#you've never read that last tag btw

[ksrw2]

I don't think past 10 PM

[chuulyssa]

​​🇸​​ 🇵 ​​🇦 ​​🇳 ​​🇰​​ !

BSD MEN REACTING TO YOU SPANKING THEM.

↷ A/N ─ as usual please leave likes and reblogs to show support :D i love spoiling you guys !! now please tell me to go study i need some motivation :(

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ spanking, mentions of smut

MATURE THEMES, 16+, MENTIONS OF AND IMPLIED SMUT

*spanks*

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

momentarily surprised but quickly recovers

smiles and turns to you

it's like you just gave him a treat :D you can almost see his tail wagging as if he's a dog (he hates dogs btw grrr)

he believes that you spanking his ass gives HIM permission to do the same to YOU :( how mean of him

so he catches you off guard by spanking your ass

and you two end up chasing each other down to take turns spanking each other. whoever loses does the dishes tonight

"You've been very good today; you even completed your punishment for provoking me," he says, engulfing you in a cuddle after you returned from doing the dishes.

ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

chokes on air this time (yes chuuya chokes in every single scenario of mine but he's the one choking you at night so its ok !! :D)

he's surprised because wtf?? he's the one supposed to be doing that conventionally????

defo spanks you back but tries to be as soft as possible because he's a gentleman

i think this is already an hc but he's an ass guy so once you've spanked him don't think he's gonna leave u at all

i did say his spanks are gonna be as soft as he can make them be but i never said how many 🤪😇

"Count," he hisses. It's midnight, and you're at his mercy. After his long and hard day at work, he needs something to relieve his stress.

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

stops your hand mid-air because duh he already knew about what you were gonna do

twists and turns and ends up holding your ass and squeezing it

all the while you're like wtf is wrong with you

his eyes make it look like he's enjoying it sm :( such a kitty cat

im still mad they didn't give us a whole separate scene for his ass :< anyone who's read the manga, any pics you wanna share? 👁

"You need to buy me extra candy for putting up with your stupidity," he rolls his eyes, pinching your cheek.

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

his reflexes immediately act and you see rashomon from the back of his coat

but then he realizes its you...

and he FLUSHES. YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THIS MAN BLUSH

well now you have :D his poor virgin ass

not a virgin anymore once he started dating you u horny ass mf /lh

he has literally no idea how to reply to that

he just shrugs cluelessly

"I guess I should return the favour?" he tries to sound confident but ends up delivering the lightest, most gentle spank. He doesn't want to hurt you. He loves you.

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

DISGUSTED™

one, because he's another virgin (virgin slander less gaurr 💪🏻 even tho im one myself; its the self burn guys !!)

and two, for the last time STOP. MESSING. WITH. HIS. RELIGIOUS. SELF.

you're SATAN in his eyes, trying to distract him and make him sin (as if he isn't a murderer and a terrorist cough cough)

if we're being delusional enough he'll leave the room with a faint pink on his cheeks 🤡

definitely returns the favour at night 🤭🤭 (only if you're married tho!!)

"My sole undivided attention is all yours now," he hits your ass again. "Anything to say? Hm? Why not? You were all for giggling at my face today. What's wrong now?"

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© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

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[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

can i request Remus x best friend!reader where they have a fight and it leads to them confessing their feelings? would love angst with either fluff or smut ending

i hope you like it!! thank you for requesting the boy and trope i was just in the mood for! (btw i don't do smut for anon requests, but happily post it as anon if you've messaged me so i know it's not for a minor)

pairing: Remus x reader

tags: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, keeping up with my bookish! Remus and reader fixation, gn 

word count: 2.7k

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck as his arms squeeze around you.

“Hey.” He smiles as he pulls back from your greeting hug. “How are you?” he asks as you begin walking, leaving his arm around your shoulders. 

“Good. I had the craziest dream last night; I was pretty disappointed to wake up to be honest,” you begin enthusiastically. “Till you remembered you had plans with me, right?”

You playfully nudge Remus from within his embrace, and though rolling your eyes as you do, you say, “Obviously,” with a smirk. 

“Great,” he chuckles. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, you can tell me about the dream.” You laugh together as you delve into it on your walk to the bookshop.

You and Remus are browsing — reading the blurbs, looking at the cool covers and curated shelves and tables, laughing lightheartedly, chatting about the ones you’d each read already or wanted to read next. It’s nice, one of your preferred ways of spending an afternoon: one of your favourite places, with your favourite person. 

“Alright,” you tell him seriously. “Time for the painful bit.” You plop your stack of selections in front of him. He gives them an exaggeratedly serious stare.

“Hm. How many do we have to cut it down to?” 

“Three,” you say solemnly. “Maybe four…” after a pause and another longing look at the stack. He grins at you. “Been saving up,” you shrug.

Remus helps you choose, and with your final cut, you go over to the till. You swallow when you notice who’s working it: the rather attractive boy who’d been working the last few times you’d been at the shop. He had beautiful brown eyes, brown hair, a kind of gloomy look, and was always wearing cosy-looking jumpers. You’re a bit nervous when it’s your turn, and you place the books down in between you with only a quick glance and awkward grin his way. He says something to you, and for some reason, it throws you off a bit but makes you decidedly less nervous. 

“Thanks,” you respond, realizing he was complimenting your selection. He’d done that last time too. 

“You come here a lot, huh?” he asks, and it hits you: he sounds nothing like Remus. 

Why the hell does that matter? you think to yourself. 

“I remember you. From last time,” he goes on at your silence. 

You only like him because he reminds of you Remus, a little voice whispers in your head. Ugh, shut up, you push it down.

“Yeah,” you smile. “My best friend and I come here all the time,” you tell him, looking back toward Remus at “best friend.” You notice Remus glaring in your direction and find it odd but look back at the boy. He’s smiling more widely now, nodding as he rings up the books. 

He’s finished up, and you’re turning to go when he adds, “Wait!” He grabs one from the stack of free bookmarks with the shop name and number, and he writes another phone number on it. “One can never have too many bookmarks, right?” he smiles at you, offering it to you. “I like it seeing you around here,” he shrugs. “Maybe I can see you somewhere else sometime though?” 

You grin, surely blushing, take the bookmark, and say, “Yeah, maybe. Thanks.” You go over to the door to wait for Remus, who’s getting a book at the other till. You walk out together; he’s scowling. 

It feels weird to tell him about this; you’re not sure why… Because you’re in love with him… Again, Shut up! But you tell him everything, and besides, you’re actually quite excited. 

“You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

“Hm?” he offers with disinterest, not even looking at you. “Look.” You show him the bookmark. He looks interested now. 

“He gave you this?” he shoots. You nod, biting your lip in a giddy shyness. “Are you going to call him?” Remus asks with a sharp edge to his tone. 

“I don’t know… Maybe? He seems nice.” “You’ve hardly even spoken to him. You have no idea if he’s ‘nice.’” The last word comes out sardonic, and it makes you wince. You don’t notice him wincing too. You shrug and grab the bookmark back, and the two of you continue your walk in silence. 

You’re meeting your friends at the pub, and you’re grateful James and Sirius are already sitting at a nice outdoor table when you arrive, eager to escape the tense silence with Remus. “Hello, my favourite nerds. How was the bookshop?” Sirius teases, smiling at you both.

“Good,” you grin; Remus just shrugs. “What’s with you?” Sirius notices. “Nothing,” Remus grunts and goes inside to the bar. Immediately just turning to you, Sirius asks, “What’s with him?” “I don’t know.” You sound sad. “You always know. It’s creepy sometimes, the two of you; it’s like you read each other’s minds,” then, in a cheeky tone, “usually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re snappier than you meant to be. 

“Nothing,” he cedes, but he gives you a knowing look that makes you nervous. You keep glaring at him, and he just chuckles and gives you a quick side hug.

Remus is silent and brooding for the duration of the evening, Sirius and James having given up after several failed attempts at conversation with him. Occasionally, you catch him looking at you, but — quite atypically — you can’t read his expression, and he always looks away when you notice. He doesn’t seem to be hiding his looks, just avoiding moments with you when you look back… and it’s really getting under your skin. 

“Anyone got a light?” Sirius asks, patting down his jacket, a cig already dangling from his lips. “I might,” you respond. You’re wearing your go-to jacket, so there’s a good chance you have the lighter you use for the occasional blunt. Feeling around in your pockets, you pull out the contents and absentmindedly put a couple things down in front of you. “What’s this then?” You can hear the smirk in Sirius’s voice before even looking at him. You’re mortified when he picks up the bookmark.  “Maybe your bookshop isn’t as boring as I thought. Aren’t you cheeky?” he chuckles at you, shaking it between you.

You snatch it from him and say, “It’s nothing.” “Oh, c’mon. There’s nothing wrong with that. Is he fit?” Before you can stop yourself, you look over at Remus. You look away quickly — not missing Remus’s glower — but Sirius notices anyway, looks at him too then back at you, his grin not leaving his face. “What d’you think, mate?” he asks Remus, and your eyes go wide in warning, but Sirius either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Remus gives a “don’t care” frown and shrug. “What? No opinion on Y/N’s new boyfriend?” Sirius continues. Remus scoffs and gives a cynical laugh, and to your surprise, your hurt at his behaviour all afternoon interlaces with anger at this. 

“What?” you snap, and Remus immediately looks to you, some surprise in his eyes, no longer avoiding your gaze. “Is it laughable that someone would like me?” The mood has safely made its way into awkwardness, but you don’t care. “What’s so funny about someone wanting to be my boyfriend, Remus?” He doesn’t say anything. “You’ve been such a prick all afternoon,” you tell him, collecting your things. You turn to Sirius, saying, “Cover me, will you? I’ll pay you back tomorrow.” You’ve already started walking away by the time he nods. 

Your eyes are puffy from crying last night when you wake, the memory of last night’s events hitting you like an ice bath. You grunt and roll over, trying — but failing miserably — not to dwell on it. Until you remember something else.

“Fuck.” You had plans with Remus today. You’d agreed to meet at the park to start the books you’d bought yesterday. You’re not sure what to do. Do you show up like nothing happened? Do you not show up and escalate things? Or, scariest of all, do you show up and address what the hell happened?

After changing your mind several times, you opt to at least show up. What’ll happen after that, you leave to the moment. When the time comes, you get ready and head over. 

You’re surprised at how surprised you are to see Remus already there, sitting on the grass. Had you really expected him not to show? You hadn’t had the thought consciously — you would’ve almost certainly freaked out if you had — but your palpable relief informs you you’d been terrified at the possibility. It would’ve been so unlike him; you normally would never have even entertained the idea. But his behaviour last night confused you, and not being on the same page as him filled you with confusion and dread.

He notices you, gives you a strained smile; you return one in turn. 

“Hey.” “Hi.”

You linger awkwardly above him before sitting down next to him, a bit further than you usually would have. The silence seems to follow your cue, elongating itself in a way that never happened with Remus. 

He’s fiddling with the grass, not looking at you when he finally says, “About last night…” You take a deep breath, and it gets caught in your chest when his gaze meets yours. “I…” He clears his throat, looks down again, then back up at you. “I’m sorry.” You nod slowly, still just staring at him. 

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea or not, you say, “Why were you being so weird?”

“You really don’t know?” He doesn’t sound as soft as he did during his apology. 

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking.” You’re harsher too. 

He groans and, no longer looking at you, whisper-yells, “Fuck, you’re difficult sometimes.” You scoff and cringe away from him. 

“‘Difficult?’ I’m difficult? You’re the one being a prick for seemingly no reason, Rem. And now you’re blaming me?” “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying —”

“What?” you snap. “What are you saying? Because it seems to me that you’re never saying anything, Remus. Whenever anything tense happens, you never say anything.” 

“Neither do you! What do you want me to say?!” “Yes I do!” “No, you don’t.” 

You glare at each other in electric silence.

You grab your bag and stand up. 

“I don’t really feel like reading anymore,” you offer lamely, seething. He stands up too, following you. 

“You see?! I don’t say anything, but at least I don’t fucking run away every time.” You spin to face him, and it’s so quick, you end up really close to each other before he stops fast-walking toward you. You can hear his heavy breathing, see his nostrils flaring as he scowls. 

“Run away?”

“Yeah.” It’s mean but certain. “Run away,” he repeats.

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean? It’s not like you can’t stop me… Or at least give me a fucking call afterward.” You sound hurt at the end, and Remus winces knowingly. 

“I was going to. I was. I just didn’t know what to say.” 

“Typical. Fucking typical.” You turn to keep walking away. 

He groans loudly in exasperation and walks faster to stand in front of you, cutting you off. “Can you just fucking wait one second?” He runs his hand roughly over his face, harshly through his messy hair. You quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

When he doesn’t say anything for a few moments, you say, “That was more than one second,” and start walking again. 

“Stop. For fuck’s sake, just stop.” He stands in front of you again. “Why? It’s not like you’re saying anything.” Then, more softly, “And I don’t like fighting with you, okay? Maybe that’s why I ‘run away.’” The last two words still manage to sound sarcastic, but you’re whispering by the end, and you look down sadly. “Why don’t you say anything? Why does it have to be me?” He takes a tentative step forward and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. You look into his eyes, and tears well in yours. One falls, and his thumb comes up to wipe it off. You push his hand away but don’t let go of it. He lets you hold his hand, and you stare down at where you’re connected rather than look at him. 

“I don’t like fighting with you,” you repeat, whispering. He steps a bit closer to you. “I hate fighting with you,” he says firmly. “But you know what’s worse?” You look up at him and shake your head subtly. “The moment after you leave. Being without you. Especially if I know you’re upset or… angry with me.” He looks up at the sky, takes a deep breath, looks at you again. “All I want to do is comfort you. Apologize. Tell you the truth…,” he says desperately. “But I don’t.” This comes out harsh; the anger back in his voice but no longer directed at you. “Because I’m an idiot… But I’d choose fighting with you over being without you every time.” 

“Those can’t be the only two options.” Your voice is soft. He gives a quiet but honest chuckle. Then his face sets seriously, determination creeping into his features.

“Ask me again.” “Ask you what?”

“Why I was being such a prick last night.” “So you admit you were a prick?” “Y/N,” he whines. “For fuck’s sake.” “Okay, okay, sorry,” you say quickly. “Why were you being such a prick last night?”

“Because… I…,” he starts but gets stuck. “When you…” He shakes his head. “I…” He closes his eyes and whispers, “Fuck.” He opens them, looks back and forth between yours, takes a step closer to you. He brings his hand that’s not in yours up to your face, brings his forehead to rest on yours. He nudges your nose with his, caresses your cheek. “Y/N,” he whispers, all the frustration replaced by something much warmer. You shift the tiny bit necessary to connect your lips with his. His hands tighten, and his lips push softly but firmly back.

You take a deep breath in, like breathing him will fill you with life… and it does. You open your mouth, and you feel a groan in his chest where it’s flush with yours as he licks his tongue against yours. You let go of his hand to hold his face firmly in both of yours, pulling him into you. His arms wrap around your hips, pulling you into his lower half as his upper half chases your mouth. You kiss and kiss and kiss, soft but hungry, until you finally part, only your lips detaching from each other, the rest of your bodies still connected. Your thumbs rub his cheeks; his hands squeeze your hips; your noses bump into each other. 

“You still haven’t said anything…” you whisper. You expect him to retort that neither have you, to joke or complain or jokingly complain. 

Instead, after a gruff chuckle, he says, “I love you.” He turns his embrace into a full hug, his arms firmly around you, his head in the crook of your neck. You cling to him. 

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” he goes on. “My best friend in the fucking world.” He leans back a bit to be able to look into your eyes as he goes on. “But you’re so much more than that too. You’re the fucking love of my life,” he says with a heartfelt chuckle. “And I am done not telling you that.” You bring his mouth to yours again, kissing him deeply.

“You’re mine too. I promise I won’t run away anymore. I’m sorry I —” 

“Don’t,” he cuts you off with a kiss, shaking his head. “I wish I’d told you sooner, but I’ve loved every minute with you. And now we have the rest of our lives to do this too.” With a cheeky smile, he kisses you again.

“I love you,” you tell him. He squeezes you tight and keeps kissing you. 

[silenzahra]

🥳🎉 I'M FREE 🎉🥳

OH MY GOD. I thought this day would NEVER come, but this morning I finally, FINALLY, took my freaking exam!!! Which means I'm free at last, OMG I swear I can hardly believe it 😭😭

Thank you SO MUCH to each and every single one of you who have wished me luck with this, either here on Tumblr or through Instagram (or both! 💖). I'm not 100% sure if I passed but I actually did better than I expected! 🤞🤞

This is me hugging each and every single one of you 👆🥹

I still won't be around today as I'm gonna go to the cinema and the mall as a way of celebrating my freedom 😁 But just so you know, my tags are finally working again! So in case you've tagged me in something during this last week, feel free to edit it so I can be properly notified! (Otherwise I'm afraid I won't get to see whatever content you've tagged me in 😅)

Also, I'll finally have some time to properly think about posting my writing again or not, as I'm afraid the numbers have been affecting me lately and I'm still not too sure about sharing my stories again. I hope I can make up my mind about it soon, but just so you know, I do intend to bring back my first fic to Tumblr as next Friday marks a year since I started posting it 🥰 I'd say it's about time that Anything for him comes back to this site! 🥳

And as a way of closing the circle, today marks a month since I shared my latest story, which takes place at the beginning of Brothership, so I guess that's something to celebrate too! 🎉

I have no idea what's gonna happen in the future with my writing, but just in case, here's the link to said story, and btw, I'll make sure to reply soon to the people who left any kind of feedback on it ever since I posted it! Thank you so much for reading and in case you plan to get to it soon, I really hope you'll enjoy! 💖

This is it for now! I'm taking today off so I probably won't be around till tomorrow. Hope you're all doing fine! Love you sooooo much 💖

[aritsukemo]

Comfort at the Edge of Darkness | Himeko

Summary: Himeko is the best at comforting people, even if that person is knocking on death's door.

Warnings: Major Character Death ahead! ( reader ) This drabble was written with strictly platonic intent! ( Reader is implied to be underaged ) Teen/Pre-teen reader is implied ( whichever you want to envision ) Reader is also lightly implied to be a Masked Fool. Mentions of being crushed ( Reader had a giant pillar fall on them and end up bleeding out ) I still consider myself a new player to HSR so Himeko may be a bit ( or very ) ooc. With all that said, read at your own discretion.

A/N: Did I plan to ever write something star rail related? Yes, yes I did. Did I think it would be platonic or involving Himeko comforting a dying child? No, no I did not- 💀 Uh, anyways, this was spontaneously written at like two in the morning after reading this Dan Feng x reader drabble made by @milksnake-tea ( go check them out btw, their writing is AMAZEBALLS ) so I'm sorry if this is a bit sloppier than my usual works. I'll try not to let it happen again! 🙏

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @onmysundaybest

People are such liars.

It's not like they can help it. Like eating and sleeping, lying was just another humanly function the body nor mind could resist. It's impossible for someone to be 100% truthful all the time because even claiming that would be a lie in itself.

All that's to say that you've been told many lies in your lifetime and have spewed such falsehoods just as much. Others' lies are what led you down this path and your own have both built you up and made you fall from grace with almost no hope of crawling your way back up. Both have made you the enemy of many, but neither have made you friends with the few good saps you've come to travel with. Those pathetically soft and forgiving Trailblazers you've come to dine with, joke with, cry with, and ultimately, die for.

Heh. It was all so stupid.

That's what past you would probably say to you right now if they were here to see your hair being died red by your own pool of blood. They'd probably scoff, maybe even sneer at the sight of the bottom half of your body crushed under this pillar. And oh, the way they'd absolutely glare with disappointment and disgust at the sight of your smile growing like it is right now, or rather, who it was directed at.

"Miss Navigator, heh.. Come to send me off?" Talking felt like running without toenails. It felt like sticking a sword down your throat. It hurt like hell. But, it is in your character to joke at a time like this.

And what were you without this role you've been playing for oh so long?

"Y/n... You.." Her voice was unlike her usual cheerful mellowness. It was sunken, rasped by dreadful surprise. It was a tone you never thought would come from her ruby lips. To you, she always seemed like the type to be composed in a situation like this one.

Maybe she would if the person laying under this pillar wasn't you. Who knows.

"I've had worse done to me honestly.." You managed to force yourself to say, though it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You roll your tongue and that bitter taste begins tasting more and more metallic, though you decide to ignore it in the end.

"Heh..aren't you happy?" You asked, "Finally..at long last.. The-.. The Astral Express will be rid of pranks and folly. It'll..at last, harbor the peace it once had.."

"Of course I'm not," She whispers. You pick up on the slight quiver her normal voice deceptively masks, "Why would I be happy about something like this?"

"Why wouldn't you?" You asked, for once, with your genuine emotions leaking over your tone.

You couldn't wrap your head around a reason for such a reaction as the one on her face. Sure, maybe the aspect of your age may cause a heartstring to be tugged, but that would be more so out of disappointment because of the wasted potential—the extraordinary power and protection—that would be lost following your death, and even then, you don't see that as something she should be relatively choked up about. After all, with the luck the Astral Express has, there's bound to be much stronger vessels than yourself willing to join the freight that would give them much less of a headache. That Stellaron for example.

..Now that you really think about it, what even was their reason for inviting you on the train at all? They had more than capable people aboard already, and while the untapped power within you could bring worlds to their knees, those goody goodies would never think of using it. You weren't much for peaceful entertainment either and caused nothing but discourse amongst the crew members even after swearing to turn over a new leaf when you became a Trailblazer.

It made no sense. She made no sense, and to that, you sought out answers... Though, the one you received wasn't very satisfying; silence.

So you ask her, though with a bit of your typical sarcasm, "Why..Miss Navigator...aren't you jumping for joy over this thorn in your side finally being cut away?"

And she answers with sickening authenticity, "Because I wished to protect you."

You huff out a laugh, though you end up coughing up more blood than air. It was incredulous. After all, there was no need for someone such as you, younger or not, to be coddled and protected like some wounded birdie. Your character wasn't constructed for such a pillowy fate.

"You of...all people know I'm in no need of protection," You say, "It's not something I deserve or yearn for... It's utterly pointless to me."

"Is that really what you think? ..Because all I can see is child in need of nothing more than that," Your eyes widen. Himeko catches a glimpse of it for only a moment and it tugs at her heart strings when thinking about how it'll be one of the last expressions she'll every see you make. You, who though once walked the path of darkness with your fool's mask and caused many nothing but pain and suffering, she could never come to even greatly dislike.

..Because in her eyes, you were never a criminal or a murderer or a weapon of destruction. You were just a fledging who attempted to soar too early and ultimately fell out of their nest and into a dangerous forest of tyrannical wolves and manipulative foxes. You were just a child who was ripped apart and never pieced back together—who, at some point, must've screamed and cried for their mother to come and take them home, surely.

And in the face of such a person, how could she have wanted anything more than to whisk you off to safety and slowly mend you back together? To teach your body that it was made for more than just endless strife and pain? To let your soul become aware of the fact that the role of your character was no longer needed because she was here now to witness your vulnerability and allow it to spread free of consequence, cherish it, and shield it as if it were a precious gem?

"Hey... Miss..Navigator," She heard your faint call. She looks down again, her eyes at a sorrowful downcast as she asked, "Yes?"

"I'm...real' sleepy... Could I.." You didn't finish your sentence. You couldn't, but whether that was because you were adamant on dying wearing your cracked mask or that it was simply too much work to continue formulating your sentence was unknown.

Nevertheless, your silent request reached her and in seconds your head was resting on her thighs and one of her hands had found purchase in the only one you could still feel.

In an instant, her warmth began to spread throughout your body, replacing the warmth that had long since left you. It felt nice, kinda like taking a warm bath after treading through a blizzard to get home. And, as stupid as it was to admit, the feeling unclasped the lock that you had placed in the very back of your mind—unsealed the gate you had barricaded past memories your heart was never able to part with behind—and brought you back to a time you had forgotten long ago.

And for the first and last time, you broke character and allowed the tears to fall freely and wet your cheeks, all while a look of tranquility crossed your features; like a little kid dozing off to sleep after a long day's work of playing with the same broken toys.

And as numbness began to creep over your consciousness, you whispered to her, "Good..night... Miss Navigator..."

To which she returned the favor, as any mother would do, "Goodnight, dear.. I hope your dreams are forever sweet."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[fullscoreshenanigans]

S1 is so tightly paced that even when there's relative downtime, the undercurrent of tension is still felt (though some would argue the way its framed set the rest of the series up to fail and is one of the reasons I'd be open to a remake), and it definitely takes advantage of the medium shift with all the little subtleties it adds to result in a largely satisfying and emotionally resonant watch (other than things like the way Krone is depicted as a racist caricature in the majority of her appearances, which is why I can't give it a perfect rating even for my own personal enjoyment).

But yes, the relationships Isabella has with all her children fucks me up so bad, and while I'd say the one she has with Ray gets a disproportionate amount of focus at times, I'm also completely a sucker for how fraught it is (see also here, here, here, here, here, and here. I'm also a very big fan of this post by @nullaby).

Okay so...I watched TPN again and I remember being enchanted with this beautiful mature-strict lady, she is so amazing, I live for her personality. Such a complex character!

Hnwmwmsmenensnwnwnajjwhebebebebevdbrdbndsmnsjw, just look at her. She's so pretty.

LAWDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD- HAIR DOWN??? HAIR DOWN. GOODNESS. GRACIOUS.

[takemetothemoon-fics]

Perfectly safe

Title: Perfectly safe

Pairing: Killian Jones x reader

Word count: 863

Warnings: alcohol

Tags: Fluff, a loooot of flirting

Synopsis: Reader get's really drunk, and needs Hook to take care of her.

A/N: I am quite braindead so forgive me if I make some mistakes or anything in that direction.... Once again, enjoy reading :) btw, figured out the "keep reading" thing, so now it's not that long hihi

MASTERLIST

In the end, you are grateful in a way. If you wouldn't have gotten that shitfaced, you would never have met him

You are sitting in a tavern. It's late. You felt lonely, and since you didn't have a person to solve this problem with, you decided to use your only friend available. Alcohol.

He's sitting in a corner of a bar, with his crew. He's had a few ales, but is acceptably sober. He notices a person with y/h/c hair sitting at the bar, all by themself. He walks over to you, and from this angle, he can tell you've had one too many.

"Hello darling." He says, in a flirtatious way, trying to asses your state.

"Hello sir." your words are slurred. You look to the man who appeared next to you, not having a clue who he is.

"Are you alright, my lady?" He asks, his brow slightly raised, his voice deep and gentle. he can tell by the way you're staring at him, and your speech, that you've had too much to drink, but he's a gentleman, and you've drawn his attention with your beauty. He takes the opportunity to lean in closer to see the color of your eyes.

"I'm fiiiine"

"You are anything but, darling, let me escort you home"

"I do not," you hiccup, "need escorting home." you switch up the way you sit, showing him that you are fine, but the act does not last long.

"My, my, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" he says, letting out a chuckle. He takes a moment to observe you, a curious look on his face. You are quite the sight, that's for sure. He leans in a bit close to you, looking deep into your eyes. "The only thing you need to do, is trust me." he has a devilish smile on his face, and then he tries to take your hand.

You pull your hand back. "I do not need anything from you."

"Are you quite sure, my fair lady?" He says, his voice sweet, yet with a small edge of authority. "My offer is still open, if it is of your desire", He says in a seductive tone - one that would have a lesser person weak in the knees, so to speak, but you are much braver than the usual ladies he pursues.

"Leaaaveee" You push your hand out, in an attempt to push him away. You miss completely causing you to fall.

"Hm," He grunts as he catches you before you hit the ground. "That was most unladylike", He says teasingly, but with an air of seriousness. He lifts you up and holds you steady under the arms, letting you rest against his chest and begins moving towards the exit, assuming that his gentlemanly gesture had changed your mind. "We would not want to make a scene in this fine establishment, would we, my lady?"

You mumble something, but he can't make much out of it.

He notice how your breath is heavy, and the blush on your cheeks is rather intense. He gets curious. With a swift move, he puts you back on the stool you were sitting on. "May I ask what a beautiful lady like yourself is doing in a place like this, and all alone, at that?" He asks in a gentle voice, but his gaze is intense, and the slight edge in it makes it seem like he wants to know the genuine truth. It is almost as if he's a detective who has to figure someone out.

"That is-" Suddenly, you become aware of your surroundings. you notice people glancing at you and smile or snicker once they notice your current state. "I need to get out of here."

"As you wish, my lady", His voice is deep and smooth. "I'll take you away from this place. But, please, tell me, what's your name, lovely one?" he asks, taking an opportunity to move closer to you, as he wants to get his hands on your waist. You can feel the heat of his body as he stands this close, and it would be very hard for a woman not to be intrigued by such proximity.

"Y/N." you say shortly, trying to put an end to the conversation.

"y/n. A pretty name for a pretty damsel. Killian. Killian Jones." He says, as he lays his hand on his chest. "Is there somewhere you'd like to go that is more quiet?"

"I want to go home. Ssso tired."

"Then we shall", He says in a gentle voice, with a small smile. "I'll escort you home, my dear." He starts taking you to the door, and then, with some effort, he hails a carriage. He opens the door for you so that you can get in first.

"Please don't do anything bad to me. I am in no state to defend myself" you say, as you hiccup for the 1000th time.

"You will be perfectly safe", he says, a genuine, reassuring smile coming on his face as he enters the carriage with you. "I will be your escort and your protector through the night, and the nights to come…"

[reds-skull]

Fic recs - oneshots

So I wanted to post some fic links since I got a very long list. Some of them are very well known but many deserve more attention. And I see people asking for recs in the tags all the time so I figured a few will like them.

[also I always like this kind of posts lol]

Like I said I have way too many links (last time I counted it was 200 but that was months ago...) so I'll make a couple of posts if anyone is interested.

also this is almost exclusively ghostsoap since those are the kind of oneshots I read, apparently.

Starting off with (some of the) sfw oneshots:

Peace by Metrokid - Ghost dies and has a chat with death (it ends up well dw!)

Pencil Scratches and Ink by Fluffykitty9000 - Ghost thinks Soap loves someone else and shuts him out; Soap thinks the worst.

A Lesson in Trust by mothbeast - Ghost never revealed his face to Soap and Soap feels hurt by it.

He has to Break by GalacticKraken - Ghost has to torture Soap in a mock interrogation, but he refuses to break.

(Don't) Need You to Protect Me by FreeToWriteForMe - Ghost is down, and Soap risks his life to save him. Ghost is pissed.

Beautiful Boy (To my eyes only) by Whyhellotherefriend - Ghost knew he was beyond the ability to be loved. When he starts pulling away, Soap has to do something.

You shine like the moon and the stars in the sky by C0nfused_cactus99 - Soap hasn't been sleeping much and after a mission gone wrong Ghost finds out why.

A Quiet Kind of Caring by bailish - Soap finds Ghost taken down with the flu, and feels the need to take care of him.

Broken Habits by bailish - Ghost finds Soap struggling with his greasepaint on his way to a mission, and decides to help.

Shadow of Him by goth_iterations - Ghost finds Soap's journal, and is pleasantly surprised at what he finds.

Grab On To Me by peachytea - 5 times Ghost grabbed Soap by his tac vest and 1 time Soap grabbed Ghost.

"Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls" by SonTi - Ghost stumbles upon Soap drawing. The memory haunts him and he's intent to get to see it at least one more time (this isn't nsfw despite the title lol)

How dare you love me (like you've never known fear) by itwillcomeback (MandoKain) - 5 times Soap sang for others, and 1 time someone sang his own song back to him.

the broken dam & the starving hearts by iiruwu - Ghost has a bad habit of getting drunk and calling for Soap to take him home (this one is hurt no comfort btw)

Burn Bright by orphan_account - Ghost gets triggered in the shower after a mission, thankfully someone can always pull him out.

Place To Rest My Head by Louffox - Soap disappeared after an exhausting mission and Ghost went looking for him.

Slipping Up by ElizaStyx, starryathame - Soap gets drunk after a harrowing mission and accidentally confesses a bit too much to Ghost.

Warm Me to My Core by EmpressCirque - Soap and Ghost have to share body heat. Simon realizes he might love Johnny.

To be a Fire by Hallow_fiend - Soap and Ghost get sent into the heart of Siberia and have to face an enemy they can't fight alone.

Heatstroke Heartbreaks by Cutleryy - Soap gets attacked by dogs and Ghost and him have to face a sandstorm (this is technically one chapter but it's 20k words. Extremely good though)

Alright that's enough for one post, this is about half of them. If any of the links don't work or if anyone is interested in more, don't be afraid to say so!

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

thank you for the tag @ahyperactivehero !!

stress free tags: @oddessea @nix-nihili @read-write-thrive

number of stories posted to ao3: 8! Exclusively Dead Boy Detectives and I started in August, there will be more in 2025!

word counted posted for last year: 45,885 words

fandoms i wrote for: Dead Boy Detectives

pairings: mainly payneland, but also palasaki

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads:

kudos: I'll Love You Carefully - A cursed Edwin falls from the Tower Bridge and Charles rushes to his rescue

bookmarks: also I'll Love You Carefully (something about protective!Charles just hits right)

comment threads: The Road to Ruin - Edwin gets taken to Hell for the second time but Charles is in a much much worse mental state

work i’m most proud of (and why):

it must be The Road to Ruin because I am actually proud of my characterisation of Charles and it's my first attempt at a multi chapter fic, so that alone is enough for it to have a special place in my heart. I love really getting into the Hell aspect of it all and I think the introspective nature has something to it that I previously never quite managed to capture with my writing.

work i’m least proud of (and why):

probably How Could You Think, Darling, I'd Scare So Easily? - Charles gets capture by Esther and Edwin rescues him Tam Lin style. It was the second fic I ever posted but I have to say I should've worked longer on it. It's not bad but I realised that it could've been more angsty and it feels kind of rushed when I reread it now

share or describe a favorite review you received:

it was so hard to pick just one because I love every single comment and they all make me stay motivated and want to get better. But if it's just one, then probably this one:

(sorry for all the tags btw, oddessea dear, you've been such a huge part of my journey on ao3, I cannot thank you enough!)

I think this is the one comment that genuinely made me tear up because I had been struggling with the way I wanted to write this fic and reading that it apparently worked out was just absolutely bloody wonderful

a time when writing was really, really hard:

Probably the last few weeks because I have all of these ideas but also a lot of pressure (put there by myself, mind) to have them turn out perfectly. I won't get into any details, but real life hasn't been too good either for a while now, so it's hard to get into the right mindset sometimes. But it will get better

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Crystal surprised me a lot! I adore her so much and I want to do her complexity justice and while I don't think I have posted a lot of Crystal yet, I enjoyed writing my palasaki fic Bloom Like A Flower so much because it allowed me to show that while Crystal is incredibly powerful and has been through a lot, she's still a teenager

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

I think this one stuck with me:

He pressed Charles even closer to himself, as if he wanted to embrace him fully, so as to not let any of his demons reach Charles in any way. Charles moved to brace his hands against Edwin, somewhere between resting them on his shoulders and pressing them against his collarbones. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Edwin away in desperation or pull him closer until no one could untangle them anymore. Edwin was coming undone around him and there was nothing for Charles to do to ease his pain. It was obvious that whatever Edwin was seeing, hearing, feeling, it was paranoia and not something Charles could see. How could you help someone who saw the world burning and crashing around them while you were still standing on solid ground, mere millimeters between both of your realities? - The Case of the Turning Key

how did you grow as a writer last year:

A lot, seeing as I had never written fanfic before and had been struggling with my original works for so long that calling it "writer's block" would've been a huge understatement. So just the fact that I managed to finish 7 (!) fics is already a huge accomplishment for me. Apart from that, I got better at finding the characters' voices when changing POVs.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.)

shoutout to a few people as well!

I obviously have to thank @im-perfectly-normal-about-this for listening to my yapping about various ideas in dms and giving me feedback on my Charles characterisation! I appreciate you so much!

Also dear @oddessea for making my day with every single comment you write!

And then of course the entire DBDA Haunt server. Joining was probably the best decision I made in 2024 and all of our discussions in the writers room are so special to me.

Thank you to: @genevievefangirl, @ahyperactivehero, @read-write-thrive, @moonikabear, @dead-but-still-sarcastic, @zmorak (I'm so sorry if I forgot anyone! Y'all are all so loved!!)

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year:

definitely, little nods to things I enjoy or have done myself. I am good at projecting my own insecurities and problems onto Charles and of course the best example would be Days by the Sea - the agency goes on vacation in Scotland. That was entirely created from my wish to someday visit Scotland

any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

have fun!! When I don't pressure myself into writing and just do it for fun, I get the best results, not because they're perfect or anything, but because I genuinely enjoy working on them and then also feel good about finishing them. Having fun is already a big step

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year?

The Road to Ruin will defintely find an ending in 2025! Apart from that, I obviously have my F1 AU that I've been yapping about. A different Modern AU and then let's see what I'll come up with next 👀 I'm looking forward to this year <3

[bidonica]

So yeah about what I was saying in the tags to @metalgearstranding's post about Ocelot's parentage here. I finished the TPP side quest involving Paz and I have Thoughts on the topic of character development being pushed to the periphery of the Metal Gear games, which also include BIG BIG SPOILERS about the endgame of MGSV so if you've managed to get into metal gear unspoiled about that and wish to remain so, don't read beyond the cut. And if you decide to read, content warning for discussion of sexual violence.

So I've basically finished the main storyline of TPP -- reached the "Truth" mission, lost Quiet (I also got her back btw. Yes you can. Love wins) and now I'm two repeat missions away from finishing the main list, while I still have a few side ops to unlock. One of the side op series I finished first is the "find the wandering Mother Base soldiers" one, where you have to capture lost soldiers from the old Mother Base and collect memento photos in the process. The "mementos" are scenes you can trace back to Paz's diaries in Peace Walker, and I thought they were some side material whose purpose was to nod at the players who actually played PW without making it integral to the game. As a matter of fact, a lot of people skipped on Peace Walker, being a portable game and all -- even my brother who is a lifelong fan of the series and introduced me to it never played it, which I like to hold over his head because I am now Doing Metal Gear Better.

Then I recently ended up on this article and found out there was a whole side plot involving those mementos and the unexpected reappearance of Paz at Mother Base. If you played Ground Zeroes, you'd know Paz died a gruesome, gross death, with two bombs planted into her body by Skull Face -- one that had to be surgically removed from her abdomen without anaesthesia and the other in, well, her vagina, that exploded when she threw herself off the flying chopper Big Boss was carrying her on, causing or at least exacerbating the incident where BB and the Medic ended up in their nine year coma.

So in TPP there's this door on the third floor at the main Medical Platform. You can open it and find a room with Paz in it - alive, but with a V-shaped scar on her abdomen and her mind stuck in 1974. Ocelot and Miller will explain that the Medic was able to extract the second bomb at the last minute(*) and save her, never mind that she looks like she barely aged.

(*)I reiterate: from her vagina. Not sure how I feel about how sexual violence is used in this game, because on the one hand it is true that it disproportionately affects women POW and it would probably be disingenuous to not address it altogether, but at the same time these aren't the games most suited to handle this topic because they tend to be very, uh, adolescent when it comes to women and their bodies even when the context is rather dramatic. You also see it in the lingering shot on Quiet's breasts during her attempted onscreen rape (then there's also, of course, the implied offscreen ones) and don't get me started on whatever is going on when you defeat the Beauty & Beast unit in MGS4.

This triggers a flashback from Venom, where he basically overwrites the scene as you experienced it in Ground Zeroes with the scene as recounted to him by Kaz and Ocelot, and his point of view shifts between Big Boss and the Medic. Which is honestly pretty clever if you're playing this unspoiled, because if you unlock this early on in the game the point of view shift foreshadows the twist from the "Truth" mission. And if you, like me, play it after, you get to be like "aha!" at it.

The twist being, of course, that Venom isn't Big Boss but rather the Medic, brainwashed into becoming Big Boss' Phantom.

Again, there are hints -- when you start bringing Paz the memento photos, she will comment on them with a nostalgic, sugar coated version of what she said in her Peace Walker diary entries, because if you look at those, her tone is a lot more critical and at times snarky, because Paz was a double agent. Sure, she eventually had a change of heart and 1984 Paz might be reflecting that. But her phrasing, combined with her repating "I'm a student... I'm an angel of peace..." the whole time, points at this being the Medic piecing together a version of Paz that he knew; it's unlikely he got the full intel on her at the time of her rescue in GZ, and what with Ocelot not being there at the time of Peace Walker, it might be he also didn't include it in his mental conditioning at all.

The Paz side plot is possibly the only one that fully engages with Venom as his own character and not as a Big Boss proxy. It's about the Medic's trauma and guilt for not having been able to save Paz, who in his eyes was just an innocent girl. Which was a lie, but isn't at the same time because she certainly didn't deserve what happened to her. The last picture you find is called "Morpho butterfly" and Morpho was the name of Pequod's predecessor as the chopper pilot. It's all about Venom's mind struggling to deal with the loss of his old comrades, not to mention his own identity.

It's also the most effective demonstration you get of his brainwashing, because you see him being unable to trust his own memories, rewriting them in real time.

Paz, of course, isn't real. Venom hallucinated her the whole time. Her words in the audio files are actually his thoughts, which has some interesting repercussions, like was it actually the Medic who witnessed this?

Me finding a way to make this about Kaz aside, what I'm getting at is: this whole subplot is the only one that tackles Venom's situation as a PTSD ridden, brain damaged, brainwashed person head-on. It also highlights his compassionate nature by making his guilt towards Paz be the only thing that resurfaces from his old life.

The mental and neurological issues, the seizures, memory loss are all things that are established with Venom's introduction; when you rescue Kaz, Venom asks him to talk to him and help him remember, but in reality the mission support Kaz gives you is merely about logistics, and in most cutscenes he and Venom talk of the matters at hand, or of Kaz's desire to get back at Skull Face and Cipher. Venom's brain issues don't really factor significantly in the story segments or the gameplay (except for the color blindness that was meant to be a sort of Checkhov's Gun in the unfinished Kingdom of the Flies mission. My Roman Empire). Yeah they couldn't pay Kiefer Sutherland for more than three line readings or whatever yadda yadda, but this very Paz subplot proves that you can give him character development without him saying much.

It's that, in order to do it, you have to (casually?) find that one door that you can open at Mother Base, and go through a whole side quest that is entirely optional. You could technically finish the game -- or at least what we have of the game -- and never have to contend with the protagonist's specific trauma and actual personality.

You could argue that it works on a meta level, because Venom is the player and the player themselves is Big Boss' phantom, his impersonator. Metal Gear rarely misses with this sort of metanarrative, fourth wall breaking stuff. So keeping Venom the actual character to the periphery to center Venom the avatar of Big Boss, who is the avatar of the player, makes sense in that context.

But it becomes frustrating when you engage with Metal Gear as a story, which isn't just plot, but also the personal, emotional motivations for the characters to make a choice rather than the other. Which is... what drives the plot. It's something that happens again and again throughout the games -- character development as something that is, essentially, happening in another room. It's not that it doesn't exist, but it's stored away elsewhere and you don't get to see it. Which is made even more frustrating by how bits and pieces of it randomly emerge, and they are compelling -- I'm thinking of Kaz recounting his personal history in the Peace Walker tapes, or Strangelove's dying monologue (kudos to the voice actors on both accounts though, because they definitely contributed in delivering the emotional punch of those scripts). But it's always just flashes and rarely something you get to experience in full.

(the frustration is magnified in TPP when you have the main storyline just. Ending at a certain point -- because it's unfinished et cetera -- and then find all this arguably juicier material at the periphery of the game.)

[laissezferre]

@amarguerite tagged me for 9 books on my 2025 TBR! thank you very much, i hope you're doing well! i did manage to read 7 books in 2024, so hopefully a goal of 9 for this year won't be such a reach. first off, the polar reads:

I May Be Some Time by Francis Spufford -- currently reading this now actually, but only about 20% in. already mentally preparing myself for That One Chapter that is sure to decimate me

Shackleton's Forgotten Expedition: The Voyage of the Nimrod by Beau Riffenburgh -- i hear this has another cast of chaotic expedition members so i'm looking forward to shackles' trial by fire ice :D

A First Rate Tragedy by Diana Preston -- enough said. i never claimed i wasnt a masochist

The Last Viking by Stephen Brown -- roald! roald! roald! another tragic figure despite his successes. right now my sympathy's with the brits but this book is sure to sway things. and now on to non-polar, lest anyone think me Too Obsessed:

Orlando by Virginia Woolf -- honestly i shouldve read this a long time ago and the fact that i've delayed for so long is practically a moral failing on my part

Devotions by Mary Oliver -- a collection of her greatest hits. already 60% in actually but life's beaten me down and the last mile is proving incredibly difficult

Bacchae by Euripides trans. Paul Woodruff -- forgot what this was about actually but one day i thought i might delve into the classics for some Culture and decided on this work

Hamlet by William Shakespeare -- a reread in preparation for The London Trip, p.s. home office approve my visa already!!

Shadow Agents by Budjette Tan & Kajo Baldisimo -- volume 8 of a modern, paranormal graphic novel that i've been following since i was earning enough money to buy graphic novels. it has a netflix btw

i'm not tagging anyone but if you've got nothing to do this new year's day then consider this an invitation to partake!

[lord-aldhelm]

Twenty Questions For Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags @whitedarkmoonflower and @foxyanon!!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3? One 🫣 Although I am working on two more right now, and have a third in the pipeline somewhere. My problem is that I cannot just write a short fic, it has to be a novel lol

2. what's your total AO3 word count? 115,429 (this is all one fic btw)

3. what fandoms do you write for? The Last Kingdom!

4. top five fics by kudos: I only have the one, so ... lol

5. do you respond to comments? YES!!! I LOVE comments and will always reply!!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I have not written a fic with an angsty ending and I don't really plan to, since I prefer happy endings.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? My one and only fic Springtime in Saltwic lmao!!

8. do you get hate on fics? No, I haven't so far and I hope I never do!

9. do you write smut? Not really? Not exclusively. If it works in the confines of the story I will include a spicy chapter but it is not the main focus.

10. craziest crossover? Never written a crossover. Don't really have plans to.

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

12. have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I am aware, but I know a few of my readers were from other countries and they may have used a translation service to read it themselves. But not like a published translation, no.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? No I haven't but it would be something I am up for!

14. all time favorite ship? I mean... Aldhelm x Aethelflaed obv

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? No I think I will finish them all eventually. The issue is I am a very slow writer and I write novel-length fics so it takes me a while to publish.

16. what are your writing strengths? Introspection, feelings, dialogue.

17. what are your writing weaknesses? Including sensory descriptions in my scenes, chapter transitions, and smut.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't do it simply because I feel it takes the reader out of the immersion, and if if is done too frequently I feel it can be cumbersome. But I try to include the original Old English place names, and some of the words they would have used for things.

19. first fandom you wrote in? The Last Kingdom

20. favorite fic you've written? LMAO I have only written one so far, so I guess that is my favorite!!

No pressure tags: @daethelflaed @gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone @synintheraven@sihtricfedaraaahvicius

@thenameswinter99 @paula-in-dreamland @hardestysally

@poetic-fiasco @alexagirlie @sigtryggrswifey @itbmojojoejo

@garunsdottir @timetravelingpenguin1066 @bagheerita @solinarimoon

@king-alfred @arcielee @st-eve-barnes @holy3cake

[sunnyisinsane]

seven several-sentence sunday. Day

Thank you @bcbdrums ! :D I uh . Got carried away . Whoops .

The sound of creaking is occasionally heard through the silence.

My view is focused on one thing though, that man, hand gripping the screw in his head. He's gotten taller since I last saw, Spirit was the tallest man in the "group". I was always forced to be around his friends, what luck that they're all faculty of this damned academy. The sound of a leg bouncing is also here, it's familiar and annoying. I'm not focusing on that though, I can see him in the corner of my eye and I wish I didn't, I've grown to hate the color red because of him. My focus is on the freak nonetheless. Nobody has said anything, just sitting silently at this table. There's stitches all over it. Suddenly, to my right he clears his throat.

"Maka's been good, she's top of her class, she's becoming a great meister!" The man exclaimed nervously.

"I don't care." I glare at my ex husband, he bites his lip, making those stupid panicked noises before looking down, nodding. I was hoping that'd be it until a different voice speaks up.

"Figures you wouldn't care, I mean...when was your last visit?" He smirks, the stitching on his cheek gets pulled back freakishly from the movement. I stand up from my seat.

"You have no right asking that! I needed to get away from this asshole over here! Mothering isn't easy!" Spirit gulps, looking at me after I say this loudly. Stein just stands up as well. "How could you know? You've never done it." He says, blankly, still smiling. As if this is funny.

"Oh, please, you couldn't even take care of a mouse! Honestly it's a wonder Spirit moved back in with you! He only did it because he needs someone to give his pathetic ass a purpose! He's only here because I left!" I slam my fist against the stitched table. .

Stein scoffs, "Spirit's a grown man, he does what he wants. You should know, you clearly couldn't please him or keep him in line."

I gasp, horrified, before I can say something Spirit stands up, embarrassed.

"Stein!"

We both don't acknowledge him, continuing on.

"Spirit is a spineless whore!"

"Kami!"

Stein snorts, but shrugs.

"Like I said, he's a grown man, he can do what he wants. It's his choice to stop acting like a child though." I cross my arms, glaring at Stein as he says this. "Okay guys you're just being mean to me now." A sad voice says underneath everything.

At this point Stein and I have gotten closer, emphasizing our words as we speak, both of our hands on the table as Spirit looks at us pitifully.

"Well he chose me over you! You're just a danger to everyone! I'm the one with the daughter with him!"

"how's that going for you?" Stein grins, looking around the room, as if to emphasize the point that Spirit lives with him again.

"I can see your soul, Stein. You're anxious, you're getting defensive and worried! You act so high and mighty but I can read you, way better than anyone could!" I say, grinning, looking at his soul, my words are true too. Stein may be able to give quick responses but he's always been threatened by me. The man's smile drops, he glances away, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Guys! Please, let's try getting along! Why don't we try resonating?" Spirit says, putting a hand between us. We both get caught off guard. It's silent for a moment before I move away from the table.

"You're so naive, so stupid, if you think I'd ever resonate with Franken Stein!"

"I'd say the same about you," Stein says as he lights his own cigarette. Spirit frowns, pouting. "That has to be the stupidest idea you've had yet." The stitched man shoots a look at Spirit as he says this.

I get up, towards the door. "For once, I agree with Stein here." Spirit's about to cry and Stein just smokes his cigarette quietly.

Then I leave.

Yeah I went a bit overboard there .thanks for the @ again bcb :D I didn't proofread this btw anywho uh

@takeyourcyanide , you . You write . Hi. I am TAGGING you btw you don't have to actually . Do these .

[lixenn]

Dialogue prompts

I was going through my phone notes and found these. Since I have some writers following me now, I decided to repost the prompts (most of them are actually already ghosting around on my blog). Also some of you might get a kick out of them, so I thought I'd share them again. Feel free to use them and please tag me if you do, so I can read what you've come up with (❁´◡`❁)

-----------------

Prompt #1

"You are going to drive me crazy."

"What, you aren't crazy yet? I need to up my game then."

"Oh, shut up."

Prompt #2

"Fuck. Marry me."

"Sorry sweetheart, I don't put out on the first date and I certainly don't marry at first sight."

Prompt #3

"Hurry up! I need a dress I can fight in, fashionable but practical accessories and eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man."

"You going to war or something?"

"Yes, toxic masculinity is a disease plaguing our society and I'm ready to get rid of it once and for all."

Prompt #4

“How dare you! Has nobody taught you to never mention a lady’s weight?”

“Last time I checked, you were a dude.”

“Oh please, everybody who can backflip in five inch heels counts as a lady. Don’t you know anything useful?”

-----------------

These are old as fuck btw, no clue if they're any good. And you might be able to use them for KHR, like maybe? Idk people, go wild!

[sandushengshou]

thanks for the tag @swagphilosopherdragon xoxo

Rules: answer + tag nine people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

Favourite colour: Purple. And no, it's not because of Jiang Cheng. Him being a purple boy is a bonus tho

Last song I listened to: Like a Stone by Audioslave

Last film I watched: Monkey Man

Currently reading: Re-reading One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez

Currently craving: to not be sad. Haha that is too depressing but it's true. If we're talking food cravings... champurrado. If you've never had it I'm sad for you.

Currently watching: Hotel del Luna with Kareena (we should get back to that btw). I'm also watching Douluo Continent. I never finished it but now I will.

Coffee or tea: Coffee is bad for me so tea.

Tagging @eohachu @highwarlockkareena (we fight every day but tell me what you're watching and craving. I bet it's Jun related) @gege @damiemontclair @svibian @radellama @evenshands (💋💋💋💋) @greenwitching @furupops

Okay that's nine people but if anyone else wants to do it just say I tagged you 💜