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#As usual the writing is amazing

spideypoolsupremacy · 5 months

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(Asking as someone who can't stop cringing at my attempts of smut and will probably never write it)

Also kissing doesn't count as smut. You can argue about it BUT IT'S NOT

Also ALSO I know the answer might depend on the fandom u are reading so let's just answer in general alrighty

Reblog for larger sample size blah blah blah (but like really plz)

#ao3 #fanfiction #writing #tumblr polls #feel free to add your opinions in the comments i wanna know #cuz i saw recently someone saying that they feel disapointed if the fic doesn't have smut in the end of a slowburn #and it got me thinkin #because I usually cling onto different things in fics and i do read smut but i never search for it #but now that im trying to write myself im curious how important it is to other people #like I've read some AMAZING fics with no smut in them #and also some amazing ones WITH smut in them #so i dunno

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treasuringizu · 1 year

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“i love you. i love you. i love you.” izuku whispers.

it’s dark, the only source of light being the television in the background, the movie you were watching muted and long forgotten, and a candle flickering on the table, emitting a sweet grapevine scent that infiltrates the air and your noses.

you’re settled on his lap, legs wrapped around him and your chest right against his, so close that you could feel the beats of his heart like it’s your own. his arms are wrapped around your body, strong, squeezing like he would never let you leave even if you wanted to. adjusted to the darkness, you can see his soft, green eyes looking into yours, and you can feel yourself melt, physically into his arms, body and soul given all to him.

“i love you too, izu.” you smile, and you can feel his cheeks turn even hotter under your palms as you run your thumbs over his skin, poking the indents that form when he matches your smile.

he exhales a breath, “wow.”

“what?”

shaking his head, he removes his face from your hands and burrows into your neck. “i’m so happy.”

“aw, baby.” your hands move to his curls, they’re soft when you run your fingers through them. “why?”

“i’m here. with you. you make me so happy sometimes i just don’t know what to do with myself.” he admits, pressing his lips against your neck in a kiss. “i love you so much.”

he’s too good for you. his words make you swoon, and you can’t help but think how lucky you are to have him like this.

“you’re too sweet, izuku.” you nuzzle his hair. “i love you. more than you know.”

the candle continues to burn, and so does your love for each other.

#izuku being amazing as usual #he’s so baby girl #.izuku #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku drabble #izuku midoriya x reader #how many times do they say i love you in this #who knows #making up for my lack of irl affection w this #also procrastinating my assignment #gah #let me get to work #(we all know i won’t get shit done)#.kc writes

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citruslullabies · 1 month

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ur a grown ass woman... that feels uncomfortable writing smut, kinda sad

I am this close to losing my shit I swear to-

WHY DOES IT MATTER SO MUCH, HON??

IM ACTUALLY SO CONFUSED. why does it matter to you people that I am NOT comfortable writing it??

I do not see this much backlash with other writers, so why me?

No. Honest question.

👏why do you people feel that it's NECESSARY to bombard me for smut👏

I do not write it, suck it up buttercup because my rules are not changing

I could recommend you some lovely smut writers, but I don't want you to take your attitude to them.

Some AMAZING people, who by the way, WRITE SMUT. Are the following

For anyone 18+ who is actually CURIOUS and RESPECTFUL who wants this kind of content.

@2faced-fairy

@honeyedbumblebee

@warringwarrioridiot

And a few more (I do not remember a lot of usernames I'm so sorry)

These writers are SO talented and actually WRITE what you are looking for. But no

You have to come to someone who is very insistent on NOT writing it.

You come onto MY blog, and be rude to ME. Because I don't want to write sexual intercourse

Now THAT IS what's sad.

And if you're gonna have this attitude don't even go to those people's pages.

Because if that's the ugly ass attitude you're gonna have with me?

Then don't expect other writers to fulfill your requests.

#its honestly fucking sad #im getting really pissed off at this point #but seriously those guys are amazing #warringwarrioridiot doesnt write that much though #but its usually smut they write

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cy-prian · 5 months

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one thing i love is how attentive will is to james. every time james is in the room, it's like will laser-focuses on the guy. he pays so much attention to the little details, james' micro-expressions.

but at the end of dark heir, there's none of that. will doesn't notice if james' lips are quirking, doesn't notice if james looks and sounds genuine. doesn't notice how james is parroting his every command.

he's so caught up in how it feels to finally, finally, have someone on his side, someone who knows the truth and still chooses to stand by him, to believe in him and the person he could be.

that he just. doesn't see it. doesn't see it at all when any other time, he probably would have. he doesn't see it, and when he finally does, it's too late.

#dark heir #dark heir spoilers #will kempen #james st clair #will x james #what is their ship name anyway #also as always im in love with cs pacat and his writing #what an amazing writer #to make it a point to skip over all of will's usual observations to just focus everything on how he's feeling #as a way to show the audience how completely overwhelming it all is for will #my fave fr #mine

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eldritch-ambrosia · 1 month

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Question Merlin fans who read fanfiction!

When you’re reading a ship with a queer pairing that’s in the canon era (Medieval Camelot), do you prefer that the queer part of the relationship is acknowledged/delved into or do you prefer to have it treated like a relationship that would be more common and the story focuses more on the romance aspect than the queer romance aspect?

#bbc merlin #bbc merthur #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merwaine #fanfiction #gwaine #morgwen #guinevere #morgana #as a queer person #I don’t have a preference #But I find that when I’m writing it the queer aspect is usually brushed over in favor of the romance #So I wanted to see if that’s something people would prefer if I explored that more #or what they usually like to see in Merlin stories #because I’ve read some pretty amazing ones that go either way

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quinloki · 1 month

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Canon Characters vs OC vs x Reader

Disclaimer: This is just my two cents, and my perspective on things, and I'm not trying to lay down the law for everyone. I needed to just put this to words though, in order to sleep.

I was thinking about this because of a post I saw, and some, we'll say, kind of useless comments associated with the post. Mean-spirited stuff.

Normally, in one ear and out the other, but the vibes just kicked me off down a rabbit hole of sorts an I wanted to try to put some of my thoughts to words.

First, some style vibes:

Canon x Canon Canon/Canon stories are, to me, like reading an episode of that show. I'm sitting down in front of a TV or whatever, and I'm experiencing the story As A Viewer. I like this style because I don't really have to expend much energy and I just kind of roll with whatever's happening. Generally some sort of 3rd person perspective.

OC x canon OC/Canon stories are like being on a carnival ride. I'm sitting in a car on a roller-coaster, and maybe the OC is sitting next me. I'm experiencing the story more deeply than strictly canon stories, but my connection with the OC is no deeper than say, my connection with Katniss Everdeen when I read The Hunger Games. Sometimes 3rd person, sometimes first person.

Reader x canon Reader/Canon (or Reader x/ OC) is like putting on a VR helmet. I don't get much physical input about the "Reader OC" because I'm experiencing the story through their eyes. I don't expect the reader to be me, but there's a bigger feeling of immersion to be had. Some description might happen cause it's relevant to the story, and it's still a type of ride, I can't jump the rails on the roller coaster, after all. (Even with a VN you still follow the tracks). Sometimes first person, sometimes second person (I'm partial to 2nd person perspective, but that's just me).

I love Fan Fiction, I love it. All of it, and man even more than anything, what I love is that I'm going to dislike 80% of it. Because that 80% was written for someone who is not me. (Hell, that number's probably closer to 99% if we're looking at ALL fandoms, but I digress).

Second - The VENT:

What got me the most in the post that prompted this, was someone saying "Bring back the Mary Sue OCs!" and then they went on to describe something more detailed, and I just -

Look, respectfully, fuck you.

The point is, you're not going to be happy no matter what. Whether it's "mary sue" OCs, or x readers, or alternative universes, or a ship you don't like, you're going to find something to be unhappy about.

Cause people have been bitching about all styles of fan fiction since the first "You've Got Mail" chimed in 1991. And until 1998 and ff.net you really had to hunt for it, and until 2007 and Ao3 the idea of tagging a fic for any reason wasn't really a thing. Every click was a surprise! \o/

I just have seen the same song and dance a dozen times. It's exhausting. People become okay with OCs and decide x readers are the enemy, and before that OCs were *all* Mary Sues and cringe and people who made OCs were the enemy, and before OCs people who wrote even a little OOC were the enemy, and people who wrote AUs were the enemy, and you can write fan fic but it HAS to be Canon Compliant, and everyone MUST be in-character at all times - "They would not fucking say that" was the enemy.

Look, just please - please - in any capacity, stop it with the "All X style of story telling is crap" mindset. There's over a dozen different ways to do x readers alone. I know 20 x reader writers and I don't think any of us have the same style, preferences, or vibes.

I've had a lot of comments along the lines of "I thought I hated x readers, but I really loved this." on a few different fics I've written. Sometimes it's not the style of the fic, sometimes it's the style of the writer, and my Brother In Christ - you're going to have to read some awful shit to shuffle through the thousands of writers out there to find the vibes that resonate with you.

Ostracizing entire swathes of fan fic because you need something to be "The Enemy" so you can lift up something else, and then bitching you can't find anything new to read seems like a personal problem.

And I know y'all are scrolling by TONS of posts that don't interest you, every day, as a matter of course. So don't give me that "clogging up the tag" BS, because we deserve to be here same as anyone else in the fandom.

#quin grumbles #I'm so aggravated I don't even really know how to tag this #like almost 30 years of it I'm just so done #I just wonder what amazing stories we're not getting #cause of some fucker using Mary Sue to belittle someone #or someone beating someone else over the head with plot armor because their protag survived something terrible?#How many “Oh.” moments have been missed because someone criticized the very concept of reader insert?#I'm way past my usual bedtime so I'm just rambling at this point #and I am being meaner than I'd like #but JFC #I'm not going to let people's bullshit opinions stop me or anyone else from writing if I can avoid it.#Write what you want #gush about it #talk about it #TELL ME ABOUT IT #IDGAF if it's cringe or overpowered or broken or flawless or an OC or a reader with a name or WHATEVER #If it brings you joy #then do it #and if people are too mean to scroll by it when it's not their thing #and then complain like they're entitled to do so #block 'em.#and tell me who they are so I can block them too #then write more #cause I promise it'll bring someone else joy too

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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hello, victim of my sudden blues because i started listening to sad music. i just wanna talk about some intricacies of reader's and dottore's relationship bc i haven't been feeling well 🫠🫠 dont mind this too much i think it sounds kinda dumb n it's kinda like just word vomit.. anyways, hurt/comfort, reader suffering from uhhh issues?? insecure?? idk how to word it

when he was young, zandik had to learn.

he already learns a lot. he has knowledge far beyond the average human mind at such a young age. but he still had to learn. learn things what he initially thought utterly useless and not of his concern.

he had to learn how to be human.

how could this be? zandik is human (he plans to not be one, though, in the far future).

even as a child, he wasn't treated much like a human. depending on your iteration, zandik may or may not have parents who love him. still, it doesn't save him from the outside world. how his neighbors looked at him in scorn, how they talk about him behind his back, whispering and murmuring until his ears nearly bleeds. how the other kids pick on him, give him bruises for no good reason. ignoring his cries for them to stop, ignoring his frustration and confusion. why do they call him a monster when he simply thirsts for knowledge? isn't sumeru known as the nation of wisdom? why must he be the village's object of hatred when he was merely a child. other children beat him up and call him a 'monster' when he hasn't done anything wrong.

even though he was young.

he was vulnerable, impressionable. undeniably human.

he was treated to be otherwise but the people that surrounds him. and he has accepted it as he grows older.

after all, a child mimics what they see. a child, born human, learned to be a monster.

but there you were, teaching him, reminding him, that he was, in fact, human.

you've barged into his life (uninvited) and made an irremovable impression. you've claimed a spot into the void of his existence that fills him whole, and once you're gone, it was like he was incomplete. like a barnacle that stuck onto his skin and refuses to let go until he dies.

he learned, through you, that he is allowed to feel; to cry in the arms of someone who cares, to laugh at something he finds funny, to smile despite his sharp teeth, to look at something in pure awe though his eyes were crimson red—to study, to be passionate, to disregard those who wishes nothing but suffering to him, to sleep without a worry, to care, to love.

to feel like he's a monster, yet still be embraced, to be kissed, to be loved.

to feel human, to be human.

but he hasn't learned enough.

it hasn't been more clear when you suddenly broke into tears right in front of him whilst you were doing a group project at the akademiya.

he watches as tears spill from your eyes, head hung low as you frantically wipe them off. you sob harder when you see the papers you've worked so hard on be soaked. you expected zandik to yell at you for ruining your project, for stalling progress, for crying.

but it unsettles you more when he says nothing.

he was thinking, that's for sure. but you don't know what. he doesn't appear to be angry, nor happy either. but he's thinking, and you want to cry harder because of it.

you start to apologize. laugh at yourself because—gosh, you're crying in the middle of a project. so ridiculous, you're wasting his time and—

zandik was lost.

you didn't cry as much as far as he could remember. sure, when you were kids, you cried. it's normal, you were a child. as you grew older, you cried less. complained less as well. you stopped talking about complications you have between your parents, or your siblings, or your other relatives. you stopped mentioning how your own friends began to deviate from you ever since you started hanging out with him. you grew silent when you hear them murmur about you whenever you stood next to him.

he thought you were fine. you never talked to him about it. you always did cater to his needs a lot more than yours; he hasn't heard you talk something that you feel negatively for years. it was like a flip has been switched inside his head. why do you not talk to him? not complain? not cry like you used to?

zandik knows that humans can never achieve perfection. each and every individual has flaws. he himself has flaws (that he has yet to remove), and even so, you loved him. with his imperfections and madness.

you were too perfect. to his eyes at least. ever smiling, reminding him of his needs, helping him with his research, indulging him with whatever he wants.

and so he asks, as tears stains your cheeks.

and you spill, because you were bursting with emotion. with sadness, guilt, frustration, and fear. bursting with imperfection. you confess you stopped seeking for his help to not inconvenience him. to not hold him back. he was busy, and you didn't want to be a burden.

zandik mind blanks.

well, all throughout his life, he has never once thought you were a burden. even if you tried to pose yourself as this perfect, flawless, assistant. he, as a scholar, make mistakes. it is how he learns, to improve, to grow. so why can't you? why can't you screw up? appear weak and vulnerable before his eyes? he knows you trusts him, but why do you hold yourself back?

maybe because he has never noticed—or tried to. he mostly focuses on himself and his research, and while you were a part of his life, he has regrettably paid little mind to your needs. you did everything for him, and he has yet to learn to do the same.

you've comforted him, but zandik doesn't know how to comfort you. it was maddening for him, really. to grow restless as you cry, wanting to do something yet not knowing. how does he comfort you? this is the first time you've cried in front of him after all those years. does he wipe your tears away? does he give you words of encouragement? does he do this? does he do that?

he doesn't know. he hates that he doesn't know. he hates that he never tried to know.

guilt—such a bitter taste in his tongue.

he has never felt any guilt to the people he has tortured with his tainted hands. he has never felt guilt when he burned his village—a distant memory—down to the ground.

it was a sickening feeling.

he never wants to feel it again.

he abhors it.

he feels disgusting.

wretched.

human.

of course, it was only you who can make him feel human. only you who can make him feel these horrible sensations in his heart, sinking down to his bones. love, happiness, joy, fear, anger, sadness, guilt—he loathes it. it makes him feel weak.

but he accepts. only for you, only to you.

he is willing to learn, he wants to learn.

he wants to know how to lighten the weight that burdens your shoulders. he wants to know how to make you smile brightly like you always had. he wants to know what makes you feel sad, to let you cry into his arms, to tell him every thing that bothers you.

he wants to understand.

teach him to understand.

so zandik may not know what will cheer you up this moment.

but he tries. and if he fails, he will try again.

he stands up from the floor, your hands in his, and he leads you outside your shared flat. to a clearing, with water streaming from a river, with flora blooming everywhere. the grass damp, the winds howling.

it was a chilly night.

the stars twinkled up in the skies, forming constellations that you could recognize with ease.

zandik sits you on the grass next to him, and he wraps his arms around you.

you could hear crickets chirping into the night, the lights around the city dimming as the people go to sleep. silent chatter from the people who pass by, and the sounds of leaves dancing into the breeze.

his hands rubbing your back, his chin on top of your head. it was how you hug him usually, when you cuddle. your face buried into his chest, breathing in sync.

it was calm.

soothing.

warm, especially in his arms.

and you sob harder than you ever had in your entire life.

it was like a dam had broken, and now the tears now fall endlessly. you cling onto zandik as you cry. he listens to you babble about everything that ails you, how you feel, and your insecurities. you cry and cry, and he listens, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his face soft. pained.

understandably so, he wasn't used to... whatever this was.

he was so unsure, but he tries.

you aren't much comforted, too many things burden you.

your negative thoughts won't disappear just because he finally decided to pay more attention to you. buried beneath your fears and insecurities lies anger. you hate that you are more understanding toward him. you really can't blame yourself for favoring him over the years.

but you could always read him so easily. you can tell.

he wants to learn. learn more about you, learn how to be better. to be true to himself, to be a lover, to be your forever partner—to be human.

to you, and only for you.

zandik will try, and learn, if only for you.

zandik learns from his mistakes, he will be sure to never let you succumb to your own sufferings like this ever again.

it will probably take years for zandik to say the words he wants to say.

but he clings to you so tightly, his hands gripping hard onto your clothes, his adam's apple trembling and his eyes twinkled with the stars above—im sorry.

and he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing a kiss on your temple, and listening to every word you say. his heart thumping in his chest, his hands caressing your skin—i love you.

and you know it. of course you do. because it's only to you that zandik will ever be like this. vulnerable, weak,

utterly

unbearably

and painfully

human.

you teach with your love,

and his heart will learn.

the stars that witness every passing moment bears testament of your love.

and when you look up high in the sky, with dottore holding your hand, peering from the balcony of the white expanse of snezhnaya, while he rambles on and on about his recent experiment to you, it reminds you of that night. hundreds of years ago.

"dottore," you call his name, breaking him from his trance, looking at you with utmost attention. you smile at him, scooting closer as you bury yourself deep into his harbinger coat (that he handed to you due to the cold). "my zandik," you coo,

and he grins, his hands now lay on your waist as he tilts his head curiously. "yes, my dear?" your heart soars at the pet name, your giddiness evident to him.

"oh, nothing," you sigh, hands reaching up to his face and slowly taking off the mask that covers his beautiful, scarred face. "just remembered that night."

you bring it up often whenever you get nostalgic. and every time, you laugh at the face he makes—a big frown, his brows furrowed.

"i'm just glad i broke down that day," you admit, playing with his soft, cyan hair and kissing the long stand that was curled around your finger. "gods know what would happen if i didn't. i wouldn't have complete power over you like i do now."

his scowls at that, straightening his back to tower over you, an attempt to appear threatening. "complete power? over me?" he scoffs, "preposterous."

"if so, then you can sleep in your office tonight." you hum, standing on your tippy-toes to level with him. "you wouldn't mind that, right? you're the oh so powerful il dottore, after all!"

"... don't make me..." he suddenly sulks, his face finding your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. you laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

"i was kidding." you huff, carding your fingers through his hair. "i wouldn't want to miss a night without you."

"good to know." he sighs, pleased, "i love you, my dear."

you smile once more, admiring the starts that have watched over you from the day you were born, and a hundred years later.

forever bearing witness of your love for a monster named il dottore, and your lover, a human, named zandik.

"yeah," you close your eyes, "love you too."

oh yeah do you mind me sending a few more when i get a thought in my mind? i don't wanna swarm your inbox, so it's okay! i just wanna distract myself with dottore 💥💥anyways thanks for listening to my thing, i like talking about stuff like these :3 i think i got carried away tho heehoo

oh mY GOSH.... I THINK THIS IS THE LONGEST ASK I'VE EVER GOTTEN BUT I AM NOT COMPLAINING WHATSOEVER. I LOVE THIS SM, IT IS NOT DUMB AT ALL ;(( <333 I'm sorry you haven't been feeling well, I hope you take it easy if possible okay? And of course I don't mind you sending more asks, whether it's just regular chatting or writing I'm happy to receive them :) I'm happy to listen to your things hehe 🫶 But. Forgive me this is already SO good already my additions may be short and not very good,, 😭

OH STOP... the idea of child Zandik having to "teach" himself how to become human is heartwrenching. It's not something one would ever think to do, much less a child... the saddest part is that he was born a human, a curious, innocent one initially, though viewed as completely different - a monster - and that is what he shall become if everyone wished it on him so dearly. But oh, of course you had to come in and mess him up. Mess up his heart. His mind. His body. His thoughts. Feelings. Emotions. Even a bit of cognition. You were not part of the plan. The acceptance of being treated by others like less than dirt, the acceptance of being unloved and hated, the acceptance of refusing any kind of remote kindness or affection. You changed everything. You changed him. You taught him. But... he doesn't think you've ever prepared him for a situation like this.

Crying in front of Zandik out of nowhere, will probably be a horrible decision on your part. You have no idea how he'll react, what will happen, if anything will go down, how you'll possibly recover from the embarrassment or explain yourself. But the harder you try to push the thought out of your mind, the more your hand gets wobbly, your body heats up and trembles, your throat closes, and soon enough your vision is blurry, and fresh hot tears are pattering onto the desk. You know Zandik has noticed from the way his pen no longer scraped against the paper, but you do not dare look at him, for you are not sure if you could face him. But not a peep comes from your lover, making your heart pound almost painfully at the silence beside your sobs that you were desperately trying to control. How mortifying, you thought. Embarrassing. You don't know what you were even doing, how stupid you were being. You play it off with laughter because of course you do, what else were you to do? Actually explain? No, of course not.

Zandik, on the other hand, had no clue what was even going on. He does remember a few instances of your tears. Because you fell and scraped your knee, because someone yelled at you, kid things. But this was completely different. These were real, serious tears. And so the scholar thinks. You were always indulging him and his rants, his disdain for other people and how they irritated him so. But it is now he realizes he hasn't heard you say anything remotely similar in a very long time. What makes you upset? Angry? The answer was, that he doesn't know, for you have never confided in him in a long time. You are the only person he should know everything about, and yet he doesn't. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in him. He wonders if you've been feeling a similar yet different kind of uncomfortableness for a while now without his knowledge.

Zandik must know. And that mere inquiry is all you need for words to start tumbling out your mouth, some probably incoherent but you just needed to get them out. Were they nice? No, not at all, and he doesn't understand. How could you feel all these things when you are you? The one person he acknowledges and loves for all of their worth? How could he not notice all these things bottling up in you too? And it's now that Zandik has come to understand, he is not the... best lover. When you agreed to be in a romantic relationship, you knew he would not be a typical or traditional man. He would not court you, not be romantic or sappy, would not waste time with things of that nature. Though... listening to you has nothing to do with that. Zandik wants you to be able to air all your grievances to him. Will he lend a listening ear? Yes. Will he be able to comfort you, however, that is a different story.

Zandik does not wish for anything anymore - he believes if he wants something, he will work to seize it with his very hands - but at this moment he wishes he knew the concept of comforting. This concept, by itself, would be useless to him normally, but you... you deserve it. And yet he can't give it to you, like you've given it to him many times. He despises it. The foreign feeling of guilt is one he has grown to hate the most. Though despite how much it annoys him, he will endure it. For you. Solely for you. Because you are worth that. You are worth him doing many things he wouldn't normally do. Things that make him grumble and complain but he'll end up doing anyway. Things that result in you smiling and laughing and trying to throw your arms around him. And so from that instance, he resolves himself to this journey. He will understand, whether it takes a few years or a decade or even perhaps centuries. He will be sure to understand.

When Zandik takes you by the hand you're unsure but go along with it anyway, the other still pathetically trying to wipe the tears from your face. He takes you outside for some reason and though your vision was blurred the scenery still looked as lovely as ever, the view you loved so dearly after waking up and your first view being of Zandik's face, and then the scene outside the window. Though you don't worry about that, you're still confused by Zandik's actions. But then he pulls you to the grass with him and just embraces you, and you can't help but stiffen for a moment because... you really weren't expecting this. But your lover continues his movements anyway. You feel so comforted, and that kind of environment is all you need to let your deepest and darkest troubles, concerns, worries, insecurities, whatever you need to say, out. The idea of Zandik doing this for you was still lodged at the very back of your mind, and you knew that Zandik himself was probably not sure of what the hell he was doing, but neither of you cared at this moment. Both of you were trying, trying hard, for each other. Nothing will ever get better immediately. Everything takes time, lots of time, even. But effort matters as well. It's still not enough, but if he tries, if he learns, maybe everything will be okay. For now, you'll be satisfied with his unspoken words and actions, for this is all he can muster now too. No one will ever understand, they don't need to understand the two of you anyway - not when the stars are shining down so brightly, illuminating the love you two have for each other.

When you look at Dottore, sometimes you can't help but reminisce to the older times. When you two were just simple scholars with big dreams. And now, many of those dreams have been fulfilled, and Dottore has become a changed man, but you can't help but think. Especially that night. It holds a special place in your heart.

You can't help but want to be as close as possible to him. You'll take every single piece of his attention if you could, and won't say no. You might end up stealing this coat of his forever though, surely he has enough that he won't notice if one is missing.

Whenever you bring up that night, Dottore already knows what you're going to say and do. You'll always pepper his scarred face with kisses, play with his hair, and then tease him about oh how immensely powerful you were over him, never missing a beat. You never seem to let it go, no matter how many times he corrects you in your thinking. And then you'll always playfully banter back, and then he uncharacteristically gives in at this rare moment of tenderness, and then you always forgive him, as both of you already know how this goes. Yet, it never seems to grow old.

You think... the sky of Teyvat may be fake, but, the significance and beautifulness of it to you will always remain important and real in your heart and memories.

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #dottore love notes <3 #why did this have me in tears by the end #literally amazing writing as per usual kai...... POOKIE U R SO TALENTED #dottore comfort so real my fav

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flutistbyday2020 · 2 months

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Angel Dust's Birthday

It was Angel's birthday.

Charlie is determined to let Angel Dust just how much he is loved.

Y'all. I broke my own heart writing this, so be warned.

Angsty fluff that *should* make you feel a little better.

I'm new to the fandom and I wrote this in a few hours. It's only been edited once, so I apologize for the errors.

In which Angel Finds out just how much he's loved.

Angsty fluff.

Warnings: heartache

Word count: 2217

I messed around with the timeline a little. Moonlight Serenade wasn't recorded and released until the 1940s, but I love it SO much. It was my great grandmother's favorite song and I feel like a child when I hear it. I suggest listening to it! Also, I forgot what a BITCH it is to format on Ao3. Sorry, y'all.

“Fucking Val and his stupid mother fucking games,” Angel mutters as he stomps into the Hotel.

Valentino knew what an important day it was and was still an ass to Angel.

As much as Angel didn’t want to admit it, Val had hurt his feelings and he wanted to drink it off.

He stomps past the lobby but Cherri Bomb stands in his way, arms on her hips, wide smile on her face.

“Hi, Angel! What are you doing? How was your day?” she all but screeches.

[[More]]]

Angel involuntarily grimaces, pushing Cherri away as she attempts to stop him from moving forward.

“What? I’m fine, Cherri,” he hisses. “What are you on about? Let me through.”

Cherri pushes back, gaining some momentum.

“Seriously, Cherri, I’ve had a long day and I just want to get drunk.”

She grins. “Even better,” she said. “Let’s go blow something up--”

“I’m not in the mood,” Angel yells, puffing up to all eight feet.

Cherri’s grin falters. “Just trying to cheer you up,” she grumbles, still attempting to stop Angel but failing.

Angel was fueled by a shit day and the need for alcohol.

“Wait--” Cherri grabs his arm, but he pulls away.

“Shit! Fuck! AHHHH!! Mother fucker!”

He rushes to the source of the noise-- the kitchen.

He goes through the door frame and is greeted by a six-foot flame shooting from the oven; Charlie frantically waves her arms, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Lucifer came rushing in. “What is--”

He took in the scene and with a snap of his fingers, the flame was gone, but a pitiful Princess was left.

She looked at Angel and burst into tears.

“What the fuck?” Angel gets out before Charlie throws herself on him, clinging to him with a death grip.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out between sobs. “I wanted it to be perfect! But I can’t even make you a cake!” She wails at the top of her lungs.

He patted her head the way one would pat a bomb. He gives Lucifer a “please help me” look and Lucifer takes in a breath.

“She wanted to surprise you with a cake and a party.” Lucifer grimaces and pulls Charlie from Angel.

“Uh, Vaggie? Can you come here?” he calls.

Vaggie comes in a moment later. “What the fuck?”

Lucifer drops the still blubbering Princess into her girlfriend’s arms and gives a tight smile.

Vaggie pulls Charlie closer, petting her and pushing her hair back.

He walks to the oven and pulls out the cake pan. “I don’t know how,” he says, hands on hips, “but she managed to set the oven on fire,” he picks up the oven pan and the cake batter drips out. “And failed to cook the cake.”

Vaggie's eyes widen and Charlie wails louder.

“I’m suck a fuck up!” she sobs.

“No, you’re not!” Angel, Lucifer, and Vaggie say.

It takes some doing, but eventually, Charlie is calmed down enough to proceed with the party. She leads Angel to a parlor and half-heartedly says, “Surprise!”

The room is decorated from top to bottom in shades of pink and white. Streamers, table cloths, napkins, cups, and even a banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Angel Dust!” written in immaculate handwriting.

Niffty comes running in. “Do you like the sign? I made it. And I helped decorate. And I--”

Angel smiles at Niffty. “I love it.”

She beams and Angel looks around the room and notices a very empty spot where a cake should be. He lets out a puff of air.

Charlie notices the change in his face and her face falls. “I’m sorry, Angel.”

“Now, now!” Alastor sings out as he appears from the shadows. “This is a birthday party and there is no frowning at a party!”

He pinches Charlie’s cheek and she forces a smile.

“Hey, asshole,” Angel calls out. “She’s feeling rough. Leave her be.”

“Would that be any way to talk to someone who helped plan your party?” The Radio Demon says, an ever-present smile on his face.

With a snap of his fingers, a cake appears on the table. It’s 10” in diameter, pink, covered in a spider motif, with a spider web from frosting on the top, and “Happy Birthday” elegantly scrolled in the middle.

Angel balks. “Uh,” he coughs out. “Thanks, Smiles.”

“You are more than welcome!” An audience cheers from Alastor’s microphone and there are eye rolls around the room.

Husk walks over with a martini glass with pink and blue liquid, a sugared rim, and topped with cotton candy. He smiles. “A special cocktail for the birthday boy.”

Angel takes it and sips gingerly. He smiles. “This is amazing, Whiskers!”

Husk narrows his eyes in false anger, but his smile gives him away.

The group migrates to the couch and the conversation becomes lively. Fat Nuggets finds his way to his owner, Niffty perches on Alastor’s shoulders, and Vaggie sits close to Charlie. They laugh and share their favorite memories of Angel, much to his chagrin.

After half an hour and three cotton candy martinis, Charlie jumps up and claps her hands once. “Okay!” She looks at Angel. “Would you like to do cake or presents first?”

“Cake,” Angel says decidedly.

Lucifer dims the lights and ignites the candles on the cake with a flick of his wrist.

“Show off,” Angel murmurs under his breath.

“I heard that!”

“Dad!” Charlie admonishes, ushering Angel to the table with the cake and sitting him down in a chair.

Vaggie pulls out her phone and the group sings.

Angel smiles and blows out his candles. He wishes for freedom but is only in his thoughts for mere seconds as Lucifer turns the lights back on and Charlie is cutting the cake.

Angel gets the first piece and the group waits until the first bite is taken before they join.

“This is delicious,” Angel moans.

“Surprised?” Alastor asks, smiling.

“Well, yeah,” Vaggie answers for Angel.

“It was my mother’s recipe.” Alastor taps his head, indicating he had the recipe memorized.

They finish their cake and migrate to the couches. Angel sits cautiously and is handed a small box, four inches wide and two inches tall.

To my favorite loser

-Husker

Angel opens the box. It was a custom deck of cards with pictures from Voxtagram-- one of him with Charlie, one of him and Fat nuggets, one of the whole crew after Sir Pentious’ first week-- Angel Dust was glaring the whole time-- and one of him and Husk after they had bonded.

“I know that you’ll memorize the cards and it will be even easier to count this deck, but--” Angel cuts Husk off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Thanks, Husk,” Angel whispers. “I love them.” He smiles. “But we--” he points a finger between himself and the cat demon, “are never playing with them.”

Husk laughs brightly at Angel’s smirk.

Angel’s heart felt a little lighter. Maybe this won’t be so bad, he thought. He appreciated the gift, knowing how much time and effort Husk had put into it.

Vaggie hands him a small, rectangular package. He opens it gingerly and takes out a necklace.

It’s gold with a short chain, M <3 A, in the middle. Two gold letters and one rose gold heart.

Angel’s heart stutters. He knew instantly that they were the initials for Anthony and Molly.

“How--” he asks but is cut off by another present thrust in his arms.

Charlie smiles brightly.

Angel opens the package carefully, now wary of presents.

He opens a plain white box and sees a carousel with four horses on gold poles. The top and bottom are pink and white striped with gold motifs decorating the edges and a gold flag at the top.

“Turn it over,” Charlie encourages.

Angel does and looks blankly at the knob before turning it. He releases the knob, and “Moonlight Serenade” by Glen Miller, his mother’s favorite song, starts playing. Not the usual music-box noise, either. A real recording.

He gulps.

His heart stops and then starts again, pumping faster. His eyes dart to Charlie and his heart breaks. He blinks several times, trying to gather his thoughts; trying to stop the tears from falling.

Husker notices and there is another martini in Angel’s hand in an instant.

Charlie’s smile falters and she looks concerned. She looks at Vaggie nervously.

Angel asks, “How do you know about my human life?”

Lucifer clears his throat and blushes. “I may or may not have peaked at your human life," he says, dragging out the first 'may'.

Angel guffaws. “You can do that?!”

“I’m the King of Hell,” Lucifer snorts. “And a fallen angel. I have powers.”

Angel rolls his eyes, but his breath is taken away when Lucifer opens a portal and Angel’s human life plays in black in white, like an old film. Him taking his first steps, learning how to ride a bike, giggling with Molly, his first day of school, his first friend; all on display, conjuring up memories and feelings he thought he’d forgotten and repressed.

Angel tears up. “Gee,” he chokes out but doesn’t continue because the images shift to Molly.

She’s crying at Angel’s funeral and Angel stands up, yelling at Lucifer.

“You think I wanna see that?” he screams.

“Patience, Angel Dust,” Lucifer chides in a non-negotiable tone.

Angel sits, but crosses both sets of arms, ready to stand up and storm out at any given moment.

The images shift to a man comforting Molly: a mutual friend, Thomas, after Molly faints.

The movie forwards to Molly and Thomas’ wedding.

Angel tears up. “She looks so beautiful.”

“And happy,” Charlie says gently.

“And happy,” Angel echoes softly.

The movie shifts again, but now it’s in color. There are two children on the screen, laughing.

Angel sits up. “Who’s that?”

Lucifer can’t help the sigh that comes out of his mouth. “Your niece and nephew.”

The movie stops and Angel stands up, going toward the images, and tries to touch it, but his hand goes through. He pulls both sets of arms around him and looks at Lucifer forlornly.

Lucifer’s heart breaks. He can relate. The “what if” can be too much sometimes. “Your niece, her name is Mary.” Lucifer smiles brightly and more images of Mary flit through the portal. She’s laughing with her twin, taking her first steps, learning how to ride her bike.

Angel smiles ruefully. “And the boy?” he whispers.

Lucifer clears his throat. “Anthony Martin the Second.” It’s soft and Angel almost didn’t hear the name.

He turns around slowly and can’t help the tear that leaks out of his eyes. He swipes at them quickly and looks around the room. Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor are all engaged in the movie and don’t see. Angel locks eyes with Husk and is given a knowing nod. Angel blushes to the top of his head.

He looks back at Lucifer. “So I have a niece and a nephew.” He smiles.

Lucifer continues the movie, showing Molly and Thomas growing older while the twins grow up. The group watches as Anthony and Mary get married and start their own lives. There is an Anthony Martin the third, then an Anthony Martin the fourth.

Angel’s eyes get wider. “Wow. I didn’t realize how much I was idolized.” He spits out the last word.

Charlie places a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Your sister loved you and talked highly of you.”

Angel grimaces, but his face softens when he sees his sister on her deathbed.

Angel gets as close to the portal as he can without going through it. Fat Nuggets nudges at Angel Dust’s feet and is picked up. Angel hugs him closely.

Molly looks at her children and grandchildren, smiling until she falls unconscious.

“She passed away ten years ago,” Lucifer offers gently. “She went straight to heaven.”

Angel looks forlorn again. “Sorry, Molls,” he whispers, accent dropping just slightly. He wipes his eyes and turns toward his friends. “Thank you,” he says, voice warbling. “Val was such an ass today--”

Angel is cut off when Charlie throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. “We love you so much, Anthony,” she says, her voice also unsteady. “I just wanted to give you something good.”

Angel hugs back with a fierceness that Charlie didn’t expect. Fat Nuggets protests and drops to the ground, looking plussed by the intrusion.

Angel likes that Charlie uses his real name. They hug for a long while, everyone quietly watching.

Lucifer snaps, and the banner changes to say, “Happy birthday, Anthony!”

Lucifer’s heart swells with pride as he looks at his daughter. He did raise a wonderful little girl-- no, woman.

Angel is still hugging Charlie when “Moonlight Serenade” plays through the portal.

He turns and sees his mom dancing in the living room, holding a small boy—his lip quivers.

He turns and sees his friends standing in front of him, small, hesitant smiles on their faces.

Lucifer hands him a DVD and smiles knowingly. Angel takes it and hugs it to his chest before setting it with the rest of his presents.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank all of you.”

Then Anthony walks over to Charlie. “My lady,” he says in an exaggerated accent, bowing to the Princess. “May I have this dance?”

Charlie chuckles and curtsies. “Of course,” she replied in the same exaggerated accent.

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

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Speaking of Tyrest. A lot of people forget that he treated Pharma with absolute disdain, not only using him as a test subject for a clearly painful mass murder machine, but talking to Pharma like he saw him as nothing but some henchman to order around that was nothing more than a 'diseased cripple' if Tyrest hadn't come to rescue him.

Like it really is an interesting background dynamic with some curious implications, but when you look at fandom posts from around that issue/the years after, for some reason people just saw "Pharma worked with Tyrest" and concluded Pharma is a card carrying bigot ksjfnskxkd. Like yeah Pharma didn't do anything to stop Tyrest but it seems his main beef with the Autobots was with Ratchet in particular and maybe a general disdain for his ex-comrades. As well as continuing to hate Decepticons which like, not even the "good Autobots" are immune to (even in Pharma's introduction, First Aid says in his journal something like "yeah we all hate Decepticons, but Pharma REALLY hates them"). And despite what fandom likes to construe there's really no evidence in IDW1 that Autobots and Decepticons are different "races" or "types" of Cybertronians, so Pharma hating Decepticons really isn't a bigotry/robot racism thing. And instead probably has something to do with, idk, the 4 million year long galaxy-spanning blood feud war, or maybe being blackmailed and tortured into insanity by the Biggest and Most Decepticon-y of Decepticons.

Tyrest treated Pharma like trash, the other Decepticons working for Tyrest (how come no one ever brings that up btw) also hated him, so if anything it seems that Pharma was more of a rogue element only staying with Tyrest bc he was his best option and probably had no way to even escape.

I'm glad that at least in recent years the fandom has acquired a keen reading eye and good taste to finally recognize Pharma as the (accidentally) complex character he is instead of making him some posh, racist Starscream clone SHSJDGSGDH

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #yeah i'm apologisting again i guess my mental health is somewhat okay again dkdkkxckkddkd #(my followers seeing me post about pharma) nature is healing #there's also that line where pharma says 'maybe i can help' and skids is like #'fuck off and hope we don't beat you to death after this is over'#they didnt know that pharma was a test subject of the killswitch but wow #that's prolly one of the most out of pocket moments of the story that ive never seen anyone mention #honestly that moment is why i think JRO didnt intend pharma to be That Deep #i feel like that sort of 'not even other autobots like him' treatment is something #that comes up a lot in JRO's villain writing. or like asshole behavior towards some characters #is just plot events proceeding as usual. nothing to see just villains getting their due #tho tbh pharma's character in general suffers from the problem that he's so closely related to a main/major characyer #that it wouldve made way more sense for him to be written in earlier #so all his connections w/ ratchet and the plot had to be established retroactively #also speaking of 'asshole behavior excused bc it's towards a villain'#all those times when people are like (fucking amazing piece of medical research by pharma)#'then he started murdering his patients. what a piece of shit'#like idk it could have been intentional but imo all my readings of pharma were not really intended by JRO #and i'm fully just headcanoning and constructing theories on my own #like pharma was simply not important enough or a major enough character to get fleshed ojt #so basically we get enough pieces of him to establish continuity and a general timeline of his life and thats all

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coffeeshib · 8 months

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saw a tiktok saying they felt something fruity between two women on a tv show. started said tv show expecting to have another non-canon ship. they kissed. now im obsessed, don't know if it's your kind of thing but in case it is it's called special ops: lioness hehehe

omg what a COINCIDENCE i saw a tweet recently about that show, planned to only watch an ep or two today but i ended up not being able to close my laptop for hours straight & found myself now caught up to the most recent ep.... & i finished ep 7 just an hr ago,,

dude the show is so good & intense?? the plot the characters the ACTING, i'm invested i need the last ep now