#other folks' fics

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[starflungwaddledee]

from: @starflungwaddledee to: @post-it-notes7

message from santa: "happy holidays post-it-notes! 🎄🥳 i know you very politely only wished for a few modest things- characters high fiving, or struggling in christmas attire- but i hope you'll still enjoy this given that i kinda went the opposite direction entirely! i'm an enormous fan of your work and most times you post anything i wind up browsing your art tag from tip-to-tail in enraptured delight. as such, i thought it was only fair i give back something a little more significant in gratitude for all the joy your work has given me. i knew i wanted to do a comic, so i was thrilled you already had a whole storyverse for me to work from!! this scene seemed the most obvious choice (chapter 8 of "wishful thinking" on ao3) given that i enjoy a dramatic fight scene 😂 i tried to stick as beat-by-beat to the writing as i could and worked in as many details as possible; i hope it'll be fun to see it envisioned this way! merry christmas! ~starflung 🎀🔔 "

[stealingyourbones]

Gonna start making another DPXDC writing challenge where I’ll make a bingo card generation that contains super popular tropes in the fandom.

The goal is to not write said tropes. Bingo of tropes to avoid and even more of a bonus if you do a blackout board on the tropes you didn’t do.

Reply with the most common DPxDC tropes ya can think of so I can add them to the Blackout Bingo List :)

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 6)

Masterpost

Lois prides herself at being good at rolling with the unexpected. Unfortunately, all of her experience with aliens and supervillains and magic has not prepared her for Danny.

Danny has a disconcerting habit of dropping disturbing or traumatizing information in an off-hand way, seeming to not even realize the implications of his own words. It started with what he said about the dimension he'd grown up in discriminating against people with powers, then with what he'd said about the red son and the lack of superheroes, but it just keeps happening.

Lois tries not to call attention to it, because she prefers it to the alternative, which is Danny shutting himself up in his room and refusing to talk to any of them.

Lex Luthor is on the nightly news-- as he so often is-- and Lois has to explain the man's many crimes to Danny. (No, Jon, it is not a rant.)

"Oh," Danny says. "He sounds like Vlad."

"Vlad?" Lois asks.

"Yeah, Vlad Masters. He's my godfather. He's a total fruitloop who wanted to marry my mom and make me his son."

Lois carefully does not react. She wants Danny to tell her things. She wants to know what his life was like when she wasn't in it. "That sounds..."

"Yeah, he tried to clone me. Well, I guess he succeeded, but none of them were stable except for Ellie, and she wasn't really that stable to begin with."

"Ellie?"

"Yeah, short for Danielle. She went by Dani-with-an-I for a while, but she decided she wanted her own name."

That is not the part Lois was looking for clarification on. She goes with it anyway. "Tell me about her," Lois says, and tries not to be concerned about Danny’s descriptions of a teenage girl who apparently lives and travels on her own because she doesn't like to be stuck in one place. Ellie doesn't even get the full benefit of being quarter Kryptonian, living in a world with a red sun.

The four of them are sitting down to dinner-- pizza again; one of them should probably cook sometime this week, but Lois and Clark are both on deadlines-- when Clark asks Danny more about his adoptive family, the ones he grew up with.

He looks sad, the way he always does whenever his adoptive parents come up.   Lois can hardly blame him, when he lost them in such a sudden and traumatic way.  

"They're scientists," Danny says.  "Or they were.  They studied, um, the Ghost Zone and the things that live there.  They didn't really understand it at first-- they thought all the-- um, everything from there was evil and needed to be killed, but they learned they were wrong eventually."

Lois meets Clark's eyes and knows he is as concerned about what happened before that 'eventually' as she is.  Still, neither of them comment, not wanting Danny to clam up again..

Jon, however, has no such reservations.  "That's really messed up."

Danny shrugs.  "Yeah, kind of.  They came around, though.  And I think they blamed themselves for how bad the GIW got because they were the ones who designed the weapons."

"The GIW?" Lois asks, instead of what she really wants to know, which is: Your adoptive parents designed weapons to be used against beings from another dimension??? Did they know what you were? 

"Guys in White," Danny says.  "I don't think that was their real name, but they were from the government."

"Your parents built weapons for them?" Clark asks, his tone deceptively light.  "I thought they were scientists."

"They dabbled in a lot of things.  But they were fantastic engineers."  Danny segues into a story about some of the modifications his adoptive parents made to their car, which is a topic only slightly better for Lois's heart.

Later that night, Lois is sitting in bed, checking her emails on her phone, when Clark sits down next to her and turns on the white noise machine they keep on the nightstand.  (It's the only way to have private conversations when your child-- children-- have super-hearing.)

"I'm concerned about Danny," he says.

"No shit."  The more Danny tells them about the dimension he grew up in, the more Lois hates it.  "But there's nothing we can do now except be there for him."

"I know people who have traveled across dimensions, you know," Clark says.  "I could always ask for a favor."

"You won't," Lois says.  "Because if you do, I'm going to end up committing felonies in another dimension."  

Clark smiles humorlessly. "What makes you think I wouldn't be there with you?"

"Because you're a better person than I am."  Clark never believes her when she says that, but it's true.  Clark is a fundamentally good person.  Lois tries to be a good person, but there's a reason she's not a superhero.  

-----

Kon intended to stop by Metropolis several days ago.  Or at least call Clark back.  But he’d gotten sidetracked by an earthquake in Southeast Asia, and then by Dr Light causing problems in California.  

He gets a few hours of sleep back in Smallville, then remembers that he’d planned on dropping by Metropolis and meeting Danny days before.  He walks the last few blocks to Lois and Clark’s house— flying would be way too noticeable in their neighborhood— and lets himself in.  He walks up to the living room and spots Lois there, furiously typing on her laptop.  

Kon is man enough to admit, at least within his own head, that Lois kind of intimidates him. Sure, Clark is physically stronger, but there’s an intensity to Lois that Clark lacks.  She glances up at Kon, and even though she’s smiling, he still feels pinned under her gaze.  

Kon shifts uncomfortably, reminds himself that unless he turns into a corrupt businessman or something, he’s not actually in danger from Lois Lane.  

“You here to see Danny?” she asks.

“Yeah.”  Kon shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.  “I figured I should probably meet him.”

“He’s in his room,” Lois says.  “He’s not�� It’s not a good day, but maybe he’ll talk to you.  He hasn’t exactly gotten the chance to be around anyone his own age since he showed up.”

Kon knocks on the door to Danny’s room.  

“Come in,” a voice calls from inside.

Kon’s first thought is that he looks more like Clark than Danny does.  Stupid; of course he does.  He’s Clark’s clone.  But then, Jon resembles Clark almost as strongly as Kon does, so maybe it wasn’t a completely stupid thought.

Danny is sprawled on his stomach across his bed, phone in his hand.  There’s a video playing on it— someone talking about the history of the Justice League— but he’s ignoring it, watching Kon with a wary expression.  The room is still as bland as it ever was; other than the clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor, there’s no sign a teenage boy lives here.

“I’m guessing you’re Kon?” 

“That’s me.”  They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment.  

“Have you actually seen any of Metropolis, or have you just been hanging out in here?” Kon asks.

“Lois took me shopping for some stuff,” Danny says.

“Okay, no,” Kon says.  “You have got to get out of this house.”  

“You don’t even live in Metropolis,” Danny says.  

Kon shrugs. “Doesn’t matter; I’ve spent more time here than you.” There’s an old-school arcade he’s been to a handful of times, and a couple of places to eat.  Anything has got to be better than Danny hanging out and brooding in this sad bedroom by himself.

It's a warm day outside.  The sun shines down on the two of them as they walk in near-silence toward downtown.  The awkward silence doesn't quite break until they're at the arcade, competing on an old racing game.  

"I don't think we have this one in my dimension.  The other dimension.  Whatever."  Danny says.

"Yeah?"  Kon speeds ahead of Danny in the game, just in time to cross the finish line.  Danny groans.

"Yeah, but this world doesn't seem to have Doomed, either," Danny says as they start another race.  "There's a lot of little differences like that."

"That's gotta be weird," Kon says.  

"Yeah, Clark kind of freaked out when I told him the sun there was red."

Yeah, Kon can see why.  They talk more as they play more video games, and Danny tells Kon about his friends and what they'd do when they were hanging out in his hometown of Amity Park.  The main people he talks about are his best friends, Sam and Tucker, and his older sister, Jazz, but he mentions a few others.  

"Wait, who is Ellie again?" Kon asks, after Danny shares a story about a prank she pulled on another kid at Danny's school.  They've left the arcade, and are hanging out at the diner a few blocks away.  It's not the coolest place-- in fact, it looks like a grandmother decorated it-- but Clark introduced Kon to it, and it has great food.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Danny asks.  "She's my clone."

Kon chokes a little on his soda.  "You have a clone?"

-----

Danny is probably being paranoid.

Scratch that, he's definitely being paranoid. Lois and Clark have been nothing but nice, and they're clearly used to weird things happening. Like, even aside from the whole alien superhero thing, Lois just saw a kid fall out of a portal and decided to help?  Plus, Clark is an actual superhero.  

Even his— the Fentons came around on the whole “ghost powers” thing.  Eventually.  But he’s gotten used to hiding, to trying to blend in.  

(And what had them accepting him done for them in the end?  They’re dead, the GIW killed them.)

He’d rather hide than suddenly discover that Lois and Clark aren’t cool with their long-lost son being half dead.

Some of his powers he can pass off as Kryptonian— super strength, flight, enhanced senses.  He knows Lois saw his ghost form, and though she hasn’t asked about it, he’s pretty sure it’s just a matter of time.  

These thoughts circle through his mind over and over, only leaving him temporarily when he’s hanging out with the Lane-Kents.  

His bio family.  

That’s not much better, though; there’s a sadness in Lois and Clark’s eyes whenever they look at him, although they try to hide it.  Jon just a kid, and clearly doesn’t know what to make of the whole situation.  Lois keeps saying they are going to introduce him to more people, especially people his own age, but Danny shies away from that.  He doesn’t want to meet more people.  He doesn’t want to get comfortable here.

Still, he’s glad he came out with Kon.  An afternoon of videogames and greasy food hasn’t solved any of his problems, but it’s a nice break, and Kon has already promised to introduce Danny to his friends— a whole team of teenage superheroes.

“I can’t get over how many heroes there are here,” Danny says.  “Like, why do you even need that many?”  Sure, it would have been nice to have some more backup when he was Phantom, but in this world there seems to be at least one superhero for every major city, plus some extra.

Kon shrugs. “Natural disasters, alien invasions, supervillains, street crime… No one can handle all of it.”

Out of all the things he’s encountered so far in this dimension, this might be Danny’s favorite.  Even more than the proven existence of aliens.  Back home, Amity Park needed Phantom, even if they hated him.  But the world here doesn’t need Phantom.  

It’s kind of freeing, and Danny hates it.  He doesn’t want to like anything about this dimension more than his own.  

Would it really be that bad?  You might be stuck here forever, a little voice inside his head whispers.  

He ignores it.

[melissa7102004]

"He thought of the useless little tea cup on the ground.

He must have made a fool of himself."

-- suppressed--"Ouch! All Pain" by vicen-non

[viivdle]

I stand before Cardan, and he looks mortifying in his beauty. He carelessly slumps down on the sofa in his chambers, blissfully unaware of my anxiety. Or, worse, blissfully aware.

“I ought to be mad at you,” he says, and I almost flinch at the sound.

“As I said, I didn’t kill my husband, Your Majesty,” my voice shakes, and I hold onto the hope he will think I am holding back tears.

“Yes, that would be correct. Your husband is sitting in front of you, well and alive. Is he not?”

viivdle productive era??

my ~1900w jurdan fanfic heaven and hell were words to me is out now!!

i tried something different with this one, hopefully it was a good something different

this fic is for @annamatix who i have the pleasure to call my friend. i hope this is just the right amount of "romancy"

happy ramadan<33

[essektheylyss]

Okay I've met all the protagonists and what I'm gathering is that this crew is comprised of trainee Lieve'tel Toluse, Taryon Darrington with a wizard's job and temperament, and Jester Lavorre if anyone was insane enough to give her a diplomatic appointment.

[thesimpsbasement]

Nanami finding out you're asexual

•tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, gn!reader, established relationship,makeout sesh,talk of sex but no smut,reader has bad past experiences

Finally you had a day off from work.The past couple Days have been stressful for you,assignments left and right,major projects every week it took everything out of you and it was thanks to Nanami's convincing that you can now lay in bed all day. He always took such good care of you that sometimes you wonder how you managed to find such a man.Maybe luck was finally in your favor.

Your ears perk up when you hear the creak of the front door.You immediately get up,rushing towards it, knowing your boyfriend just came home.”Kento! Welcome back”You greet the man as you wrap your arms around him.”Hey dear”he smiles at you,kissing your forehead as he takes off his shoes. “How was work?”you ask as you help him out of his coat,hanging it in the hanger by the door.”Nothing much, same old, would rather hear about your day” he says,kissing your cheek this time.”Well I took your advice and relaxed,mainly sat in bed and slept because I needed to catch up,more than one all nighters in a row can really make you value sleep” you rant as both of you walk towards the living room.”That so? I'm glad at least you slept. Maybe I should nag you more since you seem to listen to me when I do, "he teases,cupping your cheek. You roll your eyes playfully,feeling butterflies in your stomach as you feel his warm hand on your cheek.Even after months of dating, it felt like this was your first time seeing the man.

Nanami leans in again,this time connecting his lips with yours.He lets out a hum,gently pushing you on the couch,hand behind your head as he pulls you in deeper.Your eyes close,moving your lips in sync with his,your arms wrapping around his shoulders.You let out a gasp when you feel him bite your bottom lip,allowing him access as he slides his tongue in.Your cheeks are tinted red as the kiss turns more and more heated. Nanami's hand slips under your shirt,palm touching your skin as he moves higher towards your chest.Your eyes widen as you pull away from the makeout session,your hand gripping his wrist “W-Wait!” You pant,eyes staring at his hand.Nanami is quick to retract his hand,eyes scanning your features. “I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to,I should've asked you first” he immediately starts apologizing,giving you some distance.” It's fine Ken,I'm okay” you reassure him “I'm sorry”.

Your sudden apology made the man raise an eyebrow “what for? You didn't do anything wrong sweetheart, I'm not going to force myself on you,we'll only be intimate when you're ready,I'm not going to touch you until I have your consent” Nanami says,his words alone making you teary eyed. ‘We'll be intimate whenever you're ready." Those words played back in your head over and over.He doesn't know. He doesn't know that you'll never want to be intimate in that sense. “Kento…” you trail off,feeling as if your words are stuck in your throat. ‘Come on ___ you have to do it,the sooner you tell him the less it'll hurt when he leaves’ you tell yourself.”Can we…talk? It's important”.

Kento nods,sitting properly on the couch by your side,full attention on you “I'm listening”.You gulp,unable to look at him in the eye “This is going to be uhm I guess disappointing but….I never want to have sex” you admitted with bated breath “and before you say anything it's not you or something you did I just…don't want to have sex,in general, with anyone …ever” you continue, Nanami listening quietly and attentively “Might be a lot to take in but I understand if you're gonna leave for someone else who can fulfill those desires,you wouldn't be the firsthand he hears this Nanami is quick to stop you “Hold on there,let's take this slow alright?” he tries to calm you down “First I'm not disappointed, alright? I'm fine with not having intercourse as long as you're happy,I value you and your health more than I value lust” He says,noticing you staring at the floor “sweetheart..look at me please” You lift your head to meet his eyes,your face is scrunched up,eyes glassy as tears threaten to spill “Oh honey..come here” He cooes,pulling you in a gentle embrace,not to tight but enough to keep you grounded “I'm never going to leave ,especially not over some silly thing like ,I love you for you, I feel in love with that charming personality,your kindness,your laugh,the way your face lights up when you smile,I'd be a fool to throw such a precious treasure away for mere pleasure” his words makes your tears fall as you cling to him “stop talking you're making it worse” you say through sniffles.Nanami chuckles as he pets your back “I'm just being honest”.

After some time,you finally calm down as you rub away any remaining tears.”You really mean what you said earlier?” You ask,still holding onto him. “Of course,now mind telling me what made you think of such silly ideas?” He inquired.You sigh as you lift your head from his chest “Past partners…they weren't exactly fond of the idea of no sexual relationship” you start explaining “they thoughts I was broken or had some unresolved trauma with intimacy but that's not it ,I'm just asexual but they call me a prude, one even started treating me like some kid but one things they all had in common was that they left because of this and I was worried you'd think the same but over time I felt guilty,like I was holding you back ,you're such a great guy and you deserve better” Nanami holds your hands in his before he starts talking “you don't have to worry your pretty little head about any of that,you're definitely not holding me back dearest,this is the happiest I've ever been,truly there's no one else like you out there,besides,sex isn't the only form of intimacy, so I'll be fine, as long as it's you” you sometimes wonder how his words always make you smile.”The people that left you are idiots and quite frankly probably didn't love you that much if they left so easily,don't waste your breath on fools like them,focus on the present” Nanami tells you,kissing your forehead.”mhmm thank you” you smile at him,tackling him in a hug as you pepper his face with kisses “no need to thank me,but I'm certainly not going to complain about the kisses” he chuckles,every kiss making his cheeks heat and his heart racing.

Eventually you stop your attack of kisses,getting up. “You just got back from work so you must be hungry right? Well good news! Made you something extra special so hope you'll enjoy!” you say,taking his hand as you drag him to the kitchen.Kento chuckles,letting you lead the way.

Yeah, he loves you, alright. No way in hell he'll ever leave such a precious thing.

[3416]

what................................ literally what

[kindalikerackham]

I have such strong opinions about E/R in the Would Gay Sex Fix Them poll.

If anything changed, it would only be worse. Period. Full stop. Or whatever they say in French.

Why? Consider: the arcs of the characters; the themes; the plot.

I cannot imagine a way in which R does not get markedly worse in some way as an outcome of this. Like, he's melancholic even while being technically a friend and spectator to the light of the revolution (Enjolras).

And we know, Enjolras righteous angel - would never give up the cause. Not for a mortal love, even if he indulged in it.

Grantaire would only get more frantic, more drunk, more despairing, because by some miracle the avenging angel reached out to touch him. And he had a taste of it: a tendril of ecstasy, momentary in the grand holy fire thundering the skies. He knows, and we know, it's a spark that could only leave him ashen. Hollowed out.

In our beautiful modern AUs: Enjolras the ecoterrorist, or Enjolaras the labor organizer, or Enjolras the firebrand political personality, or Enjolras the Edward Snowden. In these, his life could be soothed and balanced by Grantaire.

But canon will kill them. Or worse - kill only Enjolras. Or even worse - keep them alive. Because Grantaire in his despair bound or bludgeoned the angel to keep him from his holy task.

It's a tragedy.

It's the tragedies.

The Miserables.

Its romance is inextricable from the perversity of the world.

[chiropteracupola]

He’s red and he’s white and he’s green and he’s grey / My bonny young dragon, come hither away...

Keith Windham and Nuntius, out of Luzula's stunning Flight of the Heron/Temeraire crossover fic 'The Flight of Dragons.'

[stjernespiller]

Another eye

Can also be found on AO3

You can’t see anything.

Blood drips from your face. You think it hurts, in that distant way everything does now. You try to get it out of your eye, just enough to see the fight, but your vision stays dark through the wet sounds of blood and flesh.

Stupid, you think to yourself. Stupid stupid idiot, zoning out in a battle. Should have just looped forward to the king instead of taking that bathroom break and fighting the floor boss. Couldn’t even blinding cry, so what did it matter?

Your family members are speaking. They don’t do that much in battle. You should probably listen.

Bonnie is crying.

Mirabelle heals you again, a light feeling drifting over you that does nothing to take away the weight in your stomach. You don’t know why she did it again, you just need to get this blood out of your eye and you can go back to the fight, stop zoning out just enough to beat the sadness blocking your way to asking the king the question you’ve been dreading.

Isabeau is saying something very close to you. You think it’s him, at least, from the deeper tone. You can’t hear it. Can’t fight can’t see can’t hear. You’re pathetic.

He touches your face.

It’s- new, strange, unexpected. You flinch, and he takes his hand back, like your family always does because you’re so weak you can’t even handle being touched. But the hand only leaves for a moment before it’s back again, holding your cheek. you stand very, very still.

Is the fight over? It has to be. You almost had it before you got distracted and let yourself get hit. Maybe Isabeau and Odile got it while Mirabelle was healing you. He wouldn’t be touching you like this if the sadness was still attacking, back turned to where it stood.

He wipes the blood away from your eye, unstained hand doing a much better job than yours had. You still can’t see. You still can’t hear what any of them are saying. He sounds close to tears, though.

Ah. You know why you can’t see.

It clears your hearing. Fear, for some reason, leaves when you exhale. You breathe deep in, again, and a full sense of calmness fills the space of the fear you breathe out.

The blood hadn’t covered your eye, it was coming out of it. Stupid Siffrin didn’t pay attention to the fight and lost another eye.

Isabeau is cursing, voice wet with tears. His other hand cups your jaw, keeping your head in place. He wipes more blood away, touching your eyeball with so much gentleness you feel it should heal it. Mirabelle crafts another healing spell, and Odile asks Bonnie for the one sweet tonic you picked up this loop.

You pick up your wooden arms, raising them slowly, like through a thick fog, to land your hands on Isabeau’s. He drops his hands from your face. You’re speaking to your whole party when you say, “It won’t work.”

Bonnie sobs. Someone, likely Odile, pours a tonic on your eye anyway.

You just need to get to a frozen tear. You don’t remember where they are, but maybe you could convince your family to lead you to one. If you could find some excuse. Or just swing your arms around until you hit one.

“The head housemaiden could heal you,” Mirabelle whispers, voice just as teary as Isabeau’s. “I should have taken more healing classes. Studied more on my own. I can’t do it. And by the time we get to her...”

She trails of. Crafts another healing cure. It works just as well as the others.

Healing of this scale needs to be done quick. You know, because you all talked about it when you lost your first eye, and when Isabeau showed you a small scar on his bicep. Go more than an hour or two without the right healing craft, and it’ll be permanent.

An idea lights up in your mind. You turn your head, but it all stays black, and you can’t look anyone in the eye.

“We can find a tear. Freeze me.” It’s so perfect. You almost have to stop yourself from grinning. The best excuse you could have ever asked for. “when you beat the king and everyone unfreezes, someone can help me.”

The lie is easy, as easy as all the others you’ve filled these two days with. They won’t beat the king without you. You won’t unfreeze with everyone else, and the head housemaiden will never help you. But you need to see to fight, and you need to loop to see, and you need a tear to loop.

It’s quiet for a moment. “Will that work?” Odile asks, voice strangely soft.

“It’s worth a try.”

“We’ll find a tear!” Bonnie yells. They either stamp their foot or jump in place. “We’ll defeat the king and you’ll get your eye back!” their voice is still wet. You don’t know why. Are they scared of fighting the king without you? Now you’re thinking about the loop you let them go alone. Stars, you really are an awful person. Of course they’re scared when you can’t keep fighting, and just before the king, too.

“Let’s bandage it until then.” Mirabelle says, and a piece of cloth presses against your face. It’s nice and cool. “Your coat is all dark know.”

Odile, you think, listening to the footsteps, start walking. “We can’t go back,” she says, “hopefully there will be some tears further in.”

You walk after her. The corridor is as familiar to you as the rest of this blinding house. You don’t need an eye to know the way.

Isabeau still hovers beside you, steps heavy but careful. He doesn’t offer to guide you, probably afraid to touch you, but you can imagine his arm reaching out, hovering above your shoulder, ready to steer you away from the walls or the floor or what else you might kill yourself on. Fragile little Siffrin, can’t walk on his own.

Bonnie is to your other side, rushing ahead for two steps at a time before falling back again, never straying far. They hiccup, and audibly sniff their snot in. You feel awful. The tear is close. You just need to loop.

Mirabelle walks in front of you with Odile. You can almost feel her continuously looking back at you, footsteps irregular in that familiar pattern. You don’t know why it’s familiar, and when you try to remember, it slips away like lightless sand between your fingers.

The air is tense. You slip into your mind, a little. Claude is up ahead, frozen in time with the secret ingredient. You turn a corner, and don’t think about how strange it looks to your family for you to walk through the corridor like this. Isabeau calling you graceful is there, memory pushing itself to the front of your mind, but you don’t force yourself to act as if you don’t know this place better than yourself. They won’t remember.

“Does it hurt?” Bonnie whispers besides you. You instinctively look towards them, but still see nothing but darkness around you. “Sorry, stupid question. Of course it hurts.” Their voice is still wet. They sniffle. “You just act like it doesn’t.”

You’ve been acting a lot. Almost everything feels like a secret, a lie, a play. This isn’t one of them. “It’s just an eye.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN JUST AN EYE?!” Bonnie yells, and their voice is still wet, but it cracks in fury. “You always do this, you don’t care about anything! It’s your eye, you can’t see, you lost both of them now! You have to care!”

They hate you. You remember, now, that they don’t love you. You couldn’t get yourself to help them this loop, too tired from hearing the same thing again and again and again. In this moment, Bonnie hasn’t hugged you. In this moment, you haven’t talked with Bonnie about losing your first eye. In this moment, they still hate you.

But it’s fine. You’re on your way to a tear. You’ve all been walking this stretch for a while, Mirabelle should see Claude soon, and then they’ll find the safe room, and after that - you think you’ve seen tears there before.

“It’s just an eye,” you say again, because you can’t bring yourself to pretend any differently, that it matters to you more than having to loop and run through the third floor again. “I’ve lost worse.”

Bonnie doesn’t respond. Claude has to be here soon, right? Was she always this deep in the corridor?

"How is your eyes not the worst thing you've lost?" Mirabelle asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear her. The kind of question she doesn’t expect a response to.

You shouldn’t respond. You don’t want to respond. How can you. You can’t speak it’s name, can’t tell them anything about it, and you already didn’t help Odile this loop because you couldn’t bring yourself to follow the blinding script again when she won’t understand and won’t remember and won’t care.

“I lost my home,” you say anyway, because it’s all one big cosmic joke. They won’t remember anyway. It doesn’t matter. “And I don’t even remember it.”

Does your country matter, if no one remembers it?

Isabeau speaks up, always the emotionally mature one. “I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

“You never remember anything,” Bonnie sniffles, sounding tired. The kind of exhausted you get calming down from crying. You wish your stupid eye would let you cry.

You’ve already broken the dam. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. “I don’t.” Isabeau tugs at you cloak, pulling you slightly towards him. He lets you go, a meter more to the left of the corridor than before, and doesn’t explain anything. You don’t ask.

“Not even the word for a stuffed animal. Or a sharpening stone, which you use all the time. Or bananas.” It seems to calm Bonnie down, listing all the things you don’t remember. You follow along.

“Not the name for all the birds in Dormount. What bonding earring are. What we did last week. My family. My country. Your names, that one time.”

It doesn’t calm you down. Or the others, for that matter. Isabeau stopped walking. The other three follow suit.

You stop too, because the others did. Then you wish you had kept going, because now you’re just standing here, and you still can’t see anything.

“Sif...” Isabeau starts, soft and careful. “I’m sorry. We’ve been poking fun at your memory, but this... We need to talk, after we beat the king.”

You don’t want to talk. Have you already made the pun on your memory this loop? Bonnie said you couldn’t remember the name, so probably, you need something else, something to divert the attention, it doesn’t matter because they’ll forget but right now they remember and you don’t want to talk.

“Aren’t there any tears here?” You ask, and it comes out harsher than you planned.

“Oh! No, not yet, but there’s a door here, maybe on the other side?” Mirabelle sounds nervous and jumpy. Did you do that? Stars, you’re awful.

Then you think. There’s a door, and you hear someone open it. Claude was before the door. She was, you know it, you can’t have forgotten that, Mirabelle stops you all and says the same thing every time.

Did you all walk past her? Did... did Mirabelle change the script? Because you’re blind now?

Your head hurts. You walk towards the door, and only need to follow the wall for a moment before you reach it, having been pulled from the middle of the corridor by Isabeau. Was that.... because of Claude? Did he pull you out of the way?

When Mirabelle tells everyone to hurry through the safe room, they do so. No one talks about taking a break, and Odile’s stomach doesn’t rumble. You’re through the room without eating or touching the star.

“There!” Bonnie yells, first out of the second door.

“A tear,” Odile says simply. “Two, actually. Pick your poison, Siffrin.”

You chuckle, just a little. Lean right. But you don’t actually know where in the room the tears are. You just know the door to the king is straight ahead.

“Can I lead you to it?” Isabeau offers. You empty your mind, think of nothing, and hold out your hand.

He guides you in an arch. Let’s go of your hand. You reach out, and dream of nothing.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Im sorry but what about pro-ship? ...You would also cheer people who create it?

And by pro-ship i mean incest, pedophilia, rape, abuse and glorifying all of these things.

I just want to know, no vitriol, no hate.

Okay, so, this is a MASSIVE topic and my thoughts are complex. So, just for the purpose of answering this ask, I'm gonna focus on the biggy here - fictional depictions of pedophilia.

Under a cut because this got long!

I don't wanna read anything that glorifies fictional child sexual abuse in a completely played-straight way. That's a big ol' nope.

But there is a world of difference between depiction and glorification. And I don't think people writing about a horrific situation have to constantly shove it down your throat that Pedophilia Is Bad? This sort of thinking leads to incredibly cringey moralistic fiction that is, frankly, dull.

I love dark fiction! I love gothic novels, and horror, which include rape and incest and abuse and child sexual abuse and all sorts - not all of which is demonised! Some of which is wholeheartedly glorified in order to disgust you!

Some content is meant to disturb you and gross you out and make you look at your own internal 'ick' reactions! Or it's designed to give you the 'fascinated horror' people often get from looking at a car crash with multiple fatalities. That sense of intrigue when faced with taboos is a natural part of the human experience. So long as it is only engaged with in a fictional setting, it's a helluva lot less harmful than rubbernecking out the window of your car at a crash site and causing another accident.

Playing with people's disgust can be very interesting and fun, from a writerly perspective! You can create all sorts of really disturbing horror for the precise purpose of making your audience uncomfortable, and no one is actually being hurt!

Art isn't just about happy emotions, y'know? Lolita isn't pro-child-sexual-abuse despite being written from the perspective of a pedophile, and I'd wager that very, very few people who paid to watch The Human Centipede actually have a scat fetish. They're drawn in by their disgust and revulsion - like many people are to darkfic!

Now, if someone is legitimately creating content that seems to be glorifying fictional child sexual abuse, I won't interact with them for personal trigger reasons. But at the end of the day.... I don't know their story? I don't know why they're doing that.

What I know is: when I went through the worst, most traumatic experiences in my life (which, no, I will not be discussing further x) reading about the same horrible stuff happening to my blorbos legit helped. And not just the stuff where it was depicted realistically, as a horrible traumatic experience, but the stuff where it was 'glorified' too, because it made me feel less alone and awful for having lived in that situation and for having told myself it was normal and healthy.

When you're in a situation like that, sometimes you legitimately cannot tell you are in deep shit. Fics that try to point out that you are in deep shit, invariably feel like they're preaching. A balance of fics that try to point out that, y'know, Abuse And Pedophilia Are Bad - delivered alongside fics that depict that sort of relationshp as ay-okay, actually helped me come to terms with some of the shit in my life. Reading both sorts of fic together, it didn't feel like I was being constantly told I was a Victim.

I think, at the end of the day, fiction affects reality. Just look at propaganda and the affects of white supremacy and homophobia on Western Canon! But it's not a 1:1 impact.

It's more important to encourage readers to use critical thinking when engaging with fiction, than it is to harass writers who have created content that disgusts you.

You don't know why they're creating that content, and you don't know how many people it's helped - and, so long as it's properly tagged, people who need to avoid that content due to triggers can do so!

Obligatory: if someone uses a fic with an underage pairing to groom someone, that is incredibly fucked up and disgusting. But literally anything can be used to groom kids, sadly. You could point at literally anything, and at some point, it will have been used to further a child's horrific and very real abuse.

Overall, if you actually give a shit about protecting kids, I think there are far more important things to focus on. Such as:

Educating communities about how the vast majority of child sexual abuse comes from close family friends and family members, not strangers sending kids fanfic on the internet.

Educating communities about how the word 'pedophile' has been purposefully corrupted by right wingers to demonize completely innocent queer people because think of the children. This isn't to say there isn't a very real problem with child sexual exploitation & abuse, but we should perhaps be a little wary about throwing around a word grounded in serious reality to refer to fictional scenarios, and enforcing the very Right-Wing idea that 'thinking about [x] act is the same as doing [x] act'.

Focusing on children themselves. We should support good sex & relationship education, so children know their bodies and understand appropriate cultural norms. We should educate children about their rights, and give children broader community support structures so that they feel empowered to disclose abuse. Offering time or money to shelters is a great way to actually support survivors.

Ensuring there are safe and free refuges for children who are being abused IRL, places where they can stay away from family & other potential abusers - i.e., public libraries, community centres, etc. - or at least know there are other witnesses. Volunteering at your local library and donating can genuinely make a difference to abused kids - and all kids in general!

Dismantling cultures of silence around abuse in your personal community. Do not just tell the women in the group to avoid Joe because he has wandering hands. Tell Joe that his behaviour is inappropriate and will no longer be tolerated.

TL;DR - personally, please keep any/all sexual content involving fictional underage people FAR away from me, and do not send me any rape or abuse scenarios (unless we're brainstorming whump as friends, in which case, you can just gimme a warning).

But I am also against harassing artists and creators unless they are harming real children in measurable ways.

[cepetriwrites]

Meme for latest HOTD fic I’m reading:

Viserys looking up down from heaven hell watching his two oldest children who he forced to get married have toe curling hate sex next to his still warm corpse

Called Rhaenyra your only child in front of Aegon, now he’s giving your only child the good ole Toe Curling Cervix Crushing Hate Sex 3000 special by your emaciated corpse.

The rest of the siblings hearing some… oddly specific noises coming out of their fathers bedchamber where Aegon and Rhaenyra inside “mourning” their father

The Queen and the Prince Consort by @franzkafkagf on AO3

[hangryyeena]

SquidgeWorld refusing to even talk about Palestine and other genocides happening because "this a fandom space" is wild and severely disappointing

[sinful-karateka]

I'll bite and talk about something that doesn't get enough spotlight in general, which are Demetri's and Eli's family life. So obviously several fic authors have their own twists and flavors to this, but if I may sell you something for a sec.

So far into the series, what we've got are these facts:

Demetri's Mom is the only family member to be mentioned in the show.

Eli's parents were mentioned a couple of times.

That should be enough context to deduce two things:

Demetri could be an only child to a single mother, and;

Eli's parents involve themselves in the stuff that he does — including karate, who knows — though they tend to be tone deaf with his actual needs.

There's strong evidence to why the boys act the way they act (brain functions notwithstanding, but this isn't the post for that), which is why I think these deductions make sense. How their hypothetical upbringing is part and parcel to how characters behave in this series. Of course societal influence comes in second because obviously you've got a show that encourages learning karate as defense against bullies, but this show is also about generational chains and traumas! So why wouldn't their home life inform the way it informs the LaRusso's, Lawrence's, and Nichols'? But I digress.

In the span of the entire series, I've held onto this headcanon that Demetri's neuroticism and ability to anticipate his actions carefully stem from a household that needs these systems in place, much more for someone who likes to be on top of things. Since he's just a student, the only authoritative figure who can make executive decisions... is his mom. Add to the fact that she may be a working mom, so when Demetri tells Daniel about certain restrictions in learning karate, what could have made her decide to just write a letter instead vs. taking the time out to go with his son herself? I know I know it's narrative writing but like do you seeeee where I'm at here

Eli's family life is by far gave us early indications of his dynamic with his mother — but not so a father — in earlier seasons. It's possible that his mom is a stay-at-home one, but if I were to push the bounds of this box even further, I'd even speculate that she's retired early if it meant that Eli's dad is the one making most of the living. Like of course they'd get mad at Hawk for getting a tattoo at his age, I think any parent would! But the way he tells Aisha to exclude him from her stories tells us that there's not a lot that his parents know about the life he lives as Hawk. At this point we all know the kind of effort it takes to successfully carry it out because he has to go home every night. It's either he a) puts in a lot of effort into concealing this identity once he gets home, or b) his parents are rarely ever home, which again, feeds into another assumption that maybe Mrs. Moskowitz works certain hours.

All we know is they're never around a whole lot for these boys, which is sad! and also again, very Indicative of their classification as awkward nerds pre- and early karate. When I read along certain fics that consider and include how the rest of their characters besides the found families they've formed, it gives much more depth and potency to writing them, their flaws, and how they think.

For all we know, Mrs. Alexopoulos could be a lesbian making fun of her son for not slinging pussy like she does being rizzless unlike her, but don't let me explain that when we have @demetriandelibinaryboyfriends!