#even though i have never written any sort of fanfiction before

[operation-penguin]

#that’s it I’m doing it myself

then do it. lmao.

One of the things I’ve always wished to see in the tpom fandom is having a bit of diversity in their human designs, and maybe give them an Au or two

because yes I do adore the suits stuff, nice as hell, me love, it’s one of the best things that have happened to humanity but WHY CANT I HAVE MORE AU��S PEOPLE

[spencerreidsreads]

He didn’t have to say it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: So immersed in your painting, you forget to take a break to stretch your legs. Aaron helps out with the pain that comes from it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, mainly fluff!!

Word count: 1.7k

*based on THIS request*

AN: Hi! I’ve never written fanfiction of any sort in my life before, but I really wanted to give it a go. I’d love to know what you think, including any criticisms (I don’t mind criticism, I want to learn how to get better) If you enjoy please like, reblog and comment! If even anyone enjoys this piece it would encourage me to try again. Thank you so much

*also this is not proof read - I’m too embarrassed to go through it again. So please let me know if there are any mistakes!*

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

A flowing river of blue, the smell off wildflowers blowing in the breeze, and the chirping of birds flying overhead. And then… pain? No longer were you in a calm meadow garden, outside of a homey cottage. Instead you are sat alone, inside of your art room, suddenly aware of the pain in your legs.

You had been so immersed in finishing the last details of the painting you had started weeks ago, that you had lost track of time. You had been staring at it so intently, trying to look for flaws to perfect, it had almost felt like you were there. You hadn’t been at home just then, you were transported into your work of art relaxed and undisturbed within the canvas.

It was light outside when you began working. You remembered hearing the sound of people strolling the streets and children playing in the nearby park. Now however, the sky was beginning to darken and the streets were almost silent, other than the sound of the odd car driving past. The outside world was proof enough that you had been sat too long, without a single break to stretch your legs.

Had you not been so wrapped up in your painting, you would’ve remembered to take a walk or go for a snack to prevent the intense pain you were currently feeling. Aaron always reminded you to do so.

Speaking of Aaron, you desperately hoped he would be home soon, you knew the pain would only intensify once you started moving around, and you wanted nothing more than for him to be there to comfort you. He was so wonderfully helpful when you needed comfort. He was your rock and no matter how you were feeling, he always managed to make you feel somewhat better. He had researched the best ways to reduce the pain you often felt and despite how tired he may be from work, he always made the time to make sure you were safe and content.

Stretching out a paint speckled arm, you reached for your phone prepared to text Aaron to see if he would be home soon, he was due back to his evening. But once again he proved to be the best husband you could ask for, as not even a second after grabbing your phone, you heard the front door opening. Perfect timing.

The sound of the door shutting quietly, a bag hitting the ground and the locks of the door being set, you knew it was your husband finally back from the week long case he had been on with the team.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was soft and carried some tiredness with it, you knew this had been a tough case for him and immediately felt guilty for wanting his comfort and attention when he had only just returned home. You knew how hard he worked and didn’t want to burden him. So instead you decided you would greet your husband and try your best to hide the pain as not to worry him. Though with a skilled profiler as a husband, you knew this was wishful thinking.

When you went to stand, you hissed as an intense pain shot through your knees, causing them to buckle. Luckily, Aaron had come in search of you, having not heard a reply when he called out for you. Just as you were about to fall back to the ground you had previously been occupying, you immediately felt arms wrap around your frame, engulfed in the scent of your husbands cologne.

“Hey, take your time. It’s ok let me help you”. There goes your plan of hiding the pain. Aaron immediately knew what was wrong and slowly supported you to stand. Once you were fully elevated he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding most of your weight off of your knees. Despite the fact that Aaron repeatedly told you to stretch your legs to prevent this from happening, he wasn’t going to lecture you. You were in pain and he just wanted to bring you comfort, so he didn’t say anything. He just held you close and softly began to play with your hair the way that you liked.

The mixture of love you felt from Aaron’s care and the pain you were feeling in your legs caused tears to appear in your waterline. Aaron immediately shifted into gear, wanting to reduce the pain as much as possible, “how about we take a little walk hm? Just around the apartment. Give your legs a chance to stretch and I’ll tell you all about how much I missed you while I was gone?” You smiled and nodded in response through the tears. He always knew how to make you feel better.

Aaron didn’t rush you, he didn’t leave you to take care of yourself. Instead he lovingly wrapped an arm around your waist and let you set the pace as you walked out of your art room and into the kitchen. Though this caused the pain to intensify, you knew that in the long run it would help. So as you grimaced and slowly treaded through the pain, Aaron kept to his word and informed you of how awful it was to be away from you for the week. You laughed as he mentioned that he was caught looking at the picture of you he kept in his wallet by Morgan and he was teased by the team for the rest of the case. He told you that instead of ordering his original coffee from the coffee shop near the precinct, he ordered your favourite drink. It was too sweet for him and didn’t wake him up as much as he liked, but it made him feel closer to you.

As you approached the front door on your walk, near where he’d left his bag, Aaron reached inside and hid his hands behind his back, something grasped tightly in his fist.

“After we wrapped up the case I saw these in a store window and they made me think of you. One for me and one for you”. Aaron brought his hand in front of you both and opened it, revealing 2 key rings that looked to be a matching pair. One of them was a key shape, and the other a locket. You knew these weren’t the kind of thing Aaron cared for at all, in fact he found them extremely cheesy. But he knew you loved small things like this and just wanted to see you smile.

And smile you did. You looked from the keyrings in Aaron’s large hand, then back up to his eyes, a large grin on your face. You couldn’t believe the reputation Aaron had at work as the stoic grouchy boss. How could anyone describe this man (who was currently staring at you with a soft smile on his face and some tacky keyrings in his hand) as anything other than perfect? That’s what he was to you. Perfect. He was always thinking of you and you could not be more grateful.

“I love them” you whispered, Aaron didn’t respond, he just looked lovingly into your eyes and continued along with you on your walk to the living room. At this point, whilst your legs still ached, you found it hard not to focus on how happy you were with your partner. It was hard not to be happy around him. Your tears had eased up and had instead been replaced with a loving stare directed at your husband.

Once you had done a lap of the apartment, Aaron suggested a bath together to soothe your joints, which you quickly agreed to. He sat you on the side of the bathtub as he messed with the taps and added some bubbles, just the way you liked it. Once the bath was ready he held your hand and helped you in, slipping in himself afterwards, your back leaning against his chest. Not many words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say ‘I love you so much’, ‘thank you for loving me’, ‘I’m so grateful to have you in my life’. Instead, Aaron softly hummed as he gently scrubbed away the paint from your body and placed soothing kisses along the back of your neck. You felt so safe and at home here within his arms.

Once the water began to turn cold, you and Aaron stepped out of the bathtub and he wrapped a towel around you.

“Your painting looked beautiful by the way” he whispered as you both prepared to brush your teeth and get settled for bed.

Despite being together for 7 years, he still made you feel giddy with his compliments. Turning to face him, a small thank you passed your lips. He was always so supportive of whatever hobby you picked up and loved to shower you in the compliments he believed you so deeply deserved.

The two of you soon got settled into bed and Aaron wrapped you into his arms, “how are you feeling honey? Any better?” he questioned.

Placing a soft kiss to his bare chest, you sighed in sleepy contentment before nodding your head. “You always make me feel better.”

“I just wish I was here more often for you” Aaron sighed. You knew he felt guilt about leaving you alone whilst he went away with the team, but even if he wasn’t with you, you rarely felt alone. Even at his busiest, he made time, even for something as small as an ‘I love you’ text or a ‘have a good day’ message.

“You’re perfect for me Aaron, please don’t doubt that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” you sleepily replied, meaning every word. He gazed at your tired face and drooping eyes and saw that you were on the verge of sleep. Aaron swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He felt so overwhelmed with love that he felt emotional. Pulling you closer, he placed a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “I love you sweetheart”, but you had already drifted off.

But even though you didn’t hear it, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. You’d never felt more loved in your life, Aaron loved you and he never let you forget it.

[coraniaid]

🔥 on fuffy's dynamic? or anything fuffy related

I think most Fuffy shippers – me included for sure – have a habit of making Faith seem a bit too … well, nice.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Faith a lot.  Not just as a character – and she is one of my favorite characters on the show, even if she only appears in less than two dozen episodes – but on a personal level too I have a lot of empathy for her.  I think she has a pretty rough deal in life.  I think she’s very badly let down by a lot of people, both before and after becoming a Slayer.  I think the narrative itself is often far less sympathetic to her than it is to other characters. I think she’s pretty miserably unhappy most of the time, and I think her redemption arc is genuinely very good, even with the little we see of her post-Sanctuary.

That said, it feels to me that a lot of Fuffy fanfiction is written by people who have decided, whether consciously or not, that the “real” Faith is the Faith we see awkwardly asking Buffy if she wants to go the dance with her in Homecoming since she already has the tickets, or showing up on Buffy's doorstep in Amends with some crappy Christmas presents, still not quite able to admit there was never any “big party” she could have gone to instead, however obvious it is at this point, and somehow managing to make a million different heartbreaking microexpressions when Buffy says she’s glad to see her. 

Yes, I like those moments too – I like them a lot – and I think that they are definitely indicative of a real aspect of Faith, one she tries hard to keep hidden most of the time.  But I think it’s an injustice to her character to make that the sum total of her personality.  If this were all there was to Faith’s character, she wouldn’t be half as compelling.

What about the Faith who, however troubled she looked at first, manages to shrug off the fact her new boss is planning to have Willow murdered when he tells her he’s also bought her a Playstation?  What about the Faith who attacks Joyce, ties her up and threatens to kill her?  What about the Faith who fantasies about stabbing Willow and taunts Tara by telling her how much Willow used to love Oz?  What about the Faith who, right from her first appearance, is perhaps a little bit too into beating up vampires and killing demons?  What about the Faith who threatens to torture Buffy, who tries to kill Angel, who definitely does torture Wesley and who kills Professor Worth while he begs for his life?  What about the Faith who probably was going to kill Xander? What about what Faith does to Buffy in Who Are You?

I’m not saying all Fuffy authors should exclusively write angst-ridden enemies-to-lovers in which for the first 100,000 words Faith really does seem to revel in being able to kill things without consequences even as she lets her obsession with Buffy Summers lead her into actively and deliberately trying to hurt her or bring her down to her level. (Though it would perhaps be nice if some of it was like this!)  I don’t have any moral objection if people would rather write fluff in which Faith and Buffy have an awkward first kiss at the Homecoming Dance, or AUs in which Faith never sides with the Mayor, or post-canon fic which takes for granted the fact that Faith is now redeemed and happily devoted to Buffy (it would make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did, since I’ve written all of these things).

But the sort of Fuffy writing and meta that I most enjoy, even if it doesn’t dwell on Faith’s worst moments or if it takes place in a continuity where they conveniently haven’t happened, always treats Faith as somebody who could do those things, if the circumstances were just a little bit different.  Always recognizes her as somebody who does have a lot of barely-suppressed anger in her, who is more likely to listen to an authority figure who tells her what she wants to hear than one who doesn’t, who is more than a little bit jealous of Buffy’s life, who does think, deep down, that being a Slayer makes her better than other people.

To me, that’s the appeal of Faith as a character and also of her relationship with Buffy. The two things are kind of inseparable.  Faith is a reflection of a lot of Buffy’s own worst impulses; she’s somebody that Buffy could have been if things had turned out differently (and if Buffy hadn’t had a certain inner strength and self-belief that Faith, for all her posturing, doesn’t quite ever have herself).  She’s the Buffy we’ll see hints of throughout Season 6, the Buffy we saw in Season 2’s When She Was Bad, the Buffy we see in Season 3’s The Wish. And, as a reflection of Buffy, she has some of Buffy’s strengths as well as exaggerated versions of some of Buffy’s flaws.  She’s not uncomplicatedly Evil, even at her worst, but she does a lot of things that are very hard to forgive, and she enjoys doing some of them more than some people like to admit.

I think if somebody’s going to try to write Fuffy, and get both Buffy and Faith right, that’s something they need to remember.  Let Faith have some jagged edges.  Let her be a little bit dangerous.  Let her be a little bit cruel. Let her be a little bit self-destructive.  Put simply: let her be Faith.

[coolgal5]

Forever is the sweetest con - G. GRAVES

(Guys please tell me how I can do this better I’ve never written fanfiction before and this is so bad 😭 GN reader)

Gideon Graves had always been an enigma to you. From the moment he strutted into your life with his confident strides you knew he would cloud your every waking moment. You had met him working as a bartender at the Chaos Theater. You only took the job to pay for college. Gideon had approached you one night as you were working. He had spat off a comment about your hair or outfit. You replied with something wittingly cliche. You ended up chatting with him for a bit that night. You couldn’t stand his snarky attitude or his sarcastic remarks. This of course was overshadowed by the way he said your name and the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. He could make you feel totally alone in a room full of people yet in private assure you he loved you. He was controlling and tried to hold you down and you let him because you didn’t want to lose him. You were absolutely in love with him.

Towards the end there was a lot of arguing and things got very heated very quick between you. Most arguments ended with him leaving all night and you sobbing yourself to sleep on your pillow. He overworked himself and any attempt to help him was immediately blocked with blind aggression. He would be out all night and come home at 5-6 AM most nights. He got nearly an hour of sleep a night and even the “sleeping” was really just him tossing around the bed quietly weeping. You knew something had to happen so you took action. Dragging him home most nights. But eventually what was once him coming home late turned into him not coming home at all. You would wait by the phone all night, desperately praying for a call all night. This particular night you had called his office to make sure he was okay. He snapped at you, screaming and insulting you. He had threatened leaving you before but his attempts were typically shut down by your desperately pained cries and begging. This night however he paid no mind to your desperate attempts to coerce him into letting you continue to love him. He simply excused his leaving by stating that with the newfound success of G-man media he just didn’t have time for a relationship. You were absolutely devastated. You cried for days, not leaving your house and sobbing till you threw up. You had no idea how to live without him in your life.

But now here you are curled up on your loveseat with a glass of tea listening to the little radio sat on the coffee table as you wrote. Your world surprisingly didn’t end after Gideon had left you even though it felt like it. You stayed in Toronto, you made new friends and finished college. You didn’t know what Gideon was up to now, out of sight out of mind you thought. You had garnered a pretty positive reputation amongst readers all over Canada. You wrote for a small magazine company owned by one of your old college professors you had gotten along particularly well with, viewing her as a mother figure of the sort. You listen to the rain pounding against the window. You always loved the rain. You hopped out of your seat and decided to grab your coat before going out onto the porch with your tea.

You sat on the porch whilst the howling wind beat against your body. You closed your eyes and breathed in as your hair filled with raindrops. You gazed up at the sky, examining the stars. You glanced back dow towards the road when you noticed a figure walking. You tense up and look away from the figure. You had become nervous knowing what type of person would be out wandering the streets at this hour. The person seemed to notice you as you noticed them and as you glanced into their sunken eyes you realized who it was and a familiar feeling of dread filled your core.

“Gideon?” You breathed out, hands now beginning to shake and eyes welling up with tears. “Hey listen, before you run off I really need to talk to you” He spoke shakily. Upon looking at him further you noticed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and the tears on his clothes, he looked like he had been beaten.“I have no interest in talking to you now Gideon, not now not ever. You really fucked me up” You said with your voice breaking due to the tears breaking through and dripping down your chin. You started into the house when Gideon grabbed your wrists. You stared into his eyes and for a second you could’ve sworn the rain stopped. “Listen to me please, the way I treated you was sick and really fucked up and I’m sorry” You were a little shocked at his sudden repentance. You never expected this, especially from Gideon. “I lost everything, the company, my money, my whole empire is all gone. I spent the last of my money on a ticket to get up here just to see the one person I ever truly cared about and hope to see a pair of kind eyes looking back at me. I truly have nothing and I just want you” When he said this the tears started to pour down his face and he immediately broke down sobbing.

You didn’t know what to do so in this moment you decided actions spoke louder than words. You wrapped you arms around his neck and pulled him down so your faces were practically touching and you just held him as he sobbed. Just you alone with him in the rain with the stars shining down on you.

[moonlit-witches]

☾ Requiem — Chifuyu Matsuno

☾ Just to Die — Chifuyu Matsuno

❝you learn it ain’t fair by design/so you do what you can/when you’re born into life just to die❞

pairing: chifuyu matsuno x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you meet your new neighbor chifuyu matsuno for the first time

warnings: mentions of death (parental), language, violence, suggestive themes (nothing explicit), questionable morality, reader is lowkey a brat but ya know aren’t all preteens??, one (1) use of y/n, depressive themes (i be depressed so most of what i write is gonna b a lil depressing lol)

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: y'all i haven’t written fanfiction in years so please be mindful lmfao, this takes place right around/before chifuyu meets baji, so he’s his lil asshole self who thinks he rules the world, i have multiple parts to this planned so beware, let me know if you enjoyed! thanks homies!

now playing: [just to die — keshi]

part i

⋯⛩︎⋯

growing up with a single father definitely had its ups and downs. while you were on your own when it came to figuring out catty fights between jealous tweens who thought that words and hair pulling would affect your social standings, or why exactly there was a bright red stain inside of your underwear for a week straight when you were around eleven, your father stepped up in other aspects of your life. teaching you how to persevere against those that talked down on you with a sharp punch to the nose while avoiding retaliating fists, to making you feel as though you were princess of the universe when he’d walk you downtown late at night. he’d let you swing manically off one of his arms, while his other smoked a cigarette. you remembered glancing up and seeing a wide smile illuminating his face, as you giggled trying to kick at the walking pedestrians, causing him to have to flex and move his arm to avoid the collision.

you remember feeling like nothing and no one could touch you as long as your dad was next to you.

that was until you lost him too — moving into a bustling new city, with an unfamiliar aunt who claimed to be a relative of your long-gone mother and scolded you for the ways in which your dad taught you. one minute you were a happy child with confidence that shined through all aspects of your life including caring about schoolwork, helping your dad around the house, and being kind to those around you. the next, you were transported to the police station instead of walking back home alongside your father as he insisted on picking you up from school every day after work. you remember the flickering overhead lights as they said something along the lines of “you’re dad is in heaven now” to keep the conversation kid-friendly. you remember looking up the real story on the library computer late one night. some bitch stabbed your father and took his money.

your aunt suddenly had her hands full — although after losing both parents, was a wild child not what she was expecting to come out of this situation? especially a family member you had never heard of before your father’s untimely death. from violence, to sneaking out, or stealing anything your pockets could hold; you’d begun a search for any sort of feeling other than despair. cheap thrills seemed to be the best ticket.

you had punched your seatmate the first day of school for asking if you needed help purchasing pencils when she’d seen you chewing on a perfectly working pen. you were banned from the four closest convenience stores to your home, whom your aunt seemed to personally know the managers of as they’d ratted out your little heists to her. you’d even sneak out of your ground floor window to share half of your dinner with the city's stray cats as you couldn’t stomach much of an appetite once your solid footing on the universe had whisked out from under your feet. your middle school years seemed to be shaping into the bane of your existence. 

however, you learned just as quickly that simply because all of the lights had been shut off, it doesn’t stop soft, stubborn flames from flickering in long stale corners.

the apartment complex that you now resided in sat on a poorly lit corner, standing five floors high, and rang quietly with the sounds of mother’s scolding their ruly children while the dark alleys surrounding it smelled of tobacco and skunk, flitting behind the bodies of those that stopped to smoke. most days, following the lengthy and boring school days, you would stay out as late as you could, lying to your aunt that you’d been at cram school instead of running rampant along the streets of tokyo.

even after your father’s death, you’d feel him by your side, especially when you’d walk the streets after sunset with an unlit cigarette sitting between your tense teeth. the bustling streets weren’t as safe as they had been when he’d physically been here, but his somatic skills of protection that he’d ground into you as a child as a way to bound with the baby girl he’d had no intent of raising by himself before your mother had died six months after your birth in a fiery car accident, acted as a shield for your own wondering steps.

this night was no different. although, you’d receive stares from those passing as they searched for an adult figure in your vicinity to explain your late night strolling on this side of town, you ignored them, staring upwards at the crescent moon that followed you around. your lips played with the stick between your teeth, rolling it back and forth, slightly praying for a way out of the situation that is your life now. sometimes, you’d find a sick fuck who’d catcall you from a darkened alleyway, or find a stray cat being targeted by a group of unruly teenagers, which caused you to snap out of your almost unconscious state to beat them back into place.

those evenings, it was harder to convince your aunt that you’d been out at cram school, but eventually she’d tsk her tongue at you and retire back to her bedroom leaving you in the stillness of the living room as the street lights highlighted your bruised knuckles and sometimes brow bone. you’d often wonder in these moments how your dad would have reacted, daydreaming of his bright smiles and praise at his child standing their ground, asking all the right questions to rile you back up, your own smile mirroring his.

“oi!”

an unwelcoming yell alerted you to a group of half a dozen third-years milling about the alleyway beside you. their eyes were already on yours as you halted, tilting your head to allow the nuisance into your eyesight. your eyelids were heavy, your cheek twitching at the sudden interruption. you sighed slightly, removing the unlit cigarette from your teeth, moving it and your hands into your zip-up’s pockets.

“and what the hell is a young thing like you doing out this late?” the seeming leader of the group sneered, stuffing his own lit cigarette out on the ground under his foot. you stayed silent, uninterestedly sizing the growing boys up. they seemed to be dressed the same, in button up long sleeve shirts, with something embroidered on their left chests, although the kanji was too far away for you to read. they must report to someone with outfits like that, you think, righting your head finally and taking a few steps away from the well lit street into the alley.

after a pregnant pause, another spoke up harshly behind the first to speak, asking “you looking for some fun, little girl?” 

your hands removed themselves from your pockets, twitching against the school skirt you hadn’t changed out of since the final bells, slightly aggravated by the placename they’d given you. you were your dad’s “little girl” and now that he was gone, so too was that person. a slight rage beginning to boil under your skin as someone else addressed you as such.

“what’s it to you?” you spit back, rolling your shoulders to try and appear somewhat bigger.

this created a wave of reaction amongst the delinquents; laughter echoing against the damp, cracking brick walls surrounding them. you smirked slightly, somewhat glad that society had made everyone in it believe a small, young girl like you posed no threat to these older schoolboys, much less those that willingly participated in acts of violence such as brawls and beatings. 

once the fit of hysterics had quieted, the one that seemed to lead those behind him opened his mouth, seemingly, to reply to your rhetorical question. you decided now was as good a time as any. your feet carried you quickly forward, watching his face shift from that of amusement, to one of confusion, before your right foot came up to meet the side of his face. you pivoted on your toes, leg still in the air from coming down off his face, and used the momentum to slam the follower next to him square in the temple. taking a step, you brought your burning knuckles upwards, locking a solid hit on a third’s jaw, relishing in the sound of teeth clashing, before facing the one formerly standing next to his leader. you pulled your arm back, and felt your knuckles reverberate against his face as you smashed his nose in.

you turned on your heels this time, figuring you could take the remaining two third-years on at once, as usually those in the back weren’t as renowned in their skill as those between the object of victimization (you, in their hopeful case) and their leader, who laid moaning as blood ran from his ear that you’d smashed against his skull seconds earlier. your calculations weren’t usually wrong, but they seemed to be a bit off, as you watched the other two boys yell as they rushed you from either side.

you let out a small cry yourself, turning slightly to the bigger one, your fist meeting his chest, as he stormed into your personal space. the one behind you yanked the hood of your sweatshirt, choking you a bit as they pulled you downwards, back hitting the concrete with a jolt that had the remaining air leaving your lungs at an alarming pace. the position made you panic, grunting a bit as you held your fists forward, towards the remaining boy as he lunged on top of you. you sucked in a quick breath before his weight landed on you, causing an involuntary oof to escape your mouth. you had managed to get a knee between his chest and yours, as you let out another yell, and pushed with all your weight, forcing yourself back into the ground as the delinquent stuttered in his movements to catch your flailing hands. 

“get off,” you huffed angrily, as a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that maybe you weren’t as invincible as you’d perceived yourself to be. you shook the thought from your head, rearing a fist back to smash the skull of the one on top of you, when a strong vice gripped your wrist, smashing it back into the ground next to your head. you looked up with wide eyes and saw the one you’d punched in the chest catching his breath in pants, holding you down. you became frantic as his other hand wound its way around your other wrist, pulling it away from your chest and above your head as well. a harsh blow to your lower jaw brought you back to the present, as you heard your ears ring, and felt a sting from your upper lip being split by your tooth.

Shit, you thought, mind temporarily blanking, as your vision began to blur with frustration knowing that if you didn’t get out of this quickly, this night would be one of hurt and hell.

“if you wanted to have this much fun,” the one on top of you grunted, a smirk erupting along his ugly cheeks, “you could’ve just asked nicely.”

 you begin puffing, straining your taut muscles aiming to bring your other leg up along the other to force his stank breath out of your face, mind beginning to race at his implications. the one pinning your wrists above your head, struggling to move your wrists towards one another, and you spared a glance upwards, seeing a sadistic glint within his dark eyes as his own mouth formed a toothy grin.

suddenly, his face moved rapidly to his left, disappearing from your view followed by a sickening thunk as it echoed off the concrete next to you. you let a small gasp escape your already open mouth, averting your eyes back to the front of you, watching the third-year on top of you as his mouth transformed from a twisted smirk to a perfect ‘o’ before a fist smashed into his mouth, causing him to collapse face-first against your side.

the added weight made you anxious as you moved your body back, leaning on your elbows as you scrambled. before you’d even turned to see who had attacked the two, another hand was wrapping around your arm, this time yanking you up onto your feet, and pulling you towards the other side of the alley. your breath came back sporadically, sparing a glance behind you at the beaten group of teens who were beginning to rekindle their surroundings, before the grip on your arm yanked you to the right, causing you to trip over your own feet, struggling to keep up with the heightened pace.

after about a minute of combing through side streets, the grip loosened around your forearm, causing you to slow, leaning forward to catch your breath. you lifted your head slightly to see who it was running alongside you, and your eyebrows contorted at the sight of a boy your own age, maybe a year above you, with dyed blonde hair in a faux hawk, curling into itself. before you’d collected yourself to make an attempt at conversation, he was lowering his chest, towering into your face, face scrunched in frustration. “what the hell is wrong with you? don’t you know that they could’ve killed you — or worse?”

his eyebrows were angled inwards, half covering his green eyes, anger raiding from him and onto you, causing you to bristle, standing up straight to counteract his intimidating stance.

“i didn’t need your help,” you scoffed, wiping the side of your mouth, as he watched the blood smear from the corner of your lips and half disappear into the black sweatshirt sleeve.

for a minute he stared at you, disbelief surrounding the situation transforming into an unbelieved laugh. “then what the hell did i just fight those pricks for, huh?” he stared at you with wide eyes, finally turning away from you while shaking his head.

you frowned, crossing your arms. “it was just a small misjudgment on my part,” you muttered without looking at him. “nothing i couldn’t have handled.”

the last part came out breathy and if he hadn't been standing so close to you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

he gave you an inconceivable side-eye before stuffing his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk off — the same direction you needed to go to return home. you furrowed your own eyebrows in irritation realizing you couldn’t split off from the blonde just yet, and began to trail behind him. he sighed deeply before speaking, “you just moved downstairs, didn’t you?”

you gape in disbelief. how did he know that you’d just moved here?

he shot you a look over his shoulder, before facing forward and shrugging. “you and your mom sure know how to yap about you being out too late, you know?”

your mind reeled for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this boy must live in the same apartment complex you’d recently found yourself home in. and on top of that, he had to have heard the recurring arguments you’d gotten into with your aunt about your punctuality or violent tendencies. after shaking off the questioning thoughts from your mind, you grumbled, “she’s not my mom,” while fumbling for your crumbled cigarette in your pocket.

he turned to look at you, seeing the cigarette between your lips and it was his turn to gape as he asked, “whoa, what the hell are you smoking cigarettes for?”

his hand reached out, seemingly to remove it from your lips and you shifted sideways out of his grasp, humming, “i don’t. just reminds me of someone.”

his fingers returns to his side, nodding as if he understood, before saying, “i’m matsuno chifuyu.”

you huffed, wondering when the hell you’d even asked, before he stopped suddenly, causing your chest to collide with his back, creating a huff to escape you. he slyly looked over at you. “and this is where you tell me your name.”

you gave him a glare back, stepping around his figure to continue home. “(l/n y/n).”

he grinned slightly in satisfaction, matching his pace to yours as you approached the apartment building the two of you reside in. he pulled the glass door open after punching in his access code, awaiting your entry before following himself. you turned to the hallway entry on the right before moving your head to look at him as he moved towards the stairwell.

“thanks,” you said quietly, moving the cigarette to the side of your mouth.

he turned to look at you, giving you a cat-like grin, before you finished your sentence and entered the hallway before you. “by the way, your hair looks stupid.” you caught sight of the grin disappearing as his lips turned into a scowl, as you turned away to hide your own grin.

and thus began your unlikely and somewhat unwanted friendship with the delinquent upstairs.

⋯⛩︎⋯

[verbenaa]

✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae for the tag! I loved reading yours, and this was so fun to do!

When did you start writing?

Well, I feel like I’ve always been writing something since I was able to! I always wrote little stories as a kid, and had notebooks full of ideas and such as a teen. I stopped writing in college and it's taken me over a decade to feel confident enough again to return to it. I had never actually written fanfiction though, despite reading it since I was a preteen until this past december. it's been a great experience so far!

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love sci-fi! I mostly read fantasy, but I do indulge myself in that as well when my interest is sparked. I do, also, love a good historical romance when I am feeling indulgent 🤭

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

There's not really a particular writer or anything I'm emulating, if anything I try to not emulate anyone and simply write with my own voice. I've also never had my writing compared to anyone else before, either!

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write all over the place, haha 😅. On a perfect day, I get to start writing in the living room on my favorite spot on the sofa with my coffee, but it's rare I get the opportunity. I tend to write a lot instead at the built-in booth in my kitchen or at my desk…but truly I will write wherever I can. I have been known to pull over into a parking lot and jot down something really great into the notes on my phone lol. The one place I don’t usually write is in bed though, as I am a sleepy girl by nature and just being near my bed lulls me into the sleepiessss.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Hmmm, well I can't say I ever just 'muster up a muse', so to speak. I typically get ideas randomly and I can't ever force them to come. However, I do obviously love to listen to music to help set the mood, I am a chronic daydreamer, and I use pinterest a lot as a tool to help hone my focus. When I start feeling a little lost in my vision, I find it helpful to return to my playlist and the to eden pinterest board to sort of 'reset' my mind, so to speak, and get back into the proper mindset.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I like repetition, specifically in threes. I also really enjoy working with themes of sex and intimacy and how they intertwine. Trust, as well, has been a recurring one throughout my work. I also love a good musical reference here and there, too!

What is your reason for writing?

Because I have words and stories begging to be set free and can hold them back no longer. Because I want to prove to myself that I am capable of creating something, even if it's just a silly little fanfiction. Because I hope someone out there will enjoy it and maybe it will leave an imprint on them in some form or another!!!

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any and all comments!!!! I have recently been having a real bout of lack of confidence, so going back over my comments has really helped keep me going and remind myself that there at least a few people who are enjoying my work!

I have a deep love for comments though where people point out specific parts or lines that they loved and I find this to be beyond satisfying. It's so lovely to know specifically what resonated with someone or what part they really, really enjoyed. It's a very validating experience! Few things bring me more joy than getting to read comments. I neeeeed the comment serotonin! (please leave me comments)

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I...don't know? Hopefully approachable, willing to chat? That I have somewhat of a nice grasp on what I'm writing about??? That I am at least a decent writer????

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I've received a lot of comments about my ability to set place and my imagery, so I feel confident about that skill. Also not bad at writing smut 😏.

How do you feel about your own writing?

oof. this is...a tough one, haha. I tend to be very unsure about my own writing and am also prone to confidence issues and imposter syndrome, hence part of the reason why I've been writing so much slower the past few months 🥲. I oscillate between thinking I'm writing something good that will be enjoyable or thinking that it's awful lol. honestly I can't let myself think overmuch about it and instead I just try to write, write, write and then press publish when I'm done with it 😅. I can be quite self-critical. I need to chill lol.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write for meeee! So far, all the stories I've told have been ones I have wanted to read myself. to eden is completely self-indulgent, as are the oneshots lol.

I could probably do a ted talk about why, exactly, I felt compelled to write to eden when there's a million other amazing Astarion/Tav fics out there and what specific aspects of the Astarion/Tav relationship I have been so eager to explore, so if ya want that LET ME KNOW ✨

Tagging @elinorbard @khywren @ladyduellist @inkymoonbunny @xxnashiraxx and anyone else who wants to join in, I would love to learn about all of you!!!

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ok so i was actually kinda surprised to find that looking at the ao3 stats and adjusting for how long ofmd’s existed (a year and a half) vs how long the stucky fandom’s been around (coming up on a decade), not only is gentlebeard on par with stucky but it actually beats stucky for amount of fics written. but i’m making a prediction now just based on how i’ve observed fandoms to work: i do think the gentlebeard popularity will peter out faster than stucky did

i’m not saying bc i think gentlebeard is worse or the ofmd fandom is weak or anything, i’m saying this bc in fandom it seems like the white masc queerbait ships* have like, an absurd amount of longevity that goes way beyond the general fandom surrounding whatever media said white masc queerbait ship hails from. im thinking abt the protagonist/rival ship from the TERF wizard series that nobody decent talks about in public anymore. before we all cut jkr out of our lives, people were still churning out fics abt the main character and that racist blond kid pretty regularly. and another example, we have those scientists from pacific rim that are more popular than any of the main characters from that movie. it’s been years and the newt/hermann fandom is still going strong.

and i say “newt/hermann fandom” intentionally, bc that’s the thing that i think actually gives these ships their longevity: when there are fans who are primarily invested in a piece of media because of a noncanonical masc4masc queerbait ship, they’re not really fans of the media itself. i mean, some of them might be, but if they are then that’s in addition to being fans of this alternate queer interpretation of the media in question. they’re a fan of the fandom mass hallucination that the fans collectively and collaboratively invented of a romantic/sexual/homoerotic relationship between two guys who on-screen might hug like once or twice (or sometimes even never)

and i’m pretty sure the reason this sort of fandom phenomenon tends to have so much longevity is bc the fans have already created this whole extensive romantic storyline using what is often some pretty minimal canonical material to work with. so when the movie franchise or the tv show ends and the shippers no longer have any new canonical material to work with, they can keep going for years because really, they were already making shit up from the start.

so compared to that, gentlebeard is way different bc everything the fans might have invented on our own the show pretty much already did for us, and anything the show didn’t do yet is probably coming for us this season (or in s3, fingers crossed). i’ve mentioned before how a lot of fanfiction seems to fall on a spectrum between “fix” and “expand,” and by the end of ofmd i doubt there’s gonna be a whole lot that gentlebeard fans feel like they need to “fix.” versus stucky, where there’s so much that needs to be fixed that you might as well just throw the whole canon out.

i don't really mean any of this as a criticism or an attack on fans of queerbait ships like this, im just pointing out fandom trends that i've noticed. i myself have been deeply invested in stucky, newmann, and the gay wizard boys at different points in my life. like there is something very fun abt putting on slash goggles and making queer content out of nothing. personally though, now that we're in an age where we're getting canon queer content, im not so engaged in a lot of the ships i used to care so much about, but i don't think it's inherently wrong** for people to still enjoy some classic fandom queerbait ships. it's just a very different thing from enjoying canonical queer ships like gentlebeard

*im using “queerbait ships” loosely to include popular gay ships in media that was never in a million years going to make these characters gay.

**a clarifying point: i don't think it's inherently wrong, however there are a lot of problematic elements to this kind of fandom activity, namely the way a lot of these queerbait ships will dominate a fandom while other characters who are important in canon get completely sidelined (and yes, the sidelined characters are often women/poc). also, less importantly, when people's primary media consumption revolves around strip mining canon for shipping content, this absolutely destroys their media literacy and critical thinking. again, im not saying this to attack ppl who engage in fandom primarily through fic/art of noncanonical gay ships, i myself have done the same thing. but i think ppl who do should also make a conscious effort to also engage with fan content that centers women/poc, or at the very least need to be aware of the issues around this kind of fandom activity.

[lehnsherrrr]

Fanfic takes (either controversial or common I don’t know)

I just want to say that I hope I don’t offend or upset anyone with this post, I’ve been reading fanfiction for 9 years and I’ve never been able to talk about it until this very moment. Just want to know if anyone relates.

First of all, I’m sorry but I absolutely cannot stand a fic that’s written in the style of a group chat.

Like:

David69: Hey

Jones420: Whatsup

It’s so unnatural, it doesn’t make sense, it always feels forced. I don’t mind a group chat segment cause I understand that may be hard to describe, but the whole thing? Come on man, you’ve obviously got the idea, no shame in just trying to write it normally. I love creativity but I CANNOT with it.

Then it’s like obvious things, or I’d like to think they’re obvious. Punctuation.

Bad punctuation will ruin your whole fic no matter how good your idea or descriptions are, no matter how many words or chapters. I will assume you are 12. You don’t have to understand what one of these ; does, just at least know when there’s supposed to be a paragraph.

I can’t believe the amount of fics I’ve abandoned because two different people would have dialogue in the same paragraph. Come on man.

It’s forgivable if you are actually young (but I don’t want to be reading fanfiction written by someone young, no offence younger me) or if English is not your first language. That being said, I’m mostly sure that punctuation is pretty similar for most languages.

If you struggle like I do/did with things such as how long sentences should be, rereading it always helps. Especially if you leave some time between writing it and proof reading. So often I’ll come back to my work and be like “tf was I trying to say??? Is that even English??”

Better yet, use an ai voice to read it for you. Love a bit of ethical use of ai. (There’s apps that have voices that have been bought and not stolen.) ((but no one’s gonna hurt you if you want to hear Morgan freeman read out your smut shot))

Also Grammarly is free, it can scan your text and tell you what could be improved.

This one might be a me thing, like a “what do yall know about them” sort of situation. Mischaracterisation is obviously a crime unless it’s an au specifically about that, BUT, I mean specifically their dialogue.

I’m autistic (if you couldn’t tell) and have synthesisia, so this might be different for me, but I can hear the characters talking before I write it. I can hear exactly how they’d respond and what words they’d use, their little movements and body language they’d make while saying it. So when I read a fic that writes 2 middle aged men like they’re texting teenagers, I get a little peeved. It’s not the biggest crime, I will continue to read anyway, but I often separate those characters from the source material in my head. I’m reading a fanfiction about these characters, they gotta be those characters, not just people with the same names and features.

Honestly being me I’d probs write a million more things here, I’m a professional hater. To be honest though I do enjoy hating, I think it’s a love language of sorts. I like to pay attention. I also feel bad when I can see that an author probs had a good idea but I just cannot read it. I’d never ever ever leave a comment saying anything, not even a “hey girly! Just so yk you need to use paragraphs!” Sort of comment. I just hope people learn from their own mistakes and develop as they get experience.

Anyway.

PEACE AND LOVE

Plz share any more grievances in the comments or reposts, love a good yap!

[the-glory-regiment]

heyyyy

do you write/know any fanfics or headcannons for glory?

thanks love <33

Yes! I do write some things, I have a few of my fics from the past year on Ao3. I wrote some Bluefour (the name I gave to the 4 boys: Trip, Searles, Rawlins and Sharts) fics as well as some Trearles, as they are my main interest. I had also written a short but fluffy Shaforbes, because well...its the most popular ship in this small little fandom xD

There's some fics on Ao3, though they are mostly Shaw/Forbes. Don't get me wrong, I love that, but we really need some more angst (and Trearles someone please write for Trearles, God I love them so much) please I beg ALL of youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

There are some on fanfiction.net, some really great ones. I love those and I want you all to read them, so I'll be linking them.

The Fall of Shaw, a glory fanfic | FanFiction

Timor Mortis, a glory fanfic | FanFiction (This one contains some graphic details about corpses, btw)

As for my headcanons...boy do I have a lot from my obsession last year. My first one I think about is ADHD Trip. This one I could elaborate on more but that's for a different post ":) Then ASD Searles, I also think he's Achillean! Actually you know what here are myBluefour sexuality hcs:

Searles - Gay (Claims the male physique is very attractive, has gotten some weird looks. Never shown interest in women before and sees them as friends rather than potential partners. Just a man-liker in general)

Trip - Also gay, just doesn't realize it ┐(´ー｀)┌

Sharts - Bisexual. Just a curious little guy

Rawlins - Heteroflexible, I liked the idea of him in the original script as having a wife and children, and tbh it's too cute. I do see him forming a very very close bond to another man, one that can be considered romantic.

Some of my other headcanons include a post-Fort Wagner Colonel Forbes, he sort of grows depressed and other angsty things, but he gets through it trust! Also, hc that he is just an alcoholic.

Sharts and Rawlins father-son dynamic very true in my heart. I also hc that they both survived Fort Wagner (Trip and Searles die, just as meant to happen), after that they grow even closer.

I have so many other headcanons, I just can't remember them all. I had them all in a chat with a person I no longer associate with, so a good chunk of the written stuff is gone :( But I'm sure I'll remember when I watch the movie again.

Thank you for asking, I needed a post to start getting back into the blog! Love yoouuuu 💙💙

[14muffinz]

@blackfire-fanfiction it's 2am, but here's the fic as promised

first week

words: 2169

Notes: i didn’t remember the rise timeline, so i’m just going in the order on wikipedia. There’s a lot of food mentions because i forgot to eat dinner and i got hungry. Sue me.

~~~

it’s a bit weird right? that over there we’re almost fifteen, and then over here we’re almost fourteen? wonder how that worked out

shit, right. this is supposed to be important info only, sorry

Leon’s pretty sure that it’s pure luck that’s holding the page of the notebook together. He’s written down so many things in preparation of swapping, only to wake up the next day still in ‘his’ body, and have to erase it all.

The body’s not actually his. There’s a bit of a silent agreement that he belongs in this world and the other guy belongs in the other, just because that’s usually where they are. The longest Leon’s ever been on the other end was a couple of weeks, he doesn’t know those brothers like he knows the ones here.

Plus, no hate to the other guy and whatever he’s got going for himself, but it’s weird and wrong to be the same age as Raph and Mikey. To somehow be the soft spoken one, even though that’s almost the complete opposite of who Leon is.

The switching’s been more frequent than normal as of late. It’s got them both on edge, from what Leon can tell. Unfortunately, you can only write so fast in a notebook, and apparently the other guy’s barely touched a keyboard so even if they could find a way to stop Donnie from hacking everything tech-y that they own, it wouldn’t be any faster. But they have talked about it, sort of. Mostly about who has taken notice, with maybe one or two theories thrown in.

Good news, countdowns ticking. They’re about to be fifteen in the other world, and Leon just has a feeling that something’s going to happen over there. He doesn’t want the other guy to miss out on that, so he’s doing anything he can to stay up, even though he’s not entirely sure if that’ll prevent a switch or not.

He was planning on staying up late either way, if he’s honest. After all, fifteen over there means that he and Donnie are about to be fourteen over here, and that’s pretty important. Leon, for several reasons, does not know if he’s actually fourteen, but it’s the thought that counts.

At about five minutes to midnight, Donnie lifts up the curtain leading into Leo’s room, settling himself next to Leo on the bed, and silently handing over a party horn. Leo very, very carefully sliders the notebook underneath his sheets.

Right as the clock strikes twelve, in a mutual silent agreement, they blow into the horn, the paper uncurling and making no noise at the end. Damn, that’s overwhelming.

“I blew first,” they both say in perfect sync, before turning two glares on one another. There’s no way to prove it, as always, but Leon will fight for his status as the older twin, please and thank you. With nothing to decide it for them, they usually resort to things like rock paper scissors or who can do something first games. They never warn each other, either, it only adds to the fun.

One of the many reasons that Leon prefers his Donnie to the other one. He might pretend to be all distant and cool, but he’s still Leon’s twin and it doesn’t seem like he plans on dropping that title any time soon. But other Donnie spends most of his time cooped up in his lab with the small amount of materials he has, or with other Mikey. Having the ‘twin’ interactions with other Raph just isn’t the same.

“Considering I am wearing my glasses and have been caffeinated, it’s reasonable to assume that I would have a quicker reaction time than you.”

“We both I have the better reaction time, Dontron,” Leon argues. “And that I’m much faster than you.”

“Lies.”

“Are they?”

⠀

⠀

The surface is weird over here. Like, it’s cool finally seeing what’s above this lair, but it was hard trying not to act underwhelmed. The other world’s a lot more colourful. I have a feeling you won’t like it up there.

They finally tried pizza, and thank goodness they are hooked. I don’t think I could last too much longer on algae and worms, haha. Definitely need to track down Mike Tony Lou’s, though, I need to get them hooked before it’s too late.

Onto the good stuff! We are very, very close to figuring out what mutated us. We found another canister tonight! And a lot of other stuff, make sure that nobody else bothers you before you read this because it is a lot.

“You doing your writing again?”

Leo can’t help but jump, looking out his open bedroom door, where Donnie is peering in. He winces, frantically shutting the worn and slightly water-stained notebook shut, sliding it underneath his covers before Donnie realises that it’s one he stole from Raph. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Donnie pauses for a moment, before continuing as though nothing happened. “Do you want breakfast?”

No. Absolutely not. Ever since the first time he’d had real food in the other world he has not liked eating over here. It’s disgusting. Why are his brothers still okay with eating algae and worms?

“What time’s it?”

Donnie barely hesitates before responding, “Nine-ish.”

“I’m going to sneak out,” Leo decides. It’s prime pizza hour! He can’t ignore that!

“Are you crazy?” Donnie hisses.

Ehn, maybe. Not that he can tell his brother that. Leo just wants to have some bread, so that he has a reason to ask for a toaster, so that he can have toast. Master planning, very important leader stuff that he’s thinking about.

“If Dad doesn’t know, he can’t yell at me,” Leo decides. That’s not the card he’ll usually play in this dimension, but sometimes a little misbehaviour for the sake of the greater good (his family’s taste buds) is worth it.

Donnie considers this. Leo can’t tell how serious he is, his brother mostly just looks tired. “Good luck.”

He proceeds to walk away.

Leo goes back to updating his other self on the Kraang situation.

⠀

⠀

… I’m not entirely sure what happened to S.B, actually, just that he made it out of that fight. One of us should probably bring that up to our brothers. He could cause problems.

By the way, we have cereal finally. You’re welcome. Make sure Raph gets his first, you know how he is.

Leon stares down at the notebook, shocked by all the stuff detailed in his other self’s ramble about the last two weeks-or-so. It was a lot, and Leon doesn’t think that the weird shapeshifting dudes and creepy lab guy really hold up in comparison.

He crams the notebook between his mattress and the wall, before beginning to stretch his fingers and toes, adjusting himself to the unnaturally large hands that this body is stuck with. He swears, if it weren’t for the switching, one of them would never have heard of wrists or ankles, because they barely exist in this body.

For the first time in a while, he’s not ready to face the day. So many unknowns have just been thrown at him, and he’s not sure how casual to be about them. Silence is always an option, but Leon’s not a quiet guy. He’s the jokester, the face man! Even without the eye bananas from the other body that he loves oh-so-very much, he wants to keep that role here.

Not the leader.

Goddammit, other Leo. If you were that jealous of Ra– big Raph, why didn’t you just say so?

The differences are apparent pretty much the moment he steps into the main area of the lair. Mikey is sitting in the pit with a plate that only has two slices of bread on it, and he’s biting into the third. In this Mikey’s usual chaotic neutral fashion, he’s biting right into the side, crust and all. Beside him, Donnie is leaning over his own notebook, scribbling something down frantically.

It’s not, like, weird or anything, but last time Leon was here, algae and worms were pretty much the only thing these guys ate and Donnie would usually be in his own space rather than in the pit while he works.

He’s good at rolling with things, though, and he’s too hungry to care.

Slipping into the kitchen without offering a good morning, Leon comes across Raph leaning against the counter with a bowl of cereal in his hand. He’s practically asking to spill it, wow.

“Morning,�� Raph greets shortly.

“Morning,” Leon returns, already looking around the room trying to identify which cabinets have probably been filled with actual food. One of the worst parts about swapping is not knowing where anything is, like that one time his other self washed his mask and forgot to tell Leon and so he spent the entire morning tracking it down.

Whatever, the biggest one probably has something in it. Raph doesn’t seem to care that much anyways.

“Hey dudes!” Mikey shouts from the other room. “Wanna try and set up a ramp for a bit? I’m bored!”

Heck. Yes. Leon misses the giant ramps from back home, like, all the time. He’s going stir crazy in here! All the time. All the time. Trust him on this.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds eagerly.

Hopefully other April plans on coming over together, he really wants to meet her. He’s been wondering if there’s an April here or not, and he finally has an answer.

⠀

⠀

so those green bugs kinda sorta came back out the portal thing with us. and went everywhere. so that is a bit of a problem, and we don’t really know how to handle it yet. another mutant popped up btw, a pig dude. really weird, 0/10 would not recommend fighting

you also missed the rat flu by like two days. don’t ask raph what happened, because he is a lying liar who lies, but fingers crossed that you’re around for it next year

we’re going out to see a wrestling match wednesday night, no april

The nice part about this world is that Leo can spend two minutes reflecting on what he just read with his head in his hands, just trying to make sure he read that all right. He’s not sure what he was expecting when he showed up, considering how his own week’s been, but it definitely wasn’t this.

He’d thought that the whole brain aliens thing had upped his weirdness tolerance, but an entire magic city underneath New York is pushing it a lot. As is the teleporting dog/cat, sentient vines(?), and all the other madness that his other self has apparently dealt with.

But you know what? This is the dimension where he’s able to speak his mind without getting weird looks. If he told these brothers that this is insane, he’s pretty sure at least one of them would agree with him.

Leo rushes up the stairs and skids into the kitchen, being greeted by the wonderful smell of this Mikey’s cooking. Absolutely the best part of showing up here is the pleasant wakeups. As much as he loves training (he loves it, he loves it so much, even when Raph is constantly showing him up) sometimes it’s nice to just have a peaceful morning.

“Morning Leo!” Mikey greets happily, moving around the kitchen expertly.

For how much the other Leo wrote down this week, very little seems to have changed.

“We have anything planned today?” He asks, hoping that he sounds more tired than quiet. Leo’s not the loudest person unless he’s quoting something, but the other guy is and he spends more time in this body, so Leo just has to deal.

Mikey shrugs. “Raph wants us to head topside tonight and do more hero stuff, probably. I think that he should be saving his energy for when we watch the match tomorrow.”

Raph wants to do hero stuff? Really? Raph from the other world spends most patrols complaining about how Leo leads the team, or just having to waste time patrolling in general. Which is weird, because Leo knows that those brothers are excited by being topside, including Raph. (Maybe this is something he should prompt his other self about?)

For the next few minutes, he’s left awkwardly standing around as Mikey finishes up a batch of pancakes, trying to think of any more questions that he needs to ask before he starts the day. He has several questions about what’s happened on this side of things in relation to those bugs, that secret city, and more, but he doesn’t know how to ask without sounding suspicious quite yet. He’ll just have to go off of context clues.

“You look tired,” Mikey notes as they both finally settle around the table.

He does? Whoops. It’s not the first time this Mikey’s said that to him, so maybe it’s just a swapping thing.

“I’m fine,” he responds.

~~~

more

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Hello moon I love your fanfictions in Destiny 2. Here's some qna...

1. What made you love the Destiny franchise?

2. Why do you love the the Drifteris ship so much?

3. Do you think their(Drifter and Eris) story would still be explored especially now that the franchise is in a bad shape.

4. Any future stories that you would write in Ao3 for the following years.

I am delighted you like my stories and happy to answer your qna any time you like although some answers take longer than others (especially if they end up being stories) and there are some that are still waiting for me finish their replies. (I have not forgotten! They just require more attention.)

This I can answer right away, though. So I shall.

1.

Eris. Eris made me love Destiny. After her, the Drifter. After him, the stories of several other characters. But Eris has forever transformed how I write my non-fanfiction writing. I'd never found hopeful endings of recovery done in a way that was actually inspiring before. That sort of thing always seemed either false, tacky and trite or exploitative trauma-gore with a pretty bow on the end.

Eris is different. Full balls-to-the-walls horror but with a genuine ending that makes sense and isn't either cherry-lipstick on a corpose or abyssmal nihilism is extremely hard to pull off. I have been studying Eris, how she is written, how her narrative functions.

As a child, the house I grew up in was toxic and awful but it was also full of books, most of which were the golden-age SF&Fantasy that Destiny is based on. Child-me found them an escape but adult-me couldn't connect with those stories any more when I grew older. Those endings were too easy and simple, the villains too beatable, the misogyny and homophobia too pervasive, the imperialism gross and unaware. Those stories no longer provided me with escape or comfort. They just made me sad. Eric John Stark, Outlaw of Mars and the Stainless Steel Rat were traded in for Cthulhu and Molly Millions and I found solace in the gothic, the cyberpunk and the weird because at least they weren't filled with abusive lies.

Destiny has changed that. Destiny has shown me I can have my Stainless Steel Rat and my Molly Millions and they can have strong narrative arcs with good endings that ring true and, sometimes, even love each other.

2.

I've gone into detail regarding Eris and the Drifter in other posts but, at its core, the relationship is very well summarized (by someone else) as "He gives her trust. She gives him hope." I find their helping each other to heal to be very beautiful.

But my love of their relationship goes beyond that. It reaches back to my love of the X-Files. It reaches back to badass female characters like Ripley from Alien and Trinity from the Matrix. It reaches back to badass male characters (there is absolutely more than a little bit of Conan the Barbarian in Eris). And I cannot overstate my delight when I discovered my childhood beloved intergalactic thief and conman, the Stainless Steel Rat, reincarnated without the misogyny and trite shallowness, as gritty, always-hungry, deeply-hurt-but-learning-how-to-heal Drifter.

I have, in fact, always loved badass punks who keep a core sense of self and love through the horrors, standing up for what matters when no one else can, refusing to die because they have a job to do dammit and they will not lie down. I have always loved shifty lying untrustworthy-yet-ultimately-reliable stray-cat-meretricious-charisma-rogues who, after so much betrayal and pain, finally find something worth fighting for. I love them when they appear in any gender or orientation, separate or together, but especially, especially together.

Eris and the Drifter have existed in the past and will in future, in various forms of literature and media. I love them wherever I find them. I always have. I always will.

3.

As for what will happen to them within D2, both Eris and the Drifter have a history of existing in shadows, in the spaces inbetween. I am heartbroken at the loss of writers who clearly cared about giving them attention, but the groundwork for them to be close to each other, to find comfort and understanding together, has been laid.

Short of one or both of them being killed off in the main narrative, that relationship has room to continue its quiet gentle growth on its own, out of the spotlight.

It is far more important to me that they be written well and true to who they are than that we get any large focus on them. And if that means their relationship (whatever form it takes) ends up only existing in tiny obscure scraps on item descriptions or small sections of lore books I will not be ungrateful.

Those tiny spaces, after all, are where the writers are given the most creative freedom, where so much of the good writing is able to flourish, becase it is not a major narrative and therefore is given less meddling from external forces like marketing or game mechanics or seasonal/episode content requirements.

It is so easy to ruin something as beautiful as Eris and the Drifter. I feel as though the writing team up until now has treated the relationship between these two broken and healing people with reverence, gentleness, and care.

The writers who remain are from that same team.

As long as the writers continue to treat these characters with that same care, no matter how small the tidbits we might get about them may be, I will be happy and it will be enough.

4.

Regarding future stories: I uh... write a lot.

Road Trip is an ongoing series I keep adding sections to which has several potential endings and many story beats which are sketched out in point form (or less) but not yet fully written. That one is being written nanowrimo-style, straight from the hip, and I only post a new section once the next one is completed (so there is one completed chapter right now, waiting to be published until I finish writing the next one).

Mottephobia has an ending, but I am at war with @redbutterflies-blueeyes and chapters of Mottephobia are being held for ransom until they update their fantastic Drifteris story, Inspiral.

I have two fic exchange stories that will be completed (I hope) soon, and a handful of nearly-ready-to-be-posted stories which will go up once I've done more edits and rewriting. One involves the bog slug. One is a post TFS celebration story inspired by this specific piece art by @haykebyr . One is a request which came in through my ask box for something on Europa that has gone completely off the rails and will likely be long and far more involved than what was requested.

I've also completed and submitted things to a soon-to-be released D2 fanzine and I am hoping they will be accepted. I look forward to sharing more about that once the zine goes live (either from within the zine or on their own if they end up not fitting with everything else) but I'm not allowed to talk about that in any detail until after the zine is published. I will say that one of them is sad but sweet, and another one is just sweet and involves rain.

<3

Thank you again for reading my things. It means the world to me when people tell me they liked something I wrote.

[lokisprettygirl]

Okay I finally watched the episode and I have several feelings so here we go...

If you haven't watched the show, stop reading. (Though I hope you have blocked the spoilers tag, if not it's your own fault..don't come at me)

Am I dying every second thinking about him being alone there for eternity? Obviously 😭

But am i stupid or delusional enough to think he won't make a comeback in the next Avengers movie? No.

I don't think those people can fight kang without loki, they would at some point need his help because he's literally the most powerful god out there now.

Coming back to the episode there's not much I cared about, I probably wouldn't have blinked if ob, b15 or Casey would have died..didn't care about them at all if I was being honest and it's not the character's fault.

As much I hated the ship (because god forbid two male characters are friends in any show these days because they have to be lovers otherwise it's homophobia.. remember when bromance existed? Good times)

Mobius had a good character development that began in season 5 and continued this season unlike Sylvie who started as such a badly written selfish character that the only way they could have fixed it this season was to completely sideline her, which thankfully they did. The smirk and smile at the end even knowing that she may never get to see Loki again? (Yeah just die already).

Hopefully I'll never have to see her again.

Coming back to Loki (my precious baby love) i know his arc ended on a bittersweet note (that smile at the end just warmed my heart like never before) and it's more bitter for me than sweet because I can't handle the thought of him being so lonely because this is not what he wanted or deserved but then I think about Loki who died via strangulation and I'm like fuck everything, this is definitely much better than that ending.

Personally I think with time he's going to grow and learn to control this new power (or he could just clone himself and use him in a way? Idk Marvel can do anything) but I can feel it in my bones that this is not the end of him (unless ofcourse Tom is done with him and won't return for future projects)

That being said, Loki is alive and sure he is alone at the moment but he's a hero now, he has more than redeemed himself and he can finally forgive himself for everything that he didn't do right, perhaps this is what he needed to find that sense of purpose he has been looking for all his life. Hopefully he'd see himself as the god that he always was.

A man that was always ridiculed for his selfishness and narcissism chose to save the multiverse by sacrificing his freedom, by giving up his own free will. He chose everything he didn't want, a throne and what seemed like eternal solitude (but hopefully not)..a man of actions indeed. His arc reminds me of Tony in a way and that's beautiful.

Wherever you go, it's just death, destruction, the literal ends of worlds!

Uhhhhhuh? Look what my boy just did for the whole fucking multiverse.

I'm just trying to see the silver lining here that he's alive and he's the moment..he's everything, he literally became the most powerful being to ever exist in mcu and that gives me hope for him…he'd come back. Kang's arc started with him and they'd need him when the time comes. If not I got my fanfiction powers 🤣 (He deserves to find the sort of love that would stay by his side even if he's all that person would ever get)

Thank God they changed the writers this season and fixed somewhat of the mess they had made of this majestic, ethereal god last time.

Overall yeah my heart is breaking for him but look at him..he's the moment, he's the king of the multiverse, he's everything.

[offorestsongs]

Hihi!!!

For Lysander: 4

For you: 🪶 - First longform/multi-chapter piece you've written

Thank you!!

hiiii thanks for the ask!! 🫶

4. First time experiencing grief

okay so. we're getting into some Lore TM! i don't think he had ever literally grieved anyone, because he just didn't had anyone close to him die. but! if we're talking in a more metaphorical sense! he was raised by his grandma and never knew his parents, but when he was little, he used to imagine them a lot and trying to come up with stories why he had never met them and it was all very nice and idealised (his grandma refused to even touch the topic so he just kinda allowed his mind to run) until he got older and learned (kind of on accident) that they basically abandoned him on purpose and in a way, he really had to take time to grieve all the "what ifs" he came up with and used to comfort himself with on worse days. it was... rough, especially since he didn't really have anyone to talk about it and it only made him feel more lonely and now he doesn't dare to dream about having anything nice for himself ever

First longform/multi-chapter piece you've written

oh my- see, i've been writing for so long, i honestly don't remember the first-first longform thing i've ever attempted to write, but i do rememeber the first multichapter thing i've finished writing. being the adhd bitch i am, it's super hard for me to finish any longform writing projects and i've only recently been learning how to impliment some routine and go about finishing things. but the first multichapter thing i've finished was way before that. and it was uhhhh,,,, a modern au fanfic for the adventure zone: balance that i wrote in a hyperfixation-induced haze sometime in early high school. im sure that fic and taz: balance in general (which was one of my biggest obsessions) sort of kickstarted my love for sibling angst. i've never published the fic because i'm insecure and only started sharing my writing pretty recently because of it </3 i don't think the story i wrote was super good, but i have a big soft spot for it, because it did touch on some themes that i still like and i remember that baby algy had a lot of fun with it! i support younger me having fun with silly things! also fun fact when the taz hyperfixation ran out, i was so attached to the fic i've written that i just kind of turned it into an original story lmao. i never finished writing the un-fanfictioned rewrite but every once in a while i try to do it again because the characters i came up with for it have been haunting!!! my!!! brain!!! even though it's been years djfjjgjdfjfj

[danger-tits-lute]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

X D Thank you for the tag @deadgirlwalking91 lol!

How many works do you have on AO3?

15

What's your total AO3 word count?

44,535

Your top 5 stories by kudos:

Never

Memories Turned To Nightmares 

Baby Me

Protecting Us

For Each Other

I find it so funny that these are all from the soul eater fandom and my shortest fics!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond as much as I can but sometimes I'm shy and it gives me anxiety to acknowledge your compliment =' ) I do my best though!

Do you write crossovers?

Not typically! If I do they are usually through roleplay and not an actual fanfiction.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Though it takes a lot of effort sometimes and I tend to keep things more pg13 than not in fics. Most of the smut happens in the rps. When I do write it, I like dark romance smut, a little aggressive, maybe a little dubcon. That or just really passionate "I'm gunna fix all your problems by loving you" sex lol

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so, but that would be super neat!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, lately I've been co-writing them with my husband in our rps. I always use it as a base and add to it or refine it after but I just really love how we play off each other and plot ideas.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Guitarspear aka Adam/Lute

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't even know. I have some unfinished Soul Eater fics that I abandoned so I don't think I have any that I WANT to finish but might not. The closest I think might go unfinished is an unreleased smut fic called Pray to Me where Adam has a bit of a god complex and Lute is allowed to worship him, as a treat. lol It's on the backest of burners right now but I really hope I can dust that off eventually.

What are your writing strengths?

Sadness and angst. I can take any nice moment and make it terrible. I try not to make everything I write heavy but I'm just an angsty lil guy okay.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I haven't been able to make things flow as cohesively and detailed as much as I want. I wish I had better flow in the progression of my stories and some more detail.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I don't know! I tend to get hyperfixated and only care about that one thing lol. So maybe far off into the future I'll find something else. But right now guitarspear is all I care about lol

What's your favourite fic that you've written?

Honestly I was going to say Lost but not Forgotten but Masks We Wear and Masks We Don't has sort of blown that out of the water. Trust Exercises takes second place for sure though.

Tagging:

@hellsdisneyprincess

And anyone else!! I don't have any other fic writer friends D = but if you are seeing this and you write fics consider yourself tagged!

[scribefindegil]

authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Yayy! Thanks Mary! <3 After agonizing it for a while, my top 5:

The Real World (Mob Psycho 100, post-Mogami arc) is absolutely my favorite fic I've ever written. It's some of my best prose, I'm really pleased with how concise and focused I was able to keep it despite touching on so many characters, and it let me distill down a lot of my thoughts on the themes of the show and why it's so important to me. And I wrote it during the absolute worst stretch of the curse, painstaking sentence by painstaking sentence over the course of half a year. I am so so so proud of it.

Fisherman's Knot (Gravity Falls, post-canon fic focusing on the Stans, their deeply-entrenched mental health issues, and their eventual recovery. Also there are selkies.) At 104k words, the longest piece of writing I've ever finished. Writing it was a journey; I took a long break but I'm so happy and proud that I managed to come back and finish it and that there were still people who were as excited as I was to get to the end. The response to this fic blew me away; it started out largely as a coping mechanism to deal with my own poorly-treated mental illness and I feel really honored that my writing resonated with so many people dealing with similar things. I grew so much as a writer over the course of it. Both the big moments of catharsis--Stan's glitter and Ford's realization by the harbor--were things that were so powerful and electric in my head that I worried I wouldn't be able to put them down in words that did the feelings justice, but I did!

Bloom (Discworld, a Glorious 25th of May fic set a few years after Night Watch) Everyone who sets out to write a Discworld fic is undertaking an extreme act of hubris, because not only are you trying to emulate a specific writing style, you're trying to write like Terry Pratchett, which as we all know is basically impossible. Still, I think I hit some good resonant Discworldy notes in this little piece and really nailed the Themes I was going for. Periodically the Tumblr post version gets a little burst of notes and it always makes me really happy that people are enjoying it.

First And Final Orders (Mob Psycho 100, Dimple character study) Hi. Have you heard of ring composition? I love ring composition. It is my single favorite literary device (and I love a LOT of literary devices), so I had to include one of my fics that makes heavy use of it. I also love pointing at a piece of media and going "Hey. Hey have you thought about how there's kind of some Discworld themes here? What if we thought about the Discworld themes together?" And ALSO i love DIMPLE!!! I hope this fic helps explain why.

Casualties (Gravity Falls, missing scene from the finale) So the reason this fic makes this list isn't so much its quality (though I do still really like it!) but the fact that it was my first-ever completed fanfiction. I'd idly poked at the idea of writing fic a couple times before but never made much progress. I hadn't actually done any creative writing for years at that point. I came to fandom late due to a combination of being scared of the internet and, when I did check out my real-life friends' fandom blogs, feeling like everything was so focused on shipping that there would be no place for me and the kinds of stories I cared about. Gravity Falls changed that. I'd made friends and felt like part of a community for the first time. I'd read fanfic that I loved and that focused on the sorts of relationships I really cared about. And so finally I decided that even though it still felt really scary, maybe I would try my hand at actually writing and posting a fic of my own.

360,000 words and 54 works later, I still think it was a pretty good idea.

[mikki-does-simp]

Words aren't worth shit. (Kuroiro Shihai x GN!reader)

surprise you guys, i came back from my grave for the kajillionth time! frankly, i'm slightly sick of interacting with almost of the MHA fandom, but my love for 1B seems to never ever waver, so i'll try my very best to stick to more longform fanfiction and post more-often so that the people who deserve it have actual content.

A/N: i wrote this in literally two adjacent blocks starting at 1AM and ending around 5 AM with a sleep from 4-4:30, so forgive any flow inconsistences or grammar/spelling mistakes because i say fuck the beta

edit: actually never mind next time i will appreciate a beta run more i left so many spaces that were just- *unfilled*

socially awkward kuroiro AND tactical manipulator kuroiro CAN co-exist, it just has to be written in a very specific way, though. despite that, with you, he feels like a cat covered in wet spaghetti, but like, in a good way.

Who the hell came up with the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words"? Or hell, who altered it to have it to relate an action? Kuroiro didn't really seem to convince himself of it, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't like he was indifferent to works of art- after all, he considered himself a sort of artistic guy... but when it came to a flash, a picture in his mind, a memory- usually it only took up about thirteen words in his mind. He considered himself a writer. Dare he say a poet. He kept piles upon piles of journals of his writing, and where people could not suffice, pen and paper were his greatest confidants. As much as he liked pencils, pens were just- ironically more artistic; even if he had to scribble at the paper if he misspelled a word or accidentally placed the lettering way too close.

He clenched a few papers between his hands, skimming over the writing as he stood in wait for what might be a pinnacle moment of his life. There were too many mistakes in his mind- so many scribbles it seemed like a quarter of each page was just a section or a word, blacked out in ink. He sighed, inwardly admitting that staying up until two am in the morning writing this was a terrible idea it's not like the author is doing the EXACT same thing down to the hour, but he could just not wait. Thoughts seemed to be always running through his head at light speed, from dawn to dusk and in between his dreams like a sickness of his. This is when he started to pace around with the pages in his hand, having to really mentally prepare himself for what he set up on what seemed to be the first impromptu thought of his entire life so far.

Kuroiro had somehow deluded himself so hard that he decided that he was going to profess his feelings for you within the next moment. Or at the very least, his fond admiration for your pieces, large or small that create the entire puzzle. He had slipped a piece of plain notebook paper under your door, even; that's how casual he tried to seem about it, as it could mean a lot of different things under different connotations if you ask someone to meet you. It wasn't a fancy sort of greeting or letter like he would have spent countless hours imagining he would, but it would make due. His pen and paper were becoming restless in it's own right, sick of hearing the same thought in a different variant over and over and over again. He had decided to meet you about fifteen minutes before the dormitory curfew, as to both make it less inconvenient for you and to make sure he had an escape route if anything went wrong. Yet again, his mind seems to be in a race with everything around it, dreaming up every possibility. Every triumph, every pitfall. The churns in his stomach grew more intense as he began to doubt himself,

It didn't take too long for you to meet him, with the casually dressed notebook paper folded in one of your hands. You pocketed it, then closed the gap of distance between you and Kuroiro, standing in front of him with a curious look to the papers in his hand- and how he looked like how he was going to vomit up a hairball. It raised some eyebrows, sure; but you seemed to understand his nature- his mannerisms, his idiosyncrasies: you seemed to accept them as they were, with no complaints otherwise about who he was. Human. A breath of fresh air for a guy like him, really. He didn't even greet you properly for a moment, already seeming to clam up, enamored by your beauty. It took a couple seconds for him to actually remember why he brought the two of you here- but when he did, he slowly looked to the writing in front of him, starting to read it out. Unfortunately for you, it was incredibly difficult to decipher what he was actually saying- he used so many elusive synonyms that the average person wouldn't be familiar with in terms of linguistics, and he would often go back to read a part if he messed it up, or pause for a moment to try and figure out what he was trying to say himself. The more and more he talked, the more Kuroiro realized this the sole brainless idea he had in a very long time- at least in his book, so out of some sort of shame, he started getting quieter as he read. His posture crumpled up more than it was before, and he was mumbling so badly, that it was even hard for him to hear the words that were spewing out of his mouth as he tried to read back He dropped the small stack of papers, much to your confusion; then, much to his incredible embarrassment, he felt his legs start to buckle despite himself as he kneeled to the floor, covering his face with his hands and starting to mumble a little louder about how incredibly awkward this situation was and that you should just forget it ever happened. He couldn't anymore, everything seemed to catch up to him in his incredulity...

You kneeled down to the floor with him, starting to pick up the papers for him. His hand reflexively moved to instantly snatch the papers from you- to hide away and confide yet again in the caverns of pen and paper- but he stops himself, opting to ball his hand into a fist to do so as he starts on an attempt to quell his mild panicked breathing. He felt so... soppy. Dare he say even- pathetic in a way. It took a moment, but he eventually found the strength to look you in the eye, and they lock, the watercolor to his monochrome. You pick up the rest of the pages, and even if it is incredibly messy and out of order, you remember how he reached to grab them from you, and although it confused you on why he would do that, you respected him too much to pry; in a state where he was cracking on all sides of a sphere, where he looked so oddly vulnerable. If you weren't too preoccupied with being concerned about the way he was acting, it would have felt good, about how he seemed to trust you being within this state

"Hey..." you interjected, slowly starting to offer both your held papers; and your free outstretched hand over to Kuroiro, "Take the time you need. You'll find a way to say what you need to say... and I'll flag you down with signals so it won't- get lost within the waters."

You had sort of an idea what was happening- but you could ask for more context later, as Kuroiro seemed a little too nervewracked to answer your questions. He took the both of you off guard, as he shuffled a little closer, his own arms beginning to outstretch as he simply took your simple outstretched gesture to wrap his arms around you in a shakey but gentle embrace. In that very moment, he couldn't believe it but... no words could describe what he felt. He almost lost himself in trying to figure it out, but at the same time, you quelled the tide all the same as you held each-other there.