#word count 500

[parwatisingari]

Mischief Managed

The #souljourney or #aatmayana was to be #unfettered and best way to do is to #create a #structure. #WriteAPageADay from @Blogchatter.

Wodehousian Chronicles to Being Unfettered. Ah, what ho! ‘Tis the season for scribbling at Blogchatter, what with their quaint little challenge of one page a day. Quite the scheme, if you ask me, leaving one’s literary endeavors entirely to one’s own devices. Last year, I fancied myself quite the daring chap, allowing the muse of the moment to dictate my prose. But it was akin to juggling…

[destinationtoast]

Question: Several years ago, you outlined the most common fic wordcounts for AO3. Given that the data was from 2014, will you do an update to see if fics have gotten, on average, longer/shorter over time? (P.S. Thank you for creating these! I've followed your blog for a number of years, and your analyses help put fandoms and fandom trends in perspective.)

Good question (and thank you :) )! I just took a look, and I was interested to find that AO3 fanworks have, on average, gotten longer over the past 10 years.

Here's the data from 2014:

And here's updated data from 2024:

(Edited to fix an incorrect max word count)

These graphs, along with the data and any clarifications and corrections are also available on AO3.

[yurislotusgarden]

ʚїɞ Not just a little crush ʚїɞ

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1k

ʚїɞ Tw’s: literally nothing, just pure fluff of him being down bad

ʚїɞ This is literally just 1k words of Pmzai being down bad, whipped, even lovesick, for his crush🤷‍♀️

How did he end up like this?

The youngest executive in Port Mafia’s history, The demon Prodigy, one of the most feared people in Yokohama if not the whole of Japan, Dazai Osamu has fallen in love.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't that. That the nice feeling he got whenever he was around you was just because of him standing near, or spending time with a friend, a close one, but denial can go on only for so long.

The brunette at first thought that his crush, as Chuuya had called it when he had caught onto Dazai's more than normally weird behavior, was one-sided. After all, there was no way that someone like you could love him, that just wasn't a possibility in Dazai's mind, yet you decided to go against his calculations once again, you seemed to like doing that and causing him to freak out.

It wasn't too long before he realized that, just maybe, you did at least like him in a romantic way, some acts just couldn't be brushed off as a friend gesture.

One thing he just couldn't brush off, as well as it being the reason he realized his crush may not be one-sided, was him remembering one of the times you cooked him food, even though you were aware how picky he could get with that matter.

///////////////////////////

A figure with brown-haired locks could be seen walking on the deserted sidewalk. Moonlight shone on him as he arrived at his destination, your house.

You always greeted him so sweetly, especially when compared to all the people in his life. Welcomed him like he was a classmate, a friend, a normal person that you both knew he wasn’t. He wasn't treated like a superior, like someone who would kill if the smallest mistake was made around him, and Dazai knew that he liked it from the very start.

Dazai had thought before how would it be if you somehow were in the PM, but to his surprise, he realized he hated, even despised that idea. Something about the concept of someone like you, a person who in his eyes could be an angel for all he cares, being in a dark place full of violence and death like the Port Mafia, was just absolutely not right.

Dazai had arrived at your door, not having to wait long after knocking for the door to be opened by you.

“Dazai?”

You. Oh, the lovely little thing that you were in his eyes. Innocent compared to him, a civilian who somehow met and befriended a feared mafioso without the slightest care in the world.

He had no idea how he managed to get where he was, but he had no regrets.

“Yes, me! Now let me in, it's damn cold!”

///////////////////////////

You disliked crab.

In fact, you disliked most seafood, he was perfectly aware of it, and yet, you did this just for him. 

A crab that could as well look like it was made by a restaurant chef laid in front of him on the table. It looked well-seasoned, the crab’s shell was purely gotten rid of, and the smell wasn’t overwhelming like a lot of food tends to be like to him… you really thought it out carefully. 

“What is this?” It was kind of a stupid question, but he wanted to know your reasons.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked crab?”

“I do-”

“Then shush and eat, you stick.”

What did you just call him? Did he hear it right?

“...’Stick’?” You turned to look at him as he said that, stopping the cleanup you were doing just moments before.

“Yes, have you seen yourself? When was the last time that you ate a proper meal, dear?”

Oh. Goddammit. Don’t get him started on the pet names. He was aware that you used it on people you considered close to you, as long as they agreed, and he’s been lowkey embarrassed ever since you asked for his permission to use them on him, or more like embarrassed on how fast he agreed to that. Dazai didn’t know why he liked it so much, maybe it was because of how no one ever referred to him as such, maybe it was the way you sounded when you addressed him with them, or maybe it was entirely just the fault of your voice but he simply didn’t care anymore.

“I think we both know that you’d rather not know the answer.” His answer caused you to let out a soft sigh, but what he said was kind of true. In truth, he would answer that it was the last time he ate at your place, which on one side wasn’t that long ago, but otherwise, he barely eats anything. You and Chuuya were the only ones getting any kind of nutrition into his body, which he supposed he should be thankful for… not like he’s ever going to voice it out.

“Right. Now eat, I don't need you collapsing on my floor.”

“But I don't wanna!” If any of his subordinates saw him like this, whining because of food, they would be dead on the spot, but he's alone with you, and he’s been over being embarrassed about his behavior with you a long time ago.

You sighed, and he knew that you were about to use the biggest thing you have on the brunet against him, just to get him to eat… Not like that wasn't Dazai’s plan from the start, he's gotta get his fair share of you, doesn't he?

“You eat the most you can and you get cuddles.”

“With you playing with my hair?”

You smiled softly and said, “I'll even add head kisses to the mix.” knowing damn well that it’s gonna win him over.

You knew what you were doing, you had to, and he didn't mind as long as you kept your side of the deal. He's gonna finish that damn plate if it means affection from his favorite person will be solely on him for as long as he wants it.

Hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 12: Carousel

Who wants to be back in the fever dream again? It's you!! Yes you do, yes you do!

Just the one today, which is great as that means I'm back on track finally, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 937

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"Ow!" You say as you bang your head against the control the lip of the panel opening in the carousel's center, "Stupid, frickin'... thing."

You weren't a mechanic, at least you don't think you are, you don't know how to repair machinery like this. The fact that your employer expected you to just pick up the ability to read wiring diagrams and the likes as if it was nothing felt a bit unfair. If you're being honest. 

Sure, you had a manual. But it was hard to read in this low light. Which, that's another thing, why are you even working in the dark in the first place? Are you even supposed to be working in these conditions? Feels like an OSHA violation. 

Your rubbing a hand over the sore spot on your head when all the hair raises on your skin. A chuckle follows soon thereafter. You scramble for your flashlight, waving it around wildly once you manage to turn it on. No luck. He's not here. 

Another laugh, somewhere up above. Correction then, he's not close. 

You frown, and lean back down to snatch up a screwdriver, starting to work on the operator's controls now, flashlight in one hand while you work. It starts to flicker after a minute and you curse to yourself, turning it off for the meantime. 

Moon tuts at this. 

You scoff, "Don't make it seem like I have a choice here."

"Go to sleep," Is his response.

Moon rarely spoke in full sentences you noticed. And tended to repeat the same phrases over and over. If you hadn't heard him say something direct to you that one time, when was that, anyhow? Feels like ages ago, you'd believe that they were all he could say. 

"Can't. I have work to do. As you can see here.," You don't even know if you could sleep with this on-

With what on? You shake your head, frustrated. You hope you get a break soon, you're getting real sick of your brain not functioning properly due to what you're assuming hoping is sleeplessness.

You finish with tightening the front face of the operator panel back into place. You didn't bother with putting the panel back over the carousel's main access, something told you you'd probably just have to remove it again. Why did this thing even need repaired so often? Had anybody even used it since the last time you did? Have you even left the building once?

You flick the lever and then hit the main button. Least you think it's the right one, it's so damn hard to see-

"Nighty-night~"

You glance up in time to see red eyes hanging just above your head. He swings a clawed hand at you and you jump backwards, managing to dodge but falling down in the process. 

Your hands search for your flashlight as the carousel starts to power on, music starting up as you feel yourself start to rotate with the platform you've landed on. 

"Ah, ah," Moon tsks, causing you to look up to him. 

In his hands is your flashlight, you can only watch in horror as your breaks it in two, chuckling as its remains clatter to the floor. 

His faceplate spins, eyes narrowing, "Light's out."

You brace for the worst, but he only stares as you start to move away from him as the carousel takes off. Disappearing into the dark above after a moment. 

It's then you realized you forgot to flip on the ride's lights. 

You quickly stand up, taking a moment to get your balance.  You look around for any sign of the night-themed bot. You can hear him, somewhere on the other side of the machine. Bells twinkling as he searches around for you. 

You pass by the operator's podium once. You hear Moon start getting closer. 

Shit, you need a distraction. And fast. 

You make another turn. In the dark you find half of your flashlight. You hit it against your palm once or twice just to make sure it's unusable. 

"Naughty, naughty," Moon says, he's much closer now. But hasn't seen you yet. 

You duck down behind one of the benches on the ride, hand covering your mouth to keep from making a noise.

You feel fear crawl down your spine as you see the light of his eyes scan across the horses in front of you. It then disappears quickly. You swallow, closing your eyes as you wait for it to all be over.

There's a loud screech as moon's claws rip into the wooden animal off to your far left. He makes a displeased noise. 

He missed. He doesn't know where you are.

The operator's podium passes by you one more time. Move. 

You wait a few seconds then toss the broken flashlight piece somewhere off into the dark. 

You see a flash of Moon's eyes as he darts over to the sound. 

When you finish your next lap, your quickly roll off the machine and crawl over to the control panel. 

You flip the switch. 

There's a hiss behind you, you turn around in time to watch Moon retreat back into the shadow's away from the carousel. Away from you. 

You sigh, collapsing back against the podium. It's then that you feel something cold on your right shoulder. 

Reaching back, you feel a large hole that's been ripped into the back of your shirt. 

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Moon speak.

"It's past your bedtime," He snickers. Which is his way of saying 'Until next time' you've realized.

You grumble, rubbing a hand over your eye.

This job sucks.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Little more light-hearted compared to yesterdays. Which you can find here if you haven't seen it or any of my other promptobers already. Thanks for reading!

[sociallyrepressed]

devour

[norstappen]

There’s blood dripping from Max’s hands. It’s staining the hotel carpet, but Lando can’t be bothered by it when Max approaches the bed, bloodied hands leaving red imprints against the pristine white bedding. He tugs at Lando’s ankle to pull him away from the headboard, laying him out across the comforter. Lando goes with it, incapable of not following Max wherever he leads.

He moves them so Lando is flat on his back. It accentuates the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady calm of his heartbeat. Sometimes Lando is unsettled with the way he’s comfortable around Max. He’ll allow the hands that choke to cup his cheek and stroke his hair. Max is so gentle with him, but he can see the tension jumping beneath his skin. Lando can see the wild gleam in Max’s eyes, the saliva that pools in his jaw. He doesn’t know what keeps Max from snapping and biting and ripping and pulling until Lando is so wholly undone he’s nothing but strips of tendon and shredded bone. But sometimes, he doesn’t care because Max is Max and when Max decides it’s time to finally consume Lando then so be it.

His attention slips back to the present by the weight of Max’s body pressing against his torso. His cheek is resting on Lando’s chest, but Lando swears he can feel the ghost of sharp teeth at his neck. He doesn’t feel alarm, the pressure isn’t biting, the threat of his throat being torn out by Max is nonexistent.

Sometimes, he thinks this is all Max wants. All Max needs. A place where he can exist with no expectations and no need to be anything but present and alive. Deep down, Lando knows being quiet and docile is the only thing sparing him of Max’s brutality.

It’s different out on the track. While racing, Max succumbs completely to the animalistic side of him. The side that hungers. No one is spared because when Max is hungry, he devours. Lando can recall the collision that ended his race early. He can recall the way Max shrugged it off, eyes glinting. Lando’s just a human, fragile, so he didn’t argue his defense. He knows his place and he won’t be forced to bow like some of the other humans standing before Max.

(Is what he’s doing any different? Is it any better? He’s laid himself out, but his fate won’t be any different.)

He remembers Max’s first championship. He remembers how Max came to Lando with blood running down his hands in thick rivulets more times than not. Lando never considered what would happen if it was his own blood. He can feel it drying between his own fingers from where Max is holding his hand. It’s gentle, far too gentle for a raging beast, starving for everything he could ever have and beyond that.

This thing being nurtured between them is dangerous. It could easily sour and destroy Lando. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stop it, he’d probably welcome it because if anyone were to ever to ruin Lando, at least it’d be Max.

He runs his hands down Max’s spine. Back up again to scratch the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. He rests his head back against the pillow, falling asleep to the phantom feeling of hot breath panting against his throat.

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 6: Bad Coping Mechanisms

Scars in your heart

A deep breath in, then out. Again, and again.

He’s fine. He reminds himself that he’s fine, that nothing can hurt him right now, because he’s safe here, in his room.

Akito picks at the sore where the cuffs were and tries to calm himself. He’s scared of nothing, a half-remembered nightmare that obviously featured her but nothing else specific.

It’s not enough to call Toya, to wake him up and make him worry.

So Akito is fine. Really! He has to be.

The next day at school, everything’s a blur. He’s tired now, never did get back to sleep.

“Hey Shinonome!” One of the guys from the soccer team pats him in the back and Akito leaps out of his skin.

Stupid, he’s jumping at shadows. How long has it been now, six months? He’s a second year now, he’s older, he should be over it.

He feels An and Kusanagi’s concerned gazes drilling into the back of his head like a hole, and he knows soon others will notice and follow suit.

Because if they, the ones who saw, who rescued him were worried, then something serious must be wrong.

Akito curls his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles are paper white and he focuses on the literature passage in front of him.

Get through the period, then the day, then the week and eventually he’ll be over it.

Tsukasa-senpai stops him in the hallway and asks something, and Akito doesn’t listen because he can see the concern in his eyes and knows he’s trying to cheer him up, which he doesn’t need.

He eats lunch on the roof alone.

Three hours left.

The rest of the day is easy, he answers questions when he’s called on, the teacher looks at him like an idiot a couple of times, but he genuinely doesn’t care if he’s right or wrong, he just needs the day to be over.

Some of the guys from the soccer team ask him to help as he’s walking briskly towards the gates at the end of the day, and Akito smiles and waves them off but it’s not right, something’s wrong because now they look bothered.

Whatever, he’s not going to think about it, he just runs home and curls back in on his bed and now he’s really fine. He’s really actually fine and safe and can calm down and wait for this stupid scared animal in his chest to leave him alone and stop screaming about him to watch every corner in case she’s behind it.

The door opens.

Akito’s breath stops but he swallows. He’s not stupid it’s fine.

He looks up and it’s just Toya and he leans back against the bed. Toya wordlessly climbs next to him and wraps his arms around him.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“No. ‘S stupid.”

“This about singing or…”

“Her.”

“Yeah, ok. Wanna take a nap?”

“Stay?”

“Of course, why do you think I’m here?”

“Thanks, partner.” And for the first time all day, Akito feels relaxed.

[illuminatedferret]

Congratulations!

Ficlet please, prompt: Wager

Thanks! Uh... this prompt is... it's a little long. But I had an idea and I wanted to write it, so. RIP me. Enjoy!

With great disbelief and dread, the assorted collective of the Heavenly Court mutely watched the great wave of Blessings Lanterns rise across the sky. The mass swallowed up all of the paltry offerings their devoted believers had gathered upon this Shangyuan, one by one, before overtaking even the moon itself.

“It’s him!?”

“He’s still around!?”

“Wasn’t he done!?”

Like a dam bursting, all at once a cacophony of voices filled the air. An outsider would be able to distinguish no particular voice, but it was clear to anyone listening for even a moment that not a single person had a positive thing to say.

Crimson Fucking Rain was back!?

Already!?

They were dismayed for more than one reason. See, His Highness Xianle may be happy living sequestered away on Mount Taicang, but up in the heavens, there had been a great deal of speculation on both his relationship to the deadly red ghost king-

-and just how long the man would take to come back.

One might assume, all things considered, that the current, erm, non-liquid state of the economy in the heavens being what it was, the gods might think to curb their more excessive habits.

And sure, some of them, they did.

(Quite grudgingly.)

But one thing no Heavenly Official could resist was some good drama and bragging rights.

So of course, when someone suggested a bet on just when the Gambling Tyrant Hua Cheng would return, the idea was jumped on like binu upon General Xuan Zhen.

General Nan Yang didn’t participate, citing his honor, and neither did General Xuan Zhen, attributed to the great smackdown fight that started when General Nan Yang came across General Xuan Zhen in the process of placing a bet. But the sorts of numbers put down ran the full gamut. A thousand years was a popular one- if, some suspected, more wishful thinking than anything else. Some people bet he wouldn’t return at all, but they avoided saying as much around the Southern Generals- they seemed touchy about the prospects of their former prince’s love life.

Others said he’d take five hundred years. Eight hundred. Three hundred. One particularly clever (or so he thought) civil god said it would take four hundred and eighty-nine years.

But nobody-

Nobody expected this, right!?

A year!?

A single stinking year?? 

“At least no one won the bet,” one god eventually grumbled, and his words were picked up by a louder neighbor.

“Yeah, at least no one won the bet!” Truly, it was the only acceptable way to lose the bet- if everyone else did too.

“...Actually,” came a voice that every god in the heavens suddenly dreaded. Like clockwork, every head within the Court swiveled to gaze at the tired, reluctant, but also slightly entertained countenance of Ling Wen Zhen Jun. Even Generals Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen seemed surprised, in their respective corners of the room.

“Someone...?”

“Someone bet one year!?”

“Seriously!? Who!?”

Mutters and speculation rose up on all sides, only to fall mute again as Ling Wen turned to one of her tablemates.

“Congratulations, Your Highness,” she said. “You’ve won quite the pot. It seems you were right to place your confidence in Crimson Rain.”

“Of course he was gonna come back,” Quan Yizhen blinked. “He has to fix shixiong.”

[pokimoko]

I have had it with these motherfucking spam bots on this motherfucking site.

[smuttyandabsurd]

For Your Eyes Only (Japan x Netherlands)

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia Pairings: Japan/Netherlands, minor Indonesia/Netherlands Rating: Mature Word Count: 540 Additional Tags: Historical, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Scratching, Roughness, Kissing, Oral Sex, Foreign Language

Summary: Japan finds marks on Netherlands' body left by a most possessive lover.

This short fic was inspired by my talks with @eruverse about Indonesia-Netherlands relations. I have to defer to her for all things IndoNed, but I happen to be somewhat knowledgeable on Japan-Netherlands relations so... here it is.

Read it on AO3.

Japan blinked. Lightly, with the tip of his forefinger, he traced the angry red welts that littered Netherlands’ back. These were new, barely healed, and deep. Netherlands flinched under his touch.

“Does it hurt?” Japan asked softly.

Netherlands looked over his shoulder and met his eyes. “Mmn,” was all he emitted around the tobacco pipe clamped between his teeth.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Japan leaned down and gently kissed one of the raised welts. With his lips hovering over Netherlands’ skin, he asked, “What kind of a person is this, ah, koibito of yours?”

He had to repeat the word again – koibito. And he traced the kanji for koi on the palm of Netherlands’ hand. Ten little strokes representing love, yearning, romance. Netherlands’ face was still as a calm lake, but his green eyes were fixed with an intensity to the invisible character in his palm.

“Someone invaluable,” he finally said.

He turned away and removed the pipe from his mouth. Japan felt he was being dismissed. That he couldn’t stand. He kissed Netherlands’ back again, softly at first, then with pressure. His lips latched to Netherlands’ skin, and he sucked hard enough to leave his own mark.

In a thrice, Netherlands spun around and grabbed hold of Japan by the collar of his yukata, slamming him down onto the tatami. Japan’s breath expelled violently from his lungs as he landed on his back. He stared up at Netherlands’ face which rippled now with irritation. A lake disturbed from a small thrown pebble.

“Don’t do that,” Netherlands ground out tightly.

Japan raised his hand and gently cupped the side of Netherlands’ face. I’m sorry, was his unspoken plea, his eyes dropping in a display of contrition.

Netherlands’ frown slowly melted as his anger abated. He leaned into Japan’s palm, planting a small kiss to the inside of Japan’s wrist, over his pulse, in forgiveness.

They bridged the space between them easily as their lips met with a long-practised familiarity. Netherlands’ hands slid underneath Japan’s yukata, and gently, carefully, he unwrapped Japan from its confines, pulling it over his small shoulders and down to bunch around his obi. Japan’s foot slid up the tatami floor as he raised his knee and pressed it in between Netherlands’ legs.

“I want you,” Japan said softly, practically sighing in the sultry manner he knew to excite Netherlands. When Netherlands reached down, however, Japan caught his hand and held it still. “No, he whispered, and slowly he thumbed across Netherlands’ lips. “Sono kuchi dake desu.”

Netherlands’ mouth twitched in the corners with the faintest trace of a smile. Without hesitation, he descended on Japan and spread his legs apart, kissing the tip of Japan’s member which jumped to life at the touch of his lips. As he engulfed Japan’s length into the warmth of his mouth, Japan arched his back and sighed in pleasure. His hand fell to rest on Netherlands’ head, twirling his fingers into the straw of Netherlands’ hair, as the latter pleasured him thoroughly.

Tomorrow Netherlands would leave Dejima and sail back to the one he calls his kostbaarst sieraad. But in this moment, at least, in the balm of a late spring evening, they belonged only to one another.

-

Translations:

恋人 koibito = “lover”; “significant other”

その口だけです sono kuchi dake desu = “(use) only your mouth”

kostbaarst sieraad = “most precious jewel”

-

Historical contexts:

Japan-Netherlands relations Under the Tokugawa shogunate’s isolationist foreign policy of sakoku or “locked country”, the Dutch emerged as Japan’s sole link to the West. Despite being confined to Dejima, a man-made island off the coast of Nagasaki, Dutch traders facilitated the exchange of ideas between Japanese and Dutch scholars. This led to the establishment of rangaku or “Dutch studies” which enabled Japan to stay abreast of Western advancements.

Indonesia-Netherlands relations Kostbaarst sieraad is a reference to this Dutch print representing the Netherlands Empire holding its crown jewel, the colonial Dutch East Indies and present day Indonesia.

[parwatisingari]

The So What...Thought.

The So What Now Guide To Clarity. Back to square one, schedules and deadlines might seem like they’re boxing us in, but truth is, they’re the real deal for scoring freedom. They help us laser in on the stuff that truly matters without getting sidetracked. But, you know what’s the real menace? Those flashy planners and organizers with their stickers and whatnot. They’re more distracting than…

[volivolition]

Any updates on all wip fics? and what is your ao3 username if you have one?

if you don't want to share any info, it's all good

i hope you know how hard i am YIPPEE-ing after getting this ask, I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY FIC WIPS!!!! YEAHGKJH!!!! <33 my AO3 is also volivolition, but i dont have anything posted there yet :]

TL;DR: I have 4+ WIPs im working on simultaneously: Unstoppable Force Kisses Immovable Object - A Voli/Echem enemies -> enemies with benefits -> friends with benefits -> lovers fic that started as PWP but whoops its not just smut anymore lmao? Meet the Parts that Make You - A "Kim introduced to the Skills" fic! Let's Make It (a) Home - A Skills fic showing the aftermath of the amnesia wiping out Harry's mindspace, with the Skills working together to rebuild it into a home during the Hanged Man case. Mostly domestic fluff. Swept Up in the Feeling - An Empathy-centric fic, originally an excuse to do Skill character studies. Empathy understanding each skill while they do activities together <3 (gained a plot. suddenly.)

ANYWAY!! more info, snippets and musings under the cut!

Unstoppable Forces Kisses Immovable Object Word Count: 18722 Rating: Explicit Okay, so technically this document isn't just one story. It's my catch-all "any Volistry writing goes HERE" containment zone. Like I said, this wasn't supposed to be anything big, I just wanted to write a bunch of drabbles and practice writing smut because I've never done that before. But then the drabbles started connecting to each other and Voli and Echem started falling in love without asking me and so it's like. A whole thing now lmao?

they bring me so much joy. they're so fun to write, because volition will say something so normal and echem will find some way to misconstrue it and volition will bicker and echem will flirt back and volition will sigh and they're so fucking funny to me. they just keep talking, their back-and-forth banter is so natural to write, which is why this fic is so long hkgjh

they learn to balance each other out!! i want them to be soft and witty with each other and i'll. cry about them. if you catch me at the right time i will wax poetic about their relationship but right now they're just being incoherently rotated in my brain.

anyway here's a snippet, i have so much written for this damn fic that i had trouble choosing lmao. it's like. mildly suggestive? but truly nothing blatant, just cutesy shit lmao

Meet the Parts that Make You Word Count: 3886 Rating: Mature This fic is the closest of the four to being abandoned lmao? Or at least I want to finish Swept Up before writing this one, because as it stands I feel like I can't grasp everyone's characters right without doing some character study beforehand. It might also be because I'm currently more obsessed with the Skills instead of the humans, though i still love them.

but yes! Meet the Parts that Make You is a fic after Martinaise, established relationship for KimHarry, where Kim is casually introduced to the skills over dinner, and they document their findings in Kim's notebook over the course of about a week. it's a lot of skills banter and silly moments!! harry can honestly say that every single part of him loves Kim.

here's where they're trying to show off each of their different specialties, featuring Reaction Speed and Hand/Eye Coordination who are my sillies.

Let's Make It (a) Home Word Count: 1896 Rating: Teen+ I think if I want to finish any fic first, I want it to be this one, because it really sets the scene for the rest of the universe of all my other fics. The main gist is that Perception can pull in anything that Harry's looking at into the mindspace, and once they figure this out, most of the skills go "Hey we should bring in more things so we can decorate!"

volition my friend and perpetual spoilsport :3 anyway, different skills affect the object's properties! Perception can pull things in, Interfacing can give it texture, Conceptualization can make it different colors and Reaction Speed can duplicate it. Empathy makes it so the object has the correct feelings attached to it (Dora's letter, for example) and Half Light can immediately destroy the object (Dora's letter, for example).

this fic is basically The Hanged Man case, but from the perspective of the Skills. i think it focuses on some specific skills, but maybe not all of them because I'd die if i had to give each one of them an individual chapter. maybe i'll smoosh some skills together? i love all of them and i want all of them to get some screen time, but it would wreck me lmao

i have a whole Volition scene written out and i think its so fucking gorgeous bro... i love writing. it's like... rebuilding after death, the skills have a kind of blank slate too, you know? they're learning to work together again, regaining memories, making new ones, making a home together. the way different skills need to work together to make an object in the mindspace real. I WANT THEM TO BE A HAPPY FAMILY. AUHG.

Swept Up in the Feeling Word Count: 5103 Rating: This is Mature. Except the Echem chapter. Which is Explicit.

EMPATHY MY FAVORITE SKILL. OUGH. EMPATHY. MY FRIEND. this fic is about Empathy getting roped into a bunch of shenanigans with the other skills, and goes along with it all while better understanding each of them.

so remember when i said I'd die if i had to give each one of them an individual chapter? yeah. that's because THIS is the story where i give each one of them an individual chapter.

24 chapters, one per each skill. Including, but not limited to:

Exercising with Physical Instrument!

Art time with Conceptualization!

Performance with Drama!

Listening to Encyclopedia infodump!

Reminiscing with Volition!! (THEY ARE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS!!!)

Staying up late with Endurance

"Overstimulated Skills Support Group" with Perception

Talking about understanding people vs understanding machines with Interfacing

Talking about understanding people vs understanding specific people with Esprit de Corps

Apologizing to Composure about making their life harder with UNNECESSARY FEELINGS ("as if we don't deal with enough of our own, you bring in other people's emotions for me to hide?" "why do we always need to hide them?" "BECAUSE... :| Just because.")

A Talk with Half Light.

Y'know... with Electrochemistry (there's more to it than just that though lmao)

This fic will be the death of me, with all the skills, but I really really want to do skill character studies. I need to research their lines on Fayde and understand each of them so I can write all of them better.

This is also so I can be obsessed with each of them. Currently I have a lot of faves, but I don't care about all of them yet when i WANT TO!! i want to know each of them intrinsically!! I wrote a bit of the Endurance chapter and I didn't use to care for him very much, but then I wrote the lines

"Endurance is not tired; he can't afford to be. Not when everyone else is. He would stand before any of them, from the first intellect to the last motoric, in order to take a blow meant for someone frailer, less capable of surviving it. He will endure it instead."

and now I'm sympathetic to him. like, ough. If I understand them, then I learn to love them, and that's also why I'm writing it from Empathy's perspective! Empathy feels what other the other skills feel and does bonding activities with them with similar feelings, does that make sense? i really want to learn characterization for each of them, this fic truly is just an excuse for me to do character studies so i know all their character motivations.

BUT. it also has backstory plot now that im invested in lmao? based off of character design that i have. I STILL NEED TO POST MY SKILL REFS. RAUGH. but yeah all of my stories get too big for me really, i always bite off more than i can chew for projects like this lmao.

Other Fics: Skill Body Swap Fic! its shoved into Unstoppable Force's document for the time being, since this is mostly an excuse for Volition/Echem swap (Echem's body is ~sensitive~ if you're not used to it and i love putting voli through Situations. meanwhile Volition's body has the morale health pool in it that echem has to take care of), and ive only written that specific swap, but i think it'd be cool if i swapped EVERY SKILL.

Logic and Drama would be funny hkjgh Drama would 1) immediately slot into the new role and be extremely good at pretending nothing is wrong. What do you mean, he hasn't switched bodies with anyone? That's highly improbable. 2) love saying lies as if they were appropriate conclusions, and actual Logic would be like "That's literally wrong. Stop that."

Empathy and Composure would be interesting! Empathy's body is constantly picking up on everyone's emotions, and also is always on the brink of tears. Composure's body is not made to experience the same emotions, much less the emotions of others. Empathy's cut off from feeling and Composure is struggling not to fucking cry, poor guy.

Shivers and anyone? I just think Shivers should be small and worried about her connection to Revachol. and some other skill is just like "WHY IS THIS SO OVERWHELMING. HELLO??"

i dont know, theres a lot of ways i could go with this, i'll figure it out lmao. if anyone has suggestions for interesting/funny swaps and is even reading this far, let me know

The Sunrise Momentum. I SWEAR TO GOD IF I DONT WRITE THIS FIC. I NEED TO FUCKING WRITE THIS. Volition's vow with Harry that i cry about once per day. VOLITION IS TO HARRY AS HARRY IS TO REVACHOL. AUGH. "I will do everything in my power to keep you alive. I will keep you on this earth." my knight in lavender armor i am OBSESSED WITH YOUUUU!! *vibrates at high velocity*

okay that's about it, thanks for reading my RAMBLES!!

[lover-of-mine]

Fuck it Friday!

I was tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @daffi-990 thank you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Here's a short but dramatic snippet of the elevator fic (spoiler alert they don't stay in the elevator for the duration lol and they will make you want to yell at them [:) prev snippet also the bit I posted for the out of context line is also from this oskaoskas (it's somewhere above this in the conversation)

Eddie steps backward, leaning back against the fridge, crossing his arms in front of him, and Buck fights back a frustrated groan at the way Eddie is shutting down, just dismissing the conversation. Fights back the urge to step up to him and shake him until he's honest. "Eddie, what do you want?" He asks, keeping the space Eddie had put between them, but his eyes widen as if he wasn't expecting that, and Buck watches as he swallows, and shakes his head while looking down at somewhere near Buck's shoes. "It doesn't matter," he says, and Buck huffs, looking up at the ceiling. "What do you want?" He repeats and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as he continues to shake his head.

no pressure tagging <3: @bucks118 @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @vampbuckley @housewifebuck @steadfastsaturnsrings

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE. throwing this at ur helmet so it bounces off in a goofy way

YAYYYYY TRANCH TRADE I LOVE IT HERE IN THE MUD AND GOOP AND BLOOD AND VISCERA!!!!!!!!

ohhhhh winnebago descriptions....... i loooove the winnebago i love the "living in their car and shitty motels bc they have nowhere else to go and are also on a huge fucked up road trip" energy..... ohhhh vyncent pov save me vyncent pov. see now you have to write a dakota pov to complete the set. 3 of them do not separate !!!!!

DESPERATELY SCROUNGING AROUND IN THE MUD for bits of my william fic i can share with you that arent MASSIVE fucking spoilers. hes going thru it a little . also this is insanely unedited bc i have just been writing it in little bursts at midnight+ :

alsooooo a little tiny bit of trickster dialogue from the mark nightmare fic (WHICH. BTW. is officially the longest thing I have written for fun in the last like 3 or 4 years holy shit. i officially crossed the 3k word threshhold yesterday everyone cheer and clap) :

[starsfic]

Summaries:

Finish my time travel Spicynoodles

Azure sees a ray of sunshine when he visits Tang Sanzang. Vampire AU

When tagging along to one of Xiaojiao's less legal street races, a dark horse rider appears out of the blue, and Xiaotian is starstruck. Spicynoodles smut.

Episode 1 of my TMNT

Azure Lion and Lady Bone Demon are in the void. They aren't alone.

Macaque's memories are twisted when he is revived. Very AU.

My Scooby Doo: The gang find themselves trapped after a bad car crash.

Xiaojiao and Xiaotian discuss Red during "bestie bonding time". Smut

Spicynoodles want to date. Unfortunately, Red's hand has been promised...to several hundred suitors, leaving the duo to work on untangling a diplomatic mess. (Uncle Ruyi is fired from matchmaking.)

Vanessa and Glamrock Freddy track down rumors of Help Wanted getting published, unaware that a little girl is being lured by Gregory's voice.

[lucassinclaer-archive]

BREAK FROM THE PACK

Jonathan tries to escape from a party. He's not used to people noticing.

NOTE: a stonathan sunday ficlet inspired by the prompt "why do you care?"

you can also read this on ao3 here

“Hey, Byers!” Jonathan turns around reluctantly. He’s just managed to disentangle himself from the masses, so close to a successful escape. But no. That would’ve been too much to ask. 

This never used to be a problem. First, he never used to show up at any party full stop and tonight’s reminded him of all the reasons why. Second, when he does show, no one’s ever noticed him slipping away before. 

“Wait up,” Steve Harrington says now, squeezing through the crowd to catch up with Jonathan, completely unaware that he’s breaking all the rules. He never seems to notice. That it’s not supposed to be like this. 

Jonathan tries not to let it show, just watches as Steve closes the distance between them and throws an arm around his shoulder. He smells very Steve-like with an added pinch of sweat and liquor. His cheeks are flushed pink. Definitely on the drunker side of things. “Where are you going?” 

“Home.” 

“Why?”  

Jonathan wonders if alcohol can have the magical effect of Bambi-fying a person’s features. When his father gets drunk, his face only grows more sunken. Not Steve. He’s beaming at Jonathan in that weird way that makes his stomach twist and he could swear his eyes are bigger somehow. And soft. 

“Why do you care?” It comes out crabbier than Jonathan intentioned. He really wants to get out of here and the weight of Steve is distracting and threatening to change his mind.  

Steve leans in closer, bringing their heads together as if they’re sharing a secret. Jonathan hasn’t drunk anything, but in his chest there’s a low fluttering. “Because,” he says, slowly, like he’s contemplating the question very seriously, “I just do.” 

The breath escapes Jonathan. The hum in his chest doesn’t go away, but the tension in his shoulders does, built up in the weighty little pause Steve built into his sentence. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“No seriously,” Steve insists and puts a little more of himself onto Jonathan’s side. He’s not heavy, just warm and close, getting rid of the last spaces between them. “Did something happen? I saw you with Tommy and Carol. They just talk a lot of shit, you know? They’re idiots.” 

Then why are you friends with them? Jonathan thinks and realizes then that he isn’t really. Not anymore. It’s just this kind of party. Everybody comes and it doesn’t mean anything. He hates it. 

“They are,” he agrees. “Just isn’t my crowd, I guess.” 

Steve moves to the side and Jonathan isn’t expecting it. They sway together as one and stumble over their own feet, halfway into the hedge that borders the little stone path leading to the gate. 

“Mh. Okay.” He turns and looks directly at Jonathan who idiotically forgot to avert his gaze in time. Another pause. Jonathan can smell his breath. It’s not great, but he doesn’t mind so much when it’s paired with brown eyes flicking up and down, catching him in place. “Do you wanna go somewhere else, then?” 

It takes a second or two for Jonathan’s brain to process. “With you?” 

Steve grins. “Yeah.” He frowns briefly. Sways again. “But I don’t think I should drive.” 

“No.” Jonathan looks back to the house and then into the darkness where Steve wants to take him. Only him. “Come on, I’ll drive.” 

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 11: Loneliness

Packing Up

Akira: Almost ready? 

Yusuke was done packing an hour ago. He didn’t have much to bring to the dorm, and he doesn’t have much to take when he leaves it.

Yusuke: A couple more minutes

Akira: U sure u don’t need help?

Yusuke: Yes, I just need a moment.

A large duffle bag and a few boxes are all he needs before heading to the train station to his new dorms at Osaka University. 

The others are going to drive him down to the train station and see him off, and childishly, Yusuke wants to hide in the closet so he doesn’t have to say goodbye. That’s what he did when Nakonahara left.

But he’s the one leaving now, after spending his senior year with half his friends outside of Tokyo.

Osaka University gave him a good scholarship. Room, board, a meal plan, and a stipend for the school store. It’s the most generous offer he’s received of any of the school’s he’s applied to, and his friends were so happy for him.

Now instead of seeing half his friends occasionally he’ll be all alone on the other side of the country.

Maybe he doesn’t have to go, maybe he can stay in Tokyo, work part-time jobs and make his art on the side. Get his own apartment and visit with his friends and not have to face truly living alone for the first time.

But, that wouldn’t make him happy, would it? He wants to make a name for himself, to finally overcome Madarame’s name being attached to him, and to prove his former Sensei hasn’t ruined the careers of everyone in his care.

And it’d be nice, wouldn’t it? To go back to Tokyo a successful artist, purchase and renovate the atelier, and turn it back into a place filled with pupils, but one that actually cared about its students. That stood behind them and advocated for them, everything Yusuke wanted but never got.

He can’t get there working part-time and living in a small apartment.

A BFA means connections, more people seeing his work, more resources to help those future pupils, and learning how to teach from people who aren’t frauds.

All it means is leaving his friends behind, at least for a little bit. Being truly alone.

“Hey, there you are!” Ryuji wraps his arm around Yuskue’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug. “You’re gonna miss your train!”

“Yusuke?” Ann says. “You’re crying.”

Yusuke turns to see Akira, Morgana, Ann, and Ryuji facing him. 

“What’s wrong?” Morgana asks. “You’re not gonna miss this place, are you.”

“I’m going to miss you all,” Yusuke says, wiping his sleeve.

“Awwww, come on, it’s not like we’ll never see each other,” Ryuji says. “We’ll have vacations.”

“Plus we’ll probably text every day,” Akira says. “If Ann can keep a conversation going from Italy, she can certainly keep one going from here.”

“Not that you’ll need it!” Ann says quickly. “Becuase you’ll make a bunch of art friends in Osaka and talk about stuff like Pluralism or whatever?”

“Pluralism isn’t an art movement,” Yusuke says. “And I’ve never made friends before.”

“Hey, what are we?” Morgana asks. 

“You barged into my house and tried to badger me for information on Madarame while he was in the house, and then I threatened to call the cops on you so you would leave,” Yusuke points out. “That’s not the same as making friends by simply meeting people.” And before them, he was completely alone.

“Ok well, definitely don’t call the cops on them,” Ann says. “And don’t ask them to model nude.”

“There’s probably a nude drawing class I can attend.”

“There, and after that class you go up to someone and ask if they want to get lunch!” Ryuji says. “Food’s like the fastest way to make friends.”

“Or tell someone their art sucks,” Ann says. “That’s what Shiho did.”

Yusuke frowns. “I would never do that, I want to encourage people’s art.”

“Of course,” Akira says. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. And if you’re really lonely you can head to Kyoto and bother Zenkichi all day.”

That makes Yusuke crack a smile. “I suppose.”

Morgana hops off Akira’s shoulder and onto Yusuke’s. “You’ll be finneeee,” he says. “You’re gonna kick ass and in four years you’ll probably have your own art show in Tokyo that Ryuji can’t afford to attend.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll reserve tickets for you,” Yusuke says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji says. “But come on, let’s get you on that train first.”