#will probably be exceptionally angsty

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: I am so happy to see how much love this series has already gotten! And now part two of this angsty series is finally here! The next installment is already written and will be in Matt's POV. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee 

Curled up on your couch, having made yourself as small as possible, you’d been half-watching the series that you had playing on Netflix. Mostly you’d had it on for the background noise, not wanting to feel quite as alone as you actually were. Eyes closed, you lay there huddled under your softest blanket drifting in and out of sleep. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd picked this blanket because it had been Matt’s favorite one at your place, soft even to his senses. The pair of you had curled up on your couch underneath it together countless times in the past.

Turning and burying your face into your pillow, you fought down yet another wave of nausea at the movement and attempted to muffle the whimper that slipped out of you at the thought of Matt. It had only been just over a day since your fight with him which had ultimately ended the relationship. He’d never even reached out to you once he’d eventually returned home Thursday night after dealing with whatever had been more important than staying and talking to you. He hadn’t made a single attempt to discuss the important thing you’d told him you'd needed to talk to him about, either, clearly not finding it important enough to give it his attention. And he obviously must not have cared about how hurt you’d been that night when he'd left–which had seemed very unlike the Matt you’d initially fallen in love with. 

He didn’t reach out to you all of Friday, either. Not that it had really come as a surprise to you. Though that hadn’t stopped you from staring at your phone on and off throughout the day, willing him to call and apologize and prove that his behavior lately wasn’t really him. But your phone never rang and that only further cemented your anger at Matt. So you never made an attempt to reach out to him in return. Instead, you’d spent most of your day at work crying or trying not to puke in a bathroom stall, barely able to focus on getting anything done. 

If Matt had wanted to talk to you, he’d have reached out and talked to you. Things were over between you both now, that was incredibly apparent. Despite how hurt you were about the way things had ended, and how much you'd been crying over Matt and the breakup along with your current situation, you were also absolutely pissed at Matt, too. Pissed that he had treated you the way he had recently–and pissed at yourself for sticking around long enough thinking that wasn’t Matt. Because it clearly was with how often he’d broken promises to you, even if he’d never been quite like that in the almost year and a half you’d both been together. He’d certainly changed on you, showing you his true self which was too wrapped up in playing savior trying to protect Hell’s Kitchen.

Now it was Saturday morning and you’d woken up feeling exceptionally hormonal and nauseous. You hadn’t even been able to finish the buttered toast you’d made this morning in the hopes of settling your stomach, the taste of it so strong that you found yourself gagging until you’d tossed it in the garbage and opened a window to alleviate the smell of it in your apartment. You’d read about the heightened sense of smell for pregnant women just last night when you’d been researching early pregnancy symptoms and wondering what to expect. Immediately your first reaction was to call Matt, wanting to tell him and make a joke about having super senses just like him. But the moment you’d pulled up his contact on your phone, you’d remembered you couldn’t call him.

You’d spent this morning trying your hardest not to think about him and then inevitably sobbing into your pillow when you failed. You had already flipped it around a handful of times now, but still you couldn’t seem to find a spot to rest your head that wasn’t already soaked from your tears. It didn’t help that you were hungry–almost ravenous–but simultaneously disgusted by the thought of any and all food. You were tired, too. A level of tired you’d never felt before, and you figured your past few nights of poor sleep weren’t the only thing to attribute that to.

All you wanted to do today was sulk on your couch. You’d made an appointment for Tuesday with an obstetrician for your first visit and you’d already placed a grocery order last night–making sure you added prenatals and plenty of fresh fruit to your order. Now you just wanted to wallow in misery for a while and pray that the nausea didn’t last the entirety of the first trimester. You didn’t think you’d survive that on top of dealing with a broken heart.

But all your plans to be lonely and miserable fell right out the window the moment you heard a few knocks sound out from your apartment door behind you. Groaning, you buried your face further into the cold, damp pillow. Half of you hoped it wasn’t Matt, the other half of you wanted to smack him with one of his billy clubs.

“Who’s there?” you called out, words partially muffled by pillow.

“It’s Karen,” the familiar voice replied a little hesitantly. “I brought coffee and bagels.”

You groaned again, the few contents of your stomach swirling around uncomfortably at the thought of either of those things. And you loved coffee and bagels.

Reluctantly you pushed yourself up from the couch, pausing for a moment when you were hit with a surge of dizziness. You moaned pathetically, running a hand across your forehead as you waited it out. When the room finally stopped spinning, you fully rose to your feet before taking your time making your way over to your apartment door.

Opening it, you were greeted with the sight of Karen in casual clothes. Which meant she hadn't gone into the office this morning, though judging by the sad smile on her face as she quickly scanned you over, you knew that she'd heard about the breakup. Or at least suspected it. 

"Hey," she greeted you gently, holding up the cardboard coffee holder in one hand and the brown paper bag of bagels in the other. "I brought an offering of comfort."

"So you know?" you asked her.

Stepping to the side, you gestured her into your apartment. Karen didn't hesitate, heading straight towards your living room as you closed the door after her. Slowly you turned, trudging your way to your living room and trying your best not to look like you were going to be sick. 

“Suspected,” Karen said, glancing over her shoulder at you. “But now I feel like my suspicions have been confirmed.”

Settling down onto the couch beside Karen, you watched as she reached over towards your coffee table and pulled a coffee out of the holder. Turning towards you, she offered it to you with a warm smile. You reached out, about to accept the cup from her hand–desperate for caffeine–but when the strong aroma of caramel and espresso from the latte hit your nose, you nearly retched. Grimacing, you quickly waved a hand at the coffee, shaking your head and cringing away from it. Karen drew her hand back, sniffing the coffee with a furrow between her brows as she eyed the cup in her hand. 

"You usually get caramel lattes, right?" she asked, glancing up at you in confusion. 

"Yeah, I just–just don't feel like coffee right now," you lied.

"Okay," Karen replied slowly, setting the coffee back down on your coffee table. "So do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked, picking up her own coffee and focusing back on you. “Because Matt was…an absolute mess at the office yesterday. I mean, granted, he’s been coming in looking like shit for awhile now, but he seemed half alive yesterday. Wouldn't say why, either, but I had a feeling it involved you.” She paused, her blue eyes surveying you closely. “And judging by the fact that it looks like you've been crying, I'm guessing it does."

You sighed, gaze dropping down towards your lap. There was no point in hiding the breakup. Not from Karen. She was too perceptive and you knew one way or another she’d figure it out. Plus, it would feel good to not feel alone for just a bit.

“Yeah, we broke up,” you confessed. “Thursday night. And it was…awful.”

She gasped, the noise drawing your focus up towards her on the couch beside you. Her hand had frozen with her coffee cup just before her lips, her eyes wide in shock. A second later her cup was lowering back to her lap, her left hand darting out and grabbing yours.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “What the hell happened? I thought you two were doing so well together?”

Shrugging, you felt a lump forming in your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but stubbornly it refused to disappear. 

“We had been until a couple of months ago when things gradually began to go downhill,” you told her. “I knew about him going out as Daredevil. Obviously I had always known about that since we’d started dating. And it hadn’t been an issue because there’d always been compromise in the relationship. But over the past couple of months he’d slowly been going out more and more,” you explained, feeling the tears starting to burn at your eyes yet again this morning. “Until he was going out every single night. For a couple of weeks straight. And he kept repeatedly promising me he’d make time for me over and over, but then he kept forgetting or making excuses and going out as Daredevil instead. And it just–just got to be too much, you know?”

Karen nodded, squeezing your hand gently in hers. “So you ended things with him?” she asked. “Because he kept choosing Daredevil over you?”

You pulled a face at her question, quickly shaking your head. “What? No,” you answered. “I told him I needed to talk to him about something important and he decided that running around as Daredevil was more important than being there for me. And I practically begged him to stay in, Karen. And you know what he did?”

“Something very dumb and Matt-like?” she guessed.

“He got pissed at me like it was all my fault because I didn’t accept what he does as Daredevil!” you exclaimed, anger soon replacing your sadness. “Which is utter bullshit because I have always been supportive of him. Always there to help patch him up and clean the blood off of him at the end of his nights. Making sure he actually ate dinner and helping him remember upcoming appointments because he was always so distracted. Offering him comfort whenever he needed it after a difficult night. And I never once asked him to stop despite how much I worried about him.”

Your right hand curled into a fist in your lap, the memory of the way Matt had spoken to you the other night flooding back. Gritting your teeth together, your focus dropped down to your lap.

“I loved him–loved him even as Daredevil. But I needed him that night, Karen,” you ground out, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your rage. “And I told him that. And yet he still chose to walk out on me.”

Karen was silent beside you for a long moment, her hand tightening around yours. Raising your right hand up, you wiped away a few stray tears with the back of it. You sniffled, your body feeling a confusing mess of anger and sadness that had you wanting to scream and throw everything in your apartment but also curl up in your bed and sleep away your pain. 

“What did you need to talk to him about?” Karen asked softly.

Your hand froze mid-swipe of a tear on your cheek as her question broke the silence. Slowly your eyes slid up, landing on Karen’s knowing blue ones. It was like she already could see right through you to the answer. Yet again you realized there was no point trying to hide something from her, especially because you knew you could confide the truth in her.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered.

Karen inhaled a sharp breath at your confession, nodding her head slowly in response. Once again you tried to swallow that lump in your throat which now seemed almost permanently stuck there in the silence that followed. 

“So he doesn’t know?” she eventually asked.

You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I found out Thursday morning. Told him earlier in the day that I really needed to talk to him. But he wouldn’t stay and talk that night. He was rude and mean and then he just left. Never tried to reach out to me afterwards. So we’re just…done. And now I’m trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to raise a child alone in the city.”

Her brows shot up in surprise onto her forehead. “Alone? Why would you be raising it alone? Are you not going to tell Matt he has a child?” she questioned.

Expression shifting quickly, you shot Karen a flat look. “Come on, Karen,” you said. “Of course I’ll tell him. But let’s be real here. Matt isn’t going to want to be a father. The man barely takes care of himself. He can’t even commit to a relationship without messing up his priorities. You think he’d want the responsibilities of having a child? Because I sure as shit don’t. Not after seeing him the other night.”

“Okay, yes,” she agreed, nodding again as she reached over to set her undrank coffee onto your coffee table. “He’s definitely got his flaws. But we’re talking about Matt here. He’s got a big heart underneath all that stubborn, self-flagellating bullshit. He would never turn his back on you–” she abruptly raised a hand to cut you off the moment you’d opened your mouth to counter her comment, “ –or at the very least, his own child.”

You shook your head, running hand across your forehead. Karen meant well, you knew that, but she was wrong. She hadn’t seen him going out every single night, fixated on that stupid Russian mafia like you had for weeks now. She hadn’t seen him that night when he’d talked to you the way he had. A couple of weeks ago, you’d never have believed that was Matt, either.

“I don’t think he’d not have a relationship with his own child,” you told her slowly, “but Matthew Murdock would never want to be a father. There is nothing more important to him than this goddamn city that he thinks he has to protect. So yes,” you stated, “I’m clearly doing this on my own, Karen.”

A slow, sad smile spread over her lips at your words. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch under her stare, your gaze darted over to the unopened bag of bagels on your coffee table. Your stomach gave a hungry lurch at the smell of the cream cheese. Reaching out, you grabbed the bag and immediately began to open it.

“This is the first thing that has smelled good in days ,” you told her.

She laughed lightly, picking her coffee back up and taking a drink. You immediately pulled out one of the packages, ripping it open before tearing a large bite out of the bagel. Somehow it tasted exponentially better than you remembered bagels ever tasting before.

“Have them both,” Karen urged. “I take it you’ve been experiencing pregnancy symptoms already then?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, chewing a bite of bagel before swiftly swallowing it down. “I feel like I’m always nauseous and tired. And I’ve been getting headaches nonstop. I’m hungry but almost everything I normally eat sounds and smells absolutely disgusting lately. I couldn’t even stomach buttered toast this morning–I had to open a window just to get the smell out of the apartment.”

Karen winced beside you. “That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is,” you replied. “And I researched other symptoms common in pregnancy, and you know what? They don’t sound much better, either.”

Karen’s fingers drummed lightly on her coffee cup as she chewed her lip, eyeing you. You continued to devour the bagel in your hands, your eyes narrowing as you watched her. Eventually one of your brows raised at her in a silent question.

“I don’t know if this is a stupid question,” Karen began cautiously, “but are you…excited at all? About being pregnant? I mean, I know this clearly wasn’t planned and it's all new to you still if you only found out on Thursday but…you’re having a baby. Have you–have you processed that yet?”

Lowering the bagel down to your lap, you let Karen’s question settle in your mind. You really hadn’t given that too much thought in the few days since you’d found out you were pregnant. Admittedly you’d been too focused on initially trying to tell Matt the news. But then when that didn’t go as planned, you’d been trying to deal with the pain of a broken heart while trying to set up an appointment for an obstetrician and also trying to read up on information about early pregnancy. You really hadn’t thought too much about your feelings.

You knew for a fact you wanted this baby, though. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about that. Not that you had issues with the alternative, but you’d known the moment you’d seen those two pink lines on that pregnancy test that you were keeping it. No matter what that meant.

“I haven’t really thought about it, no,” you admitted quietly. “But I do know I want this.” 

Nervously chewing your lip, you wondered how Karen would feel about a big reason that you were so certain. Would you sound ridiculous considering how things had ended with you and Matt? Was it ridiculous? You weren’t entirely sure of the answer yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain it but…as angry as I am at Matt and as much as I’m trying to move on from him,” you slowly admitted aloud, “I know there’s–there’s always going to be feelings there for him. That some part of me will always love him. And this baby–” you continued, your left hand unconsciously landing affectionately over your abdomen as your eyes began to water, “–it's a part of him. A part of us��. Back when things were good between us. And even though this pregnancy wasn’t planned and it’s not what I would’ve initially chosen to have happen right now, I can’t help but love this child already.” Lips trembling, your gaze dropped down towards your abdomen, your hand continuing to gently rub across the top of it. “I can’t help but already love the fact that it’s both Matt and I in there. Even if I want to scream and slap the shit out of him right now for how much he hurt me.”

A few more tears slipped out of your eyes and you sniffled, turning your head and wiping the dampness on your cheeks onto the sleeve of your shirt. You felt Karen’s hand gently grasping yours again, the one you had resting over your belly. Glancing back towards her, you saw her send you a watery smile herself, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “you know you’re not alone going through all of this. I’m always here for you. And whenever you tell Fog and Marci, I know they both will be, too. I know I can’t speak for Matt, but know that you’ve always got us.”

Your heart twisted in your chest at her promise. The pain of Matt not being in the picture was a sharp contrast to the love you felt right now from your friends about this situation. A smile gradually spread across your face, tears still trailing their way warm and wet down your cheeks. Though this time not entirely from sadness, but also from gratitude that your time with Matt had at least brought you such wonderful friends. 

“Thank you, Kare,”  you croaked out, reaching across the couch and quickly wrapping her in a hug. “You don’t know how much that means to me to hear. This is…definitely scary trying to navigate alone right now.”

“Well I’ll always be here for you,” she promised again, hugging you tightly back. “ Especially when you need someone to go baby shopping with you or to help put together a baby registry for that shower you know Marci and I are going to throw you. And I’d love to help you pick out little outfits for a girl or a boy anytime.”

You laughed, touched by her enthusiasm as the tears fell a little harder. You eventually pulled away from Karen, wiping a hand across your eyes as you tried to will them to finally stop falling. You’d already spent too much time crying this morning as it was.

“I think it’s a bit longer before I know the gender,” you told her, the faint smile still on your face. “But maybe an impromptu baby shopping trip is in the cards soon. Once I get a little farther along.”

“How far are you?” she asked curiously.

Her blue eyes dropped down towards your stomach, though you knew there wasn’t a baby bump visible yet.

“Nearing six weeks,” you answered, your smile growing a little wider. “At eight weeks I’ll have the first ultrasound, which I’m honestly a little excited for because I think it’ll make this all feel even more real.” Your eyes dropped back down to your abdomen, the smile still lingering on your lips. “And that’s when I’ll get to see them for the first time. Hear their heartbeat.”

At the mention of your baby’s heartbeat, a sharp pang hit you straight in the chest. Your smile faltered instantly as a thought struck you in that very moment. 

Matt wouldn’t need one of those machines to hear their heartbeat.

Your jaw clenched tight, your hand gripping firmly around the partially finished bagel you were still holding. More thoughts suddenly began to race through your mind as you sat there on your couch, briefly forgetting Karen was even there.

How would Matt feel when he heard his own child’s heartbeat for the first time? Would it affect him at all? Enough to ever make something else more important to him than just Hell’s Kitchen?

Because after the other night, you didn’t think anything could do that.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

[moonyasnow]

Hi, there! :D

I saw that request are open so I have a VERY angst request.

Type: Headcanons (Romantic and a lot of angst)

Reader: Fem or neutral (I leave it to your liking)

Scenary: How about a prefect who loves sing and has a beautiful voice but due to a magical accident (indirectly being said boy's fault) them/she ends up losing her/they voice forever. The reader tries to appear normal but deep down she/them is depressed by the situation even if she/them will never hate said boy

with Deuce, Ace, Sebek and Jack (or other characters you want)

If my request does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you. I'm loving your TWST fics and as someone who has a lot of ideas for angst fuel (I'll probably make some angsty requests here) >:D (Spoiler I have one in mind with Ortho) (and maybe I'll make fan arts) see ya :D

Sudden Silence.

PROMPT : Their singer S/O loses their voice due in part to them

CONTENT : pre-established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, Reader loses their voice, lots of guilt and shame, self-esteem issues too bc why not, hopeful endings at least!

CHARACTERS : Ace, Deuce, Jack, Sebek

- { Crash— B O O M ! } -

An explosion resounded from the cauldron next to where you and Grim worked— the one you had seen your boyfriend and his lab-partner standing over.

Someone called your name, told you to watch out. But it was too late. The greyish-canary-yellow smoke and liquid of whatever potion they had failed to make splattered on your skin and clogged your airways from your nose and open mouth...

Your voice was never the same after that.

Ace

Ace Trappola was good at lying. Exceptionally good at lying, even. So you'd witnessed firsthand several times, including the first time you met. And those used to dealing in falsehoods will always be the most adept at spotting them in others.

…Yeah you really weren't fooling him.

You had been singing your entire life. It wasn't something you'd ever really thought much about; it was just something you did. When you were young people had said that you had music in your blood— and you wholeheartedly agreed. Whenever a song you knew came on the radio you HAD to sing it, no matter what anyone else in the car thought. You ALWAYS volunteered for karaoke whenever it was an option. Were you a bit of a diva? Maybe just a little bit— but you couldn't help it! You just loved music and singing too much to ever keep it to yourself.

Ace often teased you about your need to be in the spotlight when you sang, loving how huffy you got and how you pouted, or he said that your choice of song was lame— but he never stopped you. He did actually like it, because you singing meant you were happy, after all. But Ace's gotta Ace, and the one and only Ace Trappola couldn't just let people think he was some mushy sap who loved the sound of his lover's voice, now could he?

But still, he'd often jokingly make fun of you, daring you to sing the most embarrassing song you could think of from your homeworld, or just starting a Twisted Wonderland song whose lyrics he knew would make you red in the face from embarrassment just to watch you sing to the very last note despite it. He loved that stubborn side of yours, partly because of how much fun it was to tease you with it. You were…kinda cute when you pouted. …Ok, really cute.

The accident left you with a sore throat for weeks. Your speaking voice returned to normal, but your singing voice…just didn't. You never sang anymore. Didn't even try. He felt a little…scared, to ask you about it.

He missed hearing you sing. Not because of your singing itself, but because it'd become to him the theme music of your happiness. Not having an easy way to know if you were happy or not bothered him more than he thought it would. But what bothered him most was that you didn't even get mad at him! Sure, he was used to covering up his own sadness with a bad joke when he didn't want anyone to know he was down, but seeing you try to do the same just…just no. It felt all kinds of wrong!

You lost your voice because he decided it'd be more fun to goof off and goad his lab-partner on than pay attention to the potion they were supposed to be making, even after Crewel said to be extra cautious making that particular potion. And you didn't even yell at him. Not even a little bit! Not even a pout, or refusing to speak to him in particular for a week or more. That's what he thought he kinda deserved for what happened. That's what he wished you'd do!

Anything was better than…than this!

But he knew you, and he knew calling more attention to it would probably just make you feel even worse. So, like the sleight-of-hand master he was(not really but let him dream won't you?) he drew your attention away from it. He practically dragged you away from moping alone in your room to force you to watch him at Basketball practice, and during the dreaded music lessons he even willingly embarrassed himself by playing the violin so badly it made you burst out laughing and making fun of him when he so much as tried to screech out a single note. Then he dished it out twice as bad when it was your turn to fail at it.

You punched his shoulder. Hard. And pouted at him like you always did. It felt…good, to have something normal.

But he still couldn't shake those feelings of guilt whenever he heard you start to tap along to the rhythm of a song you had playing in your head. It just reminded him every time if the way you used to hum the melodies. He felt like such an ass every time. You'd have to talk about it some day...but for now things would stay in this forced equilibrium.

Until you felt ready.

And until that day, whenever it would be, he'd keep distracting you at all hours of the day, taking your thoughts away from it. You could say it was his way of trying to make it up to you.

…Even though he knew he'd taken too much from you for the guilt to ever really leave him.

But this wasn't about him.

Deuce

Deuce Spade, the former delinquent, aspiring honor student and— despite his best efforts— someone who acted without thinking, knew what it was like to lose your way. It could be said his entire adolescence had been a long period of him continuously losing his way. So much that it, in a sense, became his way? But not a good way. It all caught up with him and smacked him in the face when he'd heard how sad it made his mom, how much it made her worry and even blame herself.

When he got into Night Raven College, he couldn't believe his luck. It was, to him, a second chance. A place he could go where no one knew of him or his past mistakes, where he could create a new identity for himself and become someone better. That was also where he met you. And also developed a big crush on you. You seemed his polar opposite: calm, thoughtful, polite and reserved. A lot of things he wished he was more of. Yet you didn't judge him at all for that delinquent side of him that seemed to rear its ugly head whenever he got too worked up. You even appreciated it when it compelled him to try to protect you and his friends. It made him feel like that was something he really could learn to leave in the past one day…or maybe even learn to repurpose for better things. He gushed about you to his mom over the phone so much that she figured out his feelings for you faster than he himself did. And when he finally did, she was also the one to encourage him to try asking you out.

…But you also ended up inadvertently reminding him of what was so troublesome about it, why he wanted to change it in the first place.

You had always been praised for your singing voice. To the point it was your biggest point of pride— something you took good care of and refined to the exception of almost everything else in your life. Back home your shelves were lined with awards from song competitions and walls with posters for all the different concerts you'd sung in, musicals you'd participated in. 'You have a bright future with music' a teacher had once told you. Those words had engraved themselves into your heart. Not having any idea what the future might hold and how you'd get a job felt less scary when you knew you had your voice to rely on. Being transported to a new world, forced to make a new life from scratch, was difficult. But at least your voice meant you had some kind of potential future career. You could ask Vil to introduce you to someone in the industry, or work for Azul at his lounge.

But you lost it. Because of him. Because he had gotten worked up over a comment Ace made and, as Deuce went to grab his collar, had accidentally knocked over something on the table next to their cauldron, causing it to break against the edge and spill way more than the recipe required into the mixture. The

It wasn't that your singing voice had become gravelly. No. It had disappeared completely. When you opened your mouth to sing, your vocal chords moved, but pure silence followed. Not even your breath was heard.

When your singing voice 'died', all your future plans, ambitions, confidence and sense of self died with it. You had never realized before just how much your voice was a part of your identity— how large of a part of your vision of 'you' that it made up. But now, having realized that the thing which, in your mind, made you 'you' was just...gone...

You didn't know how to handle it.

You became quiet. Barely even spoke. Retreated into yourself. It made him so, so, incredibly worried. He knew it was his fault. That you didn't shake your head when he said as much, a stabbing pain to his gut, only confirmed it for him. He blamed himself. How could he not? In his mind, if only he hadn't taken Ace's words— whom he knew was always just joking and teasing, trying to get a rise out of him— so seriously and entered 'delinquent mode' again and knocked that vial over, none of this would have happened. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to call his mom for advice, like always…but this time he just couldn't. It was too personal. So he waited. He didn't know what else to do but just wait. He wanted to speak to you, too…but he didn't know what to say. So he joined you in your silence, spending as much time next to you as he could, texting rather than talking, even when you were seated right next to each other.

But the worst part was when he'd come to Ramshackle and hear you, who didn't know he was there, clear your throat, obviously to try to sing. Only to be met with silence. Even the creaking of the old wood or the tweeting of nearby birds faded to nothing when you tried. All he could think in those moments was of how badly he'd screwed up.

…Weeks later, you finally spoke again.

"It's...not coming back, is it?" He could tell it was rhetorical. He felt tears mist his eyes and the same guilt stab his heart. He tried to speak. But before he could you turned to him, face for once no longer hidden behind your hair, your eyes already beginning to overflow with tears.

'Oh' he realized. You weren't upset at him. Or at least, not anymore. He didn't know what he could ever do to make up for what happened. But maybe looking at it that way— like something he did wrong— was just making it worse. The more important thing was him being there for you, not beating himself up over something that already happened, that he couldn't change.

Neither of you said anything else; he hugged you close, and you buried your face in his shoulder and you both just cried. His crying was quiet. Yours was wailing, loud enough all of Ramshackle must have heard. But you needed it. To let out your voice in anguish; to use it one last time.

His life trajectory had changed out of guilt. Yours due to something out of your hands. Yet the result remained the same: two people who lost their way, in one way or another, who now had to pick up the pieces and grow past it. When you came back out of your self-imposed, mute isolation, you felt like a different person, the world seemed a different color. It was...scary. Like the sky and horizon had collapsed and revealed a world outside of a box you'd lived in. A world vanished to reveal another. But when you trembled, Deuce was there to take your hand, even though his was trembling just as much. It made the task seem less insurmountable.

Because now you were growing up together.

Jack

Jack Howl knew devotion to an activity well; he had a reason for his training of his body, that which he devoted himself to. And it was no different for you.

You had always filtered your life through music. Music had always been there for you; a sound to use to plug up the thoughts you didn't want to deal with, thoughts that whispered to you that bad things were going to happen. When you couldn't find the words to describe your feelings, you had always been able to find a song that got those same feelings through, and got used to expressing your thoughts through song rather than speech. You had never been very good at speaking. Your vocal chords always seemed to seize up when you even thought of trying. Your life happened entire confined within your head. But singing, you became someone else. Someone with the confidence to speak into being the things within you which had previously been confined to that space.

You didn't merely partake in the act of singing; you were song. From the tips of your lashes to your very core of your bones. While you didn't often sing in front of others, more due to feeling too awkward to start singing out of nowhere for seemingly no reason, Ramshackle was never silent so long as you were there. A second that music was not flowing either through your ears or from your lips was a second not spent living.

He had only ever seen you at your quiet moments, never even having heard your voice before. So he was shocked to see you alone up on stage at a small talent show some of the students had set up. He'd attended because Epel had been forced by Vil to take part. He was surprised, then, when you came onto the stage and began to sing with an incredible passion he never would've imagined someone as shy as you would have.

It…made his heart beat a little louder, seeing you so confidence for once, so clearly in your element. It made him start to look at you in a way he hadn't before, his tail wagging more than usual whenever he saw you. He told you once that you had the talent to make singing your profession one day, and he genuinely believed that.

Then came the accident.

You weren't even together yet when the accident happened. But as one of your closest friends, he noticed the shift in you instantly. Whenever he came to visit Ramshackle, it was dead quiet. You hadn't even put on any music in the background; his hearing was good enough that his ears would've picked up it if you did.

When the Song and Dance Competition, SDC, came to Night Raven College, his chest never stopped hurting through the whole multiple-day event. He felt so restless...he wanted to run to where you were, to comfort you somehow, and he hated that he was too busy helping to build stages and move heavy equipment or shop stands all day to be able to. His ears were laid flat against his head all day, and all through the event. He couldn't even focus on any of the performances.

After it was over, he rushed to Epel to ask where you were, only to find out you'd left as soon as you cast your vote. When he came in through the door and entered the living room where you sat on the creaking couch, you smiled and waved at him the same way you always did.

He knew how much your singing meant to you. There was no way you'd get over it that quickly, right? He knew he couldn't if he somehow became unable to train, or take care of his cacti. And when he looked closer, he saw that your brows were slightly furrowed, eyes more pink than usual at the corners. It broke his heart to think of you crying all on your own. It hurt even more to know it was because of him. But he didn't know what to do to fix it. So he went with his gut, and came closer to hug you.

…And like an idiot, he blurted out how much he liked you. He wanted to kick himself. But you signed that you liked him too, thankfully.

Then Port Fest came around. He felt guilty for you needing to hear all the music in the air and not being able to participate since you couldn't play an instrument. But he didn't want to treat you like glass; he knew you were stronger than that. So he felt caught in a state of limbo, not knowing what to do.

But...something happened which neither of you had expected.

You were put on Saxophone along with Floyd, and while you seemed apprehensive at first, when you started playing, you eventually had a blast!

Later on you ended up playing a short solo of what you'd learned for him; a 'private concert', you'd signed to him. And for a moment, he recognized that fire light up within you again. He laughed.

Not even losing your voice would stop you from pursuing music.

Sebek

Sebek Ziegvolt knew what it was like to feel inadequate, for his efforts to be called 'too much'. He once heard it said that he 'puts in a lot of effort to accomplish barely anything at all'. Yet all it did was push him to push himself even more. For how could he just let such comments stand, debasing his reputation as a knight of Malleus Draconia? It could not stand! Hence why he continued to push himself harder and harder in all he did.

It was that same mantra that lead to the accident. He and Ace had been partnered for Alchemy that day, as Professor Crewel had wished to keep Ace Trappola away from his habitual other half, Deuce Spade. As such, he was paired with Sebek for this class of Freshman Alchemy. In retrospect, Sebek would curse this decision for years to come…

Ace, not wanting to do the work himself, had goaded Sebek into doing his share of the work as well in brewing the voice-changing potion designated as that class' assignment. The attack on his pride left him trying to overcompensate and complete the assignment in half the usual time, to prove himself far more skilled at potion-making than a mere, lazy human!

But then the potion exploded. And you were caught in the crossfire.

While he hadn't admitted it, your soft singing voice had always soothed him— almost like a lullaby. Anyone who payed enough attention would have noticed his voice was always a few decibels quieter after he heard you sing. And you sang often, repeating the lyrics to some Earth song on your way to class by his side, even humming quietly to yourself as you worked. It was the gentle, ambient noise that your presence by his side brought. A sound he'd found himself growing enamoured with.

Your voice enthralled him, capturing his attention fully. Yet it was not purely due to your voice. It was the look of serenity on your face. The way the world around you seemed to stop and hold its breath each time you sang. Your voice was breathtaking, yes, but the pure passion, the sheer joy and bliss your voice carried with each note, no matter the tone or subject material of the song, that truly enraptured him.

Despite his duties, and claiming he only did so on request of Lilia for him to 'get cultured', he never missed any of your shows at the Mostro Lounge. He said it almost seemed disrespectful for the Lounge's business to go up so much whenever you sang on its stage, not realizing the feelings of bitterness in his chest were not at you being disrespected, but jealousy at so many others recognizing your charm. Deep within him— past the already buried desire to want to be by your side, not as a friend, but a lover— he doubted that you would ever look upon him as he did you: with pure adoration.

Yet he was proved wrong. After a show, he had shown up with a small bouquet of flowers— hand-picked, he had made sure to emphasize— to congratulate you for a good performance. He recalls telling you that the performance was…lovely…s-so much so that— while he of course would never speak on his Lord's behalf!— he believed his Young Master might even enjoy it, were he to attend one of your concerts. His face had become redder by the second of him speaking, too caught up in his rambling speech to notice you coming close, until you had cupped his cheeks and silenced him with a kiss. He'd dropped the flowers on the floor.

So then…

When the accident, a failure of his own creation, had robbed you of that joy of yours, he felt so incredibly guilty, and ashamed! You, his beloved, had lost the one thing you loved so much, all due to his mistake. The sheer weight of that guilt, of having cost you your greatest passion in life, threatened to drag him under.

So instead of stewing in those feelings, he acted.

He tried to search through the library top to bottom, asked both Lilia and Crewel for advice on how he might possibly reverse the effects. He even got desperate enough to seed aid from his Young Master. He trembled as he did— what right did he, a mere knight…no, not even a proper knight yet, have to beg a boon from his Lord Malleus? But since it was for you, to restore that smile to your face once more, he felt compelled to.

He cried as he made his request for aid in his search of a cure, overwhelmed with his conflicting interests of wishing to help his beloved and of wishing not to burden his Lord. His cheeks reddened in shame, thick tears rolling over his cheeks, when Malleus agreed to try to help you.

You tried to tell him that him going so far out of his way to find a cure to your predicament wasn't necessary, but no matter how you explained that there are worse things, he refused to budge. It was a matter of pride now, too. He would prove to you that he had the ability to right this wrong; that he was a worthy partner to you, that he could restore to you the thing you lost. Not out of a desire for praise or gratitude this time, but because he knew he alone had to take responsibility for the accident.

The way you shone when you sang, the pure bliss the act seemed to spark in you…he couldn't live with himself if it meant he'd taken that away from you forever.

And you knew how he felt. You knew how important it was to him to be able to be of help to you in what he, not incorrectly, considered your time of need. Losing your voice was…indescribably painful. As though a flame in your soul had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Yet you had tried to act as though it didn't truly bother you as much as it did. You still had other avenues of music you could pursue, after all, such as learning to play an instrument…

Yet, though you doubted it was that he saw through that ruse of yours rather than that he felt compelled to right what he saw as a wrong he had committed, the dedication to restore your singing voice…it made you able to cling onto a shred of hope that you might see it returned one day. It reminded you once more of why you fell for him in the first place.

But above all else…he just longed to see the smile you always wore when singing, the smile that without fail made his heart skip a beat, grace your face once more.

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

Writing this got me genuinely emotional— my singing is actually one of the things I'm the most proud of in myself and I love singing so much— imagining this scenario happening to myself made me so sad ; ; But in a good way!

Some didn't turn out as angsty as the prompt described: I can do angst just fine, but if there's not a happy ending, or at least the potential of things becoming better in the future, I just start crying too much

Also didn't keep the 'tries to appear normal' part for all of them since it seems like I'm just incapable of writing the exact same Reader for every single character for a scenario haha ;^^ I think more 'what would be the most interesting way to spin this scenario and how does the Reader need to react to make it so' And I decided to go with a gender neutral Reader just to make it more inclusive to everyone

Sorry for Jack's part being a bit rushed in places— I'm kinda worn out from the school year haha My perfectionism keeps telling me it's not good enough for my standards because I know I could do better if I just had more energy, but that just how it be sometimes; better I learn to take the L than never finish this, at least!

But I really hope you like what I did with the prompt!

Also a head's up that, since June is gonna be really busy for me, I'm probably not gonna be able to write much at all until at least the start of July; hence why I've closed writing requests until then.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace twst #ace twisted wonderland #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade #deuce twst #twisted wonderland deuce #deuce x reader #jack howl #twst jack #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #Moony's Writing

[i-cant-sing]

Maybe a dancer reader with your ocs, like they want to still be on stage and fight about it with your oc because they sacrificed a lot to get there and don’t want to waste it. Like how would they react would they let the darling dance on stage with limited audience or?

Hmm, here's how I think it'll go:

Eros:

He wouldnt ever stop you from enjoying life, and he loves watching you dance. Its so graceful, the way your body moves, the emotions youre expressing, its all- so impressive. Eros 100% ditches his duty at the hospital, dresses up super nice to go to the theatre where you're performing, and of course he has the best seat near the stage so you could see your no.1 hype man cheering you on. He is so proudly telling anyone and everyone that "thats my girl!" "I'm dating her! Gosh, I'm lucked out!"

Dimitri:

Probably has a theatre/stage built in his mansion for you to perform in, and the audience will be him and his men. They're all there to clap and cheer you on, but in a very careful way so as to not make Dimitri think they're attracted to you, just admiring your dance.

Its kinda weird watching all these buffed up, tattooed criminals getting front seat to your little hobby and they're all looking at you in complete awe, giving you 7 minute standing ovation, hooting as their boss gets on stage and spins you in his arms before dipping you as he gives you a passionate kiss. Ah yes, Dimitri is also a skilled dancer, though you'll now have to waltz with him for the world.

Magnus:

Guess who brings the entire cult to the show? Its crazy lover boy Magnus! You didnt want to dance, but Magnus knew about your secret hobby and he insisted that you dance for him. You turned him down, of course because you hate him, but then a little threat from the cult to pull your intestines out to hang dry, you were all game <3

At the end of your dance, he's on his knees, along with his cult, and is praising the Lord for giving him such a perfect partner.

Theodore:

You're probably still in the dark about Theo being a spy/assassin, so you dont know that the reason the entire theatre is empty except for him is because Theo used his spy agency to book out the theatre completely for "mission purposes", and you just think that nobody else showed up :( You also dont know that Theo has some guys stationed outside the theatre to knock out/shoot anyone who tries to come in.

But hey, at least your deaf bf is all supportive as he claps and gives you nods of approval at the end of your performance, as well as a big bouquet and teddy bear.

Halim Mehmat Shah:

My man, my himbo bf, he brings his entire family and his bestie Mahir to the show because um of course, this will also be your family soon when you two get married (you're not even dating him atm) so why wouldnt they come to support you????

He's cheering, he's clapping, his family has these proud beaming smiles and they all join you backstage to tell you how amazing you are and you just feel a little weird at how Halim's family, especially his parents are looking at you with such pride- your own family has never looked at you so fondly. Of course, the parents made you take pictures with Halim (and Mahir was also dragged into these photos because he's their angsty adoptive son lol).

Later, you find out that almost all the people who attended the show were connected to the Shah family somehow, and they bought tickets for everyone.

Mahir Jahangir:

He'll look up from his pile of papers, silent as you whine about wanting to dance at the theatre downtown. Mahir knows that you're an exceptionally good dancer, but he doesnt know how to explain to you that he'd much rather burn the world to the ground than let any man look at you like that.

And since he doesnt wanna sound like an insane, jealous s/o, he agrees, giving you a nod to go ahead before picking up his phone to tell his secretary to cater to your requests.

When the day of the show comes, the curtains open and all you see is Mahir and his mom sitting in the front row. They're the only audience, and Mahir's mom is ever so cheerful throughout your performance while Mahir has a soft smile, pride and awe shining in his eyes. Of course, only at the end of the show does Mahir finally clap, giving you a standing ovation as he does so. All his moves, his claps, his praise, they're all calculated, no filler words or actions that dont hold significance are used.

His mother is going on and on about how much she enjoyed the performance, while Mahir is silently waiting for his moment to tell you that he just bought the theatre and is gifting it to you <3

Baldwin:

No.1 cheerleader, has the ballroom booked for you. You'd think he'd have the ballroom empty so that he could get a private show, but no. He has his court in there, praising and clapping at how well you dance, except they're all wearing blindfolds because again- Baldwin doesnt want them to see how well his "angel" dances.

"We can feel how well you dance, your Majesty!" They say to you, but you know by now that they're all just crazy.

What you dont expect is Baldwin to get up and join you mid performance, pulling you close by the waist as he leads your body, waltzing through the entire ballroom with such finesse.

#yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere concept #yandere drabbles #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere baldwin #yandere theodore #yandere dimitri #yandere magnus #yandere eros #yandere mahir #yandere halim #king baldwin x reader #baldwin iv

[citrusses]

January: 2023 Wrapped 🎁🍊

*some* of my favorite 2023 fics, by month they were published (or started to publish, or finished publishing, it's arbitrary bc i make the rules), plus some thoughts on what made these fics so special.

January | February | March | April, May, June | July | August | September | October | November | December

Chicken Shop Date by @sorrybutblog (T, 2K)

Draco and Harry sit down for an interview. Or is it a date?

This is such a fun premise and the Harry/Draco banter just sizzles. The atmosphere is so rich! 2K words of perfection that pack an outsized punch.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134K)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

A masterpiece that deconstructs every relationship in the HP universe and then rebuilds it, that does mind-boggling things with narrative structure, that stressed me out so badly I felt physically ill, that was so moving it left me bursting into tears for days after I read it, that had the funniest single line I've read in a fic maybe ever. So far reading this is the only time I've ever checked the tags on a fic for "happy ending" because I was so emotionally overwhelmed by it that I needed to know it would be ok in the end. I can't overstate how much I love this one.

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed (E, 8K)

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

A gorgeous, painful story that explores a kind of Harry/Draco dynamic that's not seen as often in fics (a SAD one), but is done exceptionally well here. It hurts so good!

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58K)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

@the-sinking-ship regularly writes: my favorite kind of Draco, my favorite kind of romance/getting together AND my favorite kind of smut. This fic is all of those things.

Polar Night/Midnight Sun by toomuchplor (E, 54K)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

The hottest fic in the coldest setting, this one made me absolutely FERAL. The most evocative scenery, incredible characterization, and the perfect pacing building to an explosively sexy and tender relationship. Also I would read like, 100K more words on just the mittens and jumpers and scarves of this fic, which are not items of clothing I have cared much about in the past. It's just that every detail, down to the smallest, is incredible!

When It Returns by @academicdisasterfic (M, 8K)

‘You’re late, layabout,’ Malfoy drawled, pushing the whiskey over to him. ‘I’ll have you know that I am very busy maintaining a whole house and garden by myself now.’ ‘Oooh, the dead husband card. Before any alcohol. Is that a record?’ Harry's husband is dead, and Malfoy is the only one who gets it. Or, the one where they drink at a straight man pub, renovate a house, and learn how to find joy again.

January was a good month for feeling bad. It's another angsty one! This one is full of beautiful healing in the face of a loss that feels very real, Draco annoying Harry out of his grief spiral (but in a loving way?) and Harry being on the right side of almost too stubborn for it to work. I have read and reread this many times already!

#citrus recs #2023 recs #drarry fic recs #I’m sure I’m going to miss TONS #so I’m sorry in advance #there are too many great fics in this fandom what a fantastic problem to have

[bleaksqueak]

I wonder what the opening and ending for a Solivaga anime would be. Probably surreal and creepy. Secret spoilers? Willow jumpscares? Angsty??? Very likely all of those.

Oh my god, Okay. We joked a while ago now that the Prologue looked already a lot like an opening lol but if we want to go full opening vibes, here's some of my favorite oldies that match the vibe I'd def. go with:

Slayers TRY, breeze, is always a great mood. I"d first and foremost go with Kagirinai Yokubou no Naka Ni, but youtube either deleted the ending anim due to a copyright claim or the uploader took it down. The song is great tho and has a perfect vibe:

I'm sad that the actual ending was taken down, the visuals that go with it are so (mwah)

and the first one that popped into my mind when I got this ask was the opening to Miyu OVA. sadly I can't find a version of it that's not a potato and not tied to the actual episode, but here it is.

Shamanic Princess is the other that popped into my mind immediately. and ofc

The anime may be crap compared to my beloved manga, but I will love this opening until the day I die. I love the unique song, I love the visuals, I love the mood, I love the incidental scenes. Ofc anything that has the sort of Yuki kajiura sound would also fit exceptionally well.

And if we're just going by music, Lilium is a beautiful opening song with great vibes as well, but I'm not really into the show it's from. HAve kept that opening on my playlist forever tho. Shamanic Princess is so near perfect for a vibe because it seems all colorful and happy, but if you've ever seen that anime... hahaha.

#soli asks #some of my all time favorites #honestly most of the slayers ones are Big Favorite but don't fit the mood for soli as well #since let's be real GET ALONG and GIVE A REASON are two of the best anime openings of all time #I love unfinished concerto tho #it's so utterly unique... an opera for an opening. just beautiful #solivaga #me realizng the other day that Maia's silhouette is so very close to Lina's and i'm over here like HAHAHAHA well .. I know what I love #slayers and voh are goign to bleed thru as inspiration no matter what I do

[jackyjango]

What are some of your angsty Charles Xaiver headcanons? I love your writing so much!

Hello, Anon! You like my writing you say!!? EEKS! Thank you so so much. 

And as for my angsty Charles Xavier headcanons, oh boy, where do I start? I’m not sure if these are headcanons, or just canons, or something else entirely, but here goes some of them, nonetheless (And this doesn’t stick to much of canon… It doesn’t stick to much of anything really) So, bear with me, for I got carried away.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital are annoyingly kind. Charles hates it. Because behind all their smiles and assurances, and ‘You’re healing exceptionally well from the surgery Mr.Xavier’s, is sheer pity. Days pass in a hospital bed, and so do more faces behind tags. ‘There’s still hope, Dr.Xavier,’ some one says, ‘The feeling in your legs can return over time. Things will get better, you’ll see.’ Hope? Charles laughs bitterly. And how can things get better? Erik isn’t there.

Out of everything, it’s probably the loneliness that drives him insane, the absence of Erik’s bright mind beside his. So Charles drinks. He drinks to make the rest of his body as numb as his legs. Especially his aching heart.

Anger and violence doesn’t come easily to Charles, but he’s angry now. Angry at Erik. He could have, and for the most part has, forgiven Erik for everything - for his legs, for hurting the children. But he cannot forgive Erik for leaving him alone.

The school is thriving. The Children and Raven are there, yes. But it’s not the same. It never has been.

A man named Logan breezes into the school one summer morning biting on the end of a cigar. They call him the ‘Wolverine’. He’s burly as a beast and has the claws like one. And when he asks Charles, ‘Wanna fuck bub?’ from the end of a kitchen table, Charles agrees readily. Whether to prove something to himself, or something else to Erik, or just to feel like his younger self once again, Charles doesn’t know.

Logan doesn’t tease Charles with his clever words, doesn’t gather Charles against his chest like he’s something precious, doesn’t kiss Charles like a man possessed. He doesn’t make love to Charles like Erik. He just fucks like a beast, and Charles is extremely thankful for it. 

Logan leaves as quickly as he’d arrived, promising to bring a few mutants who could benefit from the school. 

There’s only so much Charles can hide in his study drowning himself in expensive scotch. His children need him. Slowly, he eases back into his role of a Professor, and with it, some of the anger and bitterness abates. 

Logan returns a few months later with a girl with healing abilities. With the help of her powers, Charles gets back most of the feelings in his legs. He still has to use his wheelchair for the most part, and his entire body hurts, but Raven cries in delight and says, ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ Is it? Charles can’t say. Even with the feeling in legs, Charles feels just as numb as before.

When Logan asks Charles a few nights later if he’d like a repeat of last time, Charles smiles woefully and says, ‘Good night, Logan.’

Probably the only good thing to come out of this entire ordeal is Charles’ new found understanding of his mother. She drank herself to a stupor in denial of his father’s demise, ignoring Charles in the process. How was Charles any better than her?

Charles wakes one night to the sight of Erik floating into his room through the window. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s a dream. But when Erik starts accusing him of naivety on an article Charles had published about Mutant Education a few days ago, it becomes all too real. He punches Erik in the face like he’d wanted to all those days ago. He stumbles from bed, and his legs ache, but he doesn’t care. They argue, spew insults at each other, and almost tear each other out for two hours straight before falling into bed.

‘Wait,’ Charles says, stopping Erik’s frantic hands. ‘I slept with Logan.’ He feels stupid now that he has said it. He and Erik haven’t defined their relationship in any way. Still, keeping it from Erik feels wrong. ‘And I slept with Emma.’ Erik says. And that’s that, Charles supposes. Erik leaves the next day before the sun or Charles is up.

He doesn’t hear from Erik for 4 months after that. Erik comes in one night sans accusations and assertions, and sans that damned helmet, and whispers fiercely into Charles’ mind, I’m sorry, for … everything. It’s all too easy to fall into bed with Erik then. After all, It’s one of the only things they agree upon whole heartedly.

In the winter, they hire a new teacher for the school. Abigaile has a PhD in Mathematics and Physics, and comes highly recommended. She has lovely eyes and a bright smile, and bats her eyelashes coyly at Charles. The intent in her mind is unmistakable. Charles smiles at her kindly, and calls in for Hank. ‘Please show Ms. Brand to the classes. ’There really can’t be anything between them. How can there be? She doesn’t have large and callused hands like Erik’s. She doesn’t have a sculpted jaw or broad shoulders like Erik. She doesn’t possess a baritone voice that wreaks havocs on Charles’ body. Hell, Charles wouldn’t even fit perfectly against her like he does with Erik. Charles curses under his breath and closes his eyes. ‘You’ve ruined me for women, you Bastard.’

Charles gets a call on the phone in his study at 2 in the morning. The person on the other end is silent, but he knows without a shred of doubt in his mind that it’s Erik. Charles takes in an unsteady breath and says, ‘Please tell me you’re okay, Erik. Please…’ Erik grunts in response and the line goes dead.

To say that Charles misses Erik is an understatement. He misses arguing with Erik. He misses training the children with Erik. He misses their late night chess games, Erik’s teasing smiles and knowing looks. He misses the fire of passion smoldering in Erik’s eyes when he look at Chearles. Hell, he even misses Erik’s smoking. Sometimes, he misses Erik so much that it manifests into a physical pain somewhere between Charles’ heart and stomach. It doesn’t lessen over years, only dwindles into absence for a few hours he’s with Erik, and flares stronger than before once Erik leaves.

When Charles is feeling maudlin beyond reason, which he is for most of the week, he writes to Erik, knowing full well that it’s a moot cause. 

Dearest Erik, I feel like a Regency heroine writing to you….  ……. ……. Bobby froze the pond on the grounds today. Can you believe it? I’m so proud of him, Erik. The poor lad hes been struggling with his control…. ……. ……. I wish you could see it too. Yours Faithfully, Charles

My dear Erik, Ororo threw a fuss today. So much so that it started to rain over the mansion for a few minutes….. ……. ……. Wish you were here with me. Yours truly, Charles

Old Friend, The children threw a small party for my birthday today. Raven baked a caked. And no, it wasn’t as awful as the one she had baked for Alex’s birthday, but it was threateningly close….. ……. ……. Not a day goes by without me wishing you were beside me. Love Aways, Charles

My Love, There was an post in the paper today that a Mutant Experiment lab was destroyed in the East Coast. It reports that the damage was extensive and that the authorities are searching for the cultrip. You know that I don’t agree with your methods, Erik. But I admire your intent. So would all the mutants you saved from that lab. While I know fully well that you can take care of yourself, and your own, I can’t help but worry for your safety, my love. I worry about you constantly. There are more and more scars on your body each time I see you, and how I wish I could kiss it away. Are you eating on time? Do you sleep at all? Please take care, Erik. Yours Forever, Charles

The letters sit tucked chronologically in a box under Charles’ bed, and some of them are still wet at the corners.

Once night, Erik floats into his window with cuts on his face and blood on his uniform. Charles cleans his wounds with blurry eyes, and vows to tear the next person person who accuses Erik of being selfish.

Despite his promises of not looking into Erik’s head, Charles traces Erik’s activities through Cerebro, and refuses to feel one bit guilty about it. It's the only way he'll know Erik is safe. Sure, Erik’s damned helmet makes it all the more difficult, but through the years, Charles has gotten creative. He can pinpoint Erik in a crowd of people even across two states.

‘You should date someone,’ Erik says one night as he sits on the edge of Charles' bed dressed to leave. 

‘Really?’ Charles asks, ‘And why should I do that?’ ‘Because I want you to be happy,’ Erik says, and Charles wants to punch him. How dare he!? How dare Erik tell him to date someone else when he holds Charles’ beating heart in his fist. It’s cruel.  ‘And what makes you the authority on my happiness?’ Charles asks with no less cruelty. Erik doesn’t deign his question with an answer and leaves.

Gone, too, is the box under Charle’s bed that hold the map of his heart.

Erik goes missing for eight months this time, and Charles all but leaps out of bed when the phone in his study rings at 3 in the morning.

‘Erik, please don’t hang up,’ he pleads, and when Erik stays silent, ‘Please say something.’ ‘There’s nothing to say. I just wanted to hear your voice,’ says Erik. Charles knees give away and hot tears fall out of his eyes. But he can do this, he can keep talking. Anything to keep Erik with him. He wipes at his eyes and smiles into the receiver. ‘Do you remember Jubile? The tiny girl with two braids? You won’t believe what she can do, Erik…’ Charles talks into the night and doesn’t stop even when his voice turns horse. And even after that they simply listen to each other’s breaths.

Charles keeps a set of Erik’s clothes in his wardrobe. Over the years, the turtlenecks smell less and less like Erik, but when Charles drapes it over his pillow, and imagines that it’s Erik chest under his ear, he can still smell the sharp scent of Erik’s musk, spicy and clean and fresh.

He also keeps Erik’s favourite bottle of scotch and his preferred brand of cigarettes in a cabinet in his office, and guards it like a dragon guards its gold.

For all that Charles loathes smoking, and has banned it on the grounds, Erik seemed to be the exception to that rule. Hell, Erik has been the exception to all of Charles’ rules.

They hire Jonthan in the fall to teach Mutant History. He’s a tall man with blue eyes and auburn hair. He looks at Charles with a knowing smile and intent in his mind. He would be good for Charles, wouldn’t he? He’s smart, well read and kind. He even holds the same integrationist ideals that Charles does. But... Jonathan doesn’t have Erik’s razor sharp smile, the kind of smile that lights up Charles’ insides and heart. He doesn’t possess the wicked wit that comes so easily to Erik. He doesn’t bear the piercing focus, which when focussed on Charles makes him feel invincible. Jonathan doesn’t even smoke. Charles laughs in exasperation. ‘Good God, Erik! Must you torment me so?’

It’s almost a year later that Charles sees Erik. They fall into each other’s arms way too easily. 

‘Don’t tease me, Erik,’ Charles commands when Erik’s mouth meets the lobe of his ear, ‘I won’t last long.’ ‘Me, too,’ says Erik. ‘That means we’ll just have to go again.’ ‘And whose fault is that? You were gone for more than a year.’ At that, Erik stops, ‘Does that mean that you haven’t…’ he gestures between the two of them. Charles laughs woefully. ‘There hasn’t been anyone other than you ever since you came floating into my room all those years ago.’ ‘Oh,’ Erik says, surprised, ‘There hasn’t been anyone for me beside you, either.’ Charles laughs wetly for a long time. ‘I thought I was alone,’ he says softly. Erik kisses him, and whispers to his lips, ‘You’re not alone, Charles. Not when you I have something to say about it.’

And it sounds equal parts like a promise and a challenge. It sounds just like Erik.

Charles remembers reading somewhere, Like because, and love despite. However impossible, maybe the author had Charles and Erik in mind when they wrote it.

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #anon #thank you so much for your lovely message. It made my day #and if you've made it this far #wow #thanks #also the quote at the end id from 'Half of It' on Netflix #I heard and thought... well it's for cherik #so there you go #jjcherik

[afiniteredwood]

Self-indulgent angsty fanfiction for @hybbart 's Ranchers Apocalypse AU :) I haven't stopped thinking about these guys for a solid month. The number of things I had to change after the first draft because I read the Notes Posts is incredible so don't hesitate to mention if I messed up the details somewhere

(Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron)

Day 543

Sleeping next to Jimmy objectively sucks.

Don't get Tango wrong- Jimmy is wonderful, a sleepy hugger and a furnace of a man, and Tango is never cold during the winter months. And, mostly, he doesn't have nightmares and doesn't talk in his sleep and Tango knows that he does that. Really, Jimmy has it worse. 

But Jimmy is also all ruffled feathers and whimpered noises brought on by elbowed and healing wounds, and the click-fssssssss of the breathing machine, only worsened after his recent battle with pneumonia. It becomes hard to breathe next to him, the farm dust once trapped in Jimmy’s wings clouding into the air whenever he rolls and the regular rumbling of the machine instilling preemptive terror in Tango’s stomach.

Still, on most nights, it is entirely bearable. Tango sleeps. On the days when he does sleep, he sleeps like the still-dead, and on the days where he doesn’t it’s because of the nightmares or the fact he has pointedly not taken his metal arm off, not because of Jimmy.

He always dreams of blood on his hands, spilling in rivulets down his clammy skin. Not what has happened to them, not what could happen, just blood. It’s probably Jimmy’s. 

So when, two hours after he had bade ‘Goodnight’ to the bedroom already full of the sound of Jimmy’s even breathing, he gets up and sneaks out again, it is an unusual thing. Revy notices his loss, curled up at the end of the bed, raising his head once and whining. Tango shuts the door softly on him. Revy returns his head to Jimmy’s thigh.

Yellow eyes open in the muted dark.

Tango’s sneaking isn’t particularly effective. (It terrifies him a little, how easy it would be for one of the undead to kill him now.) He’s so tired he feels like he could pass out at any second, and really, the creaking of the farmhouse with every gentle gust of wind is more than Tango will ever be able to unsubtly make. 

He makes it to the bottom floor, following the moonlight marking a square of light up the stairs from the glass patio doors to his feet. Spring is still only a dream, so the floor is cold beneath him, and he stands on tip-toes to stumble towards the doors. Something wants him out there- something about being one with nature, of just being able to sit and breathe and relax for a blissfully freezing moment. 

Opening the door is difficult with fingers numb from cold on one hand and metal fingers clicking ineffectively over the lock on the other, but he manages. Shit, but it takes him ages though, trying awkwardly to turn the key in the lock with his flesh-and-blood hand and using his other hand crossed over to turn the handle even though the angle hurts. It’s fine. He’s capable of doing whatever needs doing. 

He continues unsteadily outwards, dropping down to sit on the edge of the patio when he reaches it, legs dangling in the empty space below him. The forest is spread out in front of him, the house backing directly onto the wildlife that before-the-apocalypse had never allowed him. Quiet. If the apocalypse has done anything good, it has brought silence. It’s too early in the morning yet for birds, but there is wind through the trees and the sleepy mooing of distant cows and the even more distant, barely audible and mostly harmonious groans of the undead. 

He hooks one leg back up onto the patio and hugs it against his chest, resting his chin on his knee. 

It should be colder than this, really, but it is an exceptionally early spring this year. Already the ground is beginning to thaw during the day and the old seeds in the tool shed have started to smell damp and earthy again. At night and this early in the morning, it is still bitterly cold, but it's not quite as cold as it should be- not quite.

Tango exhales and his breath crystalizes in the air in front of his face. He shivers in his t-shirt and hugs his knee tighter and thinks of Jimmy. 

Jimmy stands at the top of the stairs and wonders what he must have done in a past life to deserve Tango. Something great, surely- he must have been a hero.

There is a certain sharp beauty to the way that Tango is outlined against the darkness with his blue fire and sparks that makes Jimmy think of gods he doesn’t believe in. He’s just sitting there, shivering and exhaling stars, and he looks so entirely ethereal doing it. Totally silent, just the regular hum of his breathing that Jimmy can only see from this distance, beautifully poised, like a beast that Jimmy could startle into bolting at any moment. 

But he carries the same inherent fear in him as wild animals do, and Jimmy frowns. Tango is never usually scared- not how he is now, hunched in on himself with one hand gripping the deck in the way that only Jimmy can see the tension in. He is only ever on edge, only ever afraid for someone else, only ever worried when there is genuine danger on the horizon. 

Jimmy takes a step closer, down the stairs, grimacing at the noise it makes. Tango does nothing, so he shakes his wings gently and cracks his knuckles and breathes louder through his mouth than he usually does in an attempt to not scare Tango out of his skin when he makes his presence known. Nothing.

He abandons any subtlety and follows Tango’s elongated shadow to the open doors, quiet regardless of how much he tries not to be. The doorframe is cold underneath his fingertips. 

Tango might be crying- he’s not sure. Noise outlines him in gold and cyan and it ripples with every breath, peaking at weird times that could be from tears or could just be the wind around the collar of his shirt. Jimmy’s almost too scared to ask- does he really want to know why Tango is crying? Why he’s scared? Why he’s hanging onto the back porch of the house Jimmy found for them like he’s fighting the urge to slip down and run away forever?

Yes, Jimmy decides. Yes, he does want to know. 

“Tango?” that voice says from the doorway, soft as anything. “Are you working on something?”

Tango does his absolute best not to jump, but he’s pretty sure that Jimmy notices anyway. He shakes his head to dissolve the tension in his frozen muscles, turning only slightly to look at Jimmy’s shadow’s head. He wipes his tears on the back of his hand entirely unsubtly. 

“No,” he admits, an invitation bare and raw in his voice. “Not really.”

Jimmy’s exhale casts a faint shadow next to his face in his image on the deck, pluming outwards from where his mouth must be. Jimmy has always had a fun shadow, Tango notices absently- deformed up around his shoulders where he isn’t really, his wings held awkwardly up against the cold. It really does make Jimmy look strange, like some kind of monster, shifting and growing- Jimmy drops down beside him, leaning defiantly back on the heels of his hands and looking up at the sky. 

Tango swallows his heart and looks at the ground, where he’s sure he won’t see Jimmy’s face. Whatever, Jimmy has a face like a deity incarnated into the body of someone who has known what love is, whatever. There are plenty of those around, plenty of people who make him want to hide himself away because all his fire and grace pale in comparison to the solid humanity of the man next to him. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jimmy asks, before the silence swallows them both. 

“Nothing,” Tango says, his eyes on the ground, the tone of his voice meaning ‘Ask me again and I’ll tell you about how I don’t think I ever made my mother proud, and how she’s probably dead now so I’ll never get to know whether I did. Ask that question again and I’ll tell you how there is so little left of her in the world, and how little there was of her when we lived together, and how there was so much more I could’ve done for her that I never did and will never get to do. Ask me again and I’ll tell you that I regret every decision I’ve made since the end of the world, even in and with you and guided by your hand.’

A gust of wind through the trees and a bird coos softly into the open air. 

“Tell me,” Jimmy says anyway, face half-turned to catch the sharp moonlight and to try to meet Tango’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

The dog comes pattering out from the house behind them, having followed a few minutes after Jimmy. He shakes himself all over and grunts, then settles down between the two of them and noses at Tango’s hand until Tango gives in and pets him. 

“Big man,” Tango says, smiling, avoiding the question. “Big shake- oh he wants some scritchies, does he?”

Jimmy frowns at him, but pets Revy too all the same. 

“Tango.”

Tango sighs and cannot bring himself to look at Jimmy. Instead, he finds himself looking outwards, at the forest from which one of the undead stragglers could emerge at any time and they would never be prepared in time to defend themselves. 

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re running on borrowed time?” he asks the forest, voice quiet and careful. 

Jimmy says, “No!” and laughs with such ferocity that it startles Tango into looking at him. Revy leaps up at the sound and jumps and dances around them, barking in the ‘play with me!’ manner that all dogs do when the air around them is happy. 

Shit- Tango remembers why he had known it would be a bad idea from the beginning to look. 

With his head thrown back and hair tangled around his ears, moonlight catching on his throat and on the fragments of glass and sand still in his wings, Jimmy looks every bit the picture of brilliance. Whatever god has possessed him has made him beautiful, has made the night split about him and the sun spill from his eyes when he opens them to look back at Tango. 

Tango’s not sure what face he’s making. Something just short of shock, no doubt- genuine affection blooming in his chest and sneaking onto his face along with this new sort of amazement. He feels himself smile and Jimmy's genuine happiness is so damn contagious that he can't help it even if he doesn't mean the emotion behind the smile. It’s just such a strange reaction, and so much more so from someone like Jimmy-

“Why are you laughing?” he still has to ask, even as Jimmy is still giggling into his hands. “Jimmy?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimmy amends, tears in his eyes. “I just- you feel that way?”

Tango has to look back into the distance. Yes. 

“Yeah.”

Jimmy has no joy in him anymore. 

“Oh- I- sorry.” He swallows and returns his hands to the dog, who has fallen back onto the deck with her belly in the air. “Tell me. What do you mean?”

Tango sighs. This was meant to be an emotion dealt with alone.

“You know,” he starts, before realizing how clearly Jimmy does not know. “I mean- we’re still just running from the end of the world. We’re never really going to be safe, are we? We’re always going to be living like this.”

Jimmy tries and fails to not take that comment to heart. Like this- like what? Trapped oh-so-cruelly in the house he had chosen for them, bound by the land nourished by their own hands and the burden of the animals they have given hope to with their presence? Oh, what a truly horrible fate it is, to have to live with one’s friends and family in the countryside. 

“You don’t…” Jimmy casts around for words that won’t come out sour and hurtful. “You don’t want to live like this?”

Something in his tone catches Tango’s attention (maybe it’s the betrayal squirming just beneath his skin) and he looks up. 

“I don’t want to live during an apocalypse, Jimmy. I don’t want to be in danger. I don't like being scared all the time.” 

Oh. Understandable, but-

“We’re not in danger now, are we?” 

Tango frowns at him. “That’s not the point-”

“No, but….” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’re running out of time.” That’s not what I said. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, Tango- a farm and a family and a dog and freedom and, you know, what we have.”

“No- not that we’re running out of time.” Something grips Tango and he wants to say things that he’ll regret. “We’re running on borrowed time. It’s going to catch up to us eventually.”

Jimmy laughs. “Same thing, really.”

Tango shakes his head but it doesn’t matter anyway because Jimmy isn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, he stretches out and lies back on the deck, feet still dangling over the edge, wings crushed beneath him, looking at the sky. Revy squeaks and wiggles over to sit next to him, planting his face on Jimmy’s chest. 

“We’ll take whatever comes to us, Tango,” he says, somehow with so much calm certainty that it’s almost convincing. “No matter what. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango wonders whether that’s a lie.

“Okay,” he says instead of asking whether it is. “Okay. Okay. Yeah.”

Jimmy glances over at him. There’s nothing but uncertainty in Tango’s self-reassurance.

“Trust me.” Jimmy reaches out to touch whatever part of Tango he can reach- his upturned palm on the deck between them, the metal of it cold. “Tango. Trust me. We’ll get through this.”

Tango’s hand twitches towards the space where his other arm should be and he chokes on a pained whimper- shit, fuck, losing a limb shouldn’t keep hurting after it’s gone. Revy’s ragged tail wags between them in his almost-sleep.

“Okay.” 

Sensing the lack of conviction in Tangos’ voice, Jimmy grabs Tango’s arm and tugs him to lie down next to him- well, as close as they can get with the dog snuggled into the little space between them. Tango has never been so uncomfortable in his entire life. He doesn’t move. 

“Tango,” Jimmy says, rolling onto his side to take Tango’s face in both of his warm hands. “I promise. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango doesn’t mean to, but he’s crying again, so Jimmy clambers over the dog to crush Tango in an embrace, tucking him close to his chest. Tango struggles closer still, sobbing into Jimmy’s shirt as he clutches onto it. 

Jimmy hushes him, rubbing his back in circles. His every breath sounds that little bit more laboured with the air spilling out from the cannula, and Tango’s metal arm is stabbing him in the side.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers. Tango nods furiously, desperately. Jimmy is briefly glad that Tango’s fire does not catch on other people. “We’re going to be alright.”

Tango makes a choked noise and manages, “We’re going to be okay,” his voice watery and sharp with tears. 

Jimmy half-smiles, continuing to rub circles onto Tango’s back. Revy pokes him in the shoulder with his nose and curls up again near Tango’s head. Tango’s whole body shakes with every sob. 

“We’re going to be okay,” Jimmy reiterates quietly. “I’ve got you, Tango. We’re going to be okay.”

#tango tek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #team rancher #rancher apocalypse au #hybbart #fanfiction #angst #this is meant to fit pretty solidly within canon and i did my absolute best with it king #my writing

[not-poignant]

Hi, Pia.....Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Thanks if you want to answer...

Hi anon!

So... they change and tbh I'm going to forget a ton of characters I love and then scream in my head later like 'oh no but THAT character and THAT character and THAT character' but I'll do my best!

Kiriyama Rei from March Comes in Like a Lion - Probably my favourite character possibly of all time. Introverted, kind of ace-coded right up until the end of the manga when it changes (and since the anime never ended he stays ace-coded throughout that lmao), very human, extremely depressed, and I just think he's a very good depiction of like...what it's like to live with extremely repressive depression and post-trauma while not necessarily knowing you have those things.

Dazai Osamu from Bungou Stray Dogs - He's a brilliant intellect genius with too much ability to know so much about the world that he kind of ends up suicidal all the time due to his upbringing / some of the things he's done and also what he's experienced. I just enjoy him. (Notable runner up here is Nakahara Chuuya but dslkajf)

Felix Harrowgate from the Doctrine of Labyrinths trilogy - Angsty, PTSD, waspish, 'I'm going to hurt you because I was hurt and then hate myself and do very self-destructive things about it but keep that part a secret so I just look like a constant dickhead,' brilliant, very good at magic. Love this dude. Would walk hundreds of miles for this dude, like the song. Would definitely write a long-ass fanfic about him.

Daeshik from Love So Pure - I love this guy SO much. He's a side-story / secondary pairing in the manhwa but I LOVE him because he's so against type. He's dorky but not in a very cute way, he's overbearing, he's SO neurodivergent coded it's painful and sometimes hilarious, he's determined and ambitious, he's not 'hot' in any typical kind of twink way, and I know he's split the fandom between 'god he's so annoying' and 'Daeshik is the BEST.' The whole webtoon is fucking amazing anyway, but Daeshik has my whole heart in his journey from 'dorky annoying overbearing friend' to 'oh I just realised I'm gay and now everything is Pride Pride Pride and I'm definitely crying next to a dildo I bought that was too big for me.'

Presenting Daeshik:

You'll never guess what he's sitting on sdlkjfas (he fails abjectly and then cries about it in a way that's kind of hilarious honestly).

Dana Scully from The X-Files - I didn't know it at the time, but this was very much my bisexual awakening. I mean I'm pretty heavily ace now, but I'm mostly not into cishet dudes, and I had pictures of Scully up on my wall like how did I not fucking know. Anyway, scientist, smart, 'so done with your shit' and just wry and witty and *clenches fist* so short and tiny and powerful. I love her. (And Gillian Anderson).

Loki from the MCU - Not necessarily every iteration, but I do love how Tom Hiddleston plays him, and I appreciate the queerer representation. Adore this guy. Look at him, what an absolute dickhead of a god. 10/10 would read him in hurt/comfort fics and PWPs again.

Hyunsoo Seo and Youngchan Baek from Perfect Buddy / XXX Buddy - Possibly my favourite manhwa of all time and I really hope that stays true because it's not finished yet. Idk how to describe these characters because they're both very complex as you get to know them better, but basically 'angry wet cat man with past trauma that he hides exceptionally well vs. Gwyn-dimensioned blond puppy dog who is just pretending to be a puppy dog because he knows exactly how threatening he is and is willing to be to protect the people he loves.'

Murderbot in the Murderbot novella series - I think all of us - or most of us - find Murderbot incredibly relatable and that's refreshing as fuck in any novel series tbh. (ART as runner-up though, love that fucker).

Sebastian Michaelis from Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler - Honestly there were a lot of kind of 'extremely powerful but kind of shitty fuckboys' I wanted to put in this category including Gojou Satoru from JJK, Reigen from MP100, and even Louis from Beastars, but Sebastian's gonna win out because I still don't know if he's going to eat Ciel at the end of that series and I very much love not knowing because he's such a devious fuckhead. Love that not-actually-a-man.

Yuurakutei Yakumo (Kikuhiku) from Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu - I just... *flails* Almost no one has seen this anime series and it kind of kills me because firstly the books were written by someone practiced in writing BL and even though this isn't BL you can still tell the vibes are there. Secondly, one of the most ace-coded characters ever. Gender-fuckery abounds, which is fun. Thirdly just, honestly, more folks should watch this?

There were a lot of characters I know I missed but I'm pretty satisfied with this list.

I've just given myself a bunch of stuff to rewatch and reread because of this anon! :D

#asks and answers #personal #inadvertent recs #i definitely have types! #there's not many women because of my own complex relationship with gender #but i did nearly put #debra morgan from dexter in here especially as played by jennifer carpenter #she nailed that role #and i also nearly put #sophie from howl's moving castle who is absolutely fucking goated #but i already have like 11 in this list so sdalfkjas #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

[subastian-swallows]

Ominis Gaunt, Uncle Extraordinaire

CHAPTER TWO: CHALLENGES 

★ Chapter one

Chapter three ★

Pairing: Sebastian x YOU x Ominis - Love triangle?

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Angsty, Forbidden love

Summary: A series of fluffy, angsty, heart-breaking moments between you, the reader and Ominis/Sebastian — where you figure out that ever since that day, Ominis allowed you into his heart, he has been completely in love with you. Slight problem, you've eloped with Sebastian and are now raising your daughter.

Side note: Ominis and Sebastian became Aurors after graduating — let's just say they both had enough experience in that department to be great fits. You, the reader, are currently a stay at home mom — a housewitch if you will. BUT don't be discouraged, you are a great asset to supporting your husband in taking down those that deserve it.♡ •ᴗ•

The grungy village tavern was once a place Ominis found exciting, a place where he would sneak into with Sebastian — and after charming a butterbeer or two from the proprietress, they’d hide in the back, listening for gossip. But now, it felt like a cage. Ominis had decided from the moment he received the letter about Anne, that he would stay here and although you had offered more than once, that he could stay with you — he had already practised just how he would say no to you. Saying no to Sebastian was easy — but with you, it felt like every time he felt your body slump at his words, it was as if he had plunged a dagger into your chest and twisted it. And so when Ominis spent the train ride, reciting the one word answer to your question — perhaps now he was thankful that Sebastian hadn’t really changed. 

Truthfully the tavern wasn’t completely horrible. 

Ominis had gotten exceptionally good at pretending he wasn’t there and with that it meant retrieving information or rumours was easy — which only made him extremely valuable. Perhaps, this was why becoming an Auror was not only a smart choice, but a good one. But there was another layer to it he supposed, Ominis’ hatred for his family only grew with the years and with what happened in their fifth-year — well, perhaps he had grown a little spiteful. But what he didn’t expect was for Sebastian to be amongst the accepted. And not in the sense that he didn’t have what it took to be an Auror — because regardless of everything Ominis would never deny Sebastian’s talents — it was more so, it felt comical that after everything, he decided on that path.

But he supposed, it would be a thought Sebastian would have had about him too — at least, that’s what a part of him assumed. When Ominis stepped back from their friendship, Sebastian reached out for a while and then eventually stopped. Unlike you, Sebastian was definitely resentful — at least to him and so Ominis tried not to take it too personally. This was all before you called the reunion — a ‘stop being twats and be friends again’ kind of meeting and Ominis would have probably said no, but it seemed that he still didn’t have the heart to say it — at least not to you. 

They both were hesitant at first, unable to find a common ground — until you laughed, so hard that you slipped from the stone bench you were sitting on. You always did find the humour in things — especially in their arguments and when Ominis and Sebastian both stood to help you up, Sebastian was just a little bit faster. He always did seem to act rather impulsively, so confident in his stride — and that perhaps, was why you fell for him. It wasn’t so obvious at first, but when you had started to spend almost all of your time together — well it was hard for Ominis to not be upset. 

You always seemed to laugh the loudest when you were around Sebastian and Ominis always wondered what it was about him — that you really liked. Over the years, it had been said that Sebastian had grown into his features, with his shoulders becoming broader and his freckles darkened beautifully along his skin where the sun had kissed — it was painfully obvious how he made girls feel. His hair had also fluffed out nicely, longer too, but Ominis only knew this because of how you spoke so subtly about how handsome he had become. You never did notice how much you spoke of Sebastian — or at least, that’s what Ominis had told himself, but it was clear from the beginning that you had been completely charmed by Sebastian. 

But Ominis had too — grown into his features.

And despite him feeling as if you hadn’t noticed, that was nothing more than his mind playing tricks — because of course you did. You had watched him grow taller than Sebastian, watched his features deepen with age — but probably your most favourite thing was how the soft red tinge of his lips grew dark as if they were always swollen. Ominis, of course, didn't know any of this. He found it hard to believe, you would have thought of anyone else but Sebastian and when he recalled a memory of you fixing up his hair — it was the sudden softness of your touch that made him wish things were different. Feeling rather stuck in his thoughts, Ominis would have continued to drown his sorrows — if it wasn't for you showing up, your heart beating like crazy. He could tell you had waited, perhaps had to explain your reasonings to Sebastian, but here you were — pulling yourself a seat beside him and ignoring his short gasp, when your knee brushed his.

“Sebastian told me you would be here,” you said, attempting to reach for his hand and smiled sadly as he pulled it away and clasped his mug, keeping both of them tightly attached so he had an excuse — but when you softly chuckled at his response, a part of him wished he didn’t retract from your touch, “he also would have came with me to apologise, but our little one wanted cuddles —”

“Apologise? For what exactly?”

You hummed and started drawing a figure eight on the table, the slight vibration as you tapped happily in completion — caused Ominis to grow distracted with counting the taps on his own mug and you smiled when you realised, “about everything — it seems that whatever has happened between us, is beyond the passing of Anne. Sebastian’s comments really upset you —”

“You’re mistaken, his comments meant nothing to me — as I clearly mentioned, I’m not myself,” Ominis said, finally giving up on the mug and pushing it away — before leaning one arm against the table, rocking it slightly as his other hand ruffled up his fringe, which had gotten rather long since the last time you’d seen him and you pouted slightly, “whatever Sebastian has to say, is nothing more than his way of expressing himself. I’d thought you’d know that by now”

“So, what he said — there’s no truth to it?”

Ominis swallowed bitterly and nodded, it was easier to lie when they were far apart and when you shuffled in your seat, he wished so desperately to comfort you — but he didn’t, “you’re correct, he was simply being —”

“I think you’re lying Ominis,” you said, your voice so sure and when Ominis straightened before returning his face to lean against his hand, you finally paid attention to just how red his face had gotten and with the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath, you pouted and reached a hand forward again, “you stormed out remember?”

“I stormed out — because it was ridiculous.”

By now, you felt a little frustrated and perhaps, you just wished for Ominis to tell the truth — that the whole thing was a simple misunderstanding, but it didn’t feel like that. Truthfully, Ominis had grown distant ever since Sebastian wildly expressed to the Great Hall that you had agreed to be his girlfriend and at first you took it simply as him feeling jealous about losing time with his friend — but perhaps it was always more. Pulling yourself back and realising that he was still the same old Ominis you knew in school, you knew you’d be going around in circles — trying to get anything emotional from him and so you frowned, slowly pulling yourself up. 

“It seems that you’ve not changed — and after all that work I did to pull your walls down,” you said, before letting out a soft chuckle and attempting to move from the table, but as if Ominis had a sudden change of heart — and perhaps, it was thanks to the alcohol kicking in, he gently grabbed your arm, slowly grazing his fingers against your skin until he squeezed your hand, “O—Ominis?”

“You were the only one that I let in — after Sebastian, after Anne and you were the last. I’m — I apologise for hurting you, but I had to step away.”

You swallowed nervously and realised he had pulled you towards him, so now you were almost directly between his legs and you froze — seeing how his jaw was now tensed and his grip had only tightened around your hand, “so — what does that mean, why did you have to step away from me — from us?”

“Do you want to hear me say it?” Ominis said, his voice suddenly tense and filled with an emotion you had only heard from Sebastian and when your thoughts returned to him — your husband, you wanted to pull away, to push away the blonde man in front of you — but you didn’t and he smiled at the silence, “I think you want what Sebastian said, to be true — but sadly, I can’t give you that satisfaction.”

“Excuse — me?”

Ominis chuckled and dropped your hand, suddenly sliding his stool back — he might not have been able to see your expression, but he was almost certain, he knew exactly what it was, “don’t act so innocent now — you’re the one who came storming in here, wondering why I left —”  

“Because I was worried about you? Ominis, you’re my friend — were my friend,” you said, stepping away and growing more flustered, it wasn’t about that, not really — or that’s what you told yourself, but when you stumbled over your thoughts and felt your chest ache, Ominis stood up and moved towards you, reaching a hand towards your cheek, “Ominis, don’t — you’re drunk, this isn’t what I wanted when I came here. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“Like what? Or are you finally realising that perhaps, deep down — you always knew and now you’re unsure of what to do.”

You acted before you realised and when your hand made contact with Ominis’ cheek, you gasped and stepped further away. He had also not been expecting it and when he slowly reached for the new sensation in his face, the redness growing quickly on his pale skin — you uttered a feeble apology as you turned, before you left Ominis to stand in silence and alone. 

Ominis felt horrible — a feeling he was becoming increasingly familiar with and he hummed and returned to his seat, thankful that he could not see the prying eyes from those that sat in the tavern — but he knew they were there. Requesting another drink, Ominis frowned and realised he had probably had made things worse — but that’s what he wanted, right? He didn’t want you to care for him, he didn’t want to be in your life — so why did it feel so gut-wrenching that you left the way you did. 

Ominis wanted to leave that night — but he didn’t. 

He wanted to apologise. To somehow bury these feelings he had for you and so he continued to drown himself, to lose the process of thinking completely — but of course, his thoughts were against him and they returned to you and your glistened skin as he pushed you down against the bed, he was to sleep alone in. 

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fic #ominis fluff #ominis my beloved #ominis smut #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #ominis gaunt fanfiction #sebastian sallow x you

[cecilysass]

Fic Recommendations: DeadAlive

So I really like post-DeadAlive fics. Not because I’m a big resurrection story fan (Jesus / Osiris stans, no offense) but because I can’t get enough of angst, repressed feelings and baby daddy reveal drama. I am going to post a version of my very own later this week. Meanwhile, I read a lot of these, so I thought I would share some recs. Here are a few of my favorites.

Slow Returns - o666666  You just don’t know how often I reread this. I love it so, so much. This one puts the emphasis on Scully’s trauma, and it’s so angsty, and it’s so sweeeeeet. I tear up every time.

DeadAlive AU - @markwatneyandenesemble I always say I actually think this should probably be called Three Words Canon Divergence or something, but whatever it is, I love it. The premise is two specific changes to canon. When Mulder comes back from the dead: (1) he has memories only to 1996 and (2) Scully isn’t visibly pregnant yet.

Author Skuls seems to feel about about this subgenre like I do, because she seems to have written a lot of post-DeadAlive, and I’m not complaining. Here’s a little DeadAlive Skuls tasting trio:

the smaller odysseys - skuls (@ghostbustermelanieking)  An AU DeadAlive fic in which Doggett convinces Skinner to keep Mulder’s resurrection a secret from Scully for longer. This ends like awwwwwwwww.

ashes and dust - skuls (@ghostbustermelanieking)  A largely canon-compliant DeadAlive / Three Words deep dive.

inches between them - skuls (@ghostbustermelanieking)  Another Skuls fic on this subject, also exceptionally sweet.

Doctor, Copper, Sailer, Corpse - Scarlet Baldy This is a series of first person vignettes from Scully POV. Extremely angsty and a little painful, with a very self-destructive version of Mulder here, but ultimately a hopeful ending. 

Ray of Light - OnlyTheInevitable (@gaycrouton) Honest conversation, then hot pregnancy sex—a Three Words fic we can all get behind. Which I think is actually one of the suggested positions for pregnancy sex.

Words, Words, Words - Circe Invidiosa (@invidiosa ) I’m not much of a Doggett fan, but I love this fic about Doggett breaking things down for Mulder. This is subtly written and moving— a heartbreaking Mulder characterization, in my opinion. home run - kittenscully Another great “Doggett gets involved” fic. Also very moving. Apparently this is how I like my Doggett. The Laws of Coming and Going - Buckingham A gentle Mulder-centric fic focused on his good intentions and slow moves back towards connecting with Scully. Very in-character and sweet. Hour of Lead - DarlaBlack (@sigritandtheelves) This is an excellent read — but watch out for the bleak, tear-out-your-heart ending. It's only painful because it’s canon compliant, so warning: you have to remember what happens with Scully’s longed-for miracle baby in canon. Waaaaah. So much angst. Untitled - @wtfmulder I see you, you wildly touching little drabble. This is set between Three Words and Empedocles, and it’s meant to explain the seeming change in Mulder’s attitude, and why does this make me cry?

What have I missed? Y’all have other post-DeadAlive fics you like? Have you written any? SEND THEM MY WAY.

#x files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #the x files #fic recs #fic recommendation #DeadAlive #One of my own DeadAlive fics coming this week

[theoutgriber]

Barbara Howard and Christianity Observations

As a chaplain and fan of Barbara Howard, I have a special interest in Barbara Howard’s relationship to Christianity and her church in Abbott Elementary, so here are a few thoughts. 

Her church is large enough that not everybody knows each other, that it can put on programs that sell out, and it has a finance board and cliques--Delisha Sloss is comfortable, at least with a small segment of her ‘coworkers in Christ,’ with scolding Barbara for ‘shaking people down again.’ That makes me the church ladies in the Fundraiser episode know that Mrs. Sloss has been stealing and either don’t care or actively benefit. I would also guess that the church organization itself is at least moderately wealthy. Mrs. Sloss is probably not the only member who is well-known or influential in the broader community. Canonically, Barbara may not be wealthy, but she hasn’t been in a personal position of having to ‘hustle,’ and she cares about her image. That makes me think that most of the church members are in the middle or upper classes and value respectability. 

It’s also notable that Barbara didn’t report the stealing to an authority within the church (it’s possible that she tried once using official channels and was shut down or just decided that reporting would stir up trouble and that ignoring it was better). Keeping a good surface relationship with one’s ‘colleagues in Christ’ is more important than almost anything else. It doesn’t sound like a church with a culture of trust and transparency. There’s no mention of pastors or priests, so it may or may not be a church in which the clergy or exceptionally powerful and charismatic. 

As other fans have pointed out and explored through fic, Mrs. Sloss is able to shame Barbara in the Fundraiser episode, like to both of them, the hypocrisy in scolding her is neither here nor there. Theologically, it’s possible that the leaders in the church tend to assert that all sins are equal, an idea that can allow leaders to gloss over major abuses to keep their communities on an even keel. This belief could contribute to Barbara’s struggles with making ‘immoral’ choices in the School Board and Fundraiser episodes. I suspect that the church as a whole promotes a certain moral rigidity or formula of morality (see also, cutting out controversial parts of popular Halloween movies) that makes it especially hard for Barbara to grasp the slur reclamation in “Forever Bitch Apparel.” 

At the same time, while my impression is that Barbara’s church is unhealthy and possibly even abusive, it probably also serves positive and resilience-building functions in her life as well, like opportunities to sing and dance and connect with friends outside the school. Barbara doesn’t seem to have an ‘angsty’ relationship with God (granted, Abbott Elementary is a comedy XD), and she seems to have a certain confident and casual way of speaking to God (”Throw us a bone, please. Amen”). God and Christian moral structure seem to be sources of comfort and confidence that help Barbara to persevere as a beloved teacher in a situation that burns most teachers out. She has a personal code that she sticks to as a teacher, evident from the first episode. She’s able to be creative, loving, lively, and welcoming to Jacob and Zach (which one wouldn’t necessarily expect). She also shows that she can navigate and maintain boundaries in the school setting and take time for herself. She doesn’t have a problem speaking her mind to Ava or her colleagues, so she’s not the stereotype of a resentfully over-giving Christian woman, at least in her work environment (that might’ve been a different story when Taylor was growing up, tbh). Granted, no human is completely consistent in their beliefs and actions, but maybe Barbara has honed very fine compartmentalization skills over the years (see also: Sea Barbara). Relationships with other adults, I suspect she is finding, defy the habit of  compartmentalization. 

I would like to see Christian faith be a source of strength and resilience for Barbara in fic and canon. I also want her to be given the tools and support she needs to let her experiences with people at Abbott shift her thinking. Based on what we’ve already seen, I think God is a loving and protective force for Barbara (not someone she worries about bothering), and her convictions fortify her to show up for her kids every day. You do *everything* you can for your kids, even, as she’s learning more deeply, when that means you have to prioritize and let your values shift. That conviction isn’t a historical contradiction to Christian behavior. In light of what she’s experiencing this season at Abbott, I hope that she will be empowered to see the problems in her church environment and make a change. That could mean taking on a different position in the church or maybe even leaving her church, no doubt a scary and disorienting experience. 

I don’t know what else to say about that at the moment, but I’m curious about others’ thoughts about this topic and am greatly enjoying the ‘conversations’ that fic writers are having with the canon currently! 

#abbott elementary #barbara howard #christianity #faith #barbara needs a hug #discourse

[isfjmel-phleg]

Why I like it: Mike and Psmith

It's Psmith Pseptember! I regret I haven't arranged anything formal because I have too many projects already and I feel like I ran out of intelligent things to say about this series years ago. (Apparently if you do a thesis on something you love, you will get burned out on it indefinitely. Rude.)

However: I am not an Intelligent Things To Say vending machine and I shouldn't expect myself to be. So I'm going to keep it psimple and just gush a bit on every Psunday (except this time, on Monday, because I ran out of steam yesterday, sorry) in Pseptember about why I like these books, one by one. At least, that's the intention.

I read Mike and Psmith because I wanted to get into Wodehouse, who had been recommended to me. I didn't know where to start, got the impression that the Psmith series was one of his early things, and figured I should start from the beginning. I was in my first year of community college and I interlibrary-loaned Mike and Psmith and I loved it.

The humor got my attention first, as is usually the case with Wodehouse. The book is very approachable, even for a twenty-first-century American woman with no background in cricket or Edwardian public school, because it's utterly hilarious. The narration, the situations, pretty much every word out of Psmith's mouth--it's all brilliant. Humor can be a means to get an audience invested; I probably wouldn't have loved Mike and Psmith as much if the narrative had taken them and everything else with complete seriousness. In fact, Mike and Psmith would probably be a lot less likable if they had been earnestly angsty and sullenly throughout. And furthermore, because of the humor, the more dramatic parts take on especial poignancy because of the contrast in tone.

But I fell in love with the book because of the characters. Psmith is so delightfully audacious. He says and does things that probably no one in real life could pull off but that he can through sheer self-confidence and indifference to any social norms he finds inconvenient. For someone like me, that was a refreshing escape to read about. Psmith stands out for his wit and unconventionality, but what promotes him from merely amusing to outright likeable is his capacity for caring about others and the tension between this admirable trait which he nonetheless endeavors to hide and his public persona of detached selfishness. He's complicated. But ultimately good. Meanwhile, Mike isn't really the nonentity that many readers dismiss him as, the ordinary foil to Psmith's exceptionality. He's not highly complex, but he doesn't need to be--he's real and relatable in a way that Psmith cannot be. The reader may daydream about what it would be like to be Psmith but may be more likely to see themselves in Mike (prodigious cricket talent notwithstanding). He's a believable teenager, caught up in the Supreme Tragedy of having to give up a dream as a consequence of his own poor choices, surly and belligerent at times, bad at thinking things through, but at the same time his heart is in the right place, and unlike Psmith, he is unself-conscious about it. He neither seeks praise or tries to conceal; he simply acts on his natural compassion for anyone in distress, even if it puts him out. He and Psmith are so alike and so different, and their friendship makes total sense.

The book was written primarily to be entertaining. Wodehouse was not trying to make a statement. I'm sure it has No Allegorical Significance whatsoever. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't have anything worth saying. Wodehouse's previous school stories, set in the same universe, had a more traditional public-school worldview. In these stories, the school was a community with its own particular values and code, which were not to be questioned. Those who failed to live up the community's standards--such as shunning sports--were to be viewed with suspicion and ostracized and must conform in order to finally gain acceptance. Mike and Psmith fit the pattern of the sports-shunning outsider, but they are presented with sympathy, and when they finally do choose to participate in cricket, it is not due to social pressure but because they conclude that it is the right thing to use their skills to help a friend in need. It's not a story about living up to the schoolboy code and restoring the arbitrary social order; it's about doing the right thing on a personal level, about the duties of one human being to another. A theme lightly treated, of course, but still something worth saying.

Anyway, this book helped me through a time in my life when I was just as annoyed with my new school as Mike ever was, and while I may not have met a real-life Psmith to help me survive it, I was still all the better for having made the acquaintance of Psmith on the page. Fictional characters are excellent companions in misfortune.

#Psmith Pseptember

[cosmic--dandelion]

So I have a fairly unique take on Kakyoin's backstory in my own writing. I wrote his parents as straight up toxic, psychologically and sometimes physically abusive, and neglectful. My version of Kakyoin ran away from home years before he met Jotaro, spent some time in a mental institution, and instead of being stalked and kidnapped, deliverately sought Dio out on his own.

Quite a departure from the more commonly accepted "Kakyoin has nice, normal parents who just didn't understand him" interpretation, huh? So why did I write this (other than the fact that I graviate toward angsty backstories) and how does it fit what we know about Kakyoin?

Kakyoin's most obvious feature is his intelligence. All of his friends, who are (mostly) brainy guys themselves, acknowledge that he's the best, most reliable strategist in the group, and a good portion of his dislogue is info-dumping. As expected of an honor student, he's very prim and proper to contrast Jotaro's delinquent image. Yet he's also weird, socially awkward, brutally honest, and emotionally distant. I've heard him described as having no setting in between "uncomfortably polite" and "rude bastard", and damn if that doesn't fit him like glove. In battle, he's probably the scariest, most ruthless crusader and is perfectly capable of straight-up beating the shit out of his closest friends, even if he's also capable of bring the bigger person and forgiving them. Friendship and bonds are everything to him. He's caring and empathetic but has balls of steel and takes exactly zero shit from anyone. He's quite familiar with other cultures' customs and traditions, implying he's an experienced traveler. Kakyoin is very independent and has skills, knowledge, and confidence you wouldn't expect a normal kid his age to have.

I wrote a little about Kakyoin's backstory in the second fanfiction I ever wrote, "Facets" and then in great detail in "In Water". If you haven't yet, please go check them out! They are, in my opinion, quite a bit more interesting that just hearing me talk about them. Now onto spoilers, for both the manga and my own work.

So this is Kakyoin's canonical backstory. All of it. The anime isn't canon, the fighting games aren't canon, the Josuke and Hol Horse spin-off isn't canon. Only this is, plus that 19 page backstory Araki wrote for him thirty years ago that will never see the light of day.

This is it. There's a blurb on his character profile that mentions that his parents are alive, they think he ran away, and they're either "shocked " or "very worried" depending on the translation. Then he dies, and in typical Araki fashion, Kakyoin is never seen or referenced again.

The sheer amount of angst Kakyoin had over no one being able to see his stand, even compared to other born stand users, makes me think there's more to it.

In my version of his backstory, Kakyoin's parents are poor. His dad is a rather unimpressive, unambiguous office worker who's made several bad business decision, escalating tensions between him and his wife. She hails from an upper middle class background and is generally a bit snobbish and image-conscious. Kakyoin's birth just adds fuel to the flames. In addition to being another mouth to feed, he has inexplicably bright red hair and violet eyes. (In my version of the jjba-verse, born stand users just have weird hair and eye colors sometimes.) The husband decides that this means his wife cheated on him with a red-headed foreigner.

Kakyoin is a problem child. He's exceptionally bright and imaginative in a school system (remember, it's 1970s Japan) that doesn't know how to handle gifted children, and he's non-neurotypical with a troubled home life to boot. That conversation with his teacher probably happens around this time. He self isolates, but he's not causing trouble on purpose, and the other kids are intimidated, but not hateful. Yet.

Then his parents have a their worst fight yet, and Kakyoin loses control of Hierophant due to stress and almost kills his father. The man is traumatized (as you would be if you were possessed by an invisible tentacle monster only you son can see and control) and abandons his own family. The mother knows Kakyoin did *something*, but she doesn't know what. Her resentment deepens, and they continue to drift apart.

Kakyoin's relationship with his mother reaches its nadir, and now he *is* getting ostracized. He's angry at the world and starting to lash out. By age 10, Kakyoin has started seeing counselors. He is misdiagnosed as having a whole host of scary-sounding mental disorders and is forced to take powerful mood stabilizers and antipsychotics every day. After all, he spends all his time playing with someone they can't see and drawing a weird green thing that looks like a cthulhuloid abomination. The mother reaches her breaking point and surrenders him to a combination group home/"special school". This experience defined him probably more than any other event in his life before this point. It's incredibly violating and humiliating, and Kakyoin develops a complex about always having to be seen as the smartest guy in the room.

At around age 14, he runs away, desperate to find more people like him. On his travels, he hears rumors about a mysterious, beautiful man in Egypt with strange powers. The entire "family vacation" to Egypt was a lie he made up on the spot because he didn't want to admit that HE sought Dio out, not the other way around, and that he's a runaway with a checkered past.

So what about his parents? My version of Kakyoin doesn't hate them and would have at least tried to bridge the gap between them if they'd both hasn't so thoroughly cut him out of their lives. He feels guilty on some level for not being a good enough son, and he wants to believe that they still love him on some level. Hence the "I'm sorry for making you worry" line.

Are they worried? Probably. They're shitty parents, not monsters.

(The "mom has dad and dad has mom" line? The former Mrs. Kakyoin had a revolving line of boyfriends and lovers, so Kakyoin started to think of 'dad' as a temporary position in her life rather than a singular person. Growing up in a dysfunctional family with no socialization with peers who had normal ones, he has a warped view of how families are.)

So what about Dio?

This one's pretty easy. In my version, Dio acted like a friend at first, lulling Kakyoin into a false sense of security. He was a little intimidated, but not full on terrified. Dio didn't want to risk destroying Kakyoin's brain, finding it quite useful, so he basically tried to groom him so the fleshbud wouldn't be needed. Then once Dio realized that Kakyoin was going to be harder to control than his other minions, he implanted the fleshbud. Dio being Dio, he decided to scare the shit out of the poor kid, savoring his pain and horror and sense of betrayal.

I think I would probably feel differently giving Kakyoin this amount of baggage if I ever wrote anything canon-compliant. I also didn't add it to make him more of a wobbie or break him so Jotaro could fix him with the power of yaoi.

It means something to me that (my version of) Kakyoin went through all this shit and healed from it and went on to lead a long, happy, successful life.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #noriaki kakyoin #stardust crusaders #meta #my writing #child abuse #ableism #neglectful parents #backstory #character study #in water #facets #spoilers #long post

[witchoil]

Twenty Questions for a Fic Writer

Stolen from @augustmourn! Thanks for posting, this was fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

52 connected to my account/pseuds, several anon'd

What’s your total ao3 word count?

344,041

What fandoms do you write for?

I bounce around fandoms a lot AND write for exchanges pretty frequently, so i'm not as much of a steady fandom person. You can go to my user page and expand fandoms to see just how true that is. Old standbys are probably Star Wars and Naruto, as insane as that sounds.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Me and You and a Dog Named Boo - 1,411 kudos. Venom movies Venom/Eddie/Reader cross-country roadtrip with some mild plot and lots of porn. I wrote this with my partner and a close friend and it may have taken us 5 years to finish but we had an immense amount of fun along the way.

General Organa's List of Things You May No Longer Do - 750 kudos. Short humor fill for a SW kinkmeme prompt from back in 2016. Writing-wise I don't think it's anything special but it was my first fic posted to AO3.

Artemisia in Snow - 402 kudos. Reylo hypothermia fic, simple as. Did a lot of research on hypothermia for this one. I think it ranks so highly in kudos simply because it's one of my few T-rated fics.

Vestal - 394 kudos. Short short short Kylo Ren character study. I wrote this one night and posted it immediately, but I'm still very fond of it. Lots of gender going on. I feel proud that it was so well-received and kicked off a long-term fandom friendship of mine.

Take a Slice - 310 kudos. Kirikacchako threesome fic, what more is there to say? Also written with two close friends in a round-robin format during an in-person visit. Very fun, if not all that complex.

These fics are all fun and great but ultimately overall they don't represent my best writing or my personal favorite fics that I've written.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Deep sigh I wish I was better about this. I almost always respond to exceptionally long comments because they're SO important to me, but otherwise it can be hard. I have a huge backlog that I'll likely never get to if for no other reason than some of them are SO OLD.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Maybe Hard Cover. Obi-Wan/Qui-Gonn Bad Guys Made Them Do It noncon where they walk away with their relationship is kind of in tatters and, worse, we know that the river of canon will flow on. I find the idea of them not getting to resolve what happened before Qui-Gonn's death way more devastating than the death alone.

Caw, Caw, Koodle-Yah is also pretty angsty.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I can't lie I'm a sucker for happy endings, so I think a lot of the fics I write have them? (Outside of all the noncon that makes up about 1/3 of my output.) Maybe the happiest to me is Come Calling in that it involves a nice getting together with the promise of a future. The ending is very rosy, but it came from the heart (and the hole).

Do you get hate on fics?

Once or twice. I had someone get MASSIVELY upset at me for choosing not to spoil a surprise in one of my fics in the tags. We had a short interaction in the comments that didn't satisfy them so they sent me an EMAIL complaining about it further and demanding that I "admit" I did it out of spite, which I definitely didn't.

Do you write smut?

HAHAHAHAHA. Yes. Prodigiously.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not. I don't want to knock anyone who does but they've always seemed vaguely silly to me? I prefer canon-swap AUs to straight-up crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think once or twice I've had someone request to translate a fic into Russian, but I'm not sure if they ever went through with it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't speak another language, so I probably wouldn't go there unless I was close enough to someone who did that they could help. I sometimes find it a bit cheesy when people do this but ultimately it won't stop me from reading a fic.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, many! I love co-writing. Having someone to cheerlead you through the tough sections and share the load of writing is really nice. I enjoy the creative process of bouncing ideas off of each other and most of the time this outweighs the difficulty of making compromises.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Most of my favorite ships are ones that I don't write for, or even read for. Often they're ones where the text has everything I want. That said, it's probably Ashitaka/San from Princess Mononoke or Cam/Pal.

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably the unpublished Arcane fic that's about Cait/Vi failing as a relationship and slowly breaking up disastrously because of their experiential differences. The idea of them just crumbling apart fascinates me but I haven't been able to find much momentum to really write the damn thing.

What are your writing strengths?

I think dialogue! I really like writing it, the process of tweaking it, AND it's my favorite part of a fic to read.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Eurgh....plot. Plot is so hard for me. I'm not a gardener or a pantser, but an architect with aphantasia. I'll have an idea but how to get there just makes me draw a blank. It takes a lot of effort to structure themes, ideas, and theses into actual stories, which is a bit embarrassing to admit. I still love to write, though.

First fandom you wrote for?

Naruto! I was about 12 I think and wrote an unfinished Sakura/Gaara fic based loosely on an existing fic that I really loved.

Favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably either Fires That Fence the World In or Steal the Blush.

Fires is my first Locked Tomb fic and a true labor of love. I put a lot of work, some actual research, and a great deal of elbow grease into that fic and feel a great, tender affection for it in my heart.

Steal the Blush was a gift for my partner where I had free reign to play with the Hannibal dolls in an omegaverse setting however I wanted, and I did exactly that. Omegaverse isn't a trope I'd ever write for myself (and squicks me out in many cases), but it was a fun challenge to make it work for myself. I also think I got the character voices JUST right.

Tagging anyone who wants to do this, feel free to tag me in your response!

#hel irl #ask games

[desertfangs]

20 Questions for Fic Writers! ✨

Tagged by @nothing-but-paisley - Thank you so much! 💖

1. How many works do you have on A03? 68! One more and I can never post again 😂 (66 of those are VC.)

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 315,352

3. What fandoms do you write for? The Vampire Chronicles. I have a couple of Merlin fics on my profile though, one I'm really proud of and one I lost steam on and never got far.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Best Kept Secrets (Merlin), Night Out (my first Lestat/Daniel fic on Ao3), The Mundanity of Mortality, The Vampire Bar, and Series of Birthdays. Basically my oldest fics 😂

5. Do you respond to comments? Always!! Sometimes it takes me a while but I love replying to people who took the time to leave a comment. Every comment is a gift and so very appreciated! 💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Turn Me to Dust, which is probably the angiest Devil's Minion fic I've ever written. I struggle with leaving things too angsty at the end though. 🤧 Or maybe In the Midst of Madness.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have a happy ending so that's really hard to pick. I hate leaving them sad okay! It makes me sad.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, not on AO3 at least and not to my knowledge.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do write smut! I enjoy writing how eroticism and intimacy can affect a relationship or how it's used to maybe put off other issues or even be a method of communication between two characters.

Armand and Daniel in particular really fascinate me with their intimate habits because they're so experimental in all ways, and at first it's a mortal and vampire, which is fun to play with. And once Daniel's a vampire, it's fun to explore how that changes how they engage with physical intimacy.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I do not! Or at least, I haven't yet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I'm aware. I sure hope not!

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

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have! A long time ago. It's something I'd love to do again, it can be really fun!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Devil's Minion! OTP baby.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't have one published currently that's unfinished (except that Merlin one and I'm probably never getting back to that). I have a few that I've started over the last year or so that may never get completed though.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue! I don't always nail it but it's definitely a skill I'm proud of.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'd like to get better at writing evocative descriptions, it's not something I'm great at.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I could manage some basic back and forth en français but I'm never really comfortable enough to do more than that.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Vampire Chronicles, baby! I wrote my first fic in math class in high school. I was not good at math.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Oh gosh, I don't know how to choose. One that I'm exceptionally happy with is Five Times Daniel and Armand Almost Kissed During the Chase Years & One Time They Did.

tagging: @rebel-revenant, @leslutdepointedulac, @aunteat, @kaelio, @cinnamonclove @calipsan, @faerywhimsy and anyone else who wants to do it! And sorry for double tags or if you already posted this and I missed it while I was stuck grinding for capitalism all day.

#20 fic writer quesitons #fic writer meme #20 questions for fic writers #tag game #is tumblr limiting the number of people you can tag now #that would make sense but it's annoying

[lovelyfoolish]

Hello! A question for your wonderful detectives Bella and Mina: would they choose to be turned? Why (not)?

No pressure to answer this! Wishing you a lovely weekend 💖

this is such a fascinating question!

i wish my answer was less boring, but neither of my detectives would want to be turned. whether they'd choose to is based on the circumstances!

it’s funny, i’ve never mentioned extinction event before these asks but i have to mention it again.

i started outlining it at a time when i was thinking a lot about immortality and disability because i’d just played a game that touched on the intersection of those conditions for the first time and it took me aback. (the ending of that arc was disappointing as hell lol but it was glorious while it lasted.)

i’d never processed how (primarily physical) disability is excluded and ignored in immortality narratives despite it posing such vital questions — disabled people are not better off dead, obviously, but a lot of us have comfortable relationships with death. knowing there will be an end to your life (and an end to your pain, physical and/or mental) can bring you a lot of peace. i don’t know many disabled people who would choose immortality. i wouldn't.

what i loved about that game was that it touched on this in a way i truly could not remember having ever seen before — a disabled character was left in extreme emotional pain because their extended lifespan meant more exposure to ableism, and they believed a form of death (it's complicated, lol) would be their relief. they were willing to lose everything to be free of their condition, to not be less than those around them.

people love to talk about the emotional and angsty parts of immortality, like losing everyone you’ll ever love over and over again, but the prospect of living eternally with a condition that causes you pain (physically and mentally) doesn’t come up very frequently despite having the same potential.

(i can think of one case off the top of my head, and i think the character’s condition doesn’t register as a disability for most players. but i love when people describe his condition as chronic pain despite its supernatural origins, it's the reason his charm is on my doctor visit bag ;~;) 

perhaps it’s because a lot of immortality stories “heal” the person before turning them immortal, because disability is too messy to account for in immortality narratives, you don't want an idyllic eternity soiled by unhealed injuries.

like, in wayhaven, we know n's tranformation is exceptionally painful, but they come out of it with extreme healing abilities, and i don't think we've ever heard about them having lasting physical pain in canon. (please correct me if i'm wrong, though, i would love to claim them even more than i already have lol.)

quite plainly, physical disability isn’t valued as a characteristic. it’s pretty glaring when you're disabled and nearly every story about hot immortals you read wants to (albeit unintentionally) erase you. it's why unit bravo, or edward cullen if we want to touch on a classic example, are strong and fast and conventionally attractive (read: not fat) and have healing powers. 

vampires are superhumans, right, and simply put disabled people do not have extraordinary abilities. we have lesser abilities. no one wants to transform into something lesser. (despite our understanding of hypersenses originating with people who have lost other senses.)

i do appreciate that unit bravo grapple with mental health conditions/neurodivergence (especially n and m!), but physical disability is a very different thing and honestly mental disabilities like theirs aren’t really coded as unattractive or unsightly the way physical disabilities are. 

this isn’t like. a value judgement. (especially not of you, dear sparkly heart ♡) it’s just a reflection of our society. darwin kicks all our asses.

so. i think about what would happen if bella was turned. her heart would be fixed, probably. and i simply do not want that. if her heart was fixed she wouldn’t be herself. a bella that is not disabled and who doesn’t navigate the world in a disabled body is not bella.  

if for some reason her heart wasn’t fixed when she was turned, she would live with her disease forever. as things are now she has to have surgery every six or seven years, and she’d probably have to do that for decades before technology could maybe extend her wait a little. (ironically, though, my wait is getting shorter instead of longer with technology changes, lol. i got 9 years last time and i’m at 6-7 for my new one.) 

being sick for eternity, navigating both the effects of your illness and of people’s reactions to it, is hell on earth to me.

bella would never turn willingly. she’s probably contemplated it if it means healing her heart but her coming to accept her illness and accept that it is incurable and part of her is so important to me because that is a journey i am still on myself. 

mina is practical. she would not want to resign herself to a life of endless grief, and i think she would reject the prospect of being with her own thoughts until the heat death of the universe. 

she has ptsd, so again it’s a question of disability, and i think n in particular shows that immortality can exacerbate ptsd. she’d observe the two people she loves grappling with their immortality and the pain it causes them and she’d never want to turn.

it’s definitely a paradox because her dying would cause them pain, of course, but i think they’d want her to choose for herself and would agree with that choice. 

i feel like this sounds so harsh and mean but i promise i’m just trying to share some thoughts on disability and vampires because it means a lot to me ;~; 

i’m trying to be more confident about talking about inclusivity and not feel like the mean disabled bitch raining on a parade that’s not that deep but it’s like. i think immortality narratives are richer when they’re inclusive of disability? 

like actually i think n has chronic pain and is occasionally bed-bound because of it and m gets ocular migraines and i think that adds to their characters more than them healing their way out of their pain could. i can imagine an f who has seizures because their body can’t keep up with the mortal world sometimes. an a with limb difference since you simply can’t heal a missing hand. 

i don't think wayhaven love interests will ever represent physical disability in a meaningful way. (i will be truly surprised if that changes, but i will welcome it whole-heartedly! and maybe i've missed something about one of the characters anyway, it's been a long time since i played.)

my thoughts on the vampires will only ever be thoughts.

but i can make disabled love stories with my disabled detectives and i will make one with extinction event, and that starts with acknowledging the flaws in our conceptions of immortality.

thank you for thinking of me and asking this! 

#i didn't mean to go off i'm so sorry your question is so lovely and so are you #i really appreciate having the opportunity to talk about my girls ;~; #ask #anonymous #i have a stupid amount of drafts on disability and fantasy #including meditating on if vampirism is a disability #bioethicist plays vampire stories and goes insane volume 2939020101 #ee tag #mina #bella