#because the severe lack of fics made me depressed

[loveisonlyforthebrave8]

Summary:

a sweet little smut fic highlighting Chen Yi's possessiveness and the ensuing chaos of navigating his relationship with Ai Di. ao3

Chen Yi knows Ai Di is a jealous person.

Every instance where Boss rings and Chen Yi instinctually picks up on the first ring is always accompanied with Ai Di’s face screwing up as he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like an insult thrown in his direction. But what Ai Di doesn’t realise is that it’s entirely reflex. If I ring, you pick up has been drilled into his life since he joined the Chen family. It’s not going to stop overnight, no matter how much Ai Di wishes it would.

But Chen Yi now at least understands why Ai Di acts this way. He understands a little too well what Ai Di’s jealousy looks like, a deep-rooted fear of abandonment and a life of yearning for something he never thought he’d ever get takes its toll. But Chen Yi does everything in his power to make up for the feelings he knows Ai Di tries and fails to hide from him.

What Chen Yi can’t seem to comprehend though is his own jealousy. He never thought of himself as a jealous man. A little possessive, maybe, but never jealous.

Recently, however, he seems to have pushed those limits to the brink. 

He always knew he hated Ai Di’s insistence on running that goddamn bar, and now that he owns it he’s there more often than he’s not, and that wouldn’t be an issue if Chen Yi wasn’t also hyperconscious of Ai Di’s history with the men who frequent his bar. 

Chen Yi was always privy to the way Ai Di slept around, even more aware of the way that used to feel like a punch to the gut each time he’d witness another man’s tongue in Ai Di’s mouth. But he never let himself think too deeply on why it made him feel that way, it was simply easier to brush it under the rug and let the knot unfurl in his stomach the moment Ai Di returned to him. Because he always did return. 

Ai Di never stayed the whole night at his hook ups, no matter what time of the night it was, he would always return home to Chen Yi, and the routine was always the same. He’d open Chen Yi’s bedroom door and linger for a moment before heading to his own room. 

On those kinds of evenings Chen Yi got into the habit of leaving his door ajar, though he never really knew why at the time, other than the thought of it bringing Ai Di a sense of comfort and that was usually his top priority. He now knows that it had become a comfort to him too, knowing his boy had come back to him. 

Now that Ai Di belongs to him in every way, it’s increasingly harder to ignore the way hungry eyes linger on his boy. Chen Yi knows Ai Di would never stray, and he also knows that the men Ai Di used to fool around with were just meaningless fucks to ease the pain of his yearning when Chen Yi was too stubborn to notice that Ai Di’s heart belonged to him from the very beginning. 

Thankfully, Chen Yi isn’t the asshole breaking Ai Di’s heart anymore, he’s the one who gets to look after it. And despite the fact he’s staked his claim with matching dog tags and the many additions to Ai Di’s rather impressive collection of collars, men still think they can look and occasionally touch what doesn’t belong to them. 

It drives Chen Yi to the point of literal insanity. 

Tonight is no different. 

When Chen Yi arrives at the bar just after 2am it's to a visual of Ai Di dancing next to some faceless man who can't seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself. Chen Yi’s immediate response to seeing another man’s hands on Ai Di, innocent or not, is normally to haul ass over there and pull Ai Di back where he belongs, but for some reason he’s rooted to the spot, watching the gentle grind of Ai Di’s hips as they sway to the beat of the song. Chen Yi is stuck, mesmerised by the way his boy moves his tiny body, the lazy smile that graces his face, the slow trace of his hands as they make their way over his head. 

Chen Yi may have been late in distinguishing his complicated feelings for the boss and the way they differ from the way he’d convinced himself he felt for Ai Di, but one thing that was never complicated was the way he always had his eyes on Ai Di. Never letting him sway too far away, and when it did inevitably reach a point where Ai Di slipped from his line of sight, he always made it everyone’s fucking business. Rounding up the troops to find Ai Di.

Now is no different, but the implications behind his possessive thoughts are much clearer and far less innocent than they once pretended to be. Especially in moments like this, as Chen Yi’s hungry eyes latch on to a single drop of sweat as it slides caressingly down Ai Di’s collared neck.

Chen Yi openly watches its descent until it eventually tucks itself neatly into the piece wrapped lovingly around Ai Di’s throat and when the fog finally settles at its destination Chen Yi’s entire body betrays him. His head fills with cotton and a choked breath escapes his lungs and forces it way out of his lips as the burning inferno inside him ramps up to its highest setting. 

He’s now aware only of the sweat dripping down his own neck in response and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the realisation that Ai Di is wearing his most recently acquired collar. 

The collar Chen Yi gifted him for their joint birthday. 

The collar that was meant to be worn only in the privacy of their bedroom. 

The collar with the words ‘Boss Chen Yi’ engraved into the heart of the leather. 

Chen Yi’s traitorous cock twitches painfully in his pants as he realises the implications of Ai Di’s choice in collar for this evening. 

The possessiveness claws at his insides like a feral beast. 

Chen Yi is fighting for his life. 

But all too suddenly the moment shifts, twisting into something ugly and dark as the brainless oaf, who’d been nothing but an afterthought in Chen Yi’s horned-up mind, decides to put his filthy lips on Ai Di’s body. 

And something inside Chen Yi snaps.

Desperation and possessive rage liquify the cotton into something brittle and jagged and suddenly all Chen Yi is able to process is the most painful way he can kill a man with his bare hands.  

With those thoughts in mind, Chen Yi storms the crowd of scantily clad boys and men, who part on instinct, the way prey scatters whilst being hunted in the wild, and it leaves his path so spectacularly clear that it’s a shock even to him how easy his target just became. 

The force of impact upon landing, plus Ai Di’s impulsive nature, already with half a retort in his mouth, forces the boy to swing round just in time to catch the full scope of Chen Yi’s rage as he pummels the pathetic excuse of a man to the ground. Chen Yi’s fist flies back and forth as blood splatters across his knuckles. 

Blinded by pure instinct alone, Chen Yi hears nothing over the sound of his fist connecting with soft flesh, and the satisfying crunch of bone. He pulls back one final time when other sounds pop back into the scope of his brain and halt him in his track.

Ai Di’s voice calling his name is all it takes for Chen Yi to stop, the rage slowly  dissipates and the world shifts back into focus. All he knows now is the fire in Ai Di’s eyes as he drags Chen Yi’s face to look at him and the soft words that follow, “Take me home.” 

Home, yeah, great fucking idea. 

Chen Yi doesn’t know how they make it out of the club or how they make it back to their bedroom, but what he does know is the taste of Ai Di on his tongue as he laps at the sweat still sitting beneath his collar before moving up to devour is boys mouth with teeth and tongue. 

“Christ, Chen Yi- what’s gotten into you?” Ai Di moans into the kiss, already half hard and desperate as he rips his lips away to bare his neck once more for Chen Yi’s needy tongue. 

Chen Yi can hardly focus on words when actions are a much more effective way of getting his point across, but he does manage to choke out a forceful ‘mine’ which has Ai Di grabbing his hair by the fistful and responding with a smug, “Yeah Boss, all yours.”

Which only furthers Chen Yi’s spiralling thoughts to consume and mark and bite as he drops to his knees, latches onto the neckline of Ai Di’s shirt and tears it clean in half. 

Ai Di huffs out his frustrations about his ruined shirt, but the throaty little whine he releases as Chen Yi bites down on his nipple masks any real threat in his voice. Chen Yi smirks around the bud as he feels the shudder run down Ai Di’s entire body. Chen Yi doesn’t stop, leaving his marks all over Ai Di’s chest, but working a particularly nasty twin pair along the collarbone and hip bone, his favourite places on Ai Di’s body. Only then does he pull back to admire his work. 

Ai Di is now fully hard in front of him, tenting in his pants and Chen Yi wants nothing more than to get his mouth back on his boy, so he does, mouthing hotly at the wet patch already forming on Ai Di’s red cargo pants before stripping him and getting his mouth where he really wants it, wrapped tightly around the head of Ai Di’s weeping cock. 

The sweet little noises and elongated utterances in english of ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ from Ai Di settle something dark in Chen Yi’s gut. He lets himself fall under Ai Di’s spell even further when he opens his throat and lets his boy take what he needs. Chen Yi chokes around a moan on a particularly deep thrust and when he surprises Ai Di with a soft caress across his neglected rim Ai Di’s legs buckle. 

Fully aware of the effect he’s having, Chen Yi pulls off and catches him before he hits the ground. Chen Yi never lets him fall.  

Ai Di barely notices the change as he’s hauled into Chen Yi’s arms and thrown down onto the bed. But the little shit does bare his neck again, purposefully bringing attention to the goddamn strip of leather that started all of this. 

“I see you like your new present.” Chen Yi smiles, tapping at his own throat like Ai Di isn’t aware of exactly what he’s talking about. 

“I do.” Ai Di purrs. “Shame it didn’t work though.” He pouts, thumbing the metal ring next to Chen Yi’s name and tugging it menacingly. “Men still think they have the right to touch me, Boss. What’re you gonna do about it? As hot as that display back at the bar was, you can’t beat them all to death.”  

Chen Yi growls and yanks Ai Di’s cargo pants and boxers clean off. 

“Watch me.” He says fiercely as he spreads Ai Di’s legs and tries to dive between them, but Ai Di’s reflexes have always been faster. He chuckles darkly and stops Chen Yi’s descent with a tiny, but powerful foot in the middle of his chest. 

“Ah ah ah- take it easy, Boss.”

Chen Yi tries to evade him, ignoring his plea as he goes to grab the leg attached to the foot currently halting him in his place, but as he does Ai Di launches him backwards with a forceful shove. 

“Before you touch me, I need something from you.” 

“Ai Di…” Chen Yi whines as he makes to step forward one more time, but Ai Di shuffles himself further up the bed out of reach. 

“Be good, Chen Yi.” He says as he settles himself on his knees amongst the mountain of pillows. “I’m yours, always have been. So I’m gonna need you to show me.” 

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Chen Yi groans. 

“Not with your cock, Yi. I need you to own me. I need those men at the bar, and any man who dares to look in my direction from here on out to know, explicitly, who I belong to. The collars are pretty, but they aren’t enough.”

Chen Yi’s frustration at the truth behind Ai Di’s words burn him to his very core. He wants the same thing, but what more can he possibly do than kill every single man who tries to touch what belongs to him? 

“Tell me what you need.” He says darkly. 

Chen Yi watches through half-lidded eyes as Ai Di squirms, slowly pumping his tiny fist up and down his still spit-slicked cock. Impatient little thing thrusts into his own fist and sighs. But in his distraction Ai Di has pulled something shiny from behind his back and dangles it in front of himself. It takes a minute for Chen Yi to realise what it is he’s seeing, but when he does his eyes widen. 

“You want me to-?”

“-I want them to know, Chen Yi.” 

Ai Di attaches the metal leash onto the ring at the front of his collar and offers the other end in Chen Yi’s direction. “I need you to own me.” He repeats the sentiment from earlier. 

Chen Yi’s entire body burns with need. His hands tremble as he reaches out to grab the end of the leash being offered by his good boy. He yanks on it to test its strength and Ai Di lets out the most delicious sound that goes straight to his cock. 

“God, Ai Di- this is-”

“-what I want, Chen Yi.” 

Chen Yi nods in agreement and tugs once more on the leash. 

Ai Di’s eyes haze over as a result and he follows blindly, flopping forward onto his hands and knees and crawls, closing the remaining distance, and showing his appreciation by nuzzling his face against Chen Yi’s still covered cock. 

“Need you.” Ai Di sobs after lapping too long at the rapidly staining fabric. “Need your cock now.”

Chen Yi wraps the metal chain around his palm a few times to shorten the length and then uses its remaining rigidity to tug Ai Di away from his cock as he slowly bends to Ai Di’s level and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” 

Ai Di’s responding shiver sends him mad with lust. 

Chen Yi uses the leash to force Ai Di onto his knees in a deep arch, with his ass in the air. He takes a moment to watch as Ai Di sinks into the mattress, panting into the sheets as he uses both hands to present himself just for Chen Yi. 

The vision alone has Chen Yi biting his lip hard enough to taste the all too familiar metallic tang as blood fills his mouth. It shouldn’t, but it still shocks him sometimes how willing Ai Di is to bare himself so brazenly for him. 

He knows it’s his own goddamn fault, but it still irks him to think about the fact that he wasn’t the first, second, or even third person to have the privilege of making a home in Ai Di’s sweet little body, but what does bring a small iota of comfort is the knowledge that his boy has never submitted the way he does when he’s with Chen Yi. 

Ai Di has always been his feral kitten by nature; full of fire and violence and destruction, who only ever turns soft and sweet and submissive when he’s got Chen Yi’s cock buried in his ass. And that beautiful submission reveals the truth of Ai Di’s loyalty. Chen Yi is, and will always be, the only one who ever gets to see Ai Di this way. He won’t ever take it for granted again, and he’ll spend the rest of their lives together proving it. 

Chen Yi makes quick work of lubing up his fingers before trailing the tip of one against Ai Di’s fluttering hole. Ai Di arches further into the touch, hissing at him to ‘stop teasing and hurry the fuck up’. Ai Di never has to beg twice for anything. But because he’s being such an impatient little shit Chen Yi decides to show him who’s really in charge by yanking the leash harsher this time.

“Greedy boys get what I give them.” 

But despite his own authority, Chen Yi knows he never truly denies Ai Di anything anymore so without thinking too deeply into why that is he pushes one long digit all the way in, curling his finger with pinpoint accuracy right against Ai Di’s sweet spot. The responding cry tells him everything he needs to know to continue pumping with one, two, three fingers until Ai Di is a writhing mass of soft limbs beneath him, crying desperately into the mattress as Chen Yi forces him past the point of climax, toppling him straight into hysteria. 

As much as Chen Yi enjoys making an absolute mess of his boy, he hates not being able to see the ruin for himself, so with a practised ease he flips Ai Di onto his back and laps at the remaining liquid splattered across Ai Di’s torso with a deep hum of appreciation. Using Ai Di’s distraction he strips himself, and begins fisting his own cock a few times to try and calm the deep seated hunger he feels brewing in his belly. 

Still pumping his cock, Chen Yi watches carefully as Ai Di slowly makes his return to the surface with a soft smile and groggy eyes and when Ai Di blinks up at him in semi-awareness Chen Yi chuckles softly, releasing himself in favour of Ai Di’s attention and asks, “You back with me?” 

Only when Ai Di nods back does he then ask, “think you can take more?” with a soft pat against Ai Di’s ass. 

Ai Di scoffs, “One orgasm isn’t going to take me out. Barely felt it, actually.” The little shit giggles and then makes a grab for Chen Yi, pulling him flush between his spread legs until he’s using the new found, post-orgasm strength to switch their positions so that he’s now straddling Chen Yi, hovering menacingly over Chen Yi’s painfully neglected cock. 

“Think you can take me riding this thing,” he fists Chen Yi’s cock in his tiny hand and flicks the head over his slickened hole once before releasing him to grab the leash still attached to his neck and pushing it into Chen Yi’s open mouth, “while you choke me with that thing?” 

Chen Yi spits out the looped leather end and once again wraps the remaining metal chain tightly around his palm before he drags Ai Di’s lips onto his own. They both sink into the kiss, ripping into the core of one another as they lick and suck and bite and allow each other to take and take and take. The kiss leaves them both breathless and when they do have to pull away, they don’t go far, stealing breath from each other’s lungs as they pant into one another’s mouths. But the need is too great, and their magnetism pulls them back together again and again until Chen Yi uses the chain to haul Ai Di away, though it pains him to do so. But he’s literally on the precipice of release, and the fear of coming too soon brings him back to reality. 

“Fuck.” Chen Yi breathes, “Need a minute, Di. Don’t wanna come until I’m inside you.” 

Ai Di whines and impatiently grinds down on his cock, “Then get to it, Boss. Want you to fill me up.” 

Chen Yi  groans, burying his head in the crease of Ai Di’s neck and mumbles into his collarbone, “Stop saying shit like that or I’ll blow my load right now.” 

In moments like this Chen Yi has to hand it to Ai Di, when he wants something, there is no one in this fucking world that’s going to stop him. And so, without warning Ai Di pulls Chen Yi’s head out of his shoulder, arches his back, expertly reaches around to find Chen Yi’s cock and sinks down on it in one fell swoop. 

Chen Yi barely has time to process a single second of what’s just happened until he’s literally buried balls deep in Ai Di’s ass. And when his brain eventually catches up to his cock, he can only throw his head back and cry out in pure fucking bliss.  

“Jesus fucking christ, Ai Di!” Chen Yi bellows as Ai Di starts bouncing his perfect little ass up and down at a pace that would be considered psychotic to anyone other than Ai Di. 

The crazy fucking psychopath, giddy as ever, fucks himself on Chen Yi’s cock like it was made just for him and it forces Chen Yi to lie back and let him taketaketake until they’re both satisfied, but a small part of his brain reminds him that he knows Ai Di and the residing chaos that follows his boy sometimes needs to right kind of taming. 

With that knowledge he’s looping his finger into the metal ring of Ai Di’s collar and pulling. Hard. The immediate effect sends Ai Di hurtling toward subspace, his greedy hole doesn’t stop taking, but the bouncing slows into a dirty grind, which makes Chen Yi twitch inside him, but he’s focussed now, and he desperately wants Ai Di’s full submission.

“Good boy.” Chen Yi croons, “Taking me so well.” 

Ai Di swoons at the praise, but Chen Yi knows he’s not entirely in his own head right now, can see it in the way Ai Di’s eyes have lost focus, can feel it in the way his limbs have loosened, and all the tension in his shoulders, his thighs, his arms, have gone as he lets Chen Yi take full control of his pleasure. 

Chen Yi smiles in open adoration of the trust Ai Di has given him. “Gonna take care of you, Di. Give you what you need.” 

Though he doesn’t pull on the leash again, Chen Yi does fit his entire palm under the collar and gives Ai Di’s neck a squeeze, watching the way Ai Di falls completely under as his eyes roll back into his head. 

Chen Yi keeps a soft, but steady pace as he fucks up into his boy, angling himself until he hears incoherent babbles from Ai Di that let him know he’s hit his mark, and only when the noises reach a fever pitch does he flip the pair of them so he can begin thrusting brutally into Ai Di to bring him to the brink of his bodies pleasure. 

Well versed by now in the exact tone of Ai Di’s pleas when he’s close Chen Yi buries himself deeper, and squeezes a little bit harder until Ai Di’s eyes fly open. Chen Yi doesn’t dare stop, but he basks in the moment Ai Di topples head first into the abyss.  

It doesn’t take much for him to follow suit. The tight vice of Ai Di’s warmth sends him spiralling into his own. 

When Chen Yi regains the baser functions of his body and brain he lifts his head from Ai Di’s neck with a trail of soft kisses and lets the sweet words spill from his lips as he tries to coax Ai Di back up. 

“Come back to me, Di. Open your eyes, baby.” He whispers against Ai Di’s cheek, as he wipes away the tears that fell sometime during their peak. 

Eventually, the coaxing starts to take effect and Ai Di shifts, his breath evens out, and slowly his eyes flutter open. They’re still dopey and glazed, but there’s a sense of awareness creeping back in that makes Chen Yi beam with pride. 

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. You did so well.” 

Still unable to produce actual words, Ai Di hums his affections back, a sign that he’s almost fully resurfaced. 

Chen Yi stays inside Ai Di for as long as he can, having learnt from previous experience how vital it is to Ai Di in this vulnerable state to have Chen Yi as close as humanly possible. Because as much as they both know Chen Yi won’t ever leave, Ai Di’s brain, especially in this state of flux, likes to trick him into thinking he’s not worthy of love.

So Chen Yi stays- exactly where he belongs- for as long as he can. 

And when Ai Di finally returns, it’s with his usual sass and resuming chaos. 

“So, Boss, when are you going to parade me and my new leash around for all the boys to see.” 

Chen Yi wouldn’t have him any other way. 

[jennifer-jeong]

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

Fluff + Angst | LADS x Fae!Reader Angel

CONTENT Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[thebreakfastgenie]

beejhawk 👀

LMAO I was just sitting here like "no one even bothers to send me beejhawk anymore" but bless you to the bottom of your pot-stirring heart, anon.

Don’t Ship It

Why don’t you ship it? I have several reasons, which I will get into it, but I'm going to start with this one: I like a happy ending. Beejhawk cannot be a happy ending to me. I'm not entirely convinced any Hawkeye/4077th ship being endgame can be a happy ending, even the ones I like. I want to see Hawkeye move on from the war, which is what GFA is setting him up to do. Beejhawk keeps him stuck with the war defining his life. That's depressing to me. In the larger narrative of Hawkeye's life, it's important to me that the war is unimportant. The war being how Hawkeye met the love of his life gives me the ick. It implicitly suggests the war was somehow worth it. I can't think of a single reason why I would ship it. I think the biggest reason is it's simply too OOC for me. I cannot believe that Hawkeye would be in love with BJ. That is not Hawkeye to me. I actually can believe that BJ would be in love with Hawkeye, even though BJ is extremely straight to me, but I can't see Hawkeye reciprocating, ever. I've read some beejhawk fic and a lot of posts, and the way Hawkeye behaves and is characterized doesn't just feel wrong to me, it feels wrong in the way I hate the most. BJ is usually wildly OOC too. The other big reason is the complete lack of chemistry. They have negative romantic chemistry to me. This is a much smaller reason, but the things people get from beejhawk I get from other ships that make more sense to me. For a best friends ship, I have piercentyre. If I want to ship Hawkeye with someone repressed, I have hawnk or houlihawk. Sometimes I joke about this but it's kind of true that I don't need beejhawk because I have hawnk. The Joke Is Wild? Hawnk did it first. I genuinely do not understand why beejhawk is a ship at all, except that they're the two main guys. If I didn't know how slash culture worked, I would have been shocked that it even existed. In the last few seasons, I'm not even convinced they like each other. I found myself asking "do these guys even like each other?" about the alleged best friends more than once, and I had to actively rev up my suspension of disbelief to enjoy their goodbye properly the first time I watched GFA. I very strongly dislike any framing of MASH as a love story, and I have yet to find beejhawk content that doesn't turn it into the Ballad of Hawkeye and BJ. Piercentyre is fun for me, because it really changes the show very little. Beejhawk requires me to rewire the entire show, and I don't want to. A lot of moments that I adore become less meaningful to me if they're shippy. For example, Where There's a Will, There's a War. "When I wake up remind me to give you a kiss" is an expression of BJ's profound relief and a wonderful resolution to the anxiety and guilt he's been feeling for the whole episode. It's hyperbole that only works because they don't normally kiss or want to kiss. It always brings to mind a lyric from a song about WWII: "and I never kissed so many men as on that afternoon." It's not about romance, it's about being glad to be alive. I just like the show better without beejhawk. I started out a little more neutral and my visceral revulsion built through overexposure. There was also an assumption that you shipped beejhawk that I really resented. Especially because of the implications around it being slash. I am gay, I ship gay ships, I ship other gay ships in MASH. I don't ship beejhawk. I'm not required to ship every single gay ship. So all those beejhawk posts about "gay people love this" or "gay people think that" bother me and turn me off even more.

What would have made you like it? Completely different acting/chemistry. Something completely different from what I ever see the fandom do with it. I could probably be sold on unrequited (BJ's side only) or unhappy ending beejhawk in fic if it was really well done. This is your chance to plug! I think a realistic handling of it would help too. The show gives me a BJ who is as far from leaving his family as a man can be. I need to be convinced that something would change that. Meta claiming he's actually close to leaving in the show does not work for me, it directly contradicts what I see. I need writers to dig into it. Actually show me the dissolution of BJ's marriage, the pain and consequences. Show me how he manages to stay in his daughter's life, if he does. Brokeback Mountain does not shy away from how badly Ennis treats his wife and how absent he is to his children. My experience with beejhawk is that much angst is made of the obstacles to their being together, but they're quickly dispatched with. Tell me what Hawkeye sees in BJ, because I don't see it in the show.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? It inspired me to make these. I've been thinking lately that this lyric fits beejhawk "perhaps we don't fulfill each other's fantasies." If you know me, you know this is something positive from me, because it's from what I think is one of the best songs ever written. There is some interesting potential. Just get out of the true love box! Try something dark, something one-sided (BJ's side), something that ends badly! I do really like their friendship in the first few BJ seasons.

[artiststarme]

I always see fics about Eddie hurting Steve but I never see any about Steve hurting Eddie. So here you go! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

Eddie knew that Steve had good intentions and he knew that he was blowing things out of proportion. However, he was so sick of not having control over anything in his life that things were bound to blow up at some point. Between not graduating high school with the rest of his year, being put on house arrest for several months while waiting for his name to clear, and dealing with his life-altering injuries, Eddie was a miniscule way away from breaking down entirely. 

Unfortunately, Steve was the last crack that it took for his whole facade to shatter. 

Eddie didn’t have control over anything. He couldn’t make the townspeople believe his side of things or in his innocence. He couldn’t walk across the stage to pick up his diploma like he’d dreamed of doing for years. He couldn’t even breathe too deeply some days in fear of awakening a flare of chronic pain. 

What he could do though was keep a tidy trailer. He’d taken to organizing the fridge and cabinets in the kitchen in a way that only made sense to him. He’d color-coded his DnD notebooks and tapes in his room. Hell, he’d even organized Wayne’s remaining mug collection in order from most to least flattering colors. He had a system now in his home and it was quite literally the only thing keeping him together. 

So when Wayne dropped him off at home after a particularly grueling physical therapy session and found the kitchen reorganized, he might have lost it a little bit. And when he opened the fridge to find his travel cup of coffee missing, what other option did he have than to cry? He burst into loud, ugly sobs and melted to the floor. It wouldn’t help the pain in his scars when he tried to get back up but he needed to feel close to gravity again. 

Steve came running out of Eddie’s bedroom at the first cry and sunk to his knees beside him desperately. “Eddie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Can you answer me?”

“Where’s my coffee? I had it on the door of the fridge but now it’s gone. Where is it?” He asked frantically. 

Steve just shook his head, “Eds, it was almost empty and it’s been there for days so I threw it away.”

There went his last shred of sanity. “I made it today! It was fine, you had no right to throw it away! That was the only thing I’ve been looking forward to! Fuck!”

“Eds, relax. There’s another coffee in there and you shouldn’t be drinking so much coffee anyways. The kitchen was really disorganized so I cleaned it up for you, I thought you’d be happy,” Steve said. 

Eddie just shook his head in response, tears still dripping from his face. “I’m the one that organized it! I have a fucking system, Steve! This is the one thing that I can control and you took it away! I asked you not to mess with anything, but you did it anyway.”

Steve just looked at him in confusion, “I just wanted to help-”

“Please leave, I can’t do this right now.” He needed to sob his emotions out in peace and then take a long, grieving nap. 

“Are we breaking up?” Steve whispered.

“No, I’m mad at you because you threw my coffee away and fucked up my system. I’ll call you later just… please leave for now. Please,” Eddie begged him. 

Steve shrugged, picked up his keys, and walked out the door. Then, Eddie was alone with a disastrously organized kitchen and a lack of coffee. They would talk this out later and establish boundaries so this never happened again. But for now, Eddie was alone with his depression, pain, and angst. With little else to do, he tucked his face into his knees and cried. 

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

[cariantha]

Prom

Book: Open Heart, Book 2

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: Ethan helps Sawyer remedy one of her biggest regrets.

A/N: This fic was inspired by an ask from @jerzwriter who wanted to know whether Sawyer and Ethan attended their high school proms.

Sawyer slept peacefully in his arms for a couple of hours before waves of excruciating stomach aches began to crash over her. Having done everything he could medically, all Ethan could do now was hold her hand through it and hope that the others would be able to manufacture a miracle.

Sawyer could no longer diminish the severity of the pain. She cries and wraps her arms around her waist as the next bout of sharp cramping cripples her body. 

“I know, Rookie… I know,” he gently rubs her back, feeling otherwise helpless. As her suffering subsides, Ethan eases her back against the pillow and dabs the tears from her face with a tissue. The dull reflection in her eyes concerns him. As the maitotoxin steals the strength from her body, the hopelessness of the situation robs her of the will to fight. 

“What a waste,” she whispers looking up at the ceiling. 

“What’s a waste?”

“My life.”

“How can you possibly think that?” he questions, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. With plastic-covered hands, he brushes some stray hairs from her face.

“I spent half of my life doing what I thought other people expected of me. I’ve spent the other half working myself to death to become a doctor. And for what? I’m finally at the finish line and it’s all been for nothing. I could have spent more time with my family. Hell, I could have had my own family by now. I could have traveled. I could have… I could have gone to prom!” she turns and sobs into the pillow. 

“Sawyer, you can’t think like that. Don’t think about what you didn’t get to do. Think about what you’re going to do when you get out of this room.” 

They both sit in silence for a moment when Ethan shakes his head with a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, wiping away the new tears.

“Prom? Really? That’s one of your biggest regrets?” he laughs.

Sawyer plays it back in her head and starts laughing with him, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. 

“It’s stupid, I know!” she admits, “But it was just one of those rites of passage moments that I missed out on.”

“Why didn’t you go? It’s hard to believe that no one asked the smartest and most beautiful girl in school.”

Sawyer can't help the big smile that spreads across her face. A small win for Ethan as he tries to keep her spirits up. 

“Thank you. No one got the chance to ask because I graduated from high school a year early. I didn’t get to do any of the senior year stuff like spring break, ditch day, prom, graduation parties…” 

“I didn’t go to my prom either.” 

“Really? Why?”

“I couldn’t justify digging into my college savings for an over-the-top one-time date. My dad offered to help with a little extra cash, but I didn’t feel right accepting when he still had to work overtime to make ends meet. And honestly, there wasn’t anyone I was willing to suffer through that kind of evening with.”

“If I had been in your class, would you have asked me?”

Thinking of all the things he would have done differently since meeting Sawyer, “I would have been the first in line to ask and I would have spent my whole damn savings just to impress you.”

She holds onto that thought as another agonizing wave of pain rolls over her.

********************

It’s been several months since the attack and Sawyer slips into a period of depression, the aftermath still too heavy a burden at times. All that hangs in the air as a result of the impending hospital closure causes overwhelming anxiety and sadness. 

Ethan begins to notice the signs. Lack of interest. Withdrawal. Tiredness. Dwelling on the past. 

To his credit, Ethan’s made quite the effort to remedy his biggest regret. Determined to make every precious moment count, he holds Sawyer in his arms every chance he gets and shows her as often as possible just how much she means to him. But he wants to do something more. Provide a distraction. Give her something to look forward to. Make up for lost time and missed chances. And that’s when the idea comes to him. He’s going to take Sawyer to prom. 

********************

“Hey, Dr. Hottie! What brings you to my neck of the woods?” 

“Kyra,” he warns.

“Sorry. I need to remember you can report me to HR now,” she laughs. “What’s up, Doc?”

“I was hoping for your assistance with a personal matter.” Ethan takes a seat in front of her desk and explains his idea. “Given your experience with event planning, I figured you’d be the best person to ask. So, what do you think?”

“What I think, Dr. Ro-man-sey… is you just got my vote for prom king.”

Rolling his eyes at the new nickname, “Ok, so where should we start?”

********************

A few days later, Ethan is in the cafeteria waiting in line for the cashier. From behind him, he hears, “Hi, Dr. Ramsey!” 

“Trinh.”

“Kyra filled us in last night and I’m so excited for Sawyer. Let me know if I can help in any way.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how are you planning to ask her?”

“I was going to mention it tonight during dinner.” 

“No, no, no,” she shakes her head, “You have to come up with a cute prom proposal.”

“A what?”

As they reach the register, Ethan pays for both of their lunches. 

“Thank you!” She follows him to a table, sits down, and continues. “A prom proposal. Hold on… let me show you.”

Sienna pulls out her phone and opens the Pinterest app. She starts showing Ethan the different ideas and he vehemently shakes his head. 

“No.”  

“Ethan, it’s a major part of the prom experience nowadays.” 

As he pinches the bridge of his nose, Sienna scrolls down the page, commenting on the different photos. “What about this one?... Ooh, this would be super cute… Aww, look how sweet…”

“Go back up,” he instructs and points. “That one.”

She pauses to consider, realizing that was probably as “cute” as it was going to get coming from Ethan Ramsey. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Here’s what I think you should do…” 

********************

The next day, Ethan asks Sawyer to meet him for an afternoon break at Derry Roasters. He arrives twenty minutes beforehand to place a special order with the friendly barista who is more than happy to accommodate.

Arriving right on time, Sawyer greets him with a quick peck. “Hi.”

“Hi. I placed our order already,” pulling a chair out for her to sit. He notices the slump of her shoulders and the circles under her eyes. He reaches for her hand and holds it in her lap until their order is called.

“For Ethan!” the barista shouts. 

“Here you go,” Ethan returns, strategically setting the cup in front of Sawyer. 

“Thank y– wait, I don’t think this is mine,” she responds, looking around the café for a pair of teenagers.

“That’s your usual. It’s what I ordered.”

“Yeah, but it says, ‘Prom?’ I think this is meant to ask someone to prom,” showing him the writing on the cup.

“It is. So? Will you go to prom with me?”

“What?” she giggles, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“I want to take you to prom.”

Ethan can see the smile starting to form at the corner of her lips and a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. 

Raising her eyebrows, “How are you going to do that?”

“I have my ways.”

“And when is this happening?”

“Saturday after next. You can go dress shopping this weekend.”

As she looks at the cup in her hand again, a huge smile spreads across her face. Her eyes start to glisten with happy tears and she moves into Ethan’s lap wrapping her arms around his neck. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips, “I would love to go to prom with you, Ethan.” 

“Sawyer! Your date is here!” Sienna sings out. She and the other roommates all gather in the living room to see their friend’s grand entrance. 

With one last check in the mirror, Sawyer makes her way down the hall. A vision in glittering gold sequins, but it's the sparkle that has returned to her emerald eyes that captures Ethan’s attention.  

“Hi,” welcoming him with an uncontrollable smile. Her fingers run over the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, “Wow, you look great.”

“And you look–”

“Appropriate?” she teases. 

“Will that joke ever get old?” he wonders out loud. Leaning close to her ear, “I was going to say hot. If we didn’t have an audience right now…” he trails off placing a kiss on her cheek. Offering his arm, “Shall we?” 

“Oh, real quick. Si? Would you mind taking a couple of pictures before we go?”

Minutes later they step out onto the street and Sawyer can’t believe her eyes. “You rented a limo?” 

“Of course I did. It’s the prom.” As the chauffeur comes around to open the door, Ethan reaches into his pocket. “I have something for you. Hold out your hand. It’s not the traditional flower corsage…” he explains clasping a vintage Tiffany’s bracelet around her wrist, “but I wanted you to have something to always remember this night.”

Looking up into his sincere eyes, she kisses him. “How could I ever forget?” wrapping her arms around his waist, “And in case I forget to tell you later... thank you for the most amazing night.”

While Ethan and Sawyer enjoy a five-star meal at an exclusive restaurant downtown, her friends change and head to the venue with their plus ones. 

As the limo pulls up in front of the hotel and the chauffeur opens the door, Sawyer immediately spots a familiar face. “Alan?” she meets with a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I had to see my boy off to his first prom and get a photo for the mantel.” Taking a step back he squared up his phone, “Squeeze together and say ‘Prom!’” 

Alan escorts them inside, and when Sawyer enters the beautifully decorated ballroom, her eyes begin to swell. There is a dance floor in the middle of the room flanked by a couple of tables on each side. On stage, a live band plays a Bruno Mars’ cover of “Just the Way You Are”, a popular song from the year Sawyer graduated high school. As she turns to Ethan, she sees a small crowd gathering behind them. 

“What?!,” she spins around in shock, “I can’t believe you were all in on this!” 

She hugs each of her friends and exchanges pleasantries with the newcomers. Elijah and Phoebe. Bryce came with his kid sister, Keiki. Jackie, Aurora, and Kyra with dates that Sawyer hadn’t met before. And Rafael who had suggested to Sienna that they go together, knowing she was still struggling to move on after Danny. 

Off to the side, Sawyer noticed one other person.

“And where’s your date, handsome?” she kisses the older man on the cheek. 

“Oh, I’m not here as a guest, my dear. I’m your chaperone for this lovely event,” Naveen jokingly clarifies.

“Well, I’m going to save you a dance anyway. As you know, I sort of have a thing for authority figures,” she quips, backing up and wrapping an arm around Ethan’s waist. 

As the evening carries on, Sawyer hits the dance floor with her friends. Ethan cuts in for nearly every slow dance, only allowing turns for Alan and Naveen. Sawyer tries to get Ethan to stay for a couple of upbeat songs. Arm looped behind her and around his neck, she rocks her hips from side to side. Ethan stands in place, and with his hands on her swaying hips, it looks as though he’s moving along to the beat.

When the band starts playing another lively tune, Ethan makes his way to the bar for a drink. 

“It’s like a trial run!” Naveen shouts over the music.

Alan clinks his glass against Naveen’s.  

“What are you two conspiring about now?” Ethan interrupts.

“Naveen was just saying tonight could be seen as a trial run… for you know… da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum,” Alan hums with a crooked smile. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Ethan rolls his eyes and moves around them. “Bartender, a double?”

After Sienna surprises them both by announcing Ethan as prom king and crowning Sawyer prom queen, the evening begins to wind down. Naveen offers to give Alan a lift back to Ethan’s apartment. The friend group splits off, some heading home while others continue their date night activities elsewhere. 

Sawyer finds Ethan, his hand outstretched to tuck her into his arms.  

“This has been the most amazing night. I don’t want it to be over yet,” she breathes into his chest while squeezing him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, holding up a hotel key card. “I’ve arranged for a private afterparty in a suite upstairs.” Leaning down to whisper into her ear, “If you think I’m not going to make a play on my girlfriend and try to steal her prom virginity… you’ve misjudged me.”

“Well then, consider yourself lucky, Ethan Ramsey. Because I was definitely planning to put out for you tonight.” 

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog

[shawncantwrite]

I know you've been hurt in this walk of life. (let me find my shoes, I will walk with you.) - A Larissa Weems x Reader hurt/comfort fic.

A/N: purely self indulgent. as previously mentioned on the last episode of dragon ball z, my partner of two years broke up with me. On top of that, I've been relapsing because I'm oh so smart, but enough of the sob story, Have this fic I coughed up during my Depressive episode

This isn't proofread because, well, my proofreader dumped me 😭

TW: Self-depricating thoughts, Self-harm, implied child abuse, just the sads all around

.

.

.

Your life was shit. Pure unadulterated shit. It feels like from the moment you were born the universe was out to get you, like every circumstance was a "fuck you" to the face. Nothing ever went right for you. For starters, your parents were the absolute worse. They were constantly breathing down your neck about your grades and about how you present yourself in public, gotta protect their image they would say. From a young age you had to act older than you ever should have had to. Then in highschool everything just came crashing down on you, fear of the future, dread from the past... you finding out you were an outcast was just the cherry on top; it was one thing for you to be your family burden, but now you're also a blood sucking monster! Just your luck.

Life was a sea you were drowning in constantly, you felt as if there wasn't a day where water wasn't in your lungs and your mind wasn't constantly belittling you. It was tiring, exhausting, whatever else is synonymous. You just want it to stop. You wanted to feel something other than your emptiness, your constant dread of a lack of purpose.

Maybe that's when it started.

The first time was an accident. You were working on a school project and was cutting up some cardboard for a model, unfortunately you're a clutz and you accidentally dropped your cutter. You winced and grabbed your wrist which was now bleeding. Oddly enough though... you didn't really mind. You'd blamed the vampirism then but.. then you found that the cuts on your wrist went from accidental to on purpose.It was a dumb idea now that you think about it, you realise that now, maybe not then. You wanted to feel something, anything. The stinging sensation of the blade piercing your flesh was intoxicating, it hurt, but it hurt so comfortably. You found solace in it, no matter how morally grey it seemed.

But now, several years later, standing in front of your bathroom sink and staring down at the very same flesh you've abused all theseyears you can't help but loathe the scars you made. It's entirely your fault, you think, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. You stare and stare, each scar a reminder of how miserable you were, how pathetic you were.

It was a reminder of what life was like before her.

Larissa was a breath of fresh air in your miserable life. If you walked around with a rain cloud above your head she was the one holding and offering you an umbrella. She made your life a little bit more tolerable simply by being in it. Ever since meeting Larissa, you've noticed you've made some good changes to yourself. One of them being that you were almost half a year clean from cutting yourself!

..Almost.

Your hands grip the edge of the sink tightly, fighting back tears as you stare at two fresh scars you made the night before. That familiar feeling of dread filled you again, blinding yourself from seeing reason. Relapse is normal, Larissa once said, but you refused to tell her, you didn't want to disappoint her.

Then again, nobodys more disappointed in you than you are.

You're so lost in your self-loathing that you fail to hear the front door to your apartment open, Larissa had a spare key, you felt it was only right for her to have one by your 7th monthasarry. She calls out for you from the living room, but you're too busy hating the person in the mirror to realise that.It's only too late when you realise. The door to the bathroom clicked open, your angel's voice filled with such worry over your silence. You're like a puppy around Larissa, the moment she's back in your vicinity you're like a dog missing it's owner and suddenly you're all over her. Not tonight, though. Tonight you were quiet. Tonight you were staring at yourself and your scars, hating yourself like you always do.

It's only then you look up to stare at her, she's quick to be by your side her hands rough, a testament to her hardwork, yet so soft and gentle when handling you. She grabs onto your wrist and notices the fresh scar from the night before, her beautiful oceanic eyes painted with deep worry.

She takes you to your bedroom and sits you down. She's talking, but it all feels like it's underwater to you, you felt like the world and everything around you wasn't real at the moment, with nothing but the ringing in your ears distracting you. You try to make out what she's saying but ultimately give up. She's cleaning your wound, you notice, she's taken a first aid kit and she's making sure your cut is properly disinfected. Her touch is so soft and caring, it almost makes you tear up and cry. You stare at her, her eyes fixated on her task. You take a moment to admire her, her beautiful blonde hair, the way her brows furrow and her nose scrunches when she's focused.. for a moment, you're lifted from the tide and you can see clearly; you see her. Your Larissa, Your love.

When you realise those blue eyes are staring back at you, that's when you notice you seem to have regained your grasp on reality, she's looking at you with such warmth yet such worry, you feel bad for burdening her, but you've never been a burden, not to her, no. She adores you. She wishes you could see that.

"Are you okay?" Her words finally register, you blink at her, unsure what to say. Are you okay? You don't know yourself, honestly. She can see the conflict going on in your mind and hums, as if understanding something, her hand hovers over your cheek, a silent question in her eyes. You press your cheek into her palm and nuzzle into it, your eyes closing at the warmth and familiarity of her touch. Her eyes soften at that, her thumb caressing your cheek.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shake your head, finding yourself unable to speak. She nods in understanding and the two of you stay there for a while, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

Eventually, She moved you further onto the bed. Her heels were discarded somewhere across the room, her coat hanging against the headboard, you stare up at her as she situates you so that your head lay on your chest, the steady rise and fall of chest calming your nerves and anxiety that you didn't even realise was there.

Silence falls between you two again, but you don't mind at all. Her hand mindlessly draws shapes on your back with her fingers. You bury yourself in her embrace, her touch alone lifting away all your worries... well.. almost all of them. You felt the need to open up to her but you hesitate, that same old voice in the back of your head telling you not to bother her with your pathetic whines. But as you look up at her and you find her staring back at you with nothing but love and warmth.. you can't help but let the dam loose.

You lay there and open up about everything, how tired you've felt recently, how disgusting you feel especially when it comes to your scars. You want to cry, but you can't, so you just kept it all in until you couldn't anymore. As you rant, She listens to you intently, her eyes filled with nothing but understanding and care. When you end your small tangent, she brings your wrist up to her face and presses a kiss to it.

"Thank you for telling me," She whispers softly, her lips pressing against the skin of your wrist, you shiver at the contact, confused as to what she's doing. She continues to kiss your wrist.. no, your scars, you notice, and you watch in silence, your eyes curious yet filled with warmth.

She takes her time with each one, each kiss soft and meaningful. You could feel the pure love radiating off of her, it was overwhelming. It nearly made you cry, but what really did it were her next words."I know I can't do much to help you see yourself the way I see you." She mutters against your skin, her eyes reading into yours.

"But not once have I ever found you pathetic or disgusting, nor have I ever thought you were a burden." She pulls away from your wrist and caresses your cheek once again, her gaze filled with sincerity. You listen to her, clinging onto each word, the familiar feeling of warmth from her comfort already lifting the weigh on your shoulders.

"And most of all," She grabs your wrist with her free hand, her fingers gliding across the skin. "These scars... while the way they got there is.. unconventional. They're a testament to how resilient you are, how resilient you have been."

"I will never view them as disgusting, because despite everything, they still make up the person that you are, and I love you all the same. And I'll continue to do so, For as long as you'll have me."

..

Tears sting your eyes, but not in a bad way, never in a bad way with Larissa. Your heart was swelling with such gratitude and love for the woman before you. You can't help but stammer like an idiot, your tears spilling down your cheek. It was an embarrassing sight, you're sure of it, but not to her, she wipes away every tear wordlessly, no judgement or mockery in her eyes. Just pure unfiltered love, love you never recieved growing up, love you needed all this time, love you deserved, love she offered.

As you fall asleep that night with her arms wrapped around you and the steady beating of her heart lulling you to sleep, you come to the conclusion that living isn't so bad, as long as you had your Larissa.

[familyvideowithsteve]

what is the backstory behind 'dying on the inside'? like what made u decide to create such delicious pain<3

oh tara, thank you for that question because that fic is one of my favourite pieces ever, i've loved writing it so much, it's my lil guilty pleasure 🫶🏻

the answer's gonna be quite a mouthful

I never planned on writing more of it because for me it's strictly a one shot, and there's no story to tell besides what i shared

it's quite odd but i wrote that while i was writing the premises for the first part of façade back in august '22 (i had almost nothing planned out, only a sequence sticking in my head) and i had this idea of steve talking to the ghost of his lover in complete delusion from the severe lack of sleep and the alcohol, he's severely depressed and stuck in the early stages of mourning from losing her, but i knew, deep in my bones that façade would not end like that and it won't so it's like a moment in time in one timeline somewhere where his lover doesn't survive and he's so heartbroken he's destroying himself.

so dying on the inside is literally quite what the title says, showing steve in a light we've never seen before, and the way she died is so graphic, their connection so deep, they were basically soulmates, it's soul shattering and months or years after, he's still so affected by it because she's his everything, he's basically dying from the inside out.

It's so dear to me to write about mental health issues and mourning (whether it's the passing of loved ones, or relationships, or opportunities) I don't know how to not include it in what i write, it makes us so much more human and it adds more nuance to stories i feel are missing more and more, to me the beauty of human life is it's full of struggles, traumas and loss and we're still trying to find the good times, working your way out of the depth of pain is so inspiring, we deal with it however we can/learnt and i don't really believe it's that easy to heal, we have coping mechanisms, however un/healthy they are, people are so anaesthetised that compassion and patience is long forgotten and i wish it weren't that way so i write it to remind myself first that i'm not okay, i have coping mechanisms that i need to work on, i may be the villain in people's story but i don't really care about it, i want to work out of that, and even if it's slow, i am working on it, and that is perfectly fine, i wish i believed i deserved more happiness, but that's a work in progress (spoiler alert: façade's epilogue is gonna be just that, a load of in depth personal work)

[chiocchi]

Chiocchi!

Big fan of your artistry. I love your art so much! And those graphic novels you have on ao3??? Heaven sent! I use them as an imagery reference if I read any similar trope haha!

I asked the same question to leafiloaf since I love them too, but I'll be very interested to know your artistic journey if you don't mind sharing. How did you start with your art?

Tysm for being in this fandom ❤️

youknowmevj! omg thank you so much! You're too kind 😭🥺❤️❤️❤️ And yess lots of love to leafiloaf

Thanks for the ask! I've never told anyone about it and I'm so excited I'll give you so much unnecessary context. Oops long post.

My artistic journey

I've enjoyed drawing since I was little, but mostly I just drew doodles in my notebook. Anime was a big inspiration for my style and I wanted to create digital illustrations too. When I was a teenager, I tried using a mouse and a PC, and my finger and some app on my phone, but the results were always terrible. I told myself it was because I didn't have a drawing tablet, so "of course my drawings will look ugly" and stopped trying.

However, I promised a discord friend that I would do a drawing for her in December 2020. So, I downloaded this app called "Ibis Paint" on my phone and, with all my effort despite my lack of ability, I drew Harry using the app and my finger jskldhfsa

I was so hesitant and nervous about showing it to her. I could tell it wasn't pretty, just "weird and awkward", and I felt embarrassed. But she told me it was good (LIES) and somehow convinced me to share it with others on the server. Despite feeling shy, I shared it anyway. To my surprise, three people told me it was pretty! I appreciated their kindness.

It wasn't until March 2021 that I returned to drawing digitally and on a more consistent basis. I was mainly doing fanart for a game that I liked.

In May or June (I can't remember exactly), I stumbled upon an artist who created incredible art using Ibis Paint. And I realized that I didn't need a drawing tablet, just more practice and skill, because if they could do it, then I could do it too! That was the moment I began taking art more seriously (still as a hobby, though!).

Due to the pandemic, I had a lot of free time, which I used to watch a lot of tutorials, practice gesture and follow the advice of artists I liked. With every drawing I made, I could see an improvement, which motivated me even more to keep on working hard (drawing became a source of comfort during those depressing times. It was just really fun).

In late 2021, I mentioned to a childhood friend that I wanted to buy a drawing tablet, and he asked me if I wanted his old one, which I excitedly accepted. Finally, I had the tool that would make my art incredible… or so I thought! I was terrible with it. For the first few months, I preferred Ibis paint and my finger. But I eventually got the hang of it! What I love the most are the multiple brushes and pressure settings. I'm such a hoarder, even if I don't use all of them ksklajdl.

In 2022, I participated in several bigbangs and zines, but what I'm most excited to talk about is the tomarry comic that I started.

My tomarrymort art

I've read tomarrymort fics since 2017, but I wasn't active on the fandom. In 2020, I joined a writer's server (all love to Amanda) and met the friend I mentioned earlier. So technically, you could say my love for tomarrymort lead me here kek

Even though my main inspiration was a game, here is some fic fanart I made.

This is my first tomarry art (July 27th, 2021). It's a scene from Genius by the Numbers. I think it looks weird kjdshk

I also made art for A Mating of Convenience, what started in beautiful rooms, Dripping Fingers and for Ale, beloved. (I think I've never posted these before.)

Then two things happened: I saw comic on ao3 (If I'll Ever See You by festivewind) and I was like "WOW! THAT'S SO COOL" and "omg we can upload comics!"

The second thing was me being rejected as a webtoon background artist (naturally, as I wasn't good enough for the specifics) and the spite made me want to do my own so I could improve my weakness (the grind never stops 💪🔥).

I read some of my old notes for story ideas (I'm not good at writing but I still had some snippets of stories). And boom! Love triangle but the 3 of them are idiots (affectionate). Fun fact: the original version had a murder, someone in Azkaban and someone hating the other forever :D

Don't pretend started as an anonymous work because some of my friends knew my AO3 username and I was afraid of screwing up the format (I don't know html) and looking like a fool DKJALKSJL I was also afraid of possible backlash (I'm an over-thinker).

None of that happened (comments were very kind and nice!) But idk, it was nice being anon. I'm awkward and shy and I usually don't know what to say to compliments (Sometimes a "thank you" doesn't feel enough but that's all my brain can offer 😭)

Then I made some tomarry christmas art and shared it on TRoR discord server and someone asked me if I had Tumblr and I said no but that gave me the idea of making one.

Since I planned Don't pretend as being a long story, I realized it'd take me a long time to finish it and I wanted to contribute to the complete tomarrymort works! That's the reason I took a pause and made A Soulmate Like You.

Anyway, I made this tumblr on January 2023, and the plan was to fill it with art so, eventually, when I found the courage to make my works non-anon, I could link to this page. Except that I posted one drawing, and that was enough for isalisewrites to know it was me HJKASDJLA. So I stopped the anonymous thing.

I'm still not used to being "perceived" 👁️👁️ but I've learned it's not bad. People have been really kind and I think I'm less shy now! I'm very happy to be part of this fandom with lots of kind and supportive people and incredible fics and fanart <3

[twosides--samecoin]

heard it was your birthday... so here's a little doodle of my favorite Mac torture scene from Long Time Coming (festively censored) <3

SDFIGJHDFLIUGHSLDFIJKGHSDKFJDFSKGJLDJHNFB?!??!?!?!

I LOVE THIS LMAO THANK YOU SO MUCH LOL. AN HONOUR AND A PRIVILEGE, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK-

This scene was fun but also felt dangerous to write in the "should I release this" sense. I had not read anyone putting their characters through what I put RJ through and had a feeling it would not go over well. It was another in a list of reasons my fic felt to me like it wouldn't necessarily go over well with others (the amount of words and description, asking readers to imagine Fallout happening in places that aren't in-game let alone mentioned, inserting French language and bilingual conversations, starting not even with Cranky Cready but Depressed Cready because we start at Med-Tek as failure point and not anticipated story beat; hell you barely see Boston or my canon SoSu, Jack, until several chapters in) and I am happy to know it is not the case, nor did it garner much controversy at all.

Despite reservations I always set out to do things differently, trust the process and stay true to what I wanted to see in Fallout. At the end of the day I could not get the scene out of my head. It also made my story a "enemies to XYZ" story for real, it solidified a lot of nuance in my characters. Livvie in particular in doing war crimes out of, well, desperation, lack of trust in RJ's story and defence of her homeland.

Thank you thank you thank you once again @outwithfever and: a throwback to Chapter 4, Ahead By A Century - read more on AO3 here if you like!

“I don’t like doing this either,” she told him, her voice raised over his gurgling. “The next thing out of your mouth better be what the Brotherhood sent you for, you fuckin’ punk bitch-”

He raised his voice back at her. “I-I’m not fucking with them, okay? Jesus Christ, would you just listen-”

Another awful stream hit his chest and he yelped before water rushed around his face. He shook his head back and forth to avoid the water pooling in his mouth, but it didn’t help any for his nose. 

The waterfall stopped and he gasped and coughed anew. 

She allowed him to catch his breath as he took in huge, wheezing breaths, grateful for air. A minute or two passed; RJ was too scared to say much at all. 

“Where’d the tin can boys pick you up, huh?” he heard her demand as he felt his heart thump hard into his throat. “You some prairie boy they tricked into joining or some shit? How much are they paying you?” 

Unbeknownst to her, water just made him cranky. “I don’t give a shit what a prairie boy is but I bet it’s better than being a goddamn Vaultie-”

«Esti d'épais à marde! T'es si cave-»

He regretted how he said it, because it sounded a little too much like the way it felt when a Brotherhood soldier called him a local. More water. Rinse-fucking-repeat.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Peach Pit - a Magnus Archives Fic

An AU Somewhere Else - part of the Magnus Monsterverse series.

Spoilers for the whole podcast.

Something is definitely unusual about Jon's experience with the Eye.

Several cheesy sci-fi explanations and eight Jonah Magnuses later, Jon has more questions than ever - but at least it seems like he might have found a new friend.

AO3

-------

Manuela’s printout made my head spin.

If I let go, if I relaxed the willed mitosis that kept me sane—that retained me as me and not an It to It— her printout would all make sense. 

It tried—pushed that temptation before me, promised without words what utter bliss it would be to know everything here and now.

It would be bliss. I know it would. But that was not what I wanted.

Pleasure is not permission, I told It, because whether or not It understood those words, I did.

“Would you mind explaining what this is and how you obtained it?” I said.

She looked quite surprised. “You don’t just know?”

“I could.” They were all listening. I suddenly wondered if this were a test. “I have no intention of ever giving the Eye unfettered access to my mind again, however, and so, I am limited.”

“Amazing,” said Leitner, clapping his hands together and startling me. “Remarkable. I knew you’d be safe to bring here.”

“Hush,” said Gertrude. “You mean that, do you?”

So it was a test. “Yes.” 

“Even if your lover passed away again?” she said, and I didn’t care what Leitner claimed—those were the eyes of someone who would absolutely try to kill me.

But I wasn’t what I once was.

I knew fear. I certainly had plenty of my own. Yes, I was scared of Jane, of Sarah, of what they could all do.

But I was a little bit scary myself, now. Of course, I could probably still die—but I wasn’t sure how anymore.

I had to take a moment to answer. “First… are you threatening him?”

Her eyebrows rose. “No.”

“Okay. Well, there’s no reason to assume he’ll die for a very long time.”

“The Lonely does not extend lifespan,” Gertrude said.

“Yes, but he’s healthy, lacks genetic predispositions toward inheritable illnesses, and currently suffers from nothing so much as a lack of sleep.” I froze, mouth open.

Gertrude’s lips quirked. “Only that, eh? I thought you weren’t knowing things.”

“Apparently, when it’s really important, it slips through,” I said primly.

Gertrude snorted. “Still. You avoided my question.”

“No, I’m laying foundation for an answer. I’m not wracked by fear of him dying.” I stopped, swallowed, continued. “Also, I don’t think I can express how badly depressed I was when this… when he was murdered.”

His hand was my anchor.

“And a thousand years engulfed in that didn’t make it worse?”

“No, because the Eye was trying to comfort me,” I said, because it was true. “It’s stupid, though. Meant well, I truly believe, but is stupid—and so all it knew to do was remove me from the hurt.”

“Meant well?” said Gertrude with great disbelief.

“The Eye loves me. Damned if I know why,” I said.

She stared. “They don’t love people.”

“They certainly do. It just doesn’t generally turn out well for the object of that love.”

They all stared at me. Gertrude looked offended. Manuela looked fascinated. Leitner was unreadable behind his stupid green spectacles.

They were being ridiculous. “This shouldn’t be that strange,” I said. “They may not be living things like us, but they certainly have tastes and preferences.”

“I knew it! ” said Manuela, slamming her fist into her thigh.

“Manuela,” Leitner started. 

“They have tastes! Opinions! Thoughts!”

“Only in the most basic sense,” I said. “Look, we’ve dropped off the point: I wouldn’t be great if he died, no. But I wouldn’t do what I did then, either. I don’t know how much you know about what happened, but when m… when…” Martin squeezed my hand, and I could keep going. “When he died, we’d been walking for uncountable time through a living hellscape, a nightmare world in which every living thing capable of suffering did, and all their misery was shoved forcefully into my brain.”

Gertrude frowned. “Wait a moment. Are you saying the world ended before you entered your thousand year state?”

“Yes.”

She frowned harder. “Explain.” 

“When Martin died, the world already belonged to the Beholding.”

“How?”

“I was tricked by a man named Jonah Magnus,” I said.

Manuela stiffened.

“What?” Oh, no, I wasn’t letting that go. “What?”

“We just found one,” she said.

I stared at her. “One… what?”

“I mean, we know of eight,” she said, glancing between Gertrude and Leitner and me. “But there’s one who’s actually ready to fetch. His world’s ended. His Fear is feeding on him, and he’s not having a good time. So, I mean. What do you mean, he tricked you?”

So I didn’t know what my face did.

I felt pale. I felt… sort of tingly and numb ( vasoconstriction, the narrowing of blood vessels due to emotional stress). I realized I wasn’t breathing only because Martin came around, knelt in front of me, and cupped my face.

“Hey,” he said.

Him. His eyes. Him. I melted into him, against him, clung to him like a rock in a storm. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

I was shaking. “You don’t understand who he is.”

Martin knew I wasn’t talking to him.

“We do,” said Gertrude. “Possibly more than you, since you’ve only encountered one of him.”

“No, you don’t know who he is,” I said, sitting up, glaring over Martin’s shoulder. “You don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“Ending the world, evidently,” said Leitner. “Like you.”

“No, not like me! At least the damage I did, I did with my own damn hands!” I snapped.

“Shhh. Jon. I get it. They will too, in time. Shhh. It’s not that one. It’s not that Jonah.” Martin hesitated. “I mean. They said everyone in your world was dead, so it couldn’t be that Jonah, could it?”

“What happened to him in your timeline, Martin? When you had to kill me.”

Manuela flinched at the words—and that was right. That’s how it should be. She had a human heart, and I really, really liked her.

“You killed him,” Martin whispered. “You stabbed him and took his place.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh,” I said after a long moment.

He watched me. Watching for… I don’t know. Some response.

My face burned. “I didn’t stab him.”

“What did you do, then?” said Leitner, sounding absolutely fascinated.

“I ate him.”

“You what? ” said Gertrude.

“I mean… not literally.” Fuck it. I pressed my face to Martin’s shoulder. I didn’t want to see how anyone was looking at me now.

“How?” whispered Martin.

Him, I could answer. Him, I would answer. “After you died. After I… lost myself completely. After I turned to the Eye, because… everything else was already gone. When it had me, when it… eased me. We went to the Panopticon.”

“We?”

“I... I suppose it was an I, but not really. It was we.”

“Go on,” murmured Martin.

I sighed. “Jonah was fine with it. If that matters.”

“Fine with what?” said Leitner.

“Becoming one with the Eye. That’s what he thought of it as.”

“And… what did you think of it as?” said Leitner. “What did you even do?”

“I don’t know how to explain that,” I mumbled into Martin’s shoulder. “The Eye ate him. I was the Eye. But we didn’t literally eat? His body fell and rotted. I don’t know.”

“That’s absurd,” said Leitner.

“It’s incredible,” said Manuela. “Jon. I need to pick your brain. Please.”

I sighed. “I don’t know anything, Manuela. Not really.”

“But your experiences, your impressions—”

“Manuela,” Leitner began in a chiding tone.

“Please, Jon,” said Manuela. “I’ll pay you.”

I paused. “Shit. We do need money here, don’t we?”

Gertrude laughed. She sounded like she hadn’t expected to. “You were floating for a while, weren’t you?”

My face burned again. “Oh, yes. Freed from the demands of Capitalism. How very blessed I was,” I drawled.

“Please,” said Manuela again.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Leitner said.

Maneula flipped him off. He sighed.

Right. She reminded me of Sasha, and had summarily gone from liked to among my favorite people territory. “If you really think it’ll do any good, yes. I will,” I said. “Ah… about Jonah…”

“Let’s discuss that as part of everything,” she said. “Obviously, we don’t want Jonah here if he’s a danger.”

“He is,” I said.

“Let’s find out together! Nothing’s decided yet, after all. Here.” She dug into her pocket and produced a business card. “We’ve barely even talked about you yet. Listen—I have satellite feeds monitoring everything. Surges of power (which are observable via atmospheric and magnetic disturbance, heat, radiation, and more, believe it or not), increases in psychological events or unexpected deaths… you have no idea.”

“It sounds like a police state,” I said before I could help myself.

She shook her head. “I’m the only one who gets to see all of it—as annoyed as that makes some people —and I don’t have any authority to act on it, nor the power to do so even if I did.”

I stared at her business card; I was still draped on Martin, and I did not give a damn who saw. (Maybe a little. Maybe I did it at them, as well.) “Do I… call you?” All it had was her name and a number.

“Yes! I’ll come get you.”

“Portal travel?”

“Well, I’m based out of the Alps, so yes, you’ll prefer that.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “So. Tell me what happened. What I did. Cliff’s Notes.”

She looked thrilled. “I’m calling it prisming.”

“Weird nomenclature? You?” said Gertrude, dryly. “Thought I’d never see the day.”

“Prisming,” said Manuela, like tuning back in after a commercial break. “Of course, you understand the concept—when light, passing through glass, slows and bends at different wavelengths, separating into the colors that make up light, which we normally can’t see.”

Martin snorted. “Are we really doing that goofy sci-fi movie trope?”

I pulled back to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

His smile was so adorable I wanted to wrap it around my heart like a blanket. “We have got to fix your viewing habits. These movies—they’ll  be talking about something wild like the loss of Earth’s magnetic field, and then they’ll demonstrate it by roasting a peach pit with hairspray and a lighter.”

I laughed.

I laughed hard. I couldn’t help it. It had been so long since I’d encountered anything so silly. “What! What? You’re joking!”

“Not even a little,” he said, utterly pleased with himself.

“You ought to already know about such things,” said Gertrude warily.

It was another test, but I was still laughing and couldn’t be bothered being intimidated this time. “The Eye knows everything, but doesn’t interact with it. That’s a human response.” I wiped my eyes. My smile faded. “I told you the condition it had me in. Believe me, I spent no time with nonsense like that. I would have missed Martin too much.”

Except… It did care about things now, didn’t It?

It was amused by Brother Love. This was new; I could feel it, feel that this development was relatively recent. How could this be? 

I was not going to volunteer the question. Not yet.

“Hm,” Gertrude said. “And do you have the memoirs of all It knew?”

“I honestly don’t know. I feel like I’ve woken from a coma—which I have done, by the way. You’re not… you feel very weird for a while. You are yourself, but not.”

“You were in a coma?” said Manuela. “Tell me about it?”

“We haven’t even finished the current conversation.”

“I don’t think we’ll finish this one for a while,” said Manuela, back on track. “I haven’t figured out how you did it. To be honest, I assumed you’d understand this,” she said, holding up the printout, “and could help explain it to me.”

“Oh.” Disappointed. Embarrassed. “I could try to help?”

Leitner sighed. “Really, Manuela?”

“Well, this is quite new,” she said. “None of the Eye avatars have done anything like this before.”

I blinked at her. “They haven’t?”

“No. It’s one of the reasons I want to investigate your theory about the Eye liking you. That could be what makes this different.”

“But then what are other avatars like?”

“Lenses. Magnification, clarification, seeing through whatever to the truth of things.”

“Peach pits,” Martin mumbled, and set me off again.

“Well,” I finally said. “There may be a way to access all that knowledge, but right now, I don’t know how to do it safely. The Eye is too used to having all of me. It’s a fire hydrant, not a faucet.” I grinned at Martin.

He grinned back and rolled his eyes.

“Right, well,” said Manuela. “What you did is somehow break the hunter—who is effective because they are basically combinations of various avatars—into individual parts. That’s not a little thing.”

“Wait. I did? And they’re what, merged ? Like some sort of Flesh abomination?”

“Not at all. It’s much more homogeneous than that.”

“They’re working together?” Horror erased what amusement I had.

“Or being forced to.”

I stared at her. “Why would someone do that? We’re up against some… mad scientist of the Fears? How is that even possible?”

“We don’t know, but it seems like that, doesn’t it? It’s the reason Jurgen decided to bring people like you here who’d do anything to stop it—it was already happening when we arrived. Otherwise, we’d have to watch the world end again.”

Martin’s eyes were huge. It seemed I wasn’t the only one hearing this for the first time.

“Are you going to tell him everything?” said Leitner, dry.

“Am I going to tell… an avatar of the Eye…” Manuela began with such sarcasm that I think even Tim would’ve been impressed.

“Yes, all right, fair point,” Leitner said, sounding pouty.

He probably wanted to feel important by doling things out. That, or he didn’t trust me. Well, that went both ways. “And why are they called hunters, then?” I said. “Is that the primary Fear they’re made of, or something?”

“No, that was just the name sticking before we could be clever about it,” she said.

That made sense. Humans did that sort of thing—not that I was about to share such an observation. It would make me sound too far outside humanity.

I wasn’t. I was still me. I had to believe that.

“Jurgen, I’m done here,” said Gertrude. “If there’s nothing else for me to do…?”

“You are?” He sounded so surprised.

“Yes. I have come to my conclusion.”

I peered at her over Martin’s shoulder.

“You have?” said Leitner.

“I’ll send you my report, but some of us don’t have the luxury of sitting around in plush chairs all day, staring at stained glass.”

I couldn’t help snorting. 

“Everyone is in such a mood today,” said Leitner, and waved his hand at her dismissively. “I want that report.”

Gertrude waved back—with far more disdain than he’d managed—and simply left without another word to us.

“Was that good?” I murmured.

“Hell if I know,” Martin murmured back. “She didn’t come stare at me in any of my meetings.”

“Well, you not knowing alters things,” Manuela said, “but it’s not a dead end. Give me a few days to correlate and collect more data, then let’s talk.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“I think the question, Jon, is whether you can do it again,” said Leitner.

“I don’t know. I’d advise not making any plans around an incident hat could’ve been a fluke,” I said.

“Do you think it was?” Leitner said evenly.

“I don’t know. It could have been some lingering effect of… everything. It’s a risk. Don’t plan around it.”

He huffed. “Fine. But you could save lives.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll figure something out—but I won’t risk anyone in the process,” I said.

And this time, I received the dismissive hand-wave. “If there’s nothing else, Manuela?”

She grinned at me. “A week.”

“A week. I’ll call.”

She stood, gathered her lawn chair, looked around as though to be certain she hadn’t dropped anything, and opened a portal.

I almost saw how she did it—her lenses example, seeing where she wanted to go, and in the process, tunneling a way there.

Was that good? Did it damage something? I had no idea.

She was gone, and it was significantly less comfortable with only Leitner staring at us. “You really are proving to be as interesting as I’d hoped,” he said.

“I… you’re welcome?” I said, uncertain as to the pleasantries in this situation.

“We’ll obviously need to dive into this further, but both Manuela and Gertrude seem to think you are no threat to us—which was my main concern.”

“And you’d have done what, if they thought otherwise?” I said.

“Well, I don’t know. We’d attempt capture and rehabilitation.”

“Like Nikola.”

“Yes. Taking your life would be the absolute last step. We’ve had enough death. All of us.”

I needed to see Nikola for myself before determining whether that truly was the better option. “I don’t intend to die or harm anyone. I just want to live, and I don’t mean mere survival. All of this took my life from me.”

“I understand,” he said, and sounded like he did. “It’s what they all want, and I try to give opportunity for.”

It was awkward now for a different reason. I wished I could just believe him; it would be lovely if he were honest. 

And maybe he was, but that would have to be proven over time. “Are we done?”

“Yes. Oh—stop and see Agnes on your way out. She’ll give you a lunch voucher.”

Oh. All right.

We held hands and left.

Agnes was indeed there—her hair cut short, dressed as though it were 35 Celsius in here. She smiled; she eyed me in a way I was coming  to recognize as Oh, I killed you in my world, and handed us little coupons for lunch across the street.

We both knew we’d be saving those coupons for later.

I waited until we were outside again before speaking. “How can you stand me?”

“What?” Martin said, startled.

My voice shook. “They all kill me. Even you had to kill me. I drove everyone to it. How can you even—”

He kissed me. Arms around, holding tight so I could not blow apart. “I didn’t want to. You didn’t drive me to it. It was the Web’s plan from start to finish.”

I stared at him.

“She was trying to eacape,” he said. “But to do that, the Eye had to be lured to another world—and that could only happen with you as both bait and bear trap. We both fell for it, Jon. It wasn’t your fault.”

I stared more. “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“I did. If it was your fault, I’d tell you. But all you did was be yourself, not know what you were doing, and be used. By everyone. I’m not too happy about eight Jonah Magnuses, either.”

“Maybe we can put them all in a room, and they’ll eat each other,” I muttered.

“I’m pretty sure with that many of them together, they would just rule the world.”

“Or wreck it.” I leaned in. “I suppose it might not be like that. Are different versions of people different here?

“Wildly. We saw the Evans earlier, remember? One’s full Lonely; the other went Desolation.”

“Damn,” I said, trying to picture it.

“They get along like siblings—because they just do—but they are very different people.”

I made a face like tasting something awful. “I suppose I’ll at least look at him. Jonah.”

“You don’t have to. He’s not your responsibility.”

“I know him better than anyone here. I do have to, Martin.”

And Jared pulled up. I hadn’t even noticed Martin messaging him. “Right,” Jared said, rising impossibly huge from his vehicle like all the passengers of a clown car in one, and opening the back door for us.  He eyed Martin. “This’s what you wanted, eh? No wonder I weren’t your type.” And he laughed wetly.

Martin shrugged. “Always was. Not your fault.”

“Eh,” said Jared. “Killed him anyway, my time. Don’t feel like I owe nothing bad now.”

“How did you…” I said.

“Got these letters, yeah? An’ your picture. Told me where you’d be. Got into the Institute and there you were—but not for long.”

“Jonah Magnus again,” I murmured to Marrin.

“Coincidence.”

I was beginning to wonder. “I need to talk to Jane.”

“Sure? Let’s do lunch at home, first.”

“Do… do I have food?” I said, eyes wide.

Martin laughed. “I do. It’s time you came to my flat, anyway.”

“You gonna get in or not?” Jared said.

We got in.

I kept Martin’s hand between mine. “Thank you for being there.”

He just held me.

We were silent the rest of the ride back. And nothing was stopping us. Nothing was caging us in, or chaining us down. I still felt increasingly trapped, and I had no idea what to do.

The Eye tried to tell me about Jared’s secret love affair with some Corruption avatar, but I didn’t let that get too far.

Its delight unnerved me. It had changed. 

And I was beginning to wonder if I was the reason it had. 

[ftpverse]

FtPverse Daily Signup Sheet

interested in having aproximately 2000 words of my KH fic FtPverse delivered to your email inbox every other day or so, so you can book club it along with me and a handful of other people??

- - > sign up here!! < - -

starting: February 1st, 2023!

~more info below~

what even is ftpverse??

FtPvese is my KH fic that’s primarily about Repliku getting a second chance at life and learning how to be loved, but also about a lot of other things; traumatized teens learning how to heal, kh’s clone narative turned to the max, replicas, and a totally unique clone of Sora coping with wanting to be his own person. you know, normal kingdom hearts stuff.

you can read the whole promo post I made about it here

.

logistics notes

- we’re doing a manual email list because it’s the best option for getting the actual prose in your email exactly like dracula daily did, rather than having to click on links

- this will probably take about 2 years to do, becuase 1million words is... a lot of words... I could only manage it in one year if I sent out an email Every Single Day, and I had enough people tell me that’s too frequent for them that I’m not gonna do it! we’re doing every other day instead, and maybe even take holidays off.

- 3000 words might be a more accurate average, but very rarely are there chapters over 5000 words, and most 3000 word emails are going to be because i combined two 1.5k chapters into one email (trying to get this done in 2 years, not 4!). chapters do get progressively longer over time.

- I’ll probably be sending out short little intro thoughts on each email (like, three sentences, max,) just for ~connection~ (and bc I like babbling) instead of me just. tossing you the prose uncommentated. author’s notes....

- because of this, I think I’ll probably be sending a copy of each email to ftpverse.dreamwidth.org as well for archival purposes.... so if you really really don’t want to give me your email, you can just subscribe to this journal. (I might not actually do this, but if I change my mind, i WILL tell you!)

- since ftpverse.dreamwidth.org is ALSO a community, it’s open to members joining and posting entries about current events as of [wherever we are in the ftpdaily posting] . like, AO3 comments are a perfectly valid place to have disccusions as well, but. fun bonus option.....

.

ftpverse general content warnings

> ftpverse is a story about abuse / trauma recovery. physical and emotional abuse are both shown in flashback, and repliku is regularly put in situations that trigger him. (sexual abuse does not happen anywhere, so it is free of that.)

> three of the main characters are suicidal; they work through it and come out better at the end, but dead inside is a rough one until that point.

> there is an attempted suicide on screen; the character lives, but the details are spoilers. it and another spoilery content warning will be linked below.

> several characters struggle with depression / a lack of self worth. they get better, but dead inside is a rough one, because there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for most of those characters until all that remains.

> nothing’s fair is a terminal illness analogue; this is the other one that i have spoiler elaboration for

> becuase i thought i was cishet when i started writing it, it’s a little heteronormative at the start. it’ll get better.

> i started writing ftpverse in 2010, when i was 13, and finished it 8 years later. do with that information what you will, but mostly i’m saying the technical writing quality WILL improve, you just have to give it time.

> spoiler content warnings are here

[bittersweetbark]

I seem to have an elevated need to communicate my head stuff today, so here comes the next manifesto:

my headcanon Emhyr

First of all, a very strong appeal is the "worst father ever" to "mutual loving relationship" development with Ciri. It's central to my needs because my father was shit and actively despised me from about elementary school age on. He's been dead for 23 years but even if he was still alive I don't think he'd ever have made an effort to change his attitude towards me. So this is like kids of divorced parents watching Parent Trap on loop, I drink up the fantasy of paternal love. Not the first time either, was very much into Fringe once.

I also massively project on Emhyr with the lack of social skills. Yeah he has major trauma but for me he's also never been ye olde neurotypical person. He masks and The Emperor is his main mask. He was told he was to be emperor so when his world shattered into pieces that's what he kept clinging to and when he made it work, he just emperored as hard as he could (which is brutally hard). I've worked into my current WIP that he expected people to follow orders without taking into consideration how they'd do it, to explain his reckless disregard of sending rabid bloodhounds after his child.

The Emperor persona comes with strict social protocols and scripts so that's a very good mask. (I.e. "if I say x, you'll have to say y, I know how to handle this, yay") It tickles me that Geralt just never correctly responds to those protocols, doesn't bow, doesn't defer, says exactly what he's thinking. So for me that results in Emhyr getting little "tilt" signs in his eyes and he reacts with anger and irrational decisions (trying to explain away TW3 stuff here). And in my HC also with fascination - because I can and no-one can stop me.

In "The Gentleman..." I made Geralt learn that Emhyr's bluntness most often is just him being himself, and I like it that they are very similar in that but sometimes lack the selfawareness to see that.

Geralt thought, a little giddy, that he wasn't sure if that was a deliberate display of dominance or just his usual blunt self, but either was good and there was a lot of overlap. He probably was so very good at the first because of the latter.

I've also written him as depressed... (because Geralt left without saying bye)

"Emhyr felt like the day had gone on for several years. One of those days. Maybe it would be good to shove it all at Cirilla and... leave. Die, probably."

...and demi-ace (in the "Boxed" stories, which could be better, well whatever) - again: because I could.

I think it's funny how he actually tends to fuck up CONSTANTLY, both in the books and TW3, but we still usually eat up the "brilliant strategist" BS in our fics, like we're falling for his propaganda even though we're not even in his fictional universe. He gets kinda vetinaried, and I don't think it's just the voice. But alright, I'm there for it and I'm participating.

I'm not fine with romanticising colonialism though, it's a major beef I have with the Astolat stories. Emhyr's done fucked up shit, the wars are absolutely part of it and he has not "liberated" the invaded countries to let them "participate in the imperial glory", ffs, colonialism people, I can't even with the fash undertones of "bringing civilisation". My approach is: Ciri's doing things better now but no apologies for Emhyr's warmongery. Little meow meow: yes. Has done nothing wrong: no.

Alright, I guess that answers all the questions nobody ever had.

[tsarinatorment]

Ill give TSATS this one specific thing: Will having seasonal affective disorder did not occur to me at ALL before I started the book, but regardless of how I felt about the book overall, that was definitely a "Why didn't I think of that. Of course that makes perfect sense." moment for me. A child of the sun god with the specific type of major depressive disorder where a lack of sunlight causes you to experience severe depressive/lethargic episodes? Okay that one's fair.

It does make sense as a concept; I've seen fics roll with that idea before and it is a neat little idea - unfortunately, in the book that very quickly fell by the wayside alongside anything else that could possibly mean Will doesn't have a perfect charmed life. So quickly, in fact, that I never actually really thought that the book was seriously implying it in the first place - hell, if it was, where was it once they were in the Underground and then Tartarus? It would explain why Will was on edge (beyond the fact that he was literally being killed by the environment), but we're only ever told by the narrative that he's being an asshole (even though he never is, but that's a whole other complaint I have with TSATS), despite the earlier hint that would have worked so well - so I can only assume that it was not, in fact, Mark's aim to imply that Will has it. ((In fact, I believe that in their recent interview they stated that they only gave Will one of those because they used to have one - they never acknowledged the idea that Will might have SAD, which would sadly confirm that it was never their intent))

Will being prepared enough to have a sun orb for Tartarus is one of the things that actually made sense to me - Will's a practical and pretty self-aware kid, and while he (and Chiron) seriously screwed up a lot of the packing, that actually harked back to the prepared Will Solace we saw on the quest in TON - but like most of TSATS, the little backstory detail added in didn't... actually... add up?

It also doesn't actually match with TOA - we see Will in the middle of winter there, but we never get any indication that he's struggling because of that - and as flawed as Apollo's narration is when it comes to himself, he's always super-aware of his children and gives us very accurate descriptions of what's going on with them, their little nervous ticks and the like. It would also have made a lot of sense, if they did have seasonal depression, that he would be feeling incredibly guilty about it, perhaps even thinking it's even worse because he's not the sun right then, he can't even try to alieviate it. Apollo's determined to tell us how terrible a parent he is (even though he's not, for a god) and that would have been such an obvious thing to use, even tying in to his own woes about being mortal, that I'd say its lack of acknowledgement of TOA is a strong indication that the three kids in camp during winter, at the least, don't suffer from it.

[starsarefire824]

I'm that anon that started your fic today and I just read chapter 6 and omg... omfg... I stayed 5 minutes staring at my screen.

The angst, the way i can understand that everyone is right and wrong at the same time?Lucas has all the right to feel hurt with Mike because it's implied that Lucas was talking to Mike about Max and how he feels about her and in Lucas POV Mike was acting behind his back and I understand Mike because he was so confused and he doesn't even know what made him and Max do that anyway. But Lucas was so wrong for the way he said those things and the fact that Mike was drunk and Mike said that disgusted thing about El and god how i loved that punch.

At this point, ngl I'm with the party in this one. While I feel sorry for Mike and understand there is a lot inside his head right now, that doesn't give him the right to hurt his friends, he needs to have more responsible regarding of the others feelings like... he knows Will loves him but keeps giving him missed signals, giving him hope without even consider what this may be doing with Will? I'm glad Will stood up for himself. I'm so mad at him right now, not because of what happened with Max but how he is acting towards everyone. Like Lucas said to him, he can't keep hurting people just because he hates himself.

And... Wtf El? If I was Nancy i would glare at her saying "I don't care how powerful you are and what you can do with it. Do something like that to my brother ever again and I will kill you myself".

Anyway im loving it, it's so good 😭

AAAAH SO glad you're liking it anon! I am so stoked you decided to try out the first couple of chapters!

And WOO BOY, lol. I totally agree! It's hard when you can kinda see where everyone is coming from, but still find some of their choices severely lacking! Lucas is right, Mike is so wrapped up in his own inner turmoil that he can't see how the way he acts hurts Will. He'd convince himself that the sky is fucking purple if it meant that he wouldn't have to look himself in the eye and accept himself for who he is. But, also, it's like....I get it Mike. He's very repressed, it's the 80s, he's very young, he's dealing with his depression and anxiety on top of it. etc etc. It's a lot. And Will, as we have learned so far, has confided in Dustin and Lucas and obviously El, but he's been pretty quiet regarding Mike. Sure, it's obvious to everyone else, but I think, without words, Mike could find any little thing to convince himself that it's all in his head. But that doesn't excuse his actions. And it DOESN'T excuse what he said at El. That had everything to do with his self-hatred and little to do with how he actual feels about her.

And El! I mean, I get it, girl, but yeah...her reaction after the punch is pretty insane. But, I feel like it's pretty canon that when El is hurt or having trouble processing her emotions, it's pretty typical for her to respond with anger, and a lot of times that ends up in slightly extreme use of her powers. I haven't really explored that part of her personality in a fic before, so I thought it would be fun/interesting to do that here. Anyway, thanks for giving it a shot, and even though Madwheeler wasn't necessarily your thing, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! Thanks for the lovely ask and thanks for ranting to me all your thoughts! I love it so much!!!! ❤︎❤︎❤︎

[thaleleah]

I can see Coryo always in the library trying to study but keeps getting distracted by librarian reader. Maybe hoping that she would come over to help him study by taking up the space beneath the desk to help urge him along for all his hard work and effort. Maybe he's so head over heels obsessed that he's so needy and keeps needing to run to the bathroom every time he watches her lean over the front desk or reach up on her tip toes to place a book away on the highest shelf. Or maybe he's more angry about the distraction and aggressive about it, thinking about all the places he can fuck her in the library and make her pay for being such a distraction to him and his studies. He could corner her in a deserted part of the library and fuck her against a bookcase 👀 Plenty of delicious options

THIS. WAS. TOO. BEAUTIFUL 🩷 the fucking her against the bookcase just made me cum giggle 🥰

Honestly, its just same shit, different day. Tons of people are so tired of it tho and they're legitimately traumatized with how bad the trolls and bullies have gotten that a lot of people have deactivated or are taking a break until A3 comes out so everything is kind of in a lull and there's a severe lack of active people and new content so even tho I love Avatar with my whole heart, its kind of hard to stay excited.

These people are so fucking bored and sad with their own pathetic lives that they need to come online and bully and harass people. And all because of something that is fictional 🤦🏻‍♀️

We love a bad booyyyyyyy 🥵 I don't even care that he's in prison, I'll break in there just to get to him. Just put us in the same cell together, I can take him (not in a fight)

I seriously need to get fucked nonconed by him HARD in that prison cell 🥵

Also, how are you doing ml? 🩷

THIS. WAS. TOO. BEAUTIFUL 🩷 the fucking her against the bookcase just made me cum giggle 🥰

Me tooooo lol. I need like an entire month uninterrupted from life so I can write everything I want to write cause this fic/chapter every 4 months thing is not working for me

These people are so fucking bored and sad with their own pathetic lives that they need to come online and bully and harass people. And all because of something that is fictional 🤦🏻‍♀️

FACTS! There's literally no need for it. It's so unnecessary.

I seriously need to get fucked nonconed by him HARD in that prison cell 🥵

That's all I'm gonna be thinking about while watching the movie

Also, how are you doing ml? 🩷

I'm doing okay! Stressing a little with the upcoming holidays so everything is a little all over the place but I should have the day tomorrow all to myself to relax and hopefully get some writing done. Writing honestly really is my happy place so I get so depressed when I can't do it. I've been trying to shop to get ideas on what I can get people for Christmas, but literally no one wants to tell me what they want so I'm just scouring the internet and going to stores like "what do i buy?!?!" I hate shopping for things last minute but it always seems to happen lol.

I've been searching for new recipes to try tho on Pinterest and TikTok and I've found some yummy looking ones that I'm excited to try. That's about it lol

How about you, babes? 🧡

[mdhwrites]

Have you read The Raven & The Owlet? Very good very long Lilith & Luz fic by Soulfyre, Lumischa endgame

So I'm going to make this a sad one. I don't have to. My response could just be "Yay, Lumischa! But I haven't read it, sorry and it being long means I'm unlikely to get to it." But... I haven't properly finished a story in six years that wasn't my own. At least. And if that sounds insane to you, well... Have you ever read one of my blogs and just gone "Turn your brain off, Michael. Why can't you just sit back and enjoy?" And that's a fair response. Problem is my brain NEVER turns off. It never shuts up. It never has for my entire life and is probably something attributed to me being autistic. When I was young, books were actually somewhat of an escape from this. I could picture the worlds, get deeply invested and love what I read. I read so much that I often got told by teachers not to read and walk before proving that I was more aware of my surroundings than my peers because I learned how to read and walk. I did pretty well in Battle of the Books and acrewed a knowledge of writing from those years. Then when I was almost 18, I began writing and realized I loved it. It was my passion. At the same time, I was finally getting into fandom and enjoying the analyses videos put out by the brony community (MLP was my first and only other fandom I've truly been a part of besides TOH, take that as you will) and that fed my analytical side. Worse yet, reading takes time and I found I wanted to put that energy more into writing. And then came the coup de gra. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. So now I had a brain that couldn't shut up, hated myself, worried about everything, and could never stop considering things from a partially analytical viewpoint. And writing was my passion and what I was honing my craft with. I don't watch much media. I watch streamers and let's players. I can't criticize unscripted content that is just a person. I hate media, I don't hate people. That's because I can't HANDLE media all the time. I tried getting into Wednesday and had to take multiple breaks because the show made me so upset. My lack of much to say critically about Amphibia besides it being very good is probably part of why I fail to connect to it as I did with TOH. And in general, it's just hard for me to enjoy most things and if that sounds miserable, I AGREE. And writing is where I'm most severe, especially now that I'm at a level where fan editors don't usually have anything useful to say about my works unless it's a blatant error that comes from my hands going too fast. I tried helping someone recently and took ten minutes getting through the first paragraph because I had so much to say about why I suggested minor shifts. I will find every little thing needling into my brain while reading something and while I can tell I've relaxed, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to work with another author on a project, that side of me is still there. And that amount of time and focus is deeply triggering for me. It's part of why I don't do self edits. I literally can't spare the time if I ever want to write. And none of this is happy. I don't like using this as an excuse. I want to be a part of writer communities. I want to help people take the same route I did in learning to write. To give back like others gave to me. I just... can't. Not without getting into a really bad mood or just having a complete mental breakdown. And I'm sorry about that because I'd love to be able to discuss and highlight fandom ideas and works here. It just isn't something that's going to happen until I have more peace in my own mind.