#needless to say the fic was not about that.

[joannasprose]

can you write hcs of ellie williams x nervous reader based on your last fic? i loved it so much ahh

of course I can! thank you so much for the request :)

sorry this kinda turned out a little longer than I expected it to be, but I hope you love it nonetheless! 💜 (I also don’t know if these would count as nervous, she is nervous—but more anxious, distant?)

content warning: hurt/comfort, overthinking, anxiety, anxiousness, bad habits, not proofread, I think that’s it (?)

———

| ellie williams with a nervous!reader, who doesn’t mind speaking for her. Ellie herself isn’t much of a talker—but the two of you are on different spectrums. While Ellie does not go out of her way to talk to people, that doesn’t mean she’s scared. Just awkward, not really surprising. You, on the other hand,, she watches as you just stand nervously to the side, eyes looking everywhere but at the person in from of you. So she’s taken the role of speaking to people when you don’t feel particularly up to it. :)

—

You standthere, arm wrapped around Ellie’s as you watch her conversed in conversation. It’s annoying, really. Feeling as the words get caught up in your throat.

Sometimes, when you watch Ellie talk with people, when you watch her talk for you, you find yourself feeling envious of how easy it comes. Of course, you had known Ellie was awkward—you’d known it since the first day you met her. But she had never been afraid to speak her mind. Unlike you. Who stumbled on words wedged deeply into your anxious mind.

“You okay?” She asks, pulling you out of your dissociative state, and making you focus your attention entirely on her.

You smile as you speak, “I’m fine,” you say, honestly. You sit perched on her lap now, her hand cradles your waist, and she’s looking up to you now. “Okay,” she says hesitantly, “just let me know when you wanna go, okay?” You nod your head in agreement, watching as she turns away, her hand gripping your waist a little tighter to let you know she’s there.

***

You and Ellie lay in bed together, your curled into her and her hand rests on your cheek.

“Y/N, are you okay?” She asks, this time it’s a little more stern than usual. Not harsh. But not soft. You look up to her, watching as her hazel eyes look over all of your features—once again, making you nervous.

“Sometimes I feel like my anxieties is kinda a burden. I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be worried for me all the time.”

You hear Ellie scoff. Laugh, basically.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re nervous or not, okay? I’ll always worry about you.” You smile as you curl further into her. Her hand that once rest on your cheek, not rests on the back of your head—soothing you to sleep in the wake of the night.

—

| Ellie who makes sure you aren’t indulging in your bad habits; whether that’s picking at your nail beds, not saying what’s completely on your mind, rubbing your hands against the fabric of your clothes. She wants you to be as comfortable as possible. Even if it’s only a little.

—

| Ellie Williams, who comforts you in your overthinking. She found that when dating you, it had only come sparsely in its rarity—but your doubts of her wanting you was there. But she was always there to soothe those needless feelings.

***

“You think I don’t want you?” She asks, brows furrowed deeply.

Again, though not unusual, you avoid her gaze as you speak, “I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t know why you would want me. It’s stupid. I’m just overthinking again.” And before you know it, Ellie’s lips are pressed against yours—and they are soft as they always were. Delicate, gentle, and real.

“I know I can’t it them go away. Not now, at least. But I always want you. Even when you don’t think I do, all I find myself wanting is you.”

—

| And for the last headcanon, I picture Ellie always being there as you are for her. When she needs you, you’re always there—always there to guide her when in need. And she treasures you for that. Ellie handles you, speaks of you, and thinks of you with care. At least she tries to. Most of the time. Even if she does get frustrated—because no is perfect—she never hesitates to assure you of her love. She knows that her anger can sometimes be reckless—but she tries her best to make it up to you if she ever makes you feel less than what she knows you as. Perfect.

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F Ch.1

To all those new to this fic, Hi! Welcome! I'm sure you'll have fun with this since I'll be posting/updating the old update posts all at once. It's a lot, but if I don't do this now I probably won't later, so bare with me, will you?

[Ao3 chapter] [Masterpost] [Chapter 2]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting shot isn't the best way to start a friendship, but at least nobody died, right?

Gotham is dark.

 And big.

 And haunted.

 It would seem like the worst place for Danny to hide, considering just how many vengeful and sad ghosts there are. And yet, here he is, on his third month here after escaping leaving Amity Park after an unexpected and, frankly, embarrassing reveal of his secret to his parents.

 Needless to say, they did not take it well.

 Silently cringing at the images of the inside of ecto-proof cages and Fenton blasters running through his head, he floats on his front invisibly about his current interest in lazy circles as they perch on the edge of a rooftop. Red Robin, the first bat he encountered during his stay, and second favourite Gotham vigilante, (his first being Red Hood) was currently working on a case that revolved around a string of break-ins to large electronic stores around Gotham's commercial district. The contents of what was stolen didn't seem to have any pattern, but none of the security systems at previous stores were able to even glimpse at the thief.

 Red Robin, hearing rumors through his contacts of the electronic store across the street from them being the next target, had decided to stake out the place in hopes of a clue. The security feed was currently being patched through onto Red Robin's wrist computer as the bird watched silently for any signs of movement. A slight distortion caught Danny's eye and he lowered himself over Red Robin's shoulder to get a better look. Red Robin shivered at the sudden chill, but didn't look around like the first dozen times Danny had hovered into his personal space.

 It was weird, the lack of reaction. At the beginning, about a month beforehand was when Danny had first taken interest in the vigilante. He was bored of staying in the decrepit old building he'd started squatting in after the first few nights of paranoia fueled isolation. Figuring the best way to settle his nerves was a midnight patrol, he took off flying in a lazy pattern, first around his new house(not his home, not without them) and then around the rest of the district.

 He was just about to head back when he came upon police lights outside a small computer repair shop and curiosity, reluctantly, got the better of him. Danny, invisibly and intangibly as to not be detected, floated cautiously through the roof of the shop to see what had happened. He was not expecting to see Red Robin surrounded by four officers all huddled together watching—glaring—at the monitor displaying the shop's security footage.

 Seeing that A. There wasn't anything really bad about the place, like a body or any particularly fresh ghosts, and B. That his second favourite Gotham hero was on the scene had instantly made Danny much less cautious and much more curious. He waited for the officers to focus their attention elsewhere in the store and floated closer to have a look at what the hero, who was currently rewinding the tape, was so baffled about. Red Robin had just hit play when Danny came close enough for his shoulder to accidentally brush the side of Red Robin's head in a momentary lapse of his intangibly, sending the vigilante bounding to his feet in a defensive position, searching for anything close.

 Danny, in the split second between his accidental tangibility and Red Robin's reaction, had instinctively moved back and reasserted his powers for good measure. The video played behind Red Robin as he tensely searched the dingy narrow shop for anything that could have caused the cold chill and light brush to the back of his head, but even with the high tech sensors in his lenses he couldn't pick up anything that close to him, just him and the now three other officers in the building. His body slowly uncoiled, the fight bleeding out of him as he watched the officers inspect a particularly interesting piece of wiring near the entrance. 'Like a snake' Danny mused, before silently berating himself for almost getting caught by a bat. 

 Man, that would've been embarrassing.

 Danny was lucky he hadn't thought to switch to thermal viewing, or he would have noticed the massive cold spot just above him to his left.

 After that night Danny kept going for patrols around his squat house, and subsequently kept running into Red Robin in his case to find the ghost(ha) thieves. After the seventh time he figured it would be more interesting to just start out searching for the vigilante instead of running into him after the police lights directed him to a crime scene.

 An alarm from the store across the street had Danny refocusing on Red Robin's wrist computer. There hadn't been movement on the cam footage, but as Red Robin rose from his crouch Danny noticed one of the camera views where an empty display that had previously held a line of 60 inch flat screens not five minutes before. Rising and hopping off the cornice Red Robin toggled the button on his comm with an exasperated groan.

 "Oracle, it's RR," he paused and a woman's voice could vaguely be heard, "So you couldn't see anything either?" He groaned again, louder as he took a few more steps away from the roof ledge. "What kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?" Another pause, this time from both ends.

 "You think it's a meta?" Red murmured, almost to himself. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," Oracle was saying something he couldn't make out, then "I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them." Danny tuned out their conversation after that as another sound caught Danny's attention at the back side of the building. Red Robin was too focused on his conversation to notice or hear, but to Danny the hushed tones were both loud and suspicious.

 As he got closer to the edge, the tones became voices, all three deep and rough. He peered over the rear cornice to the alley below, and spotted three men dressed in all black loading the freshly stolen TV screens into the back of a nondescript white van. Two of the men were making their way to the front doors of the vehicle and were wearing large gaudy white belts and were shouting at the third arranging the monitors in the back. The half-ghost only had time to think 'well they don't look suspicious at all' before the first one got to the driver's side door and yanked it open. Belatedly realizing that they were probably the thieves the pacing hero behind him was looking for, Danny made a split second decision and dove for Red Robin's utility belt.

 Among the few gadgets Danny had seen Red Robin use, the tracking bug was stored in an easily accessible front pocket at the birds front. Rather than trying to be stealthy for the sake of him not being found out, Danny quickly made a downward sweeping motion with his hand to grab the tracking device intangibly out of the pouch. Only half noticing the full body chill he gave Red Robin on the process, he dashed back to the van of whose driver had just keyed the ignition and stuck the tracker to it's undercarriage in time for it to peel out of the alley back doors only just closing on the turn with a lot 'slam!' and into the dead side street away from the electronic store.

 As he watched the van go, he hoped that tracker had an automatic 'on' function or he would be down one piece of mysteriously missing bat-tech and up one very suspicious bat.

 Flying worriedly back up to where he had left said bat, he was greeted with his slightly panicked conversation with the person(s?) on the other end of his comm. "-I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm- no I'm not coming down with something Dick! "

 Something in the way he said that made Danny pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear that. Vigilantes and their secret identities, right? (was his name really Dick? Or was that just an insult? It felt like a name when he said it…)

 "I swear something has been stalking me for the last month and none of you will believe me!"

 The half-ghost flinched, realizing that yeah, he maybe hadn't been as sneaky as he'd thought in hanging (haunting?) around the vigilante, but after the first few reactions to his ghostly presence he'd thought Red Robin had choked him up to being some regular Gotham chill or something, only shivering before going back to what he'd been doing previously. Before anyone, present or otherwise, could say anything else, Red Robin's wrist computer beeped and pulled up a map showing the location of the -thankfully operational- moving tracker.

 A small "What?" was the only thing to accompany the deep frown as Red Robin lifted his gloved arm showing the tracker, before reaching into the pouch that previously held said tracker and pulling out empty air. Somehow deepening his frown, the bird looked around the empty rooftop, scanning for seemingly anything, before moving his hand back to his comm to speak.

 "Guys, I think I got a lead," he stated wearily. He was met with a few seconds of dead air before a flurry of voices spoke one after another in a cacophony Danny could barely even start to decipher before Red Robin spoke over them.

 "Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or. that tech."

 A distinctly male voice replied this time, and Danny could vaguely make out something about the tracker leading to a trap. Danny really didn't think about what he'd do after setting the tracking device, just that his core urged him to help. Internally groaning at his lack of planning yet again, he was surprised to hear Red Robin's reply.

 "I don't think it's a trap. If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me." He started to make hand gestures around halfway through his rant, ending off with a grumble at the notion of invisible teens' currently unknown presence. He heard one more voice speaking up in a cautious tone before the vigilante raised his hand again to the comm. With a reassuring sounding "will do" he switched off his comms and headed to the fire escape off the side of the building and to his bike parked a few streets over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   The docks, Danny thought, were both more haunted and quieter than Amity's, and that somehow made them even creepier.

 While keeping up with Red Robin's ninja-like movements through the maze of Gotham's harbour he had spotted no less than fifteen ghosts of various power levels and forms, ranging from the usual blobs to some very concerning looking business men in drenched suits.

 Coming up on the location of the tracker Danny placed on the thieves van, they came to a warehouse that was a lot less dead than the ones beside it. Creeping up to an adjacent roof Danny could spot three guards, likely armed if their postures were anything to go by. Red Robin surveyed the perimeter before finding an open window on the second floor. He studied the opening for a few minutes to confirm whether or not there was anyone in the room, then pulled out his grapple and shot it at the overhang of the building just above it, sailing through the small hole with practiced grace.

 'Most of the batclan could probably take flight really easily… A bat that could actually fly, now that would be terrifying.' The intrusive thought couldn't escape Danny as he floated through the wall behind the bird, watching as he took a roll and came up in -from what the half-ghost could tell- a perfect defensive crouch. Red Robin checked the room for any cameras before creeping over to the doorway, the door itself having most likely been lost to vagrants a long time ago. With no one in the corridor -though with the other doorways having actual doors it was hard to tell- the vigilante stalked towards the open end, presumably where the office portion ends and the warehouse properly 'begins'.

 Red Robin stopped just short of where the office hallway met a grated catwalk that overlooked about two thirds of the warehouse below. Though it must not have been originally, the office space was held aloft by solid yet bare I-beams that jutted from the concrete below. Remnants of walls in the form of gypsum dust and water stains were all that proved the existence of a previously blocked off section to a now open space. The open space, of course, held pallets and pallets of stolen electrical equipment; TV's, computers, stereo systems, just to name a few that Danny could see. Along the wall to his right he could see the van he'd tagged with Red Robins tracer, along with two other vehicles of similar make to the one they followed. The first van currently had its rear doors wide open as four men in all black unloaded the monitors into a waiting palette for… storage? It was hard for Danny to say, but by the way the vigilante slightly below him gasped -silently, he noted absently- they had found the mother-load.

 There were more guys than just the ones unloading the van, obviously. They seemed to keep in groups, but in total there were maybe thirty of them, the ghost boy guessed. All of them had some small firearm on them, about half some visible melee weapon, and all had the same Bad Guy™ wardrobe of black long sleeves and pants.

 A good few had those garish white belts on, Danny had noticed due to the fact they stick out like the belt on his HAZMAT, though for different reasons. The goons that wore them didn't unload the goods with the ones who didn't have them, suggesting they had a different job in this operation.

 Red Robin was taking all this in just as much as he was, watching the men at work as they catalogued the new additions to a collection that clearly went further than just the department store robberies. 'Maybe they break into houses too?' Danny had to assume that because how else would you get a literal mound of cellphones and tablets without some good ol' B&E?

 You can't, that's how.

 Both Danny and Red Robin were too captivated by the floor below they weren't paying attention to the floor they were on. Specifically, they didn't notice the goon slip out from one of the offices they had neglected to check beforehand. He didn't see them—really just Red Robin, Danny was still invisible—immediately, but as the bird didn't turn around immediately the thug took the chance to take out his weapon—a short lead pipe in this case—and slunk towards the bird and ghost duo as silently his black converse could.

 Danny heard a scuff a second before the guy behind them took a swing—straight at the back of Red Robin's head. Thank the ancients so did he, swivelling on the ball of his left foot and kicking out with his right, sweeping the thugs legs and sending him face first into the catwalk grate with his momentum. As he landed though, he let go of his pipe.

 Which fell to the floor below.

 Which in turn alerted everyone to what was happening just above their heads.

 Danny metaphorically held his breath (not literally, he didn't need to breathe as a ghost) as, as one, the entire warehouse snapped to look in the direction of the loud clang! and eventually the bird in the rafters. Many rushed to unholster their firearms before shooting at the vigilante.

 Red Robin cursed and sprinted back the way he came, into the vacant room and back out the window to the opposing roof with his grapple. Behind them shouting and more gunshots could be heard, leaving Danny's ears ringing as the mob of thugs spilled out of the warehouse in pursuit of the rooftop runner.

 Danny had to resist the urge to put up a shield to aid the bird in his escape, his core screaming at him protect protect protect! As bullets whizzed by them in the leaps Red Robin took between corrugated rooftops. He deflected as many as he could without being obvious, but due to that a few found their marks, the first one in Red Robin's upper right arm, another grazing his left cheek to the bridge of his nose, and the final one getting through his body armour and through his lower left side, exiting through his chest.

 The last bullet made Red Robin yelp in pain, losing focus of his landing position and slipping on a slick spot on the next roof. His legs went out from under him and though he tried to find something, anything to hold onto, the strain had his right arm weakening, and with a look of terror, he fell.

 Protect protect protect protect protect pr̵̟̬̬͕̼̜̪̞̊̓͗̊͌͆͠͝ͅo̷̦̟̥̠͉̘͕͛̎͛͝ͅṱ̷̼͔̘̩̆ě̴̗̱͍̤̣̻̯̹̇̍̄c̶̡̤͔̫̠̲̍͋́͐̀͂̕͝t̵͚̟͓̔͐̏͊̈́̕ ̶̘͈͙̻̦̫̱͑̂p̴̧̩͚̝̲͓̜̰͑̅́̉̈́͛͝r̵̨̛̘̕ǒ̷̧̰̟͖͓̳̘̮̓̊̈́͗̉t̵̢͙̝̰͍̗̪̀͛ͅḛ̵͖͎̭̹̾́̀͋͘ç̵̭̭̫̥̭͎͚̯͌̌̀̾ṯ̵̤̪̟̙̹̂̓́̊͛̐̓͘̕͜ ̵͙͈̟͆̀̍̆p̸̡̛̙͎̖̭̐̆̈́̇̏ṙ̸̘̗̪͖̂̽̉́̕o̶̝̬̔̅̈́͑̃t̷̨̧̛̖̘̩̩͇̺̀̔͋̈́́̄̈́͝ȅ̴̞̗͗̂͂͂̉̚c̶̛̥̹̃̃̓̐̽ṯ̶͎̈́͂̈͐̎́͒͝!̶̥̇̄̈̓̈́͗̀͝͠

 Before he knew what he was doing, Danny dove for Red Robin, catching him by the wrist not five feet from the very hard, very solid, concrete pavement below them. He lowered the vigilante down gently, his legs not supporting him due to shock of not going splat. (or possibly due to trauma and blood loss.) Danny only let go when Red Robin was firmly sitting on the ground, back to the adjacent wall and unharmed -other injuries notwithstanding- and turned to the rapidly approaching thunder of footsteps as the goons came running at them.

 Dropping his invisibility, Danny put a shield around the prone teen behind him. Better not to have him get worse due to some stray bullets while he was being protected.

 Why wasn't he taking the injured vigilante and getting the hell outta dodge to somewhere safe? Well that's because he was angry. He was angry they hurt something that was his. They would pay for hurting something he was protecting.

 And so, as the mob of goons came at the two teens, Danny, for lack of a better term, unfolded.

 A multitude of eyes and teeth and claws came gnashing and snarling outwards in a cloud of frozen shadow at the gang, causing many to panic and either shoot or flee. Some of the ones shooting shot the ones trying to get away, and the buildup of panic and screams and fear had Danny cackling in static echos as he gouged and disarmed and covered the mob in his nebulous mass. He never injured enough to kill, but enough to make sure that if they weren't carried away that they'd need a while to recover.

 As the stars that were his teeth and nails stopped flashing in blows delivered Danny adjusted himself back to his usual state, teeth only slightly sharp and claws firmly under the white of his HAZMAT gloves. Satisfied at seeing no man left behind was a code the thugs stood by, Danny turned back to the glowing dome that housed his vigilante.

 (No, not his, he can't own someone.)

 Red Robin was still in the same spot, which is good. He was also unconscious, which is less good. Gingerly, Danny put two fingers to the bird's neck, looking for and finding a pulse that while strong, was erratic and fast. He would bleed out without immediate attention, and it would be a bad idea to try and carry him to the nearest hospital for multiple reasons. Cursing, he took off his left glove and wrapped it under Red Robin's armpit, knotting it tight for a makeshift tourniquet. Trying to assess a chest wound with only the surface knowledge he knows from patching himself up would be disastrous, so from the small interdimensional space that held his possessions while in ghost form he pulled out his to-go med kit. Thankfully he hasn't needed it all that much since he got to Gotham, leaving much of the more heavy duty supplies for cases of emergency—cases like these. He takes the antibacterial spray and applies a generous amount to both the entry and exit wound, then seals both with his ghostly ice and wraps his torso in bandages. Debating on whether or not it was better to dress the cut on the fainted teens face, the need to respect his privacy won out and applied some gauze with a hint of frost to keep it on and to prevent infection.

 While not entirely satisfied with his handywork he knows the ice mixed with the spray will kill anything off except the bird himself, he focuses on the hard part.

 Telling the bats.

 He knows he has to. But the fear of them trying to look into him has him hesitating. His core thrums loud in his chest, urging him to help, protect your human, protect and the fear recedes for a moment. Before it can come back Danny pulls Red Robin's comm out of his ear and holds it over his own. Taking a fortifying breath he technically doesn't need he pressed the button on the earpiece and breathed out a nervous "H-hello?"

 "RR, status report." The female voice he recognized as hearing before, Oracle, comes over the comm instantly.

 "Uhhh, bird down?" He hadn't seen a code used for when a bat needs immediate assistance. He could've at least tried to sound more confident.

 "... Who are you and how did you get Red Robins' communicator?" Anand that just sent her on high alert, great going Fenton.

 Ignoring the question and putting a little more bravado in his voice he states "listen, Red Robin has been shot and needs medical assistance. I've patched him up but he's unconscious and might be in shock. One of you bats needs to get down to the docks and help him."

 The line was dead for a moment before another voice—was it Dick—came on the line to answer.

 "I'm on route to the docks now, tell me where he is and we'll see what happens to you."

 Relief flooded through Danny despite the thinly veiled threat and he quickly rattled off their coordinates, noting in between which warehouses they were in before turning off the comm and placing it in its original position.

 He stayed to make sure Red Robin was safe until he heard the silent hum of Nightwing's electric motorbike. Turning invisible he watched the older vigilante rush to check over Red Robin's wounds, make a comment into his comms, then turned his head to search for the one who patched him up.

 Giving up quickly he picked up his fainted younger bridal style and carried him over to his bike, placing him on the front with him just behind him to secure him. Then they were off, speeding to Danny didn't know where, probably the bat cave? He was about to head home when the thrum from his core gave him pause. It still needed to know Red Robin was safe, still calling to protect, even if there was no danger. Trying to ignore it would just make the thrum turn to a burn, so reluctantly Danny sped off to follow Nightwing and his (no, not his) Red Robin.

 'This is going to end either very well, or very badly…' Was all he could think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Next][Ao3]

[androgymagnus]

i'm so sorry i saw this fic's title and my brain immediately, for some reason, jumped to the conclusion that the premise was "armand was secretly the mothman this whole time". and i'm weeping.

[moodyvoid]

After pestering him for days, you finally convince Dabi to pierce your tongue.

Beforehand, he’s taunting you the whole time saying “It’s gonna hurt really bad— are you sure you still want to?” getting a kick out of seeing you nervous.

However, once it’s time for the act, he’s surprisingly gentle as he tilts your head to face him just right and he directs you on what to do. His voice is soft, but stern.

“Stop moving.”

You start to realize how intimate this all is once he’s up close to you, lining up the needle. The two of you catch eyes for a moment, “Take a deep breath for me… and breathe out.” as he pushes the needle through, securing the jewelry in place. You blink a few times, not even realizing it’s over.

“Not so bad, huh?” he asks, putting aside all the tools while you look in the mirror.

You go to ask him what he thinks about it, but barely get the question out before he’s kissing you — something he was fighting the urge to do the entire time.

[tarabyte3]

I read a fanfic about a month ago that didn't have a particularly compelling summary and had very few tags (only 2 beyond the pairing and the characters, in fact). However, I've been doing this for almost 3 decades. Unless there is something in the tags that I actively don't want to read, I will always give a fic a chance. So I read it anyway.

When I tell you I imprinted on this story.

It was beautifully written, sure, but there was something about the very specific tone and emotion that the author captured which spoke directly to my soul. I wanted to curl up in it. I wanted to consume it. Let it burrow its way under my skin. It was only ~1700 words long and, by the time I was finished, I wished I hadn't read it just so I could experience reading it for the first time all over again.

Then I saw that it was a series, and I wanted to weep. There was more! And you know what? The second part was just as good. It was set years later, but the author still captured that sense of nostalgia and yearning in the same way poetry does: what was left unsaid is just as devastating as what's there.

I also knew with all my heart that it didn't have nearly as many kudos as it deserved. I'm sure a lot of people overlooked it for the reasons I stated above, and, logically, I could understand why it didn't grab people's attention, yet still I raged against how unfair that was. That something so wonderful could sit in plain sight and people just scrolled by.

So I read it all again. And then again. I reread it and thought about it constantly, until I finally gathered my thoughts and left a gushing comment telling them exactly that.

I wasn't expecting a reply because the fic was more than 2 years old and they were writing for different fandoms now, and it didn't seem like they always responded. Which was fine. I didn't care or need one. I just cared that I let them know their work was beautiful and had been transformative for me. That it wouldn't leave my head. I wanted to say thank you for its existence.

But they did respond! And quickly! Both to say thank you and to let me know they've been thinking of writing a part 3 for the series, and my comment gave them the encouragement to get started. I have no coherent thoughts for how that made me feel.

Anyway, my point is, commenting on fics and giving feedback is important. Supporting authors is important. Giving fics a chance is important, and you're probably missing out if you refuse to engage with something based on a superficial set of stats. Further more, understanding that, just because your work doesn't get a lot of engagement, doesn't mean it's not incredible is important. Keep going. 💖

[tswwwit]

i’m sooo curious on bill meeting dipper’s parents. i think i remember you mentioning at one point they kinda sucked and treated dip especially bad. i’m sure that’s caused a lot of his long term mental health/self esteem issues and i can’t help but think his husband wouldn’t be too thrilled about that. also they don’t even know he’s married so that’s a whole other thing lol

In the Familiar AU, Dipper's parents shipped him and Mabel off to Grunkle Stan back when they were twelve, actually!

This was initially excused as the twins 'needing to get used to having magic'. Which makes sense! Magical puberty is a heck of a thing, and getting some training's useful to cut down on random magic surges.

But by the end of the summer, they hadn't made any plans for picking the kids up. This when Stan twigged to the real situation.

And by the end of that year, Dipper knew his 'paranoid' assumption was absolutely correct.

So the twins grew up in Gravity Falls, with only very occasional visits back 'home'. Contact's been sporadic, and Mabel's been the one who's clung more to their parent's attention. Dipper hasn't spoken to them unless forced to in years.

So yeah! Bill's not exactly thrilled with the parents - but lucky for them, they haven't met him yet! And they definitely don't know about the marriage. Much less anything else.

[allergictolife09]

You know a fandom's niche when it has a grand total of 80 fics on ao3.

[transsexualraskolnikov]

my whump trans!aku fanfic is up!!! and it only took me three excruciating months to write! it did NOT make me insane at all! 

anyways, if you like atsushi being the greatest person in the world, akutagawa learning to (somewhat) hate himself a little less, terrible pining from useless homosexuals, and a good dose of transgendered sex, i say, go for it buddy. 

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[winterwrites23]

Oof, sorry you had to deal with that. It's never fun to read a story that makes you cry at the end. Except /maybe/ if your crying out of happiness. Hopefully, you'll remember to to exclude that tag next time?

The plot was so interesting, though, I couldn't stop reading it ksfkhsdfhaghrts. Despite the glaring warnings, I convinced myself it would end well or that a side character would die instead of the main. Alas, I was still so shocked lol

Honestly, I often cry over stories. I remember one time my sister saw me sobbing with tears streaming down my face while trying to finish the last paragraph of the story I was reading on my phone lol. She was so confused but also thought it was the funniest thing when I tried to explain the plot, all while shoving tissues in my face.

To this day, it's one of my favourite fics. One of the main characters died at the end, but it was so natural and well-written, I was ready to accept all the feels.

But the one I read the other day? It hit me like a truck because the mcd came out of nowhere and I didn't expect the story to end so abruptly. There was no closure, just 'BOOM character died you can close the tab now', though it tragically made sense for the plot.

So yes, I will remember to watch for the tags in the future or at least mentally prepare myself for it. The whiplash wasn't worth it at all. Especially when I had to focus five minutes later on learning about photons and wavelengths for chemistry class 😂😂😂

[sometimes-sleeby-octopus]

I kept see the “Category 5 Autism Event” thing and I was like “That’s cool, but I don’t know what that means” and then I had one this week. I get it now.

[cookiecomics]

.

[sweetpapercroissant]

if i post a fic idea rotting my brain will you guys bully me into writing it 🥺👉👈

[georgette-mademoiselle]

(( one thing about Georgette is that besides hearing voices of the dead she often hallucinates visions that are not there sometimes she has a hard time telling if its real or not thanks to her ghosts bieng dicks sometimes this for instance caused an incident where at a time she had not yet confessed or made a move she thought she was hallucinating sekido so thinking that it was all fake she went over to caress his face only to realize it was the real sekido with a shocked look on his face that he didnt have time to knock her back to reality with his staff.))

[bsaka7]

i am mellowing my anti-english major opinion (some of my beloved friends were English majors ok) bc i just learned about the literary usage of the term "magical realism" and how it's related to post-colonial latin america and latin american indigenous knowledge and practice... something i vaguely was aware of as a connection bc like... Borges and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but really didn't know at all about its categorical use and IMPORTANCE and had no idea how "watered down" the term is popular culture. anyway ppl who know about english and witness my constant book talk/hating/grumping... feel free to weigh in/correct me etc on things like this now and in the future....

[afterthegreatunknown]

random moment in mrs. quagmire’s life (before she was mrs. quagmire):

q’s cousin ernest recently told joan that she’s an envious person. joan has no idea why he would bring it up suddenly and randomly. besides, being envious implies joan has the desire to have possession of something she doesn’t have, like an item or a person. being envious implies joan is resentful and bitter towards the person who has what she desires to have possession of.

(”maybe you’re thinking of jealous, ernest,” said joan, taking a small bite of her blueberry muffin. “even then, you’re wrong. i’m not the jealous sorts.”)

but as joan sits down on the wet park bench, joan rethinks on what ernest said. as joan picks up the bottle of brandy besides her that jacques likes and always asked for at meetings and after dinner conversations, she thinks of ernest’s words. ernest’s truthful words that shot through joan’s heart in a way she didn’t think possible.

(”i’m not thinking of jealous, joan,” replied ernest, setting down the coffee cup. “if i thought you were the jealous type, i wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now to avoid your ire.”)

joan thinks of the day she and jacques got to know each other better. it was their fifth mission together. the mission required them to not communicate with one another, unless it was in code. yet jacques one day talked to her. they spoke to one another not as volunteers, but as two people who bonded on the fact they weren’t hallucinating an english dub of a japanese animation about a vehicle name mach five, and its owner with a punny name.

(“the only ire you get from me is whenever you borrowed something of mine without permission,” asked joan, setting the muffin down. “speaking of borrowing, why do you need my ice axe? you don’t know how to use an ice axe. so you asking for one is quite odd.”)

since then, joan and jacques began talking to one another outside of missions. they hung out with one another, and not as volunteers. in fact, the two were supposed to hang out together today, for a belated birthday party at the agatha shelly’s bowling alley. jacques had missed out on her (and her sisters) birthday on account of a delay train due to a cow and tractor. jacques promised her they would celebrate later, on this date.

(ernest gave her an almost apologetic expression. his eyes, his smile... it’s like he was sorry for something. “i’m not at liberty to tell you. at least not now. all you need to know it’s for a mission i was told of rather recently. i’m not partaking in the mission, so i’m not asking for your ice axe for myself. i’m asking on someone’s else behalf who can’t ask you for...reasons.”)

joan never once had feelings of resentment and bitterness towards miss baudelaire and bertrand b, and r, and jacques own sister and little brother. joan doesn’t think ill to those jacques are close with. they are all wonderful, intelligent people who joan thinks only of in a positive matter of, even if she doesn’t know them as well as she could know them, or knows them far better than she would like too.

(“alright then. can i guess who? it is baudelaire? oh, it is baudelaire, isn’t it! she’s the only one that isn’t my sisters, me, and jacques who likes that particular model of ice axe! we been for friends for years now! does she still think me intimating when it comes to asking me things?”

“it’s associates. you been a volunteer long enough to know this, joan.”)

but joan can’t help feel resentful and bitter towards them right now.

as joan brings the brandy bottle to her lips, she looks upward at the grey clouds still lingering around. joan couldn’t help but hope it rains again. she wants people to think she was soak in the rain for far too long, instead of crying over something she never had to begin with.