#i want to enjoy this fandom but it's giving me a major headache right now

[disdaidal]

Whoever sent me that ask about a Billy anti, I’m only going to answer you the same thing that I’ve answered others so many times before: block them or ignore them. It’s the best way to deal with them.

I am not going to publish that ask because it gives a direct link to a post and I don’t encourage bullying anyone - even if it’s a person with a ‘bad take’.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Kisses in the Morning Rain” Pt. IV

Fandom: Attack on Titan  Pairing: Eren x Reader  Words: 4k 

Warnings: Season 4 spoilers (namely for Part 1), canon divergence, Reader is a Titan Shifter, open discrimination against Eldians and Paradis, blood and violence, references to depression and coping with PTSD, disregard for said PTSD, mentions of past romantic feelings (which may or may not be reciprocated and/or still strong in the present tense) 

A/N: I’m *finally* back with another chapter, woohoo! I’m sorry this came out later than I originally intended. Right now I’m a bit preoccupied with writing my Levi/OC fic, so that’s taking most of my time when I’m not working on this story. I’m almost done with Part 5 but I might wait to post it until I have the majority of Part 6 written out, just so I’m not rushing myself. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It’s a bit of a slower one, but it gives (in my opinion anyway) a little bit of a break from the events of the last couple chapters. If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know and I’ll include you! (And if I forgot to tag anyone I’m incredibly sorry!) 

Taglist: @ranitani, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @katsies​, @lattebabie​

“Kisses in the Morning Rain” Masterlist 

The first thing you notice when you open your eyes is how cold the air is. Musty, damp, the scent of dirt strong against your nose. Your back is stiff, your shoulder hurts like hell.

You reach up and touch your forehead. At least the cut has healed.

A single lantern hangs in the corner of the room—on the other side of a set of steel bars. A prison cell, you realize with a shiver. Probably in the underground dungeons, directly below Mitras. Or at least, one of the districts of Wall Sina.

But why? Why are you still alive?

You don’t remember much after passing out. You remember falling in and out of sleep, hearing all kinds of voices speaking around you, none of them saying words that made any sense. You remember feeling cold, hard bands around your wrists, but when you glance down at them, you can’t see anything. You’re not chained to the wall or tied up or handcuffed in any way. Just trapped in a prison cell underground.

A cage, and you almost laugh bitterly.

There’s no one outside the cage, not even a couple of guards to keep watch. Why not? Even if the Scouts brought you back to Paradis and kept you alive as their prisoner, why wouldn’t they at least make sure you were being watched?

Never mind that. You can break out of this cell at any time, with the War Hammer’s power. Just one flick of your wrist and—

The gentle sound of footsteps echo through the hall. You sit up in the bed (the only piece of furniture in the cell, minus the sink and toilet) and watch as the newcomer steps into the light.

Your chest aches when you see Commander Hanji Zoë, staring at you through the bars of the cell with her one good eye.

You haven’t seen her since the day you left Paradis. Since the day the Scouts found out about the outside world. She’s changed in the last four years—not just her hairstyle, but that familiar glow of laughter in her eyes is gone. You faintly remember losing Moblit in the battle for Shiganshina; losing him must’ve been a huge blow for her.

She sighs softly, before leaning against the wall directly across your cell. She’s dressed in a familiar green overcoat that reaches down to her knees, with the Wings of Freedom sewn over the chest pocket and sleeves. You remember wearing those wings once, and actually being proud of them.

The memory makes you want to cry.

“Why did you keep me alive?”

Hanji hangs her head. “It was Eren’s idea.”

Your temples start to pound with a headache. Wasn’t Eren going to eat you back in Marley? Use the Jaw Titan’s teeth to crush your Titan’s crystal to pieces and steal the War Hammer Titan from you? It makes no sense for him to want to bring you back to Paradis alive, rather than devouring you right there on the battlefield. He must know of the danger you pose to Paradis and the rest of its citizens; in fact, all of the Scouts should know that by now. So why bring you back with them in the first place?

“It’s been a while,” Hanji says weakly, offering you a slight smile. Not like the ones she’s given you in the past, full of hope and pride and affection. “How’ve you been?”

Your gaze drops to the ground. Why is she asking you something like this? You don’t know how to respond, so you simply shrug your shoulders at her.

“I see…” She sighs again and sinks to the ground in a sitting position. You follow suit, the ends of your festival dress brushing against the steel bars. “Eren told me what happened that day…after you left.”

Of course he did. You cross your arms against your knees, hugging them to your chest. Hanji takes your silence as a sign to continue—and honestly, the sound of her voice is somewhat soothing, even after all this time.

“It didn’t make sense at first, why you would leave with them. We didn’t suspect you with Reiner and the others, when the Female Titan attacked for the first time. You never gave us any reason to suspect you; we never had a Titan to link you to.” She laughs a little at that part, and suddenly you’re reminded of her love for Titans beyond the Walls, and you wonder if she still has that wild spark inside of her somewhere. “You insisted you didn’t know anything, even when we questioned you about it. You’re a very capable liar, I suppose.”

Liar, hero, heir, traitor. So many words have been used to describe you over the years, and not a single one of them were false.

“You never interfered with our plans to attack the Armored and Colossal Titans in Shiganshina, nor did you stop us from trying to take on the Beast Titan. And yet…you never shared any of your intel with us. Never helped us with our strategies, never warned us of what the enemy could do next.”

“There was nothing to share,” you mumble into the crook of your arm. “You figured it out pretty fast, Commander.”

She scoffs at the title. “Maybe so, but we could’ve used your help. Maybe we could’ve saved a few lives, back in Shiganshina.”

You know instantly she’s thinking of Moblit. Of Erwin, the previous Commander of the Survey Corps, and the countless other Scouts who perished on that day. Is their blood on your hands, as well?

“Still,” she continues, “you left with them in the end. Even after you told the Beast Titan you wouldn’t.”

So why?

Suddenly, you want to tell her everything. The possibility of seeing Fine again, the tarnished reputation of your family’s name, the promise of glory upon returning to Marley—and even the pain that grew in your chest that day, with every passing moment, until you finally said goodbye to Eren in the middle of the night.

But what good will come of it? Who is she to have pity on you, especially at a time like this? To someone like you, who’s killed more Scouts and civilians both directly and indirectly, thanks to your involvement with Marley? Who sat by and watched as your fellow Scouts struggled to understand the concept of intelligent Titans, to even consider the possibility of Titan Shifters in the first place. You, who could’ve played a huge role in bringing glory to Paradis and the rest of humanity on the island, saving at least a hundred lives in the process…

But you didn’t. You were a bystander until the end—until you ran home like a coward, seeking refuge across the sea.

“Listen,” Hanji finally says, and your head jerks up at her voice, “I’m well aware that you were probably in the same boat as Reiner. You were mostly likely forced to do Marley’s bidding without any will of your own. So I don’t blame you for that. However,” there’s an edge to her voice now, “the same cannot be said for the way you abandoned us. After so many years of fighting against Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie…why would you go back to them at the very end?”

You reach down and start to pick at a loose thread of your skirt, the frayed ends barely clinging to the fabric. Hanji’s staring at you intently now, silently demanding an answer from you.

You have no business obeying her; she’s not your Commander anymore.

And yet, you find yourself mumbling out, “Because I couldn’t bear to stay here.”

For the first time in all the years you’ve known her, Hanji is stunned to silence. Slowly, you raise yourself off the ground and dust off the skirt of your dress, meeting her gaze and struggling to keep calm.

“You already know I’m a Tybur. One of the most influential Eldian families within Marley. I was selected to carry the burden of the War Hammer Titan and use it to steal the Founder away from the citizens of Paradis. But once we actually started that mission…” Tears cling to your eyelashes, threatening to drip down your cheeks. “…I realized that it couldn’t be done. We were kids, Hanji. I was a kid. And I didn’t want to answer for Marley’s sins anymore!”

Your head is pounding something fierce now, electric jolts flooding your veins. You can feel your Titan surging forward at the fury, but you will it to stay back and contain itself. There’s no use in breaking out now and running the risk of possibly killing Hanji. Not when she’s shown a bit of mercy towards you.

“So I played dumb. I didn’t want anything to do with Reiner or Bertholdt, so I pretended to be one of you. I wanted to forget about Marley and just pretend I was an Eldian. None of you knew you were Eldians, good or bad…you were just people! And I wanted to be a part of that.”

Everything comes crashing down on you at once. Training with the 104th cadets, acting like the kids you were. Sharpening your blades just in time to defend the city of Trost, when the Colossal Titan mysteriously appeared once more. Battling Annie in Stohess District in her Titan form, and solidifying your loyalty to the Scouts and Paradis—and watching the sick betrayal wallow up in her Titan’s eyes at the realization.

Everything else from that moment on followed suit: your rejection of Reiner and Bertholdt, your determination to defend Eren and Historia, and your refusal to return home in the end with Reiner and Zeke. Only, you had betrayed that sense of loyalty to the Scouts, as well as Paradis. You had abandoned them when they needed you the most, damning your name on the island of devils.

“Zeke found me and Eren, after the battle. He said my family wanted me to come home, and I thought of my cousin—she’s more like a sister now, and the other kids… They were still waiting for me to come home! And I didn’t want to leave them without at least saying goodbye first! But…I never found the chance to come back, like I planned…”

It wasn’t as though you’d be welcomed back with open arms, anyway. From the way Eren looked at you that night, green eyes filled with tears, angry red Titan marks etched on his skin… You knew you would never be allowed to return to this island alive.

So then…why was it Eren who insisted on bringing you back with him?

An unsettling silence forms between the two of you. Hanji clears her throat and leans against the wall again, while you rest your forehead on the cold steel bars. Your Titan’s energy has died a little, the thrumming less pronounced beneath your skin. At least you’re in control again, you remind yourself. But it doesn’t do anything to lessen the pain in your chest.

“…You always did seem a little out of place with them.” You glance up at Hanji, who manages to smile at you through the bars of the cell. “With Reiner and Bertholdt, I mean. You always seemed to fit so well with Eren and Armin and Mikasa.”

…I did? You never thought of yourself as one of them, even before learning about Eren’s Attack Titan ability. You never deemed yourself worthy enough to be considered as part of their group, no matter how much Eren insisted you were.

“Also,” she adds, with a sly smile stretching across her face, “you were attached to the hip with Eren. I’m surprised Mikasa never got jealous of you, honestly.”

Words that intend to bring up a happy memory, maybe even a sense of longing for the past. But instead you sink to your knees in the dirt of your cell, wrapping your arms around your upper half. The tears come hard and fast, cascading down your cheeks like little rivers.

You don’t want to live in Marley. You don’t want to go back to that horrible place.

You don’t want to stay in Paradis with the people you betrayed. The people who treated you as one of their own for the longest time.

You don’t want to be stuck in this endless war anymore. A cycle of hate that keeps on living, two different kinds of people always clawing at each other’s throats. You don’t want to be a pawn in their game anymore.

You don’t want to be the head of the Tybur family. You don’t want to use the power of the War Hammer Titan, not even to break yourself out of this damned cell.

You don’t want to fall asleep at night, thinking of the countless people you’ve murdered over the years. You don’t want to scrape your hands raw beneath the running water every time you visit the washroom, trying so hard to clean the blood off your skin, even when you can’t see it anymore. You can still feel it, no matter how many times you wash them off—you don’t want to feel it anymore.

All you want is to spend the last four years of your life with the green-eyed boy you used to love, in the little cabin at the heart of an unknown forest, just as you’ve always dreamed about.

Eren Jaeger. After all these years, you’re still in love with Eren Jaeger.

Hanji watches you from the other side of the bars, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The Hanji from before, the one who didn’t know you were part of Marley’s Warrior Unit yet, would sink to her knees alongside you and pull you close to her chest for a hug.

But you don’t expect her to do anything like that; not when she knows you can kill her at any second.

Still, she doesn’t leave without saying a few more words: “This cell is beneath Stohess District, just so you know. You won’t do much good trying to break out—so please, try not to do so.”

You barely have the strength to nod as she turns away and disappears down the hall. Only when you hear the heavy door slam shut do you bury your face into your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as the War Hammer’s power thrums to life beneath your skin.

“How is she faring, doctor?”

You can hear the man’s voice on the other side of the door, soft and gentle as he speaks to your aunt. “A little shaken up, but she’ll be fine. I suggest you give her some time, though. God only knows what she’s seen over there.”

Over there. On the other side of the sea, on the island of devils.

“But I wouldn’t worry,” the doctor continues, and you can just imagine him shaking his head. “She’s a strong girl. She’ll get through it eventually.”

“I hope so.” You can hear your aunt sigh, and your hands curl into fists on your lap. “She’ll forget about the time spent over there, I’m sure. It must’ve been hard for her, surrounded by so many devils. Pretending to be one of them.”

But you are one of them. Whether you live on one side of the sea or the other, they’re all the same. They share the same blood of the devil, the same curse they were born with.

But it won’t do you any good to point that out to your aunt. As caring and understanding that she can be, she has little tolerance for talk about the Eldians living on the other side of the ocean. Those are the cursed Eldians, while the ones in Marley (like your own family’s bloodline) are the honored ones. The ones blessed to live in a place like Marley to begin with. The ones that can travel freely throughout the nation, and not just trapped within the gates of Liberio.

The ones not confined by a cage.

But it still feels as though you’re in one.

So you snap your lips shut and wait for your aunt to finish talking to the doctor. You’ll go along with whatever treatment they have planned for you, to help you with the nightmares and episodes. It’ll be better for everyone if you don’t mention anything from that damned island at all, much less the devils living there. The last thing you want is to upset Fine and the other children with horrible talk like that.

They are the devils, you remind yourself, over and over again as the months crawl by. They are the devils of the world. It’s their fault we’re in this mess to begin with.

But in the dead of night, curled up in your bed with nothing but the shadows to keep you company, you can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, as the memories come flooding back, one by one.

They are all devils—but so are we.

So am I.

The days pass by slowly. You remain in your cell, offered meager meals and water twice every single day from a pair of guards. But then you’re left to your own devices once more, staring at the lone lantern hanging from the corner of the cell.

Hanji comes to visit you a few more times. You half-expect her to drag Captain Levi down here with her one of these days, just so he can beat the living hell out of you for your betrayal. You wouldn’t be surprised—you just aren’t exactly looking forward to it. But he doesn’t visit you.

Neither does Eren. Although, you don’t really expect him to, at this point.

Armin visits you one day, and at first you almost don’t recognize him. His hair is cut shorter than you remember, styled in an undercut, and his eyes have lost that hopeful blue luster. But he still tries to smile at you, when he greets you from the other side of your cell.

“I think I get it, now,” he mumbles, as the two of you take a seat on either side of the bars. “Why you guys did what you did…on that day.”

The day Wall Maria fell…the day Shiganshina fell to the Titans. The memories make you shudder.

Of course, Armin would try to understand you. He was always the most empathetic, forming a bond with you at the first opportunity. The two of you always had a special connection, nowhere near as emotional and intimate as the one you shared with Eren, but something else entirely. Something else that was still just as special to you. Throughout your years on Paradis, you never once regretted meeting Armin Arlert.

You ask him the same question you asked Hanji, and he answers you with downcast eyes: “Eren thought you could be useful to our cause—that’s why he managed to convince Commander Hanji and Captain Levi to keep you down here.”

You can only scoff and shake your head. “Then why was he prepared to kill me back then, in Liberio? He was going to take the War Hammer Titan for himself…so why didn’t he do it when he had the chance?”

Armin sighs in defeat, lowering his head to the dirt below. “I…I think he might still have a soft spot for you.”

Now that is completely unrealistic. Armin’s usually smarter than this—has he hit his head or something?

There’s no way in hell Eren Jaeger has a soft spot for you. Not after everything you’ve put him through. Not after you left him in the middle of the forest that night, angry tears streaming down his cheeks, fists rigid against the collar of your shirt. You remember it all too well, and even after all this time, the swirl of guilt has never left your stomach.

You wonder if he wants to kill you himself, once this is all over.

“He hates me,” you spit out, “I’m sure of it. You heard about what happened that night, didn’t you? How I left him and the Survey Corps behind?” To go back to Reiner and Zeke, so we could escape back to Marley?

“He told us,” Armin replies without missing a beat, “but I’m sure you had your reasons. You were probably threatened, weren’t you? You probably still have a family over there…”

His voice trails off awkwardly at the mention of them. Anger sears through your veins as you remember your uncle, broken and bloody as the Attack Titan swallowed him whole. Your uncle, who planned to die before the night was up, leaving the rest of his family behind to pave the way for Marley’s survival.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you growl, pressing your palms into the dirt. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see them again. I’m not making it out of this cell, am I?”

Armin opens his mouth to object…then snaps it shut soon after. He heaves another sigh, and you know right then and there, that you’re not walking away from Paradis any time soon.

“They’re still deciding on what to do with you,” he finally breaks the silence. “Either to keep you as a prisoner or give the War Hammer to another soldier…or maybe to Eren himself.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Of course, that would be their plan. Eren tried to do the same thing in Liberio, so why not just help him along and—

“But he refused.”

“…What?”

“He said he didn’t want your Titan. He didn’t want its power…at least, not yet. So I guess that buys you a little more time in here.”

He doesn’t…want to inherit the War Hammer Titan? It makes no sense—why would he try to devour you back in Liberio, but not do it now, when you’re weakened and incapable of fighting back? Now is the perfect opportunity to take the War Hammer from you, and he’s just throwing it away like it’s nothing.

“But why wouldn’t he take it for himself? And don’t say it’s because he has a soft spot,” your lip curls at those final words, and Armin winces beneath your gaze. “There has to be another reason.”

Armin clears his throat before rising from his seat. He brushes the dirt off his coat, blue eyes fixed on you the entire time.

“I suppose you can ask him that yourself. But if you want my opinion,” he smiles weakly, and for a moment you see a flash of the mischievous boy you once knew inside the Walls, his eyes the color of the sea’s salty waves, “I don’t think he’s completely let go of the past.”

What does he mean by that? Does Eren still despise you for betraying the Scouts, for leaving Paradis for Marley in the dead of night? For breaking his heart after you made him promise to live with you once the war was over? For giving him false hope that you could lead a somewhat normal life once the Titans were defeated in the battle for Shiganshina?

Or…is there something else to Armin’s words, something he’s not outright telling you? Is it possible that Eren, even after all this time and everything you made him suffer through, still looks at you and sees the young girl from the 104th Training Corps? The one who made him smile and held back his arm when he threatened to fight with Jean, the one that bared her blades at a moment’s notice, ready to protect him alongside Mikasa? The one he shared a silly tavern room with the night before the battle, the one he promised to live together with once this damn war was over?

Maybe Armin’s right, as crazy as it sounds. Maybe, after all these years, Eren still sees you as the girl he once loved.  

Well, I suppose that makes two of us.

But Armin’s gone before you can ask him anything more. The heavy door slams at the end of the hall, echoing through the darkness. You turn to rest on the bed in the corner, to mull over what he’s just told you—but then you hear something else, a soft sound through the shadows.

Another pair of footsteps, closing in on the cell. You hold your breath and face the newcomer head-on, your blood singing in your veins.

“…Eren.”

[david-talks-sw]

Firstly, I want to say I think your posts are insightful and enlightening (and save me from headaches too.)

My question for you is this: sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy in this fandom, and wondering if sometimes you do as well? It seems that a majority of Star Wars fans, save for those few of us here on Tumblr, have notions about the Jedi that for one, don't feel right with me, but also that don't seem very accurate to what we're seeing in Lucas' original works.

I know it's a matter of perspective, but it often feels like I'm some strange outlier for how I see Star Wars compared to several others. It sometimes makes me feel like my interpretations are wrong/invalid. Do these thoughts and feelings ever come up for you?

Hi there!

First off thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoy my posts :D !

Regarding whether I get this weird feeling of being an outlier in the Star Wars fandom… yeah, all the time.

Which is why I'm very grateful for this pro-Jedi community on Tumblr. Makes it less lonely, and you get to enjoy more meta, fanfic & art made by people who have a view of Star Wars similar to your own.

The flip side of this...

(minor rant incoming)

... is that it's also so goddamn irritating for me to watch any Star Wars YouTuber videos, for instance. I mean, I already went on my thoughts about 'em here, but it's really triggering to me when these guys who call themselves experts and publicly hold George Lucas as this messianic figure, just casually throw out sentences such as: "the Prequel Jedi, who were corrupt and dogmatic and emotionless and ignored Anakin's cries for help".

Like, it's frustrating because they either:

haven't read a single Lucas quote in their life...

or don’t give a shit about what Lucas said, which is totally cool, but then don’t sit there and say you’re a “Lucas purist”, whatever that means.

I always try to make this clear: if that interpretation makes the Prequels better for you, I am happy for you. I used to see them like that, I get the appeal. Go to town.

But don’t tell your viewers your headcanon = what the artist intended, cuz that’s just spreading misinformation and bastardizing the story.

What really irks me is that I sometimes notice how some SW writers who grew up with "Luke being this chosen one who represents what an ideal Jedi is like" really try to prop him up and preserve what made him special to them... by putting down the PT Jedi and framing them as "dogmatic & dispassionate & wrong".

When - if you're from my generation - chances are, there's really no need to do that, because you'll have grown up with BOTH trilogies. So these narratives are only really done to satisfy people who grew up on the OT.

And, like (on a really childish primal level), this line of thought usually gets me thinking "why do you get to keep your childhood hero unblemished, but I gotta accept that mine are gonna be framed as "corrupt" for as long as the PT is touched upon?"

And I get wanting to "challenge the notion that the Jedi are paragons of virtue", I really do... but we've been challenging it since 2008, now.

How about we start challenging the idea that the "Jedi were evil", now? That they weren't "no better than the Sith"?

How about a scene in the Dark Times where a prisoner berates a jailed Quinlan Vos or Cal Kestis about them being warmongers and Quin/Cal just goes on a Doctor Who-worthy tirade about how "We were framed! We were trying to help! Innocent people were getting enslaved and slaughtered, the walls were closing in and we still did our best and fought for you guys! Cuz what else were we gonna do, let everyone die?"

How about a scene where Trace and Rafa meet Luminara again, and have all this pent-up anger against her, but Lumi sacrifices herself and lets herself be captured by the Grand Inquisitor so they can run?

So... yeah. I do get these feelings.

But hey... as you point out in this ask, there's a strong pro-Jedi community here. And I am very grateful for it.

Just as there's these moments where this franchise which I really love disappoints me, there's moments where it makes me dream, and there's this group of people here who write magnificent meta and thoughtful posts and draw amazing fan-art which makes it all the more enjoyable.

Point is, I try to focus on the positives ^^'

[writteninsunshine]

He’s Going The Distance - Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters - SFWish

Title: He’s Going The Distance

Author: Reno

Fandom: Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Setting: Medbay, Post-Dulvey Incident

Pairing: Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters

Characters: Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Random Nurse

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1386

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part of the For All These Times series, Whump Bingo Fill #2

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Pre-Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociating, Blood, Deep Wounds, Trans Male Character, Trans!Ethan Winters, Possible OOC for Chris, Medical Equipment, Medical Treatment, Stitches, Sutures, I.V.s, Pain Meds

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: Was Ethan truly so used to pain that he didn't notice that?

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

More whump fic bingo! I’m really enjoying these, they’re too much fun to write. Oops, I like to punish Ethan even if he doesn’t deserve it. He’s so whumpable. I hope you guys are enjoying this, I know I sure am. This one is for my editor, Gryph, who is the best editor I could ever ask for. MAJOR shout out to her!

Resident Evil Fic Masterlist

Ethan Whump Bingo Fic Masterlist

He’s Going The Distance

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was an old thought resurfacing as Chris looked at Ethan. A man who could live through anything was what S.T.A.R.S. had wanted, Ethan would have been welcomed into the fold. The man was a machine when it came to surviving anything. Despite this, he seemed too oblivious to notice when something was wrong with him. All the healing fluid in the world couldn’t help the man with how much constant pain wracked his body. It was almost impossible to discern one pang of pain from the rest. That hand was a nasty wound, the staples not quite sanitary when they’d been secured into his skin.

But that wasn’t what he’d noticed just now.

“Ethan,” He began, his voice soft and wary as if speaking too loudly might shatter the other man. “You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” His voice sounded exhausted, hoarse, and so soft Chris barely heard him.

Tugging him closer for inspection, he unbuttoned Ethan’s shirt and pulled it away like a pair of curtains. Yanking up the undershirt he wore, Chris paused a moment to stare. Unable to help how his fingers splayed over the other’s stomach, eyes taking in the thick scars beneath his pecs. His thoughts turned away from the injury for a second, he only stopped when he reached the center of Ethan’s chest. He took in the soft peach fuzz there with a quirk of his lips he wasn’t in control of. Finally, his fingers fell over the thick gash leaking over Ethan’s pale skin, and the touch made Ethan recoil some. 

“Don’t,” Chris warned, eyes narrowing a little as he reached around, pulling Ethan close again by his waist, a hand on his middle back, “You’re hurt. I’ll fix you right up.” 

Leaving Ethan for a moment, he returned with a basin of warm water and a few washcloths. Where he’d gotten them from, Ethan didn’t know, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Dragging one wet cloth over the blood, he cleaned Ethan up despite his hisses and gasps of pain. What was the best option was going to hurt, so Chris started by applying a local anesthetic gel to the area around the wound. He must have found it when he brought the rest of his supplies, Ethan figured. He winced, flinching when Chris’s hands got too close to the weeping injury, but he sucked in a deep breath and bit the thin skin on the inside of his lip. It was all he could do to keep himself from making any more noise.

“I’m going to have to give you stitches.” Honestly, Chris was worried that Ethan was going to start leaking organs. It was deep, and he could almost touch the other’s rib bones. Ethan had really taken a beating, and it was hard to fathom how he hadn’t noticed this. Then again, he was in shock after everything that had happened, after all of the mental and physical trauma he had taken. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange occurrence. 

After all, he was a civilian. He hadn’t been meant to find these kinds of things. If he had stayed away, he would have been blissfully unaware, but there might have been a worse problem on Chris’ hands by the time they arrived at the scene.

“Okay.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Ethan nodded just slightly to save him from aggravating his pounding headache, “Just… Do it quickly. I don’t feel good.” Swaying, he felt his knees begin to buckle, and Chris caught him in a tight embrace. This wasn’t going to work with Ethan standing, anyway.

Hefting him up bridal style, Chris carried Ethan like he weighed nothing. Sitting him down on a nearby gurney, he removed his shirts and set them aside. They were stained, torn to hell, and bloody. He’d have to get him a change of clothes. Helping ease him to lay down so that his right side was facing out, he ran a hand over the other’s chest in a hope to help calm him. Maybe it wasn’t entirely innocent, but he was trying to stay focused here.

“This might hurt, but I promise I’ll be quick.” All Chris got in return was a soft murmur he couldn’t hear, let alone understand. If nothing else, Chris was efficient, and Ethan looked like he was going to faint. That might help him do this without Ethan bellyaching the whole time. Stepping away, Chris grabbed a first aid kit, opening it up and setting it beside Ethan on the cot. Digging out a needle, some antiseptic, and surgical thread, he worked the thread through the eye of the needle and set to work.

The laceration was likely already infected, if not by something typical, then by the mold Ethan had been exposed to. With a little sigh, Chris poured some of the liquid over it, making sure to use gauze to get it inside. The forceps he had grabbed entering it made Ethan grunt, but he was too tired to try and fight it. Chris diligently worked on cleaning him up, wiping at more blood before grabbing the sterilized needle. He wiped it down again with a clean antiseptic wipe before starting with the initial stick. Ethan didn’t seem to notice this, due to the numbing gel, and Chris was glad for it.

With the easy glide of the needle and his skillful hands, he made quick work of the stitches, hoping not to bother Ethan too much. Once they were tight, he cut the cord and cleaned up the wound once more, wiping away the gel with a few medical towelettes, before drying the area. To make sure it would stay clean, he rubbed another cloth damp with warm water on the site before running more of the wipes over it. A dry rag then worked over the glistening flesh, and he didn’t stop until he had patted him dry.

“Ethan, I need you to sit up. I have to wrap this.” Chris spoke, breaking the silence in the room they were in. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ethan had fallen asleep, or maybe passed out, so he had no choice but to gently shake him awake. “Ethan, you have to sit up.”

Ethan nodded absently, slowly pushing himself up with the other’s aid. Bracing himself on his shaking arms, he let Chris wrap him up with gauze from his stomach to his shoulders, surprised by his gentle hands. Once Ethan was bandaged up, he was allowed to lay back once more, and Chris didn’t think about his next action. Kissing Ethan’s forehead gently, he petted a hand over the skin and the other’s sweat-damp hair.

“You should be alright, now. I’ll keep an eye on this.” Voice quiet, he smiled slightly, hoping to keep him at ease. It didn’t seem like Ethan was going to panic, though, too worn down to do much but flutter his eyelashes. “Sleep, now. I’ll get you some pain killers when you wake up.” God knew he’d need them. Moving the gurney around so that he could be more comfortable and closer to the setup for the I.V., Chris sighed in relief. Already asleep, or so he hoped.

Settling in a nearby chair, Chris pulled out his phone. He’d be stuck here for a while, for sure. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, he’d been set to guard Ethan while his tests were being done.

Ethan didn’t wake for what felt like hours, and when he did it was with a groan of pain. Chris was quick to give him water and a shot of morphine that he was instructed to administer through the I.V. that a nurse had given Ethan. At the very least, he was going to be taken care of.

“Thanks.” Ethan managed, his voice cracking halfway through. 

“You need care.” That much was obvious. Chris combed a hand through the other’s blond locks once more. “If that means I have to do it, then so be it.” There was an odd fondness he felt for Ethan in this moment, watching him nod, his eyes glassy and distant. “You’ll be okay.”

With any luck, he’d bounce back from this. He’d been through hell already, what was another ordeal to save him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: There we go! It’s not super shippy but I’ll still tag it, just in case. Also, this probably makes more pain for the start of The Village, but that’s okay. I might write something about it when I’ve seen more of the game. I got it preordered for my birthday but it’s at my friend’s house until I can see her again. I’ve been watching it, however, so I’ll get there eventually. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Prompt: Ethan Doesn’t Realize He’s Injured

[willowcrowned]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @tessiete

Tagging: @mandaloriandy @outpastthemoat @phoenixyfriend

Remember to make a new post!

How many works do you have on AO3?

48, thirteen of which have been made anonymous.

What's your total AO3 word count?

260,698

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On Ao3? 12, including Star Wars (obvs), FMAB, Twilight, The Silmarillion, LOTR, Much Ado About Nothing, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Narnia, The Arcana, VLD (yes, I know), Buzzfeed Unsolved.

In my drafts folder? WAY more. (one day I'll finish you post-OoT Link character study... one day..)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Paternal Relations, Leap of Faith, (Arguable) Flirting, To Catch a Serial Killer, and Being an Investigation of Sorts into the Supernatural and the Supernaturally Stupid

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Not all of them, because that's something I don't have the energy for. (Fic writers who do respond to all comments—I have the greatest admiration for you, and also how the hell do you do it.) I always respond if it's particularly thoughtful or insightful, and I'll usually respond if it's a joke. I don't bother for an emoji or an 'I liked it.'

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Ehm... I don't really do angst. I do have something in my WIP folder that'll end pretty angstily if I ever get around to it. I think my anonymous Narnia or VLD fics? Maybe the anonymous Silmarillion one?

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

Not as real fic. As not!fics on tumblr? Absolutely. I'm going to go with the fmab/TPM crossover, because that's the silliest one that comes to mind immediately.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've only ever received "hate" once, and it was the funniest comment I've ever read (not intentionally, unfortunately for them), so I have it screenshotted for when I need a good laugh.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, primarily pwp. I think that emotionally-driven smut that functions as a device for a character study is some of the best, most compelling smut out there. Unfortunately, my smut writing interests lie in a different direction—a hornier one.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, but now I feel like I should go check.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Smoking_breath did a russian translation of Paternal Relations!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I'm a bit of a control freak, and very particular about style to boot, so there's really only ben one time I've considered it and it was with someone who I was sharing a braincell with.

What's your all time favorite ship?

Oof. I don't really do OTPs, so I don't have an answer for this.

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

I hesitate to say never, because there's always a chance I'll come back to it, but I have a Princess Bride AU in my WIPs folder that's nearly done that I probably won't touch. (It needs major rewrites, but I do like the premise, which is that Buttercup decides to vent all her grief via grabbing a sword and whacking at things, so who knows.)

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and humor! I think I've got a really good hold on how to pace writing so that jokes land really well, and I think I'm also pretty good at figuring out where to put dialogue tags and such so a conversation proceeds with the pauses where I want them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I really struggle with anything character driven. (For context, the last character-driven thing I tried stopped at 20k, but that 20k took me several hundred hours of writing time.) I don't know why that is, but I do know that writing something character-driven is like wrestling with a sugar-crazed five year old covered in oil, and whatever comes out inevitably needs major rewrites. I get a little better every time I try, though! Maybe in thirty years I'll actually be able to do it without giving myself a headache every time I open the doc.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Unless I know the language, I won't do it, and even then I think it can be really dicey. A lot of the time, a foreign language will take me out of the reading experience—not just because it can be hard to understand, but because the author has no idea how people actually use a second language. A really good example of that (and the one I see the most) is pet names.

Unless it makes sense within the context of the characters (e.x. two characters that share a heritage using a pet name from that heritage's language as a means of connecting to each other), I find pet names really take me out of it. I have never in my life been speaking English with someone and then called them a pet name in Hebrew (which, even though I'm not fluent, is the language that I've been called pet names in by my family and is the language I'd use for a pet name). When someone switches languages mid-sentence just to call someone a pet name in a language they don't know, it can read as a little... odd.

Foreign language use gets even dicier when I do speak the language and I can tell that the author doesn't. I've put down fics because they had no clue what they were doing with the Hebrew or the French. If your character is supposed to be fluent and they're making mistakes with gender, then I'm not going to be able to pay attention to the actual story and will instead be trying to format a comment in my head to tell you in the nicest way possible that your grammar is wrong.

So: I don't use it in my fics. I think it can be used to great effect when done right (see: insight into a character's relationship with their past, heritage, etc. (also for comedy, because there's nothing quite like "can you hand me the—the—fuck. The סוכר?" "the sugar?" "oh my god it's the same fucking word in english.")), but on the whole, I'm iffy about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Technically Avalon: Web of Magic, which I did in fourth grade with a friend. We didn't know what fanfiction was though, so I'm not sure if it counts.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I'm quite fond of Smoke Raised with the Fume of Sighs right now, but more as something I'm enjoying writing than something I'd like reading. It's my first real foray into posting as I go, and it's the first time I've done chapetered fic in a while. It's also great fun, character-wise.

Other than that, I still very much enjoy Paternal Relations. It's got some fun lines.

[espoir-et-reves]

hi maria!!!

i LOVE your work and wanna pick your brain :)) for the writing asks:

1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, 11, 13, 20, 32, 35, & 39

hope your day is going well!!!!! <3333

Yooo Nadia what’s up?? No, nope I LOVE YOURS and I’d let you pick my brain but I doubt you’d make much sense of the chaos in there. Even I don’t 😂😂 okay so on with the q&a

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? 

Hmm I think I started reading fanfiction when I was in middle school? I’m pretty sure the first few fanfics I ever read were Harry Potter and Supernatural fics. I was SO into those fandoms back then (still am tbh)

The first fics I wrote were in high school if I remember correctly. Harry Potter and k-pop, more precisely a few EXO x reader fics lmao

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

It depends on the day I think. On some days I have no motivation to write, so I just lose myself in reading fanfics. Other days I spend hours upon hours of writing and doing research for my fanfics, wips and YA stories. 

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Just three??? Blasphemous but okay...

Daughter of Fire by the amazing @justjstuff -- one of my TOP favorite KakaSaku fics and also Naruto fanfics in general. Always makes my day when I see an update^^

Deep Within the Trees; Under the Boughs & Blossoms by candy_floss_consumer (I’m sorry I don’t know if they’re on tumblr) The entire series of a Different Wave is just so magical and so well written but especially this one. Gave me chills on every single chapter.

Take your pick between The Shadows of Your Heart and Dying Embers by @riseoftheblossom-ff . Just amazing.

Also take a pick from your fics. I love them^^

(I only listed fics from the Naruto fandom, because I’ve been more invested in them for the past couple of years.)

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

I HATE a huge block of just words. Please, people, change paragraphs, use “ ” when someone’s talking and for the love of everything you find holy, do tell us who is thinking what and who is speaking when there are more than two characters in a scene. 

The lack of paragraphs especially drives me mad... like I don’t care if it’s the best story I may ever read, I’m not doing it, sorry.

Thank you, sincerely Maria❤

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

Not as often as I should tbh. Especially before I began uploading my fics, I was too shy to leave a review. Still am, but I’m trying to leave comments more often bc I understand how much they can lift the writer’s mood. 

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Favorite fandoms: Naruto, Supernatural, Harry Potter, The Mortal Instruments

Favorite pairings: I’m a MultiSaku hoe so I read EVERYTHING, Dean/Castiel + Meg/Castiel, Draco/Hermione, Magnus/Alec!!

Favorite character: BAMF Sakura, Cas my little angel baby, Hermione bc we love BAMF witches and Magnus Bane the High Warlock of Brooklyn y’all✨

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

Hahahhahahahha good question. It’s the hardest thing tbh. Sometimes I just google for a title generator, other times I sit down for a couple hours and beg for my brain to come up with something good...

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

*snorts* not just a headache, it’ll be a damn explosion. I do have a rough outline for my fics, I even have the major scenes I want in a chapter written down and an ending and all that. Thing is... my mind hates me and I change everything at least three times, so I decided to just go with the flow. 

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Honestly? just the fact that I’m writing. Especially when my brain wants to work with me and creativity just hits. I also enjoy doing research for my fics, but more often than not, it leads to distractions because I fall too into whatever I’m searching for😂

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

“He didn’t smile back at me,” Sakura pouted and stabbed the rabbit meat on her plate with unnecessary force. --- A running joke in A Tale of Songs and Ashes is that Sakura has vowed to make Madara smile at her and she tries to get a reaction out of him every time they meet. This line started everything. 

Across from him Shikamaru was smoking a cigarette, lazily observing the people around him. The sharp look he received from said boy though had him taken aback. He followed the Nara’s eyes landing on Sakura and Sasuke, before turning back to him. Shikamaru shook his head, resigned and offered Neji a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke,” he replied.

Shikamaru shrugged, “It could help with the homicidal thoughts.” --- This interaction basically is one of my favorites from Nightstrolls because it kinda highlights Neji’s and Shika’s frienship in the fic and the fact that Shikamaru often makes fun of Neji’s crush on Sakura.

Gai’s laughter filled the air around them, “What a youthful child! Shisui-kun I didn’t know Uchiha came out in spring colours as well!” --- From Trials of Change I don’t think it needs an explanation. Gai just being Gai😂

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

Oh so damn much! I think it’s the only thing that kept me from falling apart during quarantine and the COVID-19 crisis. Writing really helped my mental health when it comes to dealing with all the stress and even members of my family falling ill and dying. 

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Uh, I don’t know? My readers usually tell me that I have an interesting way of writing -- whatever that means. So since they like it, I do as well? 

Also, I try to make the characters more realistic, give them backstories and emotions and hobbies etc. I like that😊

Thank you so much for your questions!! Sending you lots of love💕

[gautierprotectionsquad]

Crossover fic: Cut&Run / AFTG. Ty Grady/Zane Garrett. Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten. Trying my best at being canon compliant.

Summary: Ty and Zane work in the Baltimore offices of the FBI. Neil Josten was taken in by the FBI in Baltimore. This crossover was practically handed right to me and the only reason no one has wrote it is bc of the lack of overlap between fandoms. Hope someone enjoys.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation in Baltimore have been after The Butcher for over 10 years. They knew it was Nathan Wesninski but were never able to gather enough evidence to convince. Well, Mr. Wesninski had just returned home from prison and the FBI were ready with a welcome home present just for him. Or at least so they thought.

Ty Grady stood, pointed his gun, ready to shoot while someone shouted "FBI. PUT YOUR HANDS UP" and agents entered the building. Someone was sitting in a chair in front of Nathan Wesninski's house. As he got closer, Ty realized that they were bleeding, another couple steps, realized they were tied to the chair.

He was just a boy. The boy smiled, crazed.

  "My name is Nathaniel Wesninski and my father is dead." The boy couldn't stop laughing.

Agents left the building. One of them said "sir, everyone was dead when we walked in. No survivors. Confirmed that one of the bodies was Wesninski's.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  ***

  "I wasn't even aware Wesninki had a kid," Zane said as he watched Nathaniel through the 2-sided mirror.

   "No one did. This is so fucked up. Tortured his own damn kid." Ty couldn't jeep the anger out of his voice. He came in first thing to see how the kid was doing, wanting to know what they’ve gotten out of him so far. They needed this kid. He was the only thing they had to crack down on the rest of the Butcher’s people.

   Nathaniel aka Neil Josten had just gotten out of the hospital and was now being interrogated by two fbi agents. The boy was completely covered in bandages covering up burn marks from god knows what and deep cuts all over.

   One of the agents left the room. "He's refusing to talk.”

   “That man almost killed him but he’s protecting his people now?” Zane asked.

   “No. He wants to talk to his team first.”

   "Team?" Zane asked

   "Neil Josten is the star striker for the Palmetto State Foxes exy team," Ty answered.

   "You've got to be kidding me. He's been on TV?"

   The other agent spoke. "They've been looking for him. We already called his coach. They're on their way in a discreet van. They'll be here soon."

****

His teammates were insane. Every single one of them. The Palmetto State Foxes were famous for being a team filled with problem children that the rest of society gave up on as well as being insanely talented. Every. Single. One of them refused to talk. The only thing they'd say is "Let me see Neil" and nothing else. Ty didn't think they knew anything anyway. It wasn't until a five foot gremlin pulled a knife on one of the agents that they decided to let them all get their way. But not without the knife kid getting handcuffed to his coach.

They put them all in a hotel room and gave them 20 minutes.

Neil agreed to tell them everything as long as Andrew, the knife gremlin, came with and that he not be put in witness protection. Instead, he'll be allowed to live his life as Neil Josten of the Palmetto State Foxes.

  "Wait. He doesn't want witness protection?" Zane asked, confused.

  "The coach is just as insane as the rest of them. Yeah. Nathaniel would rather play exy." said agent Brown, his hands in the air, angry that Neil had threatened him and gotten what he wanted.

For some reason, it didn't sit right with Ty that Brown was still calling him Nathaniel. Everyone that cared about the kid considered him Neil. Anyway, referring to the kid as Nathaniel Wesninski when his father's name was Nathan Wesninski was confusing as fuck and such a headache for Ty. Neil Josten was easier.

  "It's sort of smart. He's a public figure. We can't take him away without everyone knowing what happened. And someone's bound to recognize him from tv. Being so visible makes him easy to find but it's also it's own form of protection. No one can kill him without risking cameras or everyone on the news talking about it."

  As if to prove Ty's point, the station they were currently on started talking about Neil Josten, the sports anchors all taking a guess at what happened based only on rumors. Some of them were right, that he was kidnapped, while others were outlandish and, unfortunately for Neil Josten, not nearly as outlandish as the reality. Can't kidnap a public figure without everyone talking about it.

  They all took shifts to take notes on Neil's story. It started when he was just 10 years old and it was long and impressive. Even agent Brown stopped giving Neil shit after learning about their choice to keep running rather than staying with another crime family for protection. Andrew sat next to him the whole time, clearly a calming presence for Neil, giving him strength.

  Ty and Zane both came into the interrogation room after 3 hours. Zane handed Neil and Andrew some food.

  "Looks like we're in the 7th inning stretch" Ty said, hoping to lighten the mood.

  "I don't speak baseball," Neil said.

  Ty gave Zane a pained look. Zane just smiled.

  "Half time, then. Are those in exy?" Ty asked, not able to remove his rude tone.

  That resulted in Neil giving a 10 minute long speech about the rules of exy. Zane was probably imagining it but for a second he thought he saw a pained look in Andrew's eyes before he went back to his usual bland expression.

  Ty put his hand up. "I'm going to have to stop you there. Breaks over. We should get your story over with. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can all go home."

  That shut him up. He sighed, looked at Andrew for support, then continued where he left off. His father had caught up to him and his mother and his mother had stopped to fight back. She was hurt. Bad. But she kept driving until they got to a beach and then died. Neil didn't specify which beach but he told them that he burned the car and then buried her, got rid of all their belongings and evidence and set up his current and final identity. Neil Josten. How he gave up running and just let his father capture him when he threatened his teammates.

  Ty felt like he was leaving some things out but it didn't matter. They were getting names, they were going to bring Nathan Wesninski's people down. The kid was a pathological liar forced to spill his whole unfortunate life story. Let him keep a few secrets.

  When he got to his father's "birthday present" Ty couldn't stop himself from gagging. Zane grimaced, also grossed out. Especially because Neil said it so casually.

  "Don't worry. It was animal blood," he said as if it made everything better. Ty was reminded of Neil's look of delight when he said his father was dead. That kid was going to need some major therapy.

  Ty and Zane went home late that night, not even caring if people saw them leaving together. Ty drove one handed, the other hand clasped in Zane's, resting on Zane's thigh. Neither of them spoke, knowing that both of them were thinking about Neil Josten aka Alex Rodriguez aka Johnathan Collins aka Henry West and so on and so forth. A kid that grew up with a serial killer and mobster for a father and the scars to prove it. A kid kept hidden and then forced on the run until he couldn't run anymore.

   Ty knew Neil was lying about not knowing where the rest of the money his mother stole from his father was but Ty didn't give a shit. Not like the other agents like Brown would. Let the kid have it.

  Finally, Zane spoke up. "So what the fuck is exy?"

  Ty chuckled. "Didn't you hear the kid's 10 minute long rant?"

  "Those rules don't even make any sense. How is it even physically possible to stop a goal. And what do you mean mouth guards are optional?"

  "I'll put a game on when we get home and you'll see. I hear the knife gremlin's insanely talented. Like Olympian level."

  Zane lay on the couch while Ty put on a rerun of a Palmetto Foxes exy game, the one right before Neil got kidnapped. Ty plopped down on the top of Zane, making Zane grunt, and got comfortable.

  Zane read more about the players on his phone. Seeing that 2 of the foxes, including Andrew Minyard's twin brother, were recovering drug addicts made him a lot more invested in the game.

THE END.

[kewltie]

Hi! I just wanted to say I love your works so much!!!! You’re the writer that really got me into bakudeku and all of your fics are so beautifully written and mean so much to me!!!! I can’t wait to see what you write next, and I know it’ll be amazing!!! I love the way you right bakudeku best and I always find myself comparing other works to yours and I’ve found your version of them is one of the very few that I genuinely enjoy and I just want to thank you for that. I love how you have them have a messy, complex relationship where neither know how to let the other go and it’s perfect, I adore it so much!!!!!! The step-bro au is my favorite (mainly because I’m obsessed with shoujo manga, I’m currently rereading it again for the thousandth time) but all your bakudeku works and not fics are incredible and I absolutely adore the few little things of Tododeku you’ve sprinkled in so much as well!!!!!!!!!! I love your Izuku, someone who is kind and loving but also incredibly stubborn and absolutely refuses to give up or back down!!!! I’ll be honest you’ve definitely inspired me and your passion is part of the reason I’m now pursuing Creative Writing in college and helped me on the path I am now. I hope you’re doing well and that everything works out for you!!!!! I love and believe you and just want to thank you for everything!!!!!

hihihihi!!!

omfg sorry this took me so long to reply. i had an exam this afternoon so that was distracting and i wanted to have a proper sit down and give you all my attention. anyway, i remember when this heartfelt and amazing msg landed in my inbox and how it literally made my whole day yesterday even though i was stressed out with my upcoming exam LOL. i wanted to reply right away but i wanted to get a clear headspace for it.

though im out of the bkdk fic circles for a while now, i know it's pretty damn huge and there are so many talented writers so to know i have a huge impact on you is legit gonna make me cry ahhhhhhh. i grew up in fandom circles admiring other writers before me so to know that i would one day be able to inspired others is such a humbling thing, thank you QQ!!

over the years i've become stricter with my bkdk preferences and their characterization and dynamic and that clearly show in my own fics and writing. i like it a certain ways: my bakugou is ornery and a bastard but he cares deeply for the things and ppl who matters to him in his clumsy and fiercely persistent ways and my izuku bleeds love and for others all over the place that it becomes detrimental to him but it's that selfless and kindness that can attract all sort of ppl and trouble, giving katsuki's constant headache and grievances LOL. and i dont expect everyone to ya know share my preferences but im glad it works out for you!!!! writing become a lot more enjoyable when you write what you like bc you end up loving it in the end and that's something i taken forward with every new projects i have :P lol.

in my youngers day, i used to think about pursuing creative writing as a major but now i do it as a hobby and it's not ny bestsellers career lol but i enjoy it nonetheless bc i can do whatever i want in my own time and at my own pace so if i want to write that 100th version of omega!izuku getting married off to foreign land who to say i cant do it??? LOL but that's my own self actualization journey with writing. it's something i want to do to pass my time and for fun. but i truly admired the fact that you're pursuing a career out of it. it's something you know it's important to you and you love and value so much that you want it to make it your life work and that's really cool :D. i wish you all the best luck and wherever you're going to go with it, it'll be great and you'll do amazing! thank you again, this msg been such an wonderful thing to opened my day to and i think about it all day. i truly appreciate you taking your time out and dropping by!!!! <33

[innocent-dumpling]

I’m Not Done

Some of you have probably read this story I created for @shikatemaweek already due to my first post. I just wanted to try and get into the habit of also uploading my one-shot stories here too in order to be more Tumblr Friendly so I’m sharing it again. Rating: K+ / General Audiences Fandom: Naruto Relationship: ShikaTema If you enjoy this story please consider leaving a comment on this post or on AO3 or even reblogging. I appreciate feedback so much!

CLICK BELOW TO READ THE STORY ON AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992056

READ THE STORY ON TUMBLR BELOW.

She knew going into the relationship that nothing would be easy. Distance, work and family expectations all weighed down on the pair of them. But what Temari had not anticipated was the pressure that would befall her once they got married. To put it simply, children. The topic came up countless times over the course of their courtship by the meddling exterior forces, always seeking to gain control of their very existence. But until recently the topic has not been touched by herself or Shikamaru, for which she had been thankful. The concept of giving the man she loves a child was not a horrifying one. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Merely thinking about carrying their child filled her with so much warmth and happiness that she felt as if her heart might burst. Bringing a pure little soul into the world would be perhaps the highlight of her life to date. But it was the things that followed that caused her insurmountable levels of distress; giving birth and motherhood. Both fears stemming from deep-rooted trauma from her upbringing, or lack thereof.

Shikamaru raised the topic for the first time the day prior and Temari skilfully evaded it; but today he was intent on procuring an answer to his seemingly harmless question. “So how many kids should we have?” His question was kind, full of love and very smooth as he always was when tackling topics of a romantic nature. It hurt to answer him knowing what it was she had to say. Every fibre of her being screamed out in the hope that she would reconsider before shattering his dream. “I don’t want to be a mother,” Temari responds at last, causing her husband’s mischievous smile to disappear from his lips as the last syllable trailed from her own. For the hours that followed they bickered back and forth, never getting to the root of the issue, just going around and around in circles. He simply couldn’t understand, and she stubbornly refused to elaborate further. Their emotions were almost as high as the impenetrable wall she had built around her the instant his smile vanished. It was difficult to recall the last time she felt so distraught. It was clear what he needed in order to process her answer. The full truth. But it was the one thing she wanted to avoid discussing at all costs. Not due to any suspicious reason, although she assumed that he might be exploring that hideous avenue of thought. No, it was simply out of self-preservation from an emotional standpoint. The wounds of her childhood ran deep, as did the associated anxiety. Her parents were a topic she avoided with the greatest precision over the years they had been together. It was almost second nature at this point. That chapter of her life was over, and if she could keep that rattling door sealed shut, she would do so at all costs. It was not a path she sought to gain a deeper understanding of like Gaara. It hurt far too much and reaped far too little of a reward. Fists clench at Temari’s sides as she takes a deep breath. Her heart once filled with love was bursting with nothing but anxiety as she gazes up at her husband. As always, his annoyingly handsome face stared down at her from above, frustration marking his features as his brows pinched together. “For fuck’s sake, what aren’t you telling me?” Shikamaru whispers hoarsely, hands gripping her arms as he peered down at her. His dark eyes quivering as he stared down at his wife, her gaze averting. It hurt. What should’ve been such a simple conversation between them was now the source of what was without a doubt, the most painful argument that their relationship had endured thus far. Swallowing hard, Shikamaru loosens his grip on her arms, a sigh slipping from his lips as his brain goes into overdrive. Nothing about it made sense. “I don’t get it, why are you only telling me that you don’t want children now? You didn’t think this was worth telling me before we got married months ago?” he asks bluntly, voice straining as the words rolled off the tip of his tongue. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. She never mentioned this before. Not once! His mind cries out in frustration, heart palpitating so hard he could feel the pulse dance up in his throat as he looked upon Temari’s downcast visage. Her lips tremble and part for a moment, silence befalling the pair as she presses her cushioned tiers together once more. She didn’t owe him an explanation. Her decision was final. Why couldn’t he respect that and leave well enough alone? She exhales, eyes drifting up to his face once more, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she took in his heartbroken expression. Only a few years back she’d made a silent vow to never cause him to make such an expression. In hindsight perhaps it was foolish to believe such a feat was possible given the turbulent nature of life. I’m sorry. I thought that maybe I could do this, she muses silently as she shook free from his touch; slowly walking away. “I’m done,” Temari whispers, her voice breaking as she stood silently a few steps from him. I don’t want this to end, her mind screams out, a hot sensation tugging at her heart as her eyes fluttered closed. He deserves better. He deserves everything. I can’t offer him that. That was it. He was pissed. “I’m not done! You don’t get to decide this on your own, Princess Temari!” He calls out in a patronising manner, pain dripping from his voice as dark eyes narrowed. His dominant hand reaches forward instinctively, only to pull back as he witnessed her flinch at the sound of his voice. What happened? Did something change? Did I do something? The thoughts rang through his mind chaotically as he stared longingly at the back of the woman he loved with all his heart. He was confident it was through no fault of his own, their current discourse aside. So why was the love of his life peeling open his chest and ripping out his heart? I want answers! Fuck it, I deserve answers! He’d gone there. Using the title that she loathed with everything she was; Princess. She was royalty in name alone, her upbringing was anything but reflective of the privilege it implied. Was he trying to lure her into an argument of a different nature through one of his well-thought-out countermeasures? A trap if you will, to coerce the deeper reason out of her? On any other day, her answer would be yes, without a doubt. But given his current tone, it seemed more likely that it was simply said with little to no thought on the matter. It simply came from a place of suffering and confusion. She couldn’t blame him. “I can though,” Temari replies simply, swallowing hard as she fought to keep her emotions in check; “If you keep wanting to discuss children like the elders of both our families, then it’s over. You can’t pressure me into anything let alone this. I won’t stand for it.” It hurt to even state such a thing, to cast her dreams aside out of fear of the final result of such an endeavour. Who am I to raise a child? I was raised with not an ounce of love for a majority of my life, her mind cries out, a hand reaching up to her head, rubbing her right temple gently as she attempted to subside her throbbing headache. Everything about the conversation was heart-wrenching, from the topic through to the ease of which she had said she was willing to leave him. “Calm down,” Shikamaru whispers as approaches her, arms wrapping around her torso from behind as his forehead presses up against the nape of her neck. It was plain as day that there was more to this, and the fact that she was unwilling to disclose it but would rather state such harsh things in its place was alarming. This isn’t you, he notes silently, gaze drifting to the floor as his shoulders relaxed; If you meant it, you would be trying to break away from me right now. Exhaling heavily, the strategist’s arms tighten under her bosom as he contemplated how to best proceed. He needed to reach her. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I don’t care if you want to have ten kids or no kids,” he explains, voice firm and unwavering despite the ache in his chest; “I just want you, and all the witty insults that come with loving you.” At this point, his love and heartfelt thoughts were all he could offer. This is playing dirty. Hearing that makes me want to break down, Temari’s mind cries out, cheeks flushing as she gazed down at his arms encircling her chest; I don’t deserve you. You are too understanding. Taking a deep breath, she slides her hands up and over his arms, heart-throbbing as she smiled tearfully. “No one in their right mind would have ten children,” she retorts as she attempts to calm the ache in her chest, relief washing over her. He was wearing down her defences slowly but surely; his weapon of choice, his love. “But tell me. Why don’t you want kids?” Shikamaru asks once more, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. Her playful counter to his statement, although unrelated to the comment he made overall, served to put him at ease when her gentle actions were also factored into the equation. While he knew that she loved him and had no intention of ending their relationship, it was a comfort for which he was grateful. “Because I don’t,” she fights back stubbornly, her teeth gritting as she fought to carefully select her words as she turned to face him. Determination printed across her tearstained cheeks like invisible warpaint. She could not let him crack her. Her pride was everything. His hands recoil as his lover turns to face him, her stormy eyes locking with his own fearlessly. “That’s not an explanation,” he states with a sigh as a hand brushes behind his neck, rubbing it absentmindedly. She was frustrating by default. “I don’t owe you one,” she replies stubbornly, lifting her chin a fraction as her chest tightened. He was determined to get an answer from her. She couldn’t blame him despite how irritating she found his persistence, after all, if the situation was reversed, she would likely do the same. Shikamaru frowns, his forehead creasing as he gazed back at her unsurely; “You know that you do. Don’t lie,” he retorts boldly, “I know you better than that.” Did he need to spell it out to her? It seemed so obvious where he was coming from, but perhaps that was all a matter of perspective. “I always pictured us having a family. Not because of those decrepit elders in Suna who nag us. Not because of the elders in my family who do the same. Just because I love you,” he explains, voice filled with exasperation. “I deserve to know the reason, because I’m prepared to forgo that future without hesitation,” he clarifies as he reaches forward, cupping both her face in the palms of both his hands. His words hit hard. The love he held for her was something she had always hoped she would receive. It was unlikely that anything she said would truly phase how he felt. It was that once in a lifetime love; pure and beyond all logic. “I know. I love you too. You know I do,” she responds gently, her wall crumbling down around her as she stood there silently; “I know I’m being selfish.” “Tem, I can tell you’re scared. Just talk to me,” he presses, hands slipping down the sides of her neck and across her shoulders, massaging them gently. How can I help you if you don’t let me in? Taking a deep breath, she relaxes her shoulders, I can’t refute anything he’s said. I owe it to him. Her tongue traces across her dry lips as her gaze softens. “I always wanted a family with you,” she admits, arms plaiting under her bosom as she swallowed hard; anxiety coursing through her every movement. “I’m just terrified, okay? I’m not as strong as you make me out to be,” she half yells out, her defensive nature taking the reins, her beautiful face quivering with pent up emotions that ached to be unleashed. “The idea of not surviving birth like my mother is crippling. That combined with my fear of being a traumatising parent like my father is just too much!” Temari admits at long last, heart pounding as she desperately tried to repress the wave of emotions that hit her all at once. Painful memories of a not so distant past that she would’ve preferred to not relive and anger, so much unresolved anger. “I’d never wish it on anyone let alone my own baby. They should only know what a home filled with love and safety feels like. Not what I experienced, that breaks you,” she cries out, her voice cracking as she spoke; I doubt he will understand. I’ll just come across as weak and idiotic. The handle had been turned, and the one part of her that she vowed to always keep out of his reach had been released. He had flung that door wide open, there was no going back. Shikamaru knew her well enough to know his wife didn’t want his sympathy; she wanted his honesty. That blunt honesty she had come to expect from him as her partner in life. “Look I get it, but you’re not your mother or your father,” he explains, hands rolling down to the sides of her arms and rubbing them thoughtfully in an attempt to calm her a little. A soft sympathetic smile slips across his lips as he tilts his head, “If you want my opinion, the fact that you worry so much about all these things for a baby that doesn’t even exist proves that you have the heart of an amazing mother.” “That’s the other thing. Our baby does exist,” she croaks, eyes welling with tears once more as calloused fingertips trace across her lower abdomen. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t remember how it feels like to even have a mother let alone know how to be one,” she whispers, lips trembling as warmth trickles down the curves of her cheeks; her free hand stubbornly wiping away the tears as she tried to hold herself together. Would he regret knowing how she felt? Would he love her less? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. After all, who would want a woman with no sense of what it is to be a mother? I didn’t want to open that door, damn it! Her mind cries out as she falls to her knees, hands pressing down on the cold floorboards as she squeezes her eyes shut; I didn’t want you to ever see this side of me. This weak, pathetic shell of a woman who longs for her mother. I don’t want you to know me as a victim. Strong arms wrap around her shoulders, tugging her up to his chest. His body heat hits her like a tidal wave, engulfing her instantly as his head burrows into the nook of her neck. “Don’t say you’re done ever again. Not unless you mean it and even then, I refuse to accept it you troublesome woman,” he mutters, lips brushing against her skin as he struggles to calm his frazzled heart; I don’t think I could handle losing you, my painfully domineering wife. Cold hands trace across her hand hovering over her lower abdomen as he presses his forehead up against his wife’s; simply grateful. “We will work it out together, I promise,” Shikamaru mutters softly, lashes fluttering upwards as he drew his face back from Temari’s, her flushed and emotionally distressed expression softening as he smiled at her. A hand slips up to her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb tracing across the apple of her cheek, drifting through damp tear trails as he leant forward, pressing his lips up against hers tenderly. Shoulders relaxing, Temari sinks into his kiss. The depth of his love was endless. She instantly couldn’t help but feel like a complete and utter fool for even questioning his ability to handle that one part of her she ached to keep from him. But perhaps it was best for the events to unfold as they had. If not for any other reason, than to have experienced this moment of complete and utter bliss alone. “I love you, crybaby,” she teases as his lips draw back from her own, a single finger poking into his cheek playfully as she smiled earnestly for the first time that day. Neither of them were perfect. But one thing was for certain, the tiny baby growing within her was going to be as close to perfect as people come.

[queenangst]

(1) Tell me about your week: Mostly I've been suffering with fatigue and headaches, but I have been working on editing/making my second draft of my original novel (first instalment of a series) when I am able and I went into the city to buy essentials for (2).

(2) Something exciting: Something exciting this is happening is that I am getting a puppy! She's coming home this Thursday and I am so excited! Her name is going to be Isabelle (first name, God's Oath and Beauty) Ai (middle name, Love) and she's a Shih Tzu and Chihuahua cross!

(3) Fandom thoughts: Since it's coming up to Hallowe'en, I have been imagining a ShinKami (because they are my muses right now) fanstory where many of the students and teachers at UA are monsters - vampires, werewolves, dragon-shifters, witches, illusionists, nymphs, etc. In the story, Shinsou is a vampire (Aizawa too) and has received discrimination because of that and his quirk, but, since what monster you are or are not is not mentioned unless good friends, him and Kaminari become friends. (Shinsou became better at blending in so people don't immediately guess he's a vampire anymore.) Then the Bakusquad tell each other what monsters they all are and Kaminari is conflicted - because he's not just human but also from a family of monster hunters (who, to get straight to angst here, have been pretty abusive towards him - like rubbing garlic all over his clothes when he was little to keep vampires away from him, even though he's deathly allergic). The story varies from that point, but that's where it starts!

I don't have the energy to write that story idea myself, as I am already spread thin between my original novel and Risks Worth Taking (which I will update when I am able to, but I am focusing on my original novel for now). But I do enjoy imagining it!

(4) Headcanons: Hmmm. So, I get a lot of headcanons for Kaminari because he reminds me a lot of myself from when I was a teenager (cheerful, outgoing, friendly and lacking a filter). I headcanon him to have ADD (and I *should* headcanon him to be autistic like me, as it would explain the lack of a filter, but I don't). I like the headcanon that he might be gender neutral or a trans guy - but at the same time I also like the headcanon that he's a cis guy that is super comfortable with feminine stuff like make up and nail varnish. All of them work for me! I definitely think he has a sister of some kind, probably older, and he knows how to do domestic chores (if not as well as Bakugo). I also headcanon Kaminari as being from a rich family! It would be a fun twist that someone who blends in so well with the others is actually rich like Iida, Yaoyorozu and Todoroki (just nothing to do with heroes). My favourite headcanons are that (a) he's not seriously flirting with people, he's breaking the ice to befriend them and is just naturally flirtatious beyond that and (b) he gets really flustered and can't flirt back when someone flirts with him!

(5) Stories: I don't know what fandoms, outside of BnHA, you are in. But! I recently read, and am reading the sequels which are even better, of this excellent Draco Malfoy (it is Drarry but not yet) time travel story!

Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid

All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter.

Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872387

As for a BnHA story, since I've spoken of ShinKami in (3), I will recommend a ShinKami story which is a Romeo and Juliet situation - and very funny!

Thus With a Kiss, I die by DomineeringScarves

Kaminari finds himself head over heels for the newest addition to their class, Shinsou Hitoshi. Normally the flirty blonde would just present himself with open arms but there's a major problem with his infatuation. There's unspoken rules in 1-A and Kaminari is part of the Bakusquad...whereas Shinsou is a part of the Dekusquad. The two can't be together. It's just not possible. There's no way Bakugou would ever allow one of his extras to date Deku's friend.

There's only one thing left to do, give up and move on. Too bad Kaminari can't seem to escape Shinsou.

Aka the fic where Kaminari is Romeo and Shinsou is Juliet and they have to secretly date so their squads don't fall into an all out war.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993539/chapters/37314002

(6) Yelling: I love you and your stories! Thank you so much!!!

I hope you are doing well! And that this brightens your day!

Sen. x

whooo, long ask! I hope you feel better, but that sounds great otherwise. Congratulations on the puppy & I hope she brings you much joy.

that sounds like a fun AU, it’s certainly the season. sometimes ideas are just as good when they remain in the head - like nice daydream material.

nice headcanons!! I don’t have many for Kaminari myself, I like following other people’s interpretations, but you should headcanon how you want. I’ve never heard someone headcanon about rich!Kaminari much but it could definitely add something interesting to his character/upbringing/interactions. I totally flirt platonically with friends, though only if they’re comfortable with it; that’s very sweet. 

maybe some followers will appreciate the fic recs. I’m happy to share them on the blog of course. 

thanks for stopping by!!!

sleepover weekend

[samgwrites]

Locked Doors

Fandom: The Magnus Archives 

Chapter 1 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what.  Written for the TMA Season 5 Countdown day 3: Spiral, @pilesofnonsense

Read on AO3

“It’s locked,” The archivist said, sounding uncertain and scared. 

“It’s not,” It laughed, softly and terribly. It enjoyed the archivist’s confusion, even if it was slightly annoyed at the fledgling avatar for wasting time. Even if such a concept did not apply to it. 

“Why is it locked?” The archivist spat, and the lie could tell that he was not lying. 

“It can’t be!” It said, tension seeping into its voice. 

“Well you try it!” The archivist stepped away from the door, motioning for the entity to try for itself. 

“That- that’s not-” Something clicked. After years of spirals and distortion and broken minds, something clicked inside of Michael. “Oh. Oh no.” 

And then he was screaming. He hadn’t felt this sort of pain in so long, or perhaps he had never stopped feeling it and the twisting in his mind had simply caused him to forget. He was unwinding, separating. Was he still holding on to the door knob? He couldn't turn the handle, but that couldn’t be right. The handle was part of him, as was the door, and his ending twisting corridors. But were they? 

When did he become himself again? 

With that thought, he let go of the handle, tears streaming down from eyes that no longer saw impossible colors, and he was gone. 

Michael Shelley woke up on a sidewalk in the middle of London with a splitting headache and a broken hand. The sky was overcast as he looked up from where he was lying, the gray clouds twisting and rolling above him like the sea. Laughter bubbled up inside him, but fizzled and died as a strange choking sound. A few passers by seemed to notice the sound and went from simply avoiding or ignoring him to glancing down worriedly and hurrying quickly along. 

Michael sat up, groaning slightly as he did so, clutching his hand that could no longer pierce through flesh and bone. He stood slowly, before quickly making his way over to the steady brick wall on the other side of the path and leaning against it, taking deep breaths. The world had stopped spinning. The world was still and hard and constant, and all the people around looked like people, and for a single moment Michael could almost convince himself that his memories had simply come from a drunken nightmare. But he had spent so long lying to himself and to deny himself the reality that he hadn’t experienced in so long felt like a betrayal. 

He needed to figure out where he was. Yes, yes, that was it. He could figure out where he was, and then try to find his way home.

He realized, however, as he had this thought, that it would be impossible. He had been gone for so long. He had certainly been declared dead, his flat sold, his dog adopted. Gertrude was never one to forget to tie up loose ends. And even if he hadn’t been confirmed dead, he had at least been missing for nearly a decade! Nothing would be the same. Hell, everything would’ve been gone if he’d been missing one month, much less seven years. No one was there to look for him; no partner, an estranged family. It’s not like Elias would call Gertrude out on what she’d done. Even if he hated her too, he’d become such a bastard after becoming head of the Magnus Institute. 

When he realized he would need to go back to the institute, he almost started crying. He didn’t want to go back to the institute. He loathed the place. In fact, he’d hated it so much that the hatred had stayed with him while he’d been an unfeeling eldritch horror. 

He supposed it was why the spiral had finally seen fit to spit him out.To many feelings unrelated to its own goals. To much clear hatred burning through the haze of being a living distortion, it almost made sense that he was evicted by someone better. Like being sacrificed to for being an annoying employee. 

He had seen Gertrude again while he was Michael. She hadn’t been alive, but it had seen her corpse in that dark room in the tunnels. And it had laughed and laughed and laughed, unendingly pleased that the woman that made it had finally gotten her due.

Now he just felt sick. And confused. And so restless and irritated that he didn’t even realize that he had been walking until he looked up and saw that bloody owl looking down on him. 

Oh how he hated the eye. 

He introduced himself as Michael to the woman at the front desk. She hadn’t worked here when he had, and it was a common enough name that he doubted it would automatically be related back to a mysterious figure that occasionally terrorized archive employees.

“I’m here to see Jon,” He said with a nervous smile, one that he’d worn thousands of times in the past but felt foreign in this context. She returned the expression, but it looked odd. Like she couldn’t quite believe him. That, or she assumed it was a prank.

“Jon?” She asked. “Really?” 

“Yes?” He replied, cocking his head to the side, “I’m sorry, is there an issue? I- I haven’t heard from him in awhile, he said I was free to come visit his work. He’s not too busy, is he?” The lie slid easily off his tongue, but not as easily as it once would have. 

“No, no, of course,” She said, waving her hands in the air gently, as if trying to placate him. “Jon doesn’t get a ton of people coming to visit him at work is all. And he has been gone for awhile, some bad sickness or other. You can head down now no problem, I’ll just have to give you a visitor’s pass. What did you say your name was?”

“Michael.”

“Last name?” He almost hesitated.

“Shelley. Michael Shelley.” She just nodded and typed it in, before smiling and handing him a name tag. 

“Have a nice visit,” She said cheerily, and Michael headed down.

It was amazing what he remembered, both from being a monster and working here. Michael the distortion never really had a need for directions or a good memory of proper turns. Michael Shelley on the other hand, was great when it came to navigating the twisting halls of the institute. Perhaps that’s why the spiral had become him instead of digesting him. 

But he clearly remembered how to find the stairwell leading down to the archives, and from there the way to the head archivist’s office. He didn’t pass many people in the halls, which wasn’t too surprising. By the time Gertrude had seen fit to be rid of him he’d really been the only one to make any noise down here. Even if Jon had more assistants, he doubted they would want to be wandering the halls. Not alone anyway. 

He came upon the door leading to Jon’s office. Boring some unknown piece of him laughed. He reached for the handle. 

“Hey!” He flinched, his hand falling to his side. He took a deep breath, before turning to meet whoever had discovered him and smiling his nervous crooked smile. 

“Hello, um I’m sorry I’m just here to talk to your archi- Jon. I’m here to talk to…” Michael could hear his own voice fading into nothing as the man who had been locked in the distortion’s corridors for a few hours (or weeks, depending who you asked) stormed toward him.

He really should have seen the punch coming, but damn did it hurt. 

Tim was shouting something at him, but it just sounded like noise. Michael waved a hand at him, the other being used to hold his now bloody nose. 

“I just need to talk to Jon,” Michael bit out, interrupting the other man in the middle of his tirade. 

“Yeah? And why are you going this way, huh? Don’t you have your own fucked up methods of travel?” Michael shook his head almost sheepishly.

“I don’t anymore, and I really need to talk to your archivist so if you’ll just let me-“ it was Tim’s turn to cut him off.

“Oh what so you just decided to stop being a monster, that it?” In the past Michael had rarely been one to get annoyed, but the longer he stood, bloody in the hall of the Magnus Institute, the closer he felt to snapping.

“Not exactly, though honestly I wouldn’t say that’s exactly a negative development, and if you want to punch me again or yell at me for the things that it- I- we did to you feel free but can you please wait just ten minutes?” 

Tim looked pissed. Michael realized that, and he let out a deep say, fully accepting that after surviving becoming the muscle of an otherworldly being of fear he was now going to die at the hands of a ticked off library science major. 

And then the door opened.

“Tim I thought I heard…” Michael stared at the archivist. He looked different then he did the last time he’d seen him. Less beat to hell, obviously, though his skin still looked relatively great. He had different clothes on, ones that weren’t torn and bloody from a month in a demented wax museum. 

But more than that he just looked… normal. When the spiral had looked at Jon, it had seen twisting thoughts, confusion and doubt. Fear wrapped in a tight package of green jumpers and too many eyes. But to Michael the man just looked human. Tired sure, with his eyes still a bit too bright to be normal but not really enough to be noticeable. 

For a second he almost felt jealous that the man’s beholding characteristics were so concealed, but he tamped that feeling down and locked it away. Jon spoke first.

“Michael?” He asked softly, as if talking to a scared child or a rabid dog, “Michael Shelley?” Michael didn’t know how else to respond to the question other than to nod. He noticed Tim looking rapidly between them, so he decided to speak.

“Can I come in? Is that alright?” There was a moment when no one said anything, but soon Jon was opening the door to the office wide, ushering him inside. 

“Ah Tim, I’m not sure you should…” Michael heard Jon say once he was in the room and out of harm's way, so to speak.

“You can’t keep doing this, Jon, you need to tell me what is happening. It doesn’t matter to me what happens to you, but I’m not going to be blamed for you getting snatched by another monster!” Michael couldn’t make out Jon’s response, but he couldn’t find him to involve himself in the conversation. He glanced around the office. 

It had been here recently, a few months ago at the most, pestering the archivist about something or other. He couldn’t remember what it looked like. Surely it hadn’t changed much, it’s not like Jon was suddenly inclined to change the decorations, but it seemed so much less… colorful. Like a strobe light had been turned off. The last time he had been in this office with it looking anything close to how it did now had been when he had excitedly come to inform Gertrude that the cab was here to take them to the airport. How thrilled he had been to be of assistance, how excited to have been going on his first ever international trip, and with a woman who he respected so much no less. What an honor, what an opportunity, what a… mistake. 

He’d been so focused staring holes in the desk chair that he hadn’t noticed Jon saying something. When the other man gently laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder, he spun around, causing Jon to jerk back as a look of panic overtook his features before being schooled into academic normalcy once again. 

Michael supposed some fear was to be expected. After all, something with his mind and body had threatened to kill Jon not too far in the past. 

“Would you like to sit down?” Jon asked, gesturing to one of the chairs. Michael suddenly remembered how tired and sore he felt, nodding and collapsing into the chair, careful not to hurt his injured hand. Michael smiled at the archivist, even if it felt a bit forced.

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m afraid that would just add to the current confusion.” Jon went over to sit in his own chair, watching Michael, but not exactly meeting his eyes. Tim was inside the now closed door, with his arms crossed. A poor imitation of a security guard. 

“How are you… here? The distortion said you were gone.”

“The distortion isn’t exactly the most truthful of beings, don’t you think?” Jon made a noise of affirmation. Michael watched as the archivist glanced quickly over to Tim, the door, and then back to Michael. 

“Michael, I… I want to help you, but I need to ask you first… do you still want to kill me?” Michael shifted in his chair. No was the obvious answer, and it was the truth, he didn’t want to kill Jon. But he would be lying if he said he could no longer feel the writhing thing in his stomach urging him to leave the archives, lock the doors, and burn it down with everyone still inside. 

“No. When I was… merged with the distortion, the only thing I could recall was the betrayal I felt from Gertrude. The Michael you knew was aware that she was dead, but saw you as only The Archivist. Her replacement. The small piece of me in control could only see you as connected to the person who didn’t care about me. I was angry. I am… really sorry.” Michael let out a nervous laugh, but stopped when he saw both Jon and Tim freeze at the sound. He felt cold.

“And are you still connected with the distortion? Can you still feel it?” There came a slight buzz with the archivist’s word and Michael’s nervous expression quickly transformed into a frown. 

“I do not know, archivist,” He said the word with some contempt, “and while I respect you and your assistance, I do not appreciate being Beheld, Jon.” In response to this, Jon jerked slightly, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to shake off a headache. Tim was now staring at him with something akin to disgust.

“I apologize, it’s hard to tell when I’m doing it or when it’s… nevermind, this is not about me. Is there anything that you think is important regarding your recently regained humanity?” 

Michael thought for a moment.

What an odd question. What he thought was important, what a subjective thing. What he thought. He was just getting used to thinking linearly again. 

“It’s hard to say… I feel... fuzzy. You know when you’ve just woken from being sick? You’re warm and confused and there's a jittery feeling in your fingertips. I feel like I am fully here for the first time in years, but I’m afraid that in a moment I will fall back into that… twisting. Isn’t that terrible?” He giggled on the last word again and choked on the sound. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying not to laugh. It’s not funny and I’m not that thing, I promise I…” Tears had sprung from his eyes, and through his cloudy vision he could see the discomfort clearly on the two men’s faces, and he looked down, and suddenly he stopped, “Oh right,” Jon straightened in concern.

“What?” He asked seriously. Michael glanced up sheepishly. 

“I think my hand is broken.”

[neeterloveschenford]

Why I’m Not Worried About Malex

I think I’ve made my feelings on “the scene” well known, so I don’t want to go off on another rant about that. This time I want to talk about why I am not worried about Malex. Most people that show up on my dash fall into one of three categories right now. 1) Worried about Malex, 2) Not worried about Malex and 3) Screw this show I am so done and I give up on Malex. While, admittedly, the day that episode aired I fell into the last category. That lasted for a day or two, but I eventually decided I would not give up on something that has gotten me through the last year. Even with no Malex in the last episode and the headache inducing comments from certain people involved in the show, I have decided to look on the brighter side and prepare myself for the epic, cosmic reunion I know we will get. 

I’ve said this before, but at the end of the day, Carina may be the showrunner, but she does not have final say about how things go down. The CW knows what's what and they’re primary goal is to make money. Yes, they are different from the other networks. They aren’t so much about ratings as they are about selling their shows into syndication and to streaming platforms like netflix. But they know that they will get more views for years to come if they make the majority of viewers happy. I talked in another post about Arrow and how they changed course in the love story of the title character. They not only didn’t go with the original plan, they went against comic book canon because the original plan was not engaging viewers. The show ran for 8 seasons and spawned the arrowverse that includes 4 other shows. Malex has a huge presence on social media. And from what I’ve seen, Malex has a much bigger presence than Miluca. Even if Carina wanted Miluca to be endgame, I don’t think the CW would let her. At the end of the day, it’s all about the $$. I must have watched season 1 on netflix over a dozen times during hiatus. I think I legit watched episodes with major Malex moments 50 times a piece. I have been that obsessed. I will keep watching the show no matter what because I love and am invested in other characters like Isobel, Kyle, Rosa and Liz. But I would probably never re-watch the show if Malex never got back together. Most people would feel the same and it is all about the re-watch with the CW.

Another thing that keeps me hopeful, is Vlamburn. Since that episode aired, Tyler has repeatedly said that he wanted and expected Malex to be endgame. While Vlamis isn’t that blunt, he has also made comments about how he hopes our boys end up together. They are both captains of our ship and I don’t think they would be saying these things if they actually thought there was a chance of Miluca lasting. It’s just not going to happen. Do all the actors have to promote what they are told to promote? Absolutely. But I think they know that there is so much panic over the current state of affairs, that they are doing everything they can to reassure the fandom. And it’s not just them. I mean how much did Jeanine gush about Malex and compare them to Echo in the instagram takeover last Monday? I don’t pay attention to every cast member all the time, but honestly, the only one that I have heard talk about Miluca as a legit couple is Heather. Whenever Vlamis talks about them, it is always tied to Michael’s trauma. I know I have heard at least Jeanine, Lily and Amber talk about how much they love Malex. Why would they talk about how much they love a particular storyline, if it wasn’t going to continue?

The last thing that makes me hopeful, is that no tv show puts that much effort into a tragic star-crossed love story and not follow through with it. The only thing that changes a storyline like that is if an actor leaves the show. I don’t see that happening. Tyler and Vlamis both seem very dedicated to the show and very protective of their characters. I can’t see either one of them leaving anytime in the near future. Carina has spent a lot of time crafting a tragic, heart-breaking origin story for Malex. They are the closest thing this show has to Romeo and Juliet. You don’t put that much into their backstory, if you’re not going to do something with it. I have a friend who only recently finished season 1. She actually finished the night that 2x06 aired. She’s never gotten into any of the ships. The thing she enjoyed most was the mystery of the fourth alien. But she will tell you straight up that she thinks Malex is endgame. My 65 year old mother can’t watch the show live and is waiting for season 2 to be on netflix. She will tell you straight up that Malex is endgame and Miluca won’t last. She even told me that the other day when I warned her about the threesome. Will we have to go through some stuff to get there? Yes. (hopefully nothing this bad ever again.) And will it be poorly written at times? Probably. Even I’m not that optimistic. But I choose to keep the faith. Despite the fact that he’s not drinking the way he was in 2x01, Michael is still spiraling. His entire relationship with Maria is based on hiding his feelings. He’s going to wake up one day and realize that Maria isn’t his cosmic connection and that nothing she does will ever compare to the way Alex makes him feel. And despite the fact that I think Forrest will be good for Alex, I think he will realize that no one compares to Michael. To quote The Notebook, “It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over!”

[ao3bronte]

Unseen Scars by @ao3bronte Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

This is my fifth prompt for @badthingshappenbingo ! Please reblog and enjoy!

Doesn’t Realise They’ve Been Injured (5/8)

That night, Marinette rolls over in her bed for the umpteenth time and tries to force herself to sleep by sheer willpower alone, which is hardly doing her any good. How could she sleep? Adrien was Chat Noir, her partner! Her very injured and possibly very sick partner, mind you, and all she can do is replay last week’s akuma attack over and over again in her mind’s eye like a stitching pattern stuck on repeat.

It’s pouring rain outside and Marinette thankfully had enough foresight to pack her superhero raincoat. She ducks into an alleyway, transforms, and zips the black and red coat up to her chin before she can get too wet; after the last akuma attack in a rainstorm and the resulting adventure with Tikki and Master Fu, she hadn’t hesitated in splurging three months worth of her allowance on the best red and black polka-dot waterproof fabric her money could buy.

She admires her own creation in the reflection of a nearby storefront before unlatching her yoyo from her waistband and tossing the magical weapon at the nearest streetlamp. The familiar motion easily launches her into the air and she takes to the sprawling boulevards of Paris like the storm above to track down the trail of black smoke floating up into the clouds.

It doesn’t take long to find the damage; Le Moulin Rouge is completely up in flames and Chat already has most of the tourists and performers out of the building by the time she gets there. Pursing her lips, she lands alongside of him and surveys the scene.

“Who’s our target this time?”

“A firefighter,” Chat replies, extending his baton, “Calls himself Pyromane.”

“Creative,” Ladybug rolls her eyes, “Too bad he can’t hold a candle to us.”

“M’Lady,” Chat whispers, clutching his chest in adoration and Ladybug runs forward with a grin, launching herself into the fray.

Unfortunately, the fight is long and hampered constantly by the slickness of the rain on the concrete, leaving them both grappling for balance after every punch and parry. The supernatural flames don’t seem to be affected by the endless deluge pouring down from the skies either and once the inferno starts spreading to the surrounding buildings, Ladybug and Chat have no choice but to abandon their fight with Pyromane and try and save the people trapped within.

“Chat!” Ladybug heaves for breath, bracing her weight on her knees as she runs from a burning building, “Was that the last person?”

Running just behind her, Chat wipes his brow and smears a layer of soot against his skin, “I think so. I’ll take another look inside just to be sure.”

“Hurry! I don’t know how long I can hold Pyromane off on my own!”

“As M’Lady commands!”

Ladybug turns back towards the akumatised fire chief and doesn’t think twice as she goes in for the attack, dodging the spray of his water cannons and fireballs. He sets a row of trees alight and, in between the writhing hoses and the weakening buildings falling all around her, Ladybug barely makes it out of Pyromane’s reach unscathed.

Relentless, Pyromane aims his cannons and shoots at one of the neighbouring buildings already gutted by fire, laughing maniacally as it crumbles to the ground in a plume of flames. He blasts a volley of fireballs into the sky and Ladybug can’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, praying that Chat had made it out before being trapped beneath the walls of the collapsed structure. Swallowing thickly, she rushes over beneath the cover of smoke just to make sure.

The hoses hinder her progress as they slither towards her, their open mouths spewing pressured water strong enough to rip the roots of the burning trees from the ground around her. She dodges them as best she can and clambers over top of their spray, hoping to damage their spouts if she aims them at each other. Kinking the hoses with the string of her yoyo, Ladybug follows them to the possessed firetruck they’re attached to and rips the hoses from their connectors, freeing the ground long enough to finally make it back to the building.

“Chat!” Ladybug hollers, narrowly sidestepping Pyromane as he throws a volley of fireballs in her wake, “Chat, where are you?!”

“I will raze Paris to the ground!” Pyromane cackles, “No one will be able to stop me!”

Ladybug smells burning rubber and hopes the akuma hasn’t singed the antennae on the hood of her coat, “Yeah? Well, I have a burning question for you!”

Curious, Pyromane pauses his assault and Ladybug takes advantage of his momentary confusion to analyse him carefully. There’s nothing particularly exceptional about his outfit besides the shiny oversized helmet on his head and Ladybug quickly decides that the helmet must be where the akuma is hiding, “How many firemen does it take to change a light bulb?”

Pyromane roars and Ladybug quickly launches her yoyo in the air for a lucky charm, pausing to catch a tin of petrol from the sky.

“Really?” Ladybug shakes the jug and frowns, “This will only make it worse!”

“Ladybug!”

Spinning around at the sound of his voice, Ladybug gasps out loud as Chat limps up beside her. He’s covered in soot and debris and—, “Oh my god Chat, is that blood?!”

Chat waves her off, “I’m fine. What did I miss?”

“Chat!” Ladybug waves her hands hysterically, “You’re bleeding!”

“I said I’m fine,” he winces, “Ugh, what is that sound?”

“I don’t hear anything besides the fire,” Ladybug responds, glancing between him and the can of petrol in her hands, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep,” Chat massages his temples, “You know, I lava a good fight, but this one is really burning me up.”

Shaking her head at his pun, Ladybug scans the area around her and doesn’t spot anything particularly helpful besides Chat’s cataclysm. He follows her gaze and nods once the solution to their akuma dawns on them both.

“I’ll distract him for you,” she says, handing him the can and running towards the other side of the boulevard, “Hey Pyromane! Want my Miraculous? Come and get me!”

She doesn’t see so much as hear Chat throw the cataclysmed tin of petrol at the firefighter and braces herself, ducking into a storm drain to shield her body from the shockwaves. The blast explodes like fireworks above her head and she waits until the insanity finally dies down, clambering back to her feet and sprinting towards the stunned firefighter now splayed face first on the cobbles. She snatches the helmet from his head and forcefully slams her heel through the plastic, relieved beyond belief as a purple butterfly emerges from the shell, and capturing it with a flick of her wrist, the heroine of Paris releases a flood of ladybugs to patch up the city.

When she turns to give her partner a fist bump, her lips already poised to shout bien joué, Chat is already gone.

~

No one is surprised when Adrien doesn’t show up to school the next morning and Marinette tries not to panic, her mind still racing with worst case scenarios. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he really needs to go to the hospital but his father won’t take him? She spends the majority of her study period looking up concussion symptoms on the internet and fearing for his life when each and every sign of illness falls into place like a red flag:

Dizziness? ✓

Loss of consciousness? ✓

Nausea? ✓

Headache? ✓

Ringing in the ears? ✓

The list keeps going on and on and the longer she reads it, the more sick she begins to feel. How could this have happened? Why didn’t she do something to help before he got this bad?

“Hey Marinette,” Nino raises his hand in greeting and slides into the seat on her right, “Have you seen Alya?”

Marinette quickly minimizes the browser on her screen, “Alya? I think she went to the dark room to work on her photography project with Rose and Kim.”

“Got it,” he gives her a thumbs up, hesitating ever so slightly before getting up, “You heard from Adrien?”

Marinette squashes the urge to screech and shakes her head.

“Hm,” Nino unconsciously rubs the mobile in his pocket, “I’ve been texting him all morning and he hasn’t answered.”

“He’s uh…he’s probably sleeping!”

Nino considers her words and smiles sheepishly, “You’re right. Dude was pretty sick yesterday, he probably just needs his beauty sleep or something.”

Marinette agrees, closing the screen of her laptop and gathering her charging cord, “Probably. Hey, I’m heading home for lunch. Can you tell Alya I’ll see her later when you find her?”

“Will do!” Nino offers a little wave and heads towards the exit, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She’s got to do something to help Adrien right now or she’ll never forgive herself and she gathers her belongings without further ado, slipping them into her locker and escaping out of the front doors of her collège as the noon bell rings.

“Are we going to see Adrien now?” Tikki asks, peeking out from underneath the collar of her raincoat. Marinette simply nods and skids around the corner, skipping over puddles and leaping over curbs.

“Bonjour Maman!” Marinette greets as she barrels through the door of the bakery and flicks off her hood, quickly sprinting up the stairs, “I forgot my lunch!”

She doesn’t wait for her mom’s response as she pushes her apartment door open and darts into the kitchen, opening the fridge door with urgency. She snatches a long-forgotten slice of cheese from the back and a container of leftover soupe au potiron from the night before and shoves them into her backpack, backpedalling as quickly as she came. Determined, she leaps down the stairs and shoves her way out the door into the nearest alleyway. 

“Tikki, transforme moi!”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Beatrice and Merula for the character asks

Two of my favorites! This is going to be fun! 

(Merula)

Luca:

I’ve never met another human being who has given me quite as many headaches as Merula Snyde, and somehow I wouldn’t give up a single one of them. In the early days, she insisted on competing with me and even trying to hurt me and my friends. Her insecurity was pretty transparent, so it wasn’t like I didn’t understand...still, I kept finding myself asking the question of why, if she refused to be my friend, did she still insist on talking to me all the time? It was a bit more complicated than that, of course. Her feelings for me are...complex, and the same is true on my end. It doesn’t help that she’s weirdly good-looking, in a way that takes a while to notice...my journey with Merula probably says a lot about who I am, because I went from ignoring her, to caring pretty strongly about her....to tackling Rakepick for what she did in the Underground Vault. I haven’t told anyone this but Merula’s suffering has changed my boggart ever since that night. I know she’s aggressive and self-centered, I know her problems...but I don’t care. She’s not the first person I’ve met who show-boats and lashes out to hide that they’re hurting...and I never gave up on Jacob either. My friends don’t understand why I spend so much time with her, or else they think it has to do with the Vaults. But lately I tend to see Merula as part of my group of friends. It’s a slow thing but I think she’s starting to become a true member of the gang ,and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Weasley-Adoptee: 

Merula is an interesting character but I don’t really have much to say about her, like she’s okay I guess? But still, I-(cue my bag falling and all my old posts spilling out) Oh geez, that’s nothing, I-(trips over all the “bae!” posts I’ve made) Um look I can explain-(my MC/Merula, enemies to lovers posts start falling from the sky.) UGH OKAY I ADMIT IT. I’m total trash for this character. Yes, I am in that part of the fandom. So if you’re a Merula-Anti you are entirely welcome on my blog but be forewarned, my posts might frustrate you. But Merula is easily one of my favorite characters. She’s complex and interesting and I cannot help but feel for her. She has an adorable design and her integration into the story and side-quests is always fun to watch. And hey, you don’t have to be an MC/Merula shipper, but their dynamic is just too precious for words. Like Luca, I’m a total rescuer at heart, so how could I not want to rescue this lonely cat? In the beginning, the only thing I really had to say about Merula was “No, she’s clearly not a discount Draco, why does everyone keep saying that?” Cause like...it may have taken a while for her to be developed beyond just being a rival, but right from the start we knew her parents were in Azkaban. Basically the polar opposite of Draco’s privileged upbringing. Draco genuinely thought he was hot shit, Merula simply tried very hard to pretend that was true, but it was clear that she didn’t really believe it. By the time we got the first Christmas TLSQ and that incredible song-book scene (Be still my heart) I was a major fan. Then we had lines like Merula saying that she enjoys sparring with MC during the Celestial Ball and I just can’t even. I will never stop stanning the best witch at hogwarts.

(Beatrice) 

Luca: 

“You know how sometimes you’re aware that a person exists well before you know them, and you get this idea in your head of what they’re like? But then you meet them and they’re entirely different? Well, Beatrice is kind of like that but on a delay. I was expecting Tiny-Penny, and I was not wrong. But that’s kind of on me as well, and knowing how much people expect me to be just like Jacob...I can understand why that perception might be frustrating for her now. Look, I don’t care if she’s doing a whole goth style now. I don’t care if she wants to hang out with Ismelda...I mean, she’s basically harmless anyway. But Beatrice can’t start neglecting her makeup exams or putting herself in dangerous situations...I realize what a hypocrite I am for saying that, but I don’t especially care. Penny is family to me, and that means Beatrice is family to. And while I’m not planning to let the Vaults claim my life...I would die before I let something happen to her. Not that I don’t get where she’s coming from because I do, but she can work through her pain without putting herself in a position to deal with more. I don’t think either Beatrice or her sister realize what the other went through and I don’t know how to help both of them see it.”

Weasley-Adoptee:

Considering that there’s a very common tag on my blog that goes “Beatrice Haywood Defense Squad” I think you can safely guess where I fall on this character. I have a number of strong feelings about Bea’s struggle and how it reflects her character, other characters, and the Potterverse as a whole. I’ve already rambled quite a lot but you’ve got to understand - I will never find her annoying or blame her for the way she treats Penny and anyone else. She lost a year of her life to that Portrait World and we still don’t know what it was like for her because no one fucking asks. Sorry, that’s just....that still drives me crazy. But I honestly do like the deconstruction of not only how trauma can work, complete with loved ones who don’t get it and think the problem is just over after you’re physically safe...to the deconstruction of what people have been saying for years - the Potterverse adults are horridly incompetent. Sure, obviously we all love McGonagall and Flitwick but....D u m b l e d o r e ....sorry, this isn’t about him. I genuinely like how Beatrice reacts to all this and she absolutely does have a point. After losing a year of her life to the Vaults, why shouldn’t she be allowed to investigate? It’s not like children don’t do all the work in these stories anyway. She’s older than MC was when they started poking around. I totally understand why Penny is worried about her and she has every right to be...but she just doesn’t know how to get through to Beatrice right now. Otherwise, a lot of little things make me adore her - from her friendship with Ismelda which makes perfect sense, to her adorable crush on Jae, to her freaking awesome re-design (Seriously Jam City, we better get a second chance to get that outfit) to the fact that she’s apparently just as tall as MC.

Send a HPHM character to my ask box and get both my and my muse’s feelings on that character!

[koholinthibiscus]

My Tumblr Journey and mental health

What the hell is this?  Where am I? What do I do and how do I do it?

You often hear of people getting to their 30′s and feeling more comfortable in their skin and just owning, accepting and loving themselves.  Well, maybe it’s because I need psychotherapy, and maybe it’s because I’ve come into adulthood in a period with huge economic and political upheaval as well as a pandemic; but I don’t feel that way.  I feel simultaneously old and young.  clueless about young things (like tmblr) and clueless about old things (like mortgages... even though I have one) 

I’ve deleted Facebook and use twitter sparingly these days so the reason joined this site is to purely vent.  To write my thoughts out and send them into the internet ether to languish, probably ignored.  But just getting it out might make all the difference to my physical and mental well being so I’m just going to give it a shot and see where things go. 

I feel terribly alone and isolated.  I have a type of social anxiety that you probably wouldn't notice.  You might just think I’m an idiot or a bitch.  You might barely acknowledge my existence.  I’m pretty average so I may not register.  But when I’m done talking I will think and think and think about it.  How did I come across?  why the fuck did I say that?  You think I’m a fucking idiot don’t you?  I will simply torture myself forever and ever.  And I avoid social interaction, especially with new people, as much as I can.  I can just about manage in a workplace setting but all my energy for this is taken up with that. 

I feel unheard, unseen and unsatisfied.  I feel a lump in my throat and a weight in my chest.  I feel exhausted and headachey most of the time.  I can’t bear this current situation.  I have a visceral hate for my country.  I can’t bear sad news.  I can’t cope with news that implicates humans as ignorant, unsympathetic, inhumane creatures.  I feel deep sadness at the existential threat our planet faces and confusion and sadness when I realise that barely anyone in my real life feels the same urgency and guilt.  I have changed my lifestyle (probably not enough) to try and alleviate the guilt but it hasn’t worked.  

So I get into things to try and distract myself; fandoms, stories, subjects, video games, novels and I feel sad about it because I feel useless “not good at it” or that they’re a waste of time.  I hate myself so much that my hobbies make me sad. How stupid is that?  I’ve recently been getting into DnD during lock down and watching critical role.  I enjoy it but it makes me sooooo sad and jealous that I don’t have a strong friend group like that who can enjoy playing DnD with the same level of fun, ease and camaraderie.  It literally hurts my heart and I’ve been feeling weird for days.  So I’ve tried to make myself better by consuming things.  I’ve bought a new set of dice and bought some unrelated books.  

I skip from one subject or thing to the next feeling unsatisfied and discontent.  I don’t practice things, I don’t finish things.  I give up. And I feel like I’m giving up at life. I am lazy and stupid.  My hobbies, likes and interests feel like a plaster over a gaping wound and was working but it’s not any more. Getting lost in a fantasy world just makes me feel sad I can’t create my own or be with a group of friends, either on line or on person where I can create together. 

I am petrified of parent hood.  I have an amazing 3 year old.  She is a marvel. But I have a constant dread of failing her. Doing too much, doing too little.  I want her to strive for happiness.  Take on hard things, work at things till she’s good at them, whatever it may be.  I honestly don’t care what as long as she enjoys it, has a passion for it and is ultimately happy.  I want to push her, but I don’t want to push her too much.  I worry about sending wrong messages.  I worry about not doing enough with her.  I do not want to bring her up the way that my mother brought me up. I am terrified of repeating the same mistakes. 

I’m ultimately a kind person who is trying their best but can’t unleash my true potential due to depression, anxiety and self-confidence issues.  I get so angry and sad at people who don’t follow the same ideals as me.  which.... isn’t ideal.  I can’t stand TERFs, racists, ableists, misogynists, right wing people, climate change deniers, ignorant people.  I can’t stand it when people think that poor people only have themselves to blame.  I hate capitalism and colonialism.  I want to change the way the world operates even if it is to my detriment as a white CIS English women living in comfort.  I feel trapped in suburbia where nothing changes and no one looks or is different.  

I don’t mean to fetishize certain communities with that statement and I reliaze that it’s probably ignorant of me to suggest that everyone is the same too, given that I struggle to interact with people.  And I’m not suggesting that I’m some sort of special flower  or that ‘I’m not like other women’ (eeww) either, I know there are people out there I would probably get on with but like I say, I struggle.

It frustrates me when people don’t feel the same way politically.  I think that people’s politics are based on their morals so I struggle with conservatives for example.  I don’t understand them or where they come from.  I want things that people need to be owned by the public and free at the point of access, healthcare being the main one and I fear for the future of the NHS.  Yes, even if it means higher taxes (but I obviously want the super rich taxed more) I don’t believe billionaires should exist.  I want universal basic income.  If the human race keeps breeding, if we keep suffering from pandemics, if we progress technologically to the point where mechanization is even more prevalent, we will not need people to have jobs.  We need UBI to level the playing field.  And I want a vegan world.  All of the above makes my head swim with anger and despair.  What type of world will my child have to endure when she gets to my age?  I fucking hope it’s better than this.  I can honestly say that I believe I am on the right side of history with my politics.  It is ultimately about being kind and humane.  But no... I’m probably seen as a soft SJW snowflake keyboard warrior twat by my family (which is why I went off facebook).  Even though I have a masters in Gender studies and a career in social justice work, but sure, I’m just after the ‘internet points’ or want to look ‘woke’.  I feel like not many people truly know me and if they do know all of the above and don’t like what  they see,  I don’t know man, that kills me.  I want people to think well of me. I want people to think I am a good person. 

I could yap on for ages about this honestly but it would make little sense.

I think I wanted to start this as a place to get my feelings down because I am starting a journey of therapy soon.  My sessions should begin in September but I feel the need to get stuff out now.  I’m having a bit of a shit time in my head right now and I felt like I would burst. 

I’m already worried that I will appear stupid and self centered.  There is nothing particularly wrong with my life.  I have a good job that I love but am also petrified of it and of getting it wrong so I self sabotage, worry and don’t believe in my abilities and I’ve been doing that since college.  (I need to un pack how I feel about work and my actions around it, I have a lot of thoughts, maybe for another time) 

I pick the spots on my face till they become angry red welts, I pick the skin around my nails till they get infected and then I hate myself for how I look, even though it was my fault in the first place.  I don’t shower, don’t wash my face, don’t get enough sleep then look in the mirror and see my greasy lank hair, baggy grey eyes and bad skin and I just hate myself.  Is this an analogy for the entirety of my personality? I am my own worst enemy and I need to give myself a fucking break.  Easier said than done. 

Things to unpack in therapy: 

My work 

My politics and how I interact, deal with people who don’t feel the same way as me

My child hood and family dynamics - It’s fucked up y’all. 

My Child

My husband 

My past relationship

The sick thing I do at night when i think about horrible things, like the death of my child for no god damn reason. (Is it punishment?) 

It’s frustrating being so aware of my issues and not feeling able to do anything about it. 

It’s probably an effect of lock down but I have been feeling really bad consistently for a very long period of time now and it’s exhausting.  I always have peaks and troughs, feel great to OK for sometimes a good few months then it just comes down on me like a bag of hammers and I feel like death for 2-4 weeks.  

I’ve been having those hiccups more often and for longer.  I’m so fucking tired man.  A couple of months ago a I had a terrible headache for 4 days, could barely move and felt tearful all the time.  I just thought it was a migraine attack at the time (which I very very rarely have) but I coincided with a particular event that I’m not ready to talk about (It’s really not that juicy it’s quite fucking pathetic actually) and I think it was a major depressive episode. 

I think I’m done now, I’m emotionally exhausted after reading this through and my throat hurts from trying not to cry.  Maybe this is the start of my tumblr journey maybe I’ll delete it all in a few days I don’t know.  I had to try something. 

[lockedwithloki]

The Aftermath - Part 1

MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS!

DON’T TELL ME THAT I DIDN’T WARN YOU!

Author’s note: I fucking need a whole pack of tissues. I hope you don’t hate me too much, it is based on Endgame after all. There’s going to be a second part, I felt so heartbroken that I had to stop writing.

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Requested: no

summary: the one in which peter is the bad news messenger.

ONE LAST WARNING

THIS FANFIC INCLUDES SOME HUGE SPOILERS

THANK YOU

Now enjoy <3 

“I’m sorry my love, but Peter is gone”

Those words kept replaying in my mind. The words my father, Tony Stark, delivered to me after he managed to return from space. It had been five years and from all the bad things I had experienced in my life this one I could not get over. I couldn’t get over the fact that my friends and family were gone. That someone decided that half of humanity had to be vanished. Turn into dust and be one with the atmosphere. I couldn’t get over Peter’s death. He had been my best friend for as long as I could remember, I was the one who told my father that he was Spider-man.

Just few days before he turned into dust we had shared our very first kiss, finally understanding what we meant to each other. We had decided to give it a shot, even if it ruined our friendship. When you find something so strong in such a young age it’s not easy to ignore it. But the chance to figure out where those feelings would lead us was taken away from us.

After five years all I could think about was that kiss. It was like a little ritual of mine every sunset I was sitting by the lake near the house we had moved in and daydream about those happy moments.

I was happy with my father and Pepper, and Morgan, my new little sister. I am not going to pretend that we were miserable, Morgan could always find a way to make it interesting. But I couldn’t shake the little void inside of me that something is missing.

I had lost all hope that they would find a way to bring them back, I knew my father wouldn’t risk it especially after Morgan and I didn’t really know what the other Avengers were up too. Until one time, we had some visitors and my mind went wild.

I was sitting at my usual spot by the lake when I heard a car parking next to our house. We didn’t get that much of those these days so I ran to see who it was. A two very familiar faces smiled when they saw me and I hugged them tightly. “Steve, Natasha, what are you doing here?” my eyes fell on the third person that was with them, I recognised him “you’re Ant-man, right?”

“That’s me” he waved happily.

“We were hoping to speak with your father” Natasha said after they finished asking me how I’ve been doing.

“Is something wrong?” I asked worried.

“No kiddo, nothing new at least” Steve replied and then I noticed how tired he looked. I wondered how he could manage all the loss and pain he had experienced over so many years.

“So?” I asked and my eyes widen in realisation. “You figured it out, didn’t you? You figured out a way to bring them back?” I could feel the air get stuck in my throat and my heart beating faster than ever before. But before any of them could reply my father called my name.

“(Y/N), get your sister inside” he walked closer, giving his old co-workers a hard look.

“But dad-”

“Now (Y/N)!” he said strictly.

“Come on honey” I said wrapping my arms around her safely.

“Who are those people? Dad looked mad” she said with her soft voice.

“Just dad’s old friends. Come on let’s see what Pepper’s up to”

I stayed with both of them for a while, pretending I was helping with dinner when in fact I was trying to listen to their conversation. “Hey I am going to take my phone, I left it somewhere” I said, knowing very well that Pepper wouldn’t believe me. I stood close to the door and I heard all that I needed to.

“We have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right Scott” my dad interrupted him “I won’t. Leave it. Got two kids.” it was like someone stabbed me in the heart.

I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to my room and cried, cried more than I had in those five years. In that very same state my dad found me a few hours later, with tears in my eyes holding the last photo Peter and I had taken together.

“Hey” he softly knocked the door “can I come inside?” he asked and I nodded in reply, feeling my throat sore after all the crying. “You know how sorry I am, don’t you?”

“Then do something about it” I whispered turning my whole body so I could face him.

He sat next to me and took my hands in his “I can’t, you can understand this, right? I can’t risk losing Morgan, or you”

“All I understand is that you have a chance to bring him back, to bring everyone back and you won’t even try. That’s not the man who raised me. Now please leave me alone” I said feeling new tears forming in my eyes.

I woke up few hours later with a huge headache and my eyes burning. I walked downstairs to get myself a glass of water when I saw my dad sleeping on his tablet. I walked where he was and I gently shook him awake “dad, go to bed”

“(Y/N), hey, what time is it?”

“Late” I said “hey dad, I am sorry about before. I get it, I truly do. I just wish Peter was here, you can understand that, right?”

He got up and hugged me “I love you so much, so you need to know that I will give this a shot, I am going to meet them tomorrow. I truly hope this will work the right way for all of us”

I returned the hug, maybe a little stronger than I was planning to. I felt a heavy lift get off my shoulders and for the first time in a while hope filled me “It’ll work dad, I know it will” I let him go and he whipped the tears I hadn’t realize that had slipped my eyes “I love you 3000″

“So you were the one who taught this to Morgan” he laughed and I smiled at him, taking a good look at his face, feeling proud to call him my father.

I didn’t know how long I was staring at my phone, waiting for a call or a single message from anyone, but the time kept passing by with no news. All possible scenarios passed through my mind. But not the one that actually happened. I had decided to go outside and get some clean air, trying to persuade myself that nothing would go wrong. And I was opening the door I came face to face with the person I lust to see so much "Peter" I exhaled and fell into his arms, completely ignoring the heartbroken look he had on. "I knew that it would work, I knew it, I am so happy you're here Peter. I had missed you so much. My dad's a freaking genius, of course he figured it out. But I am rambling, I am sorry, let me take a good look at you" and only then I realised that something was wrong. He hadn't said a word, of course something was wrong. “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“I am so glad you’re okay” he said and hugged me again, completely ignoring my question. “I don’t want to let you go” I knew him better than this, he was stalling, almost like he needed time to find the right words.

As much as I didn’t want to I pushed him away and looked him dead in the eyes “Peter, tell me what happened” but he refused to reply and his eyes were getting watery. I immediately understood and my whole body was at the edge of a panic attack. “Where is he? Where is my dad?” I said and memories flood at me when I had the same conversation with my father 5 years ago, demanding to see Peter, when I was well aware that l I couldn’t. It seemed like I couldn’t have them both here with me.

Peter just shook his head and I ran outside calling for him “Dad! Dad!” I yelled and tears started falling. “You can’t be gone” I felt a hand touching my shoulder, almost believing that it was my father. I turned to face him and I saw Peter this time fully crying.

“He saved us all (Y/N). We won thanks to him” he said and I fell on my knees, feeling the weight coming back on my shoulders once again. Peter followed my movement hugging me but I couldn’t even lift my arms to hug him back. All I could do was sob catching myself thinking that if I hadn’t persuaded him to go help the Avengers bring everyone back he would have been with us.

Part 2