata when Sam was there, and the one in Fugue where he wasn’t. And letting it happen AFTER the reconciliation itself allows Kaidan to get what he needs while still being true to himself: He has always been Shepard’s guardian, the person who protects Shepard so he can protect everyone else, and he still got to do that when Sam needed it most.

Also, Sam gets to call him baby, something that he will deny if you ask him about it, and he will believe himself.

It was the, “Oh, baby. I have you. I’m here,” that drove me to actually write the scene. It popped into my head out of nowhere from someone whose only term of endearment is “Hey, you” and felt like the kind of out-of-character but perfectly in-character thing that only gets to happen once, so it happens when it counts.     

[mrsmess]

falafel

the way you were just there at that hole in the wall when you shouldn’t even have been there at all and neither should I, but there I was just because my kid got out early and it was a toss between going home or staying in town we rarely get out, we should hang around let’s go get a falafel it’s the only city in the country where you can get a decent one for reasonable money it’s easily done so we gotta get a falafel and sit outside in the setting sun it’s not a big city on a international scale and I’m bad at math it's the one class I failed but there are three hundred thousand people living here and that’s a lot or at least enough so the chance of running into someone you know is not that high or even there but you were there and so was I I was stunned even when you said my name before you told me chance is why you came

a motorcycle thundered by you said I hate that and I said why are you sitting by a heavily trafficked street in a city where you don’t even stay and told my kid of the place where you live it’s real pretty but real far away I went to visit you there when I was nineteen and in a relationship with a boy who was mean and who tagged along and sulked the whole time but your wife was really kind to me and you don’t appreciate that when you’re young and blind you spoke to my kid in that way of yours you’re really good with them which is of course obvious that you’d be when you work as much as you do with them we ate our falafel, spilled food everywhere and loud, obnoxious music filled up the air you told my kid about your girls who where in a big contest the other year my kid said I don’t remember them I always root for the old, bald men I smiled and told you you should enter the contest then but you already did back when I was a kid and you sang that cheesy song with your awful ex wife you were on television but out of my life

next thing I know we’re in your car, you say you have to drive me home and I let you because that’s what we are to each other even if it’s been years since I met you you say you’ve thought about me and I say I think about you all the time too but leave out all my mixed feelings because we’re in a car and driving fast and I already know the moment won’t last we won’t have time enough to discuss the important stuff when are we supposed to? you ask about mom and I say she’s good even if she’s waiting for surgery for some reason at sixty miles per hour I commit perjury I remember when you left and how she cried even if she said she didn’t love you right I talk about my dad, and you say who is your dad again? it’s a joke because my dad is no more a father to me than other men my grandpa for example tried to fill his shoes and you at one point though that was a game you could only lose but you don’t mention yourself in this equation even if you were part of the situation and maybe neither of you were to blame but in this one crucial way you’re all the same Grandpa was too old, you were too young and my daddy was simply too far gone all of you went away for too long

my kid talks in the backseat and I try to divide my attention and give you direction at one point you almost miss an exit and say something sarcastic about my instruction in an infuriatingly ironic tone of voice when neither then nor now gave me a choice I did not ask to be put in this seat and for a beat I’m convinced that you have some feelings to work through regarding me and my mom, some residue and also that I would be willing to do that with you if you would only ask me to but you won’t and I don’t expect you to come in when we’re parked and I invite you to come through as expected you say no and that it’s time to go and maybe you don’t care or you do but don’t think it’s fair to share because to you I’m still four and either way you stack the years you’ll always have seventeen more when we met we were really just two kids at different ages now we’re adults at different grieving stages

I get out of the car, say thanks for the ride and give my love to your spouse and I take my kid’s hand and head for our house I want to say I love you and hate you and why did you abandon me? instead I swallow the sting and cling to common sense laugh about the crazy coincidence like that and destiny isn’t the same thing

[angelshizuka]

I’ve made a lot of posts about Miraculous this month, especially the past week, but now I’m gonna get a bit more personal.

As someone with a dead mother and a grieving father, Adrien’s character means so much more to me than he ever did before (I’ve been into Miraculous since 2015 and my mother died in 2021).

It’s mainly the tag “#well articulated“ someone left on one of my posts that got me thinking about this again. Because one of the last things my mother told me before she died is that she loves how well I can articulate my thoughts (we talked a lot during her final months)

It’s something I put a lot of effort into when I make all these posts. Being able to put my thoughts into words helps me clear my mind and make sense of whatever tf’s going on up there. You guys have no idea how often I rewrite sentences or even entire paragraphs before I feel satisfied with what I said.

Especially now making posts like this revolving around a movie with grief as a side-plot, there are so many scenes that mean so much to me and really elevate Adrien’s arc about grief.

That scene with Adrien visiting his mother’s abandoned theater and seeing a vision of her before reality hits him, and grief being harder on the deceased’s birthday. That cute moment in the montage of Adrien opening up to Marinette about his mother (god I wish we could’ve gotten a full scene). Ladybug being the first and only he’s ever brought to his mother’s theater before admitting how much she’s (unintentionally) helped him with breaking out of his isolation caused by grief.

And then that scene with his father in the climax, my mother’s loss is definitely one of the reasons that hit me so hard (even if i didn’t realize it at first). Me and my father have never been physically close, but the first thing he did when my mother died was hug me (and my sister). I could literally feel how Adrien felt in that moment.

Anyway... this post is a bit different from the others I’ve made, but it’s something I had to get out and thank you to anyone who read it.

[jolalibrary]

Gimme all the lore for your Peña OC!!

so, because you know more about the season three peña character. so spoilers below if you’ve not seen season three of narcos.

when we meet her, she’s on desk duty only for reasons undisclosed. she’s unafraid to hold her own, but she’s limited and knows the best way to close the loop is to support javi in his position. she’s grieving, for reasons we later discover, and it was the final nail in the coffin of her previous relationship — one she is very much over, but has to face daily. so, she’s closed off emotionally, but like season one and two javi, is in need of stress relief.

however, she had to be choosy, because it’s different for women, and she knows his reputation so while she puts up a front about it, javi seems like a logical choice. which is how they first begin off. if he’s uses her for stress relief, he can do what he needs to do better to end this; if she’s uses him, she can stop thinking for a minute and just be.

their working/fwb relationship naturally begins to get messy as they rely on one another and there’s clear feelings there. i wanted to create someone he genuinely finds himself drawn to, rather than just sexually but emotionally. especially with his frame of mind in season three and how broken the system is. so it’s an interesting dynamic to play out as most of my characters are with the closed off one, where as she’s the closed off one.

she also knows a lot about him, even the things he wishes she didn’t. but he knows little about her so when that gets unveiled to him (and to you, as the readers) you can kind of see how similar their situations are in a way.

the main thing was i really wanted to write an extra fibre for javi because there’s a noticeable change from season two to three in how he operates, how he has to behave, what he thinks of himself. so having someone who will push him, who won’t tell him what he wants to hear i thought was missing, and thus, she was born. at the moment, she’s called moonie (could change) because she is a workaholic, and the others comment she doesn’t leave until the moon is up.

also tagging @yeyinde because she’s heard bits and bobs about this, and i think would love this too.

[bugbyte]

1062 Days

I had a pretty terrible doctor’s appointment yesterday and have been kind of cycling through a million feelings about it like some kind of unhinged unicycle. (No, I cannot ride a unicycle.) Anyway, if you missed yesterday’s panic posting, the pain people kind of went “oh well” and shoved me off to the MMJ people, which is fine, except costly and not covered by insurance and I am broke. I did receive a Ko-Fi donation that should theoretically cover a chunk of whatever the appointment costs and the amount of relief I am feeling right now is enormous, so thank you, anon donor. One way or another I’m going to figure this out, which is far more hope than I had when I started today. I woke up, wide awake, at 6 am this morning, having a panic attack because I felt like I’d just been condemned to a life of never being able to do or experience anything ever again, but now I feel like there’s a chance.

We’ve been driving back and forth to a city about an hour away to deal with all of this stuff because there seem to be a lot more specialists there (it’s through a university hospital, which has been a really good experience primarily, except for the pain people? wtf) and an hour isn’t that bad in the scheme of things. Anyway, it gives me way too much time to think, and after yesterday I started counting days since all of this started going downhill for me (thank you Siri for doing the math) and yesterday it was 1061 days. Today it’s 1062. I’m just flabbergasted that it’s been that many days and I’m just supposed to go home and make dinner and pretend everything is fine. This is how my brain works: I want to put data to things, I want to turn that into a visualization because I feel like no one ever understands the words coming out of my mouth. I’m thinking about making some kind of animated visualization of how much time that is, how much loss it is over time, because that’s how I process I guess. Or maybe some kind of video essay about it. I don’t think people who aren’t directly experiencing (or living with/caring for/close friends with) chronic pain really understand what a grieving process it is. I feel like I have no sense of time anymore, because all the days are pain.

Anyway.

Doing a read more here for some slightly unpleasant-er medical stuff, so please check the tags if you think it may bother you to read.

This week is a gauntlet of multiple things because it’s just how it fell. If you are lucky enough (and I hope you are) that you aren’t dealing with medical stuff on a regular basis, you might not know how overtaxed everyone is now and how ridiculously hard it is to get an appointment anywhere, for anything. A while ago we made a rule around here to not schedule back to back appointment days because it’s really physically demanding for me, but when you have no choice but to schedule things months out…sometimes you don’t get a choice, and it’s awful. I’m paying for it today after two days of this, in stress and physical testing and sitting in a car for long stretches. Anyway, that sucks.

But at least today was a much more positive experience than yesterday, in a number of ways. Somehow in this entire year of tests and visits and drugs and whatever, this is somehow the very first time I’m actually seeing a neurologist, which was pretty interesting and revealing. In this whole time no one has noticed how flimsy my ankles are, and somehow I never think to talk about it because I just basically walk on eggshells all the time trying not to injure myself by…walking. But today it got noticed, and maybe that’s something I can press someone to do something about. Before my health turned into a flaming car wreck I used to run marathons and I do not know how I did this. I feel like I got away with something I shouldn’t have.

So one of the most interesting bits of today, which relates to some past stuff I’ve written about and haven’t talked about more because it’s all kinda in flux still, is even more genetic testing. The first one was a whole panel looking for connective tissue disorders (spoiler alert: they found something weird, it’s just not what anyone expected, and I get to talk to somebody and find out more next year lol) and now we’re checking out a different but more specific gene for a type of muscular dystrophy, which might also explain some of the issues I have. Essentially: I’m a huge mess and my body is crumbling and it would probably be prudent to start weeding out which problems are caused by which weirdness. Exciting! I got to talk it out with a genetic counselor (again) and a student, which was cool, because I like being able to contribute some of my weird physiology to their knowledge so hopefully they can help somebody else like me in the future. I got to opt-in to putting my genes up for (anonymized) research, which I was also pretty excited about because I’ve got the weird in me and hopefully it can help somebody. I like chatting with folks like this, I am enthusiastic about research and improving treatments and it’s nice to feel like I’m contributing something from this whole mess. Genetics as a whole is really interesting to me, I’ve been reading a ton on it since my first outing getting tested and there’s so much possibility for improving peoples’ lives if we just knew a little bit more. In another life, where I’m not squeamish about blood and am good at math, I like to think I’d have gotten into genetics. I have feelings about it.

The cool part of this is they were able to do the testing right on the spot this time. I still have to wait a while on results, but I didn’t have to go through any approvals or waiting for test kits or anything. No, instead I just got stabbed several times for blood. I used to be petrified of needles and I still feel pretty bleh about it but I guess that’s the equivalent of exposure therapy or something. The poor nurse today was not a good needler but she was really nice and tried really hard so I can’t be upset about it. I did get stuck in the dang hand, though, which is my absolute least favorite place to get stabbed. Ugh. Weirdly, my opposite hand is also aching like ME TOO and I’m like NO, NOT “YOU TOO�� but here we are. At the beginning of the year I started keeping a needle count for myself because somehow it helps mentally to know how many times I’ve done this, and so as of today it’s 22 for the year but it’s probably going to be more before 2024. Getting over it has made me start thinking about getting a tattoo someday, though. I know it’s a different process and sensation probably, but it was always the stabby bit that put me off in the past. I want to get my cat’s paw prints done on my leg, in the spot where he used to put his feet when he sat with me while I was having a bad pain day. One day I’ll get there.

Anyway, I feel like I learned a lot today and got to sign off on contributing a little of myself to science, which is a good feeling. And it was really nice to deal with people who were actually compassionate as well as excited about their work. Makes up a little bit for the bad day I had yesterday.

Gauntlet week continues. Hope you’re all well out there. Working on being a little more well in here, too.

[weirdfishy]

20 Qs for Fic Writers

thanks to @mashumaru for tagging me!! <3 i love these, and i've finally got a minute to do it!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

45! i started writing in the end of 2020, it's kina mind boggling to think that it'll have been three years in a couple months

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

76,628 :)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've currently written for Batman, Danny Phantom, BBC's Merlin & Sherlock, Spider-Man/Verse, The Sandman, Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Heartstopper, Sk8 the Infinity, The Witcher, and BNHA.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Unknown Caller ID - danny phantom x batman, crack treated seriously, something i will eventually continue

Tim Drake's intoduction to ✨Ghosts✨ - dpxdc, silly goofy stuff

by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache - the sandman, dreamling get-together, my first multi-chap that i finished

just slip me on, i'll be your blanket - the sandman, dreamling angst, something that i've so far put a completed, but in my heart of hearts ik it needs more

crack, hob flirts back, heart attack - the sandman, crack, past hobrinthian, pre-dreamling, pov corinthian

5. Do you respond to comments?

i very much try to, yes, but i also tend to leave comments un responded to for fics i have yet to continue/finish

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

what's interesting abt the two fics i think have the angstiest endings, is they kina have the same tone? like, i wrote two fics abt two different characters having a 'life is absolutely terrible rn, i'm grieving the loss of better times, but no matter what i will keep fucking living god damn it'

anyway it's both to be forgotten but not forget (mcu peter parker) and never to sleep, never to die (hob gadling)

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

[love how i totally forgot to answer this at first; sorry if tumblr tags u again for my editing]

imma go with something recent, a geraskier blurb based on art, :3 (that's the title, i couldn't come up with anything clever, so it's just that lol)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not directly

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

currently? no. have i? yeah. respect your local smut writers

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

i never wrote crossovers prior to getting pulled into danny phantom x dc, and both of my posted ones are among my most popular

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of (if someone does steal a fic- that's shitty.)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not in the sense that someone has asked me to translate and repost, so as far as i know, no

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

no, but snake n i have talked about co-writing before (we're busy as shit tho so it's yet to happen)

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

merwaine in any form

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

it's not a WIP, but the second fic i ever posted i said i would rewrite and it's yet to come- i don't doubt that i will rewrite it, but that eventually is pretty far

16. What are your writing strengths?

prose-y scene setting maybe? i don't think about this, really, i just write

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

dialogue, in the sense that it doesn't much feature in my fics

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

personally i'll only do it if i'm 200% confident in its meaning (ie i've studied the language or i've got a second reliable opinion)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i've since lost it, but the first thing i wrote was for BTS (2018 almost-disbandment rlly had me emotional, ok?)

20. Favourite fic you've written?

i don't have a favorite, and i'm proud of every new thing bc it's a show of my progress

~

no pressure tags: @oliveofvanders @bootleg-exe & anyone else who would like to :)

[pulchrasilva]

1, 2, 5, 6, and 50! Feel free to answer any or all of them!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Probably i know a place where the pain doesn't reach. I think it's the fic that best captured the exact Essence™️ of what I was going for and a lot of my best fics feature a similar kind of soft reconciliation hurt/comfort i think

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

In order: Angst, Fluff, Polyamory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Compliant

Yep that's extremely accurate. I feel a little called out actually lol. Just realising that all the fics I've written featuring a romantic relationship have been polyships wow

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

I think about this is where i leave you, I'd like someone to ask what actually happened to Romulus after his split himself. It's something that Janus wonders about in the first chapter. I'd like to think that his consciousness still exists somewhere in Thomas's mind, he just doesn't have the role of creativity anymore. He's like a kind of ghost, he has no body, floating around and watching over Janus and the twins. Grieving when they fight, grieving when Janus grieves him. He'd be really happy that Janus managed to make up with the twins I think.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Something Irrevocable never actually says what happened to Rowan (an oc)'s baby cousin. I mentioned that he made a lopsided little teddy bear for his cousin and then after the apocalypse happened we see a purple teddy bear on the side of the road and it's missing an arm. Tbh i don't really have an answer to this but I made myself so sad with that detail so I wanted to do something with it. He's definitely not dead, that would make me too sad. I have an idea for a hypothetical spin-off about Carlton Drake (who was the main villain in the movie but basically irrelevant and kinda pathetic in the fic) which was gonna use his affection for kids as a somewhat-redeeming quality, and I was gonna put Rowan's cousin in there.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Gonna choose 49: What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

You mayy or may not have heard a little about this fic, but I'm currently working on a fic for roleslaying week with the working title "flaredrum mft ftm solidarity fic". It's from Djembe's pov but it's about Youngblood's time at the Bard College pre-canon, her relationship with Noise and her gender. I wouldn't say it explores Djembe, but it does also explore who I like to imagine Djembe is (tbf we don't know much about him yet!) Oh and it's also about how the Bard College is a fucked up toxic environment in sooo many ways.

Here's an extract from the most recent scene I wrote:

You know," Viola said after a few minutes of silence, pointing a chip in his direction. "Sharpe's not wrong." "About what?" "Connections are just another thing to manipulate. People don't really have friends here." Djembe laughed. "So what are you and I then? "Are you kidding?" Viola said, not a trace of a smile on her face. "You're top of the class, all the teachers love you." His smile dropped. "So?" She shrugged. "I need to keep my grades up if I want to become a captain." Djembe felt something shatter.

Made myself real sad with this whole scene tbh

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Letting Go

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Nobody prepares you for losing the love of your life.

Warnings: mention of blood and death

I finally completed season 15 after nearly two years of putting it off. I cried my eyes out those last couple episodes for sure. Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future Supernatural fics!

MASTERLIST

---

“Promise me something darlin’, promise me that you’re going to find someone else. I don’t want you to be missing me too much when I’m gone and I know that you wouldn’t consider it but, fall in love with someone else, someone who isn’t going to screw things up the way that I did many times. I love you Y/N, forever and always.”

Fresh tears streamed down the woman’s face, her body shaking from the sobs that wrecked her from deep within. In such a short time she’s lost so many people that she grew to love and consider family; Castiel, Jack and her boyfriend, Dean being the top three that really meant the world to her.

It’s been a little over a week since Dean died and for the first two nights she couldn’t bare to sleep in the room they shared but on the third day, Y/N had found herself pulling on his burgundy shirt, inhaling his musky scent that lingered on the fabric as she laid on his side of the bed. Most days Y/N spent all her time curled up into a tight ball in bed, crying her eyes out into his pillow as she desperately clung to it.

Dean’s death affected his baby brother and lady so much so that it was physically challenging for either of them to get anything done around the bunker. The only reason either of them surfaced for the day is to take the dog out to do his business and on a short walk.

“Now that we have the freedom to do whatever we want, why don’t we start our own family? It’d be nice to have one or two tiny Winchesters running through these halls.”

Y/N buried her puffy face deeper into the soaked pillow as she kept replaying some of the moments spent with her lover. Dean had mentioned that he wanted everything with Chuck to be done with before they could finally settle down without having to wonder what games Chuck is up to. Unfortunately, they both didn't make it that far together as Dean's life was cut short.

Sam gently pushed the door open to check on her as she hadn't gotten out of bed for the day. It's Saturday and on Saturdays she would spend her time baking all kinds of pies for Dean to taste.

The bed dipped beneath Sam and the dog's weight, the grieving pair didn't say anything right away. Sam's eyes landed on the pile of Dean's dirty clothes in the corner of the room that Y/N has yet to move, causing his eyes to tear up more.

"Sammy?" Y/N finally lifted her puffy face from the pillow to look at the lone Winchester brother who shared the same miserable, exhausted look.

"Hey, I um…I came to see how you were doing, also wanted to know if you were up to getting some fresh air with me."

"I'm not up for it Sam, just let me be."

"Come on Y/N, you've been cooped up here for two days. You need some fresh air." He gently squeezed her ankle and she sighed. He was right, she needed to get out of the room that held so many memories of her and Dean.

"Okay."

She hauled herself out of bed once Sam left the room and pulled on a pair of leggings and one of Dean's old flannels that she loved seeing him in. She loosely tied her hair into a bun and slipped on her sneakers to join Sam on his nature walk.

"Let's go buddy." The fluffy dog didn't need to be told twice as he happily walked beside her.

Sam and Y/N both claimed the steps and headed out the door; the bright sunlight almost blinding her from its intensity. There's a lake about two miles away which she loved to go to when she needed to clear her head, that's something she really needed to do right now.

"Sam I have a question." The tall giant looked down at her, waiting for her to continue as they trudged closer to their destination.

"Are you going to keep working cases? You know, carry on the hunting tradition."

"Honestly, I don't know. It definitely isn't going to be the same anymore and I don't think I'll be able to do that without.." His voice trailed off, his mind flooding with memories of him and Dean.

"Okay."

"What about you, what are you going to do? Dean set you free before he left."

"Love is nowhere in the cards for me again Sammy." The pretty lake came into view and the pair quickened their pace a bit to sit on the fallen tree trunk.

"Dean was it for me ya know, I mean he was far from perfect but he was to me, flaws included."

"But he said-"

"I know what he said but I don't think I'll be able to move on, not anytime soon anyways. What about you, you lost Eileen all over again." Sam tossed a stone into the water fighting back his tears yet again. He missed his girlfriend so much.

"I'm sure someone will come along soon enough. I'll miss her everyday but I can’t keep living in the past." The pair fell silent, focusing on the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees that surrounded them.

"I miss him so much Sammy."

"Same here Y/N."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder and he leaned his on top of her head.

"I miss Cas and Jack too."

"Me too."

—

Ten years later

"Behind you!" Sam warned Y/N of the demon charging at her a second too late as he drove the angel blade into her back.

She collapsed to the floor, blood pouring out of her wound. Sam killed the demon before moving to her side.

"No no no no no, stay with me alright." Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to dial 911.

"Sammy, no."

"I can't lose you too Y/N, I can’t."

"You're going to be alright Sam, tell little Dean that auntie loves him for me please." Blood stained her mouth as she slowly faded.

"Y/N…please."

"I guess my time is up, never thought I'd be taken out by one of those suckers though. You'll be fine Sam, it's time to let me go. I love you Sammy."

"I love you too." Sam broke down into tears, watching the light fade from her eyes until she took her final breath. She was the sister that he never knew he needed and now he has to add her to the list of dead family members.

Now all he's left with in this world is his son. The only good thing about this is the fact that he didn't have to break the news to anyone since she never did move on from Dean, she had flings but nothing serious.

Y/N stood in the middle of an open road surrounded by tall trees, no incoming traffic, no loud noises only peace and quiet. Looking down at her outfit she was surprised to see that she was wearing the floral mid-thigh dress that Dean had bought her. She ran her hands down the chiffon material with a bright smile on her face.

The familiar rumble of the impala drew her attention up ahead as it came to a stop in front of her. Dean got out of Baby with his charming smile on his face, she missed that smile so much.

"Hey sweetheart."

"Dean."

Y/N took off running towards him, jumping into his open arms. Dean effortlessly caught his girl and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He didn’t know how long it's been since he died as time doesn't exist in heaven but by the way she's squeezing him tight he could tell it's been far too long.

"I missed you so much." Y/N pulled back to cup his face in her hands, his green eyes stared up at her.

"I know sweetheart, I missed you too."

[dumdaradumdaradum]

Janmashtami reminded me how Vaasudev never returned to vrindavan and it really tugged on my heart strings. I spent hours questioning and grieving, trust me I felt the grief. I couldnt understand how a kid could leave his life behind like that, how did he live, how did he never look back.

How could i not feel the melancholy of his parents?

They loved him so dearly, more than their own life. Every inch of braj did.

I had no answer. I couldn't understand him. I wondered what happened to the love.

After hours of torturing myself with such thoughts, i let go. I couldn't afford to let this make me more anxious. Of course I felt a little better when i stopped putting my energy to it but a small corner of my heart held on.

I didn't realise it till I felt the first shiver of season change this morning.

I'm here with what I realised.

He had a purpose, a responsibility towards his birth parents and the bhoomi of magadha- given his relation. Once he fulfilled that, he was sent for formal education. He spent years imbibing and growing.

When he came out of the gurukul, he was no longer the kid who left vrindavan. He was changed person with new priorities, new purpose, new responsibilities and new struggles.

His life evolved and took him along the tide of existence.

In his life, his shoulders were so ladden with responsibilities, his hands were so full of duties. Despite being a free soul, life slowly circled around him with its chains and he let it because he knew, he knew that was for the best.

He understood that life wasn't meant to be standstill and rooted, esp not his.

Much like the cosmos, existence is tidal and dynamic. It sheilds itself away like ocean floor, you have to simply surrender to the flow and guide it the way you want it. That's the best you can do. That's what he did.

So in a way we're all like Krishna, we all leave our families behind. We all move forward with the spirit of our parents in our heart.

We all yearn to leave our house and go look for a life that suits us best. As we grow older, we change, evolve and become someone else.

But does that mean we no longer harbour love for our families? No. We always carry them with us in our deepest rooted sensibilities and actions.

I guess you can call me dumb that I took so long to understand this but hey, i finally got it and I'm happy. Very happy in fact.

This was a fruitful morning. Anyways thank you for attending another one of my rants and realisations. you don't have to but you do (i kinda force you by tagging y'all but you can always ignore lmao) sorry