#first pov

[chronosh0t]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸺ 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 .*ೃ

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𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: Lee's pov, gn reader, canon-divergence,

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: “I hoped for luck, I looked for it and believed, not knowing it had your name in it” — just something silly, maybe a log from him. might be ooc 〔 NO BETA 〕

…………

It wasn't easy. I think it never was. But at least, for a few years we weren't all by ourselves, maybe it didn't seem to be that way, or that's how I'd like to remember it. The point is, it really wasn't easy.

Young, inexperienced, and people would gradually try to take advantage of our situation, of our own nativity, innocence, or some would just try to help us for their own selfish reasons, personal satisfaction or beliefs, eventually leaving us alone. Waiting for some good luck to strike us and change a little bit our cruel reality, only to find out life doesn't work by luck. The world doesn't work by luck.

Luck is false hope for the powerless, the less fortunate, to feed their delusions, that one day things will change, one day perhaps their luck will change and misfortune will leave their side and be replaced by a God that'd help them. That is luck, and I keep thinking so. I believed in luck back then, desperate for a chance, merely to be met by the unwavering proof of reality.

I swore to do whatever, anything and everything, just to keep him safe. Growing up by the taste of bitterness, the mould in the walls and the cold sheets, inside a room that was not safe for either of us, it made me realise I was part of those adults. Working nonstop for some exchanges that barely kept us alive my mind was going numb, my hands were too cold and my logic was losing focus. I believed in luck. But luck was not an option, never was, never will. However, things needed to be done, anything was good and valid if it meant I could get the chance to save his body from his weak heart.

Did it ever cross my mind the idea of becoming some sort of hired assassin? No. I don't think anyone ever grows up having those ideas. Yet, there I was. Loading a gun, hiding in the darkness, my hands tinted with crimson red, cold as the river. Money was the only thing occupying my mind, my reasoning blind due to the lack of time. Yet I know it was also a bad idea, what if I end up dying? What if, for a single stupid mistake, I end up getting killed and disposed of like a bag of trash? He would've ended up alone. Risks needed to be taken.

So I took them. And I kept going. One step at a time, and I thought things would get better, falling in the traps of luck. Because even if I was smart enough, I was still a teenager, I was still a young, inexperienced kid trying to make it to another day. Eighteen years old, and I should be studying. I should be concentrating on which university I wanted to go to, maybe going out with some friends, maybe celebrating my birthday, his. Perhaps travelling to other places and taking pretty pictures for the memories with our family. Anything but whatever I was living right now.

Eighteen years and I was holding a gun, pointing at someone I didn't know and I didn't want to know. The more I knew the less I wanted to be part of this, the less I wanted to keep going, but that wasn't for me. I was selfless, as the older brother, that was what I was supposed to do. My job was to take care of him, to save enough money and help him. Did I ever regret it? No, I don't think I ever did. But I did wish for luck to come and help me. I couldn't never sleep properly, the idea of being unaware of what was happening was unpleasant to me. The same fear hunting me down whenever he went to sleep and I didn't know if something bad would happen. His heart was weak, and the days were harsh and cold.

But we made it work.

Did I mention how bitter is reality? I did all that, I killed so many people, I was betrayed and for what? For the world to take away the slim chance I built for a better tomorrow. Crushed by humanity's mistake. I refused to let go, so I took yet another risk.

I had the chance to give up my humanity for him to remain, for him to be strong, to finally have the chance to grow up in a stable environment, experience what people of his age do. That, I don't regret it. Even if it means to be betrayed again, to be used and disposed, to me neglected and hurt, to be left alone. It didn't matter, for the reality was slightly better than before.

But I didn't want to test luck. Yet I kept hoping. Even if I was against some of his choices, I still thought it was good because it meant he was growing, he formed his own opinion, forged his own paths. And that was more than enough, I couldn't ask for more. I shouldn't ask for more, right? Because that was all that I ever wanted. For him.

What about me, though? How laughable. Calling myself selfless when I was still greedy enough to wish, to hope for luck to come and save me. I was okay with how my life turned out to be because I was too busy to even think about it deeply. I thought of giving up. Of accepting my own reality.

I was someone who would judge those who believed in luck, or those who would wait instead of taking actions and change their fate. Yet, there I was. Inside that cold room, the dim light of the fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling, the industrial design of the metallic tables, and some digital screens beeping in the desk, filling the awkward silence between the three of us.

I was pondering what was the reason behind their decision of becoming a Construct. Did they have an unfortunate life like me? Or was it out of sheer selflessness and their sense of justice? I didn't care enough and I didn't want to know more than their names. Lucia and Liv. Because, from experience, I knew getting to know someone too much meant developing a sense of closeness I didn't want to. Their name was fine, that was more than enough.

It was the same with you. I just needed to know your name, nothing else, nothing more. Because we were made for war, made to fight in humanity's name, looking as human as possible but never being treated like one. We chose to, or forced to, give up that side of us for reasons no one but us would ever know.

Constructs were just that, war machines. To be used and disposed of. Yet, there you were. With your gentle voice and touch, leading us forwards but running at our side, giving us order but hearing our opinions and suggestions in every single step you decided to take. For you, the three of us, meant more than just machines to fight the enemy, we meant more than just a frame and a dog tag. To you, we were equal to humans. To you, we were friends, companions.

And I believed in luck. Because of you. I was able to let go of prejudice and decided to let my guard down, I decided to leave my past and traumas and give you my trust. You ended up being the reason I thought luck actually came and saved me. I wasn't betrayed, I wasn't used, I wasn't disposed of and I wasn't left behind. Because, for you, I was more than just a three letter name, I was someone you cherished deeply, I was part of your team, I was part of this… family.

I wasn't just Lee. I was Lee from Gray Raven. And I was not alone. The world, still as cold and harsh, the fights endless and my hands still hold guns, but now even if they're made of metal, they're not cold anymore. When I walk and I look at my side, there's my teammates and you. You, ready to risk that precious life to protect us, to give a chance for a new tomorrow, to give other people the chance to believe in hope.

You.

That's why, once again, I didn't think twice in risking my life if it means to bring the same chances, to deliver the same hope. Because I am Lee from Gray Raven, I decided to do what I only could do, fighting against time, against any odds, giving my life, my past, present and future to hope. Giving myself to this new family, giving my life to you, refusing to give up and settle for less. I made up my mind never resting again, not until I could meet a reality where Gray Raven is always together, the four of us.

And I will keep doing so. As long as Gray Raven exists, as long as you are here with me, I will keep fighting, I will keep holding those guns I used to hate the most, I will keep going forward, I will keep hoping. Because even if the world is cold and dark, every day the sun rises from the horizon. Because every single time, spring comes after the winter and the flowers bloom admits the chaos.

I once wished for luck to come and save me, not knowing it had a different name. Your name.

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#pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr lee #lee hyperreal #pgr global #canon divergence #oc x canon #sae pgr writings #lee save me #pgr commandant #first pov

[cxcassii]

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

reincarnation au snippets

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

…

“Earth to Eren,” Sasha says, waving her hand in front of my face. I blink several times, turning my head to look at her. “Where were you?”

“In another time.”

“Yeah that happens to me a lot.” She gives me a sad smile. Suddenly, an intense wave of nausea runs through me as a very loud and intrusive thought stabs my mind like a knife slicing into it—how far back does Sasha remember?

“I’m going to pretend,” Mikasa says carefully, “I understand what’s going on.”

I can’t help but laugh at her tone. She sounds almost jealous. “Don’t worry. It’s not too interesting.”

“He’s lying!” Sasha shouts. “It’s soo interesting!”

She leans her elbow on the arm of the couch, thin brows furrowing. It makes her have a similar expression to the one she wore two thousand years ago. Then she scowls, and the look is complete. I give her a half-assed salute.

Sasha does the same, offering her heart to a cause that hasn't existed in twenty centuries. “Dedicate your heart!”

“What are you even talking about?” She looks completely puzzled and asks, “Are you guys going on about something that has to do with that story Eren made up?” I nod around a small smile, slightly jutting my eyebrows.

“Yeah! I made sure to tell her last night all about the highest ranked cadet I personally named her after.” Sasha says around a massive grin.

Mikasa’s expression shifts into something irresistibly adorable, her brows drawn together and she nibbles smally at her bottom lip. “I’ve always been confused why, though. I’m not strong or brave like that Mikasa character. If I saw a ‘titan’, I’d probably piss myself and run away.” Her cheeks flush slightly, and she clears her throat before looking away from us. “Seriously, this story of your’s is the stuff of nightmares.”

I snicker a little. “Yeah, that was kind of the point.”

She meets my eyes once more, emotions unspecified swirling in the chasms of her gray hues. I think about her answer, really sit there and think about it. It’s an earnest explanation and it makes something deep in my soul shift in a manner of marvel. A sincere, untainted reaction to the depiction of the horrors from our last life. Luckily, for now anyways, little does she know. There are parts of me that somewhat hope she stays this way. Even if she never remembers who I am, I can live with that. It’s worth it to see zero traces of the previous life not clouding her expressions, not in the slightest.

“No way!” Sasha exclaims dramatically, gesturing her arms wide. “You’re the embodiment of who Mikasa is! Titans might not exist, but you are brave and strong. Just not in the ways you’re thinking.” Sasha doesn’t elaborate further than that. For me specifically, she doesn’t have to. I wholeheartedly concur, despite not knowing Mikasa that well in this life yet. What she and Sasha seem to share illuminated those faucets she retained from the last life, in one manner or another. I feel certain of that.

…

ᡣ𐭩 story link ᡣ𐭩

#eremika #mikasa ackerman #eren jeagar #エレミカ #eremika fanfic #my writing #wip wednesday #fic snippet #first pov #Eren pov

[kybercrystals94]

Last Words

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 25 | Alternate Prompt 7: Last Words

Rated: T | Words: 392 | Summary: Kix reflects on the last words that haunt him. [Character Focus: Kix}

Famous last words they say, because, in reality, most last words are not spectacular or special. They aren’t deep or poetic, they don’t inspire greatness or alter the course of history. Often, they are pathetic and small, underrated and thoughtless. Because, often, you didn’t know they would be the last words you ever would speak. Even as you lay dying, you cling to that threadbare hope that you might have a moment longer. But you don’t. You die. The words you said are the last, whether you meant them or not.

I’ve heard far more than my fair share of last words. On the battlefield, in medical tents, in hospitals. I’ve heard soldiers plead to live or beg to die. I’ve heard soldiers mutter the names of brothers they thought I was, but wasn’t. Helps that I have their brother’s face, so I let them believe it. What’s the harm really, if it brings them some small comfort in their last moments.

No, most last words aren’t famous. Not in the slightest. But they are haunting, and I have been burdened as their keeper. The same voice in different tonality, different words, over and over again. Clone voices. Brother voices.

“Where am I?”

“I can’t see.”

“Please, make it stop.”

“Did we finish the mission?”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“It’s quiet now.”

“The voices have stopped.”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

I stopped counting how many times I’ve heard that one. Good soldiers follow orders. Maybe it gave them peace, knowing that they gave everything. For their brothers, for their generals, for the war effort. Good soldiers that followed every deadly order.

That’s what I thought.

Then, Tup killed a Jedi.

And he uttered those words over and over again, like a chant. Like a mantra. Eyes unseeing, the words tripping over and over again across his lips until they were meaningless. Good soldiers follow orders…good soldiers follow orders…good soldiers follow orders…

And a murderous glint flashed in his eyes before he lunged. “Kill the Jedi.”

Soon, Tup was gone. And Fives. And the ordeal scrubbed from the records.

I heard the words again, from dying soldiers, last words breathed out on shallow breaths.

But they’d lost their nobility. Their purpose.

Until today.

“Execute Order 66.”

And everything makes sense.

END

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#Febuwhump 2024 #FebuwhumpDay25 #Alternate Prompt 7: Last Words #star wars the clone wars #tcw kix #AU Kix timeline #count Dooku didn’t kidnap Kix #order 66 #good soldiers follow orders #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #the clone wars #fives mentioned #tup mentioned #first pov

[missbunnybunny]

His hands

Tags: +18 nsfw, smut, hand kink, size difference, begging, drinking, many more that I can’t remember

Minors don’t interact!

First time posting if I missed anything plz tell me, if I have any errors plz don’t hesitate to let me know.

It wasn't your fault. The way his hands looked..you couldn’t help but wonder. What his hands would look like around your body. What they would look like around your throat. His big hand, that made the cup he was holding so small. His long thick fingers, pressed around the glass. The way his smooth skin curled up slightly as he moved, the way his veins looked in the light. The pad of his hands looked rough and calloused, the dim bar light making his pale skin glow. making everything fall right into place.

The shirt he was wearing wasn’t helping at all, every time he slightly moved his muscles tightened. His tight shirt pressed up against him, his muscles looked big and firm. He towered over the table, making everything look so small in comparison to his big size.

You couldn’t help it, he looked just so heavenly. Even when your friend handed you a drink, asking if you were okay, you just couldn’t look away. But like the saying goes “ curiosity killed the cat”. He must have noticed your staring, because he looked up at you and motioned you over with his thick finger. You don’t know if it was the alcohol or your horny brain, but like a moth to a flame you walked towards him. Smile creeping on your face, with excitement.

It didn’t take long for your most deprived inner thoughts to make an appearance. ‘ I wonder if they would look good on me?’ You said mindlessly, slurring your words. He hummed and asked ‘ what would look good sweetheart?’ With a tone that sounded like he was smiling. taking another sip of your drink and looking at him ‘ your hand as a necklace’ you smiled.

His laughter sounded like a godsend in the small corner we sat at, the deep and rough sounding timber of his voice. He held your face with the same hand you’ve been drooling over, he leant in and said ‘ I can make it happen angel.’ His hand slipped from your face to your neck, with what looked like a satisfied smirk, but you couldn’t tell since the shadows covered him or he had a mask on. You couldn’t tell very well, partly because of the alcohol.

slightly tightening his hold on your neck.‘ It looks so good on you ’ He spoke up again, all you could do was smile and say ‘ I want them tighter and all over my body’. Pleading and with much need you begged him. He breathed in and let out a sigh, his breath smelt of alcohol, maybe that was the liquid courage you both needed. For tonight was going to be a night to remember each other’s bodies like works of art.

You just couldn’t wait to see what else his big frame was hiding.

#toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #könig cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x y/n #könig x y/n #könig call of duty #ghost call of duty #cod modern warfare #first pov #first post #simon ghost riley #simon riley x y/n

[weirdwriter69]

Kiss Me Goodnight

Will comforts the reader after they wake up from a bad nightmare. Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Rating: G Tags: Fluff, Nightmares, Comfort, First Person Word Count: 1,433

Tossing and turning in my sleep, I snap awake from my nightmares. I find myself in a familiar place. Will’s favorite soft silk sheets are beneath me, and I carefully turn over to see him sleeping next to me. I sit up in the bed, trying to clear my head. I can’t recall what exactly happened in my nightmare, but it made me feel absolutely terrified like I had been swallowed by a black abyss, never to escape. I take a deep breath and try to lay back down.

A few moments later, my body viciously shakes me awake. I am forced to lay awake once again, but this time, Will stirs awake. A soft sigh escapes from his lips before he stretches and grunts. He isn’t sure what awoke him. Regardless, he puts his arm back around me, signaling me to lay back down and curl up next to him. I easily do as I am told. Pressing my ear against his chest, I love hearing the rhythmic thumping of his heart. He mumbles in his sleeping voice, “What happened, my precious one?”

I quickly whisper, “Nothing, just nightmares again.”

His discolored eyes flick open as he becomes fully alert. His glaze focuses on me. “What haunts thou at such a late hour? The only thought that should stuff our small heads is the blessed silence of sleep or if we are lucky, the holy land of dreams, but never shall thou be cursed with nightmares, not under my roof nor under my arm.”

His sweet poetic words carry the truth, yet they are far from it. I find myself haunted by my past. I left my time period so long ago; however, my past or the upcoming future taints my every waking moment.

I have spent the last three years with Will after moving out of Comte’s mansion. I decided on a whim to give up on my dream of getting my Ph.D. in America. Well, it was never my dream. It was some idea passed down onto by my parents. I was halfway through my bachelor’s when I went to study aboard one summer in Paris, and I followed a strange man through a time traveling door. The rest is history.

I do not regret my choice. I am much better off here than I was there. My passion has always been in the arts, and Will recognized that. He saw my love for creative writing and acting. Under his wing, I became a successful actor in his troupe, and I have even begun writing manuscripts for stories of my own.

Right now, it does not make sense why the past haunts me so. I should be happy and carefree with everything that has happened to me. I am with the man of my dreams for Christ’s sake, yet some part of me feels as if I am burden in this time period. Will often joking teases me that I am not fit for this time. Even after three consecutive years in the nineth century, I still stick out like a sore thumb.

I look up to Will. “It’s nothing now. I can’t recall what even happened.”

He stares at me for a moment longer to look at the truth within my eyes. His expression relaxes while he gently strokes my cheek. “There is a cloud behind thine irises. A rainy day, no matter how small, can still ruin a party, and the last thing I wish is for thee to be tortured by the pains and chills of harsh rain. I want thee to suffer no storm alone,” Will whispers to me.

His ostentatious words convey his care. Before I can form a reply, he sighs and hugs me, “If words cannot depict the horrors within your fragile mind, relax into me, my darling.”

“I think… it was a nightmare about my past. People were upset and angry with me that I left everything on the flip of a dime. They demanded that I return all the happiness I somehow stole from them. There was a points system and everything. It didn’t make much sense. Heh, my university was after me as well because of my unpaid tuition I still owe them,” I carefully pieced together what was bothering me, “Look, I don’t regret staying at all, but sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what is happening back in the future. Other times, I worry about what would have happened to me if I choose to go home or if I didn’t have the wonderful opportunity to meet you and all the other residents at the mansion.”

Will sympathetically nods, “Please do not fear what is no longer reality. I know it is one thing to say and another thing to do. I am glad that thou stayed in a realm different from thine own; however, I understand that it seems like a sacrifice on nights like this. Thou owe no one any emotion nor are thou required to pay debts with points and trials.”

I stare at the blank ceiling as the room is swallowed into a shallow silence broken by soft breathing. The words fall to come to my lips, but I let out a small chuckle, “yeah, I just worry. I worry a lot over the small reasons regardless of if they are real or not, ya know that. Heh, this reminds me of the first nightmare I had coming here about a vampire who bite me, and Sebastian warned me not to give anyone my heart or my destiny.”

Will follows along with the story. “I do recall someone running off in fear, and that is how I found the beauty in front of me. Time is a collection of random tragedies and comedies, my dear. Nothing ends how we want it to, but all’s well that ends well. As thou hast seen, time travelers are not free from the hands of chance and fate. Thou did not give up thine heart nor destiny; instead, thou followed thine heart and destiny.”

A smile slips across my face. “Thank you, Will, for being here and being there for me. I know it’s hard for you to grasp the reality we live in as well. You woke up from the 1600’s and got thrown two hundred years into the future while for me, it was getting tossed two hundred years in the past. Two sides of the same coin of troubles you might say. Forgive my ramblings, but I deeply appreciate you, Will.”

I lightly tap his nose. “In fact, I love you,” I tease him as I echo the same words he has heard over and over again, but I still mean it just as strongly as when I said it to him the first time. He pinches my nose in return. “I love you too, Juliet”

“You prick!” I jokingly yelp at him while softly smacking him with my pillow, “If we are but a fleeting, teenage romance to you… well, I- I… I don’t have a comeback for the Bard of Avon.”

He sticks out his tongue while laughing. “Like Romeo, I was at death’s door for my love, but unlike the fool who plays with the strings of love, I came to you because I heard the music. My words utter no false ills. Our romance was not the end of us. It was a new beginning in a new era.”

I can never match his mythical language, but I could quote his works back at him. “If music be the food of love, play on.”

Will puts on a fox’s smile, “a writer should know better than to quote another author so blandly. Thou did not do the line the justice it so rightfully deserves, but alas the adorable look you wear makes it worth it.”

I completely forgot that I woke up because of a nightmare. Will had his magical way of distracting me. Exhaustion sank into my bones as the moonlight came through the window. I settled down, pulling the covers back up.

Will pouts, “I may be a tease, but I wish thou would kiss me goodnight.”

I hold his warm cheek in my hand, and I press my lips gently on his forearm. “Goodnight, William. May the land of sleep bring thou dreams instead of nightmares plagued by false lies and promises. Tomorrow, we will wake up to a new day, but for now, we must rest.”

He steals a kiss from my lips. “Now, this bard can sleep happily with his love in his arms forever more.”

#cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikemenvamp #ikevamp will #ikevamp #ikemenvampire will #ikemenvamp william #first pov #fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemenvamp fanfic #comfort fic #fluff

[scrumptiouslampwobblercop]

The demon in my closet

Introduction

Never have I ever tried to find my brothers killer but instead find something a bit deeper than that.

My brother has always been a mystery to me. We never really spoke often even when we tried it was always just a nod or wave because he was never really in my life, he always had excuses saying he was too busy or never had the time, so I never tried to have a good relationship with him since dads’ death.

#demon x reader #monster romance #my ocs #oc insert #first post #first pov

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

Under The Same Sky

@padfootastic

Sirius after James's death—(I know, I'm sorry. They're both alive in my heart as well)—he's at the funeral and this is the speech he's giving. 

In this AU, Peter was charged and arrested.

This is written in first POV; basically, Sirius talking to James’ grave. Because I need closure. 

Cool? Cool. Let's begin.

────────── ⋅❉⋅ ──────────

No one walks in to be killed with a smile.

Nobody, I suppose, but you, James.

Your smile could kill people, with its beauty, James. The way your hazel eyes would light up whenever you were pleased as though they had captured the molten gold rays of the sun.

Your smile was beautiful. It was a work of art, truly. The eighth wonder of the world. A wonder that the world, and I were permitted to see. A wonder that shall never be seen again.

Your smile will forever live in the letters you've written, and the photos I've taken, but they will never live on you now, will they?

You died with a smile, literally. When I walked into the room, you had a smile of utmost peace. What were you thinking about in your last moments James?

I wish I could ask, just like the old times. Just like yesterday, before you were murdered.

I can still ask.

But, this time, Jamie, you can't answer.

To me, our friendship was magic, James, pure and simple. To a child who has spent his life repenting for the actions of those beyond the grave, it had been a new way of looking at the world.

They say that the world’s most beautiful piece of magic is the very first Hogwarts Letter.

I disagree.

Those crimson-written, perfectly bow-tied letters that you'll never write again were different.

A stern woman with a tight smile did not write them instead, they were written by a boy whose soul seemed to be a gentle blend of light and dark. One so young and old, of harmony and discord, and somehow home to a spirit so young.

I wish I could have run my hand through your hair one last time once more you. Wish I could've smiled at you one last time. I wish I could have told you that I loved you before you...died.

Before you smiled your last smile.

Before you took your last breath.

Before you left us, left me.

Before, before. Isn't it amusing, Jamie, that whenever we look back, we see time frozen and still? We capture it in little words and phrases: before, back then, back in my days, those days, remember the times— as if the only way to let a moment stay is to label and distill it. Capsulize, crystallize, and classify it all. And it stays there all organized on the timeline in preciseness. Like a bookshelf.

Like your bookshelf.

I remember the first time I saw your family tree. I remember being stunned by the fact that it was a real tree, a tree that bloomed fruits.

The gold fruits were for those in your family who are among us, who live, breathe, and laugh because they're Potters'. And that's what Potters' do. That's what we do.

Or what we used to do.

I remember the tsunami of sorrow that had crashed into you, into me, into us, the day we found out that your parents died. We both felt disbelief when we found that their fruits had turned silver.

You touched the crystal apple and cherry with such tenderness that day as if you were afraid that one small touch would break it. I was afraid that you would break.

I'm afraid to go see the tree, because I know I'll see that silver mango hanging from that tree. And I'm afraid that when I do, I'll snap. Because that would mean, that you're really gone James, and I just can't accept that.

'Denial is not a good look on you, Padfoot,' that's what you would say if you were here. But, that's the problem, isn't it? You're not here when you're supposed to be.

Because you're dead.

You were my blue crayon, the one I never had enough of, the one I use to color my sky.

The one that's not in my crayon box anymore.

#james potter #sirius black #for padfootastic #drabble #wip #prongsfoot #speech #angst #hearfelt #feels #dead James - I'm sorry #first pov #sad sirius #harry potter #i'm crying #sad #sorrow #grieving #guilt #memories #dealing with grief #loss #AU #poetry

[worldwide-simp]

Diary of the inferior

Scp x reader

(isn't really proof-read )

This is something I had written a few words of, stored in my drafts and didn't let it see the light of day (see what I did there hehe) for some time. But I have now finished it (kinda) and its certainly one of my longest pieces. 

(The first few entries are short and poorly written, but it becomes better after some time.)

warnings: gore, kinda pessimistic views, I hate Entry 1 with all my heart, false reality, violence, euthanasia, body horror, religious talk, death.

Scp 105 is post Omega-7, she’s 24 here.

Entry 1: New Beginnings

Dear Diary, 

Maybe I should’ve listened when people told me to never take strange job opportunities.  

I thought it was perfect, I was working in a shop on minimum wage, and I could barely afford simple life necessities.

I still had to pay off my student debt and that made life all the harder. When I saw this strange opportunity presented to me by a shady caucasian man, I believed that this would be my saving light. 

I wish I had been shot that day. A bullet mysteriously found its way into my skull. A news reported merely stated it was an accident; or running from that horrid officer only to “disappear” and never see the light of day again.

I just wish that death had claimed me as one of their countless victims before immortality and the infinite loop of time laid hands upon me.

—-

Entry 2: the flower of beloved Iris

Dear Diary, 

On my photo ID, there was my smiling face. It was a smile of pure joy. You could glance at it and call it cheeky if you dared. But I was merely innocent. Innocent as a human could be. 

After the photo had been taken, I was briefed on what I’d be doing. A rambling speech about the foundation's lack of care for qualified staff and instead people with logic and reasoning. 

That gave you a fighting chance, because how bad could this job be if you just needed a little logic?  I met a girl a few weeks later. I always wondered why she had that camera with her. Perhaps it had been a dear hobby of hers? 

I found out my presumption was wrong when she took a photograph of a flower in a vase some distance away, took the picture out and then proceeded to stick her hand in the image; giving me the flower after twirling it in her fingers. 

Iris seemed proud of making me joyful, I believed I laughed all night. I later placed the flower on my desk, and even after it wilted and its petals fragile and bleak; I still folded it into my pocket and to this day it still resides there. 

She was more on the quiet side but still gave me those sad smiles with dimples on her cheeks.  I had distinctively remembered wondering about the cause of those scars on her eyelid, jaw and hands.  — 

Entry 3: false reality

Dear Diary, 

I found out Iris was an anomaly; an Scp, if you wanted a more precise definition. This was told to me by a person higher on the foundation hierarchy for its staff. Not Iris herself. 

Was I slightly hurt? Yes. 

It had left me staring into a void, although I had seen her camera doing its magic. I must have created some false reality in my head that explained this bizarre situation. 

At the time, I was scrawling through my notebook with such vigour it was comparable to an inspired writer. I was not inspired in a awestriking way. Simply wanting to write about my trepidations concerning this topic and send the letter to me in a shitty way of making myself laugh.

(Mind you, if you too were stuck as a lab assistant watching sentient doughnuts bite people, you almost certainly develop terrible humour.)

—

Entry 4: the beginning of the end

Dear Diary, 

Something strange had occurred.

I had been assigned a mission. Naturally I was confused. Lab assistants being assigned things other than cleaning up the blood after cross-testings? It was something I found most peculiar. 

They, (foundation staff),had suited me up in some strange black equipment, handed me a gun and pushed me over to some people waiting inside a black van.

I don't even have a formal qualification to handle a gun; I had screamed. Why would this be happening? I remember saying that to myself. over and over again.

A pathetic mantra that I so feebly considered answered by the many voices in my head. I cried. Then I wiped the liquid with my hand; I had refused the notion that I was a weak, feeble creature hiding the true meaning of my nature. 

When I really was just that. 

All those other people had kept their heads down, mindlessly fidgeting with their hands or drumming their fingers nervously on the knee. I merely stared at the wall, already feeling the sensation of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

I didn't know them, and at this rate; I would never.

—

Entry 5: pathetic chess games

Dear diary, 

They had gotten off the van, dressed in full tactical gear and shivering with a dreadful fear. This situation felt wrong and I memorized the look of someone who knew too much. It was in a puddle of water. It was my face.

Perhaps I was seeing the foreshadows of fate that dangled right in front of my eyes. But I saw nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing. This was all one of the many cruel games the foundation played, killing people as if they were mere chess pieces. 

All just to win to the game, only for another to proceed after that.

—

Entry 6: the majority and the minority

Dear Diary, 

 Scp-001 S. D. Locke’s proposal is one of the many 001 proposals that exist: detailing the sun becoming a hostile being that eradicates human beings, converts them into sentient piles of flesh which aim to find unconverted humans and drag them into the sunlight, for them too to become those hideous masses of skin. 

The scenario occurred in my timeline, at first I didn't know what was happening, only that the other staff members had screamed about the light being good and holy before I heard the most awful noises.

It squelched, moaned and cried. I suppressed gags and muffled my mouth with a cloth. What the fuck was happening? Where had they all gone? Why do they sound not human anymore?

I had ran out from the cover of the van to shield under the safety of a building, not before looking back and laying my eyes upon a horror of flesh melting away under the rays of the hostile sun, dragging its amorphous clumps of bodies towards me. 

They had once been human like myself. I had only saved myself but not them. I should go join them to redeem myself to the judging light and have my sins cleansed. I was a wretched human not worthy of being alive. 

I kept on running, determined to never let the sun touch my skin ever again. I had slammed the door of the building. It was desolate and empty. When I’d step on the ground too hard, I could hear the echoes of the impact.

The was a distinctive waft of bleach, specifically chlorine that reminded me of swimming pools. There was a lack of furnacing; which reminisced the not-so-distant memory of my office. I took shallow breaths, slumping down to the ground and rubbing a sore ligament. 

This was a weak thing a human could do, but I sobbed. I cried and cried until I felt like everything went numb. But it cleared my mind slightly, feeling less like a suffocating cloth and more so like a haze of cloud. 

I felt around in my breast pocket, closing my fingers around a packet and tearing it off and chewed on the granola bar slowly. My mouth felt dry and my throat burned, however, despite the lack of comfort, I still ate. 

I pondered on what I could do. Could I stay here and call for backup or try to find someone who was still alive? 

I sighed, then fiddled with the packet from the granola bar. Was I at fault for my comrades being turned into those abominations of flesh? I could've saved them; told them to stay inside the van and that I’d go out and check. It would’ve resulted in my death, but wasn't appeasing the majority a more important factor than the minority? 

—

Entry 7: The silence of the lamb

Dear Diary,  

I had a radio that I had snatched last minute from the van before dashing off. I had tried reaching out to anyone I could. But there was only silence.

—

Entry 8: Nihilism

Dear Diary, 

I had successfully contacted a person without being disoriented by loud static. I heard heavy breathing, it was loud and quite alarming. There was a persistent sloshing of liquid in the background. It was quiet for a few seconds; eerily quiet. Before someone spoke. 

“You are alone. You will stay forever alone if you do not accept the beautiful light. Go outside.” 

I threw the radio to a corner of the room, and it broke into several pieces. The voice didn't sound human anymore, it was distorted with an otherworldly passion. I was so blinded by the anger that had irrationally consumed me for a second I broke my only means of communication.  

Maybe I would be truly alone if I didn't go outside.

There was nothing to live for anymore.

—

Entry 9: kiss away the gore

Dear Diary, 

If loneliness was the way I would die, perhaps it would be better to perish in the sun than of hunger and the echoing quiet. I lived in cowardliness and fear. I can be free where I belong. 

I opened the door I had blocked two days ago. Such a feeble mind, but I had found revelation.  I will cleanse my body of this impurity, harbouring sins and the devil's hands caressing my skin. 

I will burn it all away. 

This was the only way I would be accepted, then I’d find peace. 

I stepped into the sunlight and stared at the scarlet sun's beauty. I felt my skin being pulled apart, melting into a puddle of goo, bones liquefying and a boiling feeling. My human mouth shrieked, but that was insignificant. My fingers merged together before becoming a singular stump and my body was crafted new.

There was an agony I couldn't describe in words. No matter how many times I may rip out this page and rewrite it countless times, no work of poetry could ever shed light on the feeling. 

My body was crafted pristine, I now moved surprisingly fast. The puddle of goo had moulded itself into the body of my absolute nature. I sought new flesh. That I would bind myself to another pure being. 

Later, I stumbled across a facility devoid of people, there were only pools of blood on the floor. The once pure white walls had undertones of fleshy colours. If I were still human, I would've gagged at the goriness of it all.

But I didn't, instead I lurked deeper into the building. A net ensnared my body all of a sudden, and I choked out a throaty snarl. A familiar figure loomed over me, with a knife poised at my throat. 

I gnashed my fleshy teeth together, reaching out to capture this impure human and bring it to the light. But the creases under their eyes faded, tossed the knife to the side and removed the netting. 

What was this revolting human doing-

I was engulfed in an embrace, a hand of theirs resting on the small of my back and the other placed upon my throat, pushing it back. Almost as if it was endeavouring for me not to rip out their face.

“I can't believe something like this could happen to such a beautiful person like you.” They murmured, gripping my body tighter like I would dissolve into ash at any moment. My jaw snapped abruptly and they hushed me. 

I heard the shuffling of fabric. Cool metal grazed my face before I heard them speak again; “It must be painful for you, I’ll shoot you so you can rest peacefully.” 

Then they squeezed my back with such gentleness it would be hard to imagine that someone like this would shoot me. 

The last things I felt were the soft fluttering of my dead heart, a soft kiss on the lips and seeing their appearance one more time. Admiring their shortly cut blond hair, scars adorning their face and cerulean blue eyes. 

Those beloved dimples showed as they smiled so miserably at the prospect of being alone once again. But this was for your sake. 

“Wait-”

She pulled the trigger. 

And you saw nothing. 

#scp x reader #scp 105 #scp foundation #scp au #scp #yandere scp x reader #when day breaks #S. D. Locke’s proposal #not proofread #first pov #Plot holes

[kaixcastiel27]

what does everyone think of my covers for my story, Inspartional Jounrey?

the first two are for wattpad, but haven't decided which one. so I need to know which one everyone likes!

The ones at the buttom are for hardpack and Kindle

the last one is for paperback.

it will be wrote in first POV (point of view of the main character) the first chapter will be Alice (her real name is Eun-Ae) Kim's point of view and the other is Lucy Miller's point of view.

Let me know what your Favorited cover is!

#creative writing #writerscorner #writers community #writers #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #korean character #american character #grieving #cancer #first pov #check out my first chapter on here #books and reading #book cover

[chronosh0t]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ「༄៎⭑❄ .*ೃ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: oc x Lee, soft, pretty silly, canon-divergence, first person povㅤㅤㅤ 〔 NO BETA 〕

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: perfect height difference, that's what you noticed, those pretty eyes, looking up. and you couldn't avoid teasing him a bit.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 784

✂………………………………………………………………………………………………

It comes without saying that, practically, everyone knew to some degree that you had a favourite construct from the three in your team. That didn't mean you disliked the rest, hell no, that was far from reality, but it was hard to deny how weak one of them made you go right on your knees.

If one has to pay attention to the “practically everyone”, maybe you could pick a few other human Commandants, or those Constructs that never got to work with you, that'd be reasonable. However, your weakness was also completely oblivious. Fine, maybe not that unaware of your feelings, but you were quite sure he was just… ignoring them.

Lucia and Liv would tell you it was just out of habit, of Lee trying to distance himself from others, building some pretty tall wall made of the hardest brick one could think of. You understood that well, after all, it was well known to you what he worked as before becoming a Construct. Yeah, it was understandable. But after so many years working together and having gone through so many difficulties, you were sure that he trusted you enough.

He probably did. Yet some things needed to be worked on, it was just a matter of time, you would say to yourself. That's why you swore to never push your feelings to him, you'd be sure to not make him uncomfortable or trigger some flight or fight response because that'd be terrible. The last thing you wanted was for him to hate you, or to start treating you the way he used to do when you first met. Back to square one was not an option.

Yes, you were trying. Really. Right now you are also giving your best to not give up to your impulsive thoughts. Your hands closed in fists, nails piercing your skin, red marks with the shape of the crescent moon starting to form in your palm, thinking about something sad or unfair that happened before, anything. How difficult.

The blond in question was standing in front, close enough you could smell his scent, so fucking close you could see the soft pink of his lips and the long eyelashes protecting his pretty pale blue eyes. He is talking about something, you remember he wanted to review some past missions and check his performance with his new frame, his immunity. For the love of the universe, you can't remember a thing and your ears are not picking anything he's saying.

Actually, you are, in fact, listening, you can feel your ears being blessed by his soft voice, the way he explains how his weapon works, showing you a video or that's what it looks like. But your brain is not processing the information fast enough because it's focused on a different thing. The sad memories are not working as they should be.

ㅤㅤㅤ“....dant…”

He is so damn pretty.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Commandant!”

The sudden grasp in your arm and loud voice startled you. He was looking up at you, eyes locked with yours, mind slowly drifting away again but Lee talked again. Keeping you focused.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Are you okay? You seem to be lost in thoughts,” he said, his voice filled with a noticeable concern for you, his eyes as softer as they could ever be, “we can continue this later, you should rest.” Finished while turning off the digital screen.

In those seconds he said and did that, you relaxed your tense body, your nails stopped marking your skin and decided to risk it all by giving in to your impulsive thoughts. Lee started to walk away from you, probably to let you rest and leave the lounge but you acted fast. Your hand holding onto his arm, pulling him closer again and, in seconds, you kiss him on his forehead. Lightly, but enough to give you a boost of serotonin, dopamine, whatever else, his hair softly tickling your lips and you could sense him tense up.

Stiff as a rock, red as a tomato. His blue eyes were as wide as they could be, and it was obvious how confused he was feeling right there. You swore not to do something he did not want to, to not give in, but how couldn't you? For you, he is the sweetest, prettiest of all.

You are standing there, waiting for him to get mad, or push you away, but instead, he looks at you. His red cheeks give him an incredibly cute vibe, Lee never looked as innocent as he is now, eyes so glossy as if he is going to cry at any given moment. Both of Lee's hands hold yours, tiptoeing, he kisses you.

✂⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

🦋 I usually don't write first pov because I get confused, but I hope this was fairly decent enough and easy to read. I just wanted to make it more inclusive without using any specific pronouns this time.

🦋 if you liked it, do tell me!

#pgr #punishing gray raven #i love lee so much #pgr lee #lee hyperreal #canon divergence #oc x canon #first pov #pgr global #pgr commandant #Lee x Commandant #oc x character #sae pgr writings #I'm weak for him #Lee save me

[cxcassii]

ʚїɞ Eternally Yours ʚїɞ

reincarnation au

chapter link ෆ

Preview: “

“Hey, Mika,” I say, waiting until I have her full attention to continue. “You’re kind of really beautiful.” Her mouth falls open slightly, then snaps shut, her cheeks going scarlet. I smile. “Beat you to the car.”

As I run, I know I’m living on borrowed time. Each second that passes leads me closer to her. No matter how hard I try to resist, I am always falling towards her. It was like that two thousand years ago, and it is like that now. An invisible red thread connects us—a thread that has held up through death. We are destined to be together, regardless of the hurdles we’re sure to encounter. The thread that holds us together may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.

Our love is as endless as time.

“

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

#repost #fixed error #eremika #mikasa ackerman #eren jeagar #エレミカ #attack on titan #snk #my writing #eremika fanfic #eren pov #first pov

[julesaintshit]

Title: Horsebreaker (Book 1 of 3)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 93,757

Pairing: Luckae, past Lucdain, companion pieces include some switching but not the main fic. Book two onward involves a lot of Aebedo.

Warnings: Practically every kink under the sun is represented in this fic. Each chapter has tags in its beginning notes to indicate that chapter’s tags. Major warnings throughout include: 20 year age gap, alternate universe (fantasy, royalty), unreliable first person narration, fantasy horror elements, teacher/student

Summary: There is no horse that Cavalry Captain Diluc Ragnvindr of Mondstadt cannot break and no man he cannot forge into a deadly weapon on the battlefield. When called to the court of Khaenri'ah, he expects only to teach the willful Prince Kaeya how to ride and effectively rule a nation on the cusp of war. What he finds instead is a neglected young man in need of a firm hand, a king (and ex-lover) on his deathbed, and a whirlwind romance unlike anything he has ever known.

In the wake of a diplomatic fiasco, what begins as a simple assignment turns into a desperate bid for survival against an unseen enemy and a clash of the divine. Diluc and Kaeya must learn to master the stuff of fairy tales in order to overcome a sinister plot set into motion long ago, lest Khaenri'ah--and all of Teyvat--fall in its path.

Located here on AO3!

#luckae #diluc x kaeya #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #my work #ao3 author #alternate universe #first pov #unreliable narrator #fantasy au #prince kaeya #art by my good friend arc #the fic that will ruin the word captain for you forever

[dqrkncss666]

Through Death's eyes

"Allow me to share the moment I hold dearly in my aching heart... When I held him for the first time. A tiny figure I was afraid I could by accident hurt if I picked him up but I couldn't bear to see him cry. Claudia was exhausted, she was fast asleep, the first time she didn't wake up that night. She didn't run across the room, she didn't pick up her robe and pin up her hair. She didn't run out the bedroom door to Vincent's room to comfort him with a sweet lullaby.

And there goes me and my fear. I stood up from the bed without waking her up. Of course, I was scared... But scared? Fear? Me? A legend of a Reaper?

No, it wasn't fear, it was a warm feeling and that feeling tensed as I entered Vincent's room. As soon as I stepped foot inside I heard a soft 'Dada' from the bassinet. I hummed a song to calm me and him down; but mostly me.

He was looking up to me with those eyes, I swear he inherited them from me!

And there goes my heartbeat... Well, it would go if I had any. I looked at him and tried to pick him up... But with such nails? Should I really not call for Tanaka or someone? No Cedric... You shouldn't, you can do this...

I carefully wrapped him in the blanket and placed my palm underneath his tiny head to keep it in place. I then scooped him up and brought him close to my chest.

He was probably thinking I am an idiot an overgrown man not knowing how to pick up a baby. But was I really to blame?

My thoughts got interrupted by his little hands moving to catch my cheeks and nose.

At that moment; his warm little hands caressed my cold cheeks. Should he really be that warm? Does he have a fever? Is he sick?

No, his temperature is the same as Claudia's... I am sure he is not sick.

I rocked him gently in my arms, not too harsh not too slowly only for him to drift to sleep again. His eyelids closed after about five minutes.

I placed him back in the bassinet and covered him up with that blanket again. It didn't take me long to stare at him, I was interrupted by a soft giggle.

That giggle... Oh, how I long to hear it again... Her giggle, her teasing at my fear of hurting my son by just picking him up with long nails..." He laughed as his eyes drifted away.

"But what could you know... You are merely a corpse..."

He said as tears fell down his cheek as he placed the white sheet over the corpse of the latest victim.

#I WAS BORED #I was going for sweet #but then went like:NAH MAKE IT ANGST #kuroshitsuji #black butler #claudia phantomhive #undertaker #cloudia phantomhive #black butler undertaker #blackbutler #undertaker x claudia #vincent phantomhive #fanfiction #First POV #I LOVE MAKING ME AND YALL SUFFER #undertaker fan fic

[missdrarrydawn]

Microfic :D

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Linger' by The Cranberries.

/ CW in the tags /

He likes it. Every shudder on my bruised skin, every wince on my bloodied lips. He enjoys watching it—the tear stains on my cheeks, the imprints of his rough fingertips on my flesh—my pain. Of course, what he actually enjoys is inflicting it. His pupils dilate with sick satisfaction, they swallow the beautiful mesmerizing silver iris, when my bones crack under his fists. He bites his lip with desire naked on his sharp features when he reaches his pale hand past my ribcage that he'd cracked open with the heel of his boot and grips the pumping muscle deep within. I let him, what else would I do anyways? It feels so good when he yanks my heart out and tightens his grip until it bursts with a wet pop after all. Over and over again.

The clack of his polished shoes against the floor is loud in the silence constantly ringing around my hollow skull while he walks away when it's all said and done—there's hardly a need to linger, is there?

#cw abusive relationship #cw unhappy ending #cw toxic relationship #microfic #dark!fic #drarry #first pov #first pov harry #sad ending #microfic prompt #linger

[lulupen2023]

Bells' secret diary 2/7

Teignmouth, My house, 2nd april 1992

Hello, Diary, I'm back,

I have so much to tell you and it is true that I should go in order…

No, i can't

I'M OFFICIALLY IN A BAAAAAANNNNDD WOOAAAHHHH!!!! I couldn't wait to tell you ... write it to you .. in short, let you know!

I left you at yesterday afternoon, when against all the most adverse forecasts I managed to tidy my bedroom for real.

And when the bell rang shortly after, I had to maintain a certain composure so as not to show I was panting after running to open the door.

It was Dominic. He’s always smiling. And he brought a guitar with him.

Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough to carry him up to my room and my grandmother met him already armed with freshly baked cookies.

“You are my dear Matthew's friend, how nice to meet you!” She smiled at him, extending the plate towards him.

What a bloody debacle! I had exchanged four flipping words with him, only for his extreme courtesy he agreed to come to my house and my grandmother came out with these heavy and too classifying names.

I was one step away from going into the garden, taking the shovel and burying myself alive… but do you want to know what Dominic replied?

“Mrs. Matthew's Grandmother, time will tell. For now I consider myself just a very well received guest and very lucky to have tasted such good biscuits!”

Did I mention that boy is really adorable?

Do you think my grandmother was the greatest danger?

Well, it's because you don't know my mum, who appeared out of nowhere and looked so deeply into Dominic’s eyes as if she wanted to read his soul… and mum is psychic, she knows about this stuff.

"I am pleased to see that my son has decided to broaden his connections, he is always so alone, I always tell him that, however it’s a beautiful thing, guitar and piano cannot be his friends in the physical sense of the word!” If first I wanted to use the shovel to bury myself, after that I wanted to take it and give myself a sharp blow on the head.

Dominic looked at her almost deeper than she had done and then replied: "Mrs Bellamy, ou’re right  to be happy for that, too much solitude is not good for anyone." I mean, do you understand? He didn't walk away, embarrassed, or worse, annoyed, or worse than worst, disgusted.

At least Paul was away from home, so once the obstacles were over, we got to my room..

He said I have a nice room, and he especially liked the posters. I found out that we have a lot of musical tastes in common, but we differ a lot on others.

He has taken  his guitar, I took mine, an acoustic, like his, although I think the electric is more fun. We sat on my bed and he asked me to play him something.

Since we both like Nirvana, I chose 'Come as you are', but without singing it.

He cut me off midway, saying that the chord change was too abrupt, he showed me how it should be done.. and I have to admit that he did it much more harmoniously.

He proposed that we play it together and a beautiful synergy was immediately created, only then I anticipated a chord change, I was too frantic and ruined everything.

However, Dominic wasn’t mad at me  at all for that, he put his guitar on the floor to slide towards me, he placed his hand on mine, on the neck of the guitar and made me understand the exact moment in which the chord needs to be changed.

I didn't expect that contact, it left me a little bewildered and I don't understand why... maybe it was the irrepressible desire I have to perfect myself on the guitar.

After that we tried once more playing it together and this time the synchronicity was perfect.

He complimented me a lot and I gloated like a fool.

Before leaving, he told me he hadn't missed noticing the piano I have downstairs and wanted me to play him something.

Usually I don't do it for anyone but mum, grandma or Paul… instead I sat on the stool, I chose to play the Nocturne 1 in F sharp minor by Rachmaninov and it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world.

And this was yesterday, let's move on to today... because I anticipated it, didn't I? After the lessons, today there was the audition.

I went to the classroom we had agreed on, by then deserted, where Dominic and three other guys were waiting for me, the remaining members of Carnage Mayhem, who however looked more like someone who is doing you a favor by staying there.

But not Dominic, I had his undivided attention.

This time I chose AC/DC with my beloved electric guitar, ready to perform  'Highway to Hell', I connected it to the amplifier and I no longer thought if I was respecting the passage of the chords, if the riffs I chose were too risky, as well as totally improvised; I let myself be totally carried away by the music. And I even sang, I had fun making those screams like a possessed, hahaha.

The three guys - if they didn't bother to learn my name I don't see why I should - gave a sterile micro applause… but Dominic, ooohhh, he was literally excited, he screamed, he cheered me, yes, his hands were worn out from applauding me and then he ran towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders.

“Carnage Mayhem do indeed have a new guitarist!” He announced, super smiling. “And also a singer, I might add.” then he only said this to me, in my ear: "And after your performance yesterday afternoon at your house, which was incredible, I can certainly say a pianist, too."

I'm not used to all this attention, to seeing my talent - hell yeah, Diary, at least I don't have to be modest with you, I have an immense fucking talent and it can't remain confined to my room, much less this shit hole town. - recognized, but above all so appreciated.

And as if I didn't fill enough roles already, Dominic left me with a question that's been racking my brain: "Can you even write songs?"

Yes, come on, I think I can do it… or at least I'll try.

Ah, d’ you know he told me I can call him 'Dom'? And I told him he can call me 'Matt'… I don't know, it makes it more confidential, I like it better.

However,Dom is way, way too kind… he must be gay for sure!

#fic writer #fanfiction #fanfic #young belldom #belldomfic #belldomfanfic #young Matthew Bellamy #young Dominic Howard #personal diary #dear dairy #first pov #early days #Muse before becoming Muse #Teignmouth #friendship #slow burn #guitar lessons

[druckkugelschreiber]

If I see another bad take about first pov writing I will explode.

Especially if it’s followed by „it’s not even an x reader“ thanks you illiterate fool for proving you actually don’t know what your talking about.

X Reader is traditionally written in second person. Not first person. Starting sentences with „you“ is second person.

First person has nothing to do with it, it‘s simply a way to tells stories differently.

Hunger Games definitely isn’t an x reader.

And yes everyone can have preferences but I’ve seen some really out of pocket shit about first pov and it‘s always making me angry (and defensive). It’s what I enjoy writing and reading most and some people treat it as something lesser or bad or like it automatically means it‘s a self insert or whatever which isn’t bad btw. Self inserts are fine and not limited to a pov.

#schreiber vents #fandom critical #first pov #media literacy