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sage-green-matcha · 10 months

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WHAT WAS I MADE FOR? - ETHAN LANDRY ✨

“Cause I, I don't know how to feel. But I wanna try. I don't know how to feel, but someday I might” - Billie Eilish

Content includes: Reader with depression, Ethan Fluff! Ethan helping you heal! Angst ig?

A/n: I’m so excited for the Barbie movie! I rlly wanted to write something with Billies song, just because she means so much to me! My first fanfic ever was a Billie one, it was horrible! Anyways, to anyone who feels stuck or in a slump just know you’ll be okay. There’s people who love and appreciate you even if you don’t feel it. I’ll always be here if any of you guys wanna talk! My request box is always open! ILY guys sm 💛

You felt horrible. You had fallen into a deep hole that you couldn't get out of. You didn't even attempt to try. You missed many classes, your friends becoming concerned for you. You didn’t know what to do with life anymore. It had all collapsed down on you, you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t know your purpose in life. You were mentally stuck and you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t communicate your feelings because you didn’t understand them anymore.

You were happy, and you knew you could be happy again. You wanted to go back in time, fix everything and anything that went wrong. Just so you could save yourself from feeling this way.

Ethan Landry was the only one who could get you out of your slump. He knew exactly what to say, even if it didn’t always come out perfectly. “It’s okay…to feel like that. I mean you don’t always have to be perfect, Y/n. We love you for you” his shirt would soak up your tears, keeping you company as you cried. You felt safe with him. He didn’t judge or ignore you. He actually listened and gave his opinion on things. He was helping you heal and you didn’t know how. It was just Ethan being his usual self that helped you.

“Wanna go out on a drive?” Ethan stood at your room door with keys in hand, a baggy of your favorite snacks in the other. “Yea” your smile was brittle but it was still for him, and it made him melt every time you showed it.

“How’d you feel today?” You played with the strings of your hoodie, head laid back on the car seat. “Okay, I think? Sam and Tara were fighting all day, which made me annoyed. And then I was sad I think, or frustrated because they literally wouldn’t shut up” he was amazed at how trusting you were with him. You vocalized your feelings way better than before.

“I think I forgot how to be happy” a small frown was on your face, heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. Ethan looked at you with concern, closing his laptop so all attention would be on you. “You can talk to me about whatever, okay…? I understand how you feel. I’ve been there before Y/n. It’s not easy to get out of but you can do it. I know you can” his words made you melt, providing comfort and warmth with each one.

You told him everything about yourself, he collected all the information and stored it in his heart. “Why were they fighting? I’m assuming Tara’s therapy?” “Mhm, she’s been acting different” you mumbled, your arm holding up your head as you looked out the window. The air blew through your hair, the warm New York air bringing you comfort.

“Can I take you somewhere?” You could tell he was nervous when he asked you. “Depends on where you’re taking me” “You’ll see” Next thing you knew he had you climbing up some sort of small mountain, taking a look at your surroundings once you got to the top. “The Hollywood sign? Real original, Landry” he smiled as you teased him, sitting down on the dead grass below.

“I like it up here. You can see everything” Your head rested on his shoulder, Ethan placing his jacket around you. He was blushing as you looked up at him, a thankful expression on your face. “How long have you been coming here for?” “Maybe a year now, since we started talking” Your curiosity got the best of you, having to ask why.

“I needed to like…I guess remember you. How pretty you are and…uh, stuff” You held back a giggle, watching as he stumbled over his words. “Cause you know! The view from here is so pretty…it’s pretty. Like you” he cleared his throat, thankful that the lights were off. If they were on you would’ve been able to see his red face, embarrassed at what he has just told you.

You found it so cute, pushing yourself closer to him, his arm gently wrapping around your waist. “Thanks, Eth, for everything. You’ve helped me so much…I” you held back on your words. You knew it was weird, to confess your love to him. Especially now, you had found someone who understood every part of you and you didn’t wanna risk getting that taken away.

“You…you what?” He gulped and you shook your head, trying to avoid the question. “Oh come on Y/n, you have to tell me now” “I can’t, it’s weird” he knew nothing you could say was weird. Even if it was a little, he would still validate you with his opinion.

“Just tell me” You shook your head, hiding your smile in his chest. “Okay, how about this? I’ll tell you something first?” “Okay, but it’s probably not as weird as my thing” he scoffed, his nose taking in the soft scent of your shampoo.

The silence killed you, even if it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Your heart pounded harder with each second that went by, hoping it was the same thing you wanted to say. “I love you, Y/n. I know I do” his eyes were closed tightly, looking at him in amusement.

"You do?" "Yea, I'm sorry" A scoff fell from your lips, pulling him by his collar down to yours. He followed your rhythm, lips latching on perfectly to each other. He tasted so sweet, and gentle. like his personality.

"I love you too" he scanned your face with a smile, grabbing your jaw gently before taking you in for another kiss. "How do you feel now?" you bit back your lip, holding a smile. "I'm happy Eth, you make me happy"

“Think I forgot, how to be happy. Something I’m not, but something I can be. Something I wait for, what was I made for?” - Billie Eilish <33

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duckybarnes1917 · 3 years

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No More Moping

Pairing: Bucky/Sam

Who needs therapy when you can write fanfic at 2 in the morning for free?

Word count: 1727

Summary: Bucky is having a hard time dealing with his and Sam's kids growing up. Sam is there as a ray of sunshine (and dose of reality) for everyone.

Need to know: No warnings, all fluff!

Please do not copy or post this anywhere.

Cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad.

Bucky was tired; he hadn't slept well the past several nights. He was a ball of anxious energy, filled with worry.

What if she gets lost?

What if her car breaks down?

What if someone tries to hurt her?

With the ease of someone well-practiced in suppressing emotions, he stuffed the feelings aside and let excitement take the front seat. A genuine smile graced his face as he clicked on the Zoom link his daughter, Anne, had just sent him.

"Annie! How are you, hun?" Bucky boomed as soon as her face filled the screen.

Good, her hair is still green. No stress dye jobs have happened yet.

Anne's emotional state had been tied to her hair for the past several years. She went through 4 different colors leading up to high school graduation.

Her curls were thankful that Bucky would pay for anything she wanted, so "box dye" was never in her vocabulary.

"Hey, dad, I'm good." Her chocolate eyes were already shining with tears as soon as Bucky's face appeared on her computer screen.

Bucky's smile dropped when he heard the crack in her voice and realized she was about to start crying.

"What’s wrong, honey?” Bucky tensed, his mind already playing through all of the worst-case scenarios that kept him up at night.

“I—I miss you,” Anne choked out. Her head hurt from trying to hold back the tears. She had already cried all night, and yet her body seemed to have an endless supply of tears. “I want to come home.”

“Oh, Annie. I know, I know. We miss you too, but you just got there. School hasn’t even started yet. You have to give it time.”

Bucky’s heart twisted watching his only daughter, many miles from home, sit and cry in her dorm room alone. His arms ached to hold her close and take all the pain away.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad? You have to be glad to have some space to yourself, without me and dad in your business. Without Noah begging you to play with him every five minutes. Right?”

Anne shook her head. “I never got annoyed with you guys.”

Bucky sighed. “Well, how’s your roommate? Are you getting along?”

Anne rolled her eyes and wiped her tears away. “She’s loud. She’s popular and already has a ton of friends.”

“So, you don’t like her?”

As if on cue, Anne’s roommate, Heather, barged into the dorm room, followed by a gaggle of girls.

“Heather! I texted you, I need the room.” Anne’s eyes flashed with annoyance.

“Oops, I forgot,” Heather said innocently while still standing in the doorway.

“Holy shit, Anne, that’s your dad?!” One of Heather’s friends exclaimed.

“He could be my daddy any day,” another one chimed in.

“Oh my god, get out!”

“Sorry, sorry, we’ll leave,” Heather giggled as she pushed the other girls out of the room. “Bye, Mr. Barnes!” She called over her shoulder before she shut the door.

Anne groaned and turned back to her computer. “Is that enough of an answer for you?”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m sorry, Annie. You’re a tough girl, and you’ll make it through. And hey, you’ll make friends too; what’s not to like about you, huh?”

“You have to say that,” Anne said with a roll of her eyes.

“Maybe if you acted like your more fun parent, you would already have more friends,” Sam butted in, pushing Bucky to the edge of the frame. “Hey, Annie, what’s with all the crying?”

“Hey, dad, I’m just really missing you guys. I want to come home. Please?”

Sam looked at Bucky, who had the same pleading look on his face that his daughter did.

Why do I always have to be the grown-up around here?

Sam pushed Bucky fully out of the frame.

“Anne, you can’t come home. Remember why you’re there. It’s time for you to be on your own, to become your own person. You’re going to make friends, probably meet a guy or girl, you’re going to do so well in your classes. In a month, you’re going to be begging us to leave you alone. You get what you put in, no more mopey attitude, okay?”

“Ugh, fine. Put dad back on.”

“I love you, sour puss.”

“I love you too,” Anne groaned but gave Sam a smile and wave before he left.

Bucky slid back into view, this time with Noah sitting on his lap. While only 5 years old, Noah ran the house, constantly demanding everyone’s attention.

Anne’s eyes lit up at the sight of her little brother.

“Annie! When are you coming home?”

“Not for a while bud, I miss you.”

Bucky could see the excitement turning into sadness again as Anne looked at the disappointment on Noah’s face.

“Hey, bud, why don’t you go help daddy make dinner? Maybe he’ll make you a special treat.”

“Okay!” Noah jumped off Bucky’s lap and ran to the kitchen; a goodbye yelled over his shoulder.

Bucky knew he would ask about Anne again later, but all was forgotten for now; ice cream took up all the thoughts in his little mind.

Bucky turned back to Anne with a sad smile. He was on the verge of going and picking her up if only Sam would allow it.

“Why does he have to be so positive all the time? I just want to be sad. Is that too much to ask?”

Bucky chuckled at that. “How are we so similar when you’re adopted?”

Anne genuinely laughed and lifted Bucky’s spirits just slightly.

“You know he’s right, though. Just take everything one day at a time. It’s okay to feel sad.”

Anne nodded her head, silent tears starting to fall again. “I just didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“I know, honey.”

“I better go before Heather comes back. Thanks for the talk. Can I call again tomorrow?”

“Any time you want, Annie, I’m here.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, honey. Miss you. Be safe.”

As soon as the screen went dark, Bucky let his own tears fall. He cried harder than he had expected. It physically pained him to see his little girl so hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Not to mention the anxiety he had every day that something might happen to her, and he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

He felt Sam's arm wrap around his shoulders.

“I thought you said you were done crying after move-in day?”

“This sucks Sam, I don’t like it.”

“Come here,” Sam whispered.

Bucky stood up and let Sam hold him until the tears slowed.

“She’s going to be fine.”

Bucky nodded and wiped the tears off his face. There was a tug on his leg, and he put a smile on his face as he bent over to scoop Noah up into his arms.

“Why are you crying?” Noah wiped the wetness off Bucky’s cheeks.

“Everything’s okay. Dad just misses Annie,” Sam answered.

“Me too,” Noah pouted.

“Okay, enough moping. I made dinner,” Sam pointed at Bucky, “we’re watching a movie,” he pointed at Noah, “and you are going to bed.”

“I wanna watch a movie!”

“It’s too late; you have school tomorrow, remember?”

Noah nodded his head, his frown still pronounced.

“I’ll read you a story first, okay?” Bucky offered.

“Two?”

Bucky chuckled, “okay, two.”

After two stories and once Alpine was snuggled next to him, Noah fell fast asleep. Bucky had been sitting next to his bed for the past 10 minutes, just watching the silent rise and fall of his chest; Alpine’s soft purring the only sound in the room. Since Sam and Bucky had brought Noah home, Noah had demanded her attention too, and Alpine looked after him like he was her own.

Sam came into the room to see what was taking Bucky so long.

“What are you doing? Dinner is getting cold,” he whispered.

Bucky held his hand out, and Sam took it, letting Bucky pull him close.

“Do you remember when we got him this?” Bucky asked as he ran his hand gently over the fabric sleeve on Noah’s left arm. It was made to look like Bucky’s vibranium one, and Noah refused to take it off.

“He was so excited,” Sam said with a grin.

“I still remember the panic I felt when he asked why he didn’t look like me.”

Sam laughed, “like you thought you were going to have to not only explain that he was adopted but also over 100 years of Black history.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he was talking about the arm?” Bucky jabbed Sam’s ribs lightly. “Sorry I was keeping you waiting. I just feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow, and he’s going to be in high school.”

“I know, babe. Me too.” Sam bent over to kiss Noah’s forehead; he twirled one of his little curls in his finger. “Goodnight, Noah bear,” he whispered.

Bucky finally followed Sam out of the room and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening.

He didn’t feel relaxed until they were cuddled on the couch watching the movie Sam had picked.

“I don’t understand how you can watch these; after everything we’ve been through.”

“Don’t be so dramatic; it’s just an action movie.” Sam pulled Bucky down into his lap so he could scratch his scalp.

“You know drama is my main setting.”

“Trust me, I know. And that’s why I didn’t let you pick the movie.”

Bucky sat up, suddenly serious. “I know I give you shit about being so peppy all of the time, but you know I love you so much. You and your stupid positive energy saved me, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Buck—“

“I’m serious. I never in a million years thought any of this was possible for me. I never thought I’d be this happy. Not until you.”

“Come here, you grumpy old man.” Sam kissed him, sweetly, before planting kisses on his cheeks and eyes and nose. “I love you too. Now let me pet your hair and watch my movie.”

Bucky laughed and laid back down. “Anything you want.”

He knew tomorrow his emotions would roller coaster again, but with Sam by his side, at least he knew everything would turn out alright.

My masterlist

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #sam wilson fluff #sambucky fluff #fluff fic #tooth rotting fluff #winterfalcon

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greengrayeyeswrites · 3 years

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shit-faced in love (chapter five)

Title: shit-faced in love

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC (fem!youtuber!reader)

Word Count: 1,158

Warnings: Mental Health/Mental Illnesses are a big topic in this story. Mentions of depression, bpd and other mental illnesses. Angst, Fluff.

Note: This may be a Corpse x OC story but feel free to insert yourself into the main girls role. If Corpse ever announces that he doesn’t like fanfics about him, I’ll delete this.

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

Author’s Note: Hello guys! I am very, very sorry that I didn’t update this any sooner. I’ve had a lot of troubles with my mental health lately, especially my bpd acting up and making me feel so worthless I wanted to punch myself in the face with a chair... But I thought that I need to get my shit back together and post a new chapter. I am really sorry about the delay. All these likes I am getting on a story that I mainly write for myself is overwhelming... so a massive thank you!

Also HAPPY BIRTHDAY CORPSE!

— — —

Imogen ended up being MIA for two whole days. She didn’t update her Twitter after cancelling the stream and didn’t upload anything on her Instagram story and her feed.

The day after her bad mood swing she stayed at home and Baylee came over. The two girls were spending the day on the couch watching silly old-school romcoms; Buddy sitting in between them in case Imogen needed him.

They were watching movie after movie, falling asleep in between and Imogen felt bad for Baylee. She apologized for being so unmotivated, boring and weird today but Baylee quickly shook her head and told her that it was okay.

Imogen couldn’t believe how happy she was to have Baylee as her friend, but since she was shifting from black to white thinking and back to black, she couldn’t really feel the happiness she knew existed somewhere.

All she felt was emptiness and sadness. The episode lasted four whole hours and Imogen fell asleep crying in the middle of it.

On her final day in Houston, Imogen and Baylee decided to go shopping and Imogen wanted to spoil her best friend. She got her a new computer and a new phone—which Baylee couldn’t quite believe. But Imogen was persistent and wanted her to keep the things.

Imogen then rented a beautiful NCT green colored Jeep Wrangler; which the girls immediately tried out when they were driving to the Space Center Houston for their last day.

„You almost sounded like MrBeast, when you gave me the phone and Macbook“ Baylee chuckled, as the girls looked for a parking lot in front of the Space Center. „I mean I’m meeting him and the crew next week for the first time, so I have to practice“, Imogen grinned, feeling way happier then a few days back.

„D’you already know what you’re doing with them?“ Baylee asked, but Imogen shook her head, when her phone rang with a message notification.

„Would you mind?“ Imogen asked nodding towards her phone, that was peeking out of her totebag in front of Baylee’s feet. Buddy was lifting his head from the backseat, looking at his owner and her friend.

„You got a voice message from Corpse“ Baylee read the notification on the lock screen and Imogen gulped. „Would you mind playing it?“ The twenty-eight year old asked and Baylee nodded, unlocking Imogen’s phone and pressing play.

The first thing both girls could hear was shuffling in the background before Corpse’s deep voice rang in their ears. „Whaddup baby?“, he asked and a shiver went through Imogen’s body, while she maneuvered the car into a parking lot.

Baylee slapped her hand over her mouth, staring at Imogen in shock. Hearing his go-to phrase so close to her ears and so intimate was kinda scary. Baylee felt like she was eavesdropping.

„How are you feeling?“ Corpse asked, „We were kinda worried when you didn’t respond to the group chat. I know I go MIA as well but you usually told us what was wrong. Rae was worried and I was as well. Please text us soon, so we don’t have to worry anymore.“

A quiet breath left his lips and Imogen looked over to Baylee, who was still covering her mouth. „I hope you finish your MrBeast stuff soon. I want to meet you real quick!“ Corpse finished the message and the phone screen turned black.

„Oh my god“ Baylee let out and stared at Imogen. „I felt so bad for listening, Mo!“ She cried out and Imogen gulped. „I feel so bad for not telling them what happened. I know how worried they get when I don't text!“ Imogen shook her head.

„Here, here!“ Baylee pressed the phone into Imogen’s hands. „Text them now! Tell them how you’re feeling and what you’re up to today!“ Baylee turned around to Buddy.

„Buddy, I can’t believe I heard Corpse speak like that! He was genuinely worried!“ Imogen watched her best friend and shook her head.

She had to be honest. Hearing Corpse’s voice like that made her heart jump a little bit. What was he doing with her? She didn’t even know what he looked like, yet he made her heart do weird dancy-dances.

She knew Baylee was watching her, while she typed into her phone. She knew Baylee wanted to know what she wrote—and she would’ve told her, if she wouldn’t be so shy about it.

When the women came home this night, Baylee decided to crash over in Imogen’s AirBnB. They stayed up most of the night and talked about everything and nothing. They were talking about Baylee’s crush on her co-worker, that didn’t even notice her presence. They spoke about Imogen’s therapy and medication and how Buddy had helped her out of so many dark places already; and then, as the sun was about to rise again, they fell asleep.

— — —

They woke up to Buddy licking their faces, wagging with his tail only a few hours later. Baylee sat up and looked at Imogen, fighting her dog off her.

„You know what? I’m going to miss you.“ Imogen finally got Buddy off her and looked at Baylee. Tears filled her best friends eyes and Imogen looked at her. „Bay“, she whispered and crushed her best friend in a hug. „This week went by way too fast“ Baylee cried into Imogen’s shoulder. „I swear, before I go back to Ireland, I’ll take you on a vacy to Hawaii. So be prepared to take a few days off, once I’m done with my travel!“

Imogen started laughing and Baylee grinned. „Gotcha!“

After having a breakfast together, Baylee helped Imogen pack her stuff and load it into the Wrangler. Imogen was fastening Buddy in the backseat, when she closed the door behind her and hugged Baylee once more.

„Take care, Mo.“ Baylee said and squished Imogen’s cheeks. „I will.“ - „No, I’m serious. When you feel low or sad or empty , turn off the cameras and hold Buddy. Okay?“

Imogen smiled. „I will. Thank you, Bay.“ The girls hugged once more, Baylee clinging on to Imogen as if her life depends on it. „I just wish I could quit my retail job and follow you around, being your camera woman or something.“ Baylee sighed and Imogen looked at her.

Imogen’s brain buzzed. „Keep that in mind, Bay. Okay? I’d even pay you.“ Baylee looked at Imogen and the Irish lass grinned. „Whatever you say, big girl“ Baylee grinned and softly banged the side of the Wrangler.

„Go and take the NCTzen car through the states.“ Baylee grinned and stepped aside to her own car. Imogen grinned and climbed into the Wrangler.

„Good luck on these 1,270 miles!“ Balyee yelled, as Imogen turned on the engine. „Take breaks in between okay?“ Imogen nodded and started backing out of the driveway.

Baylee disappeared into the distance and a piece of Imogen’s heart broke, when she left Houston behind.

to be continued...

Taglist: @wineandionysus @chanbaeol @rexit-mo

#corpse husband #corpse husband fandom #corpse fandom #corpse fanfiction #corpse husband imagines #corpse #fanfiction #imagine #corpse x reader #corpse x oc #corpse x you #corpse x yn #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x oc #corpse husband x you #corpse huisband x yn

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ernmark · 4 years

Text

The Heart of it All (pt 1) Reaction

Spoilers under the cut

The episode begins with a sound like a mechanical heartbeat, like an EKG. I like that.

----

A year. A year timeskip since the last episode. Holy crap.

First of all, that’s a hell of a long engagement-- far longer than necessary, I think, and I think Vespa observed as much, too. Buddy’s putting off the big mission (and in turn, the wedding) because she’s scared of what comes next. I feel like she needs to have a conversation with Juno about that-- about running away from the things you want most because you’re scared, except she does it with more style.

I love the soft, gentle way Vespa talks to Buddy-- and the way she starts to babble when she gets excited-- and then when Buddy puts her off a little bit of that raw roughness creeps back in. I’d want to hug her if I didn’t think it would kill me.

Also, I love the montage of moments in between-- there’s plenty of room for fanfic in this year, no doubt about it. “Bad Cops 4: Guns Are Illegal, So They Use Swords Now”. Juno being pissy that they skipped his favorite in the series, the fact that Jet thinks car crashes are too violent but people getting murdered to death is totally hilarious. Rita calling Buddy “Mom”.

----

The moment in privacy with her and Jet was really telling-- and not just the evidence of just how much of her is robotic. This is a side of her we just don’t see elsewhere. She’s fronting, she’s evasive, she laughs nervously and without that controlled glamour she always has. She’s never this vulnerable around anyone else, even Vespa. (And you can bet Vespa can sense that there’s something Buddy’s hiding from her, and a secret layer of rawness that she isn’t allowed to touch, and you can hear how much that hurts her). And for all this closeness, Jet still catches her off guard-- and he’s been picking up perceptiveness from Juno, which I love.

----

“Damn. She’s a quick one, that Buddy Aurinko. Ever a thorn in my side.” It’s telling just how many times we’ve dealt with our POV characters speaking of past and future selves as different people. It’s very much A Thing, and I want to see it manifested physically by the finale, because I’m obvious like that.

-----

One of the things that makes me really frustrated with Buddy is that by trying to protect Vespa, she’s making her more nervous. Vespa’s not an idiot, she knows something’s wrong-- but without Buddy to help her understand it, Vespa’s stuck trying to guess randomly, and her mental illness is going to supply all sorts of worst case scenarios that Buddy wouldn’t dream of.

And Vespa? Vespa fell from a hundreds-story building and lived. Do you really think she managed that without some really intensive self-surgery? It’s not impossible that she has some bionics of her own. And even if she doesn’t, do you really think she’s never worked with machines and bionic parts before? And if she hasn’t, don’t you think she of all people-- the assassin, the thief, the master medic-- would be able to figure something out? Or find someone who could?

Buddy’s fear and pride are sabotaging her happiness. And that makes sense, because her pride is the first thing we knew about her. It’s one of her best features. Of course it would be her greatest flaw.

-----

I love that Buddy has to write out her speeches ahead of time, and critiques herself for repeating lines even when nobody else can hear them both.

(And immediately I wonder what she’d have to say about how much I repeat myself, and immediately I can think of her reply: “Nonsense, dear. If there’s no room to improve then you’re doomed to get worse or go stale. Make your mistakes so you can learn from them and then go make some new ones.”)

----

I find it so interesting that Buddy is impeccably organized and Peter is just a big ol’ mess-- to the point where you literally can’t tell whether his room is booby trapped or just that sloppy (And even if he is Just That Sloppy, who the fuck keeps an unsheathed knife just lying there, in the open? Really, Peter.)

(Also, I think it is official that all their “poetry readings”, “therapy sessions” and “whatever” happen in Juno’s room, at least after the first couple of weeks. What the fuck.)

----

“Jet’s danger is nothing compared to what lies ahead”.

In typical tiered dungeon story style, we’ve eliminated Rita (at the door) and Jet (upon being shot).

That leaves theoretically three tasks for Vespa, Juno, and Peter.

These three characters specifically are each love interests in a major established, endgame couple, which would ordinarily be a quick way to suss out who’s in which role.

Also, there’s a weird triangle of protagonist/antagonist going on here. Because Juno’s thwarted Vespa to protect Peter, but Vespa’s major gripe is with Peter, not Juno. And Juno believes and trusts Vespa, despite their bickering. And as much as he loves and trusts Peter, he has on multiple times arrested, thwarted, and called him out.

It’s like this whole situation is designed to thwart trope-readers like me.

My guess is that Vespa is going to have the be left behind/turn back at the end of this episode, when Buddy tells her the truth about her heart. That’ll leave Juno and Peter alone in the next chamber, when Juno finally confronts Peter about what he’s figured out thusfar (as the POV character, of course).

Or Vespa runs back early to rescue Buddy from heart failure with Jet, gets furious with Buddy for keeping this Very Big Thing from her, and then goes back to Juno and Peter to finish the job in a seething (and possibly murderous) rage.

#the penumbra podcast #100

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

hi! i don’t wanna put any pressure on you or anything this is totally up to you but would you ever consider writing a boxer!grayson fanfic/concepts/blurbs? i love ur writing and hope u have the best day💖xo

The week before a match has always been the hardest. Grayson could easily lose himself in the long training sessions and dehydrating himself to keep a certain weight for the match.

Tensions are high, his temper short and conversation scarce.

When he started boxing, it was meant to be a vent to get out all his anger and ease his mind. As a temperamental man by nature, Grayson struggled to keep a clear head and the anger? It was always in him. It felt like poison eating away at him, rotting his heart.

Whether he liked it or not, Grayson alienated everyone he cared about. In time, even Ethan was gone. Grayson didn't hold it against him though, genuinely happy Ethan had moved to Australia with the love of his wife, a baby on the way. There was no bad blood between them, but the distance took a toll.

That's how he found himself alone, using a punching bag as his therapy. Knuckles are safely wrapped, his vision blurring with the sweat getting into his eyes. His hair is falling on his dampen forehead, sticking. Every punch brings more pain – the kind you can't heal with a band aid and the kind you'd never see just by looking at the handsome boxer.

The world sees him as a man-whore who spends his millions on women and cars, but he was empty – just as empty as the bottom of every bottle he got to. Drinking is bad, he knows that. Hell, he preached that every day to younger generations, but he found solace in it – solace in the ability the drinks had to knock him out at the end of the day. Dreamless, alone and never sure he'd wake up the next morning.

Biting his bottom lip, Grayson groaned as he used all his strength, slamming his fists into the bag, imagining it's him. He wished he could beat the bad out of himself, to start anew. He wished for a new life, a woman by his side – the kind of happiness his brother had managed to secure.

It's ironic – Grayson was the brother who wanted a family and kids with the house on a beach in Australia and Ethan, the brother who wasn't sure he'd ever want to get married got exactly what Grayson wanted.

With one last punch, Grayson sent the bag flying, the chain holding it breaking with the forceful impact and while he was used to finishing his sessions in the same manner, the surprised gasp he heard informed him someone else hadn't.

“Who the fuck are you?” Grayson grumbled, turning toward a girl who was trying to remain inconspicuous, keeping to the shadows.

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” His roaring voice caused the girl to step back, frightened.

“I just wanted to talk.” She managed to say, breathless. She didn’t seem to falter in her wish to do so.

“This was a closed session.” Grayson lowers his voice, noticing the girl is uncomfortable, but he still couldn’t see her face. “I don’t appreciate strangers around when I train.”

"Sorry," the girl shivered as Grayson approached, his usually dark eyes filled with anger.

"Don't ever. Do that. Again," he growled; his eyes completely turning black. He wanted to make sure she deleted any footage if she took some, but when she steps closer, he’s the one losing his breath.

“Y/N?” His eyes widen, finding it hard to believe she had come to see him. After almost a year of no contact, Y/N, his best friend, had come to him.

“You don’t seem well, Gray.” Her concerned tone breaks him out of her spell and he swallows thickly.

“It’s the stress of an upcoming match. I’m fine.” He shrugs it off, dragging his forearm across his forehead to clear the sweat. He didn’t know if his heart’s speed was due to boxing or seeing Y/N, but the ache in his chest was certainly her doing.

“Is that why you can’t look me in the eye? You forget I know you.” She licks her lips, stepping closer with caution. She could admit Ethan had sent her because he was drowning in guilt of leaving, but she wanted to see him again. Even if the last time she saw him was also the time he broke her heart and told her to leave and not come back.

He often spoke in anger, things he never really meant. It was something she was used to, but she couldn’t take any longer. So, when he spoke the unforgivable words, she listened. For once in her life, Y/N listened and to be here, stand before him? That was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

“You’ve been gone for a year. You know shit about me now.” Grayson spat, turning halfway away from her to find his water bottle.

“And whose fault was that?” She purses her lips, leaning against a wall with an unreadable expression on her face. Well, he could tell she’s annoyed, but that was a constant for her in his presence. She had learned to hide her feelings away and in a way Grayson was happy she did. It was far too easy to read her in the past and he knew it would bring her a lot of grief in the past.

“You chose to leave.” Grayson counters, his frown deepening and yet her scoff made him soften.

“You told me leave and never come back! If you ever watched that big mouth of yours, you’d realize the shit you say hurts! It pushes people away and if you keep telling them to leave, they eventually do!” Y/N never intended to shout, but he always had a way of pushing her buttons.

In the past, Y/N was the calm to his storm. She could easily diffuse any situation, set him back on the right pat. She was the one girl Ethan truly believed could ever fit his brother’s temper. She was perfect for him in every way. But Grayson was determined to prove his brother otherwise and he managed to do so when she checked out of his life.

“You know what?” Y/N chuckles dryly, raising her arms in mock surrender. “I’m done. I shouldn’t have come.” Turning on her heel, she had expected to walk out, her mind at peace. She told herself she tried and that was more than enough – more than she owed him. In fact, she did it to remind herself why she was right to walk away, but the last thing she expected was for Grayson to run after her, taking her by her elbow and spinning her to face him.

“Please don’t.” He whispers, barely forming words as he chokes up at the thought of watching her walk away for the second time in his life. He made the mistake once, he didn’t plan on repeating it.

“Don’t what?” She didn’t make it easy on him, daring him to stop running and just admit he needs help.

“Don’t leave me.” Grayson manages, his grip on her elbow growing tighter, nearly painful.

“Why not?” Unblinking, she fixes her gaze on him, awaiting for any reason to stay. She had so many reasons to go, too many to count, but only one would make her stay and it was the cause of their last argument.

But he didn’t say it. He didn’t utter a single thing, simply releasing her elbow as she pulled back.

“You’ll never be able to say it, will you?” She narrows her eyes at him. Eyes that once looked at him with devotion and longing had turned hard and haunted. “You threw the words around so easily back then, but you could never tell me the same.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Y/N’s eyes fall to his wrapped hands, taking notice of the way he wrapped them.

Once upon a time, she wrapped his knuckles. She was his lucky charm. She was the girl who loved him so easily, without a doubt, but he never loved her back.

“Good luck. I truly hope you find what you’re looking for.” She wraps her arms around her, as if she’s comforting herself.

Grayson watched her leave, staring at her disappearing figure as he felt loneliness creep up on him again. He had traded everything for his career, Y/N included.

She’s right, he threw the L word around so much that it lost meaning. And perhaps he did love her, but could he give her anything more than a maybe? It didn’t feel fair to drag her back in his life only to break her heart again.

Y/N deserved better, Grayson decided. For the first time in years, he did the selfless thing – he let his good luck charm go. It didn’t feel good, but it felt right.

Drawing a deep breath, Grayson closed his eyes and hoped one day she’ll see that letting her go was his way of saying “I love you”.

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan boxer au #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan imagine

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amandagaelic · 4 years

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Fanfic Tag (bc, Sunday)

I was tagged by @waitingforthestarstofall and @disappearinginq who are two of my favorite enablers over here. And according to at least one of them, there are no rules in this game, which means my replying many moons later is all good (right?).

Questions:

Ao3 Name: gaelicspirit (same on FF.net)

Fandoms: Supernatural, The Young Riders, White Collar, Hawaii Five-0, Sons of Anarchy (all only on FF.net), The Musketeers, Daredevil, Teen Wolf, Timeless, MacGyver, Magnum, P.I. (on both Ao3 and FF.net)

Number of fics: 75 (+ 1 WIP)

1. Fic you spent the most time on: From Yesterday

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Raincheck

3. Longest Fic: From Yesterday (286,050 words)

4. Shortest Fic: Sacrifice (2,315 words)

5. Most hits: Devil to Pay (on Ao3...no clue on FF.net)

6. Most kudos: Devil’s Own (huh, I’ve never compared these stats before...maybe I should write more Daredevil)

7. Most comment threads: Devil’s Own (on Ao3), Ramble On (on FF.net)

8. Fave Fic you wrote: This is a toughie. I love them all when I’m writing them...I think maybe it’s a 3-way tie between War Scars, From Yesterday, and Conairt. The first two were as AU as I generally get (I’ve a tendency to be a bit canon-bound) and that was fun to explore possibilities with those characters, and the 3rd was basically the story I wanted to read but couldn’t find anywhere...so I wrote it myself.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Hmmm. I don’t know that I’d actually rewrite any of them. They exist in my mind the moment they’re being created and then once out there in the world for all to see, that’s who they are, scars and all. I have occasionally thought about expanding on my White Collar story, Fortunate Son to explore what happened next. Though, now that the show has ended, it would be 100% AU. I guess anything I would really want to take further would be a new story in and of itself, so it wouldn’t really count as “expanding” on it.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

I started another MacGyver fic last weekend called “Hello to the Night.” I’m about 25K-ish words into it and still playing it out. It’s a bit of pandemic therapy for me, to be honest. It’s really hard to get out of my own head these days, it seems. Premise: Set around S4 episodes 9 and 10. Turns out emotional trauma + concussions + experimental drugs don’t mix quite as easily as one might think. Mac’s dark side does more than toss him a creepy grin from the other side of a window when getting “lost in his head” is taken up a notch.

Excerpt:

Another streak of light cut like a white-hot tracer bullet across the darkest part of the sky.

“You out here making wishes on shooting stars?” Bozer asked, tapping the back of his fingers into the palm of his opposite hand.

It caught his attention then that Mac was clad only in a T-shirt and shorts; it almost looked like they were the clothes he’d gone to sleep in, not grabbed for a planned midnight run.

“These aren’t stars,” Mac corrected him, his voice sounding strangely detached from the moment. “That light is caused by dust and rock falling through the atmosphere and burning up—happens when the Earth passes through a trail of debris left by a comet as it orbits the Sun.”

Bozer felt his mouth tug up in a reflexive grin. “Is that right?”

“My dad gave me my first telescope when I was eight,” Mac continued in the same, oddly modulated tone, as if he were speaking in a dream. “Showed me how to find the constellations, track comets. I took it apart one day and he wouldn’t help me put it back together again. Said I obviously needed to know how it worked, so I should figure it out.”

Bozer remembered that telescope. He remembered James MacGyver’s stern face as Mac worked to rebuild it from the collection of parts scattered around them in piles organized by size and use. He remembered fearing that face.

“I did, too. Figure it out.”

“Yeah, I know, man,” Bozer smiled, watching Mac watch the starts. He frowned a little when he saw a hard shiver chase its way through Mac’s slim frame, though the blond man didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s like they were mine, y’know?”

Bozer’s frown deepened. “What—”

“And for a little bit there, it felt like he gave them to me,” Mac continued as though Bozer hadn’t spoken. “Like the whole universe was mine because he let me see it. But…,” Mac shook his head, his eyes distant as they tracked down from the sky and skimmed the horizon in front of them. “Then he took them away. He took them with him when he left. And I can’t figure out how to get them back. I keep trying, but…they’re just…,” he looked back up at the night sky, “they’re so far away.”

Bozer reached out and rested his fingertips on Mac’s bare arm, flinching back a little when he felt how chilled his friend’s skin was. He couldn’t see it before, but with that touch he realized Mac was shivering consistently now.

“Hey, Mac, you okay, man?”

Mac blinked, looking down at Bozer’s fingers on his arm, then frowned. He glanced around him slowly, tracking over to his left until their eyes met.

“Bozer?”

“Yeah?”

“What…what are you doing here?”

Bozer blinked, his eyebrows climbing his forehead. He tightened his grip on Mac, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s forearm until he felt the other man’s shivers through the bones of his hand.

“I was looking for you,” Bozer said truthfully, trying to keep the worry from his voice as he watched Mac look around him, over his shoulder to where the Griffith’s domed building loomed in the shadows, then back across the dark horizon to the lights of Los Angeles. “You decide to go for a midnight run or something?”

Mac swallowed hard, reaching up with a trembling hand to rub at his forehead. Bozer recalled his tired voice claiming his headache had a headache earlier that day—no, last night—in the lab. He dropped his hand and looked around again and Bozer realized what he was seeing was a growing awareness and recognition—and it frightened him.

“What the hell are we doing out here?” Mac asked, his voice sounding thin, baffled.

“Mac,” Bozer gripped his arm tighter. “I found you out here.”

Mac looked at him, blue eyes cloudy with confusion. “What?”

“I found you, man.”

Mac darted his tongue out, wetting dry lips, his shivering increasing until Bozer saw his teeth start to chatter.

“I don’t…I don’t remember…,” he shook his head. “I don’t remember leaving the house.”

Bozer folded his lower lip against his teeth, biting it to keep whatever noise that wanted to escape a prisoner. “Well, how ‘bout we head back there now?”

Mac nodded shakily and moved to slide off the fence. Bozer saw in a split second the ground was too far below him for Mac to land safely. He thrust out his arm and braced his friend, swinging his leg back over the fence to the paved walkway and pulling Mac backwards with him. Mac scrambled to find his footing, standing on trembling legs as he gripped Bozer’s shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Mac took a stuttering breath as if he’d forgotten that was what his lungs were supposed to do, straightening slowly. “How the hell did I…?”

Bozer shook his head. “How about we don’t worry about that right now, huh?”

Mac nodded, his eyes still on the drop-off on the other side of the fence.

“C’mon, man,” Bozer turned Mac toward the parking lot, keeping one hand on his friend’s arm, the other on his lower back. “It’s late and I’m cold.” He wasn’t, but it was always easier to get Mac to act if he was doing so on behalf of someone else.

“Yeah,” Mac nodded. “Yeah, sure, of course. Boze, I’m—”

“Don’t,” Bozer pushed him gently forward. “Don’t worry about it, man. Yesterday was weird for everybody.”

“Yesterday?” Mac asked, the word tripping out on a faltering breath as his shivers increased.

Bozer pressed his fingertips harder into Mac’s lower back, feeling the corded muscles there tighten against the pressure. “Yeah, y’know…crazy DARPA drug, Tesla weapon….”

“That was yesterday?” Mac asked, blinking owlishly at him.

“Time flies when you’re trippin’, man.”

Mac didn’t reply and didn’t resist as Bozer continued to guide him toward the parking lot. He stumbled over his own feet—any coltish grace that once guided him having vacated in the wake of whatever this was. Bozer steadied him, noting that while Mac didn’t quite lean into him, he needed the support.

“Easy, man,” Bozer wrapped an arm around Mac’s slim waist, pulling him flush against his side. “You’re moving like me after a night of whiskey.”

“That…doesn’t sound good,” Mac returned in the same spacey, confused tone. “You make some pretty bad choices ‘cause of whiskey.”

As they reached the car, Bozer shifted his hip to keep Mac propped up, pulling the passenger door open and maneuvering his friend into the seat.

“Yeah, well,” he reached across Mac’s shivering form to fasten his seat belt, “in whiskey’s defense, I’ve also made some pretty questionable choices completely sober.”

Mac huffed a semi-amused chuckle, his head dropping back against the seat. Bozer jogged around the back of the car to climb behind the wheel.

“Let’s crank that heat up, how ‘bout—” Bozer stopped as he glanced over and saw Mac had quite literally passed out, head tilted against the window.

His hands lay lax in his lap, fingers curled toward his palms, the left one twitching in what looked like an attempt to reach out, but not quite getting there.

“Jesus, Mac,” Bozer breathed, turning up the heat anyway as his friend shivered even in his sleep. He shrugged out of his hoodie, draping it over Mac’s bare arms and t-shirt covered torso.

Tagging: Okay, if you’ve already been tagged--or literally have no interest in this--feel free to ignore. This is a bit of a free-for-all here. @thethistlegirl @impossiblepluto @flowing-river24 @panchostokes @nativestarwrites @beamirang @21forestglades @blazeofobscurity @angus-mac-intosh @purplecolouredglasses @writtenbyblair @dashboardonfire @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @macgyverfever @thekristen999

#fanfic #fanfic tag #macgyver #wip excerpt #writing #multiple fandoms #favorite stories #supernatural #sons of anarchy #h50 #the musketeers #magnum pi #timeless #daredevil #white collar #doing this instead of something else #not exactly hiding #but still kind of hiding

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solastia · 4 years

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Author Interview : underthejoon

((If anyone wants to make a cool banner for this, please do. I suck at them))

Today is the debut of a new project. Whether it sticks around for long depends on you guys, but for now the plan is to interview one author a month. Creators are often underappreciated on here (or anywhere, for that matter), so this is me doing my part to connect our readers and writers in a meaningful way. Our first interview is with @underthejoon, someone whose work I myself have enjoyed for many years now. If you enjoyed this interview, please be sure to send in authors you’d like me to talk to for future editions, as well as any specific questions you’d like answered (except for questions about updating, that will get you a ban).

Where can your work be found?

I’m kind of a mess and so while I attempt to cross post, I’m not always great at it. All of my work can be found on my tumblr masterlist but some of my things are on Wattpad and AO3. I’m also underthejoon on both of those platforms.

Links to where readers can donate:

I made a ko-fi account ages ago that I never shared with the public because I’ve always felt guilty. Which is silly, idk why I do. But there it is!

Main bias (and why if you’d like)

So!! I have always been a Namjoon bias. From the very first time I saw them/the very first song I heard I was like yes, you. You are the one, I’m a goner!! He’s so wonderful and unique. He’s very mindful and creative and such a beacon of light to me. Plus, he’s very open with his humanity, if that makes sense? Like he is open about his therapy, his feelings about his perceived shortcomings, his excitement about finding place and things and works of art that inspire him. ALSO THOUGH, in the last year or so I’ve also become a Hoseok bias. He is just so dedicated and loving. He’s insanely talented and vastly underrated, in my opinion. And through all the back breaking work, he is kind through and through. He’s seriously just so warm and makes me really happy.

Hogwarts House :

Okay, the very first time I ever took it I was a slytherin. A few years later, I took it again and got hufflepuff. I like to think I’m a combination of the two but can see myself as more of a puff.

Describe yourself in five words:

Creative, Extroverted, Empathetic, Intuitive, Inquisitive

Current favorite BTS songs:

SO MANY, but I’ll pick 7 for 7 members. Some of these are old as hell but still currently my favorite lol. Love Maze, Love is Not Over, Outro: Her, Dimple, Tomorrow, Like, 2!3!

What was the defining moment when you decided, “Yes! I am going to write the thing!”?

For like fanfic in general? I feel like I had been reading a lot of it after “discovering” k-pop and then after a few months I was just like fuck it, I’m doing it!! I was always super into writing poetry and never thought I would be any good at anything like this but it sounded fun so here we are now.

What do you most enjoy about writing BTS fanfiction specifically?

I think it’s the community of writers. When I started my blog, I met a lot of really amazing supportive writers that I’ve managed to stay friends with and I think that makes a really big difference when you have people that can relate to you and what you’re doing.

Any tropes or au’s that you want to explore later?

I would really like to try writing some sort of supernatural creature fics. I’ve had this werewolf love triangle universe planned out forever that I would like to eventually write. Maybe like a workplace romance?

Which of your fics would you suggest for new readers?

For a completed series i’d say Piece by Piece. My WIP series, Love is Not Over is another one. For a one-shot I’d say, For You. Maybe the sweetness/make it right drabbles too.

Which of your fics is your favorite?

Piece by Piece, no doubt. I really feel proud of it and I have a hard time admitting I like anything I write.

What other fandoms do you wish you had the time to write for?

I used to write for EXO, Got7 and sometimes Monsta X and I miss it sometimes but also, I feel pretty contented in just writing for BTS. There’s a lot of inspiration there and I always felt I was being pulled in too many directions by my readers when I wrote for multiple fandoms.

What are your writing goals for the upcoming year?

I’d like to finish three series I have planned, get caught up on my collab fics and at least finish an outline for my original fiction piece I’ve been putting off!

Which writers do you read religiously?

There’s so many amazing writers on tumblr and I try as hard as I can to keep up with my mutuals when they put stuff out but sometimes it’s hard! I’m gonna be really brief because otherwise my list could go on and on. Okay, first and foremost, Shanna (@kpopfanfictrash) - she’s my best friend and a fabulous, wonderful writer. I would just like to give her a special shout out because not only does she entertain me for hours with her writing, she is very supportive of mine. Other authors I adore as humans and content creators and keep up with most regularly are @floralseokjin and @lamourche !

What is the weirdest thing you’ve had to google in the name of writing?

LOL. Hmm… I’m really boring and feel like I don’t really google that much when writing except maybe like different sex positions when i need a visual or synonyms to certain words. I’ve found some good porn though? Because visuals do help me.

Reader/OC fics within this fandom are often still looked down on and we all have to work hard to make them good enough for readers to look past their reputation. How do you combat the cringe?

TBH, I don’t think that responsibility lies on us as writers. If people don’t like certain types of writing, that’s on them and they can avoid it. Reader insert/oc fics are just as valid a genre as any. I’ve read some of the most beautiful, creative stories on this platform, some of which could be published if names were changed/reader was switched to a named OC. There’s something out there for everyone and it’s all subjective. While I might find certain things super cringey, others love it. To each their own as long as they aren’t shoving it in the faces of the people they’re writing about or being disrespectful, you know?

What is your personal guilty (or not-so-guilty) pleasure trope?

MUTUAL PINING/FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I feel like it’s so basic but I fucking love that trope and I think so many people do it so beautifully it is my absolute favorite.

What is something that you see often in other fanfics that drives you insane?

I think the only thing that really bothers me is when people romanticize abuse or other toxic/triggering topics.

Are any of the boys or ships more difficult for you to write than others?

I think I have the hardest time writing for Jimin and Taehyung but only because I feel I am the most similar to them and for whatever reason that deters me from writing about them often.

We all think we are the most hilarious person there is (even if we won’t admit it), so what is one line or scenario of yours that you like to go back to and giggle over?

Okay this was actually really difficult for me because I don’t write like any humor and don’t think I’m good at LOL. I think my only attempt at humorous writing was The New Guy in which the reader is high off her ass lying on the front lawn and thinking the world is ending then accusing Namjoon of being the Grim Reaper when he comes looking for her.

ONLY IF YOU WANT TO - A scenario as long or short as you want. Maybe 250 words or less. Godzilla is attacking the city and BTS is your rescue crew. How screwed are you?

“D-danger, you say?” Seokjin stutters.

“G-giant lizard monster headed this way?” Hoseok chokes.

The pair exchange glances then turn their focus towards you. Seokjin jerks his head towards the door and you nod in return.

“I hear what you’re saying, gentlemen,” Hoseok says as he stands on shaky legs. He grabs your hand as if to instruct you to do the same.

“And as much as we would LOVE to help you…” His grip is tighter now and you know what comes next.

Before he can finish, Seokjin shoots up from his chair and makes a mad dash towards the door. “Now, now, run, holy shit, NOW!”

Hoseok joins his friend in his haste to evacuate, dragging your nearly petrified form behind him. “No way in hell are we getting anywhere near that thing!”

Seokjin and Hoseok babble horrified nonsense between them but you can’t really decipher much of it. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you replay the name “Godzilla” in your brain.

They wanted you to rescue the city? What were they thinking?

When you reach Seokjin’s car, you have a brief moment of clarity. There are lives at stake, after all. How can you really just abandon the city when it needs a hero?

“What about everybody else?” you ask, voice small and fearful.

“Everybody else?” Seokjin huffs, putting the car in gear. He hardly gives your question a thought before he peels out of the parking lot. “Jungkook can handle everybody else. I raised him on my back, you know? It’s the least he can do!”

#bangtan bards #bts #bts writers #underthejoon #bts fanfic #bts authors #solastia #author interview

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boxed-n-bottled-arson · 4 years

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Fanfic Game

This is a game the dorks played because they were bored.

Here is how it works: We choose a prompt and write something in five minutes, but only say what the last sentence of what we wrote was. Then, this happens.

Dork 2: This is extremely crack. We are both terrible.

Janus goes to therapy

Warnings: Alcohol, depression, swearing

D1 (Dork 1):

He watched helpless as the door closed behind her. Janus was pushed to put it simply. He decided to try therapy, yet it definitely was not what he expected. Now he sat in his therapists room after he had caused her to leave. This was fantastic. Sighing, he stood up from the somewhat comfortable couch, and walked out of the therapy office. He was glad he hadn't booked those extra appointments he thought about. He opened his car door and sat in the front seat. Taking a long sigh, he slammed his head into the steering wheel, causing a large honk. He was the only person that would end up in this situation. He had ended arguing with his therapist. "Fuck my life" he murmured to himself. It was a solid four minutes before he ended up, actually starting his car.

D2 (Dork 2):

The car started and he moved out of the mental asylum parking lot. The streets were empty and he could only hear his car on the road. He ended up seeing a liquor store and decided to get himself some nice fresh alcohol for the ride. His car, shitty as hell takes a few minutes for the car door to finally get open. Other people from the sidelines watch him like he is crazy trying to open his car door. He goes into the store and remembers he forgot his id and decides to just steal alcohol from the store. Glass bottles break and the cashier tries to stop him. Janus runs out of the store, getting back into the car. The car door flies away and Janus drives and drives. He doesn’t care anymore, and he can’t help but love being such a daredevil. He just wishes one day miss Crofter’s would love his sexy smile.

D1:

He just wishes one day Ms.Crofters would love his sexy smile. Maybe that would keep her from leaving his therapy appointment. Besides being extremely pissed, he was also sad. Sad that he, out of all people, caused his therapist, the person that was supposed to help him, leave. Maybe this proved that all his insecurities were correct, maybe putting on a facade was the right thing to do. Maybe acting stronger would be better than acting like he actually is under that shell. He wishes he could show the world that person. The person who just wants to make the world better and brighter for him and his friends. He laughed to himself, a small, hollow, sad laugh. It was ironic that he seemed to have two faces, just like his name. Wow he was pathetic, just like he thought. No one wants to be around him, not his friends, not his therapist, not himself.

D2:

He sits on the edge of the road, questioning his humanity. Was it really the right thing to do? Getting to please everyone around him isn’t helping him. He may be tough and strong, but it isn’t enough. He just wants someone to care for him but nothing ever works. He sips the last drop of his whisky and throws it to the road watching as glass shatters everywhere in the black night. He starts to wander around more, thinking about kites and kittens until he walks back up to miss crofters office. He doesn’t know why he is here, but he is. Janus sees her face again, and miss crofters can obviously tell he isn’t doing too good. Miss crofters can’t help but give him a hug to make the pain go away.

The server Virgil needs

Warnings: swearing, mentioned death, anxiety, food

D2:

It was just for one night. Virgil was not ready to go to this party, but Logan insisted since he needed his daily dose of socialization every once in a while, or all the time. He looks at the front door, preparing himself for what to come and opens the door. Music blasts in his ears, the floor literally vibrating. Virgil does his classic “put hood over head to avoid talking to people”. Then, he decided to go into the next room he saw, where there might not be too many people. The door creaks open to even more noise than before and to shock he actually sees people he knows. Roman, the big boy is hanging from the chandelier, acting like he is flying like a crazy person. He turns over to see Remus the crackhead, trying to shoot him like he is bird. What the fuck is going on???

D1:

Virgil just wanted to go to his friend's house, not have this. Staring at his friends house, Virgil felt his breathing hitch. Why was their loud music and speakers? Why the fuck were there decorations? And why the fuck did he honestly have to be here. Virgil thought about a few way to get out of this situation. He could leave, like honestly just walk back to his house, his mom would be confused but it would be a way out. He die, just curl right there in the grass and suffocate. He could stand in the road in wait for impeanding doom. Maybe find Patton and get hugged to death. Anything but go inside. Wasn't there a neighborhood lake, he could drown in.

D2:

Wasn’t there a neighborhood lake he could drown in? He leans back in one of the folding chairs and looks up at the stars. Why did he have to be here right now? The smell of fire from the grill fills the outside, and Virgil really wants a taste but he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone else to get it. Logan appears before him and gives him a plate of an assortment of different barbecue type foods, burgers, hot dogs, etc. Virgil, forced to take the plate from Logan decides to start taking bites off his food.

“I can’t let you sit here and starve Virgil,” Logan says, staring to eat off his own plate as well. Virgil thanks the heavens that Logan is able to be his server tonight.

D1:

Virgil thanks the heavens Logan was able to be his server tonight. Logan sat next Virgil on the grass. The sun was just starting to set. The Ray's washing over both of them. Virgil really wasn't interested in the food. He was just enjoying the sunset, and his friends presence. It was a weird day, not normal really at all, but hey it ended alright. That's all that mattered, right?

S’mores prank

Warnings: food, fire, briefly mentioned bugs, swearing

D1:

The fire was getting closer. Virgil hissed at the large orange flames in the fire pit, not enjoying how warm they made him while he was already wearing a hoodie. "Virge, that's not gonna make them go away," Patton said before shoving another marshmallow in his mouth. "Patton, we conquered those marshmallows for s'mores. If you eat all of them we won't be able to make s’mores." Logan said from his seat on a log next to Roman. "Come on Lo stop being a sorry sport, we can always conquer more!" Roman said, throwing a marshmallow into the flames. The sides had decided to go camping in the mind palace, well Roman decided he wanted to go camping and dragged them along. And Virgil was hating every second of it. He had to sleep on the ground, in a clostraphoic tent, and was surrounded by bugs. This was a shit situation for the emo side, and he was gonna make it hell for Roman.

D2:

Virgil started to work on his new deviant plan, ready to get at Roman. Roman has been pranking him for all these years and this time he is going to pay for it with good old sweet karma. He goes over and starts messing with the s’mores, putting his own ‘special’ ingredients to the mix. Some nice laxatives, and oh boy was this gonna be fun watching Roman suffer. Roman is laughing as the fire grew bigger, asking for a nice treat to have with the fire. Virgil couldn’t help but smile at what was about to happen next.

D1:

Virgil couldn't help but smile at what was about to happen next. Everything was about to fall in place, a perfect picture plan, Roman would never cross Virgil like this again. "Ahh, I'm gonna turn in for the night guys." Patton exclaimed with a yawn. "Padre, you're gonna go to sleep this early? Come on you should stay," Roman said. Logan stood up, "actually Patton is right, we can continue this 'bonding exercise' tomorrow, we should all go to sleep so Thomas can be in top conditions tomorrow." Logan and Patton then started walking to their tents. "Well Emo nightmare, we should go to sleep then, God knows you won't get it though," Roman said standing. "Wait!" Virgil yelled, the other sides turning to see why he just screamed.

D2:

He didn’t want Patton or anyone else to get hurt, only Roman because Roman is a piece of shit.

“Don’t eat those.” Virgil tells Logan and Patton.

Patton looks gloomy, wanting a satisfying taste of s’mores.

Patton looks back at Virgil, upset. “Why can’t we? Roman is shoving those into his face right now.”

Virgil knows they won’t listen if he tells them what is really going on.

“I may have... uh...” Virgil can’t help but feel guilty, but his plan has already worked. Roman is shoving the s’mores into his face right now.

“I put laxatives into the s’mores...”

Guns and sushi

Warnings: Guns, food, Remus, knives, dead bodies, people tied up, blood, fist fighting, theft

D2:

Under normal circumstances, he would speak his mind, but with a gun against his head. “Buttt whyyyy???? I just want to play with some of the dead bodies out in the back!!!” Remus says with a bratty tone. He seems really upset, and Patton can’t help but feel disgusted. How the heck did he get here, with Janus and Remus?! He tries to get his way through the ropes but nothing works. This is Janus’ and Remus’ specialty. He may know Janus a little bit more now, but this is really the only way to get Remus to stop acting like a lunatic. Remus breaks open from his own handcuffs after being at gunpoint from yours truly, Janus. Janus puts the gun down and turns over to look at Patton, and Remus can’t help but giggle from the sidelines.

D1:

"What are we gonna do now?" Patton sighed. "I honestly don't have a clue." Janus looked at Remus for a second before looking back at Patton, "we could leave him here and just leave, get some food, oh maybe Chinese?" Patton thought about it for a second, "fine, but make it Sushi. It could care less for Chinese right now." Janus nodded and the two walked out the door of the grimy warehouse. Just before they both got in the car though, Patton tugged open a window. "Come one we can't leave him locked in there!" Janus sighed, "fine, but get in, I'm hungry."

D2:

Remus slips a certain something from under his shoe and in such a way Janus would never notice. It was a pocket knife. Janus and Remus walk away from the large cage, leaving Patton alone, in complete darkness and he could barely see anything. Guess they weren’t going to stay after all. Patton gets the knife in his hands tied around his back and starts cutting. They are very thick ropes, but at this point he just wants to get home and see everyone again. He manages to cut and he is released. Patton is happy that Remus left the cage door open, but what are really his intentions? Remus doesn’t do these types of favors without any motive behind it.

D1:

Remus invaded the kitchen like a warrior on a battlefield. He was here to make sure Patton got the noodles he wanted, and Remus might treat himself as well. The chefs and servers were all confused, telling him to leave and get out of the kitchen. Remus smiled, Patton was gonna get his noodles. It's safe to say no one left that kitchen without a bloody nose. Remus had really taken a beating to everyone there. Once everyone was out cold though, Remus snooped around the kitchen before seeing it. On top of the stove, was a large pot of noodles, exactly what Patton wanted. Grabbing the pot, and something else Remus ran back to the main restaurant, and to the side of a disappointed Remus and Patton. "So you robbed the place of there noodles and ice cream?" Janus asked. "Yup!" Remus exclaimed, licking a popsicle.

“Do you love me?”

Warnings: sexual intentions, kissing

D1:

The footsteps were moving away. Roman let out a heavy sigh. They couldn't be caught, not now. They had been doing this for weeks but still every sound made them pause, every foot step made them step away from each other, and every word that wasn't one of there’s ruined the mood. It was upsetting but the safest thing to do, if they were caught...it would never happen again. It was a strange idea, logic and creativity being together. Wanting each other. Not feeling complete without one another. But they did. So when the lights turned off, and the others went to sleep, Roman sneaked in,to Logan's room to feel complete. To have his other half. "We can't keep doing this," Logan said. Roman sighed, it was true. It was painful every time a kiss was broken by footsteps. "Than what do we do?" He asked. "Tell them," Logan said. "Lo, we can't, they won't" Logan brought up a hand to cup Roman's cheek.

D2:

“Ooh? Wow Logan I didn’t know you liked this type of thing.” Roman places his hands around Logan’s waist.

“Well, passionate kissing can burn between 2 and 26 calories a minute, and also can reduce stress. This can be extremely beneficial to both of our health.”

Roman looks at Logan almost like his face is trying to make a sigh but he can’t.

“Ugh please don’t start Logan.”

To get Logan to not talk anymore, he pushes him up against the wall, Roman presses his lips against Logan’s. Logan, wanting to talk more about health benefits finally decides to give in, letting the kisses get more passionate than before. Eventually, Roman decides to slip his hand between Logan’s thighs.

D1:

"Roman we can't-" "Logan you love me." Logan looked at Roman wide eyed. Logan wasn't good with emotions, but he knew love was strong. It wasn't a word you threw around, you had to be certain. And Logan didn't know how to Express what he had with Roman. It was strong, yet fragile. It made him feel confident. And he wanted more moments with Roman. Hell, he wanted every moment to be with Roman. Log a finally broke the silence, "do you love me?" Roman paused for the smallest of seconds, "yes." Logan pushed Roman away from him "Then tell them, about us. I can't handle keeping this a secret Roman, we need to tell them."

D2:

Roman looks down at the ground, trying to find an excuse but can’t manage to make one.

“Why do relationships need to be so hard???” Roman more upset than ever, holds Logan close.

“All we need to do is tell them. I mean think about it, we all know Patton and Virgil are a thing.” Logan says.

“Wait, what?! How couldn’t you tell me this info sooner?!”

Logan, realizing his clothes are a lot more of a mess than before.

“Roman, do you have some missing brain cells or are you just clueless?” Roman totally offended snaps back.

“I’m not oblivious! At least I’m not the one reciting lines from the last article you read about kissing! Don’t tell me that isn’t odd!”

Logan can’t help but feel embarrassed.

A soulmate AU?

Warnings: Food, condoms

D1:

He couldn't believe it. Was it really him? Roman stared across the small library at the man behind the counter. He was tall, with brown hair and glasses, along with wearing a tie and dress shirt. On his neck was a simple tattoo, taking the form of a dragon sitting atop a pile of books. The same tattoo that Roman had on his left hip. He couldn't believe, Roman was staring at his soulmate. All his life he had dreamed of meeting his soulmate. Someone who was perfect for him in every way, someone to love him every second. And now he was a few isles away from them. What was he supposed to do? Run up and randomly kiss them? No that would be weird.

D2:

Logan walked over to one of the bookshelves and grabbed a book. Roman couldn’t get the courage to do it. On his way to one of the tables to get a close look at Logan, he sees something under the table.

“What the...” Roman mumbles.

A lady behind him notices as well, and screeches.

“IS THAT A USED CONDOM?!” The lady runs away and Roman looks at it in horror. Logan turns over and walks over to Roman, startled when he looks under the table like everyone else in the room. People start discussing what to do with it while Roman and Logan stare intensely at the used condom.

“Disgusting... in a public library...” Logan says.

D1:

"That's… gross," Roman said, before his eyes trailed back to Logan. "Um, I actually came over here to ask you something." Logan looked at Roman curious, "and what would that be?" Roman took a second to try to form a response, just screaming out 'I'm your soulmate' would probably confuse him, and he honestly wanted this first meeting to go well. "Here, showing you would be better," with that Roman took his shirt off, turning so that Logan could see his left side. Logan, who at first was very confused, stared at the large dragon tattoo on Roman's side. Roman turned back around to look at Logan. "Seems we might be soulmates."

D2:

“Roman. Let’s go somewhere together.” Logan takes Romans’ hand and leaves the library. Roman can’t help but blush when Logan holds his hand like this. Then, Logan stops suddenly. They both look up to see the most beautiful thing in the world, the greatest ice cream shop that sells beans with ice cream and other things. Logan and Roman run towards the ice cream shop, skipping along the way there.

“Let’s get some ice cream with beans,” Logan says, “they help oxygen flow through your body.” Logan keeps pulling Roman towards the ice cream shop and they enter.

“You look like two happy donkays if I do say so myself,” the cashier says. “What would you donkays like to get today?”

“Oooh oooh can I get some BEANS?!” Roman yells.

“Sure thing donkay! All the donkays get bean ice cream today!”

The donkays scream yay at getting the taste of some nice bean ice cream.

Patton’s secret

Warnings: Alcohol, implied sexual content, swearing, Remus, first fighting, injuries

D2:

He sat him down and held him close before telling him the horrible news.

“Patton, I—“ Virgil is shushed.

“Shh, I’m enjoying this moment between us together.” Patton holds Virgil tighter.

“I feel like there is something I don’t know about...” Virgil stops looking at Patton, extremely angstily. “Patton, please tell me what is going on, I need to know.”

“I don’t know if I should tell you, it is really bad...” Patton whispers.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you in any way I can.” Virgil shows a smile, and the only smile he has given all night.

“I—“ Patton stops himself from speaking, he can’t bring himself to say it.

“Please, I love you so much Patton and I care about you.”

Patton sighs. “I’m pregnant.”

“W-what?! How the heck are you pregnant?” Virgil yells.

D1:

"Wha- what how the heck are you pregnant?" Virgil yells. Patton winced at the sound, no this isn't what he wanted he really didn't want Virgil angry. "I-I'm sorry Virge, I was drunk and not thinking, please I love you I promise!" Virgil was shocked how the fuck was he suppose to deal with this?! He was very aware Patton was trans, but they weren't at a comfortable point in their relationship to do anything. They had only been together for a month or two. "Pat, I-I…" Virgil didn't know what to say. Was he ready to be a father? We Patton ready to be a father? He could feel his breathing quicken, the world seemed to blur. "Virge? Virge, breathe for me please." "Y-you cheated on me and got pregnant?!"

D2:

“How could you just have a one night stand with some random person?! Do you even care?!” Virgil stands his ground, flaming with rage.

“I’m done and we are OVER. There is no excuse!” Virgil leaves the room to find a way to release the steam. Why did Patton do this to him? He runs outside and sits against the wall, and he can’t help but cry.

He hears footsteps expecting Patton, but it turns out to be a familiar face.

“Remus...”

Virgil gets up and backs slightly away.

“Hey there Vergy! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Must say that was quite a show in there.” Remus giggles at the drama and entertainment.

“You have something to do with this, don’t you Remus?” Virgil says.

D1:

"You have something to do with, don't you Remus." Virgil said. Remus looked offended "Virgil, drawing random conclusions-" "BULLSHIT!" Virgil yelled. "You can fucking stop the act, you fucked Patton, without protection and this kid is yours!" Remus smirked, sickly sweet, "you say it like he didn't consent." Virgil stared at him, pissed. "You fucking knew me and Patton were in a relationship you sick fuck!" With that the first punch was thrown. Remus looked startled, holding his now very bruised jaw. "It's not all my fucking fault!" Remus said hitting back.

The fight didn't last long, though it ended with both of them majorly bruised. Remus had left, bruised and hurt, leaving a very confused Virgil standing alone on the sidewalk.

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gothamslimpestwrist · 4 years

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s1e2 selina kyle

killcount:

“doug” the childsnatcher: “soldier” (homeless guy)

oswald cobblepot: douchebag college bro from the car, probably the other douchebag college bro as well.

jim gordon: quillan’s janitor

“patti” the childsnatcher: cat scratch fever dude w/ no eyes

episode total: 5 total count: 12

the dark knight rises: shit is clearly fucked in gotham. crime families are ruling the city, yes, but honestly that’s the least of it; look at the police force. we see that bo, the first responder, is late to the scene of the crime because he takes protection money from a local restaurant & gave them first priority (in other words, he’s a crooked bitch demanding a racket, AND it gets in the way of him actually doing his job). the cops are pretty much, explicitly, just an extension of the mob at this point.

interestingly, we also see the start of an exploration of the wayne’s corruption; falcone refers to “the wayne empire,” mirroring the way they talk about the crime families And Also setting the waynes up as, like, a picture of the wealthy elite taken to a whole ‘nother level. gotham is the last modern vestige of the city state--and that is the wayne empire. who takes the crown now that the emperor and empress are dead?

in OTHER news, the waynes really fucked bruce over. the murder itself was the lynching pin, causing him to jump over the fucking edge, so to speak, but he is Just A Little Boy! he is so troubled! he’s self harming and alfred yells at him and HITS HIM for being stupid, he’s listening to loud music and drawing fucked up shit, he’s both burned himself and is apparently cutting, and alfred, seeing all of this, refuses to get the boy who saw his parents shot a therapist, because the waynes told him to essentially let bruce raise himself. “the children are thoroughbreds,” basically.

quoth barbara (thinking about essen shushing the child snatcher case in fear of bad press): “i can’t believe the system is so corrupt.” quoth jim (thinking about how he was yelled at for not beating a perp, thinking about the cop/mob connection that demanded he kill a man to prove his loyalty, thinking...): “you have no idea.”

oh! and jim tells bruce the kids need more than money to keep them safe.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: she seems to be doing alright, but she’s troubled by jim’s troubles. also, this episode sets up some shit that will lead to irreparable damage later on; jim, even when he’s telling her things, isn’t telling her everything. she knows it. she hates it. he specifically hasn’t told her about oswald, which gives her reason to believe he’s a murderer pretty soon. plus, what she does w/ the information he does give her about his work (go straight to the press) gives him immediate reason to start trusting her less... and so they spiral.

sliding scale of ed nygma’s sanity: he’s a little bit more of a lurker this episode. creeps outside the captain’s office until someone notices him, lingers inside until everyone in the room makes it obvious he’s not welcome. he’s trying his best, but he’s not... very... “well liked,” shall we say.

continuity: montoya and allen are looking into the murder of oswald cobblepot. he was their snitch, after all. so that’s problems... many things are subtly set up in this episode: falcone and fish discuss maroni and his anticipated power play (adding another piece to the political chessboard of this season), the atp drug the child snatchers use is established to have been developed for arkham asylum, which is also established to have been closed for the past 15 years AND to have recently been in the works for a reopening, specifically by thomas and martha wayne. and that’s all just offhanded discussion. also related to the atp, when ed is listing the only three places that still stock it, it’s quillan pharma, drakatech (?)... and welzyn, which isn’t relevant at all to THIS episode (quillan’s the one dealing with the childsnatchers) but WILL become relevant to everyone in a few episodes, when welzyn manufactures viper. oh, and naturally the identity of the man the childsnatchers are working for: the dollmaker. hm!! on a lighter note, harvey’s ex-white knight tendencies that we explore in spirit of the goat are foreshadowed here; essen accuses him of leaking the child snatchers story to the press, w/ the reasoning that he’d done it before. after jim & barbara established that it was the right thing to do....

parallels: jim & selina meet in this episode. they are... The Same™. (look, i’ll come back to it later, but even tho my parallel in the pilot was btwn selina and oswald, and even tho they’re the two that are the villain counterparts to our heroes, jim and SELINA are the matched set.) also, this is the episode where fish expresses the wish that penguin wasn’t dead (because she wants him to suffer), but also she tells jim & harvey that she knew it was a mistake to order them killed as soon as she did it. so that means something?

neither here nor there, but gertrud tells montoya & allen how elegant and well dressed oswald is, and bruce comments on the orphans’ scruffy appearances and buys them new clothes... we love a dandy, i guess.

characterization: we meet some irrelevant street kids that selina knew; zeb, smoke, and mackey (corey in the house). i’m basically using the characterization tab as fanfic reference so i might as well record that.

lazlo, fish’s lover, is relevant, in that falcone beats him to get to her. it definitely does affect her, though she says she only keeps him around for exercise. maybe more b/c of falcone’s threat and the fear of what it implies, though.

and gertrud! ozzie’s mom. everyone connected to oswald, even outside (maybe even especially outside) of his mob connections, is a little twisted. she’s no different; she’s clearly a bit out of her head, she mistrusts the police (which i guess we’re supposed to think is suss, though really...Fair and Just), she’s got that almost creepy codependency with oswald while not really knowing what’s going on there. (other examples: elijah, oswald’s gothic horror father, martin, oswald’s lowkey homicidal son, edward, oswald’s fascist dog, jim, oswald’s corrupt boyfriend...) she also seems to think oswald has run off with some painted lady (actually, she says painted slut), which might be indicative of her experiences w/ van dahl and some unstable jealousy more than it is of oswald, who’s... you know.

in other news, jim is all over the map here. he stops harvey beating mackey (and later, quillan, after they’ve already gotten info out of him) and protests that they should leak the story to the press, but he also seems content to keep his mouth shut until barbara takes doing good upon herself. he adapts to the mob shit pretty quick, but expresses disgust w/ the corruption in the system. he gets off on the wrong foot w/ mayor james because he disagrees with locking up the kids w/o a trial, but he doesn’t... step in... either. we see this willingness to compromise and bend the knee that means he’ll never be the hero gotham deserves.

also, not to be a jim apologist on main or anything (ha, ha), but he’s just so... brainwashed. all this, & he still tells alfred that being a cop, which has thus far caused him nothing but pain & misery, is the “best job in the world.” because he thinks he’s helping people. (and he likes getting to feel like a hero... so where do the misguided good intentions stop and the selfish motives begin?) he also kills a man for the first time on screen this episode because for all its examinations of dirty cops... gotham is still, at the end of the day, Copaganda. in an actual moment of me drinking I Love Jim Gordon juice, jim is the one who advocates for bruce going to therapy, and tries to convince him to go personally, even when jim himself is too emotionally stunted for it to help him.

also, backstory: harvey pegs his love life, saying, “high school sweetheart, then a bunch of hoes (read: eduardo dorrance) overseas only made you sad... and then there’s barbara.” he also calls jim a monkey riding a race horse; jim’s face is really good @ that. i misinterpreted the line about high school sweethearts back in the day to mean that barb was jim’s highschool sweetheart. this is on account of auditory processing disorder and also general dumbassery. anyway, the point is that jim is a boring, predictable bitch! whom i love.

...in terms of characterization from the episode that i don’t agree with, i can’t really see oswald writing all the shit that they had on his conspiracy board, lmfao. “crybaby brucie,” “gordon=STOOGE,” & so forth. i pretend i do not see it.

#gotham #text post #meta #jim gordon #season one #selina kyle

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ourimpavidheroine · 4 years

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An Anniversary

Five years ago today, the 13th of February, 2015, I published, all in one shot, a piece of fanfiction called Please Excuse My Penmanship.

I hadn’t, at that point, written - never mind published - any fanfiction for over fifteen years. I had written some X-Files fanfic back in the day but I’d lost it; my backup floppies disappeared when I moved to Finland and, like just about everyone else back then, the places I had posted it to online disappeared without warning. (Toss a coin to your Archive, oh valley of plenty.) I’d been pretty torn up about losing my fic that way, which put me off writing. Time went on; I had twins in 2002 and they both turned out to have non-verbal autism and different flavors of ADD/ADHD and my life got very complicated and very difficult for a lot of years there. Writing for pleasure wasn’t even on the table.

By 2015 my life had settled a bit. My wife was disabled and suffering from severe and untreated depression and the kids were in special ed and a lot of therapies but we were managing. I had watched Avatar: The Last Airbender with my kids (on DVD - they were too young for it when it first aired) and had gone on to watch The Legend of Korra with them as well.

I really liked Mako as a character; he was too internal and complex for most of the kids watching, however, and wasn’t well liked. Most fans saw an inflexible jerk who caused and fucked up a love triangle; what I saw was an autistic man who was suffering from pretty severe PTSD. He grabbed my interest. I related.

I really liked his dynamic with Prince Wu, despite the fact that he was a really annoying character. Queer-coded as fuck, although the showrunners were plainly ignoring it. And I started to headcanon who they would be as a couple. How to make Wu less annoying while still making him canon Wu? How to humanize Mako while still acknowledging his autism and PTSD? Headcanon was all it was, though, a way for me keep myself occupied. I’ve been writing stories inside my head as long as I can remember. It’s what I’ve always done.

I read a post on here on Tumblr where the OP stated that there was no such thing as a good Letter Fic; I thought to myself, Bet I could do it. And so in the end of January 2015 I sat down at my PC and started to type up all of my headcanon.

I went back and forth with Wu. What I first started to write was too clumsy, by half; I tried to stick to his endless slang and it was as annoying as it had ever been on the show. I knew if I stuck to that shallow, silly, stupid, canon Wu he wouldn’t be interesting to read. I struggled with it for a time until I remembered something.

My maternal grandmother told me a story once about a girl from Mexico. Claudia was her name; she was a year older than my mother. Her own mother had died when she was born; her father, who was one of my grandfather’s business partners in Mexico, had left her in the care of her grandparents, who were extraordinarily wealthy denizens of Mexico City. At some point the adults involved thought that it would be a great idea to send this girl to stay with my mother’s family to learn English; in return, my mother would then go and stay a summer in Mexico City to learn Spanish. (Which she did; she’s fluent to this day.) Claudia had no English at all but my grandmother had working Spanish and I guess they all figured it would be enough for this poor girl?

The first day Claudia arrived in San Francisco my grandmother kindly showed her into the bathroom and told her to take a shower. My Grams realized about ten minutes or so later that the water hadn’t turned on; she went to check on her and there she was, sitting obediently on the toilet seat, fully dressed, waiting for the maid to come and undress her and turn the water on for her shower.

She had no idea how to do either of those things for herself. She had never, at the age of thirteen, undressed herself or operated a shower. And there it was, the opening of my story. Wu remembers arriving in Republic City on the run from the Red Lotus, checking into the hotel, and having no idea whatsoever what to do next. And I thought to myself...What if he isn’t actually stupid?

And there he was. My Wu. Just like that.

I wrote feverishly for a week, drawn into the story that was sitting in my head, waiting to be told. I didn’t have a Betareader; my wife liked my writing but rather tersely told me that TLOK wasn’t her fandom and she wasn’t interested in reading it, something that hurt me pretty deeply, especially since my X-Files fanfic was how we’d actually connected in the first place.

(She was, at that time, in the process of slowly dying of heart failure, but I didn’t know that then.)

I wasn’t going to publish it. I just wanted to write it, to see if I still had it together after a seventeen year hiatus. Wuko wasn’t at all a popular ship; after the show finale a couple of months prior all the fanfiction being feverishly written and published was Korrasami. (In fact, I checked AO3 at the time and found exactly two Wuko fanfics, both of which were one-shots and not to my particular taste.) I went back and forth with it and then thought, Fuck it. I’ll just do it. And maybe no one will read it but at least I’ll have done it. I read it through one more time and then, on the thirteenth of February, took a deep breath, told myself to stop being a coward, and posted the entire fic at once.

I got my first comment, and I was elated. And then I thought to myself, Well, fuck, you may as well write some of the other stuff in your head. You might learn something about yourself as a writer on the way.

Then, a few months later, on the seventeenth of June, my world fell apart. My wife, staying at our summer cottage with our twelve year old twins, died of a heart attack while the kids were off playing and I was here at home, getting ready to travel down the next day on the train to meet them all for the summer. My daughter was the one to find her; she was long past saving at that point. Family friends brought the children, our pets, and our car the two hours back home as I collapsed on the floor of our flat and rocked myself back and forth, wordlessly keening, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

The next year was unspeakable. I was a widow at forty-six; I was living in a foreign country with two disabled children, with no family or friends nearby and an imprecise grasp of the language. My wife had told me she had life insurance; she lied. I was flat broke. My grief was deep and whole and devastating; my children were traumatized and barely functioning. I had no one to help me, and I’d cook meals at midnight so my sleeping children wouldn’t hear me sobbing in the kitchen.

And I wrote.

I wrote out of desperation; I had to do something to keep me tethered to this world. I wrote of love and families, of a traumatized child from the street that was my daughter’s age, full of bravado and choked fury. I wrote of an autistic boy growing into a man, bullied and shunned, aching to be free, much like my own.

I took my children to more therapists. I took myself to a therapist that turned out to be homophobic; I found another one. I made dinners; I cleaned the house, I walked in circles around my living room, whispering over and over to myself, You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay, before making another phone call.

And I wrote.

In August of 2018 my daughter attempted suicide and was hospitalized. I was trying to write I Do Not Ask The Night For Explanations and I had to stop. I had severe panic attacks whenever I tried to work on it. I brought her home and I cut my work hours down to four hours a week so that I could be with her at all times; she wasn’t safe to be left alone. I cared for her. I cared for her twin, who was terrified, unable to sleep, afraid that if he wasn’t watching her she’d try it again. I fought until I got them different therapists. I stopped sleeping. My health suffered.

And I wrote. When I could. It was, without any doubt at all, the only thing that was keeping me going during that time. I would tell myself that I had to keep going, that I still had so much of this story in my head, I needed to get it out. Sometimes I would write while sobbing. Sometimes I would sit here at my desk and nothing would come. I just kept going, though.

It’s better now. She missed most of last year of school and is making it up this year and doing so well. Her brother is at a new school and has, for the first time in his life, made friends. I was able, in December, to actually leave them for three days; the first time I had been away from them since we lost their mother.

They’ll be eighteen this summer and we’re finally able to breathe. We’re moving forward, the three of us. We’re still broken, but we’re making something new out of the pieces instead of trying to put them back together.

My writing is what saved me. It wasn’t about how many hits/comments/kudos I got; I appreciate every single one I get, believe me. But the writing was making me hold myself accountable, making myself get out of bed, get dressed, brush my hair and teeth, sit down and try. Sometimes that was all I could manage; the writing just wasn’t happening. But it gave me a goal when I needed one. And boy, did I need one.

Thank you all for reading. For those of you that have been there since the beginning and those who just started reading now. For those who faded away from the fandom over time or who left because they didn’t like how the story was going; I wish you well and thanks for reading when you did. Thank you for the hits and the kudos and the comments. You may not have known you were helping to save me, but you were. So thank you.

I am not done writing yet. I am not oblivious; I know I am so far in AU territory now that you’re for all intents and purposes reading original fic. That’s okay. It’s the story that was in my head, that is still in my head. Maybe someday I’ll try to publish it and maybe I won’t, and I’m fine with that. I’m not ready at this point to do what’s necessary to take it past fanfic and that’s okay. It has served and is continuing to serve its purpose for me; if you all enjoy it then that’s just biscuits and gravy, as my Great-Aunt Margie used to say.

I wrote us all a little anniversary ficlet; this takes it full circle for me. (And then back I go to Wu and Qi’s wedding!)

Mind the warnings at the bottom if you think you need them.

Chapter 132: 252: Wu

#My fanfiction #five year anniversary #long post #cw:death #cw:suicide #cw:trauma

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caatws · 4 years

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quarantine tag game

i was tagged by @salty-af-ace <3

1. Are you staying home from work/school?

yep, both my internship and classes are online/remote now. zoom university class of 2020 what’s good

2. If you’re staying at home, who’s there with you?

i’m quarantined with my roommates, who happen to be some of my closest friends. while i am grateful for that, i do miss my family and wish i could see them, esp bc i wasn’t planning to move home post grad so irdk when i can see them next.

3. Do you have pets to keep you company?

no unfortunately :/ i wish i could be with queso the cat but he’s at home with my immediate family

4. What do you miss the most?

a lot of things....but definitely the end of my senior year of college. i was supposed to be doing a lot of graduation-type events on campus this month, leading up to the big day next month, but now we have none of that. similarly, i miss my friends, bc many of them returned home quickly during or after our spring break so my goodbyes were either very rushed or nonexistent :/

5. When was the last time you left your home?

i haven’t like Gone Out To A Place since the day before easter (got takeout food), but in terms of physically leaving my apartment i went to my car to do my therapy appointment via zoom back on friday

6. What was the last thing you brought?

i bought one of the new cropped sweatshirts from the black widow movie merch line at hot topic! it just dropped last week and my life has nothing else these days okay 🙄 also i had enough gift cards to pay for the whole thing heheh

7. Is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed?

i am far from relaxed my friend my mind and body are dying

8. Are you a homebody?

i actually grew up in a pretty homebody-type family, so i am to an extent; at the same time, because i’m normally living life going to college in a major city with a good amount of friends, i typically go out way more while i’m at school rather than stay in, so this sucks!

9. What are movies you have watched recently?

one of my roommates wanted to do an mcu movie marathon but she’s moving out in like 2 weeks so we’re doing an expedited version (designed by yours truly). this weekend we watched im1, thor, catfa, and avengers 2012. we’re watching catws tonight and i’m fuckin Stoked

other than that, i’ve been catching up on some 2019 films - midsommar, little women, and parasite!

10. An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

there’s....a Lot. probably the biggest and most obvious would be my literal college graduation, and next would be all the other events we had planned for this month preceding that to celebrate seniors at my school in their respective communities. so it’s just an all-around Bummer

11. What’s the worst thing you’ve had to cancel?

one of my close friends from high school was supposed to fly down to visit me for a few days and we were gonna go to disneyland - but then disney closed down just days before she was supposed to come, and the virus was spreading so fast, we just canceled the whole trip altogether :(

12. What’s the best thing you’ve had to cancel?

hm i guess the “best thing” was that, because they canceled the rest of the semester at the end of our spring break, they canceled that following week of class? so we had a nice week-long break to sit at home and do nothing

13. Do you have any new hobbies?

i’ve been doing a lot of puzzles with my roommates. i also got them obsessed with mahjong for like a week. other than that i just play a lot of animal crossing

14. What are you out of?

we are not out of it but we are gonna need a lot more alcohol soon bc i am Tired!

15. What music are you listening too?

been listening to a lot of t swift - specifically lover and a couple other songs - which ik makes me a basic white girl but her lyrics just be speaking to me these days 😔

16. What shows are you watching?

mainly odaat and b99 since new eps are still coming out weekly. other than that i’ve just been rewatching a couple old shows like hannah montana and other disney channel classics. i also have seen parts of love is blind, the circle, tiger king, and zoey’s extraordinary playlist while my roommates were watching LMAO

17. What are you reading?

i recently read a wlw ya novel that i actually bought at a book store (very strange bc i haven’t bought a book for pleasure reading in Years LMAO) - the summer of jordi perez. other than that i’ve just been reading (and writing) fanfic aha

18. What are you doing for self care?

reading/writing fic, consuming an unhealthy amount of dark chocolate on a regular basis, and playing animal crossing

19. Are you exercising?

literally not at all! :^) a bitch is tired 24/7

20. How’s your toilet paper supply?

it could be better for an apartment of 5 ppl. but we’ll survive for now...

21. Have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine?

no but i wish i had the resources to semi-properly cut my hair cuz i wanted to get it cut short during this month and now i can’t :(

tagging: @novasforce, @justanalto, @barillapasta, @briel-arson, & anyone else who wants to do this! also feel free to skip this if i tagged you and you’re like nah LMAO

#tagged #about me #long post #not me doing a tag meme while i'm in my night class #madison.txt

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chaniters · 5 years

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Fallen Hero AU Fanfic 6. Ranger Adventures

Part 6

Beginning to steer this to it’s conclusion. Spoilers for Fallen Hero Series as always.

Some thoughts on how MC would be treated by the world if they were not forced to hide their secrets. How far would Ortega fight for them? Herald and Sidestep centered plot. Also, explores some of the (original?) villains I came up with for this. I’m trying to get better at writing villains right now.

Hope you like It !

And thanks to Malin!

Inhuman

Ranger HQ. Evening.

"Any changes?" Steel asked Moira, one of the professionals on their strike force. She was a military doctor.

The Dark Energy Man lied motionless on his bed. He had just barely eaten some food.

"We have biometric Id. Jake Black. His wife got died to overdose so no surprise he hates the cartel. But changes ? No. He's got brief periods of activity where he gets really excited, and then falls unresponsive. I think he's hallucinating too, we've seen him talk to himself."

"Hmr.. and we can't get Sidestep to check trough an energy absorber..."

"Not unless he wants to run the risk of getting his brain fried" She smiled

"I'll keep it as a last resort" Steel said, impossible to tell if he was serious.

"What's your assessment?."

"He only took the Hero drugs what four days ago? His body must be still adjusting. Changing"

"Very well.. keep me informed. I'll go meet the others..."

Steel strolled to an elevator to the ready room. He adjusted his shirt and pants examining himself in the mirror. It was kind of a routine. Their headquarter had many floors now. Ever since Sidestep had the old one destroyed by HG that is. That's how Steel lost almost all the clothing that used to fit him. Stupid Sidestep. He had to buy new sets of everything and it wasn't easy for someone with so many mods.

"... and that's how they'r creating the Demons" Herald finished explaining. Steel already knew that part.

"So what happened to Cyrus? He didn't seem alright"

"I'm not sure.. I thought I'd lost him. He was't listening to me at all, he was just petrified... and then he went back to normal... sort of."

"He's got a history with mad scientists experimenting on people" Argent pointed out.

"He told me he just needed some time." Ortega spoke a bit worried "He's not sure why, but he admitted he was a bit spooked. I'd be more worried if he had denied the whole thing, which is what he usually did in the past. I.. I think he needs a bit of alone time. Then i'll go talk to him."

"True. Very well... what's your take, Anderson?"

"We have enough to go on against Ellison now. The pictures you got really tell the whole tale Herald. They'r developing a hero drug, it got stolen, sold on the streets, and then they killed the thief to cover it up. Oh and let’s not forget they are turning people into demons. I think that qualifies as an exception to the west-coast protection he has."

Steel nodded. Time for action then.

"Ortega. You and me go to the Last Gate church along with our strike team... we have to put an end to the experiments"

"Argent... Ellison's car was seen entering FarmaCore's main building's garage so..."

"I get to kick his ass"

Steel smiled "Yes. You and Anderson head to FarmaCore and arrest that twisted shit before he can do anything else."

"What about me?" Herald asked

"You get to stay at the base this time."

"What? Why?"

"Because, we have an immensely powerful boost in our cell, and if contention fails, I don't want Sidestep to be alone to stop him"

"He's not coming either?"

"Not this time... for the same reasons as you. Also, I don't like taking chances if he's not at his best. You tell him. We'll get ready".

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

Sidestep's room.

Cyrus lied back on his bean bag, completely covered by a blanket on top of it. Hidden from the world.

He didn't know what got to him. The voice had been silent. He had made an *almost* full recovery. He had taken his medication on the hour every hour every day. He hadn't missed a single therapy appointment. He had a fucking psych report saying he was ALMOST normal.

And he just walked into that fucking basement and it triggered next level hallucinations, a panic attack and a complete recalling of the Heartbreak and his first attempt on his life. He had been close. He had tried a few times later after that...

The last one was when he had almost made Herald drop him. The teleporting ray had also been one, he didn't like to admit it but he had hoped it would fail, and that he would just disappear.

But he didn't feel suicidal. Not anymore.

He was starting to like this life he had bargained for.

Even if he wasn't human.

Even if he didn't really had rights.

How.. how had he relapsed so strongly?

He felt he was failing... failing at getting better.

He didn't want to fall into that hole again. He didn't know if he could crawl his way out again.

"I have to get better" he said aloud. He owed it to Ortega.

After He had pushed Ortega into signing that deal for him...

He owed him for his new life.

Just like he owed him for teaching him about all the things that made him a real person after he broke out.

He owed him so damn much, and he was going to disappoint him. Again.

He remembered what Steel said.

Don't fuck it up.

Well he was going ahead and doing just that just to keep things interesting.

He closed his eyes and covered his face, trying to escape his own thoughts.

On his bean-bag, under his blanket. -----------------------------------------------------

6 months ago.

"Say again?"

"I want to take the deal"

"You can't be serious!"

"I am serious."

"But this is just... insulting! It's like... like a license to own a dog! No Cyrus! I can't let you...I'm not going to ..."

"Ricardo..."

"No. Definitely not. I won't..."

"...Ricardo"

"Out of the question!"

"Ricardo please. Can you not fight me on this?"

Silence.

The governor took the chance to speak

"Look, I can't legally make you a human. But nothing stops me from doing THIS under the economic free zone regulations. It's a middle ground"

"If he takes this, people will think this is how it's supposed to end... there is momentum in the media! If we keep at it we can..."

"I can't."

"But this is your fight!"

"I know.. but... i just... can't do it anymore.. please"

Ortega just stood silent. He couldn't give up. He couldn't let Cyrus give up. They had fought so hard... there were online petitions .. people mobilizing to protest in the streets...

Then he looked at Cyrus. He was pleading with him. With testimony to congress, along with reporters all day long and the hate groups that had emerged against the re-gene cause, the last month had certainly been hell. Panic attacks. Nightmares. His psych test had been a total mess. He was furious at having to use the wheelchair after HG shot him. The physical pain of rehab itself... Trying to walk again....

He couldn't ignore it... he was falling apart with each day. If they continued... he would pay the price.

He took a deep breath and tried to swallow every emotion and intuition telling him this was the wrong choice.

He looked at Cyrus straight in the eyes and asked.

"Look... if we do this, there's no turning back. So I need you to to tell me. Are you completely sure? Is this what you really want?"

Cyrus took a few moments to answer. "Y...Yes. Yes, I want to have a life now, not in 10 years.

Ortega rubbed his face as he tried to cool down.

"Shit...” This was hard...

“Ok then." I'll sign. I'll sign the thing.. whatever you have to throw at us, i'll sign it. Just... " he pointed a finger at the governor "Just don't cheat us. Please, just don't cheat us later" he pleaded. He felt defeated.

"It's in everybody's best interests. I do stand for the Re-gene cause, but there's only so much I can do without a congress law" He slided the papers to them. "Maybe congress will solve this in the near future, and this doesn't mean others won't continue the fight he started"

Only Ortega signed. Cyrus's signature wasn't valid, since only humans could sign legally binding documents.

"So" he forced himself to ask, as he signed, paper after paper. "How will this... how's this going to work?" He spoke in the most neutral tone he could manage, when in truth he wanted to break the table with his modded fist.

"You'll be assigned guardianship. You are entitled to acquire the equivalent of monthly payment of that of a ranger as long as Cyrus works as a "Honorary" member. You can administer it as you see fit to cover his expenses. Also you can ..." And they went on, and on, explaining how Cyrus's legal non-humanhood, whatever it was, would work.

Other re-genes where being offered similar deals. Not as good as this one tough, they couldn't even choose guardians they trusted.

"Non human person". A new legal status, only valid in the west coast.

If Cyrus agreed to this, most of the others would too, that was a given. And they would probably forfeit the right to be truly heard by the public... they would become yesterday's news. The legal case would be off the front page.

The Governor nodded as he signed the papers as well.

"Very well then... it's done."

....

"I know you think i'm giving up" Cyrus spoke as Ortega pushed the wheelchair through the underground tunnel to avoid the media.

"I understand why... But it feels so wrong."

"I know but... yesterday I was just a piece of property owned by the state Ricardo."

"And what are you now?"

"A protected piece of property"

"That's still not a human"

"We've talked to the lawyers... It's better than spending 10 more years in limbo. I don't think i can do that Ricardo. This way I can join the rangers... I can be someone useful..."

"Even if you'r protected, it's not..." Ortega began

"Protected by you." Cyrus interrupted "And that's enough for me"

Ortega hadn't known what to answer to that. He still didn’t. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The present.

As the ranger vehicles left the headquarters, a man in a nearby bar dialed a number

"It's time"

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

Herald was at the situation room.

Steel and Ortega had found and defeated a few demons in the church's grounds after a small skirmish. After that, the church had surrendered and the leaders where being arrested. Several people being held in cells were released too.

Argent and Anderson had faced resistance from FamaCore's security. They were looking for Ellison inside the premises.

Patrol cars were at his homes, and several other locations... still no sign of him.

He was about to call Steel again for an update, when an explosion shook the building. He braced himself. All the lights turned red, then the security cameras died. All of them. Then the alarm sounded.

Gunfire and screams. Herald ran to help,.

A group of veteran strike team members where fighting the creatures already emerging from the elevator shaft. Demons.

One of them was already lying on the floor, bleeding from several energy weapon wounds.

He activated his wrist energy emitter and took cover, firing at the things as well. Another one fell down the shaft. Two more came from the stairs. He activated a panel on the wall, sealing the entrance with a thick metal bars coming off the ceiling.

“Quick! To the emergency staircase!" They did as he said. He flew trough the corridors towards the armory. He was going to need heavy weapons to face these things.

He couldn't prepare for the figure materializing in front of him.

"Going somewhere?" The fist connected straight to his gut, and given his current speed, it made him bend over in the air.

Herald managed to roll away. Durability was a good power to have sometimes.

He looked up at the grinning figure.

A dark ninja-style suit. A mercenary villain called Darkfist. Ortega, and Argent had been beaten by this one in single combat before. Shit.

"What's the matter? Giving up already?"

Herald remembered. Darkfist's powers was very specific. when he attacked, he could teleport short distance, with energy infused fists. So anyone fighting the Villain usually got pummeled before he could do respond.

"Just warming up" he stood up. He had to distract Darkfist so the personnel would be safe.

He aimed his wrist emitter and took his shot... Darkfist teleported in a puff of black smoke... he braced for the worst.

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

The building shook. An explosions. Alarm sounds. Sidestep removed his blanket. All lights were red.

Fuck.

He rushed out of his room. He had to get to the stairs to get to the ready room... Only there was a demon in the stairs. He froze. He could feel the minds.. many demons.

There was an emergency stair hidden behind a panel in the living-room. He could get up trough it and...

"Hello Cyrus. I hear that is the name you took now?"

He paused. He hadn't sensed this mind. An old, thin and tall man, with grey hear and a black diamond mask, with brass engraved cane. He wore a dark suit, black gloves and a black sweater. Not the most creative Villain suit. Standing in his way.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"You can call me Phatos."

"I can call you whatever I want after i beat you down!" No time for this. Sidestep lunged for a quick takedown.

The old man just moved out of the way and he missed by a longshot.

"Oh.. you've goten slower" He pushed Sidestep with the tip of his cane, and he almost lost balance

"What the...?" He attacked again, but this time, his enemy wasn't even there. He hit a wall, and cursed at his pained fingers.

"Tsk Tsk... What a disappointment. And you had made such a name for yourself. Sidestep and all."

"Who the fuck are you?" Sidestep knew the voice... but he couldn't place it. And he could not sense his mind at all.

"Oh come now. Don't you remember me ?" He lips turned into a smile under his mask.

Sidestep focused. There it was. He could sense it. It was hiding... but no longer. He could sense it's shields. Strong shields. Very like his own.... familiar shields...

He took a step back.

He knew this man... he had trained with him. Him and his brothers. He had been at the farm.. he had taught them... everything.

"Carl?" Sidestep asked finally

"It's Pathos now... But i'm glad to see you brain hasn't melted... yet" He took a step forward.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Sidestep said assuming a defensive stance

"What does it look i'm doing?" He clicked a button on his cane and a short blade emerged from the tip.

He trusted the cane and Sidestep dodged... but the blade wasn't where it was supposed to be. He got a nasty cut on his arm.

Pathos sneered. "You know ever since i retired, I've found there's a really enormous demand for people like me. I do charge a lot for my services, but i'm doing you for free"

Pathos slashed again, but Sidestep trapped the blade with his bare hands.

"Oh. I see you haven't gone totally soft"

Sidestep took the cane off his hands and pointed it at him.

"Why? What could you possibly gain from this?"

"You really don't remember?"

Sidestep felt the immediate pressure against his shields. He strengthened them as hard as he could... but his mind just went trough as if they weren't there...

"Wha..."

"It's no use being in the strongest of Alpha leagues if your opponent, even a Beta like me has the key to your front door Fivofour."

"I'm Cyrus!" He strengthened his shields again and pushed him back. He trusted the cane at Pathos... but it became a snake in his hands, hissing and biting at him. He dropped it. "How the fuck.."

"Experience makes the master. Remember I taught you everything you know. And you have let yourself develop a huge weakness... let it fester even" Pathos smiled. "It's a secret we share, do you remember Doll? Do you remember how I fixed you after they brought to me in pieces?" For the Briefest instant, his face turned into that of the monster... the origin of the voice... the Heartbreak.

Sidestep recoiled... but his back hit the wall.

"Do you remember when I came to help you because you wanted to kill yourself ? When you made me your tool, and tried to have me strangle you? This obsession you gave me.. it never went away." Phatos continued, clearly enjoying Sidestep’s pained expression.

The old man raised his cane and attacked again. Sidestep dodged and blocked trying to disarm him once more, but he just couldn't outsmart his old mentor. Every move, he did, Pathos could predict. He gave him another cut on the left leg this time.

"When you escaped I realized i had lost my chance... only killing others gave me some respite...But we both know how these induced obsessions work right?.. If i finally kill you.. Then maybe if I'll be free, don’t you agree?."

They engaged once more. Sidestep was stronger... faster.. but there was little he could do against someone who could dodge faster than he could think.

With a final deception, Pathos knocked him down, driving his head against a wall. ......................................

Three strikes in quick succession. Each time, Darkfist had teleported in the middle of his swing. There wasn't any time to react... Herald was just getting beaten over and over against this guy.

His back was against a window when... A window.

He shot his wrist weapon shattering the glass.

Darkfist ran at him, ready to strike again.

Herald waited.. he waited...until...

Now!

The moment Darkfist's body started blurring and preparing his teleportation, he jumped backwards.

As predicted, he got another brutal fist to the face.... but after that he flew upwards.

Darkfist didn't fly at all. His powers where teleporting to attack. There was no reports of him ever teleporting without performing his "Dark Punch". So he had no way to avoid the fall.

The 7th floor was probably high enough.

“Splat” Herald said.

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

Ellison entered some commands in the console, and the power dampener device deactivated, opening the containment cell.

Pathos entered the room followed by a Demon carrying the unconscious Sidestep.

The Dark Energy man stood up, with a smile on his lips.

"Ahh.. High priest. It’s good to see you again. It’s been so many years"

Ellison bowed to the man.

"I am sorry. We didn't expect your return to take place in this unclean vessel... one of our workers was... unfaithful. He has been dealt with."

The Dark Energy man simply walked out of the cell.

"It is of no consequence. I have almost consumed this man's personality. I am in control. His quests for vengeance was pointless.. but entertaining" The inhuman thing behind his eyes smiled. "Your technology and the teachings of the Elder one have created the right tool to tear the veil between our realms. I am pleased."

"You honor us. If you would follow us, we will guide you to our preparations, oh great one"

They began walking towards the exit, as countless demons cleared the path outside.

Ellison whispered to Phatos. "Where is Darkfist?"

"The flyboy killed him. Can't say I saw that coming."

The Dark Energy Man stopped and turned to the Demon holding Sidestep.

"An offering? The one that killed my last vessel too. Most appropriate high priest." He nodded to Ellison "The elder one will devour his power immediately after his coming." Pathos smiled as well.

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

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #fanfiction #alternate universe #chargestep #Fallen hero

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aikainkauna · 6 years

Text

Fic mehm

This was shortish, so might as well post it here. Snurched from the lovely @trelobita .

-What is your total word count on AO3?

-1 421 808. That little?!? I thought I would've gone past the 2 million mark a long time ago. What with Connie whipping me on the way he does.

-How often do you write?

-When the right mood/inspiration comes, and when I'm healthy enough (both mentally and physically) to be in writing condition. Which is not often enough; I hate it when I do want to write, but brain fog and/or physical fatigue mean I can't keep my brain going or my body upright. That's mostly for fiction, though. I can type bloggity waffle like this, and could just about proofread a sex toy review today despite it being a brainfog/tireded day. The deadline for the review was today, so I did it under duress and must've left something out or fucked up some grammar as consequence. Finnish conjugations are hell when your memory is shot to pieces; English is much easier to write because you don't have to remember how to conjugate a word to denote it's in the past tense for a plural with a conditional towards place A, signifying inclusion. No, I'm not joking. Sauvallanikinkos? ("Also with my wand, too, maybe?")

-Do you have a routine for writing?

-My body isn't good with routines and schedules, so no. The only pattern I have is to try and get 1000 words done at least and then to email myself the latest draft after I've finished writing.

-What are your favourite tropes?

-Have you got a month? (This question foolishly asked about your favourite kinks and tropes and pairing types all in the same question, BTW, so I split it up into three questions, because... c'mon.)

Tropes:

-Flawed characters who are still somehow understandable and appealing; not the typical Asshole Protagonist or antihero thing so much but more of an... well, I guess it's just good characterisation I prefer, in the end. Not that kind of squickily obvious macho power fantasy sold as "grittiness" just for the sake of being an asshole (funnily enough, that kind of crap usually comes from the kinds of people who have too much privilege in the first place). So, yeah, good characterisation that's still got some shreds of humanity left is my jam.

-Telepathic lovers. Exactly because it hurts so much when the person who's supposed to love you the most and to understand you the best doesn't, and vice versa. So that's a big RL trauma and squick I prefer to fix, because in fic, I CAN.

-That's a major one, actually. Fix-its not so much on a plot level but on a human level. Especially sexism/gender bullshit-breaking fixes. Fix-its get a bad rap, but that kind of thing, just like the bashing of romance and fanfic, sets off my "ah, this wouldn't be the devaluing of something considered empathic and female/feminine again, now would it?" alarms.

-This overlaps with the pairing thingy, but the Depraved Bisexual is my favourite character type to write. All the Connies, Tennant!Peter Vincent, Captain Renault, Zainab, Laura, etc... YES.

-Male character gives up some masculine privilege he doesn't fancy anyway for the sake of love and empathy/female character gives up stereotypical female things she doesn't fancy anyway in order to be herself and free herself as much as she can from society's chains. Give Torsten all the pwetty dwezzez he wants and for Falcon!Yassamin to remain childfree, dammit!

-Man cuddles and medicates woman during her period and actually empathises/feels how awful it is. As I was saying about the fix-its...

-Funny banter, even if I can't write it as hilariously as I'd want to.

Favourite kinks?

-Poetic prose and Romanticism. It's word porn or nothing, baby.

-Historical detail, accuracy preferred but depends on how the story wants to go (the Barmakids DON'T get butchered horribly by Harun al-Rashid in 803, TYVM).

-Anal! That's almost too obvious to mention.

-Androgynous, genderbending, sex-bending, femme men. Why do you think Connie is the love of my life?

-Lots of arousal-drippage.

-Some way for the bottom to see themselves being banged. Mirrors or telepathy or magic or video camera projecting it before their eyes or whatever. Unfff.

-Orgasms. Always orgasms to complete satisfaction. Orgasm denying or writing it badly or so vaguely that characters/readers can't get any catharsis/release for the arousal is a huge squick. That's a hard limit. Fuck characters who tease and don't let someone get off.

-Psychological/emotional depth. That's such a no-brainer it shouldn't even be necessary to mention (although in these days, it seems to be, because apparently wanting that is now a repressed sexual minority instead of normal human, especially female, sexuality. Oh, fuck off). Yeah, these memes do bring out the pet peeves about internalised misogyny, don't they? Especially the sort that manifests itself in sputter-inducing ignorance. Even my medieval characters and their somewhat dated and essentialist ideas of sex and gender are ahead of Tumblr in the very basics, FFS.

-BDSM that's based very much on extreme care and healing, the sort that uses the intense sexual activities/sensory overload as a kind of way to heal the sub's anxieties and to help the sub let go, achieve catharsis and release. And for the top's love to be the guiding, ravishing, then healing and comforting force that contains the sub and the sub's anxieties in a fiercely loving and protective way and absolutely, so that not a drop spills over. So, yep, BDSM as therapy is my kink in both RL and in fic. Not so much a desire to humiliate or to be humiliated, but on the contrary, to value and to honour the other half. The top finds strength and validation through being the healer, through their power being able to do something good (instead of tearing someone down and having power over them through that). Yes, I know that's not everyone's idea of BDSM, but it's mine and that's what you'll get if it's a healthy relationship I'm trying to portray. (The Barrings and Zainab and Fadl don't have the healthiest ideas of sex, anyhow; Jaffar/Pwinzezz usually do.)

And I'm leaving out so many. You only have to look at my Ao3 pages to see the recurring themes:p

Favourite pairing types?

-Experienced Depraved Bisexual Character/Less Experienced and/or Repressed Character, GIMMIE. Fucking love that shit.

-Similar: Older, More Experienced Man/Younger, Horny Woman.

-Horny couple, usually M/F, seduce someone into a threesome. The Rosesverse and Devilry are full of this, so might as well admit it.

-Do you have a favourite fic of yours?

-I do have a soft spot for the first two fics in the Falconverse. As if you didn't all know that already! They do have some noticeable flaws here and there, especially the first one (I still insist that weird lube choice was HIS and not mine; I do know better and yelled at him at the time), but they still contain my deepest and most profound writing both erotically (and I mean that in the widest sense of the word, encompassing all things Love) and spiritually and character-wise. Defy Not The Stars also turned out better than I expected, considering I had never attempted so much plot and a traditional historical romance novel before. But I guess that Roses, what with its length, has allowed me to explore more aspects of the characters and their lives than anything else I've written. And of course, considering Devilry is my most-read saga ever, I do have a soft spot for that pile-up of a car crash. If only for the sheer intensity of the ride; I was just thinking yesterday how it really was aghori sadhana done through writing. Meditating in a graveyard is for wimps; try spending months in Torsten Barring's fragrant boypussy.

-Your fic with the most kudos?

To no one's surprise, Because The World Belongs To The Devil, at 234 kudos.

-Anything you don’t like about your writing?

-I suck at pacing sometimes. The sex scenes tend to run overlong if I write them in several sessions instead of just one go. It's not that the characters want to try different sex acts and shag more than once during a night, but more that the tension is spread out unevenly ("JFC, why did they change position again? I want them to just fucking come already, damnit!") This is obviously a result of how many things *I* see in my mind's eye during a wank; it's always more of a clipshow of different sex acts and pairings and orientations than one straightforward scenario. I'll be more mindful of that in the future and have been watching out for it in the past few fics already; I don't think the shags in The Guardians of Samarkand overran, for example.

-And sometimes my kinks get too obvious and repetitive for me, too, the way any porn gets tedious and repetitive. But on the other hand, I know very well that fanfic *is* about us imposing our kinks on our darlings, no matter how much we may go on about our dedication to characterisation and such. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: what's key is to get away with your kinks *but* in such a way that they can also engage the reader and that they become interesting and enjoyable not just for you, but for the readers, too. And you need good characterisation for that, and it's a really delicate balance to juggle your kinks and believable characterisation.

-Something you *do* like about your writing?

-I can write immersively and deeply and engage all the senses (sight, touch, scent...) in rich detail, as well as go deeply and profoundly into the emotions. And write some fucking hot porn ;) Those are the things I've had praise for, at least. Maybe my spiritual bits aren't as relatable or something, because people hardly ever remark on those (interestingly, my mum is the only one to have taken up those bits! But I skim over the sex scenes when I read the fics to her, so she only gets the gen). Or then it's the fact that most of the time it's Thief of Bagdad fic, and thus in an Islamic context, and most readers aren't familiar enough with, say, Sufism, to feel like they're qualified to comment without making arses out of themselves. But of course I like my spiritual bits; I'm an ex-religions major!

This had a taggity thing at the end, but I hate doing those because it always puts pressure on them even if you say they don't have to (come, now. The pressure is there, the moment you mention someone by name). I don't own the meme or you, so, as always: do what thou wilt.

#writing #meme #meta #personal #i guess #ao3 #fic

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lolablackwrites · 6 years

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Writer’s Retreat (AU), Part 6 - James x MC x Zig

Summary: The day after James calls MC (Charlotte) during his bachelor party, she has a chance encounter with Zig in the woods.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and supportive of this series so far, you are all wonderful and I appreciate you so much ❤️ If you’re new to this series, you can check out the previous installments here: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

Fanfic Master List

Charlotte was nearly asleep when she heard her phone ring. She considered ignoring it, but the jingling notes were far too irritating so she groped blindly for her phone on the nightstand. Charlotte squinted, wondering if it was Kaitlyn. Instead, James’s name was on the screen.

“Hello?” Charlotte asked groggily.

“Hey,” James’s familiar voice filled her ear, although something wasn’t right. His words weren’t as crisp as they normally were, they were blurrier.

“James?” Charlotte asked. “Is everything okay? What time is it?”

“Um . . .” She could practically hear him checking his watch. “Almost 1AM.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at a party,” he said. “My party.”

Due to her exhaustion, it took her a moment before Charlotte connected the dots. The wedding was a week away--he had to be at his bachelor party.

“Why’d you call me?” she asked, too tired to beat around the bush. “Shouldn’t you be shoving dollar bills in someone’s G-string?”

“No!” he exclaimed louder than usual. “We’re not at a strip club, we’re just at a bar. A regular bar.”

“James--”

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

Charlotte sighed. She hated dealing with drunk people. Before Kaitlyn had decided to quit drinking, Charlotte had scraped her off the floors of so many bars she’d lost count. Then there was the stumbling, the vomiting, the hair holding; it was like babysitting an angry toddler.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“I--are you mad at me? You sound mad at me.”

“No, I’m not mad,” Charlotte said calmly despite her mounting frustration. “What do you want to talk about.”

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not, but I will be if you don’t tell me why you called.”

“Okay, okay,” James said. He hesitated and for a moment Charlotte thought he’d hung up, but then he spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” Yes, I can tell by the many texts I’ve received and your upcoming nuptials to someone else Charlotte thought. “And . . . I don’t know.”

Charlotte waited. She knew there was more and he was just cutting himself off.

“Sometimes I wish I was marrying you instead of Vanessa,” he finally said, slurring his fiancee’s name harder than the other words. “Am I slurring? I feel like I’m slurring.”

For a moment, Charlotte felt unable to speak; her chest was tight and everything had slowed down like she was underwater. Any lingering tiredness had vanished from her mind.

“I just think you’re so beautiful,” James said, barreling forward. “And amazing. And smart. Not that Vanessa isn’t, but you’re smarter. And more amazing . . . er.” He laughed at his made up word, a bark in the night. Charlotte closed her eyes and screwed them up tightly. She hated hearing James compare her to Vanessa; it was a comparison she’d made far too many times on her own, especially during the lonely nights when she missed him.

“James, why don’t we talk about this in the morning?” Charlotte suggested.

“I mean it,” James said, his voice sounding clearer and far more sober than it had a moment ago. “I’d be a lot better off with you.”

Charlotte thought about how many times she’d wished for him to tell her that very thing. She knew he was drunk, but didn’t drunk people tend to be more honest? Charlotte knew better than to let herself hope and yet there it was, a tiny candle flame in her chest.

“Let’s talk in the morning,” Charlotte said, gentler this time. “You should go back to your friends. And drink some water.”

“You’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, I promise.”

“I love you,” James said insistently.

“I love you, too.”

The next day, Charlotte found herself completely unable to focus on work. She’d waited to text James until after 10:00 AM, sure that his head was probably in a world of pain from the night before. She tried to write to take her mind off of her conversation with James the night before, but she ended up staring at a blank screen, the cursor blinking endlessly.

I’m sure he’s taking it easy today she told herself. “I’m sure he’s taking it easy today,” she repeated aloud, as if she might convince herself that it was true. Her tiny glow of hope from the previous night was growing dimmer with each passing minute. Finally, worried she was going to make herself completely crazy, Charlotte decided to drive into town and go to the grocery store. There wasn’t anything she particularly needed, but she had to get out of the house. She dressed quickly and grabbed her keys and wallet before heading outside to her car.

Charlotte drove through the trees, completely preoccupied. She couldn’t help but glance at her phone on the passenger seat over and over, just to check and see if she had a new message. During one such glance, the car jolted alarmingly. Charlotte swore and whipped her head up to look out the windshield. She didn’t see anything obvious that had caused the car to move like that, no new hood ornament that looked like Bambi, but she stopped the car and turned it off, her heart still racing. After a moment, she climbed out and walked around the car. Everything seemed okay until she got around to the front right tire. Flat. Christ, she must’ve popped it on a rock or something. She knew she should’ve listened to Kaitlyn when she warned her to replace her old tires. Charlotte sighed heavily, frustrated. She had a spare tire in the trunk, but no tire iron or jack, making the spare virtually useless to her in that moment. Charlotte reached back into the car and retrieved her phone and in addition to noting that no, James hadn’t tried to contact her, she also had no service.

“Dammit!” she exclaimed, her voice sounding intrusive to the woods around her. Charlotte thought for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. There was a phone at the cabin, but she was pretty sure she was about halfway to town already. She could go back and call somebody, or she could just walk the rest of the way into town and hook up with a mechanic there. Either way, she was walking. Charlotte grabbed her wallet and locked her car with a polite beep before heading down the road towards town. She knew there weren’t many houses in the area, but maybe she’d get lucky and run into one of her temporary neighbors.

Charlotte had walked for maybe a quarter of a mile when she heard the rumble of a truck and tires on the dirt road. It was coming from up ahead and Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. As the truck grew closer and pulled to a stop, she realized it was a forest service vehicle and felt even luckier than she had all day.

“Out for a walk.” Zig asked after he rolled down the driver’s side window.

“Sort of. I popped a tire on my car and didn’t have any service on my phone, so I was heading into town to find a mechanic,” Charlotte explained.

“That’s the bad part about being in the woods, there are a lot of dead spots for cell reception,” Zig said. “Or good, depending on if you want to get out here to take a break.”

“Definitely bad if you have a car situation,” she said.

“Do you have a spare?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a tire iron or a jack,” she said.

“Well, luckily for you, I happen to have both in the back. Hop in, I’ll take you back to your car.”

“Really?” Charlotte asked. “Thanks.” She walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Sitting beside him, she suddenly felt nervous again. Good lord, am I ever going to be able to be around him without turning into a teenager? “So what are you doing out here? Patrolling the road for damsels in distress?”

Zig laughed. God, even his laugh was sexy. “Sort of. It’s my turn to drive out here and check the roads. I’m usually not a fan, but I might revise my opinion after today.”

Charlotte blushed. Is he flirting with me? No, he’s not. Is he?

They arrived back at her car and Zig hopped out and grabbed the tools from the back. Charlotte popped the trunk of her car and retrieved the spare tire.

“Oh, I can do that,” Charlotte said as Zig began to work on her car.

“I don’t doubt it, but consider this part of the full service damsel in distress package,” he said, glancing up to flash her a smile. When her eyes met his, Charlotte felt a heat spread through her, pooling in her abdomen. She let her mind wander for a moment and she could just imagine those eyes locked onto hers as she straddled him, his fingers digging into her hips . . .

“Um, so, are you a car guy?” she asked, trying to focus on the situation at hand.

Zig shrugged.

“More of a motorcycle guy, really,” he said.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Charlotte said. “Motorcycles are cool.” Oh my god, shut up.

“Do you ride?”

“Me? Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I have a pathological fear of getting bugs in my teeth.”

Zig laughed. “I get that. Thankfully, my helmet has a visor so I don’t have to worry about that.”

“That’s good,” Charlotte said. “You don’t want . . . bugs in your teeth.” She felt stupid as the words came out of her mouth. Zig glanced up at her and smirked.

“You know,” he said. “I have a second helmet that also has a visor. If you ever want to face your bug fear, I could take you out for a ride.”

Charlotte imagined riding behind him on his motorcycle, the engine purring below them as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself into his back. She coughed nervously.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “But if my fear gets worse, I expect you to cover my therapy bills.”

“Deal,” Zig said with a grin as he stood up. “Okay, you’re all set.”

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Charlotte said. “Really, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I wasn’t looking forward to walking all the way to town.”

“Hey, it’s not problem,” he said. “Tell you what: do you know where the mechanic is?” She shook her head. “It’s off of Main St. and 4th, take a left and go up a couple blocks, it’ll be on your right. You can’t miss it. Tell them I sent you. I’ll call ahead and get them to set you up with a deal on a tire.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Charlotte protested as he tossed the tools and her old tire into the back of the forest service truck, but he brushed her off.

“This is a full service damsel in distress rescue, remember?” he joked. “Don’t worry about it, they owe me a favor anyway.”

“Well, thank you,” Charlotte said. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Zig said as he climbed into the truck. He tipped his hat to her and smiled. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” she said. He waved as he pulled away and Charlotte watched the truck for a moment and exhaled as she drove away. Every time she was around Zig, she felt like she forgot how to breathe.

As the mechanic put the new tire on her car, Charlotte sat in the waiting room and checked her phone. No new messages. The tiny candle flame in her chest went out with the smallest whisper, her hopes fading away like smoke.

Part 7

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ourloveislegendrarry · 7 years

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Why Failure is OK

TW: mentions of a suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, & self harm

Hi friends! Boy, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I know I’ve dropped off the face of the Earth. Just after I’d come up with that really cool drarry Hunger Games thing too, what’s up with that?

Let’s talk about some stuff. Strap in, I have a feeling this’ll be a long one.

If you remember, a couple of months ago I was asking for everyone’s well wishes about an application I had sent out for my dream school, and if you DID send well wishes and were waiting for an answer, thank you much for caring and sharing in my life.

I did not get in. One week before my birthday, I got my rejection letter. I was crushed. It was completely unexpected to me and everyone around me. I had all of the qualifications, recommendation letter upon recommendation letter - it did not matter. I started to pull away from Tumblr, shield myself, thinking, how can I go back and tell all of these people that I’m not good enough? I started to spiral.

In late February, I found out I did not get into any of my other choices. Not one. Not even my safety school. I was overcome with grief, feeling guilty that I perhaps hadn’t tried hard enough, mad at my high school self for dropping the ball. I spiraled.

To understand what happens next, we have to go back.

I’ve loved drarry probably for as long as I’ve loved Harry Potter. I don’t remember exactly how I discovered it, but in my imagination there’s rainbows and butterflies and a beautiful glowing light to illuminate the fanfiction.net logo. Being as I was a real angsty teen TM, I loved them. I related so much to fanfiction versions of Draco, this scared, starved for affection little boy with nowhere to turn. I already love little HP with all of my heart, but these years struck Draco Malfoy deep deep deep into my soul. Drarry was my chicken soup for the soul.

Other than drarry, high school was not good for me. The specifics don’t matter, but if you’d like a glance into my depression-addled brain, you can read All for Naught, the first drarry fanfic I ever wrote. Lots of ups and downs. My writing has gotten so much better, but I still struggle with depression to this day. In my freshman and sophomore year of high school, I self harmed almost every day.* It’s not something I am in any way proud of, and even though it’s been years, it is still something I carry with me every day.

Late in my junior year, I tried to commit suicide. This was by far the lowest point in my life. It is NEVER the answer to the questions you are so desperately asking. Never. I am endlessly grateful, every day, that my suicide attempt was just that. An attempt. I spent one week in the hospital and met so many people like me, got some medication (MODERN MEDICINE IS INCREDIBLE AND REAL AND IT WORKS!!!!!), and started to heal. Because drarry had always been a good coping method for me, I had always wanted to start a specific blog to talk about my love, but I’d just never worked up the nerve to do it. The day after I got out of the hospital, on January 27th, 2015, ourloveislegendrarry was born, and I was launched into this wonderful world with endless throngs of excellent humans. Sarah, Lex, April, Jenna, Juju, Dicta, Anna, Em, Levi, to name a small few. And of course, Leia. My unbelievable gift from the universe. I met her two weeks after the worst night of my life, and I have not ever looked back.

I saw a glimpse of that former Sara again this year. The amount of guilt, anger, and sadness in mu body was insurmountable. I eventually drifted away from Tumblr completely, with no explanation, not knowing how to say “I just can’t right now.” I went back into therapy. Tried some new meds. Totaled a car in Richmond (that story is on my Insta, shameless self promo, @sarahelendinosaur (but also please tell me it’s you so I can follow you back!!!!)). It’s been an uphill battle.

I have dreamed so many times about writing this post, but in my head, I was always writing it as I was packing to leave for my dream school, and would end with the ever hopeful note of “I was sad but now I’m not and I have everything I want and everything is perfect.” That was a nice thought, but it just isn’t realistic. Things don’t happen perfectly, and certainly never the way we plan. But that’s okay. I am putting all of this out there so that someone, somewhere can find some comfort in knowing that you are not alone. There are some young people on this site that look up to me, and while I never want to lose that, I also want you to know that I am human. We are all human. Somehow people really ended up loving this dumb little blog I birthed, but it doesn’t mean I’m better or different at all, really.

You can do it too, is what I’m trying to say. You can have everything you want. Everything that seems so far away, you will get there. One step, and then the next, and before you know it, you are there. And sometimes, you will fail. Oh, you will fail. But remember that there is no one road to happiness. Sometimes we want something and it doesn’t work out because the universe is nudging you towards something bigger, better. There is hope if you look for it, if you reach for it. It is all around you.

So, where do I go from here? What’s next for me? I don’t know. Seriously. No clue.

But honestly, truly, I cannot wait to find out.**

All my love,

Sara xxx

*I never ever mean to so lightly graze over the topic of self harm/suicide. If you are reading this right now and you are thinking about it, or perhaps have already tried it, please tell someone. A parent, a friend, your guidance counselor. Call a hotline. I also cant ever condone only talking to people over the internet about it, BUT, if you need your first step to be a small one, my inbox is open. Just get help. Please, reach out. Keep reaching out until someone listens.

**I wrote this post about a month ago, and as of two weeks ago, I was accepted to New College of Florida. It is not Massachusetts, where I truly want to be, but it is an incredible school, the best Florida school I ever could have hoped for, and I feel so lucky and honored to be going there this fall. I applied rolling decision at the beginning of June, so my acceptance was extremely unlikely, but it happened. Keep trying.

#tw: sucide mention #tw: self-injury #there she go again #makin personal posts #thank you so much for reading #if you've gotten this far #i love you

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