silluuuu
what happened to the stars?
hi! i'm sillu / silly / sil :) she / her. AO3. soul eater, the locked tomb, writing stuff & random memes~ avatar by the lovely bbbutterfingers <3
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the way I have heard so many talented fanfic writers say they started writing because they read someone else's fanfics that are so good they inspired them into becoming writers too? just proved my point that your writing is never 'in vain', even if you dislike it and think it could've been better, it's still good enough for someone out there that it becomes their source of inspiration and perhaps happiness. you'll never know.
but don't ever, ever belittle your own works. just because you don't like them, doesn't mean other people dislike them too. again, you'll never know. there could be someone out there who reread your works every day because those fics you wrote helped them escape reality for a while, they could be reading your works as a way to help get them through a hard time in their life. you'll never know.
your writing may have saved someone's life.
your writing may have inspired someone into pursuing their career and changing their life for the better.
several best selling authors started as fanfic writers, and the majority of fanfic writers started writing because they were inspired by someone's fanfics. you do the math.
your "silly fics" have permanent impact on this world, even if you think they're not good (they actually are good, I promise you, don't let your mind lie to you).
I mean ***I*** personally started writing my first fanfic about 7 years ago, and have been writing ever since, because I was inspired by my favorite fanfic writers. I still remember all the lines I like from those fics I read 7-8 years ago, I still think about those fics I read from 7-8 years ago and still remember the stories very well in my heart. I started writing because of them.
this blog would never have been created at all, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.
I wouldn't have so far written about 130,000 words this year alone, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.
to all the fanfic writers out there; your works inspired someone, your writing made a difference to someone's life.
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you can recognize yourself through the fictional character. but watch out
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I love it when people take fic writing seriously. I love when it's not 'Here's this dumb thing I wrote' and instead it's 'Here's this thing I put blood, sweat and tears into. Here's this thing I slaved away at, trying new writing techniques and editing over and over. Here's this dialogue that kept me awake at night. Here's this beautiful turn of phrase I thought up. Here's this thing that I wrote with vulnerability and heart, and I am proud to share it with you.'
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several sentence snippet sunday ✍
thaaaanks for the tag @mellancholy-morose 😎 i have pivoted my writing efforts fully to the next chapter of King of My Heart, so for this week I'll share the opening of Chapter 5:
A pack of pills is mocking her.
More specifically, four packs of pills are mocking her.
They sit menacingly atop her dresser, tucked away and hidden from sight in a nondescript white paper bag from the palace pharmacy. Maka knows there are four packs contained within said bag because she’d ripped it open as soon as she’d received it from her aide last week, and has since removed them from their confines for the express purpose of having a crisis over them no less than three times per day.
Four packs, twenty-eight pills per pack, one pack per month. It is not lost on Maka that her wedding is in four months.
Her fingernails dig into her palms as her hands ball into fists. She turns on her heels and stalks away, turns from the offending birth control pills and paces to the other end of her room with her brows furrowed and her shoulders hunched in frustration.
She should just take the damn pills.
Life has been keeping me annoyingly busy these days, and I have way too many WIPs, so progress has been very slow on... everything I'm working on. It be like that sometimes unfortunately 🤣
Tagging @toweroftunes and @silluuuu and @blackbloodteeth to continue the game, if y'all have anything to share!
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can't stop thinking about those skeleton lesbians (pt 1)
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And the rest of the memes!! My friend enjoyed her birthday gift very much 🥳🥳 (pt 2)
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the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????
i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.
so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.
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Hello Soul Eater fans!
We Reverb mods have awakened from our much needed slumber to pose a question to you all: "Reverb 2024?"
If you have any interest in participating in a Reverb Revival, please do us a favor and complete this survey by Friday, May 31st, and share with your SE buddies.
Have you come across this post and don't know what Reverb is? Be sure to check out our About page and give us a follow as we'll be sure to keep you updated on all things Reverb!
Wishing you all the best,
Your Reverb mods
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repeat after me: i am a sexy bitch and no one ruins my 2014
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perfect
Happy SoMa Day to all who celebrate! A national holiday, as far as I'm concerned 😋I offer a fluffy, bite-sized little ficlet as my contribution, which features some of my favorite Soma tropes - grumpy Soul, domestic fluff, accidental cuteness, and BREAKFAST - all in less than 1k words!
Read it on AO3, or under the cut in its entirety!
-
“You’ll feel better once you have some food in you.”
Soul knows she’s right–Maka is almost always right, not that he’d willingly admit it–but still, he’s choosing to gripe about it.
He gripes about it all the way from his motorcycle to the glass entry doors of the restaurant, through the tightening of his meister’s grip on his wrist, until they're sliding into plush, squeaky booth seats and the hostess is shoving menus into their hands with a stifled smirk.
He bitches a little less, however, when his eyes fall upon the wide selection of food items displayed on the pages of said menus, as he flips through the smorgasbord of breakfast offerings. Banana nut pancakes and huevos rancheros, Belgian waffles and eggs benedict florentine. This place has every breakfast delicacy under the sun.
Unfortunately, the rest of the population of this po-dunk little Midwestern town must know this, too, as the restaurant is packed, and harbors every social annoyance under the sun as well.
Screaming toddlers. Middle-aged brunchers clinking their glasses of mimosa too loudly. Elderly couples staring at him obviously, their expressions aghast with horror. A crowd of servers gathered around a nearby table, presenting a young girl with a stack of birthday pancakes as they sing to her.
His head hurts, they got back to their hotel room after the mission way too late, and he’s running on a less-than-optimal amount of sleep. He wants to shovel a giant plate of scrambled eggs and bacon into his face and then promptly crash into the nearest sleep-able surface.
Soul groans and lets his head fall to the table, his forehead meeting wood with a heavy thunk. Moments later, there’s the all-too-familiar sensation of a pinch to his ear.
“You’re such a grump,” Maka giggles.
“I’m allowed.”
“Never said you weren’t,” she replies. He waits for her to continue berating him–’sit up straight already’ or ‘stop breathing on the table, it’s disgusting’- but she doesn’t. He rolls his head around, angling his eyes up to look at her, and finds her attention focused elsewhere.
“Isn’t this place just the cutest?” she muses. “I love the décor. It’s so cozy and welcoming.”
She’s gazing out at the room beyond, a twinkle of delight in her eyes as she takes it all in. Soul notices, too, for the first time–opposite them is a flickering fireplace framed by a brick hearth, and whimsical works of modern art hang upon every wall. Strategically placed ivy plants bring some color to the dining room, their jade-green, star-shaped leaves cascading down in long, elegant tendrils.
And on the wall of the booth they’re presently seated at, a lushly textured panel of artificial greenery. Maka’s flaxen head contrasts nicely against the darker shade, and–it would make for a lovely photo backdrop.
“Hey.” He sits up, suddenly feeling invigorated, and reaches a hand into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone. “Smile for me real quick?”
Maka blinks at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you… are you taking a picture of me?”
“No, I’m checking the weather for our flight home later,” Soul deadpans. In response, Maka sticks her tongue out at him and wrinkles her nose in an exaggerated grimace. Soul shrugs and hits the camera button, forever immortalizing the moment on digital film, and Maka blanches when she realizes he’s snapped a photo.
“H-Hey! Delete that!”
“No.”
“W-Well, take another one at least–”
“Pose nicely, then.”
Maka pouts, her cheeks visibly flushed and her brows cinched together, but before he can get that expression on film, she composes herself–adjusts her pigtails and straightens her spine, schools her face into a pleasant, soft smile. Soul lines her up in the viewfinder of his camera app, and–
Snap.
He examines the photo for several minutes, eyes darting between his meister and the image of her on his phone screen, before nodding subtly to himself.
“Well? How do I look?”
“Perfect.”
His fingers tap, tap, tap away as he uploads the picture to his story, witty caption and all–’She dragged me to a bougie brunch place instead of letting me sleep in’- and doesn’t realize Maka has fallen silent until he’s hit the post button.
When he puts his phone down and looks at her once again, she's staring at him with a strange expression on her face, her bottom lip between her teeth and her cheeks a shade of scarlet nearly rivaling his eyes.
“What?” he asks.
Maka clears her throat, runs a nervous finger idly around one of her pigtails and looks down at her lap.
“N-Nothing.”
At that moment, his phone pings–a reply to his story post from Black Star.
“Bro, you’re such a sap.”
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Happy SoMa Day!!!!
Wrote a silly lil' one-shot for this joyous occasion that you can read here on AO3 if you so choose ✨
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summer lovin' had me a blast remember your sunscreens
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