#perhaps there is a point where I should just write a fanfic but then again I would 100% get caught in the setup

[nabanna]

lord help us all I've been given a reason to think about Dracula novel/Drizzt series crossover

I love following canyourfavesurvivecastledracula (I especially love seeing characters I'm not familiar with on there) and they recently got an ask about my little guy Drizzt Do'Urden but didn't know all that much about him BUT YOU SEE (unfortunately for everyone who knows me in any way) this is a crossover of the two major fandoms that have become my entire personality in the past year or so! so as someone who's eagerly awaiting the return of Dracula Daily Season AND reading multiple of the Drizzt series books as we speak (simultaneously! help..) and considers him a blorbo to tenderly and lovingly put in the microwave to watch him dodge the radiation like an ant, I'm taking a crack at it because this looks like fun :D

Making my own post because this is purely to be enrichment in my enclosure and also it's.. gotten So So Very Long.. also pouring one out for my other account where I normally would post this sort of thing that I simply cannot log into anymore for mysterious and unknown reasons. (Literally it's still like There and I can See It but trying to log in takes me to 'make a new blog' pages and... wait I'm silly I think I know why. the email died. no idea how to get back in without the email.)

ANYWAY

To the thought experiment:

Could Drizzt Do'Urden Survive Castle Dracula?

Short answer: Yes, it's not a fun time for him, he saves the baby though!

Long answer:

Using the blog's stated general criteria...

Overall approach to the supernatural:

Is an elf, knows what a vampire is, however D&D vampires work differently from Dracula vampires so he would not have all the information on that front if it came to a confrontation. (Knowing the Drizzt books, it would definitely come to at least one fight or at least a tense chase sequence.)

Also depends on how quickly he clocked that this is, in fact, a vampire, and whether Dracula could catch on to him catching on and spin things in a way that kept Drizzt relatively chill OR decide it's time to strike (which he could probably escape) (though now I'm thinking about Vampire!Drizzt....... no no I shouldn't.... unless.....)

The presence of Guenhwyvar (constellation panther BFF my beloved) would afford him some protection other than Dracula's whims, and companionship which is Very Important as he has been known to go feral without sufficient friendship.

Probably takes all the local superstitions very seriously because where he comes from if someone's like "there are ghosts that come out on certain days" and "there are monsters in these woods" they mean it very Very literally.

Dracula's general inhuman behaviors he could take in stride and adapt to pretty well I think, he's known a lot of really eccentric people and is from Fantasy Zone, so the idea that Dracula isn't human wouldn't be scary or even all that weird. Vampire, yeah that's sus, but just non-human? you walk past a hundred non-humans on a single street in most cities where he's from. Many of the eccentricities might be explainable just by going "Ah, he seems to be some kind of wizard. Yeah that checks out." Doesn't seem to be sleeping on a normal schedule or at all? Drizzt does that too! Sees too well in the dark/doesn't seem to use lights much? Darkvision and light sensitivity, same! Moves inhumanly fast? A little concerning but why not. Tells stories from centuries ago as if he was there? Elves do that all the time and it's because they were, in fact, there. (Also some human wizards do all of that too, just because.)

Now because things work differently between these two settings I'm not sure how much his general familiarity with things in the Forgotten Realms would help him here, like he's taking it all in stride but does he know how to protect himself against a Dracula-type vampire? Does he know magic is so incredibly rare and (apparently) usually evil or does he think this is just an unusually magic-less region?

Whether they would accept the crucifix from the old lady:

He is a polite young man so yes of course he would, and because the lady doesn't know what a drow (or an elf?) is, she probably wouldn't think "evil!!!" like most of the common folk in the Realms do, so much as "weird-looking (yet androgynously beautiful) young man" or depending on the local superstitions may assume he's some sort of fey being? or just like, really exceptionally foreign foreigner.

Assuming she still offers it, he would accept it despite not knowing what sort of deity it's for, because he recognizes it's a token of goodwill and he loves expressions of goodwill. Would definitely go and write about it in his little diary to both wonder what she's so afraid of/what sort of protection it affords, and also gush about the kindness and possibly whether this expands or aligns with his current understanding of morality.

This plus the other Superstitious Behaviors would clue him in that something's up so he'd be going in with that knowledge, prepared to figure out what's going on and what the villagers are so afraid of.

Whether they would go exploring after being told not to:

100% and he might even be stealthy enough to mostly get away with it!

Demonstrably does not like being restricted, only went along with this stuff when he was younger because the indoctrination ensured that he literally had no idea there was any other option (also his dad sparred with him daily to get his energy out so his zoomies were managed)

If Dracula really truly wanted to discourage him from any particular places he might just need to come up with an explanation, but he might also be entertained enough by Drizzt's sneaking and snooping to let him roam and see where it goes. Drizzt is better at stealth than Jonathan but they have different flavors of wet cat charm which Dracula may want to handle differently.

Depending on how you read the scene with the vampire ladies trying to "kiss" Jonathan, like how much of it was vampire charm making him feel kinda into it or potentially more of a paralysis situation, it could go differently just because Drizzt may or may not be able to break out and run away very fast, or just kinda endure it while feeling Really Bad And Gross about the sexual overtones. (Based on instances such as him resisting drugs and exiting the room as fast as possible when a priestess was coming onto him, and going feral to push through a paralyzing poison to prevent an assault on another person.) (I read him as incredibly demisexual and he demonstrates being sex-repulsed to everyone outside of the very short list of people he's actively very close friends with and attracted to.) (His feral side has been known to come out in these types of situations but not all of them and it wouldn't necessarily always work either.)

The girlies would not put him off of exploring for very long but he would likely be trying to avoid all possible run-ins with them from that point forward. Unfortunately for him he is a tasty little guy and I think the girlies would actively mess with him against Dracula's orders, perhaps in part because he's an elf and they find that interesting and engaging. Enrichment for their enclosure! Horrible time for Drizzt. Exactly the way the vampire squad likes it!

Verdict: He has a bad time but he's gotta run around he has the zoomies. Dracula could possibly prevent this, if he wanted to prevent it, by letting him into a training yard of some kind so he can get out his energy.

Ability to manage the whims of a Rich Jerk / hold Dracula's interest:

This one is harder and probably depends on the circumstances of him going to the castle, like what his goal there is, and around what point in the timeline he's at. I haven't gotten through all 30-something books just yet but my answer is Probably?

Just the fact of him being an elf and having some innate magic abilities could possibly be enough for Dracula to find him interesting enough to keep around. He's not a wizard and his innate spells are mostly harmless, more battlefield management than anything, so he's not magically a particularly powerful threat to Dracula, just decently interesting. He could also go on about how magic works where he's from, though going on too much about his inherent drow magic would make him uncomfortable (which Dracula would probably like) and especially like, if he got into the ins and outs of Menzoberranzan specifically.

He would definitely bring out the active listening skills for Dracula's history and war stories. Might want to get examples of any particularly interesting fighting maneuvers. I wonder if Dracula would indulge him in a spar or let him practice? The castle must have a training yard somewhere, but would he let Drizzt keep his weapons/borrow some?

Usually good enough at reading the room to determine when is or is not a good time for the scimitars and the panther (combat mode) to come out.

Not the most charismatic, but insightful and clever. (autism-ass elf. elftism.......)

Raised in a very controlling environment with a strict social hierarchy where he was simultaneously part of a high-ranking noble family but also as far down the social ladder as he could be otherwise (male, youngest child, was supposed to be assigned spell component at birth, doesn't like conforming) so, again, he wouldn't like it but he could probably manage it.

Partly depends on how much effort Dracula is willing to put in to make the Friendship believable and keep Drizzt in the dark, or if he's interesting enough to more carefully balance a web of manipulation around.

I'm gonna say this point gets a Yes

Assuming he realized the vampires are Bad but too dangerous to 2v4, he would be so uncomfortable for most of it but is also funky enough that Dracula would probably find his discomfort and weird-but-trying-to-be-so-polite mannerisms entertaining. Dracula would decide this is his blorbo now. I may be biased but this is tumblr so actually Dracula himself said all of this to me personally in DMs.

Facility for climbing without gear (free soloing):

Lizard fashion? Spider fashion...

He Is On The Walls

Multiple points in the books involve him sneaking around places by climbing on walls and I believe elves are canonically, in general, weirdly good at parkour. So yeah!

Whether they would choose to risk being eaten by vampires over the certain death of being eaten by wolves:

IF he has weapons, the wolves aren't really certain death because he is a whirling tornado of death, I am so sorry wolves. If not then he might be able to parkour out of their way? He probably wouldn't want to fight the wolves though, because he is a disney princess nature lover and would rather free them from Dracula's control if possible.

Depending on how much he could figure out about how vampires work here, he may have some ideas for how to turn a fight against them to his advantage or otherwise.

Wait, this happens after the baby incident, right? If so then he's not getting to this point plot-wise, though he might have come back to try fighting the vampires after saving the baby, and depending on how he's doing that, he might still have to contend with the wolves at some point.

Decision: Doesn't want to go against the wolves at any point, but if necessary, he can out-parkour them.

General analysis from Me:

Main counts on the original post are accurate! He accepts the cross, survives the social situations as long as necessary, and escapes with the baby to give it back to the villagers upset but otherwise intact.

As soon as he realized the vampires were menacing the locals to any extent, he would decide to figure out a way to free the area of their evil. Unfortunately the best way for him to figure out anything about the vampires is to stay in close quarters with them for a little while. He has been known to pretend to side with an enemy to gain information or an advantage in a fight, but I'm not sure how long he could keep it up.

Dracula might string him along with Friendship (Drizzt loves friendship so much if he doesn't have friendship he will explode) but he would have to get his baby-eating roommates to play along and behave or else they could easily freak the guy out too much for it to remain believable.

Either way, Drizzt is not staying in that castle beyond the point of another person (the baby) being put in danger. There's at least one point in the books where he's protecting a baby while fighting some enemies and he always puts the baby's safety first. Also Guen can respawn, so if it's absolutely necessary to, she can get taken to 0 HP distracting the vampires while Drizzt improvises some way to get out of there with the baby intact.

That's as far as "survive Castle Dracula" usually goes because well he got out of the castle alive but now I am also thinking about possible plot beyond that point...

First of all the villagers?? Assuming they saw him as Really Weird Foreigner or perhaps some sort of fair folk rather than Literal Demon Spawn the worst they'd do is probably be very tense and silent after taking the baby back and let him leave uncontested without welcoming him in. Best case scenario is some or all of them, or at least the baby's mother, being grateful enough to help him out a little. But like what's he gonna Do after that? (Also if the villagers think he's some sort of fey guy then would they think there's something up with the baby now...)

I mean he knows there's baby-eating vampires in that castle now and he's very against the idea of leaving baby-eating vampires around. Even if he can't 2v4 all of them plus their minions he'd wanna do something about that. (2v4 rather than 1v4 because Guen counts as one) Would he try to gather allies to assault the castle? If he learned that there's times when he can expect them all to be asleep in their coffins would he try to just go back in and stab them in their coffin-sleep? Would he leave the area if he knows the local people are still in danger or would he reason that he needs to find help and come back?

(Also raising to myself the question of whether this is "specifically only Drizzt has been isekai'd into the novel Dracula" or if there's perhaps a little more crossover type setting blending, or if others from the Realms are in there, is Elminster around I know he's canonically been to Real Life Earth, would Van Helsing have some kind of tangent about how this has allegedly happened before, there's an implication that vampires aren't even Van Helsing's favorite cryptid what if d&d type elves are actually higher on that list and he knows all about them, is it even possible to put something resembling the plot and characters of Dracula into a D&D setting, what if I could make a Domain of Dread out of this–)

No matter what happened, Drizzt would be writing SO many diary entries which is perhaps the true main reason why he would survive, he's got that journaling and diary-keeping swag just like my good friend Jonathan Harker

(This is all assuming he has Guen because if he didn't have Guen he would wilt away of the Miseries. Might un-wilt specifically to save the baby and then re-wilt as soon as he remembered there's no kitty.)

[perpetuallyburntout]

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

[olderthannetfic]

sorry it didn't entirely occur to me that race play wasn't inherently racist. Guess I literally should've just googled that to see, flew over my head. Wasn't intending to be bait or whatever, I was genuinely confused what goes too far in fiction or not, since you could write practically anything including immoral stuff. It was hard to wrap my head around and entirely forgot POC could write stuff that would be considered racist if a white person did it. My bad I understand the reasoning now. Again sorry was genuinely just curious cuz I'm not a "professional" in what's right or not (I usually follow the majority to determine what's right, I'm a sheep, my biggest fear is to be offensive in any way so I try to listen to people who know their stuff and follow), terms and complicated words (at least complicated to me) tend to go over my head. Perhaps I should've used a tonetag to show I was being genuine in my response and meant to be curious and not to harm. I apologize sorry for making you mad have a nice day/night afternoon :) I really appreciate the work you put in this blog, it's very informational for me

--

Oh god. You're in earnest? Well, in that case, you were doing a pitch-perfect imitation of the people you've been reading, and those people are annoying.

--

It's fiction. Who cares what's in it?

The thing that makes it matter is how the fiction is disseminated and the whole context around it. For example, media aimed at young children is held to higher standards because four-year-olds often aren't that competent at telling fiction from reality or understanding that depiction isn't endorsement.

Mainstream US TV shows have millions of viewers. If they reinforce mainstream unconscious prejudices, that tends to encourage the audience to continue unchecked in those beliefs.

Weird niche porn or fanfic on AO3 have tiny audiences, often deal with things that are already contentious, and are labeled as non-mainstream in the first place by their very nature.

"But what if people write immoral fiction?" is itself an unethical position. It is the domain of the religious right, radfems, and other assholes who believe in thought crimes.

Yes, sheep do follow these people. This is an unethical behavior, but it is common.

The tyranny of the majority is not a good thing. The fact that a large number of people on social media say that such-and-such makes them feel gross is not an excuse for them to tell a smaller group with "gross" tastes what they're allowed to do in their own circles. Lots of people are horny over weird shit. This is fine.

The fear of ever offending anyone is a prison that will cause you to make bad choices.

Genuine harm is bad, but lots of people are offended at the drop of a hat. Yes, this goes for nonwhite people too, and it definitely goes for idiots white knighting in fandom spaces and going "You can't write X about characters of color! You can't write Y! Everything is problematic!"

As has been discussed on here many times, a lot of fans, including nonwhite fans, find that kind of behavior stifling to the point where they can't write about those characters at all. The response is often a huffy "Well, they shouldn't feel like that." But they do feel like that. It's not on purpose. Most people feel like that, to be honest. Living in a fishbowl has a chilling effect on art just like being afraid of offending paralyzes you yourself.

Offensiveness is highly dependent on context. Not only will it vary with your cultural background, but a great writer can handle material and make it feel nuanced, while a crummy writer will fall flat on their face with the same material.

If we are too precious about "Nobody should ever offend anyone", we're calling for all fans to publicly disclose their demographic and for all fans to be extremely skilled. Pity the poor, dumb teenager who just wants to write about their black blorbos because they are black themselves... and a shitty writer... who likes sex pollen.

If you look again, you will notice that a lot of fandom drama around offensiveness boils down to "You have a rape kink and that's not okay".

The bottom line, anon, is that fandom has a bullying problem. The internet has a bullying problem. People who are too scared to have their own stance on what's offensive or what's correct behavior are easily weaponized in bullying campaigns. This is the problem with being a sheep. You'll reblog shit saying "Well, I'm not sure, but this sounds important..." and then it turns out to be a smear campaign. Or maybe you personally won't do that, but you will stay silent when you should speak out.

Doing the right thing often involves offending people.

Look, anon, I've been canceled before for supposedly being "fandom's worst racist", and yet there are a bunch of fans of color in my comments section because they're tired of prissy jackasses who won't ever expose themselves by having an opinion, think it's more important to never be wrong than to have a conversation and risk changing their minds, who think only one very specific, very American, and very era/platform/fandom-specific standard is okay, and who hate on kinky fanfic day in and day out.

--

To interact with other humans is to risk offending someone. Yes, I think it's on all of us to at least recognize extremely blatant racist stereotypes, but that doesn't mean agreeing with every single moron who walks up and goes "I had a yucky feeling, and now that's your problem."

A lot of this pearl clutching makes one think of that line from Cold Comfort Farm:

"I saw something nasty in the woodshed!"

The matriarch of the family took to her bed years ago, claiming to have been prostrated by the sight of some unnamed horror (in context, probably people fucking). For years, she has used this supposed ~harm~ to bully and control the rest of the family.

Fandom is also full of this behavior lately. "Other people's fiction made me shake and cry!!!" is not actual harm. It is, at best, people who are genuinely upset but who need to take it up with a mental health professional. Very often, however, it is shitty, manipulative, abusive behavior that is entirely intentional. Do not fall for it.

Some people are just children and need to be told "No."

[campbyler]

our chapters average at 27,000 words, the total fic length is already 3x the average novel length, and we lost one of the authors working on this fic. it must be so nice to only have to endure the wait for a chapter to be uploaded so that you can interact with it rather than being the one to actually write it.

im going to be cruel (no pun intended) to be kind: this is such an intense externalisation of blame. you are the ones in control of the fic length; the chapters could handle some heavy editing and it wouldnt make them any less wonderful (such as regarding the descriptions of mike and will's internal thoughts, not the action between the characters themselves). fic is free and its a gift to be able to read works that inspire our hearts and minds while we wait for the show, but then again, when at the stern of a juggernaut work such as this, one that will inevitably have many followers chomping at the bit on tumblr as well as ao3 (as you designed it to have!), you surely must be aware of something that only usually exists in professional marketing spaces involving customers + brand IP: the relationship between consumer and creator, and what they can give each other.

not 'owe each other' - nothing is owed, except perhaps basic human kindness. fans want your work, and its free, so we should be grateful; likewise, you want readers, feedback and clicks, and that should be free, too. but in order for this to work smoothly, there has to be fair give and take. i mean, if you wanted to monetize the fic i'm sure many people would pay to read it, but thats beside the point here.

what fans of this fic simply want is the same honesty and self-awareness from you that they might expect from any artist who has embarked on such am ambitious project. and this doesnt just mean transparency about potential uploading dates (which is already much appreciated by the majority!), or notifications about how hard it is to balance work and life (something most people on the planet struggle with). it means total honesty and hard answers. people like to know where they stand. plenty of writers (both professional and fan alike) abandon works for months, years at a time, and if the work is THAT good, people will always be thrilled to see a return. it's the mucking people about that is what destroys relationships - no matter how good your reasons are.

your fic is wonderful and very, very memorable. you could take a big, undefined hiatus and people would, im sure, return, including me. seeing you admit that you have been prioritizing this fic over your mental health does not inspire confidence either, or even comfort - do i want to read something that has caused the creator such harm?

i think everything about this process would be happier for everyone if you set boundaries that work for you and didn't place blame elsewhere. after all, as you said, it's just a fanfic. it doesnt matter if you don't finish it. it doesnt matter if it takes all the way to s5 for 10.2 to release. everyone would, though, appreciate you taking a stance and being consistent (and therefore fair) to both yourselves and the readers.

please feel free to not post this publicly or do as you wish with it.

hello! thank you for your feedback and for sharing it in a way that is both kind and respectful. you make many valid points that i agree with -- we are in control of the word counts and could stand to edit down more, and we do recognize where being transparent about the reasons behind the chapter delays might not inspire confidence or comfort. i do, however, think that isolating one response/chain of responses to a particular ask is a little unfair, so i'd like to provide additional context.

i do not think that it's fair to say that we haven't been honest, self-aware, or fair, because we have been incredibly transparent throughout the entire run of the fic (over a year) about our writing process. just last month suni said she hadn't been working on 10.2 at all because abby had been visiting her house, and readily took ownership of that fact. there was a 4-month wait between chapters 9.1 and 9.2, and i was very open about the fact that i simply needed a break for at least the first of those months because i didn't want to write it. we have continued to maintain several times that we are not abandoning the fic, even if it takes longer between chapters, and have tried to stay as active as possible on the blog because we know that seeing us interact with asks Does inspire confidence. if you just scroll down and see how we have answered other asks inquiring about the upload, we responded kindly and respectfully.

what you interpreted as externalization of blame in that one (1!) ask response was me trying to provide perspective to someone who clearly lacked it. we understand that people will be frustrated about chapter delays, especially if we keep pushing them back, and this is also something that we have received feedback about before and tried to implement; however, it is also a double-edged sword where if we don't give an estimated upload, people get upset, or we give an estimated upload that we think is completely reasonable for us to achieve and then hurdles get in the way, whether it's writer's block or work or time with friends. i absolutely get the frustration on the receiving end, but something i have learned from being in this fandom for two years is that a pretty big majority of those who are interacting with fanworks are not creating it themselves, hence why my response -- while snippy and annoyed, because i was matching the energy, and will not apologize for that -- was contextualizing the whys behind the chapter delay: the chapters are long, the fic is long, we are down one entire body from where we started. the intention was not to shuck blame off of ourselves, but i get that intentions don't always translate into effect, so it's understandable that it was received differently.

we don't always respond to things perfectly. when we have a million and one asks inquiring about the next upload, one stray one that comes off the wrong way is likely going to set us off, because we are people, and this is not a job. we have set a boundary by disabling anon, and again, i cannot stress enough how much i appreciate that you've come to us with this feedback off-anon and with respect and decency. i get where you are coming from and again, agree with a lot of your points.

the only other thing i want to make clear is that this fic, no matter how much attention its garnered, should not be treated as a creator/consumer relationship that mirrors anything where the exchange of money is involved. not only is it unfair to apply this standard to fanworks, where it is illegal to monetize such content, but the entire purpose of fanworks is to celebrate what you are a fan of together. when you apply expectations on either end -- i am a fan of this work, therefore, people should create timely content for it; i am creating this fanwork, therefore, people should interact with it -- defeats the entire nature of fan-created work as a whole. while we have continued to be vocally grateful for the love and support our fic has been shown, we both maintain that we would continue writing and continue uploading even if we were getting less than half of the amount of interaction that we do. it's nice to have interaction, but not necessary, because we what write and post is done because we love it, and it's shared so that we can look back on it, so our friends can enjoy it, and anyone else who might want to. we are, of course, excited to share that world with anyone who cares -- we created the blog and the promo because we wanted to share it -- but that does not mean that the relationship between us and our readers should have expectations. we are all creating and enjoying this work for free for the sake of love for the characters, as the star trek obsessed housewives of the 60s (and the law) have intended.

i feel like this response is a bit jumbled so i apologize if anything isn't clear or hard to understand. thank you again for your time!

[marknee]

bts fanfics i think shakespeare and queen elizabeth i would’ve gossiped about.

chapter ii. ✷ chapter iv.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — you can’t lie, shakespeare’s got a mouth on him.

( ♬ ) — they’ve ordered everyone out the room. peering through the window as we speak.

( ✎ ) — someone tell him to put that poor teacup down.

( ♛ ) — her majesty royally gasped. she’s clutching her pearls, bless her.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: we’re on part three already? damn, times flies. if you’re new here, welcome to the shakespeare series where i write essays about fics that would absolutely annihilate shakespeare — hence the name. if you haven’t read the past two chapters, you can access them in the masterlist above! let’s get into it.

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( ♛ ) MATILDA — by @babystrcandy

!! yoongi x reader | 141.8k !!

brothers best friend au, angst, fluff, eventual smut.

my therapist would absolutely adore this fanfic. maybe i should recommend it to her. or just send her the link. she’d be thrilled.

this series is dedicated to anyone who felt like the second choice, the one always forgotten about, the so-called disappointment, the people pleaser, the perfectionist, the one whose family has let them down over and over again.

reading this, alike reading anything else, transports you to another world. however, the difference between this one and all others, is this makes you feel safe. secure. a safe place. a sanctuary you never realised even existed, where you feel accepted and loved. it takes the idea of home and really drills it in.

if you find yourself relating to this story, like i did, i want to you to know i see you and i truly hope one day you find everything you were deprived of growing up. you deserve peace. you deserve love.

while you’re at it, go give this author some love for seeing us, listening to us, and validating our experiences. and for writing such a beautiful story.

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( ♬ ) DILF JK — by @venusiangguk

!! jungkook x reader | 85.5k !!

strangers to lovers, dad!jk, friends with benefits, smut (18+), fluff.

if some army’s weren’t such delulu’s and so consumed by the imaginary idea that they’ll one day marry a bts member and live happily ever after, this is the type of shit we’d actually get. but no, we’re forever plagued by fiction because of a few overly obsessed wankers.

rant aside, dilf!jk is a concept. one that needs to be studied and researched for my own personal needs. because i thought dilf!namjoon was dangerous (and he most certainly is), but dilf!jk is a whole other… thing? being? story? i’ll leave that to the researchers.

personally, i love when authors mould fiction and reality into one body. they blend the two concepts together to create something beautiful, and this was duly noted within the topic of the age gap. deciding on something real for the benefit of both parties in a fictional story is so fucking applaudable. or perhaps i’m just an angsty fucker, sorry.

most definitely worth all the tissues and all the cheek aching. talking from experience.

i mean, it’s got ‘dilf’ in the title, is that not enough? it’s what made me click, anyways. i’m a dilf lover through and through.

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( ♬ ) A SERPENT’S FLOWER — by @jimlingss & @dovechim

!! jimin x reader | 34.2k !!

fluff, smut (18+), lil angst, hogwarts!au.

realistically, you knew at some point in this series there would be a harry potter!au thrown in somewhere, didn’t you? i mean, come on now. and i’m so happy this is the first one.

this two-parter and it’s sequel both are both due the respect they deserve. the perfect opposites attract trope? enemies to lovers? with a quick-witted slytherin reader and an even wittier hufflepuff park jimin? fuck me, don’t mind if i do.

i never say a fanfic has everything. but this fanfic has everything. character, romance, humour, angst, wit, the list goes on. it’s a fanfic buffet: it’s got it all, and you just help yourself.

and i realise some people don’t read the sequels to fanfics (i know), but i beg of you. read the sequel too. if anything, i think the sequel was my favourite bit. and i know some people don’t like the pregnancy trope, but i’m telling you there definitely is a time and place for it. and this is the time! and the place! trust me.

did i cry at the end of this fic? i can’t remember. but the probability is higher than i’d like it to be.

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( ✮ ) ZERO GRAVITY — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x hoseok x reader | 11k !!

space!au, poly!au, angst, smut (18+), crack, fluff.

if someone doesn’t drop me on a spaceship with two of the hottest men on the planet in the next fortnight, i’m suing. don’t know who that’ll be yet, but some poor sod will have his hands full, that’s for certain.

i love space!au fics with my whole heart and ass. honestly, every time one comes up on my page, i have to save it. it’s a reflex at this point, they’re just too good. you know what is also too good? the built up tension within this fic. jaw-dropping.

i’m not giving out any spoilers, but the author really said, bonk— here is the nastiest smut you’ve ever read in your life. take it, or get fucked. and of course, i took it. but nothing really prepares you for that atmosphere change. not even the sex club was remotely ready. and it’s a sex club.

not going to lie, before writing this essay, i actually went back and read it again, just to make sure i was in the right mind the first time i read it. and yep, sure was. it’s just shocking how insane this fic is.

btw, anyone fancy a visit to throbbing disco sticks? i need a word with the person who came up with the name. and perhaps a kiss too.

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( ✎ ) NO CHOICE (NEXT TO YOU) — by @gukyi

!! yoongi x reader | 13k !!

college!au, frat boy!au, neighbour!au, enemies to lovers.

miscommunication. my lover in fanfics, my worst enemy in real life. hence why i love this fic so much. because it’s not real life. (unfortunately).

we’ve all done that thing where we’ve accidentally eavesdropped onto something we shouldn’t of and one thing leads to another and boom, you find yourself misreading the whole situation. and you’re lying if you say you haven’t.

well, that’s this fic for you. times a thousand. honestly, enemies to lovers fics never do me wrong. they’re always a joy to read — the thrill and the very, very prominent sexual tension keeps you excited, waiting on the edge of your seat to see how everything plans out.

my point? this fic never bores you out. read it a thousand times and it still feels like the first. and not a lot of fanfics have that power, i’ll tell you that. a few, yes. but not a lot.

don’t take reading this for the first time for granted. wish i had that privilege. jealous.

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( ✎ ) THE PRINCE’S CINDERELLA SYNDROME — by @jimilter

!! jimin x reader | 39.4k !!

cursed!jimin, supernatural!au, strangers to lovers!au angst, smut, fluff.

this fic altered my brain chemistry permanently. there’s no going back. i’m officially ruined, you guys. i don’t even know who i was before i read this. it was just- bang, clean slate.

to begin with, i thought ‘this bitch saw him twice and her knees buckled. what the fuck.’ but then i realised that bitch is me, and the so-called him is referring to thee park jimin, so really. i got it. who wouldn’t absolutely power move it after seeing such a sight? i might just jog a little. sprint on a good day.

i would happily write a five thousand word essay for you on how fucking good this plot slash idea was, and an additional ten thousand on how sad, but i don’t think my fingers— nor my mental state would be able to go through that. not again. please.

but as i mentioned in the last fic above, do not take reading this for the first time for granted. however, only because you will lose all rationality.

shakespeare most definitely plagiarised this fic. he wrote it down and her majesty knows. that’s why he looked so proud of himself at tea. the sneaky fucker. just he wait until i tell @jimilter.

sobbing. again. or is this the fourth time?

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( ✎ ) ALWAYS IN MY DREAMS — by @kookskingdom

!! namjoon x reader | 15.4k !!

soulmates!au, fluff, angst, minor character death.

i mean, i already sleep too fucking much. only being able to meet my soulmate through my dreams would just make me comatose. you’d never hear from me. ever.

and yes, you saw the tag. it’s another soulmate!au because everyone knows how much nini loves her hopeless romance. but! who doesn’t. they’re too good to scroll past. so when i finally read this, i knew it was going in the series.

the unknown certainty between the pair of when their next encounter would be with each other, causing them to cherish every single second, that. that’s what i want please. someone who drinks up my existence knowing we will soon part from each other. i cannot.

i love, love, love the concept of soulmates, fate, destiny, whatever. the whole shabang. i bathe in it. so, of course, this fic was a big hit with me. and if that too is your thing, and you love the idea of two souls being intwined inside and out, this is your golden ticket.

@kookskingdom is mentioned in this chapter twice. but can you blame me? you find a ticket to the chocolate factory, of course you’re going to hold onto it as tightly as possible.

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( ✮ ) VOICEMAIL — by @joonary

!! seokjin x reader | 7k !!

fluff, humour, friends to lovers, college podcast!au.

you know those dramas where both the two main characters are so completely smitten with each other to the point you’re practically screaming at your screen for them to “just kiss already!” but won’t because they’re hopelessly oblivious, even though everyone is telling them how in love they both are? yeah, that’s this fic. in a nutshell.

though in their defence, i feel i would definitely do the same. but still, does it stop me from getting frustrated with them? no. i was absolutely raging.

this cute story was so, so sweet i was practically clutching the phone for an emergency appointment to the dentist. my teeth were rotting with all the added sugar, like hello? my teeth? but just like chocolate is, it’s addicting. and you can’t stop yourself.

perhaps i’m just a sucker for friends to lovers fics, but this one particularly caught my attention. it’s 5k of pure infuriation, and 2k of fluff.

but so worth the impatience.

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( ♬ ) FALL IN HATRED — by @jimlingss

!! seokjin x reader | 20k !!

divorce!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+), marriage!au.

first bullet point is just the thought of fuck me, ‘cause where do i start with this?

separation — in some ways — is the easy way out. you just get up and leave. walk out, whatever. boom, just like that. but the emotional repercussions are what make it so distressing. making that daunting decision to leave something— someone in our past, may be one of the hardest things we humans ever have to do.

this fic goes through the rough battle of what it means to be committed to a person. the battles of finally giving up on someone you once thought the world of. and honestly? that may be my worst fear. for someone to love me so deeply, and then lose that over time to see me as nothing more than an inconvenience of their past.

never been through divorce. hopefully you, nor i, will ever have to. but after reading this, i don’t think we have to experience it.

this amazing, yet painfully angsty fic does it for us. and a fucking incredible ending.

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( ♛ ) THE ROAD TO RADIANT — by @kookskingdom

!! jungkook x reader | 25.9k !!

gamer!au, streamer!au, fluff, angst, smut, rivals to friends to lovers!au.

this got a crown on the shakespeare state chart purely for the fact i have never played valorant in my life, and single-handedly managed to impress my friends — who are obsessed with said game — about my newfound knowledge of gaming, purely from this fic alone. felt like a fucking genius.

i was going to add this to part four, but i genuinely had to swap some fics around to put this baby in. i found space for her, so she’s here. and deservedly so. why wait?

this fic does a very good job of highlighting the deep misogyny and sexism that runs within the gaming community towards women. like, can women not be good at gaming too? do people really believe gaming is purely a man thing? is this really the society we live in? yikes.

and if you do happen to read this fic and reach that argument scene with jungkook, please let me know. i want you to know i, too, was absolutely fuming. phones were thrown. naughty words were said. angry voice messages to said best friend were recorded.

final special mention for the smut scene. had me sweating like a sinner in church. lord have mercy.

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( ♬ ) BRASS AND STRINGS — by @jimlingss

!! namjoon x reader | 113.7k !!

slice of life!au, fluff, slow burn, college!au, music!au.

take a shot every time this author is mentioned within this series. you’ll end up blackout pissed. it’s a shame they left this platform, but i hope they’re doing well. their fics have really left an impact on me. and i’ll forever be grateful.

ah, yes. the cheesy clichéd trope of the mean girl and the nerd. a mix of two completely different personalities and flavours that supposedly fit together like two broken pieces of a puzzle. the very foundation of a 2000’s romcom. an iconic pairing that has been hammered into us by the media since day one.

it’s the opposites attract that lured me in initially, but it’s the character development throughout the story that nestled itself into my heart, and got me to stay. this fic holds dear to me still.

i have gatekept this fic long enough, and i am trusting you to bear it with love and extreme care. like you’re holding a small, fragile baby in your arms. do not let me down. please.

one more thing, don’t share this with shakespeare. every time he’s brought it up, i’ve told him it was a really weird dream and he’s only just started to believe me. yes, i feel shit about it, but it has to be done. the man’s a menace.

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( ✮ ) TANGLED WEBS — by @ughseoks

!! jungkook x reader | 14.1k !!

spiderman!au, soulmate!au (yup), angst, fluff.

if any of you say a word about the second tag, i will fight. i will never stop recommending them. me and the soulmates!au are soulmates. irony at its finest.

i genuinely wish spidey!jk was a real adaptation. because even though andrew is my favourite spiderman, i fear there is a large difference between the pair that separates them. andrew can play peter parker. jungkook can (re: could) play peter parker. but could andrew play jungkook? no.

in this fic, the whole characterisation of both jungkook as spiderman and the soulmate!reader is so well written. you can perfectly picture jungkook being that awkward high school boy by day, and secret superhero vigilante by night. i mean, fuck me. how is he not knackered all the time?

mixing in that final zest of soulmates!au everyone (re: me) loves, you’ve got yourself a hell of a plot line.

romeo and juliet were not soulmates, shakespeare. they were children. why aren’t you taking notes? stop talking to the queen. she’s tired of all your bullshit. and so are we.

© marknee, 2023. all rights reserved.

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[cvlutos]

EVEN IF WE AREN'T SOULMATES, I LOVE YOU!!

✦ | 08.12.2023 | —K | PG

✦ | Leona Kingscholar X GN!Reader |

✦ | Characters 18+ | Fluff | Poems | Soulmates | Slight Angst | Etc. |

✦ | A/N: Slowly trying to ease myself back into writing fanfic, with this. Perhaps work on some AU stuff or Yan!Kalim and OCs, but lemme start off slow |

Perhaps I’ve already met my soulmate and loved them as much as one could love.

Like wilting flowers that blossom then fade into nothing, unable to remain within his palms and turns into bitter sand. I loved them with my everything. They were mine and mine alone. My soulmate. With a love so passionate and so burning, everything that could be so right, was right. And arguments just as heated, yet filled with so much love and desire that the fight turned into nothing between heated kisses.

A soulmate with an expiration date.

There is no doubt that they were my soulmate… His hands shove into pockets and angry goodbyes are given, tears unshed until alone, anger that fizzled into heartache. He sighs, blowing out a puff of hot air. Days molding into months, and months into years. Dates that lead to nowhere and paths that truly had no meaning.

Perhaps he’ll move on.. Maybe one day, in every person he meets he’ll stop trying to find his soulmate in those new faces. Stop searching for their features, their laugh, their humor, their everything. Maybe he'll let go of the love he lost, and find something—someone to stop his desperate search for a piece he lost and can never get back.

“Leona.”

You call his name, your voice so clear and true, so different yet so enjoyable that the lion beastman eyes flutter open, awake from his nap. You are so different from them, for if they are loud, you are silent, and if they were silent, you were loud. He thought he’d never find love in you. Someone who shares no resemblance, no traits, nothing that existed within his soulmate. You are you, and they are them.

He lets out a yawn, rolling onto his side to watch you talk about whatever you wanted, moving around your shared bedroom with familiarity. Picking through his clothes that he laid haphazardly when he got undressed, tossing them into the hamper without bothering to look. Actions you've done before several times. He watches you walk, the sound of your feet pressing against the cold floors—floors you often complain about whenever you get up. There’s an invisible smile across his lips, so very familiar with this scene, to the point everyday he looks forward to it. Waiting eagerly to hear your voice, to watch you go on about your day as a silent observer.

I’ve already met my soulmate and loved them as much as one could love. He calls your name, tearing your gaze from the bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth and toothpaste decorating your lips. You give a muffled ‘yes’ and the lion beastman can’t help but laugh under his breath, whatever he planned to say, he keeps it to himself. He finds love in the little moments—the simplicity that came without a rush, something he never enjoyed before.

There is no doubt that they were my soulmate…

Yet you. So different and unique you. There is no timer, no race to make every moment memorable, no chance that you’ll leave him. This is not fleeting. Your hugs do not hold fear nor restraint that one day you might not hold him again. Your eyes stare so openly honest and hold no hint of regret. There is no end.

In truth, it is a interesting thing. I loved them with my everything. And they loved me with their everything.. but what if I was nothing...

Sometimes he is nothing. Several feet from where he wants to be, from where he should be—when I am nothing, you will love me. I know you will.

And together we are something.

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[nocturnowlette]

i'm sorry if this is weird or overstepping or something, but i truly think you're, like, the best person to ask this: i want to write a story (a fanfic) about someone discovering hypnosis through a dare in twitch chat at age, like, 30 or 40. & am having trouble imagining how to write someone in that circumstance who is properly Affected by that first file, or at least affected enough to become Intrigued, because my experience is one of watching tons and tons of youtube videos out of an entirely private, mysticism-powered Interest with a capital I in my early teens that, over months, gradually made me susceptible enough to trance for me to start having, like. preferences. and it's taken literal years for it to become something that's able to make me lose focus immediately or at least quickly upon starting a file. not that i want this guy to be dropping IMMEDIATELY, but i just don't know how to get in the head of someone who already IS susceptible to a significant degree; my own experience is so predicated on conditioning via loads of very, very, very ineffective and bad files before i found anything good. & another complication is that i want this guy (who is definitely whimsical enough to try it once for the fun of it regardless of how much of his ordinary audience would be even mildly interested, so at least i don't have to get Over Half The Audience to be Immediate Converts as well) to start having, like, a dedicated weekly stream for hypnosis, which means finding both both a) good and b) sfw shit fast. sth further complicated by the fact that i want him to meet a Romantic-Slash-Kink Interest through said interest's hypno files. this is all really niche and complex and i'm sorry again if this is wayyy out of your wheelhouse, you just seem like the best-knowledgeable and approachable person on the internet for this. um. i've never been a puppy but ur Feel Like A Puppy script was incredible i loved it so much & def reading again at some point. <3. ily

I'm imagining a scene where this person gets a donation message asking if they could try hypnosis or just "try something" on them.

I won't try to come up with specifics for how the trance should go, but I think heaviness should be the main thing that the hypnotist focuses on; and, importantly, the hypnotist doesn't anticipate how susceptible the streamer is either (they're amateurish and improve in the story with time).

And so, while the suggestions keep coming, with thoughts slowing and their body relaxing, the streamer seems to stop speaking at all. And then, they finally get the Drop command after setting it up...

Slam!

They lose control of their body so hard that they lean forward and hit their head on the desk, waking up instantly and having trouble understanding what happened! ^v^

It'd be best if they felt a bit confused and scared (maybe even turning the livestream off right after), but then... over time... feeling that itch. They didn't understand what happened, but their mind is so curious for it (perhaps you could slip in the mildest obsession or addiction suggestion if you want to fuel this, but I think without it would be great).

So then... they shoot the person a message. The story goes from there.

Also, you could make this streamer Jerma if you want. I could definitely see this happening to him.

[clip-the-simp]

Not Much Else [Pt.2]

Ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,233

Warnings: burning, cannibalism, canon typical violence, swearing, slight angst, unwanted touch (not from The Ghoul), (I’m bad at warning tags so just let me know if I need/should to add some)

Tags: Mild Proofreading, eventual smut (if I can get the balls to write it), reader had bat wings, Bounty Hunting, deviation from TV show, pre!show events(?), (Again I'm bad at tags so let me know)

Summary: You're a vault experiment that makes it to the surface. Quickly you learn the lay of the land and a few years later end up working the same bounty as The Ghoul. You convince him to let you take a long after having a feeling that you just had to follow him. Where will this story lead? Only time (and my motivation) will tell.

A/N: This is part 2 to the cringy ass shit I call a fanfic. Be forewarned that this is going to be incredibly inaccurate to cannon events and really unrealistic honestly. But listen. If Lucy can have her finger zapped back on and working properly anything can happen.

The pair of you had been traveling for two days by the time you caught wind of the target's whereabouts. After stopping at several towns to get supplies and information, you had been pointed east, away from the coast. He was trying to get over the mountains, or what remained of them, in order to get as far out of town as possible.

Once knowing this, The Ghoul and yourself continued on. Not much had been said in the two days of traveling together. You didn’t take The Ghoul for much of a talker so you kept your thoughts to yourself in hopes of not disturbing his peace. Most of your time was spent pondering over that feeling that continued to linger.

The familiarity from before continued to pluck at your thoughts the more you took in The Ghoul’s demeanor. Surely he couldn’t be someone from your past. There was no way someone could live over a hundred years, but maybe there was. With some of the other people and creatures you had encountered, maybe there was a possibility. This world was odd like that, and you had heard that The Ghoul was a lot older than most. So just maybe he was someone you truly recognize, however the wasteland changes people. Let alone someone who had been doing this for over a century.

So one night after you had settled at the ruins of a worn gas station and started to fix a meal, you decided to pry. It was a difficult situation. You couldn't be too blunt or he would quickly shut you down. However you couldn't tiptoe too much or he would get agitated and again shut you down.

Having managed to haggle some ingredients off someone at the market in the last town you were in, it could make for a good bargaining point with The Ghoul. Perhaps if you gave him a good meal he would loosen up a bet to talk. You had been contemplating the proper way to ask your questions the whole time you sat over the pot of stew. So when the food was done, you spooned out a bowl full of the stew for The Ghoul and waited a moment before to ask your questions.

“So, how long have you been wastelanding?” You started, making a bowl for yourself and blowing on it lightly to cool it off. The Ghoul was already a few bites in before dividing to take the chance of prying for information, and when you did he stopped momentarily to stare at you. His shoulders straightened as the bowl in his hands lowered to his lap.

“Why y’asking?” He asked bluntly as his expression stayed stone cold. The blood in your veins felt cooler than before as your gaze left his to reside on the bowl in your hands.

“I-” You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to scare him off. However, you could feel The Ghoul’s gaze burning into you as you searched for an answer. Against your better judgment, you decided to be upfront.

“I just have this feeling that I know you is all. Maybe that’s why I wanted to follow you in the first place.” Your eyes rose to meet The Ghoul’s once again only to find his expression to no longer be cold but instead a bit sorrowful. However that moment was brief as he asked you another question.

“What makes y’think that?” His voice was not as harsh as it usually was. It was as if he was trying to remember, just as you were, who you could’ve been to him in a past life. That sudden change in him sent a pinged of pain through your heart. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for making him recall the old life he once had.

“Your demeanor just reminds me of a man I once knew.” You said. Setting your bowl to the side, you remove the goggles from your eyes only now realizing they still lingered on your face even after the sun had fallen. Your gaze lingered on them for a while before you began to speak again.

“He was popular in western films back in the day and I had the pleasure of Co-starring in a few films with him. He was a good man which wasn’t too surprising.” You chuckled to yourself as you remember the time you had tripped over the bottom of the costume dress you were wearing on set. Cooper Howard had caught you mid fall and the two of you joked about it a bet after.

“It’s funny now that I think about it. If I placed you two side by side there wouldn't actually be much that y’all have in common. Maybe the cowboy physique but that's about it.” When you looked back up, The Ghoul’s gaze was trained on you. It was full of mixed emotions that were balancing sadness and anger. Guilt settled itself low in your chest as you realized perhaps you had gone too far. Picking your bowl up, you quickly raised it to your lips and started to drink some of it. Hoping to relieve some of the tension in the air.

“I’ve been doing this shit for over 100 years. The waste land changes people.” The Ghoul finally answered your question. His voice was still angry but the somber undertone didn't go unnoticed. As the two of you continued to sit in silence, the man sitting across from you, past the fire, spoke.

“I’ll take first watch.” The Ghoul grumbled as he finished his soup and went to spoon the last of the stew into his bowl. A worry he was going to leave in your sleep crossed your mind and as you began to voice your concern he spoke before you.

“I’m not gonna leave y’stranded. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. So sleep.” The Ghoul growled the last bet which caught you off guard but definitely got the point across. You leaned against a rusted gas pump while pulling your wings over your arms and partially over your legs. It never took you long to fall asleep, but the guilt from hurting your traveling companion lingered. You wanted to make it right but reasoned you could mend things while traveling again tomorrow.

An abrupt crash caused you to wake up with a start, but before you could get your bearings, there was a heavy weight on you that hadn't been there before. It had you pinned to the ground as your senses came back to you and you realized it was a raider. The fire was still blazing which allowed you to see the man on top of you clearly. He was barking orders to his group which you weren’t coherent enough to make out.

“Get off me!” You shouted as you squirmed to fight against the man’s hold on you, the ground digging into your back. Your pulse pounding in your ears as panic washed over you. How had they gotten the jump on us? Your eyes frantically looked for The Ghoul only to see him lying face down in the sand. It was far too dark and you were in far too much of a panic to focus on if he was breathing or not.

“Aren’t you a pretty sight?” The raider leader said as he leaned down and ran his tongue up the side of your neck to your ear. At that moment instinct kicked in as you turned your head and bit down into the raider’s cheek when he was pulling away. Your teeth, having been abnormally sharp canines, beat through the flesh with ease and left a large hole in his face. The chunk of meat was left in your mouth as he jerked back in pain and held his face.

Taking that opportunity you got out from under the man but quickly yanked him up as you went to promptly throw him in the fire. His screams as he hit the flames alerted his group who quickly pulled out their weapons to attack. The fire was being smothered by the man writhing in it which put your opponents at a disadvantage. You spat out the flesh that remained in your mouth and beard your teeth, now stained with blood. Most of the raiders carried knives and close ranged weapons which only put them at an even greater disadvantage, as long as you stayed out of range.

You pulled out the pistol holstered at your thigh as you aimed and fired the first round. The bullet landed square in the chest of the raider closest to where The Ghoul laid motionless. As the body fell the other two charged in your direction which you quickly ducked away from and led them out from under the gas station canopy. They quickly followed suit as they chased after you. Not wanting to take a chance of them ripping your wings you stayed nimble on your feet.

Firing off another two rounds, one landed in the thigh of the farthest while the second lodged in the shoulder of the other. They continued to come after you which led to the last fatal two shots fired, but not before the one closest to you managed to swipe his blade across your forearm and leave a trail of blood running down your arm.

You quickly applied pressure to the wound as the bodies fell and you ran over to The Ghoul’s side. The man in the fire was no longer a threat and was burned bloody. Examining The Ghoul you realized he was still alive, but saw a bruise beginning to form on the back of his head. The raiders must’ve been hiding out and waiting.

What had The Ghoul so distracted he didn’t see them? You thought to yourself as you sat up. Rummaging through your bag you looked for your med kit to wrap your arm. It was going to be hard to bandage the arm with only one hand to work with but you would make do.

The Ghoul had been out for the rest of the night which worried you as you kept watch for him to recover. However, when morning arrived he came too and in a bet of a panic at that. His weapon was immediately in his hand as he waved it around looking for the raiders. You had already taken care of the bodies and harvested whatever meat you could manage off of them along with any supplies they could’ve had.

“What happened?” The Ghoul demanded as he leaned back on the wall behind him. You had flipped him over while he was sleeping so he wouldn't be lying face down in the dirt all night. His demeanor and frantic actions had startled you a bet so had your hands raised in defense.

“Raiders must’ve been camping out and ambushed us in the middle of the night. I took care of them.” You lowered your hands as he returned his gun to its holster and rubbed the back of his head. Slowly, you brought forward a makeshift bag filled with the remains of the raiders. You took it upon yourself to dry out the meat last night as you kept watch, not wanting to fall back asleep by accident. The Ghoul raised an eyebrow as his gaze moved from the bag, to you, then to your bandaged forearm.

“I figured if you don’t want it, someone in the next town will.” You explained as realization slipped into The Ghoul’s expression. Tossing it over to him, he looked in the bag to find what he was expecting.

“Well look at that. Looks like y’have more uses than y’let on.” His voice was teasing as he wrapped the meat backup and found a place for him to carry it. The Ghoul stood as he checked his belongings. Soon after, stretching to relieve the ache in his body from being shuffled around while unconscious.

“I got a lot of talents if you’re looking to test my limits.” You chuckled lightly as you stood up from your spot near the burnt out fire. Gathering your belongings, you quickly stretched your wings before tucking them back under your jacket. Your eye’s met with The Ghoul’s which caused you to startle as you saw the expression it held. It wasn’t something you had seen on him before, but it looked almost hungry as he smirked at you.

He began to walk closer to you leading to you stepping back into the gas pump you had been sleeping on. Your eyes rose to hold The Ghoul’s stair as he leaned forward to your ear. Worry settled into your veins as you wondered if he could hear the pounding in your heart against your rib cage.

“Maybe I should, darlin.” He whispered before turning away and beginning to trek into the wasteland. A deep red plagued your face as you tried to get your bearings. Why did he do that? Was he trying to rile you up? No he couldn’t have been. Could he?

“Come on now! Don’t make me wait on y’.” You heard The Ghoul shout over his shoulder as you realized he was already far ahead of you. Quickly gathering your composure, and throwing your goggles over your eyes, you ran after him to catch up.

[shimmershy]

There's Only One Thing Left to Say, This Time (Undertale Fanfic)

New fanfic time! When I started writing this, I got the idea mostly because 1. I've been having trouble "moving on" from things in my own life recently and wanted to try processing it through fic and 2. it was the end of the school year for me and I had been saying a lot of goodbyes, so it felt thematically relevant. I wrote almost the entire thing impulsively at like three am a couple weeks ago and really impressed myself lol.

Chara Week Day 7: Free (I know it's over, but shhhh it still counts)

Summary:

You're having trouble saying goodbye, but the thing is that you don't have to! If you keep Resetting just before it's all over, you'll never have to be by yourself again. Right? You haven't known them long, and maybe they weren't super nice at the start, but they were there for you every step of the way. They listened to you and helped you when no one else would. You can't just let them disappear… You can't. ...But you can't keep doing this forever, Frisk. You have to let me go.

Characters: Chara and Frisk

Word count: 4,763 words

(Ao3 link in reblog!)

There's only one thing left to say this time,

I hope you're fine, goodbye.

– “Goodbye” by The Altogether

It isn’t until the third True Reset that I realize what this is all about, and when I do, I feel silly for not realizing it before.

I can still feel the way the bitterness worked its way under my skin the first time you brought everyone back. Which, is actually quite impressive on your part! Seeing as I don’t have skin anymore. I suppose it worked its way under your skin, then, because you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me in your head as you made your way through the Ruins. I should have been the one apologizing to you, Frisk. It’s no business of mine what you do with your own life, and you have no business feeling my emotions for me. This connection we have can be troubling, at times.

Still, it felt like a betrayal, and you offered me no explanation, so I could not understand.

I understood a little better when you decided to stay with Toriel for a while. Despite my obvious frustration and impatience, you sat and listened to her snail facts. You let her show you that bug-hunting spot she mentioned, and you spent time helping her run errands and letting her teach you how to cook. You even got to the point where she started giving you classes, as if you planned on staying. I assumed it was sentimentality, then. Perhaps there was something about the Underground that you didn’t want to leave behind. Maybe you weren’t ready to go back to living on the surface just yet. It’s not as if I could blame you for that one.

What I didn’t notice (and what I am noticing now), was how much attention you were giving me. And well, it’s not that I didn’t notice. I was just too busy being annoyed about it, and rightfully so. Can’t the narrator of your life narrate in peace? I do not care for superfluous conversation. And that’s not even the worst of it. Frisk, you should not be so casual about sharing control of your body, That’s like, the one thing you should never have to share. Sure, it happened one time, but I only stepped in because you were so afraid, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was me that the spears were getting shot at. That’s different. I will not take control of your body just to eat a slice of pie. Your pity for me is insulting.

What’s troubling is that it doesn't seem to be going away.

You take your first shivering step into Snowdin (for the fourth time, I can’t help but note) without so much as a glance behind you. This time, you left Toriel with no hesitation, and I know it’s because you know I didn’t want to stay. You’re not even trying to hide it. This is when I finally decide it’s time to confront you.

What are you doing? I ask.

“I’m…walking?” you respond, confused, through thoughts. Your boots crunch satisfyingly through the snow to prove your point. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I huff in frustration.

Frisk. Why do you keep Resetting?

This stops you (and your crunchy boots) in your tracks, and suddenly I can feel anxiety radiating off of you. You weren’t expecting me to ask you this directly.

When you don’t respond, I continue, a little bit of venom coating my words despite my best efforts. For the third time now, you have made it to the end, broken the barrier, only to start all over again. Do you not feel even the slightest bit of remorse?

“Of course I feel bad!” you’re quick to say, as if you’re surprised I would assume otherwise. “But…we’ll still get there again in the end; it’s not that big a deal.”

That’s a horrible excuse.

“Why’re you so angry about it?” Your voice comes out sharp in the frigid air.

Why are you so stubborn?

“What’re you even talking about?!”

You’re trying to delay the inevitable.

You’re about to debate me on that, too, in a defensive way rather than a genuinely angry way. But you stop, because you suddenly understand that I understand, and the anxiety returns. You continue walking after a brief hesitation.

Goodbyes are never easy, I say, as gently as I can. (It ends up sounding forced anyway.)

You ignore me, and I allow you to.

~~~

What are you going to do once you get back to the surface? Once you decide to stay?

You’ve made it to Waterfall at this point, having made it through Snowdin without much event. You’re getting a little tired of doing the same thing every time; I can tell, but you would never admit to it.

You kick a stone on the ground, watching as it disappears into the dark grass. “I dunno.” (“I dunno-”) (“-dunno-”)

Your own voice travels around you in echoes and fragments. You really shouldn’t talk out loud like this in the middle of all these echo flowers. Number one, it’s annoying, and that should be reason enough, but number two, you shouldn’t make a habit of talking out loud to the voice in your head at all. People are going to think you’re weird. And I mean, you’re already pretty weird, but do you really want the reputation of “the weird kid who talks to themself” stuck to you even after I’m gone?

I didn’t even realize you were listening to all that, but you flinch at that last part, not only mentally but physically too, and I try to ignore the fact that you’re proving my point.

I hum thoughtfully. You “don’t know”? That’s certainly an issue then, isn’t it?

You start to fidget with the hem of your sweater and return to talking to me through thoughts, much to my relief. “I just haven’t thought much about it.”

This is a lie. But I don’t point that out to you.

You’re in a part of Waterfall that you’ve never seen before. Admittedly, it’s not much different to the parts you have seen before, but the fact that it’s new at all is good enough for you. You’re trying to explore the area as much as you can this time around, because you’ve realized just how expansive Waterfall really is and the curiosity you came here with the first time still hasn’t left you. You’ve barely seen a fraction of the place, and you definitely won’t manage to see all of it, but you’re certainly going to try.

I might take this time to remind you that no matter how many times you’ve befriended her in the past, Undyne is still hunting you down in this timeline. So maybe taking the time to look at every blade of grass there is to look at isn’t the best idea. But whatever.

There are quite a few echo flowers growing in this area, as I mentioned before. It seems more secluded than the rest of the caverns that make up Waterfall, if that’s even possible. You can see the main path you usually walk from where you’re standing, separated from you by a large expanse of luminescent cyan water, and an overwhelming sense of calm washes over you. It’s like this is a little cove carved out just for you, safe from everything that may hurt you. It’s hard for me not to feel the same sense of calm. Whether it’s just the spilling over of your emotions or completely and entirely mine is hard to tell, but it doesn’t really matter.

Why don’t we sit here for a minute? I ask. You let out a breath and descend to the ground, hugging your knees and resting your head against the rough cavern walls without hesitation, as if you were waiting for me to say just that.

It’s nice to just be here, for me, with you, like this. Together. Your hands are intertwined in the way that I know means you’re trying to hold my hand, in whatever way you can. We look out at the stillness of the water, listening to the sound of rushing waterfalls in the distance. We both must be thinking about the same thing, now, because although I don’t agree with the Resets, I understand why you don’t want to leave, to some extent. Have you convinced me that you’re right? Have I felt this way the entire time and simply didn’t realize until now? I can’t say for certain. But I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own fear of reaching the end.

“Chara?” you say, voice cracking a little. The sound of my name spoken aloud and echoed around by the echo flowers startles me. “It’s just that…I really, really don’t wanna be by myself again.”

I feel tears pricking at your eyes. The honesty in your voice stings.

You won’t be by yourself, I try halfheartedly. Everyone will be up there with you.

You reposition to rest your head on your knees. “You know what I mean,” you whisper, and after a moment you say. “You’re not gonna be there.”

…Right. Of course.

That is the funny thing about good things, see. About journeys and stories. And lives. They end. Sometimes (always) too soon.

I do not know what I was expecting the first time you made it to the surface. What, was I just going to live inside your head forever? Would you want that? Would I? The strangest thing happened when you stepped over that threshold where the barrier once stood, when everyone else followed you out. I felt you pull away from me, and then I watched the back of your head as you walked out into the sun. It was a bit disorienting. I wasn’t seeing through your eyes anymore, I was just…there. Watching. Barely even there, because I couldn't feel you there justifying my existence anymore.

I don’t think there was a doubt in either of our minds about what that meant. As everyone else chatted in awe of how beautiful the sun was, you looked back at me (although I don’t think you really saw me, just the empty opening of the cave). There was confusion, or sadness, or panic on your face. I’ve never had to read your face from the outside before, what a funny thing to realize. Whatever emotion it was, it was enough to make you Reset. And then again, and again. It really was for my sake, then.

This makes me feel a strange mixture of things, but the feeling of guilt sticks out like a sore thumb. Frisk, I don’t want you to feel any sort of…obligation? Or anything? To keep me alive. I’ve been wanting to be dead for a long time.

It’s a lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood, but as soon as I think it, I realize how unfunny it sounds. It kind of stops being a joke when it’s true.

Still, you reply, “It’s not like that. You know that.”

You are making some awfully bold assumptions here, though they’re not entirely false. I’m inclined to ask, what is it like then? Would moving on with your life not be the best option here? Everything is going to work out for you. And, hey, you won’t even have to put up with an annoying ghost in your head anymore.

“What if I like the annoying ghost in my head?”

Well, then you’re weird. But we’ve already established that.

That gets a smile out of you. “See? You always make me feel better,” you think, and I want to roll my eyes at that. I want to remind you of all the times I made you feel worse rather than better, but I stay quiet for now.

“…Before I came here,” you start, eyes trained on the ground as you fidget with the grass there, “I was alone a lot. It wasn’t so bad, but…it wasn’t so good either.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think about it much. I had to take care of myself, and there was never anyone there…to say it’d be okay, or to tell me dumb jokes, or just be there…y’know?”

Yeah. I do know.

…

“I kinda panicked when I left the Underground and you weren’t there. You were just…gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even really mean to Reset, I just didn’t think, and I-“

You sigh.

“I just really care about you. You’re like my best friend, Chara- ‘N that’s what it’s like. It’s like saying goodbye to your best friend.”

Oh.

Ha ha. Yes, I really do know that, don’t I?

“Wait, augh. I-I probably shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I’m sorry-“

No, Frisk, there is no need to apologize. It is fine. It’s fine.

Your fingernails claw into the grass and the dirt beneath.

I know. I know what you mean. I really do.

I try not to think of my brother. I fail.

I did not think you would care so much. It’s- (stupid), I want to say, but you are not stupid. (See, caring about me always gets people hurt), I want to say, but that’s not your fault. (What did you expect?), I want to say. (I don’t believe you), I want to say. (I don’t understand you), I want to say. I can’t- I can’t say any of that. I can’t say anything to you, right now.

You- you nod, a little concerned, but you give me space. You bring your hands together again and gaze out at the water again for a minute. Then, finally, you decide to continue onwards. You have a fish monster to face.

~~~

Being here doesn’t get easier, no matter how prepared I am after each Reset. The grey, achromatic walls and floors. The feeling of despair in the air. The stillness. It directly contrasts my memories of warmth and color and love in this home. It reminds me too much of dust.

I stay quiet as you kneel in front of the save star. It glows in a steady, consistent way, light flowing out from the center and disintegrating at the edges. A comforting feeling washes over you, as it always does, and you step into the house.

It’s as lonely as ever. You should just get this over with. The monsters that are always here to greet you at this phase of your journey stop you on your way to the kitchen.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins,” one of the Froggits begins. You stand there with your hands clasped together and listen politely, as you always do. I put up a mental barrier between myself and the world and try not to listen, as I always do.

The key on the kitchen countertop glints in the other room. You wait for the Froggits to finish speaking before grabbing it and returning to the hallway. You make your way to the far end of the hall to grab the second key, too, before entering my old room.

You open the gift boxes and take the locket and dagger out without a word. I relish the familiar weight around your neck as you reach back to fasten the locket’s clasp. It helps me find the words I want to say.

Frisk. I don’t want to keep doing this.

You’re surprised to hear me speak, but you listen.

What we talked about earlier… It’s not that I don’t want to stay. I think…you’ve helped me a lot too. And I’m really glad I met you. I’m just tired of feeling stuck in the past. A part of me…wants that, but. It hurts, being here but not being able to do anything. To fix anything.

Plus, I mean. You!! The barrier’s broken thanks to you! You and…Asriel, of course. At least, it will be. Again. It’s… I’m glad it worked out in the end. Even if it took a really long time.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could stay, at least a little longer, but I don’t want to take this away from them. Or from you. I made my choice a long time ago, and this is already more than I deserve.

…

Are you…crying?

You’re holding your arms around yourself, as well. What is this???

“A hug,” you say through thoughts, sniffling.

Oh.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

It’s not your fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve kept Resetting, though. I knew it upset you the first time…”

I understand why you did it now, though. It’s okay, really.

“Okay…”

You rub your eyes with your sleeve and stand up, giving yourself a self-assured nod.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time.”

~~~

When it’s time to fight Asriel, we’re both filled with determination. The nothingness surrounding us erupts in color and light, illuminated by kaleidoscopic starbeams and glimmering stardust. Attacks rain down on you from above, and you weave your body between them masterfully. You can’t evade them all, but I’m there cheering you on. A blast from Shocker Breaker shatters your soul; I reach out to press the pieces back together. But it refused!

Asriel floats above you, smirking with confidence in his power. You aren’t afraid of him anymore. You know all too well what he’s capable of, but you know him better now than you did when you first encountered him, just a human and a flower with a million untold secrets between them. He’d laid all his puzzle pieces out before you, and you can’t help but see the whole painful picture before you now. He’s stuck in a cycle, much like you but nothing like you at all. You’re going to help him bring it to an end. (Once and for all.)

The attacks keep coming, but you persist. You reach out to your friends within Asriel’s soul and remind them of who they are. Undyne, whom you admire for her enthusiasm and sense of justice. Alphys, whose intelligence and desire to do better inspire you. Papyrus, whom you enjoy hanging out with for his optimism and dedication. Sans, who tells you jokes that make you laugh and whose laid-back attitude puts you at ease. Toriel, who cares for you as her own child and made you feel safe when you first found yourself in this unfamiliar place. Asgore, whose presence is both comforting and sad, knowing of the difficult decisions he’s had to make in his life. Once you’ve reached out to all your friends, there’s only one thing left to do.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

So you reach out to Asriel. And I do, too. He’s not the same as he was all those years ago, when we were just two kids playing in a muddy flower garden, and neither am I. But it’s still him, despite everything. He resists…and he’s still crying out to you as if you’re me. It hurts. I watch him do this every time, desperately latch on to the belief that I’m not really gone, and the ironic thing is that I have been here the whole time.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he says, confident façade cracking.

It ended a long time ago.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he says.

I know.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…”

…

“So, please…” His voice shakes, laced with despair. “Stop doing this… And just let me win!!!”

He raises his arms and summons all his magic for one final attack. Your vision is overwhelmed with color as the blast hits you, and you barely register the way he screams at you to stop holding on as your HP drops, with each passing second, to an impossibly low number. But it never reaches zero. You don’t die; your soul doesn’t shatter, because you’ve made it this far and you’re not about to give up now.

Finally, the world grows silent as the sound of magic rushing past your ears subsides. You’re exhausted, though Asriel is barely even paying attention to you anymore. He closes his eyes. Suddenly he seems so small inside his godlike form, too small to really be the Absolute God of HYPERDEATH.

“I’m so alone, Chara…” he says. “I’m so afraid…” They’re echoes of words I’ve already heard him say three times before, but they feel like acid nonetheless because it’s my fault and I’m the reason he’s like this, but you firmly tell me that it’s not. I don’t know if I can believe you, but I lean into you and try not to say anything more.

…

The world fades to black, and Asriel stands before you, looking the way I remember him once again. He’s covering his face, wiping away his tears and probably trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. He always was a crybaby, wasn’t he?

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?”

Ha. Indeed.

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “…I know. You’re not actually Chara, are you? Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

You open your mouth to protest, but… Come on, Frisk, I can’t do that to him. Not after all that.

“But… Are you sure?”

I’m not… I am not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get his hopes up.

You twist your fingers together, disappointed, but you close your mouth anyway.

I’m only half-listening as he continues, asking for your name (which you have given him three times already) and apologizing for his actions. This is the last time I’m going to see him, is it not? He will break the barrier, and then you will go to the surface with everyone else. And I… Well, I don’t actually know what will happen to me. I won’t be able to come with you. I know that, at the very least. It looks like it might really be the end for me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

You tell him you forgive him, as you do every time. It seems only fair to you, after everything he’s gone through. A part of you understands him, even though most of you doesn’t, and you hope the knowledge that somebody in the universe forgives him gives him some solace. He smiles at you sadly.

He can’t stay, he tells you. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes in concentration. The human souls gather around him as he rises into the air, hovering around him in a circle, and the monster souls follow suit, glowing in the darkness. With the combined power of the human souls and every monster soul in the Underground, each pulsing with the same desire…the barrier is finally broken.

It’s over. There’s a weighty sense of resolution to it now. I don’t want you to Reset again. I know you won’t.

I stare at Asriel through your eyes as he lowers to the ground again, head tilted down, eyes closed. He looks so tired. He tells you that he needs to go, that you should go be with the people that care about you. You should just forget about him, he says. As if that would be possible.

Every word feels like a countdown, and I want to do something, but I can’t move. I need him to forget about me. I can’t be here messing everything up. I don’t…want him to forget me. But I don’t want him to hurt remembering me. I don’t want to stay here… I don’t want to go.

You hug Asriel. To my surprise, your arms tighten around him as you allow me to slip into control. “Just for a minute,” you think. The feeling of warmth and his sweater under my fingers and my chin on his shoulder hits me so suddenly that I can’t stop my tears from running down your face. I relax into the hug, though. I close my eyes and try to forget where we are and what we’ve been through. I don’t want to let go…

When he finally pulls away, he gives me a weird look, but it’s gone in a moment.

“I’ll miss you,” I say without thinking.

He laughs. “Please don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

“You okay?” you ask as you slip back into control. Your presence is comforting beside mine in your mind.

I am, I say. Yeah.

~~~

Outside, clouds drift lazily across the sky, a beautiful gradient from lilac to yellow to frame the setting sun. Over the edge of the mountainside, you can just barely see the tops of trees stretching out into the distance, leaves tousling gently in the breeze. Tall buildings silhouette the sky on one side, and on the other, more mountains.

The light streams in through the exit to the Underground, of which you stand behind. One of your hands is cupped over the other in front of you, and you run your fingertips over the knuckles absently. You have been standing here for a while, hesitant.

Congratulations, partner, I start in an attempt to ease the tension, you’ve saved everyone once again.

“We did,” you correct. “And Asriel.”

Of course. And now, think about it. Everyone is free for real. They can see the sun, the sky, the stars… There’s a whole future ahead of them. And you get to be a part of it. That’s amazing, is it not?

“Mhm…”

You could stay with Mom. She would make you breakfast in the morning, read you bedtime stories at night. I bet Undyne would be willing to teach you some sick fighting moves. Anime nights with Alphys.

“I could hang out with Sans and Papyrus.”

Yeah! You could learn how to make music with Napstablook. That might be fun. And Mettaton might need some help becoming a star on the surface, too.

You giggle. “I think he’s got that covered.”

Maybe. I smile along with you. But, aren’t you excited? Not everything will be easy, but you have so many people supporting you.

“I know…” You sigh through your nose. “You deserve all that too, though; it’s not fair.”

Hey. The lilac is disintegrating from the sky, fading into a deep orange. Some of the wind makes it into the cave, crisp air whistling through the doorway and cooling your skin. Hey, you know what? It’s worth it. It’s okay.

I think there are tears in your eyes again. Come on, please don’t cry.

I can’t stay here forever. I’m already overstaying my welcome, being dead and all. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago, but…I got to meet you by some miracle, and that makes it all worth it, I think. Even if I can’t stay.

“Charaaa…”

I laugh a little. Don’t worry about me, Frisk. Really. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

You hug yourself- “Hug you,” you correct. Oh. Okay. You hug me, and I, try to hug you back? It’s a little bit awkward, but I appreciate it all the same. The emotional vulnerability is starting to make me uncomfortable, but I need you to know I care about you. I know you’ll be okay.

Ha ha, this goodbye stuff is pretty hard, huh?

“Goodbye,” you say simply, with a teasing smile.

Oh, not so hard for you, it seems. Well then, “goodbye” to you, too.

I pause. …And good luck out there, partner. I think Asriel said it best: take care of everyone for me, okay? Even him.

You nod and give me a shaky little thumbs up. That’s the spirit! (Pun always intended.)

With a glance over to the others, who are in the other room, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for you, you decide you’re finally ready to go. You let everyone know, and the excitement in the room is palpable as you all make your way to the exit. They make a fuss out of you, ruffling your hair and smiling back at you. You let them leave first, and then at last, you step over the threshold yourself. I feel our connection sever.

And then I’m watching the back of your head as you walk away again. Before you reach the others though, you turn around to give me a small wave.

That’s it, I guess… I can’t exactly wave back, but I wish you well and thank you for everything. Together, you and I allow time to continue on.

[jjrockerslefttoe]

so i was drawing on whiteboard w @jjcocker and got inspired to write a fanfic made by the cheer reader 😭 “ermmm no one reading allat” ikik

“Up next are the Rockers!” yelled from the speaker as the crowd cheered enthusiastically. It was a lively night at the Rock n’ Roll Hall, where you could see all of your favorite artists in one place, competing against other bands to be the #1 Greatest. For most bands, it’s not that serious, however, one duo would say otherwise.

Sitting at first place, the Rocker duo JJ and his student have been at the top for years, and not once has any other team beat them ever since they showed up. In an interview, JJ said their passion in rock “allows them to work hard” and to “never give up”. Such heartfelt words, coming from someone so reserved! Perhaps there is a softer side to him that no one has seen…

The rockers walk onto the stage holding their guitars, ready to break a leg–or break a neck. Student never misses a chance to bring it up, always annoying JJ. The two of them get into position, waiting for the music to begin.(imagine if they yelled sex bobomb!!! jk… what if tho)

A moody tune erupts from the speakers as the rockers begin to play, pitch-bends and strums flowing with dedication and enthusiasm. Every cheer from the crowd brings them closer to euphoria… and before they knew it, they had finished their performance. They made first place as always.

Or so they thought…

Like a dagger in their heart, the Rockers fell onto their knees seeing the results.

“WE GOT SECOND PLACE?!” JJ shrieked.

“But… how?” Student groaned.

“Wait, who are DJ Yellow & Blue anyway?” he asked, eyeing the poster. DJ Yellow & Blue appeared in first place, yet the two of them had no idea who they were.

“We… we made it Yellow!” Blue cheered, “first place huh…”

“I knew you had it in ya,” Yellow said, giving Blue a pat on the back. “You look like a real DJ.”

The Rockers approach Yellow and Blue. JJ stomps furiously. If this were a cartoon, smoke would be spewing out of his ears right about now. Student tries to calm him down, but nothing can stop him.

“Excuse me…” JJ puts his hands on his hips sassily. “You two call yourselves ‘DJs’?”

“Oh, hey!” DJ Yellow smiles. “You’re JJ Rocker, right? I’m a really big fan-”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” JJ interrupts. “Calling yourselves ‘DJs’ is an insult to REAL musicians.”

“Dude… what’s your problem?”

JJ stomps closer towards DJ Yellow, pinning him against a wall.

“You’re just mad that we made it first place, huh?” Yellow sneers, “it was gonna happen at some point, buddy.”

JJ raises his fist. “I’m going to make sure you never walk again.”

“Aw… you should take me out to dinner first.” Yellow flirts.

“WOAHH!” yells a stranger. JJ turns around. Everyone is watching the two of them fight.

“I’m not into twinks like you.”

“Really? I thought your little ginger boyfriend said otherwise.”

Student covers his face, embarrassed. “JJ… it’s really not that serious...”

JJ gets closer to Yellow’s face to intimidate him, but it ultimately fails. Yellow bursts into laughter.

“We could kiss about now… yeah?” Yellow smiled. He looked into JJ’s blue orbs, seething with rage.

“Stop saying that!” JJ blushed. “Like I said… you’re just a little twink!”

“Keep calling me that JJ~”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” JJ stumbled back, his face beet red. “I’m not gay, you weirdo!!!”

“Denial is a river in Egypt.” said Yellow.

“What is happening right now?” Student whispered to Blue.

“No idea...this is pretty gay.”

[vaquinhadecogumelinhos]

Can we talk about how Lancelot's marks glow when he is near fire in the first episode?

So, i was rewatching Cursed on the netflix for the god know how many time, and i just tought like: "Oh i should try to pay a bit more of attention to the details this time, after all i'm writing a fanfic, this would help me a lot in the criative process." But then my eyes catch in the very first scene of the Weeping monk and i just notice his tear marks glow bright red when he is in the woods burning, killing the moon wings.

My mind absolutely stoped when i saw that. Cause what do you mean Lancelot's, marks glow and i never noticed that? What kind of incredibly effective and devilish wicked spell is that? Or perhaps that was just my ADHD working again... Anyways, i am just absolutely obsessed whit this.

OK, SO WHAT IF LANCELOT'S MARKS COULD GLOW WHIT MORE THAN JUST FIRE?

Any incredibly unlucky person who has the pleasure of knowing me know that i am absolutely hiperfocused in the Arthurian legends, but i still don't know how to deepens this hiperfixation since i didn't born in one of those countries where the Arthurian legends are part of their folklore. But one specific thing about Lancelot got in my mind, that is the fact that he cries a lot, but also doesn't know how to express himself properly, and then i just got this idea when i saw the marks glowing: "What if i could make this glowing marks thing a way of him expressing emotions since he is bad whit words and facial expressions?"

And that's exactly what am i going to do.

From now on, i have this headcanon that Lancelot's marks glow when he feels too strong emotions or feelings. For example: If he is too embarassed, along whit his blushing cheeks, his marks will glow slight pink too. And if he is too sad, his marks will glow in deep wine-color.

But what if i could go even further?

Hear me out in this one. The idea of Lancelots marks glow whit strong feeling and emotions is cool, right? But what if it went further?

I don't know how to explain, (actually i do but that's just cause i like how it sounds) but how about the idea of the Ashfolk having inner marks?

This might sound like a crazy idea or one of those you just have at 03:06 AM while is surviving on only coffee and refuses to sleep. BUT IT SOUNDS SO COOL IN MY MIND. Like, they have tear marks that possibly glow in the fire, but what if they also had inner marks in their lungs and heart that also can glow whit overwhelming feelings?

And that could also give and opening for a possible fire power, cause if they marks glow inside their bodys and react to the fire, who said they cannot actually procreate fire, more especificly fey fire?

I am probably going to be more obcene than i expected but, can you only imagine if Lancelot were having sex whit someone (i'd say Gawain but if you're a Nimulot shipper that fits too) and he is just so overwhelmed whit the pleasure and wonderful new sensations that his heart and lungs glow in pleasure while he archs his back and moan like a fucking wh0re gripping the bed sheets as if for his dear life? well i can, and it's absolutely marving.

And finally, conclusion.

My point is, i didn't notice it the first time i watched, but this is just a too good oportunity for head canons and roamtic fanfics promps to just let it pass.

My head canon is made, and is not just about him but the hole ashfolk. They have marks inside their bodies, in the lugs and heart, and the obvious ones in the face. And the marks glow whit strong or overwhelming feelings/emotions, or when they are near/surrounded by fire.

And just for the sake of it, the last part on the "What if i could go even further" topic was just cause i saw a reblogged post by @lancedoncrimsonwings of a suggestion of a fic called "Came a lot" of the weeping monk by @baezen, and i just tought it whoul fit in very well.

Hunted kisses for you❤️

[xenokattz]

Beautifully Created - Ch 8 snippet (Attoye; Black Panther Wakanda Forever)

Hi all. IDK how many of you are here for the sweet fandom memes vs fanfic but *kicks dirt* *hands in pocket* I kinda am not gonna be able to post Beautifully Created for another few weeks. School is SO much harder when you've been out 10+ years who knew?

The good news is 90% of the story is already outlined! It just needs to be written. The bad news is I don't have the spoons to write it at the mo. So here's a little snippet I wrote prior to the vicious cycle of giddyness-despair-rage that is grad school to tide all 5 of you over until I find said spoons.

Attuma saluted Ramonda as deeply as he would have bowed to K'uk'ulkan. The doors to the Council Room shut. The Dora Milaje on the other side banged their spears on the stone floors. He cupped a hand over his fist, shifted his feet, and resting in ready stance. Only a minute or so had passed by when he heard the door open again.

"My-Tuna?"

Attuma startled out of his stance. "Ife?"

"My-Tuna!" The little girl ran out from behind a smaller set of doors behind a pillar. As before, she jumped up at him, trusting him to catch her. And of course he would catch her. He would always--

Attuma blinked and cleared his throat. "What are you doing here, yuyum? Where is your mother?"

"She working," said Ife. "I stay with Makhulu and Makazi sometimes when she working."

Now he understood why she was so confident. Who would not be if they could call Queen Ramonda "grandmother?"

"I do not think you should be here," said Attuma. "This room is only for  grown-ups. Who is with you here? Do they not have a guard for you?"

Ife ignored his questions in favour of squeezing his face between her little hands. "You not visit me ever."

His heart shattered. "I know. I am sorry, my pearl. I have been working a lot these past five days."

"I ask Mama. She say that, too." Ife brightened. "We play now!" 

"I cannot. I must wait here to speak with the queen and the princess."

Ife locked her arms around his neck and sighed, so deep and so sorrowfully, that Attuma nearly left to play with her as she requested. 

"I promise, yuyum, as soon as I am able, before I leave for Talokan, I will visit you again."

Ife reared back. "You leaving?"

"Not for another few days."

"No!"

He pressed a hand on her curls, like coral, like anemone. "Let us not speak of it. Tell me, what shall we do when I visit? Do you want to make a necklace?"

"No leaving!"

"Or we can visit M20 and J10 again to see how the baby is doing."

"You. Not. Leaving!!" In her anger, Ife smacked his shoulder. Hard. Harder than any child, Wakandan or Talokanil should have been able to hit. The membrane on his gill rebreather burst and her fist slammed into the sensitive skin flaps. Attuma's vision flashed white with the pain. His arm went numb. Ife slipped out and she fell on the stone floor, shocked into silence. A second later, she wailed.

The throne room doors slammed open. Four Dora ran in, spears pointed. Behind them were two Talokanil with their own weapons raised.

"Get away from her!" yelled one of the Dora as two others charged in. Seeing him surrounded, the Talokanil let out a war cry and leapt to his defense.

"Ma'!" Attuma commanded, shooting up to his feet with his arms raised. He sensed the Dora reign her rage in but one of the Talokanil-- a scribe, perhaps, the name slipped his mind-- was not as well trained. He could not stop the downward arc of his axe. It connected with the shaft of the Dora closest to Ife. The Dora twisted to change the direction of her spear point but it was still too close. Attuma reached out with one arm and dragged Ife under his body. The point skimmed his flank.

Furious, he grabbed the scribe's axe and stomped it into two pieces. "Control yourself! There is a child here!"

"We thought–"

He grabbed the man's collar and hauled him up, dangling, half-choking. "When I say stop, you stop. I do not care if your head is in the mouth of a shark, you will stop, or I will have your balls bled for the next harvest festival. Do you understand, warrior?"

"Y-yes, Nacom. Forgive me, Nacom."

"And you!" Attuma turned his wrath on the Dora whose spear nearly hurt Ife. "Weapons are never drawn so close to a child! Never! Four centimetres to the left and it would have cut her leg. I will speak to your general about your carelessness."

The Dora crossed her arms in a crisp salute, her eyes widening a second later when she realised what she had done.

Of course, the queen, the princess, and General Ayo stalked in at that moment. Queen Ramonda scanned the scene in front of her as she demanded, quiet as the eye of a storm, "What happened?"

[goodluckclove]

good evening monsieur clove i have realized in the past two weeks that i drag my feet when it comes to writing because words are not my preferred medium for communicating stories, much like how a prolific painter might not enjoy doing a full, detailed charcoal sketch. this said, should i or should i not turn my current fanfic ideas into comics/storyboards rather than written prose ?

Oh yeah! Absolutely!

I think different ideas are best for different mediums. That's something that I only recently had to learn wasn't common knowledge amongst artists here. There seems to be a weird preconception on certain writing communities that something has to be a novel, that you have to specifically turn this idea into a novel.

And that's - I mean, it's a noble thought to want to make any effort at all to make art. But if it isn't working and you're stuck in perpetual writer's block - perhaps even to the point where you start to assume that a fundamental part of being a writer is not writing - maybe it's time to expand your idea of Things You Can Write.

Maybe your idea isn't a novel. Maybe it's a play, or a movie, or a comic, or a short story, or a collection of short stories. Maybe it's something else entirely. Maybe it's a fucking ARG. Contrary to what other people seem to think, a novel isn't the only barrier to entry to be considered a Real Artist.

Short stories don't take less effort because they're shorter. If you think they do, maybe you're just naturally good at short stories (Which is very lucky because they're way easier to publish and sell so like why not lean into that?). And scripts for theater, film, and comic are each separate structures that have a ton of room for artistic flair and structural skill. Have you ever read the script of your favorite movie? It's really interesting how much it expands on the experience!

So yeah, different ideas require different homes. If you think your idea would work as a collection of storyboards or like a formatted script you can share with other artists, fucking do it.

I commonly adjust medium and structure for an idea if it isn't flowing the way I want it to. This mainly looks like going between prose and stageplay, because those are my two main realms. But if you only work in prose for now, you can also try switching POV or setting. Change the perspective of what you've already planned. Stephen King had a fun reoccurring bit in his writing where he would briefly hand over the perspective to what was essentially a walk-on player who would observe something spooky and then never be seen again. It can be fun for the reader and refreshing for the writer to play with different angles, you know?

Whatever you got to do, man. No Gods No Masters and shit. I would just truly love if we got rid of the weird ongoing generalization in communities like this that it's the norm for all writers to hate writing. Like, I'm probably the absolute wrong person to counter that thought, but that. Doesn't seem right? Or good or healthy?

[eleanorblythe]

Romantic Homicide - Anton Chigurh x Original Female Character - Chapter 2

This has been so much fun to write. I had honestly just intended to write some filth and call it a day, but the more I wrote the more I cared about these characters. I promise filth is coming, but right now it’s a whole lot of angst and emotions.

You can STILL use this as a reader insert because I STILL haven’t given her a name, but I think at this point it’s more of a deliberate choice than the lack of a good name, it gives her some mystery (and maybe makes me a little pretentious??)

I don’t think this will be a fully fledged fanfic, like I said this was meant to just be some disgusting smut, but apparently I need foreplay and I have ideas in the back of my mind for one off scenarios - so if I do continue this I would be open to any suggestions you have or want to see - requests will be open.

Also on Ao3 with author notes and translations - here

When she rose the next morning it was almost easy to forget there was anyone else in the house. When she walked through the dining room and peered into the bathroom to get to the kitchen, everything was exactly as it was meant to be. There was no mess, no blood and no glass. She couldn’t help but look over at her cabinet and see the empty spot where her sixth rocks glass ought to have been, but there were slightly more important things to worry about.

But first. Coffee.

Like with everything else in her home, she had the best (his) money could buy. So she was lucky enough to have a coffee machine that came with all the bells and whistles. This included a steam wand that was used for frothing milk. She quickly filled a small cup with milk and turned on the steam wand, letting it make the most awful noise. Screeching and wailing while she simply turned on her stovetop and placed her stovetop coffee maker on it to make a pot of black coffee.

She never has milk with her coffee.

Her antics did the trick. Before long Anton came wondering into the kitchen, somewhat bleary eyed and wondering at the hideous cacophony of sounds emanating from her kitchen. Her eyes tracked him from the dining room and once he set foot onto the linoleum of her kitchen she switched the steam wand off and poured her cup of frothy milk directly into the sink.

Anton clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into her. He watched her pour black coffee from her stainless steel pot into a rather elegant looking glass coffee cup.

She raised her cup, in the form of a mocking cheers or toast and kept steely eye contact with him as she sipped her coffee with one hand, and proceeded to pour the entire pot of freshly brewed coffee down the sink with the other.

Anton exhaled through his nose, whether it was with amusement or frustration or derision, she could not say, his face betrayed nothing.

But his eyes did. There was anger, exhaustion and…hurt? With her or at the loss of a very nice cup of coffee, she wasn’t entirely sure.

She made a satisfied sound as she savoured the first sip before she wondered out of the kitchen to go about her usual morning routine, once again leaving him with barely an acknowledgment of his existence.

She knew she would eventually have to confront the issue head on, but for now he would have a small taste of the type of existence she has lived through these past months.

Or perhaps he would prefer it this way?

She dressed and readied herself for the day. She had nowhere to go, but she contemplated whether to take herself off somewhere for the next eight hours, until she realised she was being childish.

This was her home, why should she be the one to leave it?

Instead she granted a small kindness, by calling Andrews from her bedroom and asking him to visit discreetly, as she was not convinced Anton had the skills to mend his arm on his own - skilful as he was.

She stepped out onto the front porch to collect the mornings’ paper. She noticed an unfamiliar car sitting on her driveway behind her own car. She thought he might have had the foresight to park it far away from the house, but the pain must have overridden all else. She took a moment to look out at the rest of the neighbourhood. Quiet. Calm. Private. She surprisingly found herself suited to the suburban life, what a difference a few years can make. She could have done without the snobbery of some of her neighbours, but she found that she was able to combat them in other, more creative ways now, that didn’t involve guns. Or knives. Or ropes. Or explosives…

She was not entirely sure Anton could. But she was sure once his arm was mended he would be back on his way again. The only sign he was alive being the regular cheques found in her mailbox. There was never a letter or note accompanying the cheque. Ever. Just a rather large number and his signature.

She looked along her fence and saw one of the boards had splintered slightly. She resolved she would have to replace the whole fence. Ridiculous. She knew, but she kept up hope believing that one day she would finally have wasted too much money on all these frivolities and open the door to find Anton glaring down at her and be given the dressing down she so dearly deserved.

And needed.

And wanted.

Desperately.

She shook herself out of her reverie and came back into the house to find Anton sitting in the living room staring at the television - that wasn’t on. It was her turn to exhale through her nose, her derision quite clear. She turned on the tv as she passed before seating herself at the far end of the farthest chair and opened up her newspaper making as much unnecessary noise as she could possibly make.

Anton’s deep, withering gaze slowly made its way from the screen to her, but by now she was completely covered by the broadsheet with only her hands peaking out holding up the sides. He noticed she still wore her ring. Not all hope was lost then.

The newscaster quietly droned on in the background, Anton wondered if this was what domesticity was. Well it would have been, he supposed, without the arsenal of weapons they both had buried under the floorboards.

There was now a reporter standing outside a motel in El Paso, surrounded by police and caution tape. He talked about the bloodshed that occurred there and linked it back to similar incidents in other motels within the surrounding area.

At the mention of El Paso, the newspaper came down a little until she was peering over the top. She knew that was one of the places Anton had been and wondered for a morbid moment whether they would show any of his handiwork on the screen. The reporter mentioned something about locks being punched out of doors. From behind her paper she allowed herself to smirk, knowing his trademark.

“Your work, dear?” She finally asked, after raising the newspaper back up when the report was over.

“Some of it,” he mumbled, his eyes still glued to the television. He couldn’t help but hear the bite in her voice at the word “dear”

She offered no other comments or conversation and for a while they remained in this seemingly blissful image of home life. Until there was a knock interrupted the quiet.

Anton snapped his head towards the front door and wished he had his pistol to hand. She curled the corner of the paper down and peered out of the window.

“You’d better get that, darling, being the man of the house and all…” she said as she folded her newspaper and tossed it onto the coffee table. The sarcasm dripping from every word.

He was skeptical, but she didn’t look too concerned so it was probably a neighbour. He rose slowly and stalked his way to the front door glancing through the peephole before releasing a long suffering sigh, recognising who was at the door.

He opened the door just wide enough to poke his head around. Andrews met his eye and his grip tightened around his medical bag.

“Mr Chigurh.” He gave a a tight smile and a nod.

“I didn’t call you.”

“N-no sir, but your wife did.”

“Why?” He practically seethed.

“Because you were half delirious and drunk when you attempted to fix yourself.” Anton heard behind him. She stepped forward, ushering Anton out of the way with a limp wave of her hand. “Come in, Andrews. Use the back room, keep him quiet, not that, that should be a problem,” she opened the door further to allow Andrews to enter.

Andrews squeezed himself between the small gap left by the couple who had both at one time or another been “patients” of his, as they entered into something of a stare off. He hurried down the hall and began to set up in the back bedroom. She had given him a brief explanation of what had happened and while he was aware Anton was more than capable of taking care of himself, it did sound like a rather serious incident that needed at least some modicum of professional care.

Anton eventually came into the room, with her in tow. She remained in the doorway as he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

“We’ll start with the arm, if you please, but I’d like to take a look at your leg too,”

“My leg is fine.”

A quiet scoff pulled their attention.

“Just do what the man says, Anton.”

Anton saw from his peripheral vision, Andrews gulp and exchange a tense and worried look between the two, then pretend to busy himself with his latex gloves.

She continued to stare at him, like a teacher deciding whether he needed admonishing. She must have known what he knew. The bone wasn’t set properly.

He needed help.

He did contemplate rolling his shirt sleeve up but it was too tight to do so without causing pain and he didn’t want to cut up yet another shirt. He slowly began to unbutton the first two buttons before stopping and flicking his eyes up to her. Her eyes narrowed in questioning then widened and barked out a laugh at his apparent shyness.

For a single moment, Anton saw warmth, even tenderness creep into her eyes. It quickly dissolved and she looked on in that cold and dispassionate way of hers. The whole moment reminded him of watching her at work, the way she could switch between different people, different personalities like a switch.

Once Anton begrudgingly finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, Andrews helped carefully peel off the shirt and started to examine the red and swollen area, all under the watchful gaze of her.

He tried. He tried so hard to show no weakness. Not in front of her. But with every poke and prod, he could feel his mask slipping. At one point Andrews must have struck a nerve because Anton flinched violently and let out a small shuddering gasp. He couldn’t help but look back at her.

She had the most inscrutable expression. Her eyes obstinately on his arm, but she could feel his eyes on her. Her eyes were moving, almost frantically, between Anton’s arm and whatever Andrews was doing with his hands.

After rummaging around in his medical bag, Andrews drew out a scalpel, he cut through the stitches Anton had obviously done the previous night and she watched as the deep crimson seeped out and started to bleed further down his arm and drip onto the plastic sheet spread over the bed and floor.

She was reminded of another time - all that blood, all that pain…

Anton gritted his teeth and kept his reactions to the pain as minimal as he could. He decided to anchored himself to her, tried to find his strength in her. His eyes never leaving her face as he waited for her to look back.

When she did finally look up at him, he was a little taken aback. Her jaw was stern, her mouth drawn in a thin line, her nostrils flared, her eyebrows drawn. But her eyes…

There was no anger, no contempt, no mocking, just total understanding, empathy and…fear. He watched as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her lips parted as she drew a sharp inhale, like she wanted to say something, but snapped her mouth shut and immediately left the room.

Andrews muttered something of an apology followed by an almighty crack. Anton gave a chocked off scream mixed with a groan. He gripped the edge of the bed, the rustling of the plastic sheet almost deafening.

There were other cuts, other breaks that had to be made and throughout he felt weaker and weaker. At one point he had passed out.

He awoke to the pleasant relief of a cool towel being dabbed against his forehead, he opened his eyes to see her leaning over him. She met his gaze and lay the towel against his forehead. He felt the faintest brush of her fingers down his temple and cheek as she reached for something he couldn’t see. He then felt the unpleasant stab of a needle in his uninjured arm.

“Morphine.” She said quietly. “I found some, in your stash,” she pulled the needle out and placed a cotton wool ball over the small bead of blood that escaped the puncture wound.

“How long?” He all but croaked.

“A few hours. Andrews said it was worse than he thought, but it’s done. He suggested a cast, but,” she glanced over at his left arm, so did he. He saw instead of a plaster cast, an arm brace; “I thought this would be a better alternative,”

“What else?”

“The gunshot wound to your leg is already healing quite well, he didn’t need to do too much, the laceration on your other leg has a few stitches as well as the one on your forehead. You broke 3 ribs, but I imagine you already knew that, you’re to remain here for the next six weeks. After that…” she gulped as she tidied away the morphine and needle “You can go back to what you’d like,”

Anton now knew what was wrong. He never pretended to know about people and their seemingly unnecessary emotional ways - that was always her strength, but he always thought he’d at least be able to read her well enough. Perhaps the reason for his problem was the very reason she was upset and trying desperately to hide it behind her cool and facetious exterior. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here. For months. A wife needs her husband, and if he was honest; this husband needed his wife. The work gave him purpose, but she sustained him.

It was, perhaps, easier for her when they were both in the field, the fleeting moments when they might cross paths on separate jobs and frenzied, passionate nights in dirty motels when the adrenaline was coursing through both of them. It had been enough then to sustain them both, but after what happened, when the tables were turned on them, on her…

They both knew they always had to be prepared to die to do what they did, it was an inevitability and reality they confronted everywhere they went, but for her, it was not the fear of death, but a deep betrayal that had forced her to step away and after months and months of recovery, almost slipping into death’s arms so many times, she found that she would not - could not - return to that world, even after her arteries stitched themselves back together and wounds and scars faded to faint lines along her skin(Anton had counted and treated every one of them, with rapt attention).

He had stayed throughout her recovery, made sure she had everything should could ever need or want. He was the one who had saved her from bleeding out. He was the one who stitched her up. He was the one who relentlessly hunted down the ones who did this to her. He was the one who suggested marriage. He was the one who gave her the home he was currently laying in.

And yet despite it all.

He was the one who needed her.

So why did he stay away for so long?

It was something he continued to turn over in his head while she cleaned and tidied up her equipment. When she rose from her perch on the bed to leave, he attempted to sit up.

“Mi querida…”

“No.” She said, finally broken. She gently pushed him back down and picked up a tin tub that was filled with murky red water. “Ve a dormir.” He always enjoyed hearing her speak in his native tongue, but now she sounded so fragile, so heartbroken, so alone.

She left without looking back and closed the door behind her. She emptied the tub, put away the morphine, did the washing up. She did anything to keep herself busy, but the second she stopped a loud and horrible sob ripped it’s way out of her and she could do nothing but slide herself to the floor and try to silence her own cries.

And from his bed, Anton heard it all.

[sotwk]

If it’s not a trade-secret, how does Legolas stay so chipper/optimistic despite all the loss?

How and why is Legolas constantly cheerful?

Legolas's age at the time of his mother's death varies depending on the adaptation or each individual writer's interpretation. In The Hobbit trilogy, it seems to be suggested that he was a child, perhaps even a newborn, when his mother died, so he never really knew her. I've seen a lot of fanfic authors and artists subscribe to this version.

In SotWK however, the Elvenqueen dies in Third Age 2793, when Legolas was already over 2,000 years old. (I outlined a detailed HC of that story HERE.) By the time Thranduil's family began to suffer losses, including being forced out of their home and into the cavern dwellings in northeastern Mirkwood, Legolas had already enjoyed centuries of a happy life during the Golden Age of King Thranduil and Queen Maereth (Third Age 100 to 1000). Legolas had the maturity and wisdom to process and overcome the tragedies that befell his loved ones, so that it didn't crush his bright spirit.

There is a reason why his family's motto is "We will endure." Thranduil and his sons are ALL strong of body, mind, and soul.

Here are some key aspects of Greenleaf's background that contribute to his effervescent personality:

As the baby of his family, Legolas is already by nature the most cheerful, energetic, and relentlessly positive of Thranduil's sons.

He grew up in an almost impossibly happy and loving home, with two nurturing parents and four older brothers who were his mentors and best friends. (My multichapter fic, "Greenleaf's Day Out", paints that happy family picture.)

Legolas is amiable towards everyone he meets, and is known for going out of his way to befriend not only his father's subjects, but also the outsiders who reside at the edges of Greenwood and people of other races he encounters in his travels. He is the Elven poster boy for non-discrimination; he just went through a bit of a rough patch late in the Third Age.

What about his animosity towards dwarves, e.g. Thorin and company, and initially Gimli? I could write a separate essay about that, but in short let's put it this way: given his family's tumultuous history with the Dwarven race, Legolas deserves a TON of credit for ultimately embracing Gimli as his eternal best friend.

Thranduil sent him to the Council of Elrond not because he was the only option left to be Mirkwood's representative, but because Legolas was in fact the Elvenking's Herald, a high-ranking position he had already held for centuries at that point.

Now, it is fair to say that having such a perfect family should only make it more painful for Legolas when bad things started to happen to them. His mother was murdered and one by one his brothers were taken away either by death or some other cause, leaving him with a heartbroken, increasingly cold father he could barely recognize.

By the events of The Hobbit, Legolas had already fallen to the lowest point of his life. The movies actually portray his angst and bitter relationship with Thranduil in a logical and realistic manner.

At the end of BotFA (movie), Thranduil finally accepts that the only way for his last son to find joy again would be to send him out of Mirkwood and into the world. By suggesting Legolas seek out and join "Strider", Thranduil releases him from his obligations as Prince so that he can forge his own path.

Joining the Fellowship heals Legolas's pain and rekindles his joyous, childlike nature, because in them he found a new family to be part of. Aragorn reminds him of his wise and compassionate older brothers, and in Gimli he finds a new best friend and partner-in-crime, much like his brother Gelir (to whom he was closest in age and spirit). Even the Hobbits likely remind him of the days when the Woodland Realm thrived as a home to many elf-children.

Still, it is not a perfect joy, as is shown in the Two Towers movie, where he slips into despair as he and Aragorn argue at Helm's Deep about "three hundred against ten thousand". He cannot be faulted for this, given how much death he has witnessed; but Aragorn knows his friend's tragic history and therefore assures him, "there is nothing to forgive".

Ultimately however, Legolas behaves like a bright and carefree elf throughout the Quest of the Ring not only because it is his nature to be optimistic, but because his companions in the Fellowship were themselves a source of joy for him, a breath of fresh air after centuries of suffocating losses. He was literally "just happy to be here".

As always, thank you for your ask, mellyn nin @creativity-of-death! <3

[s3rrylol]

(only if youre alright with nsfw of course) perhaps you could write some nsfw headcannons for noe and/or atsushi (or whichever characters you vibe most with from either of those fandoms!)...cause they dont get enough fanfic love.

"headcannon" could be anything from from how you think they'd treat their partner intimately, or what they they themselves like, just whatever sounds most fun for you! and if nsfw's off the table, then "normal" hcs (favorite food, that kind of thing) would be cool as well <3 thanks for your time/effort!

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

thanks for the request Anon! i hope i did it to your tastes and im sorry that its short! <3 lets get started! --

How would Noe and Atsushi treat their s/o intimately? (NSFW)

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Atsushi:

. He would be very sweet during intimate moments with you, asking if you are okay with this and would make sure you are comfortable with this. . It was mostly his s/o that brought up the idea of having intimacy with him and he was a blushing mess after that, coudn't even speak for a good minute. . When he saw that his s/o was serious about this, he was unsure, it was his first time thinking about something like this and let alone get close to doing it. . When the two of you finally get to the point, he agreed but he was still very shy and anxious but soon relaxed under your calming touch. . Again as i said, he would be very sweet and gentle with you, making sure you are comfortable with everything he does. . Asks you stuff like ''are you sure you want to do this? we can stop if you want'' or ''are you comfortable?'' and stuff like that.

Noe:

. Noe is similar to Atsushi, he is scared of hurting his you during the time where you two should be feeling anything but negative emotions. . Noe could have asked it first, but he still respected your boundries and didn't push you if you refused. . When you two got to the sheets, he was a little bit anxious at first but slowly got used to it, making sure his s/o only felt pleasure. . Always asks you if you wanted to stop or not, making sure you are really comfortable.

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🌨️₊°.🩵*🎐✩｡