#i've read so many fics that are better than what he wrote

[arggghhhsstuff]

rip to rick riordan i guess but the pjo obsessed tumblr people do it better

[noxtivagus]

mhmmm starlit waltz.... sometimes i find my mind just wandering back to that. lil thing i wrote years back. from time to time. i really want to rewrite it soon before 2022 ends ><

[cuubism]

I've written something very silly. Dating apps, texting fic, crack, smut. desire messing with dream. onlyfans creator hob. trans dream. Enjoy.

--

U up?

The notification from an unfamiliar app stared up at Dream from his locked phone screen. He frowned, perplexed. Nobody texted him. Certainly not with such vernacular.

Dream opened the notification. It pulled up the messaging page of a dating app, one he himself had certainly not installed—

Desire. He grit his teeth. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearby to receive his ire.

Dream looked again at U up? on the message interface. He clicked on the profile of the man who’d sent it, a “Kyle” who would not have looked out of place shotgunning a beer at a rager. Of course, Desire had not only gone to great lengths to establish him on this insipid app, but had also spent time matching him with the exact opposite of his type, presumably to cause him never-ending grief and annoyance. As usual.

Dream should probably have just deleted the app. Instead he responded, For?

What he received in response, a few minutes later, was a poorly-lit photograph of Kyle’s penis. Dream pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger with a sigh. He should have known.

I have seen better, he replied, and closed out of the app.

He had been back at his writing for ten minutes or so when his phone buzzed again. He checked the notification.

Brad: you could be MY good boy, kitty cat 😽

Dream gagged, but opened the man’s profile out of perilous, morbid curiosity.

Brad, 28, Hedge Fund Manager, “Looking for something casual on the DL”, likes golf and cryptocurrency— oh, dear. Somehow, Dream doubted this Brad truly wanted Dream to become a part of his life. Nor did Dream want to be his ‘kitty cat’.

He was going to have words with Desire.

You strike me as a man who brings choking into the bedroom without knowing what a safe word is, he wrote. Am I accurate?

I can choke you if you want, baby 😜, wrote Brad. Which may as well have been a yes.

Dream did not think that Brad was the person he wanted that from. Not to mention that his utter lack of kink safety knowledge would probably land Dream in hospital, and there were more interesting ways for that to happen than mediocre sex in a finance associate’s penthouse.

I would prefer to keep my brain cells, he wrote, and closed the app.

Over the next few days, Dream fielded many strange, annoying, and obscene messages from people on this app. He certainly had not “swiped right” on anybody himself, so he could only assumed Desire had done so on his behalf and had now left him to suffer the consequences of “matching.” By all rights, he should have just deleted the app off his phone. But Dream rarely communicated with anyone, certainly not strangers, and there was something a little bit entertaining about seeing what kind of drivel was being thrown his way. Was this how people attempted to court over the internet? Or perhaps Desire had merely “matched” him with the dregs of humanity.

By the end of the week, Dream had received seven “dick pics”, four offers to share one or more of his body parts in exchange for cash, and a request to become a seventy-five year-old man’s “sugar baby.” He was uncertain precisely what that entailed, but he was fairly certain he would not like it.

He had also received a text from Desire that read, enjoying yourself? ;) to which he did not respond.

His meager entertainment expended, Dream was on the verge of finally deleting the app when he received a different message:

Hob: Do you think it’s possible to cheat death by force of will, or are you too busy craving its sweet release to consider it?

Dream frowned, perplexed by the specificity of the message. Finally it occurred to him to actually look at the profile Desire had made. He swiped over to said screen, and sighed in aggravation.

Desire had, at least, chosen flattering photos of him. He supposed if the goal was to have Dream sexually harassed over the internet, this would have been a requirement. The photos definitely suggested something other than “serious, committed relationship”, but they weren’t terrible, at least.

As for the text—well, Dream finally understood where some of the more unhinged messages he had received had come from. He read through the given prompts, and Desire’s answers to them:

Dating me is like: You found a stray cat and brought it home and fed it and you were going to take it to the animal shelter but now it won't leave. It’s pretty cute if a bit mangy but it won’t stop biting your hand and mewing pathetically. The sex is pretty good tho.

“Pretty good.” Desire had written all this and couldn’t even manage to make Dream sound like a satisfying hookup. Typical.

He read on:

I’ll fall for you if: You tell me I’m a good boy 😳

Things were falling into place in Dream’s mind now.

Hob’s strange message seemed to arise from the main part of Dream’s profile, where Desire had listed his “religion” as “worshipping l’appel du vide.” An interesting element for this “Hob” to focus on. Dream did not think it was typical for messages on these apps to open with a discussion of death.

He switched back over to the messaging page of the app, and replied: I consider death often. As to your query, it depends: are you thinking of death as an entity one could escape, or a force like gravity? Or perhaps a place one must go?

Hmm, Hob responded, good question. I think it’s like a state. But a state of nothingness. See, if I thought it was a *place*, might be willing to go, see something new and all. But what’s the point of nothingness?

Nothingness is its own satisfaction, wrote Dream. It seemed peaceful, to him. Quiet. The lack of need for satisfaction in the first place.

But you won’t be there, so you won’t get to experience it, said Hob.

Precisely.

Huh. The void really is calling to you. You don’t like experience, then?

Is that innuendo? Dream asked.

Could be. If it is, do I get to be part of the toxic codependent relationship that ends horribly for everyone?

Another reference to Desire’s profile choices. What Dream was apparently “looking for in a relationship.”

That depends on the quality of your experience, he wrote.

I’ve received good reviews, said Hob.

You’ve yet to call me “kitten,” so I suppose I must concur on that front, replied Dream.

You started that one, little stray cat, said Hob.

Technically Desire had started it, but Dream had to grudgingly admit that his profile did invite such comments.

Having a smashing time in your dm’s, then? Hob continued.

I have received several unsolicited pictures of genitalia, wrote Dream.

Oh yeah? said Hob. Anything good?

Random strangers’ genitals did not interest Dream. There was a reason he did not watch porn. Mediocre at best, Dream said.

There was a long pause, and Dream hastily added, Do not send me a picture of your dick as comparison.

My dick is already all over the internet, you don’t need to get it here 😛, said Hob.

Dream blinked several times at his phone screen, as if to clear away a fog before a message that might make more sense.

What, he wrote.

Before Hob could reply, it occurred to Dream that perhaps he should actually look at Hob’s own profile. He had gotten too caught up in the strange conversation to remember to do so.

He opened it and— froze.

Dream had already deduced that Desire had intentionally matched him with whoever they thought Dream would be least interested in. He could see why they had thought the same of Hob, primarily because he was very different from Dream. In the past, Dream had tended to have flings with people who were rather like him, in some respects. “Tortured artists,” Death would say.

This was not Hob. For one, unlike Dream’s pouty and morose profile photo, Hob was actually smiling in the first picture on his page. And what a smile.

He was handsome, too. At least, Dream thought so. Handsome in a homey, comfortable way, the type of handsome that suggested really good hugs, and coffee in the mornings, and someone to come home to. Dream scrolled through more photos, and caught the spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his easy nature. This best matched the way Hob spoke in his messages, he thought.

It was not so much that Hob was his usual type, and more that Desire had unintentionally uncovered a type Dream had not known he had. He swallowed hard. Scrolled back up to read the details of Hob’s bio, in search of answers to the strangeness of Hob’s response.

Ah. His profession was listed as “OnlyFans creator.” That would explain it. He supposed he could track down Hob’s profile on said app. Dream was historically not very interested in porn, however. But he was finding himself interested in Hob.

He moved back to the messaging page, and wrote, before Hob could question why Dream was confused about information that was clearly stated in his profile, Ah. I see. I’m afraid I don’t watch porn.

That a moral stance? Bcuz I get enough of that already, trust me.

Personal taste, said Dream.

Prefer to get it in person, eh? said Hob.

Yes.

You’d do numbers on OnlyFans just fyi, Hob wrote. If u ever wanted more cash. Or does Poetry & Malaise pay better than I thought?

Dream’s “career,” according to Desire.

He supposed Hob's comment was flattering, in a way. Is that your own bias, Hob? Or your considered opinion as a professional?

Both ;), said Hob.

If that is your situation, then why are you on this app, dare I ask? Most people I have encountered seem to just be interested in sex but I doubt you are suffering from a dearth of it.

What, porn stars can’t want to get married? :(

Dream could imagine his pout. It was surprisingly endearing.

THAT is why you are here?

Sure, be judgmental about it, mister “I want to get consumed.” Or was that about vore and I misread it as metaphorical?

Dream spluttered, though Hob was not physically present to see it. Indeed, Desire had written that Dream wanted “someone he could consume and be consumed by in turn,” which was surprisingly accurate considering its intention had been to mess with him.

It is not VORE, he wrote. Then followed it up with, I have frequently been accused of being intense, possessive, and overbearing.

Well then we have that in common, Hob replied. By the way, sex for work is not the same as sex with someone you really care about. Or would you feel emotionally fulfilled after fucking your colleagues?

I don’t have colleagues, said Dream.

Right, right. Poetry and malaise.

And have you achieved much emotionally fulfilling sex from this app?

No :(, said Hob.

You are too handsome for that to be the case, wrote Dream, and realized what he had said a moment after he’d hit send.

He panicked internally until Hob replied, And here I thought I was just annoying you 🥰.

I might be having a crisis over your photos myself, Hob added, but let’s not discuss it or I’ll embarrass myself.

We could discuss it in a different venue, Dream wrote, heart in his throat. I am interested also in hearing your plans to thwart death. Perhaps over drinks?

Thought you’d never ask :)

So they set a time.

--

Drinks turned quickly into tumbling into Hob’s flat turned quickly into Hob pushing Dream up against the door and kissing him senseless turned quickly into falling into Hob’s bed. Dream was feeling quite happy about his decision to go on a date with this weird, death-obsessed OnlyFans creator. He had been right about Hob giving good hugs, he had learned that when Hob had greeted him at the bar. He had also learned that Hob really knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob said, looking up at him, lips wet. He had his hands wrapped around Dream’s thighs and his face between Dream’s legs, and yes, Dream was feeling very satisfied with his decision, indeed. He might even have to send Desire a gift basket. “You taste so good.”

“Your mouth is ungodly,” said Dream, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan as Hob continued teasing him with that mouth, swiping his tongue through Dream’s folds and sucking on his clit.

“Converted you to a new religion? You’re done with the void, then?”

Dream twisted his hands in Hob’s hair, holding on tight, thighs trembling, heartbeat racing in his throat. “Perhaps.”

“Is Dream your real name, by the way?” Hob asked, pushing one finger into Dream, and then quickly two, as Dream moaned and clenched down on him. “I kind of thought it was fake.”

“No,” said Dream, though it came out as another moan. “It is real.”

“Fascinating.” And he went back to torturing Dream with his mouth, fucking him deep on his fingers, until Dream was squirming and writhing under him, trying to get away from Hob’s relentlessness even as he wanted to throw himself into its fire. He felt hot, feverish, taut all over, Hob’s hands were so good, and his mouth—

“Hob,” he whined, “please.”

Hob paused, looked up at him, lips and nose wet with Dream’s fluids. Then grinned cheekily. “Yes, kitten?”

And why did something that had sounded so revolting coming from anonymous strangers only make Dream laugh when Hob said it? He laughed, a horrible, choking laugh, and Hob laughed too, incredulously. Dream could not remember ever laughing during sex, it had always been a torrid and serious affair. But Hob was so charming and handsome and Dream wanted to kiss him.

“Come,” he commanded, drawing Hob up towards him by his hair, and Hob went, and Dream brought their lips together. Hob’s mouth was slick and tasted of Dream. It was heady.

Dream wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Hob ground his cock between Dream’s legs, between his folds and against his clit. He didn’t try to actually fuck Dream, though, which Dream figured was Hob’s professional good sense considering they hadn’t discussed birth control or anything in that vein in their haste. He imagined what might have happened if he had instead gone home with Brad of the un-negotiated choking kink, and laughed despite himself.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Hob, lifting his head to look at him. He really was so appealing, with his dark eyes, hair falling long over his forehead, his voice that was much more honey-warm than Dream could have imagined over text.

“I was thinking of the catastrophe that would have resulted had I slept with one of the questionable individuals I’ve encountered on that app, and my good fortune in finding you instead.”

Hob smiled, and kissed him, a proper first date type kiss, sweet and kind. Then he said, dragging his hand through Dream’s hair, tugging on it, “Don’t think about anyone else.” He kissed Dream’s jaw, then down his neck, nipping at his skin.

Dream dug his nails into Hob’s back, into his strong shoulders as Hob ground against him. He wished Hob was fucking him. His cock felt so good even just moving between Dream’s legs, and the weight of his body over Dream’s was so grounding. Next time, maybe.

He shivered as Hob moved faster over him, claimed his mouth with a hard kiss. “Come on me,” Dream urged, pulling Hob in tighter again with his leg wrapped around his waist. He reached between them and got his hand around Hob, and Hob groaned.

“Dream—”

Dream pulled him off in time with Hob’s own thrusts, and soon felt Hob’s hips stuttering, his grip tightening in Dream’s hair. He came over Dream’s hand and stomach, breathing hard against Dream’s throat. But he didn’t pause very long to recover himself, instead slipping three fingers back into Dream, making Dream arch against him with a shout.

“Hob!”

Hob worked him mercilessly until Dream was clenching around him with a gasp, body shaking as his orgasm ramped back up and hit him, fast and hard. Hob grinned against his throat as Dream panted, then gently pulled his fingers free and raised his head to look Dream in the eye as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean of Dream’s spend. Fucking. Hell. And this man couldn’t find someone to marry him?

Hob kissed him again, and again it was sweet, and firm, like his hugs. Dream kissed him back, petting Hob’s hair. Pleased with the position he’d found himself in. Pleased with Hob.

“Good?” Hob asked, stroking a hand up and down his side.

“Very,” Dream sighed.

“Good,” said Hob. “For me, too.”

He kissed Dream’s cheek, and then went and got a soft wet cloth to clean them both up, and even brought Dream a glass of water. Truly Dream’s good fortune was unparalleled on this day.

Hob slipped back into bed beside him, and Dream laid on his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him. Tucked an errant strand of Hob’s hair behind his ear. Ran his fingers over the stubble on Hob’s cheek. He really was quite handsome, especially mussed from sex, in the low bedroom light. Perhaps Dream was going to have to find his OnlyFans. Just so he could… take this home with him.

“You really are even prettier in person,” Hob murmured, studying him. “Although I don’t think the rest of your profile was really doing you justice.”

“That is because my sibling initially created it to annoy me,” Dream admitted. “However, I think I am the one who’s come out on top in the end.”

“That does explain some things,” Hob said with a chuckle. He took Dream’s hand and kissed his fingertips, met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t break your heart. If you stay.”

My BFF’s take on why you should date me, Desire’s profile fills had read: With luck you can be the next person to break his heart <3

Once again, it had not been entirely inaccurate. But perhaps it would be this time.

“I think I am inclined to,” he said quietly, and Hob smiled, that warm, endearing smile.

So Dream did stay that night, cuddled up in Hob’s arms. Feeling all warm inside, even when Hob had fallen asleep, and Dream was still awake, lying beside him. He often had a hard time sleeping, but he didn’t mind so much, right now. Hob was pleasant to cuddle up to, even if Dream couldn’t sleep. Hob was pleasant all around, in fact. Dream tended to fall fast and hard and he could already feel it hovering over him like a cresting wave. Fortunately, Hob didn’t seem inclined to be any more casual about him than Dream was feeling about him.

Dream thought he could get used to this.

With Hob’s arm still wrapped around his waist, Dream swiped his phone off the nightstand and opened his text thread with Desire, which still had enjoying yourself? ;) as the last message, as yet not responded to.

Having made Desire wait for several days already, Dream wrote, with a little smile, I think I am going to get married, and turned off his phone.

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[starleska]

Hello again!! I'm the anon from before (and I'm glad to hear you had a nice time yesterday!!!), and here's what I wrote.. I've been thinking a lot about the 'Wally eats with his eyes' idea, as many have been !!! I'm not sure how to warn for what this exactly so feel free to tag it with whatever you deem necessary. Wally just. Likes you a lot lol. i guess this is a little silly but i had a good time writing it haha

You are having a staring contest with your friend Wally.

You can't quite remember who started this, or why. Just that Wally had wanted to draw somewhere outside and you tagged along with him, until you were sitting somewhere in a field of flowers around the Neighbourhood.

Wally simply returns your gaze, unblinking, his hands folded over on top of his sketchbook. You think this has lasted long enough. What you want to do is crack a smile or a joke, but you find that your muscles are frozen stiff, and your tongue is so, so heavy.

His pupils expand.

You're supposed to panic about being this frozen up. Moving shouldn't be so difficult. But it's like your body feels like even stressing out about this is too much effort. You feel warm. Your eyelids tremble with the effort to blink. There is no movement, though your eyes don't burn either. You've held them open for so long that the world starts to gray out around you.

His pupils expand.

Wally leans his head to the side, little by little. You mirror his movements without thinking. The tips of your fingers are tingling, your feet feel numb as if fallen asleep. He smiles at you even more than usual. You think that this makes you happy. His lips part slowly, as if to speak, and-

"Hiya, guys!" Eddie calls out from the path to your right.

Your body jolts in surprise, and the spell is broken. By the time you whip your head around to look, Eddie has already continued his delivery route without waiting for a response.

Your returned awareness feels like breaking the surface after almost drowning. A weight disappears from your body, and you practically double over, gasping for air. Your shoulders are shaking, your eyes wide. When you squeeze them shut, it burns. You feel tired like you never have before.

"That was good," Wally says. For a moment, you are hesitant to turn your head back and look at him. You want to hide from his eyes. But you snuff that thought out as soon as it pops up, because that's just silly. You must've eaten something wrong, or have caught a cold. What else could explain this.

You look at Wally. He looks normal, and his eyes upon

"W-what did you say?"

"I asked: Are you feeling good?" Wally speaks even slower than he otherwise would, but his smile is as wide as ever. "You don't look good, friend."

"I don't… I'm a little out of it," you force out a laugh. "I think I'm getting sick."

Wally leans forward.

"You'll be okay," he says, and puts a hand on your knee. "Let's sit here until you feel better."

!!!!!! anon!!!! anon do you know how good this is?!?! oh my gosh!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭 honey, i cannot express how much i adore this fic. it's such a wonderful blend of terror and intimacy, so frightening and claustrophobic yet warm and safe in a way you can't understand...ugh, i'm in love 🥴 your descriptions are so vivid - i could really feel Your panic and nausea. some real Lovecraftian horror stuff going on in here. and oh my God the little detail of him saying, 'That was good' and then switching to 'Are you feeling good?' absolute chills!!! 😱😱 if you feel comfortable enough, you should absolutely post your writing somewhere!! you've got such a talent for writing, Wally in particular, and i'd love to read more of your stuff should you be inclined. i'll definitely be taking some tips from this awesome little fic going forward 😉 thank you so much for sharing 🥰

[mrsbsmooth]

Smut writing 101: What I wish someone had told me when I first started.

So a conversation with @queen-of-boops and @longbobmckenzie sparked this post. Sarah already wrote a list of tips for writing a villa fic which was really helpful and people expanded on it a lot, so we thought it might be helpful to share a few tips for writing smut from some of the writers that do it a lot.

This is a long-ass post, because I've learned a lot over the years. So right at the end, there's a mini how-to guide for how to turn your smut from IKEA instruction manual into an explosion of sexual tension.

In addition, I would love for others to add on to this. This fandom is horrifically talented especially in writing brain-melting smut, and this is just what I could come up with in a few hours. But I'd love to hear from other people and have them add on extra bits!

A few resources before we begin:

The Smut Writer's Dictionary

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic [HIGHLY recommend sections ii (Reaction words), iv (sexy alternatives to 'said'), xii (generally acceptable slang terms) and xvi (Some do's and don'ts of smut writing).]

OneLook Thesaurus is much better than other thesauruses at suggesting words for smut (I've found).

Now, on to the advice!

Tip #1 - It's normal to find it difficult and cringe to write. Own it.

Smut can be intimidating. It can feel really cringe and awkward and you might feel like people are judging you for it, and you know what? Sometimes they are. Smut isn't for everyone, and not everyone wants to read it, and that's why ratings and tags exist on Archive of Our Own. But you shouldn't be ashamed of writing it. Smut is fun and awesome and people who do like reading smut often love reading it, and will absolutely eat up whatever you give them. So go nuts. Write what you want to see, write what you want to read. That's advice for everything, but it's especially relevant for writing smut. Because if you feel awkward, it can sometimes show through. Lean into it. Let it happen. If you make yourself blush, you’re doing a fucking awesome job.

Tip #2 - Writer’s block.

I've written hundreds of thousands of words of pure, unadulterated filth, and I still struggle to push into it sometimes. The leadup comes so naturally, the tension builds, they're kissing, they're starting to touch each other, and then-- writer's block. I stare at the page and tap my fingers and go... huh. Same with writing really effectual kisses, or writing orgasms. There's all this pressure to make it the best written orgasm that's ever existed in the English language and it really doesn't need to be. Just put something down. 

If your doc looks like this:She clawed at the wall, knowing she was coming apart at the seams, the pressure building inside her. He didn’t let up. [orgasm bla bla bla]. She took a deep breath. She drew herself off him. She turned around. And she fell to her knees. [blowjob and he's loving it].

Then your doc looks just like mine.

Tip #3 - Pick the right words for everyone’s bits. 

See the resource above for suggestions! People have very different preferences when it comes to what to call a cock or whether or not to use the word ‘cunt’. Adjectives, adverbs– there are so many different opinions. Like personally, I have to physically restrain myself from throwing a fic across the room if it uses the word hole but that is my personal preference, and I am massively in the minority there. But my advice is threefold:

Read widely to find out what you like,

Write what you like,

Know your characters. 

Language will vary by fandom, by character, and by setting, and it’s an opportunity to really solidify their characterisation by carrying this into smut. An arrogant fuckwit who’s bedding his mortal enemy in a fit of hate-sex might use ‘into her slick cunt’, whereas a sweet, wholesome guy who’s desperately in love might say ‘pushed inside her’. But the more you read, and the more you write, the more you’ll find certain words or phrases you’re more comfortable with. 

The more smut you read, the better understanding you’ll have of what you like. The better understanding you have of what you like, the easier it will be to write. 

Tip #4 - POV can help you

Picking the right POV can make your life easier. For example, I once wrote a M/M/M threesome. That fic ended up being my very first ever 'first person POV' fic. Why? Because it turned one set of ‘his hand’ into ‘my hand’. Made it easier to understand the logistics of ‘his hand on his waist’, etc. Maybe it's lazy, maybe it's genius. I thought it was a bit of both. 

Consider whose POV is going to be the most impactful. If you’re not sure, try writing a paragraph from each. You’ll figure it out quite quickly. 

Tip #5 - Dialogue

You don’t have to include dialogue in your smut, but it can really help with pacing things and showing when the ‘end’ is approaching. Anyone who’s ever read any of my smut ever knows I’m a huge fan of cutting people off mid sentence in smut dialogue. 

They start out with “Oh yeah? You think you can make me X?” And the other person goes “Sweetheart, I’m going to make you X so hard you don’t Y for a Z.” 

But then by the end it’s “You feel–” and everyone’s gasping “Oh, fuck–” and sobbing out “I’m so– I’m gonna–” 

To me, this helps to build pacing and tension and show without telling that the end is approaching. But honestly, that’s just me– I enjoy reading people being very vocal in smut, so that’s how I write them. If that’s not your thing, then don’t do it. Simple as that. 

Tip #6 - Don’t skimp on the finale

Orgasms are hard to write. We all know that. There’s all this pressure to write the best most explosive monumental earth-shattering orgasm that’s ever existed in fiction, and honestly, it probably won’t be. But you still need to give it the time it deserves. 

As an avid consumer of smut, there is nothing more frustrating than five pages of buildup, incredible smut, tension rising, rising, rising– and then the orgasm happens in two lines and they’re immediately having a conversation afterwards. This is, no pun intended, the climax of your scene. Give it a paragraph. Hell, give it two paragraphs. Give it four. The climax is something you can write in excruciating detail and it will almost always be better for it. You can decide whether they come at the same time, or whether one comes immediately after the other (personal fav so we get to read two orgasms. Yay! Two cakes!) You can hyper-focus on every single sense. Here are some examples for writing orgasms:

Feel/Touch

The feeling travelling through the character’s body/ zones: up their spine, through their thighs, ‘deep inside them’

Their partner continuing to thrust/move

Their partner’s grip on their body, or maybe a kiss

Fingernails digging into shoulder or raking down a back

Legs squeezing

Smell

Personally I think this works better for the leadup and afterwards, but if you want this in here you absolutely can. Pheremones, cologne, aftershave, perfume, sweat, hair gel– whatever makes them smell like them. 

Sight

Their partner’s face and get detailed! Lips parting, brow scrunched, eyes closed, face in beautiful agony, wax poetic as fuck about their partner's face! What is hotter than making someone come and watching their face while you do it!??!!?

Darkness (blindfolded 👀)

‘White light behind their eyes’ is a cliche for a reason (fucking love this one)

Seeing stars/heaven see above lol

Taste

Harder to put into an orgasm but salty skin, lipgloss/lipstick? Whatever you want really

Sound

Big one. Their partner’s breath or moan as they watch/feel character’s peak

Their own breath/moans (or lack thereof can be just as effective, a ‘sudden silence’ as their breath catches in their throat can work WONDERS)

Bodies slapping together (doesn’t always work but when it does it does)

External sounds, especially rhythmic ones. A train clacking or a club baseline could simulate a heartbeat/shockwaves that you could lean into.

Pick multiple senses and focus on them. This will fill up a good bit of your climax writing. 

But you should also let them come down from it! DON’T SKIMP AFTERCARE (or after-hate??)

Tip #7 - Aftercare!

I missed this so often when I was new to writing smut and I didn’t realise how effective it could be! I always just faded to black immediately afterwards because I didn’t want to deal with the ‘cleanup’. And you don’t have to go into detail, but at the very least, give them a few minutes– a paragraph or so after the sex. The immediate aftermath of the act itself when you can really focus on the relationship. 

If they’re mortal enemies who’ve just fucked and are now horrified? Have them panting into each others’ skin. Their breaths suddenly become sharper and more reserved. They pull back from each other. Someone glares or someone says something snarky or awful. Someone showing aftercare or affection here (or being particularly cruel) reveals a lot about their character.

If they’re deeply in love and it’s comfortable for them to do so, maybe let them just lay there for a second, enjoying the feeling of each others’ bodies and letting breaths fall warmly and smiles tug at cheeks. Soft kisses, laying in silence, affection, etc. 

If they’re best mates who just fucked by accident, have the silence be awkward and have no one breathe at all. It’s tense and awkward and one has to ask the other to go get a towel or something and the other is like ‘oh, yeah, um, right’. 

Don’t skip this! It can be so impactful!

Overall Tip - Beware the ‘IKEA Instruction manual’!

The #1 most common mistake, in my opinion, in writing smut is ‘Insert Tab A into Slot B’. It’s things like, 

He moved his leg A, she touched B. He lifted her arm to C, holding her D’s, before slipping down to cup E. She ran her hands up F, touching his G, feeling his Hs caressing her I as she lifted her J and draped it over his K.

When I read this, I’m not focusing on the smut. I’m doing mental gymnastics trying to keep track of what position they’re in in my head because I’m assuming that it’s important. If you feel yourself doing this, stop. Refocus. Remember whose POV you’re in. This isn’t to say you should never tell the reader what’s happening. Just make sure to break it up a little!

Balance actions with senses. 

Let’s say you start with a basic action. (The example is buildup to smut, not actual smut, but the idea is the same)

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Instead of writing what they’re doing, write what they can sense.

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh” becomes “She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Now, make the phrase active. Instead of ‘she felt’, make it a description.

‘She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh’ becomes ‘Warmth erupted on her skin as his hand slid from her knee to her thigh’.

-> Give it details, and draw focus to them.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thigh as his hand slipped from her knee and moved higher. The silk of her skirt gave way to the warmth of a coarse, rough palm. Her skin seared beneath it. But every other inch of her shivered with anticipation.

In three steps, you’ve gone from IKEA tab A to slot B to a pretty good section for building tension. 

Examples of writing senses:

What can they feel? - ‘She’d never been so pent up, so wired, so on edge, and every flit of his practiced fingers on her waist had goosebumps shooting up her spine’.

What can they taste? - ‘She could taste the sweat on his skin, the coconut suncream on his shoulders, the salt of the ocean on the hints of stubble at his jawline.’

What can they smell? - ‘Her forehead pressed to his, that smokey, heady cologne engulfing her; curling her closer in time with his arms around her.’

What can they hear? - ‘He watched her every move, breathing quickly, so she looked him directly in the eyes as she undid his belt. Belt. Button. Zip purring as she tugged it down towards her.’

What can they see? - “Then, they opened, and he was treated to the sight of her looking up at him from her knees. Her eyes said fuck me. Her mouth said fuck me. Everything about her. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I hope this was helpful in some way. I really would love to hear any other tips and tricks that writers would like to add to this. Obviously Mo and Sarah are already tagged, but this is a full and open free-for-all.

Add your thoughts! Add what you've learned! Add what you wish you knew!

I'd love to hear it <3

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: when the rain stops, replica / timeskip!hinata shoyou x reader

notes: aquatic accord (top), isparta rose (heart), patchouli (base)

description: the sudden end to a rainy season, a first glimpse of sunlight from the clouds

disclaimer(s): weak sillage, requires frequent reapplication

wc: 1152

warning(s): nothing!! safe!! very safe for all!! gn reader!!

author's note 1: this is actually a continuation/prequel of another fic i read! i've reblogged it on here, so go to the end of this fic to find out who wrote it...;p

"Raining in Japan? Again?" Hinata's voice rings through your earphones, his face pixelated and blurry on the weak connection of your phone as you scrub at dishes and cups. The tap splashes, water sloshing and dripping from your hands as you smile sadly. The house smells of dish soap and traces of wet leaves from the trees outside, pummeled by relentless droplets of rain that pass on from tapping at your windows.

"Yeah, has been like this since you left, Sho." You glance at the phone momentarily, squeezing a wet sponge. For the two years of Hinata's departure, the spring has been weeping in daily showers and drizzles, clouds disintegrating into curtains of rain. The water bills sitting on the dining table behind you have gone down by a landslide since he's been gone, both from the lack of dishes that sit in the sink, waiting to be washed, and the sudden disappearance of an extra shower in the night, one that ends in a mess of wet, orange hair beneath your hands and between your fingers as you run through the strands, a hair dryer in hand. Through the phone, his skin looks tanner, yet the sun that reflects from his skin paints patches of white and gold on his face, a pair of sports sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

"Looks like Brazil has been a good time though, good weather?"

He gleams at the comment, crows feet emerging on the skin of his eyebags, and his smile is brighter than the sun that illuminates him.

"Yeah, good time and good weather. Would be much, much better if you were here though!" He holds the phone up, and his entire beach volleyball team is behind him, tall and towering over his relatively smaller figure who rolls a suitcase as he walks ahead. "Say hi to the teammates!" The men glance up and wave enthusiastically through the blurry videocall. Ah, Brazilians, always so kind. You smile, flicking your hands into the sink, before returning a small peace sign from above your head. From the two years of daily videocalls, snuck into walks from the beach to the dorms, or stolen from dinner parties and gatherings on lonely rooftops, you've come to know the names and faces of each teammate, and your heart takes a hit of guilt knowing they must have enjoyed Hinata's presence for the two years.

"I wish I were there too, Sho, or that you were here."

He smiles, pulling the phone back to himself. He would do anything to have you in Brazil with him, but he won't need to. Not when he's standing in front of Sao Paulo Airport, luggage and bags in hand as his teammates get ready to crowd around him for farewell embraces and manly kisses on the cheek. He'll miss his teammates, sure, but he's missed you much more than he could ever miss anyone else.

"Well, I'll be back in another twenty hours or so, and that's already twenty-something hours too many. Just got to the airport, but God, I just want to be with you, right now. I'll talk to you soon, 'kay? Love you."

"You're on your way, we'll be together soon, Sho. Love you too, I'll see you soon." The call cuts off, and what remain are soap suds in the sink, water bills on the dining table, and the never-ending drumming of rain on your windows. There are no stars in the sky, the moon too tired to crawl through the blue-grey clouds, the ones that let loose the water that makes them up for weeks on end, and years on end. You retreat from the kitchen, and into the bedroom, crawling into the comfort of your down quilt as you lie on your side, and stare at the empty dip of the mattress beside your own. The rain cries out now, bouts of lightning flashing periodically, followed by the booming of thunder, and you wonder if something will happen. What if the flight gets delayed, because of the stupid weather? What about turbulence? Hinata has always hated turbulence, ever since the senior grad trip the Karasuno volleyball team took to Brazil, the trip where he had to cling onto your arm for stability as the aircraft rumbled and bumped, battling with winds from all directions. What if the airplane goes through that again, and he has no one to hold on to this time?

You shake your head, ridding your mind of the endless possibilities, and swap your pillow with his. Your face presses into the fresh pillowcase, taking a sniff. His cologne has worn off, to your disappointment, only the faint traces of patchouli and fresh earth remaining beneath the guise of detergent, and you sigh, reminding yourself that he will be here, just in another day. And as you fall asleep, face half pressed into the pillow, your mind searches for the forgotten fragments of his fading cologne.

The next day rolls by like a script. The rain drizzles and pours again, and your lonely laundry tumbles and turns in the washing machine, dull beeps and clicks interrupting the nervous tapping of your feet at the ground as you wait for the turn of a key. The TV drones on in reports of another rainy day, trailers for shows and movies you've been waiting to watch with Hinata, the occasional time announcement that ticks at your brain like a time bomb, waiting to go off. Dishes from breakfast and lunch pile in the sink, sitting lifelessly as they wait for someone to scrub them beneath water and soap. The washing machine plays its little jingle when the clothes finish, and you drag yourself from the couch, pulling out a laundry basket to shove them into. Pulling open the door to the machine, the lock of the front door turns.

For the two years that Hinata is away from Japan, the springtimes weep in endless drizzling for weeks and weeks on end, and the summers cry out flurries of rain and lightning. The trees on the walks home catch onto stray droplets, sagging beneath the weight of water, rainboots and umbrellas becoming every day essentials for most of the year. Weather forecasters laugh and joke about the lack of sunlight, cue cards in hand in front of a LED screen, but the gloom evidently weighs down their eyes and dims their smiles with each passing week of rain and storm.

Yet the moment Hinata pushes open the front door, his luggage and bags of souvenirs and equipment thrown onto the wet ground carelessly, the drizzling and tapping of water on pavement and glass gradually silences. And when he lunges forward, holding you tight against his chest like a man robbed of his heart and soul, the forgotten notes of rose petals and crisp water flood your nose, and the clouds part for the sun to come home.

author's note 2:

@kuroppiii HEY BBG THANK YOU SM FOR YOUR BRAZIL HINATA FIC BECAUSE IT ACC JUST FILLED ME W SO MUCH INSPO

for anyone who read this please please PLEASE go check out the og one from @kuroppiii!! this is supposed to be a prequel/continuation of what they wrote and might make both reads just thiiiiiiis much more fleshed out!!! please give them love because i sure loved their work smsmsmsmsmmmmm

and also brazil hinata needs to save me ngl i love him..

tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @starlysama @afyrian @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u in the next one bye bye

[roguegambitweek]

Romy Discord FanFic Rec List

In honor of Rogue/Gambit Week, some of the writers from the Romy Discord wanted to share some fics that we’ve written. 

With so much Romy love to share, we hope y’all find a new favorite or rediscover an old one. 

💚💖 Thanks for reading! 💖💚

Takes Two To Tango (or take down a Wild Sentinel) @aldreantreuperi by AldreanTreuPeri [ao3]

Rating: M | Universe: XtAS’97 | Words: 1,521 | Chapters: 1 | Status: Oneshot 

Summary: A battle is as much a dance as anything achieved on a dance floor…and having the proper partner can literally keep you alive… Episode 5 fix-it fic.

But Here We Are by AppleJ @applejacks1552 [ao3] 

Rating: M | Universe: Comics | Words: 32,978 | Chapters: 30 | Status: Complete 

Summary: They never thought this would be possible, but Rogue is uneXpectedly eXpecting. Yet nothing is ever THAT simple in the life of an X-Man. What secret will Gambit discover that complicates their happily-ever-after?

AppleJ says: Hmmmm ... why I wrote that fic in particular: First, because I wanted to make the fan theory that the twins (Maxime & Manon) were Romy kiddos real. Second, because I KNOW it will be a cold day in hell before Marvel ever gives Romy kids in the main 616 (like maybe long after I'm dead & they're out of storylines & they've already split/reunited them 5 times over?), so it seemed like fertile ground (pun intended). And third, because they say to write what you know & I wanted a pregnancy/birth story that reflected the reality that it isn't all sunshine & rainbows & certainty for many of us & that's okay too.

Mighty Thin Ice by Cajun_Hawk @cajunhawk [ao3] [ff.net]

Rating: E | Universe: Comics | Words: 138,942 | Chapters: 11 | Status: WIP 

Summary: Rogue is working hard to get her powers under control while she and Gambit have decided to take their relationship to the next level, in hopes of having something normal very soon. 

The Legacy of Dark Cerebro by Chellerbelle @chellerbelles [ao3] [ff.net]

Rating: T | Universe: Movies | Words: 45,064 | Chapters: 12 | Status: Complete 

Summary: What if X2 had ended differently? What if the X-Men hadn’t gotten to Professor Xavier in time and all the humans had died? Takes place 5 years after this alternate ending (exception of the prologue). 

Chelle says: After much indecision, I decided on The Legacy of Dark Cerebro. The opening scene had a special place in my heart, and New Sun vs Phoenix was on my fanfic bucket list for a long time. 🙂Also, this story seems a bit more “new reader” friendly than some of my other favourites, haha.

Risk and Reward by DayenuRose @dayenurose [ao3] [ff.net]

Rating: T | Universe: Comics | Words: 47,518 | Chapters: 13 | Status: Complete

Summary: There’s an old adage that goes, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. As a thief, Remy LeBeau know full well that oftentimes the greatest risks come with the greatest rewards. When he starts to fall for the enigmatic Rogue, Remy must decide if the risks are worth the possible reward. 

Rose says: This was one of the first Romy fics I’ve written. It was a real entry into Romy fandom for me. Everyone was so welcoming and kind in the comments. And during the process of writing this, it helped me come to a better understand of Gambit, Rogue, and their relationship. 💜

LeBeau’s Eleven by Ilargikat @ilargikat [ao3]

Rating: G | Universe: Comics | Words: 14,182 | Chapters: 6 | Status: WIP

Summary: Planning a heist is not easy, especially when you need special skills to pull it off. The luck of being an X-Men is that the skills are within reach, maybe not people willing to commit a heist.

Once. Now. Before. Always. by lovethelebeaux @lovethelebeaux [ao3]

Rating: M | Universe: Comics | Words: 10,179 | Chapters: 4 | Status: Complete

Summary: Four vignettes from four different time periods over the course of Rogue and Gambit’s relationship. 

Lovethelebeax says: Heehee I've only written like four things so this will be easier for me than most 😅 it's this one, my first in 20 years

The Tailor & The Seamstress by Ludi_Ling @ludi-ling [ao3] [ff.net]

Rating: M | Universe: X-Men |Words: 58,659 | Chapters: 13 | Status: Complete

Summary: Remy LeBeau is the creative lead at a waning fashion house in 1910 New York. Over the street is his employer’s rival, where a pretty and talented seamstress happens to work. Romance ensues, of course - in-between a friendly rivalry, that is. 

Ludi says: It was a tough call on which fic to choose, but I settled on this one because the last fic I write is always the one I'm most proud of, and this is the last one I completed! Last summer @narwhallove challenged me to write a Romy fic that played on my love of both them and of historical fashion. She threw some ideas at me, and I wrote nearly an entire chapter. Then, X-Men '97 starts, and I read back on what I wrote in July '23, and suddenly the rest of the story unfolds before me. I had a blast writing it! And I hope you have fun reading it too 😉

But I Can’t Trace Time by Sandmans_Raven @sandmansraven [ao3]

Rating: T | Universe: Comics | Words: 8,998 | Chapters: 1 | Status: Oneshot 

Summary: After a battle with the time-traveling mutant-hunter known as Ahab, Rogue is sent into the future. To get back, she must rely on old friends and put a stop to Ahab’s plans. 

Toys by Spaceorphan @spaceorphan18 [ao3]

Rating: T | Universe: Comics | Words: 1,619 | Chapters: 1 | Status: Oneshot 

Summary: Romy catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hiatus announcement.

Hi friends. I've got some stuff I need to focus on in my personal life right now, and I'm not able to balance that with keeping up with Tumblr and Discord. I'll be taking a hiatus starting immediately. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but hopefully it won't be too long. If you have submitted a request for a fic, design, or artwork, please know I'll do my absolute best to fill it when I'm back, but for now, I need to be present in my real life.

I love you all, and I'll miss you, and I can't wait to come back! I'll put a few more details below the cut in case you're interested. CW for medical issues.

My partner has been unwell recently, and this week, we discovered that they have a blood clot in their leg. Further testing revealed they have a serious heart condition. Unfortunately, they also have a preexisting vascular condition that makes blood thinners risky, but their PCP went ahead and prescribed a three-month course of medication for the clot since it's an immediate issue. We are waiting to hear if insurance will cover the meds; apparently this prescription gets rejected by insurers frequently due to the cost. (Thinking about the fact that some analyst in a cubicle could decide that my partner's life is worth less than a three-month course of medication is making me feel absolutely sick.)

They have more appointments scheduled with a cardiologist and a vascular surgeon, so for now, we're just kind of stuck in limbo. Their PCP gave us a long list of, "If x happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If y happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If z happens - you guessed it - go to the emergency room immediately."

At this point, I'm still trying to come to terms with it. My partner just turned 44. We have an active lifestyle; we eat healthfully; we don't drink to excess. We just got fucked over by genetic risk factors.

The scariest part is that we wouldn't have found out about any of this if they hadn't gone to the doctor for a completely unrelated issue. I'm trying not to think about it too hard, or my imagination starts to send me into a spiral.

Please allow me to get sappy for a moment:

If you've read much of my work, you probably know my partner better than you might think, as they inspire a lot of my characterization, either directly or indirectly. If you enjoyed the way I wrote Waxer in "The Sixth Language" or Jesse in "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves," then you have a good idea of their personality. They are extraordinarily kind and patient, funny and sweet. They have been here for me consistently for twenty years, first as my friend, and later as my everything. They've held me when I cried, and they've made me laugh every single day since I met them. They know me better than anyone in the world, and I trust them with my soul.

They are the only person IRL who even knows that I write fanfiction, and they have read every single fic I've ever written. They've served as my guinea pig when I needed to work through the physical mechanics of a scene, and they've listened to me ramble for hours on end about plotting and characterization. They've supported and encouraged me in this and so many other areas, and now it's my turn to support them through this.

If you've read this far, I just want to say thank you for all the love, support, encouragement, and kindness you've given me over the past year. This fandom community has truly changed my life, and I am more grateful than words can communicate. I hope to see you all again very soon, hopefully with good news. But in the meantime, please know that I love you all.

May the Force be with you. 🩵

[sprinklenoodles]

I'm baaaaack! I got a doozy of a piece too! For The Heir of Despair!

Read all that was there and I am here to share my thoughts in a slightly coherent way! Sorry in advance if I repeat myself! First, Byakuya, my boy. Oh my gosh are you an irredeemable prick! I say this in a good way by the way! Like, you wrote him good in the sense that I am routing for his downfall in some way and was very excited near the end when he slightly didn't get his way. Bravo! You have succeeded in making me dislike my boy! (I still love him <3) But, anyway, reading what's here really got my brain thinking! Like, what might happen with Byakuya and Junko. In fact, Here's a lightning round of fun little questions that make my brain do acrobatics in a skating park! Not for answering of course! That's be lame! I must expel these out though haha!

There! Got it out of my system!! As for some other thoughts, I enjoy the canon divergences! Obviously the main gimmick is itself one, but you get what I mean! Also, I have no way to segway into this but I was no joke quoting and spouting a bunch of goofy crap and like, I can't just NOT give a peak into the innerworkings of my mind. So, here. Take those and a bit of tidbits on the context I said them in. "Leave that little guy alone!" - Said mostly for Chihiro and Makoto, both when Byakuya was manipulate, mansplain, malewife-ing his way through existence. Less malewife though. Or scratch it. No malewife-ing for him. Not in this time line u_u "Byakuya! Have you learned nothing!" - Just any time Byakuya was doing stuff I found worthy of mocking him for. Might have to re-read everything to find the specifics cus I unfortunately did not count those moments in a spread sheet T-T "You're no good, Byakuya! You'll never be shit! You're just like your father!" - I find this one funny cus I legit find Kijo a saint in this in comparison to his son. It's both because the man hasn't really done much and he's not the focus. I also had a realization though that the reason I want this Byakuya to suffer so much is because I know he can do better than this! Like, Byakuya as a character! Unlike Kijo, he has the potential for redeemable qualities which makes his reveling in his own ego less camp, more pathetic. Like, Kijo makes it fun because he sucks, he will never improve, and that's that! And it's not like Byakuya can't be that fun camp! He just has to not be a monster! I like this factor in this Byakuya though in this fic. It really encapsulates how bad he could be. How he can surpass his father in horrible behavior, and actions. Like, it's sick reading how much he enjoys all of this and you did a really good job at it! Also, I have no idea how to fit this either but I DID mentally joke to myself that I wouldn't mind Junko actually cutting of a limb from Kijo just to make Byakuya suffer a bit (even if it probably won't be much sadly) and I have no idea how to take that... I think that, weirdly enough, I like ridiculing this Byakuya. I want him to fail. And like, it's insane you're writing can do that!! Be proud!! Like, this isn't even the type of fic I normally read and I've been able to enjoy it. You wrote many variants of just one rich guy and they're all distinct enough to feel different about them but similar enough where you can see where the divergences lie and I really like that!! And, it's oddly cool reading something and knowing that I could never write this. This goes for all your fics by the way but like, it's really cool reading this and just knowing that someone's able to write something I could never. I'm too much of a softie for Byakuya, even when I'm mean to him heehee! No clue if this makes sense by the way. I'm kinda blabbering now so I might end it here! But yeah! You got some cool stuff!

Aaahhh!!! Thank you!!! LOVE the art as always, it looks AWESOME!!

And yeah, Byakuya is NOT a good guy. He's very much a prick and supposed to be like that.

As for your questions, I obviously can't answer those... Though, the answer to some are no and some are yes... That's all I'll say.

And Chihiro is really going through it, with Makoto joining him soon. Byakuya will unfortunately not be leaving them alone 😔

Kijo is strangely enough a better person here, though he still ain't good. Like, he is very much on board with the killing game. He doesn't really like that Byakuya is in it cuz he doesn't want his heir to die, but that's all.

He's also very petty tho and is quite offended Byakuya kept him in the dark about everything. It's why he agreed to the motive. And unfortunately, no missing limbs for Kijo. That is reserved for another dad only in an AU that isn't mine...

But Byakuya is not nice, yeah. And like you said, he could be much better but he simply doesn't want to. He likes the way things are and loves to manipulate some of his classmates.

And that makes people not like him, just as intended. He's the protagonist but one you want to fail. Cuz if he doesn't, that means something bad for the rest of the cast...

But thank you!! I really like writing these different versions of him and it's really not as hard as it might seem. Tbh, it comes kinda natural if anything! Though, I get being the softie to Byakuya, I myself would never hurt him... Other than the countless times he got injured in my fics... :D

[still-fatemeh]

失 しっ 敗 ぱい (shippai)

Dark era! dazai X prostitute! reader

[The reader has a name, again. Because I don't like putting the word y/n into the fic, but this isn't really an oc, you can read your name instead of the character's. Tsuneko was the name of the bartender yozo commits double suicide in No Longer Human, that results in his survival and tsuneko's death. I've written this a long time ago, its ooc and full of mistakes but bare with me I'm writing another one that's better. Dazai acts younger than his dark era counterpart but he's addressed as an executive, his age something between sixteen to seventeen. But I wrote this with fifteen dazai in mind, which makes the age of the girl a bit too messed up, so I abandoned it. She's a year younger. And yes, I stole one too many parts from the light novels 'cause my english wasn't that good at the time. Enjoy (^3^)/]

It was a dumping ground-a place long forgotten by all. Beneath the stormy sky of the night lay haphazard piles of shipping containers, one on top of the other like dead bodies. Toxic substances illegally dumped in the area seeped into the open soil. Even field mice knew to stay away.

The sound of high heels clicking on the ground and dazai's soundless dress shoes was the only thing that could be heard at such hour at night. The figure in red dress was a guest, stepping hesitantly behind dazai. Tsuneko had been doubting her decision one too many times now, but was following him meekly nonetheless.

Not located on any map, this was the loneliest place in Yokohama. And near its center lived Dazai.

Dazai didn't live in a house, though. He lived inside one of the thrown-away shipping containers originally used for exporting cars to foreign countries.

As soon as dazai stopped walking, tsuneko questioned.

"Where's this, dazai-san?"

Dazai turned and looked right at her with a sheepish smile as he put his hands in his pockets.

"It's a good hideout for you tonight."

He turned back to face the front once again and took two more steps forward before stopping.

"The reason I'm taking you here is because you need a place to stay for tonight, as simple as that. And this is as far away and secluded as a place can get in the city. There's no better hiding spot for someone. Don't worry. I won't kill you."

He said with a soft and carefree laugh that made a shiver run down tsuneko's spine.

She entered the container after dazai did, as quiet as a mouse. After dazai turned on the only light, she observed the inside with a confused look.

Inside the large container was a refrigerator, an exhausted fan, a desk and chair, a bed, and a small and a naked light bulb.

"Is this where you live?"

She asked with a skeptical tone of voice.

"Unfortunately, yes."

He turned and faced her as he folded his arms behind his back.

"The organisation I work for could supply me with a house but I don't care for that kinda thing. This place is enough for me."

He tilted his head ever so slightly and stared at the ceiling for a moment as a thoughtful look came across his face.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No, not at all... Go ahead."

Tsuneko answered as she kicked off her heels. She wasn't as tense as before. She didn't even seem uncomfortable because of the oddity that was the shipping as a home. Dazai assumed she'd seen worse, so that wasn't a big deal for her.

"What's it like living at the brothel?"

He turned and looked directly at her with a solemn expression, he then walked over to the light switch and turned it off, leaving only the gentle glow of the outside night sky shining into the container from the gaps in between the metal walls. He then took a seat back on the bed and motioned towards her.

"Sit with me."

"It's... nothing pleasant."

She finally spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice though she managed to flash him a faint smile of gratitude for sheltering her tonight as she slowly walked towards him, the sound of unsure feet stepping on the metal flooring cutting through the silence.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Tsuneko sat on the bed, giving him a glance from the corner of her eyes. Baby blue, and glassy like porcelain, shining in the dark.

"Just curious."

He smiled with his gaze still locked onto her pale, azure stare. He could understand her cautiousness and uncertainty. She had been living on the run, and she was right to be afraid of him. However, in this specific case, she had no reason to be wary. As weird as it sounds, right now dazai's intentions were pure.

"Does he hurt you a lot? The owner I mean."

Her eyes darted to the ground, looking somewhere in the darkness with a solemn face.

"He raised me, I have no right to complain. And now he wants the money he spent on me back."

She sighed, shaking her head, trying to forget the stinging wounds and the screaming, especially the night that never fades in her memory.

"But it was too much money in a really short time..."

Dazai let out a breath and looked down at the bed in a melancholy expression as he listened to her.

"So how many years of your pay go to him, then?"

His voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were cold in an unsettling way as he waited for her reply. It was something he knew, but wanted her to say it herself.

"Two years of my pay 'til now, the filthy money that I made since I was fifteen. He wants the rest of it whole, and I have no such way of getting all that much money all of a sudden."

Her eyes were empty, they reminded him of his own when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

She went silent a few minutes, before speaking again.

...

"I've always wondered dazai-san, is there a reason you wear bandages on the right side of your face, is there an injury?"

There wasn't an injury.

A random question, to distract herself from the demons of her past.

A slight chuckle and a grin crossed his face as he looked at her.

"There's no injury. It's purely cosmetic. I do it because it looks neat! That's pretty much it."

He then paused in thought, looking into the shadows with his one visible eye.

She merely cocked a brow at his response, her eyes glimmering in that darkness with something akin to amusement.

"I've never seen anyone use bandages as cosmetics, it's weird honestly. Are you trying to make your soul look more pretty and beautiful? Because your appearance only looks more frail and sickly with them on."

She teased, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips.

"Heh, you sure have a way with words."

He tilted his head in amusement as she teased.

"So basically you're saying I look ugly with the bandages and even more ugly without them?"

She snickered lightheartedly at his response.

"No, you're quite a handsome guy, in my opinion..."

She praised him with a giggle, it felt like a mother praising her little son in a new outfit. It didn't sound flirtatious at all.

Dazai blinked, a perplexed look flashed over him for a few moments as tsuneko praised him in a motherly way. He wasn't sure how to take it. It wasn't unpleasant just a bit strange.

"Tell you what. I'm feeling generous tonight. How about, for tonight only, you can call me dazai, just dazai. Not dazai-san. There's no need for such 'honorifics'."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He wanted to keep himself detached but that little smile gave away his hidden emotions.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him with a surprised expression.

"I'm aware you don't like me asking personal questions about you but, what do you do for a living, dazai?"

He just tilted his head in a more thoughtful manner.

"You know the Port Mafia, right? Well... I'm a member of this group. Specifically an executive."

He explained it with the most casual and relaxed tone of voice possible.

She snickered even louder.

"Yeah, also, I'm not a whore, I'm an actress playing roles in hollywood!"

Tsuneko joked in an exggrated manner, not taking his statement of being a port mafia executive seriously. She thought he said it as a joke.

Port mafia was a terrifying organisation, there's no way this lump of bandages could be working there. You needed to be an inhumane monster to be able to do such dirty work and also, the money was probably filthier than the money she made.

"Where do you actually work? Or are you just loafing around in a shipping container living off unemployment benefits from the government?"

Dazai just stared at her for a moment as she spoke. Then, out of the blue, he just started laughing. And when he started laughing, he continued laughing louder and louder. At first it was just a light chuckle, but soon it turned into a hysterical laughter. He held his right arm across his chest as the left gripped his sides.

His body started shaking from the laughter as his mouth formed a wide grin.

"Why? Why do you think so hard about me being an executive of the Port Mafia? Is it impossible for you to believe?"

His hysterical laughter made tsuneko gulp hard, trying to make sense of dazai's behaviour.

He was a bit nuts, that was for sure.

"But, my guy... People like mafia executives are filthy rich, they don't live in shipping containers or go to dingy brothels for a night of fun. They are important people with loads of money, a number that you and I can't even dream of, at least I can't."

Tsuneko was just a girl. Compared to him, she was as innocent as a lamb.

She just tapped her index finger on her bottom lip in an overdramatic display of thoughtfulness.

"To me, you seem to be from a rich background. You are intelligent, educated and well-spoken and your clothes look quite expensive. Maybe just the fact that you weren't raised properly. Something happened and you aren't with your family anymore. Did they disown you or something?"

The girl's assumptions were based on her logic and proofs but only this time, she was dead wrong.

To an outsider, seeing the title of Mafia executive on a guy who could easily be mistaken for some kid would be a hilarious joke. But they wouldn't be laughing if they saw Dazai's list of achievements, a dark and bloody list.

Around half of the Port Mafia's profits those past year were all thanks to him. A little girl like her couldn't even fathom just how much money that was, nor how many lives were lost as a result.

Dazai's laughter continued as he placed his hands on his knees and hunched over in delight. His hair fell over his eyes as his voice was muffled from all the laughter.

"Oh, tsuneko-chan! What a silly little girl you are."

He looked up at the shocked and to an extent concerned girl with a wide grin.

"You're right about one thing, I came from a wealthy family. And no, I was not disowned by them. I left of my own will. Why? I was bored. The answer's simple like that. I just got bored."

She flashed him a semi-worried expression and her brow shot up in confusion upon hearing his intense laughter.

:"Are you okay, my guy? Like... are you fine? How much did you drink at that bar?"

She shook her head with faux disappointment.

"I'm completely fine."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a faint grin as he stared down at the girl.

:"You left your family, because you merely got bored?"

She asked, a little perplexed by that apathy.

:"I don't know why... But that's completely up your alley, dazai."

Tsuneko's tone shifted to a more serious one as she said that.

"Yes, it is exactly something I would do. It's not that hard to understand."

Dazai took a moment to calm himself as a more serious expression crossed his face.

"You know, you're awfully curious, tsuneko-chan. You've asked me quite a few questions."

He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked down at her.

She gives him an unconvinced expression, her brows knitted together in confusion but she eventually just sighs softly.

"I get that a guy like you might get bored of his own family, It sounds like something you would do because, yeah, that's totally up your alley. But... But... Do you not miss them? Did you not love them? Didn't you want any of that inheritance money?"

She asked, with sincerity in her eyes. Despite the fact that her mother died in a brothel, she'd still give up her life to see her just one more time.

He stayed silent for a moment as he considered her question.

"Miss them? Love them?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed as he looked into the dark void once more.

"Of course I miss them. That kind of attachment does not disappear in a few months. And as for love...."

He closed his eyes and chuckled.

"I've heard of it before, but what exactly is love? What is 'missing' someone? I may be a simple-minded individual, but I have not yet learned any of these things."

She takes it back, he is more than a little nuts, indeed.

"Love is an attachment, an attachment to life."

Tsuneko answered, her eyes and expression blank though her tone was slightly grim.

"You wanna cherish the one that you love. That type of attachment leads to sacrifice... It's when you put someone else before yourself."

She spoke with a far off look on her face.

The word 'love'. Did it have any meaning? Love was filth for people like her.

"You know... I think I figured why you want to kill yourself so bad. We accept the love we think we deserve, you think you don't deserve any. You view yourself as a stranger, dazai."

She gently touched his hand, as a form of reassurance.

"Do you think I need someone telling me that?"

He stared down at her her hand as the corners of his lips curved upwards into a light smile. Something about the gesture was quite touching.

"But thank you, the way you spoke about love sounds beautiful. I haven't seen much love and attachment in this cruel world thus far. It is quite nice."

He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"Hmm, am I a stranger to myself? I suppose you could be right. I never really thought about that."

A faint frown grew on his face as he looked up at tsuneko again.

"It looks as if you are."

She just commented with a soft sigh.

But she wasn't looking at him, it seemed that she was somewhere far away, truly deep into her memories. With the far off and grim look on her face, dazai could guess that they were far from good memories.

She intertwined their fingers and brought it to her lips, pecking his hand oh so gently.

He flinched from the sudden action and turned to look at tsuneko, his left eyebrow raised.

"Hmm?"

He looked down at their intertwined fingers as they were brought to her lips. A light blush spread across his cheeks and his dark brown eyes widened as he looked at her in surprise.

He didn't know what he was feeling in this moment—was it pleasure, discomfort, or maybe something else entirely? The words 'love' and 'attachment' still sounded new to him.

"Tsuneko-chan, what exactly was that just now?"

He chirped with a lighthearted tone, his face not at all in sync with what was going on in his head.

Was she flirting? Was it a form of comfort? Or was it something entirely different—a gesture of gratitude for giving her shelter here tonight?

He had no idea, but he certainly felt something.

"Old habits die hard."

She spoke, seemingly nonchalant as she let go of his hand.

"What I mean is... I owe you one, I'd have to repay you one way or another... However you'd want me to."

The girl was speaking with a lopsided grin, as if unbothered by all that happened.

Dazai's face was stained by a bright shade of red. He was stunned, completely speechless as he stared at her with his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

Did she actually just…

Did she really just offer to—

Oh.

That's exactly what she did.

He didn't know what to say. So much was happening all at once that his brain felt like it was moving in slow motion.

"Red suits you."

Tsuneko's lips absent-mindedly twitched into a pleased smile, as she said that. Her tone a bit teasing.

"I've never seen you flustered before..."

She mused, suppressing the urge to giggle.

This guy was a mystery to his core, unravelling him has to be like unravelling bandages... layer by layer. Dazai was willing to get to know her... It wasn't everyday that people wanted a whore's opinion on questions like whether or not life is worth living. He listened to what she had to say, and that was enough for her to consider his company a bliss.

Dazai's cheeks were on fire by this point. Everything she said was pushing his nerves to the very edge. She even said red suits him—his cheeks were burning up—and he didn't have any logical explanations for this whatsoever. Something about hearing these words come out of her mouth just threw him off.

"You certainly have a strange way of showing gratitude."

"Do I now?"

She said, cocking a brow in amusement.

"It's the only way I know."

The next words however, left her mouth quietly, with a sarcastic edge to them.

Umi curled up more comfortably on the bed they were sitting on, hugging her knees with a sigh.

"But all jokes aside, thank you for getting me out of the brothel without any pressure for doing... stuff, even for one night. I was really going crazy there, tomorrow when the owner wanted his money, I didn't have any chance to pay him back but now at least I can buy some time... I really owe you for tonight."

She said with a subtle smile.

"It seems that I really have a talent for getting myself into debt, hm?"

Dazai nodded at her and a faint smile spread across his face.

"You really do have a talent for that, tsuneko-chan."

He paused for a moment, his mind going over every word she said. Why did he offer to help in the first place? What was even going through his mind at this rate? As he thought, he shifted his focus of on her and raised a eyebrow.

"You're really that deep in debt, huh?"

"For... A lot of people the amount I owe the owner isn't considered much, but for me it's quite a lot of money."

She mumbled with a quiet voice, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She still remembered very well the last time she told the owner she didn't have the money, even the thought of it made her body hurt.

After a few minutes of silence, she broke it with a whisper of his name.

"Dazai..."

She looked at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face.

"Were you actually telling the truth when you said you worked in the port mafia for a living, as an executive? You weren't joking?"

He remained quite for a moment. His silence hung in the air as he stared down at the girl with an almost eerie seriousness. He wanted to say "yes" but his mouth wouldn't form the words. It was almost as if his throat was filled with concrete. His dark eyes darted away from her as his body language seemed much more timid than before. He looked away and finally muttered something.

"Yes..I was telling the truth."

Tsuneko let out a loud groan and rolled over in his bed. Her back facing him, she was internally cursing herself for... she couldn't even say for what, but her options were quite a lot.

"So that must real the real deal then?"

She said aimlessly, her hand pointed to the direction of the coat hanger, a silver pistol's handle sticking out of the pocket of his one of coats. It was one of his subordinates' that he'd Probably forgotten to return. Probably the reason she'd asked the question in the first place. She didn't look scared while pointing that out, her expression was solemn, her eyes clouded over with something unrecognizable.

There was a moment of intense silence in the air. Tsuneko was pointing her finger to and the outline of the gun in the pocket of his coat and he had already noticed her staring at it. He looked back down at his coat and then back up at her again. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice sounded strangely stern.

"Yes..It is the real deal."

The man in front of her probably was the thing he said he was, an executive of the port mafia. He could've easily be mistaken for some boy. Too young to be taken seriously. That sparked the same question again, why did he lived in a shipping container? If he was really an executive, he would've been filthy rich.

Of all the questions she could've asked, the most uselessly obvious one found its way to her lips.

"Have you ever... killed someone?"

The girl speaks with a slightly stretched out voice.

There was a slight hesitation, but he eventually answered.

"More times than I can count. The first time was when I was 14."

He answered simply, his face void of emotions despite what he was saying. His dark eyes showed nothing. He sat there as if he were narrating a story from a book instead of an admission of guilt. Yet his words held a certain weight to them. The weight of all his past deeds.

Tsuneko gulped.

She'd fucked up.

She'd fucked up so bad.

She'd trusted a guy who'd killed more people than he could count... but that was exactly it. She didn't regret her decision. A port mafia executive, an actual executive of the port mafia... If he really was from Port Mafia, she would have to be careful even about lifting or lowering a spoon in front of him. When it comes to the Port Mafia, the synonym of darkness and violence, there's no assurance that if she does something he doesn't like she wouldn't be murdered. That'd definitely hurt more than the owner's beating.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?"

Tsuneko asked dryly, the back of her head still facing dazai.

"No, not really. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I always end up having the same nightmare."

He leaned back against the bed, putting his hands behind his head. His dark brown eyes fixed in on the ceiling for a few moments, before he looked at her.

Umi sat up on the bed and her eyes silently scanned his face, a curious expression shining on her features.

"A nightmare? Is it the same one every night?"

What it would take for a nightmare to keep a person like you awake at nights?

He remained silent for a moment. The dark brown of his single visible eye flashed with a slight spark of sympathy as he saw the sad expression on her face. She seemed so innocent yet she was stuck here. A life of pain and agony. He had to look away from her for a moment before finally speaking again.

"And... Yes, it's the same nightmare every time."

"What is that nightmare of yours that manages to keep you awake at nights?"

It was more or less a rhetorical question, she knew he wasn't going to answer him.

"The only thing I can imagine you fearing, is not being able to die."

She said that with a subtle smile.

"Maybe it's a warning of some sort."

A soft, bitter smile spread across his lips. But his eyes remained filled with sorrow and his words carried the faint feeling of shame.

"It is a warning of sorts. Not being able to die. But there is also another part of this nightmare that keeps me up at night."

His voice felt hoarse as the next words had a certain difficulty in coming out of his mouth. As he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to even look at the girl sitting in front of him.

"You really think that I would just snap and kill you for a random ass reason..? Don't you think that's a bit of a stretch?"

"Common sense commands me to be scared of the person with a loaded gun."

She whispered softly under her breath.

"Ah, I see. I'd imagine you would've met quite a lot of shady characters, working in a brothel."

"Yeah, I know. I've met lots of port mafia members, they're far from friendly if they don't get what they want. Working in a place like I do, you will see this kind of people a lot. People who are used to getting their way, one way or another."

She says that with a distant gaze and he just nods his head.

"You're funny."

Tsuneko suddenly said with a calm smile.

:"That's the first thing that struck my thoughts when you first spoke about how excited you were to finally off yourself, explaining and comparing different methods of suicide like you were comparing different games you wanted to play. Any normal person fears death, but you seem to be driven towards it, hoping for a kind of excitement. Something to cure you boredom but man..."

She spoke with a mindless snicker, albeit a little bit bitter.

"But... I bet you know better... Bein' mafia and stuff... But death isn't anything exciting. No one around me has died with dignity, they've all died like street mice stuck in a glue trap. Died in fear, in pain, in filth, in blood. So to think that you want to die so bad, really annoys me. Because death isn't anything precious to begin with."

His eyebrows narrowed as he heard her words. Was she mocking him? Was she scolding him? His mouth contorted into a grimace at the way she talked about life and death as if it was something simple. His voice was barely a whisper as he whispered back to her.

"Then why haven't you died yet? If the world is so full of pain and suffering for you, why do you bother to breathe each day? Why did you crawl out of the drainage ditch instead of just lying there and dying?"

"The less you have to lose, the more you cling to life. Hoping for something that will never come..."

She says, her smile not faltering. But it was certainly bitter now. Her gaze was as sticky as mud.

"There's also something else..."

She leaned closer to whisper into his ear.

"I'm scared of the fact that when I die, there wouldn't be anyone there to bury my corpse, no one to mourn for me. Dying in a cold dark alley, left there to rot for god know how much time."

Her pale blue eyes rivalled his chocolate ones, in terms of how much they were depraved of light.

"Let me tell you something, my guy. Death wouldn't be anything out of your expectations, nothing beyond what you would expect will appear. Death isn't the sweet release, it's just another step in life that you have to take."

He finally turned his eyes back at her. They were darker and sadder than before, void of all light. His mouth was set into a soft frown. With a weak voice, full of resignation, and perhaps acceptance, he whispered at her, his tone strangely empty.

"Why... Why didn't you just let the owner kill you back there? If the world is so pointless, and people suffer so greatly... why do you cling so desperately to life? There's nothing here for you, especially not for someone like you. Just let go already."

"I... don't want to die like a sewer rat, dazai."

Tsuneko's words came out as a desperate plea for life.

Then it hit dazai, she wasn't like him.

"My mother wanted me to become someone who she could be proud of. A person of value. I'm not going to let her down, not when she sacrificed everything so I could live."

She had nothing to lose, it doesn't matter how many times life kicks her down, she'd still stand up.

Dazai could see the determination in her eyes, the intent to survive.

"As long your heart is beating, you shouldn't waste it, not a lot of people have that privilege. "

"...The human spirit. It never ceases to amaze me."

Dazai mumbled those words under a quiet breath. His words were full of both admiration as well as some contempt. Admiration for the sheer strength she had. Contempt for the fact that she was so naive at the same time.

"Your mother must be a good person if her last wish for you was for you to live a meaningful life."

A smile found it's way to her lips, a wide, beaming smile like a little girl who'd just been gifted a precious doll. her eyes crinkled with her smile.

:"I loved her so much... and I still do. I would give up on the world just to see her smile one more time."

She mumbled, looking at dazai with glimmering pupils, dilated with childlike joy. A total contrast from her eyes a few moments ago.

"Do you want to know what my mom did when I woke up crying because of a nightmare? How she lulled me back to sleep?"

She asked with a wide grin.

"What did she do?"

Dazai asked quietly, not missing the sudden, stark contrast in her expression. There was a certain warmth that suddenly appeared in her eyes. Almost as if she were a different person.

"Why don't I show you?"

She giggled, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Tsuneko brushed a hand through her hair, gesturing him to lay his head on her lap so she could stroke his hair. The smile lingered on her lips, it was enduring in a way.

There was a moment of doubt, a moment where he considered whether accepting her invitation or refusing it, before he finally did. He slowly placed his head on her lap, looking up at her with a somewhat puzzled expression.

Her hands began to stroke his hair as she mumbled some old melody under her breath. Her touch was soft and gentle and there was something comforting and nostalgic about it. As if he'd felt it before. But despite the comforting nature of her gesture, dazai's nose was still scrunched up uncomfortably.

"Is what I'm doing right now, perhaps... bothering you?"

She asked him with a sly grin.

"No."

Dazai replied in a soft, almost monotonous voice. But there was no mistaking that the touch of her hand was soothing to him. However, he wasn't going to tell her that. There was something a little bit embarrassing about it. Still, he decided not to move or resist against her. He just let his hair be stroked and his eyes be fixed on her.

She couldn't help the smile creeping up her face, as she saw his face. Dazai looked like an awe-struck boy.

"You like it, don't you?"

She teased him in a playful manner as she ran her fingers through his chocolate locks gently.

:"Your hair is so fluffy~"

She said in a baby voice, giggling as she messed his hair. Dazai was surprised at how much it came naturally to her, being this affectionate. Tsuneko has never had anyone to shower with her affection, now that he wasn't resisting it, she continued. Just like a little girl playing with a doll, showering it with with care and affection.

For an executive of the Port Mafia this was something beyond embarrassing for him. He was being treated like a little kid again. He thought of how this would look to people if they knew the fearsome Port Mafia executive that dazai was, was laying down in the lap of a prostitute with his eyes half-closed in pleasure. But the only thing he could really do was enjoy the moment as he lay there. It felt a little bit shameful, how much this affected him. He even felt his stomach flutter as her fingers ran through his hair and she spoke in that soft baby voice.

Dazai couldn't help but consider that she had an ulterior motive from all this, that she was putting up an act to deceive him. But the thing that scared him even further, was that he couldn't find any proof for his assumptions.

The smile on her face seemed so genuine, so sincere... like she was showing him a glimpse of her conscious, how it feels when she loves somebody.

While he was looking for a sign to tell that she was acting, he noticed her smile. Her smile was soft and gentle, full of fondness. As childish as it was, her smile was beautiful. It was so enduring the way her cheeks had a red hue to them, when she looked at him like that. It was a rare moment of vulnerability on both sides.

He kept staring at her. He let everything sink in. He took in all the beauty of her smile, of her blush, of her eyes. This simple, silly little gesture was causing him to feel so much. He couldn't get enough of her eyes. He could have stayed like this forever- just staring up at her, as she stared down at him. It was something unexpected, but also not unwelcome. He felt like, for the first time in such a long time, he wasn't a cold-hearted outsider. He was feeling human again.

Tsuneko leaned closer to his ear.

"I promise... Tonight, there wouldn't be any nightmares..."

She whispered, her voice filled with a sincere certainty, she knew that tonight he wouldn't be seeing any nightmares. Before muttering something else under her breath, which he couldn't quite grasp what it was, perhaps, 'good night'?

That was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep...

[cherryyan49]

Pretty girl

an isaacwhy fic

she/her prns, uses of [name]

based on the song : pretty girl by highvyn

a/n: hi ! um I've never wrote fics before, so I would like to apologize in advance c: I was listening to this song and had an idea, so I attempted to write it <3 I've also never written x readers before so erm anyways! here's isaac being a simp

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

7:16 pm

The white numbers read on Isaac’s computer. He glanced around his room after dispersing from his friends a few minutes prior. Low music played from his speakers, filling the silence, as he scrolled through his instagram seeing your newest post. It was a little camera roll dump, consisting of images of you, plants and other random things that had some significance to you. He smiled to himself, pretty girl, he thought. Isaac would like to not admit to the fact that you have a lingering effect on him, constantly infecting his brain as if you were a zombie. But in fact, you’re not a zombie, you’re one of his closest friends, one of his pretty friends. A certain notification startled his trance,

‘hii !! would you like to come over for a small dinner, just me and you? I made some really good fajitas, and I don’t want to drive :T would you please ignore the mess <3’ –[initial]

He read your texts, come over– dinner– please ignore the mess. Immediately, he sent a response and grabbed his keys. The latter couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you, let alone have dinner with you. Your text made him more giddy than just thinking about you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

Isaac stood in front of your black apartment door, contemplating whether or not he should rip the bandaid off tonight. Normally, he wouldn’t even consider talking about these feelings to you ever. Especially not after all of his friends told him to do otherwise. He shook off his thoughts and knocked on your door. And there you were, the pretty girl, his close friend, asking him to dinner, standing right in front of him. Smiling, he followed you inside and towards her table. He couldn’t help but look around the girl’s place as if he hadn't seen it over a million times.

“What mess am I supposed to be ignoring here, [name]?” Isaac asked, carefully snooping around your mini dining room. His face softened, hearing you giggle;

“The kitchen is a wreck because I didn’t want to clean up for once. The rest of the place should be fine, but that’s why I invited you,” she teased back.

He playfully rolled his eyes, smiling at the way you smiled, gently grabbing his plate and handing it to him. Isaac admired the way you held yourself, even making a chicken fajita taco, he loved every single second of it. You turned to him, gesturing for him to make his plate, giggling once more

“You know I want someone to look at me the way you look at my lovely cooking.”

Isaac was taken aback for a moment, thinking he got himself caught staring at, uh your cooking? He made up a silly comment, defending that your cooking looks by far better than anything he’s seen at his house. The two of you bantered, with the occasional sharing of glances that made Isaac feel all giddy again. He just couldn’t explain it, you were like an angel who spawned right in front of him. You felt so close, yet so far from his grasp. He knew that you didn’t want him, he just knew. You guys had been friends for years, he didn’t want to lose you over some silly feelings. [Name] was going on about how her friends won’t leave her alone about her dating life, and the group. She was going on about multiple things, but Isaac had to confess,

“If I’m honest, I don't really like your friends. They’re obsessed. Not– not all of your friends, just the ones who struggle to listen to you when you’ve asked them many times,” his breath hitched, “That came out a little harsher than I intended.”

You looked away, thinking about what he said. He wasn’t all wrong, your friends weren’t the best when it came to these things, especially your best friend. Isaac quickly reached towards you, apologizing once more. His mind clouded with guilt, there was no way I just blew it again, he thought. 

“No, no you’re right, they are a bit obsessed with it, I just hate it. Like, talk to me about something else for once in a while, you know? I don’t want to talk about my feelings about someone all the time,” she said, giving Isaac a reassuring look.

“Yeah, I get it. It does seem frustrating having people act like lice in your hair,” he joked, getting [name] to laugh a bit. 

“Shut up,” she giggled. “Was the food good? I feel like I can talk to you for hours, sometimes I forget the main reason why I brought you here.”

Isaac giggled softly, “Yes the food was good. And I’m glad to say I guess have that impact on some people,” he began looking away, tossing his invisible long hair off his shoulder.

Isaac felt the hours go by after talking to you, getting lost into your words on the couch as it hits half past nine. He just never wanted to leave, which freaked him out at first. Him realizing that you really do have an effect on him, and he was scared. Isaac? Being scared? Yes. Nick had talked to him a few days prior about [name]; saying how you were hard to catch as you seemed to be rejecting people left and right. But Isaac knew deep down that the reasoning was because they didn’t fit you. They didn’t ‘complete’ you in the way you wanted to be completed, even despite being a more ‘independent’ type of girl. No one could really recognize it, until Isaac pointed it out. Hell, even Yumi called Isaac crazy for liking you, he understands why, but he can’t help but not be able to fathom the idea of liking one of his best friends.

After what felt like an eternity, Isaac grew some balls. Isaac brushed your hair out of your face, swiping through it gently, to fall off your shoulder. You looked at him, flushed but confused. He continued talking as if nothing ever happened, rambling about his newest video idea. [Name] sat there, still basking in what had just happened, completely wanting to ignore the slight butterflies the other had just given her.

“Woa, it’s so late, I guess I just have to stay over,” Isaac teased, carrying out his words. You rolled your eyes, “Oh nooooo, I guess you have to sleep on the couch while I sleep in my wonderful cozy bed,” she bantered, dramatically sighing. 

Isaac laughed softly, he couldn’t help but think to himself.  He thought he should just wait and explore his feelings, rather than explode them right here, right now. After all, this friendship was worth more to him than trying to complicate things for you.

[Name] looked at him, not wanting him to leave just yet despite it getting late. You could tell he was in his own world, taken over by his thoughts for a brief moment. As you smiled, you got up, offering your hand out.

“I say, we go to the gas station and get snacks, but I mean only if you want to,” she said, looking around.

“You could just tell me you wanna spend more time with me, I understand you know,” Isaac’s face scrunched in a teasingly manner as he continued, “But I guess we can do that, and maybe I could take you for a drive.”

“Oh be quiet, who wanted to stay here just a few minutes ago?” she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“And who wants me to stay here?” he pushes back, as he takes her hand and pulls her in for a moment. Isaac felt a rush of confidence wash over him, as he looks down at the girl. He leans down to her ear, smiling while whispering, 

“Last one to the car is paying.”

And he booked it. [Name] just stood there, eyes widened, realizing she might actually be insane. Her, liking HIM?? Or him possibly liking her?? Has your heart normally race around him? Or was that just now? You were in denial to say the least. You locked your door and ran after the tall one.

Thick silence filled the car as Isaac drove to the nearest gas station. The only noise that was heard was the faint singing in the radio, as [Name] looked out the window, replaying the actions from before. Parking, Isaac glanced over at you, basking in the way your face was highlighted in reds and purples from the neon signs in front of the store. He would be lying if he said his brain wasn’t getting drunk off the way you got out and waited at his door for him. You both went wandering into the store, grabbing multiple items, and Isaac insisted on paying.

After settling in the car, Isaac asked if you had anywhere to be tomorrow morning, gaining a ‘no’ in response. He nodded and proceeded to drive aimlessly. He didn’t have a set place on taking you, he just wanted to drive around the city, just to see your face light up from the way the buildings were lit. Isaac couldn’t help but smile to himself, seeing you sway around to the low music as he found an area to park and sit. Everything she did, every move, every word, every facial expression made Isaac swoon. Making a few jokes here n there, just to hear your laugh, and vice versa.

[Name] laid her head down on his shoulder, looking at the view of the city in front of her. She grabbed his hands, messing with his fingers as he giggled. Isaac’s phone vibrated, causing [name] to sit up and look around nervously.

“Who was it,” she asked curiously.

“Just some dumb tiktok link Larry sent me, I don’t think any of the guys know I’m here with you actually,” he replied. 

You slowly nodded, “Secretive I see.” Isaac laughed lowly, “Yes, but only because I jumped up so fast when I saw your message earlier.” 

She smiled to herself, sharing glances with him. Isaac knew better, but he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned in a bit, smiling softly causing [name] to look at him.

“This may be a mistake, but I really wanna make it,” he says inaudible as he glances at her lips to her eyes back to her lips. She kisses him. Isaac was taken a bit surprised, but he most definitely didn’t complain. Her hands cupped both of his cheeks, and she moved back to look at him, hands still placed. 

“You were pining too much, I was getting impatient,” she apologized. 

“Well sorry I wanted to be a gentleman,” he replied. 

“Okay gentleman, you’re not allowed to stay the night anymore,” she teased, removing her hands from the other, and moving back. 

“That’s not very nice to someone you just kissed,” he faked being hurt, putting his hand on his heart as if it got ripped out. 

“I don’t have to kiss you in order for you to stay the night, of course.” 

“Oh but you should,” he egged on. 

“I knew kissing you would make your ego implode,” she teased back, playfully rolling her eyes. Isaac kissed her this time, resulting in a very defeated whine from the other. 

“So I can stay the night again? Your couch is quite comfortable you know.” 

[Name] closed her eyes and sighed, “Sure you can stay the night. BUT just the couch, we can talk about this in the morning.” 

Isaac smiled, "Whatever pretty girl. "

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

a/n: hi again, I hope you enjoyed that and if you didn't, don't tell me :] I hope it wasn't tooo bad, as I literally never write so aaaaa, who knows maybe I'll write more often idk !

[writingsbymo-mo]

Mystery of Siren Cove

Siren!Ran Haitani x F!Reader x Siren!Rindou Haitani

Rating: Mature

Contains: blood, mild descriptions of gore, pirate slang, kidnapping, mentions of wanting to breed you, placed under the siren spell, dubcon?

Summary: you arrive to port with Baji, hearing rumors of the deadly ghost ship the notorious Haitani Brothers sail. Despite Baji's warnings, you wish to uncover the secrets behind the disappearing crew and gain the bounty on the Haitanis' heads.

Minors DNI

This is darker than the fics I've wrote recently so read with caution

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧

"Baji, look! It's that ship! We've found them!" You screamed under your breath. There it was, the signature flag of the Haitanis. Rumor has it, they have it tattooed on their bodies. "The Haitanis are here!"

He rolled his eyes. "Better not be thinking what me thinks ye be thinking."

You sigh, heading into the tavern. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧

The Haitani Ghost Ship, the nickname many pirates have given their vessel. Anyone who encounters said ship never sees a single soul on board. No crew, no treasure, nothing. Just a pool of blood surrounding it. Worst yet, the brothers always returned with no remorse for the dead. A simple case of mutiny would be their answer.

Despite the tales, plenty of pirates alike still choose to board the Haitani's ship. Who knows if it's blatant curiosity or desperation that sends them to the ship of death. One thing is for sure, the brothers know how to manipulate plenty of pirates with their sweet voices.

A man slammed his pint down on the wooden table and snarked with a warning. "Ye shouldn't go thar lass or ye be next ship to Davey Jones."

"Bucko's right. Those Haitanis are the Scourg of the Seven Seas." Baji nods in agreement, taking swig of rum.

You sigh, "but Baji...I've a mission. Ye must listen!"

Baji slams his glass down, frustrated at your stubborness. "Ye mustn't! They're devils. Ye be eaten alive!" He furrowed his brows at you, worried at what'll become of you.

You turn your head towards the bar. The youngest brother, Rindou, was currently guzzling down bottles of rum with some fellow pirates in a game. If they lost, they'd be joining the next voyage on the Haitani. The oldest, Ran, was simply flirting and taking pirates and wenches to a room upstairs. He was known to bed a many at port. With those handsome features of his, droopy violet eyes, well groomed locks, and expensive attire for a mere pirate, even you could fall for his charm if you didn't have your head on straight.

"Baji, listen," you turn your head back towards him and sigh deeply, "I need to do this. Lives are at stake here. Why are thine men risking lives for the sunken treasure at Siren Cove?"

He sighed and grasped hands with his shakey ones. "Please...stay..."

"Baji..." You roll your eyes. "Please, I can handle it. When I've returned with their bounty, we'll be rich!"

He shook his head in disbelief. "There's no talking ye out if this aye? Fine...go on, ride the cursed ship."

"Sorry...I need to do this...for everyone's sake..." You lowered your gaze to the table and frowned.

Baji knew there was no talking you out of this now. He stood up and gave you a small smile. "At least...let me buy ye a farewell gift."

"Thanks Baji."

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧

"Aye, ye scalawags, it's time to board!" Yelled Rindou.

About thirty pirates made their way to the Haitani's ship, seemingly in a daze. You managed to sneak your way into the crowd boarding, headed directly for the cargo to hide. In the dark underbelly below deck, you found some crates to hide behind.

"All hands on deck! Lower the sails! Raise the anchors! Onward to Siren Cove maties!" Ran ordered the crew.

Hours pass being rocked back and forth on the steady waters when the ship went quiet except for the beautiful melody of a song unlike any you have heard before. Such lovely velvety pipes in the duet. Then it hit you. A duet....

The ship began to rock as the crew jumped into the sea below, hypnotized by the song. Sirens were near. The moment they heard the tune and jumped overboard, their fates were sealed. Suddenly, you heard many screams from the waters below. Scratching at the ship from fellow pirates making sad attempts to climb back on deck but with the wood all slick and wet, they couldn't. You dared to take a peek out the porthole next to you. The waters surrounding the ship were an absolute bloodbath of human flotsam. Seeing bits of human remains floating above the tides sent your stomach churning.

"Oh...oh god...fuck...sorry Baji...ye were right...." You whimpered.

The boards above you creaked when you heard the scuffing of boots. You felt a cramp in your leg and went to stretch it out, only to knock over a bottle someone had left on a crate.

Fuck

"Shh, Rindou. Did you hear?"

"Hmm, what?"

"We have a straggler."

"Oh?" Rindou sniffs the air, noticing a scent below deck. "I smell something, something good." He snickers.

Ran sniffs as they move below deck. "Doth mine nose deceive me or is there a wee lass on board? Oh lass! Lassie! Come on out."

"Nothing to fear. We won't hurt ye."

Their footsteps drew closer. You clasped your hands over your mouth, attempting to slow your breathing and prevent a sound to leave your throat. However, you knew they'd inevitably find you if they truly are sirens.

The crates were moved in front of you and you squeaked, kicking your feet on the floor to gather purchase to scoot away from them.

"Ah, such a pretty thing ye are lass," Ran sneared, crouching down to meet your level as he grasped your chin with his long, thin fingers.

"Yes, such beauty ye have. We couldn't possibly eat ye except a few nibbles." Rindou laughed.

"No...nononono!!! Let me go! Please!!!" You cried but it was no use. Ran had already hoisted you over his shoulders while you pounded your fists on his back and kicking your feet around, screaming in his ear.

"Haha! So feisty. Oh, how much fun ye'll be tonight." Ran chuckled as you struggled in his hold.

They brought you on deck, Ran still holding you close. You gave up on punching his back, catching your breath when you noticed he was taking you to the plank. "No! No, please! Don't!"

Rindou followed behind and snickered at you. "Aww, is the wee lass scared of sleeping with the fishes?"

"Hush, Rin-Rin. Don't scare the lass too much, yeah?"

He sighed and crossed his arms, "fiiiine."

"Now then lass, ye ready to be a changed woman tonight? Promise, we'll protect ye."

You furrowed your brows at the sickening sweet words leaving his velvety soft lips...wait...velvety soft? When you came to, his lips were pressed to yours as you both fell into the sea below.

"Mmm...MMMMM!" You screamed behind your lips as Ran laughed, taking you into an underwater cave surrounded with sunken ships and treasure. "Oh, darling. Doth thee know the kiss of a siren protects ye from drowning?"

Rindou then pressed his lips to yours for a taste himself. "No need to fret lass, we'll take good care of ye."

"Yes, the perfect vessel for our offspring, no?"

Your eyes became saucers as you lost consciousness.

Once you awoke, you were placed on a soft bed of silken sheets fit for a queen, stripped of everything you were wearing. "Where—"

Slender fingers were placed on your lips. "Shhhh, don't say a word darling." Ran whispered and licked the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your breath hitched. "Ye'll be safe here. No one will harm a hair on ye," Rindou smiled with his violet eyes darkened with lust. He licked his lips and began kissing up your neck, making you gasp as you fell under their spell. "Mmm, ready to be a mother, lass?"

"To be ours....

.......forever?"

Under the haze of honeyed voices reaching your ears, you whispered a soft yes.

"Then, we're yours forever, darling."

"And you're ours."

[ckret2]

3rd times the charm (writing this i lost what i wrote 2 times already) questions/related for/to goldilocks bill 

1 is mabel adhd and or some neurodivergent cuz of hw/grade thoughts/feeling /comments made/referenced and was this me being delusional/implied and will only be implied in the story/foreshadow something or just 

2 can bill hid his cycle long term and who restocks mables pads cuz if its her what does she think of a huge chunk going missing and if not how long and with mable in ca and melody maybe moving out what would he do what are his thoughts on having to ask for menstrual products like asking would be humiliating on a scale of 1 to 10 who would he ask most to least likely what beliefs/knowledge/feeling do the other characters have on periods 

3 would he have any thoughts/preference on different menstrual products like pads/tampons/cups/other items i don't know or it the theme/art the only difference 

4 sorry if this is gross (S&P would never approve) but would bill if he had period blood at the time gone for round 3 of battle of hygiene used the period blood like his stink and the sink incident as bargaining/negotiations chips for something cuz i hate how messy period blood is in my experience and just experience with so many peoiple being so repulsed by it (would he possibly think its funny like blood haha and the blood clots like slipe)

5 why did he get one so soon like his body is 2 weeks old ( i think i'm bad with time(time is and illusion anyway)) but anxiety, depression, sudden weight loss/gain, being under/over weight, extreme exercise, and poor nutrition are some of the relevant things that can make you miss your period and bills got oodles of poor nutrition depression anxiety and maybe (going on only sooses comment so far) sudden weight loss (for me just eating 2 to 1 meals (1 school lunch the other fast food) a day for a long time meant i didn't get a period for like 6 months) but is it the fact it's so new and axolotl set to easy thats he got one (also i don't mean to be rude i have no knowledge of what you do/dont know about periods and stuff)

6 for the kryptos gang Maybe when the accident happens bill rips holes in the dimension of accident and only they are lucky/unlucky enough to fall and get translated though not knowing it was bill and not in bills view/doesn't know/thinks that killed them? And end up stranded in an extremely unknown place worried about the shit going down in the dimension and latter get rumors it was destroyed and they grieve But that way bill is  alone in the aftermath and people spread no survivors present and these shapes are standed  he meets/collects them that way he can promise them something better would them not knowing erase or amplify the guilt or would them know bill did it make more sense sorry if this is bad i know that i don't articulate myself well disclaimer i have not read the book of bill (im :,( broke rn).i have seen some of the website but would this work with cannon and your story i also don't know how the dimension stuff would go would they up or down a dimension maybe the axolotl translated them cuz reason idk or bill accidently did it when the holes ripped open

god that's a lot of text to lose twice I'm so sorry lmao

1. Yes, I write Mabel as ADHD. I don't know if it will ever be directly stated in the fic, primarily because I doubt she's gonna get a diagnosis; but I'm drawing on the experiences of family, friends, & myself to write her.

2. Mabel thinks "hmmm... I used those a lot faster than I expected... but I've been using these less than a year, maybe I just don't have a good sense of how fast I use them yet."

Bill wouldn't consider asking for them any more or less humiliating than having to ask his captors for food access, shower access, or sunlight access. He has no taboos or shame associated with bleeding out of a hole for most of a week, being ashamed of that is a human cultural thing; but he is consistently humiliated by needing to ask his captors to please let him have the basic resources he needs for his stupid body maintenance.

But remember he just got a room with a fridge and permission from Soos to stick whatever he wants on the household grocery list. He doesn't need to specifically ask his captors for period supplies. He can just... put it on the grocery list. Now it's Soos's problem. Maybe Abuelita's, I feel like she might prefer to do the shopping if it's not too strenuous for her yet.

3. Tampons can kill you so Bill thinks humans are pretty dumb to use them. He doesn't much care beyond that. He's used exactly one product.

4. I can't think of a reason he wouldn't but I'm not interested in exploring weaponized hygiene more than I already have.

5. He's been in his body over five weeks. He got the one period he's had so far almost 4 weeks in, giving him a cycle only slightly longer than average. (Even if he HAD gotten one two weeks in—how do you know his body wasn't just created already halfway through a cycle?) He's had a shit month but he started off in good enough health for it not to immediately matter and the shittiest most physically & mentally grueling part of the month (the eclipse + execution) came after he'd bled.

6. begs a lot of questions—"how" "why them" "where were they" "why didn't Bill find out sooner" "why DID he find out". Doesn't feel airtight enough to me. Plus, I already know EXACTLY how Bill's dimension is destroyed, and random rips in the dimension aren't part of it.

[ahkylous]

Drifting Stars Masterlist Ⅱ

I never thought there would be a part two of this solely because of the limited number of fanfictions there actually are for this au. Yet here we are, four months later and somehow able to make this post. Same rules apply; general order of favourites, you are all entitled to your own opinion, add any I may have missed, and that's kinda it.

Onward!

Disconnected by DarrowWyrlde - 4th part of a series, 2 028 words, 2/13

Ok so this one probably should not be in this post at all since it's not drifting stars and more of a lost legends fic. I only put this one here because it's still about Mabel in the multiverse and who knows, maybe that's why you read drifting stars. I don't have much else to say, just thought I'd put it here.

Drift Away by GravityUniverse115 - oneshot, 1 174 words, 1/1

This one was written well despite it being fairly short, the only catch being that it - again - is not entirely drifting stars. It is about Mabel going through the portal, but it is written more as a concept in comparison to a typical oneshot. If someone did write a fic based off of this tho I would definitely read it.

The Drifting Star by Booblybaba - standalone, 35 337 words, 15/?

This was your typical drifting stars fic, I don't have too much else to say except that it was good and that it ends just as I was getting into it. It was a bit fast paced but again, not bad.

Into the Unknown by MintGreenMare - standalone, 31 681 words, 22/22

Finished and Drifting Stars does not go in the same sentence, and yet this fic exists. Fully complete, 100% resolved. It only took like 9 years for someone to actually finish writing one of these. It did take me a bit to get into it compared to other stuff I've read, mostly because it feels more like a collection of oneshots as opposed to a whole fic, but I did still enjoy it.

Ad Astra by Queen_Mab - standalone, 103 406 words, 18/?

So many people go crazy for this fic and I kinda get why, the worldbuilding is done really well and the stuff going on back in Gravity Falls is a lot more interesting than just Dipper and Stan rebuilding the portal. The only setback for me is that it feels unrealistic and was almost pushed too far in some aspects. But again, I get the appeal and do wanna see what would happen next.

Save That Light by Mezzorellasticks - standalone, 11 293 words, 5/?

I'm surprised there aren't more fic's with some of the concepts in this one. I won't spoil it but I could see this happening to Mabel more than once and yet no one has written about it. Some parts felt a little off in terms of character but overall it was pretty cool.

A Familiar Face by Missintroverted - 1st part of a series, 2 350 words, 1/1

This is another fic that's not entirely drifting stars but at the same time kinda is. Instead of Mabel being fully related to Ford, it's another version of her but older (possibly a relativity + reverse portal version). I thought it interesting and I enjoyed the interaction between the two.

Among The Stars by Maviiigirl - standalone, 4 603 words, 2/?

This fic follows the typical outline so far; Mabel falling through the portal, Ford being an awkward dumbass, the two figuring out what's going on before any proper multiverse madness occurs. But the way it was written was really good, that and the fact that this author also wrote a very good oneshot which gives me hope for the future of this fic.

A Little Help by Maviiigirl - oneshot, 3 130 words, 1/1

I thought this oneshot was so cool. Mabel being all responsible while internally panicking and Ford being delusional was actually so funny to me. Some parts were a little quick but overall I thought it was really well done. I kinda wanna see it be continued just to see what Ford would say when he woke up tho.

That's mostly it, if I were to compare the two list's I'd say the quality of the fics from the other one are far better, but these one's are a lot more recent meaning there is hope that some of them will be continued.

I didn't mean to insult any of these, I find my main problem with fanfiction is the way the characters are written and the way characters bond, especially since many are rushed and often there isn't enough time allowed for certain emotions to properly form before diving straight into hurt/comfort. I understand tho, I struggle with that a lot in my writing too.

Anyway, here's the first masterlist if you wanna look at those too :))

[earlgreytea68]

hi egt

what fob songs scream hiatus to you?

i need to experience emotional ruin real quick

God, there are so many, like, basically allll of Save Rock and Roll feels like them working through the hiatus together (not least because of how it has a higher percentage of Patrick lyrics than usual, probably because of him coming off his solo work). But the hiatus loomed so large for them as this nuclear blast in their relationship, it seems to bleed all through Pete's words (and hence their songs) for years afterward.

And it actually even starts before the hiatus, with the "What a Catch, Donnie" music video, which is the most hiatus-y thing to ever hiatus, Pete going down with his ship while he sends everyone else away to party without him. IT'S ALL SO SYMBOLIC.

And then to title a song on the first Believers Never Die album "From Now On, We Are Enemies." WHAT THE HELL hahahahaha WHAT A CHOICE, PETE WENTZ. (a downward spiral, just a pirouette and I only what what I can't have -- wanting what you can't have is a total hiatus theme for me that shows up a bunch in Pete's lyrics. I have not done an empirical analysis to see if it's a more prevalent theme after the hiatus or not.)

"The Phoenix" has obvious symbolism for their life as a band, raising their career from the ashes, changing themselves up like a remix, wearing their vintage of misery better than everyone else. Also, I love the imagery it has of peace, the "release the doves, surrender love" bit. Waving the white flag and putting down your weapons (in contrast to put on your war paint). But I've always kind of felt like surrender love is one of Pete's deliberate ambiguities: It could be "surrender your love" but it could also be "surrender, love." And Pete doesn't often use "love" as a term of endearment in his lyrics but he called Patrick "love" on stage not too long ago, so, you know, it seems not too outside the realm of possibility to think that these are really lines about reconciliation. It feels like time is running out, so let's surrender and hold tight.

Then there's "Alone Together": I'm outside the door, invite me in so we can go back and play pretend. The image of playing pretend / make-believe with someone also recurs in Pete's poetry, and it's something else I always read as Patrick-coded. Who did he used to "pretend" with for the sake of the shippers? And, of course, starting at the end of the road to ruin sounds like people who have burned everything down but are finding their way back.

I wrote a whole fic about "Where Did the Party Go" :-)

What is there to say about "Miss Missing You" that hasn't already been said? The infamous "hot whiskey eyes" line that honestly can only be about Pete Wentz lol. The imagery of the person you'd take a bullet for being behind the trigger: they have both at separate points in time proclaimed their readiness to take a bullet for the other. The fact that Pete wrote in a poem once before the hiatus I miss you missing me, and this song is I miss missing you. Like, everyone just die over this song.

To me "The Kids Aren't Alright" is a hiatus song in that it's about surviving the hiatus, coming through it, reversing the curse, it's our time now if you want it to be, in the end, I'd do it all again, I think you're my best friend.

"Fourth of July" is another hiatus song for me, the reference to the burned bridges being the light that leads you home is just so hiatus-y. Also, the torture of small talk with someone you used to love just smacks of the hiatus, of how they stopped talking to each other, of how they knew so little about each other and had to start over. This is more wanting what you can't have, too: my favorite what-if, my best I'll-never-know. I said I'd never miss you. I wish I'd known how much you loved me. It's so much, this song lol

Twin Skeleton's: ouch. This song is so painful. This song scrapes over your skin like sandpaper. This song is so angry and bitter. This song is I need a new partner in crime and you shrug. oh my GOD that line kills me every single time. That one and the way Patrick snarls, I could just die laughing on your spiral of shame. This is an angry song, but the anger is born of a depth of emotion and it ends with Patrick promising hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on over and over, and that's what makes it extra-hiatus to me, like, hold on, it all gets better, I'm coming back, hold on, hold on, hold on...

I find the hiatus infects their songs less and less the farther they get away from it, which is good. It's healing. As we've discussed, they've almost forgotten the whole thing even happened, it's been blurred over by the sands of time.