#writing this fic has genuinely kept me alive

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eddie runs.

He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.

He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”

Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’alright, kiddo?”

“I think I hallucinated.”

Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”

He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”

Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.

Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears!”

“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.

When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.

Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”

He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”

He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”

“Steve. He told you.”

“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”

Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”

She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.

“Because I die?”

She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”

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[navstuffs]

hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼

anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗

Anchor

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader

Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it. 

Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)

Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!

for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)

It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month. 

It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him. 

So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.

The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.

On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.

One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?

The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?

It would be only fair if he did the same.

Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.

-x-

All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.

The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.

“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.

“May I come in?” 

You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him. 

Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.

And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.

Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him.  Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say. 

“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”

“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, but-”

“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “

“I was worried about you.”

“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”

You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?” 

“No. Get out.”

He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.

“No.”

“What?” 

“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”

“I am sick.”

“Yes. So I have heard.” 

You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.

“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.

Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.

“Hey…”

Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-

“Hey.”

He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.

Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.” 

The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.

Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.

It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.

“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.” 

You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?” 

“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?

Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans. 

“I am sorry.”

“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated. 

“No. I am sorry.”

“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”

“No.” 

“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.

“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.” 

Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.

You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.

You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.

“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.” 

“What? Of course, it would!” 

“No, it would not.” 

“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches. 

Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn’t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him. 

It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.

“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.” 

A friend? 

Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.

You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed. 

“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting. 

It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.

The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.

[usedpidemo]

Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)

Hi everyone! π here.

By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.

With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:

First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)

Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)

Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)

1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)

2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)

3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)

4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)

5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)

Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)

It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!

I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3

From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.

I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.

Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.

All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.

But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.

Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.

After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.

With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.

A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.

And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.

And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.

With grace,

Peter / π

[illicien]

What drew you to winterbaron as a ship? What kind of content do you read? Is it different from the kind of content you write? Would you like to rec a few winterbaron works? My friend is into the ship and I'm trying to see if it's something I might like but all the fics they've recked me are kind of the same in tone so I'm looking for others opinions for some variety.

Hmm! I've sort of answered some of this in the past so sorry to my moots getting this rehash.

A friend of mine dragged me into WinterBaron (kicking and screaming!!!) rather simply, actually, though what kept me here was the more grand implications of her simple origins. I'm kind of a sucker for a true power bottom, and fanart my friend kept sending me implied the fandom saw Zemo as such, and I was at least a little bit intrigued there. Enough to take a deeper look, at least.

The better discovery wasn't that the fandom had decided he was a power bottom, but that there was a strong push and pull of power in their dynamic. Bucky has all the physical power between them, it's a big thing, he's strong as hell. On the other hand, Zemo is just a guy, and yet despite that Bucky should logically have all the power between them, Zemo's intelligence and knowledge tend to leave him with an edge. That continues to be the fascinating concept about Zemo to me, but that's a different matter.

So for me, it's the manipulation, the push and pull of power, it's Bucky trying to break free of being the Winter Soldier and Zemo trying to decide if Bucky's just like every other super soldier. But it's also about understanding that Zemo knows Bucky in ways most people alive don't. He knows and understands Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier both through his research, and as a man who did horrific things on behalf of his country. And that thought can sometimes lead to softer moments of understanding, I think, that can be enjoyable in fic.

As for content I read vs write: I generally gravitate towards dark fic with these two, though there's plenty of really good stuff that isn't. There are some excellent explorations of kink in the fandom for them which is refreshing. I don't really write them as dark as I read them, since I enjoy writing the power dynamics more than the overt manipulation, but if you're looking for more tonal variety I'm sure I can make some recommendations! (Under the cut!)

** Please make sure you read all of the tags thoroughly. What I enjoy in fiction may not be to your taste, and I respect that, but the best I can do is to link to the site with the tags. 💜

Recs (under 20k words)

Just A Little More by @six-demon-bag epitomizes a lot of what I've said above, and if I didn't start out with it on the list here I'd be doing myself a disservice for how often I reread this.

Bucky goes into a painful rut and Zemo seizes the opportunity to sink newer, more subtle hooks into him.

Breathless by @zsparz is one I like to return to whenever I'm looking to feel sad but don't have a lot of time to read. I can't explain why this one hits me so hard but holy smokes does it make me weepy. Sparz is great at making me cry, though, so like - anyway.

The water kept rising. Bucky could hold his breath a long time underwater, and he remembered vividly how he’d acquired that knowledge. Sam might find him in time.

But Zemo would be long dead by then.

Past Indiscretions by @sagegarnish makes me laugh, genuinely. The whole idea of it brings me a lot of joy, and the execution is delightful.

Bucky and Zemo are trapped in 1941.

Unfortunately Bucky's past self is the only one who might know where the missing Pym Particles are that they need to get home.

When young!Bucky pulls Zemo into an alley, Bucky is forced to watch as a drunken forgotten night from his past becomes a lot clearer.

Recs (20k+ words)

That Which You Fear by @spintwinwb is a trilogy that starts off feeling like an AU and turns into something really fascinating imo. Lots of extra goodies here for comics fans, too.

Instead of freeing the people of Westview, Wanda pushed out across multiverses to get her brother back, and the entire world was caught in the crossfire. Cast in a new, peaceful life in upstate New York in a world with mutants, no Avengers, and no HYDRA, Bucky Barnes struggles to reconcile memories and dreams that no longer make sense with what he thinks he knows about himself.

One Two Many by @six-demon-bag is sweet and fun and complicated, and I really did try not to double-up on authors here but agh. What am I supposed to do??

Bucky and Zemo meet on an anonymous dating app and find a deep connection in each other. In the meantime, they grow closer in person without realizing they’re falling in love online too.

Too Good To Be True by AnadoraBlack is really one of those fics where the tropes are used so well, imo. A very enjoyable read.

Bucky wakes up with no recollection of where he is, how he found himself there, and what the heck is going on. There's also a ring on his finger, and time lost. What the living FUCK?!

The Original Sin by @zsparz because I might as well completely fail at the "only one per author" in spectacular fashion. This sits here because it sits on a very peculiar line between canon and AU and just... like I said. Sparz makes me cry. This isn't a departure from that fact.

Bucky and Zemo keep meeting over the course of several lifetimes. Zemo remembers everything. Bucky doesn’t, but there’s an eerie impression of familiarity he can’t shake — an old pain he can’t explain, with roots too deep for him to reach.

AU Recs

Removing Bucky and Zemo from the context of their complicated history in the MCU can highlight different aspects of their characters that are really interesting to explore, as someone who finds their unique characters quite interesting as well, though I also know it isn't for everyone. Neither of these recs are short so if you don't mind an AU, set some time aside for these ones.

It Started Out With a Curse by Thorny is a fun AU I never really expected to find in this fandom. I personally have a history of writing in fantasy settings so this one has a special place in my heart.

What happens when the King and Queen of a human kingdom slight a powerful fae Lord known only as "The Baron"?

Enter a world of FairyTale/Fantasy Shenanigans as Prince James navigates his deadly curse and his confusing feelings for one (seemingly) cold and untouchable fae Lord. Meanwhile, something sinister is afoot trying to gouge a rift between the feywilds and the human kingdoms...

A Gentleman and a Scholar by EternalBeta is a no powers exploration of their dynamic that's... Beautiful. It also tackles a lot of things about kink that it feels like most fic and stories generally seem to ignore. There's also an amazing sequel series.

(this series doesn't have an easy summary available so I uh... I'll give it a go here: college student Bucky has a thing for his professor, and a whole series of bad decisions behind him. The trouble is, Bucky is impatient, and Professor Zemo doesn't fuck students. So Bucky better hurry up and graduate.)

Many of the writers above have at least a few WinterBaron fics, and I do highly recommend checking out their collections. Sparz and Six-Demon in particular have some really widely varied concepts and stories they tackle, and if you're curious at all I'd also recommend checking out Sholio who has some excellent Sam/Bucky/Zemo fics! I didn't toss recs here because they weren't the heart of the ask, but I gobbled those up easily for some very sweet treaties.

[classificationhell]

So it's most likely not going to happen in the fic I am writing for him, but imagine Mourningstar's delusions go so hard that he genuinely believes that you are his babygirl, and not in the adopted way. Like in order to help him heal more his brain decided to fabricate that everyone died that night except you. You were taken from him, but not by death. The angels must've taken you and then sent you back down once he proved he wouldn't lift a finger to help those filthy sinners ever again.

Even if you look completely different, even if you insist you don't remember this man he's so sure in his delusions. Of course you don't remember him you were just born when it happened that's why you look at him like he's a stranger, oh babygirl he's so sorry he missed so many important milestones for you. He wonders why the angels didn't tell you about your Daddy, but it's alright he'll tell you all about your family and about memories he has of you as a baby.

It all makes so much sense now! Angels wouldn't be so cruel as to murder his entire family. The reason he didn't make a grave for you was because he couldn't find your body, and a small part of him held hope that you were alive somewhere. The reason why Charlie's nursery only had the one crib was because him and Lillith had decided to co-sleep with you in their bed, yes, yes, it's all so clear! He must've been so deep in his grief he had momentarily forgotten, oh babygirl he's so sorry but he remembers everything now!

He will tell you all about the day you were born and how excited Charlie had been for a sibling. He'll tell you about how she used to play dress up with you and read you her favorite stories and how you'd giggle. He'd tell you about how he used to make you watch in wide eyed wonder whenever he'd use his magic around you.

What you aren't his second daughter and you came from another family? Oh honey, the angels must've kept you in a state of sleep and you dreamed the whole thing, shhh, don't get upset now, Daddy's here, and he'll help you remember the real truth about your past. Poor thing you must be so confused, don't cry Daddy's here now.

For those of you who have no idea who this unhinged man is allow me to introduce him to you. Essentially he is Lucifer if Lillith actually attempted to form a legitimate army to take down heaven due to the extermination and as a result was punished by the angel of death taking away his wife and child. He becomes more and more secluded and insane in his grief until he finds an Omega Little regressed, being chased by an exorcist (in my fic), crying out for their Daddy and he saves them and becomes immediately attached and regardless of pronouns or actual gender he calls them his babygirl or princess. He is unhinged and delusional but truly does love them.

[therantsofawriterrr]

Alright so before i start writing my tua fix-it fic to keep my own sanity, i kinda wanna rant a bit coz this show is genuinely one of those which are very close to my heart. Emo talk/rant and spoilers underneath the cut

Alright so, the first season was released on 2019, right? I watched it on december 2020. There was a thing here where netflix kinda made the services free for two days, and i only got one day cause the first day, the seats were full or smn like that. my original plan for it had been to watch stranger things, but i ended up watching tua. it was the show that kind of introduced me to gore and dark humor and stuff, plus, its one of those shows which has perfect balance between all the genres.

Immediately in the first season, it was established that even if it has love stories for its characters, it's ultimately also a story of love between siblings. a love story of a son having love for his mother just because she was there. a love story of sisters. a love story of a brother keeping his dead one alive just cause he was needed and also cause he didn't deserve to die that soon. a love story of a bunch of people hating their situations and places in their world, but loving it enough to know that they have to save it. a love that made someone come back to his family even though he knew they were chaotic and shitty and idiotic, but his family nonetheless.

It kept being re-established in the next two seasons (yes, I'm counting s3 because it was just as fun as the other two) in various moments that I'm sure all of us can remember.

Five was the dearest character to me for just one reason. He was the kid who had that burden of growing up fast and the maturity that comes with it. He was always the one trying to save his family and there were many moments when he was just overwhelmed and struggling while his siblings were having their own struggles. But, ultimately he was lonely, because he had gone through too much all by himself, and its not really something that he can put into words. I related to that. I was and probably still am in a similar situation.

Then, the writers had to ahead and fuck it all to oblivion. They had to, first of all, ruin the sibling-coded besties dynamic between Five and Lila. Was it just me who got the ick watching that montage of them on the train? And the greenhouse scene? wtf. Neither Five nor Diego deserved that. Also, Five would never do that. Not to mention Lila wouldn't do that. They could've just left it with the fact that they were having a rough patch and were trying to work through it. Like i get it, you wanna make the timelines look messy and all but that was unwarranted and idc what anyone says.

Also, all the characters were just butchered this season and almost none of the plot points established in s3 were literally just forgotten??? Thats not vv nice. they just left us with more questions for this being a final season.

Anyway, imma start working on the fix it fic. I'm gonna try to be frequent with it, but just expect me to post drabbles for other stuff cause writers block takes a hold of me fast. but i'll still try to update.

[wesleysniperking]

From Luffy, to Usopp (from a One Piece “modern day” AU I’ll probably never write) ☀️ 🌱

Luffy: I remember the first time I met you. The first thing you told me was a lie, but I believed you anyway. Everyone told me you were lying, but I still believed you because you told me yourself. That’s what made you honest to me.

I think we all come from somewhere in the sky. You told me everything in this world—objects, humans, flowers—was real and had a soul. You made me believe that. So when I hear everyone talk about you, I have to listen to their lies because they don’t know you like I do. You’re still here; I know you are. You could be standing right in front of me.

Everyone lies about you because you aren’t here to tell the truth. But I remember the one time you were truly honest with me. You seemed so down, so sad. It was hard to believe because you always appeared so strong and happy.

Now I have to hear people say you were depressed, that I didn’t know you at all, that you had a darkness inside. How could I see darkness when all you showed me was light? You always blinded me in a good way. So why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you in the front row, laughing at me, saying, “You’re so stupid, what are you doing up there giving a speech?”

You were a bad liar, and so am I. But you were there for me, and now you aren’t. You were the only one who could go along with my craziness, who could play with me, who could be at my level of fun. Yet, you could also ground me, bring me back to reality, and say, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this because it’s not right.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone like that again. You used to compare me to the sun, saying I was the brightest thing in your life. I never told you this, but you were like air to me. You gave life to everything around you. Even now, it feels like I can’t live without you.

But you’re still here. You breathed air into all of those who loved you, and I’m surrounded by that. I can breathe again. You were the most genuine person I knew. You claimed to be a superhero, to slay giants, and I believed you. The last thing you said to me was, “You don’t understand, I am a lie.” But no, you weren’t a lie. You were the realest person I knew. You were air, you kept everything alive. Somewhere in the unknown, wherever people go after it ends, you’re there. Alive.

Context: I've been reflecting on Usopp and his role within the crew. He's that one person in the friend group who is full of life and always making everyone laugh, but beneath that vibrant exterior, he hides a lot of darkness and depression. It's a heartbreaking reality that many people only discover these hidden struggles of a loved one or friend when it's too late.

I recently read a fic that compared Luffy to the Sun and Usopp to a plant, and it resonated deeply with me. Usopp, as a character, has undergone perhaps the most growth in the series. He brings life to the crew and gave life to the Merry. Through his storytelling, he breathes life into things that don't even exist. Plants produce oxygen, which is essential for human survival, just as Usopp's presence is vital for the crew.

When I think about what would have happened if Usopp had left the crew back in Water 7, I can't imagine Luffy carrying on with just his sunshine alone. Without sunshine, there is no life, but without plants, there is no oxygen, which is equally crucial. This idea led me to write a piece imagining Luffy giving a monologue about Usopp, in the event that he were to leave this world too soon.

gif link credit

Usopp fan club (join if you want to)

[fleetingcalypso]

Greetings, oh beautifully talented Calypso.

Today I come forward to ask you a quite peculiar request for a fic, if you'd be comfortable writing about it.

If you'd like to humor me, I am definitely a sucker for Francis Abernathy, therefore I present to you a prompt for him, that takes place in the timeline after the end of college.

Since I tremendously like the way you portray the characters psychological traits, I believe you could write a masterpiece out of this.

Could you write about a reunion between Francis and the reader, who has received Francis' goodbye letter and rushed to his side, after they went no contact for years.

Maybe they were occasional lovers while in college, but Francis kept the reader as a side piece for when Charles didn't want him? All while the reader had genuine feelings for him and stayed by his side even though they knew it was extremely toxic?

How would this reunion end? Would it be with or without comfort? If it's okay for you to write this, I'll leave this decision up to you. Thank you for listening and have a good day!

≋ Quite heartbreaking, being used as a replacement for an impossible love.

≋ Francis Abernathy x AMAB!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 2259 words.

≋ TW: Mentions of sh, mentions of s*icide, depressive themes, mentions of d*ath, probable manipulation and toxic relationship, one-sided love, lavender marriage.

≋ CW: Angst with no happy ending. Hurt/No Comfort. Reader is AMAB, but it can be read as GN!Reader.

“Mon amant,”

These are the first words I receive from the one man I gifted my best moments to. Black ink on white paper laughs in my face and  mocks me, the swirls in his penmanship whirl me into an hallucinogenic land I hadn’t stepped foot in for what felt like ages. The last time I spoke to him was at a funeral in St. Louis, a wretched day, where he promised me, with his gaze fixed on a black casket, that he’d never drift too far from me. After that, I’d only meet him in my dreams, during those nights where I thought my time had come.

Just eight letters perfectly placed, that was all it took for dried flowers to be bathed in holy water and blossom into divine red roses. For years and years I had tried to contact him, but in vain; my efforts in hearing his voice again, feeling his skin, catching a glimpse of his eyes only succeeded in my heart shrivelling up into something unrecognisable, chewed, consumed by worms and larvae. Each letter I sent found its way back to my doorstep, each call was left unanswered, Richard was my only way of knowing Francis was even alive at all.

Casting my feelings aside for just a moment, me and my soul feel no shame in drinking up each and every word on the page, it’s like eating cherries. One word leaves me hungry for the other, a famine coming to an end; after so long with only my memories keeping his memory alive it is difficult to contain my craving for any scrap of him I can get my cursed hands on.

His letter reads like an obituary although written in haste. 

“Mon amant,

I will not bother you with worthless, dishonest chatter of the likes of ‘How are you, my friend? We haven’t talked in a while!’ because this is most likely the first and last time I will speak to you in more time than I want to admit.

Seeing Henry being lowered into the ground, with none of our friends present, cleared a lot of fog into my mind, honestly I think this was a long time coming. Don’t feel sorry for me. You of all people, I wholeheartedly feel, should be somewhat relieved.

As I’m writing this, I realise - or perhaps I knew it all along - that I have been anything but kind to you, in our youth. I do ask, beg even, that you forgive me for my sins.

Forgive me for the kisses we shared, forgive me for those gasps I breathed against your neck, forgive me for having moulded you into the silhouette of what I was looking for in a lover, without ever actually dipping more than my finger in your waters.

Forgive me for all the promises I didn’t even try to keep.

There are many things we did together that I can still remember: when my eyes are closed and I'm tip-toeing on the fine line between sleep and wakefulness, my mind brings me back to whispers in the dark, to my back being pressed against the wall and to your hand in mine.

I won’t reminisce any longer. It leaves an all too saccharine aftertaste in my mouth.

If it matters any, you are the one thing I can’t bring myself to regret.

If after I fall into eternal sleep I happen to run into Henry, I will not hesitate in speaking my mind and asking him why the hell he was so selfish as to leave us all behind and not cause a bloodbath in that hotel room. 

Again, please don’t feel too anguished over this. It was only a matter of time.

Yours, if only for a fleeting moment in time,

Francis”

I read it, again and again, until it is burned into my retinas. I could repeat it out loud like a litany, like a religious chant forwards and backwards, in my sleep even. I most likely did repeat it in my sleep, as while I was on a plane rushing to his side in Logan, I remember being gently stirred awake by a young girl who thought I was trapped in what she called a nightmare. I assured her I was alright, but my words would soon reveal themselves to be false.

It was indeed a night terror that I was going through, only I wasn’t asleep and this was the cruel reality that fate had written in the cards for me. And terror inhabited my heart when my eyes finally met his once again.

Who was this man? Where had my Francis gone? Had I gotten the wrong room? Of course I hadn’t, he was reserved a private one, his personal nurse guided me to it.

We stared at each other and not a single muscle was moved, not until he was the one to break the spell that had enchanted us into cold statues. He sighed and turned away. I felt it like a slap in my face, still I rushed to the chair next to his bed, almost tripping over my own feet.

“Francis.” I breathe, tasting his name on my tongue, invisible maraschino cherries grazing my taste buds turning sour when my vision focuses on the bandages around his wrists. It’s unreal. The first time I can breathe in the air he exhales after an everlasting apnea, and it’s because he attempted to take his own life.

I want to scream. I want to break something. Hell, I’d strike him, if he wasn’t injured. What right does he have to take away what I hold closest to my chest? I could have lived, knowing he was alive, living his best - or worst- life somewhere in a far away meander of the world. I could have lived without his presence next to me. I could have endured it for a million lifetime, not knowing if my gaze would catch a glimpse of his red curls ever again. 

What I could not live with, was knowing he was not on this Earth anymore. That my affection was being dispersed into the wind, melting into the roots of trees with no way of reaching its recipient.

Silence reigned, I had left my house in a hurry, not even bothering to wash my dishes, fold my laundry or clean the coffee that spilled on my kitchen table when I read the name inked on the back of the letter delivered to me. It dawns on me tragically. I was so eager to finally be able to count the freckles on his cheeks again, that not for one second had I prepared what to say in his presence.

Surprisingly -or maybe not- he is the one to speak first, his words send an ice dagger through me, “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” He says not looking at me, just like he did during Henry’s funeral. History repeats itself.

These are the first words I receive from the one man I gifted my best moments to, this time at the very least I can hear his voice as he mocks me with what he quotes as worthless, dishonest chatter.

“Francis.” There’s a masked harshness to my tone that grabs him by the jaw and forces him to look my way once again. “You tried to kill yourself.”

“Wow, I left you as sharp as an arrow and I find you as dull as an unsharpened knife.” It sounds more like a tease than an insult, the slight rising of his eyebrow confirms my doubt. 

Why the hell would you do that? I want to say, why the hell would you promise me to stick by my side and then disappear like a phantom? Why in the world would you eradicate your existence from my life? But the words never come, because they’re not the ones I should say right now and with the way his hollowed eyes gaze into mine, it’s obvious he understands my struggle in not blowing up.

“I’ve been selfish,” He admits, trying to sit up straighter, my hands fists the material of my trousers to hold back from helping him, “I did not expect to see you ever again. That day, when we said goodbye to Henry���” For a blink of an eye he’s back in time, standing at my side, three rows behind our friend’s weeping mother, “Some inconsiderate part of me truly wanted to be with you, I was looking at the future and there wasn’t much I could count as permanent. Not even life itself. But you… You were always there for me.”

“I was.” I’m not ashamed to admit it. Those times where Charles wanted nothing to do with Francis, I was, without fail, the one he seeked comfort in. My body did not hesitate when it was pulled in bathroom stalls, in bedrooms or in a secluded corner of the library back at Hampden. Maybe he liked having me as his paramour because of my gentle touch and the way I’d carefully set his glasses to the side before kissing him, maybe being on the receiving hand of love and care made him feel more alive than his hair being pulled and teeth digging into his neck.

“I was scared.” Unlike me, he is ashamed. “I was scared if I kept you in my life, I would forever be reminded of what we did.” 

“What we did?” I echo him and he nods solemnly. It’s when his teeth begin torturing his bottom lip, that I almost let myself be pulled back in the past. I almost feel like Orpheus and Eurydice together as one, one single look behind me and I will be forever lost in what could have been. His tongue peaks out to alleviate the damage his teeth are guilty of and it is done.

Invisible spirits wrap themselves around my limbs and guide my hand on top of his, I restrained myself as much as humanly possible. His letter sits in the chest pocket of my jacket, it weighs heavy, though it is not the reason my body leans towards him.

Mesmerised by the way his curls bounce when his head shakes it takes a while for me to realise he’s slipped his hand away from mine to reach for a cigarette on his nightstand, jealousy possesses me when such a small object fits perfectly between his lips, nonetheless I light it up for him. The nearby ashtray is already a residence to a dead cigarette, though it looks like it was put out as soon as it was lit.

After breathing out a cloud of smoke Francis decides it’s time to throw my world off its axis, “I’m getting married. I have to, or I can kiss my grandfather’s money goodbye.” If jealousy possessed me earlier, for a simple cigarette, now a pit sits in my stomach, my head tilts in confusion because it’s all I can do while my throat goes dry. “To an impossibly stupid girl, of all people.” He adds, and it doesn’t take long until he shoves in my hands a photo of someone I don’t recognize.

“She’s pretty.”

“Richard said the same. You just missed him, he left a moment before you arrived.” For some reason it irks me that Richard was here before me. He’d always been everywhere and nowhere at once yet somehow still in the way. Too often Francis had confessed to me how interesting it would be if he could have a chance with Richard.

The more I stared at the smiling woman in the picture the more daggers piercing me. While he may not ever truly love her like a man loves a woman, perhaps she could give him a good life. Something he clearly did not want with me. I’m quick to brush that thought away, the same way I set the photo back onto the nightstand. “Nonetheless congra-”

“I had found someone else.” He interrupts and at this point maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed at home, if I had forgotten Francis Abernathy existed and if I had tried to wash his taste out of my mouth with soap. Each and every word he says is a bullet aimed to kill, he probably doesn’t even realise or if he does then the years have made him much more cruel than I could have ever imagined. “His name is Kim, he’s a lawyer, he went to Harward, he was good. But no, instead I have to marry a stupid girl, whose presence sucks the fun out of every room she steps foot into.” 

“I’m sorry.” What else is there to say? “I’m really sorry, Francis.”

“I’m sorry too.” 

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, no you shouldn’t have.”

I wonder if I could offer him to run away together. I wonder if he’d agree to let me be his saviour. I wonder if he opened up to Richard in one day more than he ever did with me. I wonder if he’s going to notice that I stole one of his cigarettes. I wonder how much time I’ve spent sitting in silence on a bench a couple streets away from Brigham and Women’s Hospital. I wonder how much time has passed since I last smoked a cigarette. I wonder why it doesn’t hurt as much as I imagined when the letter he wrote me burns at my feet. I wonder when the next flight back home is.

[bonesandthebees]

wanted to do my own bit of thanking you. It's so weird how time flies when you're in your teenage years, because three years can pass and it'll take you from a child to nearly an adult. So I guess that's just how I'm saying, your writing and your presence in the fandom was so ...impactful, to my formative years. In a good way. I've always adored your writing in a way that could never be replicated by other writers, and never for any fault or lacking in their works, because I adore them the same amount, just differently. I'd always go back to your writing for characterizations of ctommy, because it'd always been my favorite, even now that I'm older and my opinions are changed. Your writing always has so much life to it, and any way you go I guess I'm just happy you'll still be writing, because you helped me a lot with my own writing, even if not directly. I'm struggling a little (lot), but in my anger I just think about how we've all made these characters ours. The fandom has always done a brunt of the heavy lifting for the creative side, and you all deserve the credit.

man it's still so wild to me that my fics have been read by some people from their teen years to adulthood. like for one thing it's a stark reminder of how long I've been here, and it's also just surreal to remember how many people read my fics and how long some of you guys have been following me for. especially when you guys keep enjoying my writing even as you grow up and change opinions and likes and dislikes and all that. it genuinely means more to me than you could ever know.

I'm sorry you're struggling but know that all of us are in the same boat right now. these characters are ours like you said. the fandom was kept alive by the writers and artists and people who made edits and people who wrote meta posts and anlayses and just the community is what made this what it is and I don't want anyone to let one person take all the joy from that away from them

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

hey sorry if this is a weird question but you’re the same person who wrote that really incredible Better Jeremy post-canon fic right? Sorry I’ve never met anyone that matches my enthusiasm for the Better Jeremy ending and how much it hurts my soul, I was wondering if you had any further headcanons about that ending? how ‘far-gone’ is Jeremy do you think?

HIII HI YES THATS ME THATS MEEEEE. I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THAT ENDING I HAVE SOOO MUCH FUN WITH IT AND I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE FIC ABOUT IT. the SECOND i learned it was an ending that exists i went looking for content abt it and i was SO upset i couldn't find any. so i'm glad my strategy to corner the market was successful.

i will take ANY excuse to go into detail surrounding some of my HCs about this ending so here we go. obviously NFB spoilers ahead. YAY!!!

i'm honestly just going to commandeer this ask to talk abt stuff regarding betterment jeremy that i either kept in mind while i was writing the fic, couldn't find time/space to squeeze into the fic, or stuff that i never intended on actually writing down but were fun to think about.

in regards to your actual question, how far gone jeremy really is: honestly. i think he's kind of in an irreversible state. but that's how trauma works, isn't it. stuff happens to you, and even if you can get 'better'- whatever better means for you in that context- you'll never truly be the same.

that being said though, i do think jeremy could become healthier after a while. but it would be a long, long while, and i do honestly think jenny is the only person who could get him there. she knows him better than anyone else- she can read his tells like an open book- she knows what part of him is the genuine him. regardless of whether that part of him is alive or dead, if anyone could coax it out of him, it would probably be her...

i don't think i have to say that jeremy has been through some horrible stuff at betterment. even before he gets taken away again in the finale, it's written all over his facial expressions, his body language, his behaviors. the second betterment is even mentioned, he's turning to his friends, staring pleadingly into his eyes, telling them that he can't go back. instinctively, they put comforting hands on him- pat him and reassure him that they won't let that happen...

even at that point in the game, he's already traumatized. by the time the CCOs arrive to take him away, he's putting his hands in the air, reproaching, physically and vocally surrendering, not even struggling as they shove him to the floor and bust his nose in. all he does is cough and whimper. certainly, his fear of guns is at fault for some of this behavior, but he's had moments in front of guns during heatwave, and he was never this passive and helpless.

i also think it's important to note the sorts of CCOs that come to arrest jeremy during the finale. they're crisis response units. frequently dispatched to handle matters surrounding an individual's mental health. and while it could just be a narrative choice, meant to contrast with advance's seeming goodness with it's forceful reality, i do think there's also a very likely chance that advance/julia selected this team on purpose.

jeremy donaldson is not above taking his own life. we all know this. we've all seen this. jeremy does a very bad job at handling his emotions, and they can quickly boil over to a breaking point where he isn't in the proper state to make good decisions.

lots of people think, in the jeremy's injustice ending, that betterment killed him. and that could very likely be true. but i think there's also room to consider that jeremy was so hopeless, he killed himself. especially since making him hopeless- through allying him with alan james by playing the tape during heatwave- is what you have to do to get him to try to shoot himself in the first place.

regardless of how you slice it, jeremy is in a state of absolute misery during his repeated stays at betterment. and misery breaks that man down into his absolute worst self.

betterment jeremy, to me, lives in a strange state, where he's too scared to want to die, but too miserable to want to live. the less he thinks about his life- about what he had to go through- the more tolerable things are for him. i think he spent a lot of time at betterment completely dissociating, and i think he's very prone to doing it after being released. it's difficult for outsiders to tell he's doing it at all (considering he's kind of... always quietly staring off into space...) but you can normally tell by the way he's breathing. it's a little less labored when he loses himself...

after being released from betterment, jeremy finds himself enjoying 'popcorn fun' a lot more than usual. he doesn't bring himself to read very often- head hurts too much for that, usually. he does whatever's easiest and most distracting, which is usually watching tv, if it isn't losing himself in his thoughts (or lack thereof).

i do think he would enjoy tangible activities though, like cooking. it's not super complex to the point where his mind starts to get cluttered, but it helps him focus in on something in particular, he gets to move around and use his hands, and at the end of it he gets to eat something nice, and that's always good since he forgets to do that sometimes. it's one of his healthier habits post-betterment.

i also think that jeremy has a lot of anxiety surrounding how people perceive him. it seems like he was drilled in one way or another to be as advanced-alligned as possible, which probably involved completely shuffling his world view. i don't have a doubt in my mind that the old jeremy is in there somewhere, raising his cynical arguments in his shrill little voice. but all of that is jumbled, reformatted, or discarded before it reaches his conscious mind.

it's why he pauses for so long between conversations. of course, the medication is partially to blame for that, but most of it is him vetting every single sentence before it leaves his mouth. even if what he's about to say is completely innocuous, he gets paranoid that he'll say something 'wrong', and something bad will happen.

what elsee.... OH WAIT. OKAY. this is kind of unrelated but also related. since we're on the subject of betterment. as someone who perceives jeremy as aroace, i don't really know how betterment would handle that sort of thing. especially considering the current timeline, both in regards to how ace people were perceived at that time in our society, plus the fact that julia is really gunning for people to have kids so that the whole territories don't just go extinct.

a part of me wondered if some of that propaganda had to do with having families. whether betterment would make the argument that "you were so depressed because you're alone. find a partner and have kids, that will make you happier for sure. without them you'll be miserable for the rest of your life". and whether jeremy would believe it- or have any other choice but to believe it.

even if he did believe it, i think it would make him miserable. that man isn't built for sex or romance... no amount of shoving a round peg in a square hole- if you pardon the contextually colorful metaphor- is going to make him any happier, regardless of what advance tells him.

[dogfood69]

I'm like. So close to digging out my old kaishin plot bunnies out of spite. Canon is dead Fanon is real. <33

No need to mourn if the reveal never happened <33

So true I think detco especially— okay preface I love detco. It’s fun. The old movies are so pretty. But plot wise, from a non sentimental lens? It kindaaaa…sucks….its only really alive on the internet because of fanon imo. Idk in the real world but online the popularity of detco, which is very inaccessible to being is kept alive by fandom space. I mean alive as in getting new fans

So like it’s SO ballsy for gosho to do a reveal ( again idk if it gosho im not sure if he’s been writing more for the movies bc they do seem more canon as of late but whatever ) 25 or so years down the line that these characters are cousins when it will have zero bearing on the plot and even the voice actors have fed into it lol. Like maybe if u did smth with ur series instead of moving the plot at a snails pace it would be in ur hands to decide but it rlly isnt so like. Who tf is gonna take this as canon??

Like if anyone is uncomfortable with the ship now that’s fine ig but like you shouldn’t let this geezer stop u <3 especially bc this will have. No effect on the dynamic of the show. Ik ppl are upset but like guysssss it has no bearing do what u want. The show belongs 2 us now! Remember when I genuinely forgot her name sorry akai’s dead girlfriend was revealed as a cousin and nothing has happened of substance or when we had that really long eisuke arc ab his sister and nothing rlly changed or now we have shinran but…nothing really changed. U get me

Sorry for the word vomit AND GOOD LUCK WITH UR FICS!

[definitelynotshouting]

Hello I’m here!!

Raaah I meant to talk about the latest chapter sooner but I kept forgetting :,))

But anyway! This chapter really hit home for me and I really resonate with Grian, and I feel so SO scared for him at the same time. The idea that he’s so dead set on hurting himself so badly and mumbo has no idea - along with the rest of the hermits - is very scary, and very effective.

And the fact that they’ve already witnessed him trying to hurt himself in such a way and they’re all trying to cope with that is so. It’s so good. The way you show how each person is dealing with Grian’s attempt is so good because you’re showing them all experiencing different forms of grief.

Mumbo yelled because he was afraid. Tango is trying to help Grian any time he can. Scar is trying to make him laugh. X is dead set on finding a way to save him. Pearl is upset with him. It’s such a good way of showing that grief can manifest in so many different ways, and no one is perfect- they do things like yell because they’re scared, or overstep because they want to help. No one prepares you for grief, and you do an amazing job of showing that.

I can’t express how badly I want to hold Grian’s hand. To me he feels like such a lost soul that feels there’s no hope for him. I have so much sympathy for this depiction of him.

It feels so.. “doomsday” to me?? If that makes sense? The way Grian talks about wanting to go outside and experience the sun and the grass and the sky for one last time before he leaves for good. I feel the bittersweet feeling he must be feeling; not wanting to hurt his friends’ feelings but simultaneously feeling like there’s no other option for him and he just has to do this, so he wants to have a good last day.

It pains my heart so much but in a good way- this is all extremely /pos I cannot express that enough. I think it’s so impressive that you’re able to capture such intense feelings through writing- that’s seriously incredible and if what I’m feeling when reading your story is what you’re after; you’re doing an amazing job!

Ok, I don’t want to overwhelm you so I’ll stop there- but needless to say I’m super excited to see where this story goes and I hope you’re doing well <3

- binge reader

BINGER READER ANON MY HEART....... ohhh this is such a sweet ask and im so unwell abt it /pos

Words cannot express how happy i am that you're resonating so hard with my fic 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i feel so honored to be touching people's lives with this, i literally dont know how to articulate how much messages like these mean to me. And im just!!!! So pleased that you like what im doing with all these varying depictions of grief!!! From the start i truly wanted to explore different reactions and what i felt these characters would do when placed in such a fraught and urgent situation, and im indescribably glad im hitting the mark on what ive been aiming for.

Its been really enriching for me to explore all these myriad reactions to grief; i remember when i first wrote Mumbo in chapter 3, i was a bit worried about the potential reception-- but it felt so right to let him express his fear through anger. And with Pearl, ive loved taking a deep dive into her own fear and trauma and letting it play out in front of Grian during this situation. Literally everyone is so fun to dive into for all the reasons you've said-- Tango is in fix-it mode, Xisuma is pinning all his efforts on one desperate hope, and Scar is deflecting and trying to buy as much time as possible just to keep Grian alive a little longer. Their various reactions are so important to me, especially in how, like you said, nothing truly prepares you for grief-- and it often manifests in unconventional ways. Its been a real treat to depict that, and its something that i feel has some overlooked merit in the emotional realism department that im glad im able to bring to the table

Im truly so touched by this commentary, so don't worry about overwhelming me!!! Im just so genuinely happy people are getting so much out of my writing, its all ive wanted for such a long time, and finally being able to really reach people with it is a dream come true❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[sharkiegorath]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

aaaaaaaaaa thank you!! <3 this was so fun to think about!

5) RSVP Even if You Aren't Sure You'll Make It, Just In Case; It's Better to Have More Chairs Than Less (Gintama, E, Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toushirou) 

The premise is bonkers. I remember having a blast writing it; I just reread it and kept laughing. I also think it's one of my best smut fics.

4) Jobs(s) (Good Omens, T, Aziraphale & Crowley) 

I wrote most of this fic in 2017. I was very happy with the tone and themes but I struggled with the ending; it sat in my drafts for years and I kinda forgot about it. Then in July 2023 I learned there would be a Job minisode in S2, so I rushed to finally finish this and add one line about Gabriel. It’s darker and angrier than ‘A Companion to Owls’ but some details were surprisingly similar - it’s so fun to go back and read it. 

3) “when men like me come around,” my daddy said, “shoot” (Our Flag Means Death, E, Ed/Stede) 

Daddy kink mutual trauma fic I posted on Father’s Day. I'm proud of all of my OFMD fics but I genuinely think this one changed my neurochemistry

2) heart’s desire (Fallen London, T, the Jovial Contrarian & Original Character)

It took me a whole year to write, but I did it! Fallen London has a distinct style pretty different from my natural writing style, so I pushed myself to mimic it. It’s my most OC-centric fic - I wish I’d done more of that. Besides a fun dynamic, in hindsight, it was also about a player character minmaxing factions and the narrative double standard. 

1) Being Alive (Good Omens TV, E, Aziraphale/Crowley)

After S2 I wanted to write a fix-it, but I didn’t feel like writing a plotty, high-stakes fic, and I didn’t want them to quickly make up. I had some idle speculation (what the Book of Life does, America, Bethlehem, Metatron) and it coalesced around the Aziraphale pay-per-view scene and my desire to write first time smut without supernatural powers. Fun fact, I didn’t plan the twist with a minor character towards the end - I only realized it in the middle of writing chapter five and added slightly more evidence. This is the longest fic I've ever finished and it's so dear to me!

[crestfallercanyon]

20 Questions for Fic Writers! Thank you so much for the tag, @incorrectcoldflashblog !! I'm excited to jump in (and have definitely answered too long windedly, haha, whoops)

How many works do you have on AO3? sixty-six!

What’s your total A03 word count? I was going to guess like over 100,000, which I guess I was technically correct because it’s 717,161!

What fandoms do you write for? A bunch! On this profile I’ve written for The Flash/Legends of Tomorrow, The Maze Runner, Bandersnatch (Black Mirror), Teen Wolf, Inception, and recently have gotten very into Shameless!

What are your top five fics by kudos? All coldflash (pretty sure it’s the most active fandom I’ve ever written for at a more active time, so, makes sense): a) Lullabies for Little Criminals (719 kudos) b) distract me from my last disaster (600) c) Something Out of Nothing (557) d) getting back to fine (512) e) Didn’t Change a Thing (424)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to, and for the longest time I kept up with it. Then I got overwhelmed with a bunch of stuff around late 2021 and into 2022 and stopped. Now i’ve started again, but there’s still a huge backlog that I haven’t gotten to. Please know that I appreciate you if you’ve commented!

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I’ve written so many angsty fics, I don’t think I could name a single one, so here are my major fandoms (5+ fics) breakdown: a) This Time of Doubt (The Flash, coldflash) Len knows there’s something wrong with this timeline, and if he has to go through Barry to prove it, he will. (TW: Implied/Referenced Character Death) b) Red Lights, They Blink Your Name (The Maze Runner, minally) Gally’s going to follow that signal, even if it leads him into the dark. c) it’d be better if you flayed me alive (Shameless (US), gallavich) Mickey can't believe he agreed to let Ian shave his face before his fuckin' court hearing.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? a) Conflicts of Interest (The Maze Runner, thomally) My maze runner criminal law lawyers slow burn au. b) What’s Mine is Yours (The Flash, coldflash) Barry and Len move in together. c) Nocturne, Murmures Milkovich Turns out, Ian still has things to learn about his husband.

Do you get hate on your fic? Only once, and I actually deleted that fic in its entirety. It was the first longfic coldflash I ever posted, and it rattled me pretty good. It was quite nasty. Since then, never again! (and I wouldn’t delete it this time around, I don’t think, but it was a multi chap and I was so stunned by the comment I just never wanted to continue writing it, so).

Do you write smut? I have tried, but I'm not the most confident in it. I’ve got Scheherazade in coldflash fandom, and then two thomally fics: Corpus Delecti (which is a fic you won’t see unless you’re logged in) and then he goes down easy for me.

Do you write crossovers? I do not.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Not yet!

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? I genuinely don’t know how to answer this question. I don’t really have one. To be perfectly honest, if someone writes it in a way that’s compelling, I’ll probably enjoy it.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Probably Stranger Than Your Sympathy. I’m sorry, I want to, but there’s just some foundational things that I would change (mainly Newt’s characterization, I actually prefer how I characterize him now)

What’s your writing strengths? I like to think I'm good with characterization and like... individual internal narration. The whole reason I write fanfiction is because I love exploring characters' heads and their dynamics and their world (or how they interact with aus). So, I like to think that what I write is true to character and makes impactful scenes.

What’s your writing weaknesses? I get easily inspired, so I have left some fics behind (I am so sorry Aphelion and Shiva, I will come back for youuuuu); and then I have worked hard on it, but I occasionally get very long winded and have a hard time killing darlings for the sake of pacing.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I’d love to be able to write in multiple languages, but I’m only fluent in English. At most, I could maybe write in Spanish, but I still would be worried about it being accurate.

First fandom you wrote for? Um, before I really knew what fandom was or anything like that, I wrote Naruto fanfic The first fandom I wrote for knowingly and participated in was Fire Emblem Three Houses.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Ufda, this is such a hard question. I’m again going to break it down into fandoms — a) Something Out of Nothing (The Flash, coldflash) b) Thou Shalt Not (The Maze Runner, thomally)(tbh this one changes all the time, ask me tomorrow it will probably be something different). c) I think it is all these things I have left to say to you Now it's my turn to tag! I'm very excited to do so, so here we go (and of course, no pressure!)! @blue-summers , @its-tea-time-darling , @itsthemxze , @sampharos , @callivich , @michellemisfit , @pathsofoak , @mmmichyyy , @go-catch-a-chickn , @sophiainspace , @sproutwings , @iasconsumesmedia

ALSO if anyone else would like to do this, go ahead!

[voxofthevoid]

Kidnapping Wednesday #5. When will this end? Who knows! I don’t. This fic is past 75k, and I have at least 6 more chapters left to write.

CWs: grievous but temporary bodily harm, grievous and less temporary emotional harm, consensual snuff kink (yeah), interplay of sex and violence (that’s more violence than sex for a change)

“You are mad,” Gojou says with a mirthless smile. “Yuuji, I—”

“Who’s Suguru?”

After that, he tried to keep his imagination constrained to conversations. Sometimes, he screamed. Sometimes, he apologized. He knew he wouldn’t do either.

Gojou mouth clicks shut; his eyes being hidden doesn’t stop his whole face from radiating shock. Yuuji curls his hand into fists on either side of his body and waits, viciously patient.

He's imagined this a lot. These last three weeks, without even a single rambling message to indicate Gojou was still alive, Yuuji has had plenty of time to cook up all sorts of scenarios. What else could he do? The first week, he trained until he passed out, but that kept taking longer and longer and longer, until twenty-four hours passed with Yuuji’s mind still stubbornly online, and he’d wondered, once or twice, if that was Sukuna’s doing somehow, and then he’d somehow started wondering if Gojou was ever going to come back, if Yuuji was going to rot in this gilded cage until he starved and died, and then he’d thankfully passed out on the ground, waking up freezing and miserable the next morning without a cold or even a bruise to show for his stupidity.

When he slept, the dreams were almost a solace. The blood and the bodies were warmer than his bed.

Even Sukuna’s amusement was just dull background noise after a point.

“He…was someone I used to know,” Gojou says finally, the silence only louder for the breaking. “It’s not important.”

Liar, Yuuji doesn’t say.

He asks, “When you fuck me, are you thinking of him?”

Gojou’s nails pierce fabric and dig into skin. Yuuji watches, feeling much of nothing, as his sweatpants grow bloody at the knees.

“Sorry,” Gojou grits out like a curse, taking his hands away. He says, “Yuuji, don’t.”

“Don’t be like that,” Yuuji parrots, trying to nail the tone Gojou uses. He can’t seem to get it right; it’s too angry and not real enough. “It’s not like I’m surprised. Why else would you be so into a—what did you call me, a kid? Yeah. Do I look like him or something?”

Gojou is dangerously still.

The air is alive with his power, lashing at Yuuji. It doesn’t hurt, but it could. He can feel the tight leash Gojou’s keeping on it even as it writhes and struggles, and it’s a little creepy, how his body is so still when his cursed energy is raging. Yuuji hasn’t pulled such a genuine reaction out of this man even all those times he tried to tear Gojou’s throat out with his teeth and got as far as the blood under his skin.

But Gojou let him do that, didn’t he? It’s clear right now that he wouldn’t let Yuuji speak if given the choice.

He wants to know what Gojou will do to shut Yuuji up. He wants violence Gojou can’t dress up pretty in pleasure.

But in the end, all Gojou says is, “Not at all. You’re nothing like him.”

“That must be disappointing.”

Fingers curl around his throat, squeezing tight. Yuuji didn’t even see Gojou move, and he can’t help the instinctive tensing of his body, but he’s smiling too, grinning till his lips pull taut, and it feels like the first smile he’s managed since Christmas.

It feels like the realest thing to ever touch his mouth.

“Are you going to kill me, Gojou-san?” Yuuji asks; there’s a simmering glee in his voice that doesn’t feel like his own, and the words bubbling out don’t feel like his either—but they are. “Or are you just going to treat me like a whore again?”

Gojou reels back as if struck, arm falling limply away from Yuuji.

“Yuuji,” he says, and he sounds horrified, and how fucking dare he—

Yuuji hauls him close by the collar, snarling; his hands are trembling, fisted tight in Gojou’s jacket, and there’s a hot ache that thrums all the way to his wrists. Their faces are so close that Yuuji can see the pores on Gojou’s skin and the cracks running through his lips. They’re not glossy and smooth like usual, instead a soft pink that’s wholly, devastatingly human.

He doesn’t know why that, of all things, penetrates the rage crowding in on him.

He lets go of Gojou’s collar as frantically as he grabbed it, but his wrists are caught before they can withdraw and held in a painfully gentle but unyielding grip as Gojou retreats from Yuuji’s space.

Yuuji can only watch as his hands are led to wrap around Gojou’s throat.

“What are you doing?”

“If you want to hurt me,” Gojou says, his larger hands pressing Yuuji’s more firmly into his flesh, “take it out on my body.”

“I…don’t want to do that,” Yuuji says, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to himself.

Gojou doesn’t waste time acknowledging it. “If you want to be sure it’s you I’m seeing, Yuuji, carve yourself into my flesh.”

“Gojou-san—”

“I’ll let you, little beast. I’ll always let you.”

Yuuji crushes his throat just to make him shut up.

Gojou jerks like a broken puppet, proudly upright one moment and boneless the next, and Yuuji has a single, screaming moment to feel the horror of what he’s done sink in, and then Gojou’s gasping, his throat filling out under Yuuji’s slackened grip, and it should be pain, the sound Gojou makes, but it comes out as pure sex.

Yuuji tumbles from the couch in a helpless rush, falling into Gojou.

He’s welcomed warmly home, Gojou desperate and sweet from the warmth of his lips to the fold of his limbs. He moans when Yuuji bites through his lips and bares his bruised throat for Yuuji’s teeth. It’s blue-black skin that Yuuji puts his mouth to, sinking his teeth deep until blood floods his mouth and warms him all the way to the gut, and Gojou’s skin is as hot as the blood, strangely tender as Yuuji drags his lips to newer spots and bites down with more fury than want, but when he pulls back, he’s greeted with unbruised skin. The bite marks are there, fresh and raw, but the signs of his crushing grip have been swallowed up by Gojou’s skin.

It should be a relief, but it just makes Yuuji angry.

Gojou doesn’t resist the hand Yuuji curls around his throat. He pushes into it, his Adam’s apple a tempting bulge against Yuuji’s palm. When he tightens his grip, Gojou groans and shudders and wraps both hands around Yuuji’s arm, but he doesn’t pull it away, not even when the sounds spilling from his mouth change from pretty little gasps to pained choking. It’s slower, sweeter, hotter, and when something gives under Yuuji’s touch, Gojou jolts under him like he’s coming, not dying.

[seasonallyapril]

Unexpected Fate - Blurb

Aliyah was raised in a loveless family and the only thing that kept her alive to see the next day was the nature surrounding her. She has never found safety and honesty with the people of her town, but she has found peace and warmth within the solitude that is the mountain's of the edge of the Lucrian providence. Aliyah has made peace with her fate to continue her family’s legacy of being Luceria's top blacksmiths. But it all changes when her father sends her to Basgiath to be conscripted into the riders quadrant, with only a year to prepare for this burden. As it is a trial to survive or die-once rising to the rank of a lieutenant for Navarre's military-one’s pay will be considered significant. Aliyah is to become the financial resource for her family but along the way, she learns her true value and what real love feels and looks like. Her first year contains more than just being trained to be a soldier, but reveals a web of secrets that she didn’t know were being hidden. The catalyst-the kind soul-Liam Mairi. This is the journey of Aliyah Zarella.

..............................................................................................................................

This is not only my first ever post on Tumblr but also my first fic. I loved Liam's character in Fourth Wing and honestly felt that he didn't get enough time to develop more. I wanted to explore more of what could of been...not to give spoilers right away. Not sure if anyone thinks this is interesting but I'm writing it for me, just for fun. I'll post chapters if anyone wants them!

Here is the blurb for Unexpected Fate, a Liam Mairi x Original Character journey. I encourage all feedback, positive or constructive. I genuinely want to grow as a writer and become more confident in more of my work, so please let me know what you think.

<3