#man fanfics got weird

[dystopian-reverie]

*laughs hysterically*

what do you mean I actually have to write something when I sit down to write?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN that I have to write if I call myself a writer?????

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Sotsu Ending Fanfic Thing I Guess

Woke up on Friday feeling depressed over all the loose ends from the Sotsu finale, so I wrote a silly epilogue to Sotsu / possible prologue for my fanfic. 

If you’re also feeling down and enjoy the witches, maybe you’ll like this too?

Deep within the Sea of Fragments…

The eternal witch known as Frederica Bernkastel had already attended St Lucia in a previous Fragment. So it wasn’t long before she tired of navigating the dull rules and fawning students again and took her leave of the final Rika.

It had taken significantly longer (but who was counting, in this infinite world between worlds?) to track down Hanyuu and get a satisfying explanation for what had just happened.

But even then, something didn’t quite sit right with Bernkastel. Granted, she was rather paranoid. Spending most of one’s existence getting repeatedly killed by one’s closest friends did that to a girl. So when Hanyuu assured her that this “Eua” entity wouldn’t meddle further, she insisted on inspecting the evidence with her own eyes. 

Unfortunately, even after scouring the depths of the Sea, the most she turned up were the traces of the divine battle.

(At least, she assumed that’s what the wreckage of furniture bits and rubble was. The debris floating around the area sure wasn’t as thick the last time she’d checked.)

But eventually, she did come across the ruins of a plush, gaudy bed. The frame was askew and the edges of the pink sheets were torn, but it was still intact enough that the translucent curtains could be and were drawn. Not only that, but behind them, a dark silhouette was hunched over. Almost like she knew someone would be looking for her, and so was cowering away in her hiding spot.

A cruel smirk twitched at the corners of the witch’s mouth. She’d found her prey. Finally.

She still had many, many questions to ask, after all. Questions like “which three fingernails would you like to keep?” And also “would you like to watch my ritual dance again? From the point of view of the futon?”

Hopefully, the goddess’s throat wouldn’t give out from screaming before Bernkastel was finished playing with her. Otherwise she might not actually get answers to her more boring questions regarding the goddess’s relationship with Hanyuu.

Anyway.

“So, we finally meet in person, Eu-” Bernkastel ripped the curtain aside with vicious glee. “-huh?”

Instead of a tiny but smug goddess, the girl huddled on top of the bed was blonde. And curled up in a cozy orange hoodie.

Bernkastel’s sneer dropped to a confused scowl at the sight of her friend. “What are you doing moping around here? Didn’t you say you were going to chase after me?” Ugh. Now they’d have to start the chase all over.

Satoko didn’t reply, so Bernkastel tilted her head and watched her for a while.

…She still didn’t understand the “why,” but “what” the other witch was doing was fairly obvious. She was rubbing her eyes and trying to kludge together a handful of broken Fragments. Even though they obviously didn’t fit together. Indeed, some of the pieces didn’t even look like they were from this sector of the Sea at all. 

And she was doing a pretty poor job of it too, Bernkastel thought, given that she’d resorted to holding the mismatched ensemble together with literal band-aids and scotch tape.

Typical. That girl couldn’t even be trusted to clean up her own mess without help.

Bernkastel kicked off her shoes, tossed her St Lucia jacket on a splintered post of the bed frame, and pounced onto the bed.

“Satoko!”

No response. Hm.

She pitched her voice back up to Rika’s cheerful tone. “Satoko~?” 

Still no response.

Tch. Bernkastel disliked many things, and being ignored ranked quite highly on the list.  

What was so absorbing about a random Fragment anyway? She stealthily came up behind Satoko as the witch was delicately attempting to insert a shard into place. There she waited, then butted her head into her friend’s shoulder at the most aggravating moment possible.

Crack! Crystal ground against crystal, and the small piece shattered in the other witch’s hands. 

“Satoko,” Bernkastel repeated in her coldest voice.

“Wha-“  Her friend looked up from the Fragment, eyes wide with... surprise? ...Guilt? But when she saw who her visitor was, she pasted a grin back on her face and sniffed arrogantly. “Ohohoho~! Don’t bother calling me by that name anymore! I already gave it back to its true owner!”

Yet even before she was finished talking, the energy was fading from her voice. Her expression, too, had gone back to the blank, listless one she had been wearing before.

Bernkastel gathered some cushions around herself. “Then what am I supposed to call you now?”

“I don’t know.” The witch formerly known as Satoko shrugged apathetically. “I guess I’ll have to think of something for the next time we meet.”

“It better be something I can pronounce. Since I’ll likely be shouting it at you eventually.”

“You’re one to talk, Rika.” The nameless witch glanced to the side at her, then down again. “Or rather, it’s Ms. Fancy Foreign Name here, isn’t it?”

“…Bern.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just Bern is fine if you can’t say the rest of it.”

“Oh?” A wan smile briefly lit her friend’s face. “How about Fred-Fred? Or Cassie? Or Eri-mmph!”

The two tumbled around on the bed as Bernkastel attempted to suffocate her friend with a pillow. 

“Alternatively, I’m going to retrieve the Onigari no Ryuuou just so I can cut your tongue out. That would solve the problem quite elegantly.”

The nameless witch giggled and smiled a bit more genuinely at that. And Bernkastel put down the pillow. For now.

“Okay, Bern.” Her friend rolled the name around her tongue. “Sure. It’s cute enough. I like it.”

“Good.” Bernkastel gently lifted the other witch’s chin. “Now, what can you possibly be looking at that’s more interesting than me?”

“Oh, this?” The nameless witch dismissively tossed the Fragment cluster up and over her shoulder. “Catch.”

Bernkastel reached out, and the Franken-Fragment halted in it’s arc, then drifted toward her palm in a lazy spiral. Once she held it in her hands, she twisted it back and forth in examination. 

...It really was a pitiful mess. Entire facets were chipped and dull, or had other bits of crystal haphazardly jammed into the cracks. There were patches of gummy residue where her friend had clearly peeled off a band-aid when she’d changed her mind about what she was doing. And the whole thing smelled cloyingly sweet, like she’d thought dipping it in liquid cotton candy would somehow improve the situation.

As for the shifting scenes inside…

“...I don’t remember this. One of yours?”

“My first loop. Sort of. I changed some details in between the lines.” The nameless witch clenched at the sheet by her sides. “Screwed it up worse now, probably.”

“Why?”

“I just…” She let go of the sheet to hug her knees. “I just wanted to look at some happy Fragments. After. You know.”

“Heartlessly murdering all our friends?”

“Yeah.” She buried her head down.

“You going to try to fix all those Fragments too?”

“Maybe.” she muttered into her knees. “If I can find them.”

“Have fun with that.” 

“Aw, thanks.” 

“I was being serious.” Bernkastel raised an eyebrow. “It’s none of my business if you want to while away eternity with futile projects. No matter how many you fix, I can bring you another hundred more where they die horribly.”

“Hypocrite. You still did the same thing for Takano.”

“Not exactly.” She’d watched that too? Interesting. “Regardless, it’s not like the humans will ever thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for them, I’m doing it for me.”

“If you say so.” Bernkastel languidly stretched out over the pillows. “So what about the worlds where you offed yourself in front of me and left me traumatized for life?”

“Hmph! Those ones you’ll just have to deal with.” The witch that was once Satoko turned away and pouted, just like she did when she was human. “Look, even if I was being a total idiot, I’m still mad that I lost, alright?”

“…I took a peek at a few of those, actually.” Bernkastel stared up at the shredded canopy above.  “I don’t even go to St Lucia in them. Seems I can’t bear to leave Hinamizawa when my memories there are all I have left of you.”

“Figures.” There it was again. The bitter edge to her friend’s voice was new. That, and she’d toned down her usual haughty mannerisms. “The only times I win is if I can’t stick around to enjoy it.”

“Isn’t it fun, being a witch?”

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s great. I keep finding more and more things to love about it.” 

She sounded a lot more sarcastic this time. Perhaps her power high really was wearing off, now that she’d been left with only her thoughts for company for a while.

...She really did get lonely easily...

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” If she hadn’t already done so in the past, Bernkastel pondered. Or the future?

Hanyuu had said some rather disconcerting things about the origins of her friend’s… consciousness? Bernkastel didn’t really get it, but that was just par for the course with her goddess sometimes. It would just give her a headache if she thought about it too much.

“…So? What did you think?” the other witch asked with feigned carelessness.

“Of the Fragment?” Bernkastel pretended not to understand. “It’s a true miracle. You managed to produce something that would even have failed Chie’s Arts and Crafts day.”

The nameless witch gave her a withering glare.

“Oh, was I supposed to watch the whole thing?”

Her friend lost her nerve and reached forward to take the Fragment back.  “N-nevermind.”

“Too late.” Bernkastel batted aside the grasping hand and and teasingly held the Fragment out of reach. “You gave it away, so it’s mine now.”

“H-hey! Give it back! I’m still working on it!” Even as a witch, the girl was still incredibly cute when she was flustered.

“You can have it back when I’m done.” Bernkastel held the Fragment to her chest and pushed her friend’s head back as she impotently flailed her arms. “I’m curious now.”

“Fiiiine.” The other witch gave up and flopped down onto her stomach. “But don’t expect too much, okay? Unlike you, I’m no poetic genius.”

“Mmhm.” Bernkastel had already settled further into the mass of blankets and was busy conjuring the sensation of a glass of her favorite wine.

“In fact, it’s certainly going to be rea~lly stupid, just like me! So don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But her warning fell on deaf ears as Bernkastel took a sip of wine and lost herself within the glittering depths of the Fragment.

[listentothelittlebird]

I was looking through some drafts and I found this - I think it’s my first attempt at writing Burning Iceberg. Here, Damian tagged along with Jason when he went off for training!

Word Count: 2942 words 

enjoy!

It’s Talia who sends him away.

“Training,” she says, but there is something in the way that she moves, the way that the base is silent and waiting with bated breath right up until they leave. 

Jason leaves alone. Talia watches him go, her posture too unnaturally relaxed for anything not to be amiss. 

He gets one day away from the base before he realises he has a tail.

“Damian?” 

The young boy scuffles out of the shadows with a haughty sniff. “Took you long enough to notice me, Todd,” he huffs. Given the boy’s night clothing - the one’s he wore to sleep - Jason guessed that he had just arrived.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, curious. Sure, he had talked to the kid, had trained with the kid, but why was he here?

Damian glanced at Jason, then glanced away. “You were going alone,” he declared stiffly, “I would think that you would prefer company.”

“Mother agreed, and sent me after you,” Damian added, not at all convincing. Talia would never allow Damian out of her sights, especially with the tension in the air back at the base. Something was definitely up, but Jason let it slide and gestured for Damian to come closer. “You hungry, kid? I’ve got enough food for both of us until the next village.”

He knows that Talia might come after him. There’s no way he would let Damian disappear, just like that. For the moment, however, Jason could care less.

He had never asked for a big brother, and he had never asked for a little brother, but he was definitely willing to risk his life for the eight-year-old beside him. 

-

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, quietly. They’re stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the South Pole.

“I want to find a bender,” Jason replies, “The North pole is more connected to the world, and there’s more people to worry about. I’d think that a bender would hide in the South, where there’s less people.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Your skills are not adequate to face a bender, Todd.”

Jason pauses, then snorts, “I’m not gonna fight the bender, D. I just want to… talk to them.”

Damian eyes him with a skeptical look, but otherwise says nothing.

-

They’re riding through a brutal storm when Damian loses his grip and tumbles towards the railing.

Jason follows, one hand gripping tightly onto the metal rail and the other holding onto Damian as he flailed. For once, the kid looked genuinely terrified.

A wave crashes into them, and pulls them over. 

-

Jason is surprised to wake up. He tried to gauge his surroundings, but nothing really added up. He was under a fur blanket, a fire crackling near him. Someone was shifting beside him.

“You’re awake,” the voice murmurs, “I thought you’d sleep longer, but it seems not.”

Jason, carefully pulled himself up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed around the igloo. It was sparse, but large enough to fit him, the new man, and-

“Dami,” Jason breathed, headless of the man’s presence as he jerked out of the furs and toward

 his brother’s still form. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, and his heart only calmed when he could feel the steady thrumming for a full minute.

“You’re welcome,” came the dry remark. Right. Jason turned back to the man, assessing him silently. He wore a blue parka, and was currently wearing the hood low over his face. 

“The two of you washed ashore last night,” the man explained, without prompting, “Your friend was barely breathing, but he made it through. You were surprisingly fine once the threat of frostbite was removed.”

Jason glanced again at Damian. 

“Thank you,” Jason stated, before his voice hardened, “But can we trust you?”

The man sighed. “Figures that two kids running around in the Antarctic wouldn’t trust a stranger,” he mused to himself. His amused smile was the only thing that Jason could see, the fire and the shadows obscuring the rest. 

“We are a long distance from the nearest village, but I can take you there. I can send the two of you on your way the moment that your friend feels better.”

-

“You know that you’re safe here, right?” Jason stated quietly. Anuk had left them in the igloo and went hunting by himself. He claimed that he worked better alone.

Damian looked up from where he was curled up in a corner of the igloo, his back pressed tightly against the icy wall. He wrinkled his nose, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jason sighed.

“Look, if this guy meant bad, he’d have done something already,” Jason reasoned, spreading his hands along the icy ground. He was glad that his resistance to low temperatures had survived the pit, even if his bending had not.

“Your trust will get you killed,” Damian murmured. Jason winced, “Yeah, well, it kinda already did. But that’s besides the point,” Jason rushed to add, “Just- trust is dangerous, sure, but can you really live your life without trusting anyone?”

Damian was silent. Jason, taking a dive, spoke up, “Do you trust me?”

Damian jerked his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

Jason nodded, and pressed, “Talia? Ra’s?”

Damian hesitated. Jason moved on.

“Listen. I know you just wanted to tag along for my training, but we’ve been under the radar for at least a month.” They had arrived on a full moon, and that night was a full moon, again. 

“Even Talia would have to admit to Ra’s that she thought we were dead somewhere in the Antarctic. Firebenders hate the two poles - they won’t be sending a search party for us, much less coming to find us themselves. You don’t have to go back to them.”

This time, Damian glared. “Where else would I go, Todd?” he spat, and Jason realised that the kid had already thought of this, had already considered this, “Where else am I supposed to go, if I do not return to my home?”

Jason pursed his lips, and despite the green raging inside him…

“Bruce would take you in,” Jason admitted, shoving the green away, “I can’t say the same for myself, not when I’m done with him, but… you. You’re his kid. He’d definitely take you in.”

Jason grinned, “He’d love you. Hell, he already took in the Replacement, what’s one more?”

Damian shifted. “Why won’t he take you in?” he questioned.

Jason stilled. “It’s not-” Jason started and stopped, and shook his head. The Joker was still alive. He had adopted a new kid. He wasn’t needed, hell, he wasn’t wanted. He really had just been a charity case. He breathed, trying to push the green down.

“It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can forgive Bruce, and I don’t know if I can stare at him without wanting to put a knife to his neck.”

That was what scared him the most. That he would lose control. He hated Bruce right now, hated him for what he had done, what he had not done, but his nightmare was his vision going green and fading to a Batman bleeding out from a knife in his grip.

Damian looked confused, so Jason tried to explain. “Bruce is… not a perfect man,” Jason sighed, “But he’s all Gotham has. And the Robins - what he does for them, that’s good. Even if-” Even if it gave him false hope for a rescue that never came. He swallowed that down.

“For all of his faults, he did give me some of the best memories.” Not that he remembered many of them. The pit took that away, too. “I hate him, but I loved him, too.”

-

“You’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at Anuk. “Ready for?”

“The full moon,” Anuk explained, not really explaining at all. He pointed towards the sky. “Tonight should be a full moon. We’ll set out onto the ocean at midnight, and you can perform the traditional water-bending stances for Tui and La. If nothing else, it is a tradition that I practice, and as my student, I want you to practice it as well.”

Jason sighed, but went along with it. He still had no bending - sometimes he thought that the water would move just so, but most of the time, there was nothing. He diligently learnt all of the water-bending moves, but Anuk was probably lying when he said that he was “ready”. How do you tell if someone knows their stuff if they don’t even bend?

-

The night was quiet. Serene, silent in the way that Gotham never was. The League had been silent, too, but not in this way. There was tension in the air, in League bases, sounds controlled and quenched before they could travel. Here, there were only expanses of snow and ice to echo back each scrunch of their boots.

Anuk bended a gondola made of ice, and Jason hopped on, not willing to show his own hesitation. Anuk waved his arms and the gondola moved out onto the calm Antarctic sea.

“According to my Gramps, we used to have big ceremonies on full moons,” Anuk started conversationally, filling the cold silence with soft murmurs. Jason realised belatedly that they should have brought a lamp, or at least a torchlight, but it seemed like Anuk knew where he was going, even in the dim moonlight.

“I live in the South pole, but my Gramps hailed from the North. He says that the late princess Yue gave her life to keep the moon spirit, Tui, alive. The Northern water-benders would present their bending on full moons to pay homage to Yue and her sacrifice.”

The gondola slowed to a stop, and they were left bobbing softly on near-silent waves. Anuk stretched his arms out and pulled, and a square platform of ice froze before them. Anuk stepped back and looked towards Jason expectantly.

Jason had grown used to the icy tundra, enough so that he did not immediately slip off the icy block when he hopped out of the gondola. He took his place at the centre of the ice block, glanced up at the moon, and started to run through his bending forms.

Nothing happened at first. Jason felt kind of stupid, actually, bending without bending at all. He nearly slipped a few times, but he managed to keep his balance, and powered through the basic forms into the more advanced attacks.

Then, something shifted.

“Jason,” the wind whispered, and Jason stumbled. His foot slipped, and he ended up on all four as the ice block rocked, waves pushing over the sides and washing over his hands and knees. The voice sounded like Bruce.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” came again, and it really did sound like Bruce. Jason blinked into the moonlit ice and nearly gasped. 

It was a bird’s-eye view of the Batcave. He would know that cavern anywhere. Batman was stooped down beside a glass casing, positioned at the centre of the cave.

The vision zoomed in. The casing had a blood-stained Robin uniform, burned and tattered, way too destroyed to be repairable. Jason realised it was his suit. The one he had died in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Bruce was saying, and Jason could only watch as Bruce absolutely bawled his eyes out in front of the casing, still wearing his batsuit, only having pulled the cowl down.

Just when the sobs died down, Jason heard, “I left Joker in the helicopter. I knew it was going to crash, but I- I thought he didn’t deserve to live,” Bruce admitted quietly. Jason’s breath hitched.

“He survived. Of course he did. If I keep going after him, he’ll just keep surviving, and… I have to stop, before I can’t. Before I lose myself in a world that took you. I’m sorry,” he choked out, and the tears continued to flow.

The scene changed.

“Why?” Dick’s voice screamed, raw and so full of emotion that it jarred Jason to the bones. “Why did you let him live?”

“We can’t be the dictators of who lives and who dies,” Bruce started, but Dick cut him off. “This is the Joker we’re talking about, B!” Dick yelled, somehow louder than the previous shout, “Joker doesn’t care who lives and who dies! He definitely didn’t care when he-” Dick cut himself off with a sharp exhale.

Bruce waited as Dick took measured breaths. “I just don’t get it,” Dick whispered, “A man like him? B, why did you save him?”

Silence. 

“We fight for justice,” Bruce rumbled, steadfast and sure compared to the crying mess in the last vision. Confident, like he had worked through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. “We can’t just kill people as we see fit. Not even if we hold a personal grudge. Not even if we want revenge for our own.” 

They both glanced towards the casing.

“I still want to kill him,” Dick stated bluntly. Jason thought Bruce would reaffirm his rules, that he would cook up a convincing argument and strike down Dick’s motives.

Instead, Bruce only answered with, “Sit on it for a few days. Don’t make an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”

Dick sighed harshly, and left the viewing range of the vision. Bruce turned back to the casing.

“I never got to apologise to you,” Bruce murmured, “For accusing you of pushing Garzonasa.”

“I was worried for you. Nobody should have to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life. I’m sorry if I came off as distrustful. I should have done more. Been better.”

One last scene. A young kid, black hair and blue eyes, looking up at the casing, fiddling with a new Robin suit that Jason had only seen through grainy newspaper prints.

“You were my hero,” the boy said, and checked his empty surroundings before he continued, “You were… awesome. You had so much energy and spunk, and-” he huffed, a small smile on his face, “-much more fire than me. Which is ironic, to say the least.”

Jason watched as the kid produced a photo from his gauntlet. It was a photo of Jason and Nightwing, on the rooftops, laughing and joking around. 

“I always wanted to be your friend,” he admitted, “I never wanted to replace you. I just knew that Batman needed a partner, and I guess nobody else was gonna do it, so. Here I am.”

The photo slipped back under his cape. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like you, but I’m trying. I… I know I shouldn’t miss you, because technically I never knew you, but. I do.”

Timothy Drake looked up at the suit for a long minute, before turning and pressing his domino mask across his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he whispered to the air.

The vision disappeared with the pull of the tide. Jason was suddenly aware of the ice block he was still on, as it tipped against the slightly-larger wave. A combination of water and ice made him slide right off the block’s edge. 

Anuk’s yell was drowned out by the freezing water rushing to meet him. It was the very opposite of being dipped into the Lazarus pit. The water was a dark blue, and he could still see the moonlight piercing through the water’s surface. The light bent above him, and he blinked, because it almost looked like a face. A young woman, with long white hair flowing around her serene smile.

The light pulsed, and suddenly he could feel the water around him, moving and flowing, pulsating with its own energy. He could feel the water turning and churning around Anuk’s gondola as he steered towards him. He spread out his arms and pushed-

-and shot out of the water, landing with a slight stumble back on Anuk’s gondola. The boat rocked slightly, but Jason smoothed his palms downwards and the rippling waves ceased.

 “Tui and La,” Anuk cursed to himself, “You were under there for quite a- oh.”

Jason tilted his head. “Oh?” he prompted, still reeling from how alive he felt. He was surrounded by his element, and he almost wanted to dive back under just to soak in his renewed bending.

Anuk produced an ice mirror, angling it to catch the moonlight. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely a patch of hair that was no longer black, dangling right in front of his eyes.

His eyes were blue, like the colour he was born with.

“Yue’s blessing,” Anuk breathed. “What?” Jason questioned, looking up from where he was scrutinising his new hairstyle. Anuk had his head tilted reverently towards the moon.

“Princess Yue lived because Tui gave her life,” Anuk recounted, “Her hair was a stark white because of this. When Tui’s mortal form was killed, Yue gave back her lifeforce to revive Tui.” Anuk chuckled, “It’s why most people from the poles don’t bother dyeing their hair.”

Jason himself eyed the moon contemplatively. He closed his eyes, and realised with a start that the green was gone. The pit’s effects - the murderous rage, the unnaturally-green eyes, the blockage of his bending - they were gone.

Anuk had taught him a traditional bow used to start and end water-bending fights, a sign of respect for the opponent. Jason bowed towards the moon, and hoped he was doing it right.

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly, “Yue, Tui, whatever you prefer to be called. Thank you.”

The moon shone on the ocean, and he swore he could see Yue’s face once more, smiling.

[astrandofgold]

The Loneliest Feeling

So I wrote this in April, shortly after I completed the game. I was distraught at the ending, to say the least. It’s grim, and vaguely SamHiggs. Will I ever write a follow up? We’ll see.

____________________________________

Black and white. That was reality. That’s all there was. On this Beach.

This hell was now the eternal resting place of Higgs.

Time was cyclical, reliving the same moment

over

and

over

and

over

and over and ove—

Higgs didn’t know if minutes or centuries that passed since he was in his presence.

Sam. Sam Sam Sam Sam. Sammy. SAM PLEASE

You

are only one

that could save me

His scent taunted Higgs, always just on the cusp of the rain that battered Higgs like shards of glass in a never ending torrent.

my

own

personal

fucking hell

keep walking

keep moving

don’t stop

do not stop

don’t you dare fucking stop

don’t stop walking, Higgs, atta boy

Higgs never stopped walking. He knew that if he stopped, he was a dead man. He couldn’t kill himself while on the Beach, but there was more than one way for a man to perish. The only times he stopped moving were the moments when his lungs burned with the pressure of a rising hopelessness.

I can’t—I can’t breathe— I-

Please, sa—

Gasp.

Gasp.

Gasp.

sam!

Higgs thought about the last moments he had with Sam. Higgs thought about Sam every time he curled up in the sand, sobs shaking his entire body, screams elicited that should have echoed throughout the emptiness, yet clung onto Higgs like a heavy mist. Suffocating. Higgs wrapped his arms tight around himself, like he used to when he was young (it helped when daddy spent the night screaming) the thought of Sam holding him, arms warm, breath warm, lips on his head, lips on his own, glorious warmth— breaking him more.

sam——

They had been within a whisper’s breadth away from each other. Lying on the Beach, hands practically holding each other. So close

Sam, I’m so sorry

Sam, I should have just told you everything

Sam

I’m sorry

Sam

Sam

I love you

...

Sam

Sam’s crystal blue eyes seared through Higgs. They read everything—Everything, Sam? Did you see everything? Did you see all of me? Did you read my journals?

Lips parted, the first time Higgs had seen Sam smile. Thunder cracked in his heart at the sight. The strands of hair, unlike the strands of tar that Higgs knew intimately like the back of his hands, caressed Sam’s face in the breeze of the Beach. Like a halo wrapping around an angel, broken and destroyed by a god that swore vengeance on him for asking too many questions. It was at that moment, lying on the Beach next to Sam, that he realized they were two of a kind—She’s fucking breaking you, Sammy, and I didn’t even know it-god, I’m so fucking sorry

These were the moments that Higgs clung on to, desperate to maintain any form of humanity left that the Beach tried so desperately to wrench from his soul.

Hands clinging to one another. Blood mixing, blood on hands, blood on faces, blood in eyes, blood everywhere. Bodies heaving with strained inhalation. The first (the last?) time Sam and Higgs had been so intimately entwined, their very essences mixing into one. Sam’s blood. Higgs’ blood. Their blood. Higgs had clung onto Sam, heaving, pain radiating until he knew nothing more, but the fire from Sam’s touch that burned with ecstasy remained. That same touch was what Higgs had held onto with a fierce desperation. Anything to help keep him linked to the other side.

Higgs never slept. He couldn’t. Time was meaningless and so was the sanctity of dreaming. His dreams, if he could experience them, would have been filled with shards of red and golden hair, sharp teeth that ripped flesh, that had torn Higgs’ flesh to shreds once—rip me, make me what you want me to be, I’ll do anything for you, worship you

Freezing blue irises that destroyed worlds. Blue that he once craved approval from. Eyes that Higgs saw himself reflected in. Eyes that Higgs found love in, albeit a twisted, one-sided love—I’ll do anything for you, thank you for loving me Amel—

NO

He wanted to claw his eyes out just at the thought of her, and how he could ever feel anything but putrid hatred for her.

Higgs never dared to look behind him. He tried once, twice, one more time. Each time, he saw that flash of red in the distance. Never wavering. Always lingering. It never moved. But he knew.

Fuck, no, please—NO

LEAVE ME ALONE

GOD NO

HAVEN’T YOU DESTROYED

ME ENOUGH??

The one being he never wanted to see again, always mocking him. The one person he never wanted to be apart from, a breath on the wind. Higgs fell to his knees, hands cradling his face. Black lines swirled, dropping to the sand below him. Black tears on black sand, fading into nothingness, the way Higgs felt he was fading into the Beach.

Please, Sammy, please save me

I’ll be waiting for you, Sam....on the Beach

[johannstutt413]

(requested by stephenvares; continuing from this)

Less than a month after returning from their honeymoon, Anya noticed something amiss; the next day, a trip to her primary physician told her what she’d already expected: she was pregnant. This was going to be a massive issue back home, no doubt about it...but honestly? She couldn’t care less - she had the Doctor, and it’s not like the Goddess herself minded. Hell, the Goddess was the first person she told, and She’d seemed pretty happy about it. (That was a fun conversation to tell the Doctor about that night, once he’d calmed down enough to do so.) Time passed, Pyara was born, and life was...life was…

Life was exhausting, for both the Doctor and his beloved bride, for the next few months. Paternity leave saved him from his duties with HR, Personnel, and Tactical Deployment (taken up by at least seven Operators to fill the gap), but not from helping Pramanix sort out the complicated situation back home while she took care of their daughter. Sleepless night after sleepless night, week after week. Anya was crankier than ever, and even the Doctor could feel his nerves fraying.

And then, one day, there was peace.

“...Hey, Anya?” The Doctor scritched behind her ear, trying to wake her up. “Aaaaanya.”

The priestess’s eyes popped open mid-snore. “Hrrrrgh. What?”

“Pyara’s not crying right now.”

“She’s not...She’s not? She’s not?!” She rolled out of bed - quite literally, landing face-first as usual - and flailed onto her feet and towards her child’s crib. “She’s...she’s asleep? But normally she’d be awake right now, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m confused. Did something happen?”

“I don’t- oh, my Goddess.” It wasn’t an exclamation as much as an acknowledgment; like picking up a phone receiver, Pramanix began to commune with the Goddess on the spot.

“Well, that would explain the miracle.” The Doctor chuckled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. As good of terms as he was on with the priestess, interrupting her prayer-time wouldn’t end well for him, no matter how much he wanted his morning kiss. “I’ll make some coffee.”

 A few minutes later, with a pot half-brewed, Anya emerged from their bedroom with Pyara nestled against her. “Little Pi here is old enough to hear the Goddess; She calmed her down for us.”

“Oh, thank the Goddess - literally,” he declared, looking pointedly at his wife’s bell when he said it.

“You know, She doesn’t do favors like this often,” the priestess noted with a smile. “You should do something nice for Her.”

Well, he knew exactly what that really meant, but hell, he could afford to spoil his wife more than a little. “And what would She like me to do for Her this morning?”

“She told me we should have chicken pot pie for dinner tonight.”

“...That’s it?” The Doctor shrugged. “Cool, that was my plan for tonight anyway. We have an anniversary to celebrate, after all.”

Pramanix blinked. “Anniversary? Don’t we still have a couple months for that?”

“For our paperwork and such, yeah. Not for our first date, though.” He winked at her before starting to pour two cups of coffee.

“Oh. I guess it has been a year, huh?” She sighed, landing in a chair at the dining room table for the little one’s breakfast. “Between that and this one, I feel old now...”

A sentiment the Doctor could relate to, honestly. “Time flies when you’re having fun, and I’ve certainly had fun with you~”

“You just wait your turn, mister.” Anya would have swatted him, but he was safely out of range until he brought their coffees to the table.

“I am, I am.” He managed to steal a kiss anyway, thanks to the mugs in his hands. “Your coffee and sugar.”

The priestess wavered between a giggle and a sigh and ended up just giving him a look. “You are so lucky I’m lucky to be here with you.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it - it was all your hard work that got us here.”

“Mmhmm.” She clicked her tongue while shaking her head. “Lying to the clergy.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Did you forget? If you hadn’t worked yourself to exhaustion during those first few months, I never would’ve had a chance to let you sleep on the office couch.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget that. For the first couple of days I was here, I was sleeping in the closet they gave me for an office; I only stopped because Steward came to offer a prayer and found me drooling on my desk.” Not her proudest moment, for sure.

“You’re kidding,” he replied in genuine disbelief. “And I was your first choice after that?”

Anya blushed. “Your office was neutral territory, and...and I already had a crush on you.”

“Really? We didn’t talk much until you started crashing in my office.” Then again, it’d taken him about five minutes to fall in love with her, so-

“It started when you held the door open for me my first day here.” She rushed through the end of the sentence because a certain small creature needed to switch sides.

He took a moment to see if he could remember doing that...nope. “So love at first sight?”

“Basically,” Pramanix admitted. “I saw your face underneath your hood, and that was that.”

“Huh. Maybe that’s why Kal’tsit told me to wear it...”

The Feline giggled. “Because you of all people need a limiter like that...Actually, she’s right. Someone else might’ve gotten to you first if it weren’t for that, after all. I’d thank her, but I think she’s still mad about the night I spilled wine on her.”

“I think she was more mad at Encio than anything that night,” the Doctor replied, vividly remembering that experience. “It’s always the little things, huh?”

“Always the little things.” As Anya said that, Pyara burped.

Her father smirked. “Speaking of. Is she almost done?”

“I think so.” The priestess held her out to him. “Can you take her while I clean up?”

“Absolutely. How’s daddy’s little angel, hmm?” As he took her, the infant began to purr, and the Doctor dashed into the kitchen for the paper towels he’d inevitably need.

Pramanix giggled again. “You’re catching on, huh?”

“One ruined keyboard pad is enough...Hmm. Maybe it was a false alarm.” A few seconds later, and it definitely was not. “Never mind. Do you think our Goddess would mind helping with that, too?”

“One second...Hey, Goddess...Uh-huh...Uh-huh?...Wait, really?...Alright, I’ll tell him. Thanks. She said sure.”

The Doctor’s head poked around from the corner as he continued cleaning up the mess. “I was joking.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” she smiled back. “Speaking of which, put her on her blanket when you’re done.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. We good, little princess?” The response was a wobbly nod, enough for him to walk her into the living room and set her on a blanket.

Payload delivered; Anya filled the Doctor’s empty arms with a warm smile, draping her tail behind his head. “Now you can carry me~”

“We’ll see about that.” He’d earned the playful slap on his shoulder with that comment, but to her surprise, he picked her up in a bridal carry and sauntered over to the couch, where they could watch their personal miracle work on what it meant to crawl. “So...one year, huh? Any regrets?”

“Regrets? Beyond not waking up to your face in the morning earlier? None I can think of.” Now she was the one purring.

He went for their first proper kiss of the morning - the first of many, especially today. “None for me, either. You are, without a doubt, the best thing to happen to me.”

“The absolute best?” The Feline booped his nose with a finger. “Even when I’m cranky?”

“I love my Anya in every mood she comes in.”

“Even when I scratch and bite your hands?”

“Even then.” The Doctor winked at her. “Maybe even a little more, since you remind me this isn’t a dream.”

Her purring was now audible as well as palpable. “Mmm. Would you mind helping this sleepy kitty wake up a little, darling?”

“Gladly.” And at last, it was ‘his turn.’

[leslieseveride]

tim bradford

First impression: i've seen a lot of people say, "i hated bradford at the beginning! he was such a jerk!" and as a tim bradford simp from day one, i just cannot fathom why. he has a heart of gold, and i always knew that he did.

Impression now: he is the most perfect specimen; literally laboratory built. he is everything i want in a man, and can do no wrong in my eyes.

Favorite moment: his speech to angela after he called her in when lucy was abducted. (we love emotionally vulnerable men here).

Idea for a story: i don't have any individual stories of tim, all of the stories i have come up with always involve lucy. <3

Unpopular opinion: hmm.... idk if this opinion is really an "unpopular" one but, isabel. like... her ass is so irrelevant now, what was even the point of her storyline, and her storyline with tim, if they were just going to boot her after the first season?

Favorite relationship: his relationship with lucy, duh. but i also love his relationship with angela, and jackson as well!

Favorite headcanon: i have my own personal headcanon, from when i was writing my chenford pregnancy fic, that his mother passed away of breast cancer when he was 9. but idk, i haven't read many others.

send me a character.

[jrwiyuri]

I think the weirdest interest I have is reading ppg fanfic

[foot-hands]

i miss being obsessed with hp

it was so much simpler idk

[xavintroneep]

This is nothing important really

ᴵ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵈʳᵃʷᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵠᵘᵃʳᵘᶦᵐˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶜᵒᵐᶦᶜ. ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵈʳᵃʷⁿ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃ$$ʰ⁴ᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰ. ᴵ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿ ʰᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵍᵒ, ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳᵉᵈ ᶦᵗ.

[abysskeeper]

Man, it’s always the things you’re proudest of that get no attention.

[thegeminisage]

okay i DIDN’T want to be an asshole but that woman was HOMOPHOBIC which means i’m allowed to shit talk her in public. i’m looking at some of it now and WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?? why was i reading this at age 12! 

[miscellaneous--bones]

just cuz its november doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna Not wear my witch hat, do you know how long it took me to find this fuckin thing?

[immortal-dreamer7]

G for the ask game

G: Do you write your stories from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I had a longer response to this that tumblr apparently deleted (and somehow posted an unfinished draft? Idk, sorry about that).

My fanfic jumps around all over the place. The approach I take is writing the scenes I most want to see, and writing them as a one-shot or stand alone, but with connecting ties to the others.

So what I end up with is a bunch of short stories that, when read in a certain order, form an overarching story.

With deliberately longer stories, I try to write them in order from start to finish. Orherwise, I write what I want to seem

Thanks so much for the ask!

Send me a letter for the fanfic ask game!

[cowboyabunga]

as someone who’s literally been shipped irl that shits extremely uncomfortable and if you do it i’ll find you and break all ur bones

[iamthepulta]

Finally, finally realized why I’ve been having so many problems with Chapter 17. I didn’t know what questions I wanted to answer. I thought they were revolving around what Westlie and Lizzie were doing, because there’s a lot to catch up on, but it wasn’t; we need to find Arthur Faire and see what he knows about... this. And in the meantime the world revolves around them.

Man it feels good for that puzzle piece to click into place.

No, this is the first chapter of the ending arc: Westlie and Lizzie are new people. Morgan is a new person. They need to show it and they need to earn it. Arthur has had a month to work on his plans. What does that look like? What changes has Fairweather undergone? What do Mary and Helen think about that? 

[kii2me2ii2]

I just saw a post that was like "rip stede bonnet you would've loved x & y" and like... you know that guy was like. a real person. like most of the time it's like "not my business" w historical rpf but when you say RIP to an actual dead person who was once alive my brain is going to relate that to the actual dead person. no that old man would NOT have loved those stairs !!!!!