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diodellet · 1 year

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hypothermia (capitano x fem!reader)

Note: Characters depicted and featured are based on Herbarium (I imagine that this short fic takes place sometime in part IX. whopperflower) so go and read that before you read this fic!! content warnings: -afab/female!reader, yandere!capitano -dubcon (darling isn't in the right mental space at the start of the act but grows to enjoy it) -chastising self-talk and emotional turmoil from darling's abusive backstory (last reminder to read Herbarium^^!!) ++oral, hair pulling, riding, size difference, lots of lovey dovey hurt/comfort feelings and some nude intimacy in the bath word count: 5.1k words minors do not interact

The pad of your index finger toys with the edge of the page, turning it this way and that, while making sure not to leave a single crease or wrinkle on the paper. How many times have you reread the same line, skimming it again and again yet never quite absorbing the material? Your attention, despite itself, drifts back to his earlier words.

"The Maier son is dead."

How many were dead because of you? How many had he injured in the name of protecting you? You don't dare to glance away from the book you had sat in your lap. Nor do you dare to raise your head. You continue to feign the fact that you were interested in the story in front of you. Some story about a peasant girl attending a ball, reuniting with her first love who became a knight at the same time enamoring a rich nobleman who—

You don't jump at the sound of him calling your name. Instead you stubbornly keep your attention down, on the girl being tugged back and forth between the two men, the narrative likening her to a hapless butterfly, flapping its wings and only growing more trapped in the spider's web, dizzy from the sweet allure of the flower's nectar—

Capitano calls your name a second time. His low voice rumbles from within his chest, making you shudder involuntarily. It is all you have as a warning before one of his hands lands on your shoulder. The other plucks the book you were reading out of your grasp. "Hey—" You startle, stretching an arm out to take it back. The tips of your fingers graze against the edges of the leather cover, only to fall short out of reach.

Your eyes meet his. "Do I have your attention now?"

The retort dies on your lips and you shut your mouth, instead opting to frown. To make your displeasure visible. His palm is warm, an ever-present heat beckoning you to look at him. To lean into him. To respond, at the very least. Anything to dispel the chilling realization that you were alone.

The Maier son is dead. Your ex-foster parents are dead. You are alone in this land of ice and snow. No home, no more family rooting you in Mondstadt. You only have your husband now.

He isn't frowning, per se. You remember how the air turns cold when he's staring down insubordinate recruits, when he's mildly inconvenienced by Tartaglia's cheekiness, or even when he's gotten fed up with your petulant avoidance.

But this emotion coloring his features...

...he almost looks concerned for you. Maybe you're just not used to him taking off his mask within the walls of your home. But it's making you painfully aware that you're being seen.

Your gaze bows down to look at your clenched fists in your lap. "I'm listening now." You internally wince at the curt tone your voice has taken. This isn't how you were supposed to show gratitude to the person who has done nothing except provide warmth, safety, a home you could call your own.

"It can wait." The past few days have felt like a haze and his gentleness cuts through the fog clouding your thoughts. It's almost comforting, yet at the same time, your mind reminds you that he was responsible for—or maybe at the very least, that he might've played some part in the death of your ex-foster family. "Have you been thinking about the Maiers?"

"No," you say quickly, reaching out to grasp his hand. Your grip tightens, a plea for him to believe you. Your sleep has been far from peaceful, soured by bits and pieces of nightmares you can barely remember. How can you not think of your former family after being delivered such news?

Capitano's eyes widen by a mere fraction, before settling back into his neutral expression. "Don't be mistaken." The way he punctuates your name sends a shiver down your spine. "They might have fashioned themselves as a family, whether that be on paper or in front of others. But their treatment towards you was unbecoming and downright cruel of one. They do not deserve such a title anymore."

Panic clutches your throat. Has he seen through your words? You need to rectify that now.

Now, you stupid girl!

Instead, you swallow the words you wanted to counter. "I'm sorry...I'm—I think I'm just..." You don't know what else to say. Guilt wells up from within your stomach, a second 'sorry' lodges itself in your throat. You should have been grateful.

Ever the patient man, Capitano places his other palm atop yours.

You belatedly realize that it was easy to forget that you were in the care of a man who held more than just political renown. He was equally capable of extinguishing your life with his own hands if he wanted to. The way his hands dwarfed yours in comparison is a blaring reminder despite the warm gesture.

"Capitano, will you—" At the sound of his name, his hand shifts, encompassing yours in even more heat. It's dizzying.

Would you come with me? Stay with me? You want to ask, yet the words won't leave your throat.

Your fingers flex, letting the rough lines of his callused palm brush against yours before you pull away. "...nevermind, I'll—" you swallow, the next words leave your lips in a rush. "I'll go now."

[...]

The walk to your shared bedroom from the office does little for your buzzing thoughts. Your side of the bed is cold. Even after burrowing under the sheets, shivers wrack your frame as your meager body heat adjusts to the temperature.

He didn't allow you to run away that quickly though, stopping you in your tracks with a single call of your name before sending you off with a chaste kiss against your knuckles and—

...returning to his paperwork.

In hindsight, you think you should have asked for your book back.

Now alone, your mind spirals back to your earlier conversation with Capitano. He has and continues to see through you. You, with all your faint blemishes and little imperfections and scabbed over wounds—

You squeeze your eyes shut, what were you even trying to say before you left? At this point, you were no different from the hapless maiden in the storybook. No, you were worse, you might as well have waltzed into the spider's lair and narrowly danced out of its grasp before succumbing to the elements.

What were you trying to tell him? That you wanted him to soothe and comfort you? To take you to bed and to make you forget about your former family?

The train of thoughts continues in such a manner, twisting and looping back in on itself, leaving you on the cusp of sleep and awareness. Faintly, you register the edge of the bed dipping with a new entrant's weight. He's sitting next to you, laying a hand on your resting form.

Was he saying something to you? You can't make it out over the rush of blood in your ears. A stuffy sensation clouds your mind, leaving you vulnerable to his touch.

You hear the sound of your name being called, feel the heat of his palm sliding down the curve of your hip. Your building nervousness seizes your throat, but you adamantly force your body to remain still.

The edge of your dress hikes higher up, past your knees, past your thighs. Your eyes fly open at the sensation. Now bared to the cold, goosebumps prickle along the skin of your legs. In spite of that, a stubborn heat gathers in your cheeks, traveling down your spine, pooling in your lower stomach. Capitano nudges your legs apart, his hands settle atop the waistband of your underwear.

"You were awake." He observes—no, he knew all along—that you were feigning sleep.

Weakly shaking your head, you correct him, "I just woke up." It's a bad lie, but your other option was confirming what he already knew. The heat of his palms haven't left your sides, his fingertips dip beneath the soft fabric. "...are you going to continue?" you ask him.

A part of you hopes he wouldn't. "Would you like me to?" Your pulse speeds.

Wordlessly, you raise your hips, allowing him to fully slip off your underwear. It's not quite an answer, but it's a response that he takes in stride. After setting your underwear aside, he pulls your hips flush against him. His hand grazes against your crotch and your breath hitches.

Pulling away, the tips of his fingers are covered in clear arousal, thin viscous strings clinging to the ends of the digits. You move to close your legs, but the larger man has his other hand resting on your knee, keeping you exposed. Open to his ministrations.

His gaze is boring down on you, freezing you in place. And despite the trepidation coursing through you, a small—nonetheless needy—part of you wants him. The only reassurance he gives you is the slow stroke of his thumb against your knee.

The Captain doesn't spin his words with empty fluff and roundabout double-meanings. The same can be said for the way he touches you. Spread them wider.

Taking the cue, you scoot back. Letting him lean closer to you, letting him into your space. He presses his lips to the sensitive skin, trailing gentle kisses along your leg. The intimacy of the gesture isn't what makes you flinch. You can't help the quiet pained noises tearing from your throat when you feel the graze of his teeth. Red imprints—you are sure they will bruise—obscure the scars that marked your legs.

Capitano runs a hand along your inner thigh, the pads of his fingers moving closer and closer to your leaking cunt. As if he were attempting to soothe the trembling that seized your frame. He's close—too close, his breath ghosting along your core elicits a choked gasp from you. You press your lips shut, clap a hand over your mouth for added measure. The insistent heat clinging to the back of your neck creeps higher, setting your cheeks alight.

"W-wait," you weakly protest. "I can't keep my voice in—"

He stops short of making contact with your sex, gaze flicking up to meet yours. His other hand pushes a lock of his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. "If my precious flower is overtaken with pleasure, then she should be as vocal as she likes." His words are muffled as he drags the flat of his tongue up against your slit.

The effect is instantaneous, your head thumps back against the mattress. You can barely hear his next words over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. "Don't hold yourself back, my dear." Capitano's voice takes a low, dangerous tone. It's all you have as a warning before he seals his mouth over your clit and sucks hard.

Your fingers find purchase on the crown of his head, digging into his scalp. Now uncovered, moans and gasps freely pour from your lips. Your hips buck against the stimulation, aching to bring yourself closer to Capitano. You feel one of his digits prodding at your entrance, effortlessly slipping inside and moving in tandem with his mouth. It doesn't take long for him to find that sensitive bundle of nerves, doesn't take long for that building heat in your lower stomach to coil tighter and tighter, edging you closer to release—

Your first orgasm washes over you, making you cry out. Your grip on Capitano tightens, pulling at his hair and eliciting a deep groan from him. The sound seems to reverberate through your frame, making you moan in response. Through the haze of your vision, you see his demeanor is languid as he continues to envelop your clit in warmth. His eyes are closed in bliss, and his other hand idly runs along an old scar making the back of your thigh. The movement of his fingers inside you slows—not that the speed mattered in the first place, the size of two of his fingers, every movement is—enough to send sparks of pleasure throughout your lower half, drawing out your release for longer.

But when the wave of pleasure runs its course, he doesn't release you from his hold. The heavenly warmth enclosing the nub tips into overstimulation.

"Capitano...it's too much..." Your words are airy from trying to catch your breath, yet your hips continue to cant against him. Greedy for more in spite of what your nerves were yelling you. "...h-hurts..." Tears gather at the corners of your eyes.

He gives you a moment of reprieve and releases the nub, leaving it shiny with spit and red from stimulation. You can feel it throb with your heart's pulse. Capitano doesn't leave you unattended for long though, his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his mouth. His tongue replaces his fingers, slipping into your entrance and coaxing out more of your arousal. You feel a mix of his saliva and your slick dripping and spilling onto the bed sheets.

"Hnn...Capitano—" you whine, trying to twist out of his grip.

The slow, tantalizing drag of his tongue along the length of your slit is intensified from his earlier ministrations, making you tremble. He hikes one of your legs over his shoulder to gain more access to your cunt.

"Just let me pleasure you," he tells you. You keen as his fingers press more bruises into your thighs. The way he says your name sends a rush of heat down your spine. It's as if you aren't some mere plaything in his hands. Capitano's touch, his words, his warmth—gentle and encompassing—it all makes you feel treasured. He puts his mouth on you again.

No matter how much you writhe, you are left helpless, caged in between the pleasure he's giving you and the mattress of your bed. Even if he isn't focusing on your overstimulated clit, every slight graze of his tongue against the swollen nub makes your toes curl. Your moans pitch higher, growing louder as you reach your peak for the second time. The only thing you can do is squeeze your thighs together, pull him against your core as you come.

God, it hurts—but why does it feel so good?

Stars explode behind your eyes. Your frame trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The insistent heat that has been consuming your lower half pulls away. Without it, you're reminded of how empty you feel, in spite of being brought to release twice. It's as if you've become twice as vulnerable to the cold. But you can still feel his palms caressing the sides of your legs. The weight of Capitano's gaze on you makes you turn your head away, bring one of your arms up to obscure your face, the expression you were making—or it would have if he didn't catch your wrist

"Don't hide." It's the first request he's demanded from you. And you reluctantly obey, lowering your hand from your face, bring yourself to hold his gaze with your own. His hair is mussed up from your attempts to ground yourself. His expression softens for just a fraction of a second, eyes staring intently at you. You tense up as you feel his fingers interlock with yours. Of all things to send your pulse into a frenzy, it's this miniscule gesture—his insistence on being considerate.

How ironic, that it doesn't feel patronizing nor overbearing.

"Are you alright?" Capitano asks you. He wipes at his mouth with his free had removing the remnants of your arousal. For some reason the sight makes you shudder involuntarily. Butterflies are swarming in your stomach, choking out your words.

You can only muster a small nod as a response.

His thumb strokes the backs of your fingers. “Focus on catching your breath first.” Capitano gives your hand a squeeze before moving to rise from the bed. Possibly to draw a bath and to clean you up. A pinprick of dismay cuts through you at that thought, you’re empty and cold and you want—

Before you can think twice, your hand reaches out.

“Wait—” Capitano freezes at your touch. You’re shaking, but it isn’t because of the cold.

Swallowing, you pull yourself into a sitting position. Even the sensation of the bedsheets against your throbbing groin is enough to elicit a hitched breath from you. You clamp your mouth shut and fight the urge to shift your hips. How could you still crave more after that?

“W…will you let me…return the favor?” The last three words come out in a whisper. A part of you braces itself to repeat the question, but you thankfully will not have to. Your gaze glances downwards, at his ignored arousal straining against the fabric of his pants.

The silence of the room—his silence from scrutinizing you as well—is deafening. “...If you insist,” he relents.

Embarrassingly, your legs refuse to cooperate with your attempt to crawl towards him. You end up almost falling into his arms, collapsing against his chest. Stubbornly avoiding his gaze, your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt. They also refuse to cooperate with you, coming undone much too slowly. With the way you’re sitting in his lap, you can feel his erection against your bare lower half.

He calls your name. Your cheeks are blazing at this point. He grasps your wrists, making you pause. "You're rushing." If you didn’t immediately gratify his needs, how could you call yourself his spouse? This wasn’t enough.

"But, don't you…doesn't it hurt?" Only after have the words left your lips do you realize how naive you sound. Your fingertips linger on the end of a faint scar peeking out from the sliver of skin you were able to bare. Just like you, he holds a canvas of old wounds, injuries that have probably hurt a thousand times worse than what you went through.

His hold on your wrists does not hinder you from continuing to undress him. What does surprise you though is the quiet puff of amused laughter emanating from him. You pause for a second time to gaze at his face. The faintly bright expression, a glimmer of mirth in his irises…

At the rare sight, your pulse stutters in your chest.

“Your earnest determination is more than enough to satisfy me,” Capitano reassures you, lips drawn in a fond smile. You snap yourself out of your stupor and go to unbutton the rest of his shirt before he can catch you staring too intently, trying to commit the close-up sight to memory.

The sound of his laughter in your ears again tells you that you failed.

Your eyes stay pointed at his now-bare chest, run your gaze along the scars that you have uncovered. Lightly trace a finger along the line spanning from the base of his ribcage to his side. An injury sustained several months ago, possibly from a weapon with a serrated blade—the skin is uneven, didn’t heal as seamlessly. Your gaze flicks up to gauge his expression, if he was growing impatient.

But why? You didn’t have to look and double-check though. Underneath your other palm, his chest rises and falls with steady breaths.

Your hand moves to his side, an older scar this time—a stray arrow that grazed him, he didn’t realize that the wound was bleeding until long after the battle had ended. There are more scars marking his back, his legs, especially his hands and forearms. Accidents on the battlefield, vicious beasts, sudden betrayals, time was kind enough to leave some of them as faint white blemishes. As for the others—reminders of his early carelessness, inexperience, and overconfidence—he had eventually grown to accept them as part of his person.

But for you, seeing them again was just like seeing them for the first time.

“...I’m sorry…” The apology spills out from you. You can’t bear to imagine the weight of what he carried during each instance of pain. “...about earlier…I’m sorry.” For being insensitive, for ignoring you, for being ungrateful.

“I should be saying that to you.” Capitano’s fingers brush over a faint white line marring your wrist. His touch is kind, so much kinder than your previous partners. “You’re in pain.”

“Mine? No…” You shake your head. “These—they’re different, they’re…” you trail off. The words ‘unimportant, deserved, ugly’ dance on your tongue.

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Are they also not proof that you fought? That you survived?”

“Survived, maybe.” But you weren’t strong like him. Just cover them up, you want to say. Just take my body as you like and give me bruises in return. You don’t want to look at them. You don’t want him to see them.

Though, that choice wasn’t yours to make.

You swallow down the discomfort as his hands move to the hem of your dress. “Raise your arms,” he says in a soft voice. You obey and let him pull the garment over your head, baring the rest of your body. You feel him press his lips to the crown of your head. Goosebumps pimple your upper back, your arms come up to cover your chest out of reflex. He sets your dress aside and also removes his shirt.

The heat of Capitano’s palms finds your waist. “Let me see you.”

You make a weak sound of protest, but lower your arms and place them against his chest. It’s not that you aren’t able to support yourself, you’re sure that he can hold you up with one hand. Rather, it is the feeling of your arousal dripping along your inner thigh in spite of your mortification. The weight of his gaze is trained on your vulnerable form. Bashfully, you meet his eyes.

…it almost feels like adoration, a warm but ultimately unfamiliar sensation. You want to shy away.

Capitano’s hand moves lower, his thumb brushing against your clit. Your hips buck at the sensation. Breaking eye contact, you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly overwhelmed at the budding pleasure between your legs. No, this wasn’t right, you were supposed to be pleasuring him.

Your eyes fly open. “N-no…wait, let me…” Somehow you find your voice. His hand stops stimulating the nub but you still have to hold yourself back from grinding against the pad of his callused digit. With a shaky hand, you free his cock from the confines of his pants. At your hesitant touch, you can feel it twitch in your palm. The throbbing heat is dizzying. His grip on your hips tightens for a fraction as you line up the tip with your entrance.

Biting your lip, you lower your hips and let him penetrate you.

He says your name, concern lacing the word. “While I appreciate your attempt to be assertive, you are going to hurt yourself…”

“It’s—hnn… not a problem…” You sink down a few more centimeters onto his shaft. Despite your dismissal, a pained keening noise leaves your throat. How were you able to take him the first time?

“My love, you’re too tight.” Capitano’s palm caresses the side of your face, as if attempting to soothe the crease on your features. Risking a glance at him, you note that he almost looks unfazed at the feeling of your attempts to fit him. “You need to relax…”

If he was so concerned, then why was he—your breath hitches as you feel him grow harder.

His palms return to your sides, fingers pressing lightly into your waist and keeping you from taking more of his cock. Your knees are trembling and you don’t need to look to see that you were only able to fit less than half of its length. But even then, you can feel your entrance already stretching to its limits to accommodate its girth. You feel tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

This was embarrassing, no, more embarrassing than that, your cunt continued to traitorously leak in spite of the overwhelming stimulation.

He presses his forehead against yours. With this proximity, you can feel his breath fan across your lips. “You’re rushing again…slow down…” He is going to leave bruises along your waist. Despite his level-headed voice, you know he’s almost at his limit. You brace a hand against his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, you try again—

So what if it hurts? Just start feeling good already, you’re about to say. But all that leaves your throat is a small whine. “K…kiss me, plea—” Capitano’s lips meet yours, eliciting a soft moan. He doesn’t stop there, his hands reach up to stroke your nipples, sending more sparks of pleasure through your chest. The added stimulation makes your hips buck, shallowly fucking yourself on his cock. Taking more and more until he bottoms out.

The fullness of his length inside you combined with the sight of your joined hips stirs more heat. “Does…it feel good?” you ask, after pulling apart. You bring yourself to glance at his face and feel your pulse come to a standstill.

The look in his eyes—dark with lust, fully and absolutely captivated—captures you. “Yes.” Every breath he takes is measured, the only thing he can do to keep his self-control from snapping. “You feel absolutely divine, my beloved flower.”

How did praise come so easily to him? You feel your cheeks flush. “But I haven’t… started moving yet…”

Capitano’s hand brushes against your lower stomach, before pressing down. Even without exerting that much force, a strangled moan escapes your throat. Your cunt spasms at the sensation. “And yet, you’re tightening around me like a vice…”

Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder as he lightly pinches and rolls your nipples in between his fingers. Capitano’s words continue, filling your head with him. “...trying to pull me deeper—mm!”

You surge forward and pull him into a deep kiss, swallowing the rest of his words. You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the tangles and savoring the silk-like texture against your skin. The painful sensation of trying to fit him has completely dissipated. Uninhibited, you grind against him, and in turn, he meets every cant of your hips. Every brush of his cock against your folds pulls moans and gasps from you, messing up your rhythm.

Starved of air, you break apart to catch your breath. Your legs buckle, no longer able to hold up your weight. But it does little to hinder Capitano’s own need for pleasure, he bounces you on his lap and continues to drive his cock in and out of your cunt. With each thrust, it almost feels as if he was reaching deeper and deeper into you, pushing into your womb.

Your release comes hard and fast, making you seize up and clench down on him. Capitano’s pace grows erratic, you feel his length twitch before spilling his come inside you.

Suddenly, your back meets the mattress of the bed. Your legs twitch as he pulls out, letting his seed drip from your cunt.

Your eyes catch that his erection hasn’t flagged. Another jolt seizes you as his cock rubs against your entrance, lightly spreading your folds and smearing the clear arousal. “A-aren’t you done?” You still haven’t caught your breath, you don’t know if you’re able to take even more—

“I’m afraid I haven’t had my fill yet.” Capitano leans closer to you, bracketing you in his arms. His hair falling past his shoulders comes down like a curtain, seemingly closing you off from the rest of the world. You can only see his expression, pupils dilated with pleasure and ragged breaths pouring from his lips. If looks could kill, it would have been death at first sight for you. “Would you allow me to indulge myself, my darling?”

You wrap your shaking arms around his neck, pull him closer to you and bury your face into the crook of his neck. Let him enter you for a second time.

How many deaths would that make this?

You realize that the trembling of your frame isn’t born from fear, but rather anticipation for what he would do.

So when did you learn to meet his gaze unflinchingly?

[...]

The hot water is a godsend, especially in a land of perpetual winter like Snezhnaya. The heat seeps into your frame. It will do wonders for the impending soreness after you get out of the tub. You can also chalk up the flush in your cheeks to the temperature, and not because of Capitano’s inhuman stamina, not because of his continued insistence on pleasuring you as well, and definitely not because of the way he almost brought you to another climax as he cleaned you up before helping you into the tub.

One of your hands wipes at your face in an attempt to dispel the building fluster. He was going to have to carry you around again. You sink and let the water come up to cover your shoulders, drawing your knees up to your chest and idly stare at the slowing ripples of the water.

“Don’t fall asleep in the bath.” Capitano’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. He closes the door behind him. “You’ll overheat.”

Straightening up, you protest. “I’m—urk—awake!” You wince at the roughness of your voice, bringing up a hand to rub at your throat.

“Good.” His expression gives way to concern. “I’ll prepare some tea for you.”

“N-no, you don’t need to.” The effort it takes to speak at a normal volume is too much, you elect to whisper instead. You shake your head and reach out for him. At the light brush of your fingertips against his wrist, Capitano’s hand envelops yours. “Will you join me?”

“Let me clean myself first, I’ll be with you.” He promises with a press of his lips against the crown of your head.

You stare furtively at his back as he moves to the shower. Count the minutes until the sound of running water stops. When he steps out, he meets your gaze, catches you staring at his well-endowed form, the droplets of water running down the lines of muscle—

Embarrassed, you duck your gaze and scoot over to make space for him in the tub. The water level rises at the presence of another person.

“May I?” Capitano’s hands hover short of making contact with your shoulders.

“...mhm.” You make a soft noise of assent, lightly flinching at the weight of his touch against your bare skin. His thumbs rub soothing circles into you, your eyes flutter shut and you lean against him. The steady thump of his heartbeat is comforting.

…It almost feels like home in his arms.

A/N: this one's for u bestie @jessamine-rose, MERRY CHRISMISS! thank you for infecting me with brainworms by osmosis (derogatory) and ty also for beta'ing this fic haha i was dying at the romantic-y chivalrous character of capitano had fun writing capitano's darling and subjecting her to his wholehearted love and devotion

to the rest of my readers, you should deffo follow her!! she's got some divine yandere fatui longfics to peruse and a bunch of heart-pinching hcs/imagines, i guarantee yall are in for a treat!! i hope you liked reading this! dont be afraid to reblog and yell in the tags or yell abt my writing in my askbox!!🥰🥰

#mdni #the capitano agenda #genshin impact #il capitano #yandere capitano x reader #fem!reader #dellet-writings

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nyoomerr · 3 months

Note

How do you always pop out banger fics? I feel like everyone and their mothers in the fandom adore your fics and not one of your stuff has ever been a flop! Seriously, what's your secret??

djkhfg but more seriously, there have definitely been fics i've posted that i personally wasn't happy with at the time i posted them, or that i was really proud of but have indeed "flopped" when i posted them**

**recognizing that all success is relative, and considering a "flop" to be a lack in response compared to my other svsss fics from a similar time period

overall though, i have indeed been extremely lucky with how kindly this fandom has treated me and how much support my work gets... but mostly i do think that really is just luck 😅

if you just meant for this to be a very sweet compliment about how you like my stuff a lot, thank you so much, and feel free to stop reading here!! if you were genuine in asking "seriously, what's your secret," though, i do have some tips for fic writing!

first thing is for me to say that it is 100% the most important for you to personally be the #1 fan of your own stuff.

it's super fun that so many people like my fics! but it's mostly fun because it feels like i'm holding up a rock and screaming and everyone screams along with me - it would be a lot less exciting if i was holding up a rock and watching in silent indifference as everyone screamed at it, lol. writing stuff just because it's interesting to you will also help you avoid writing + fandom burnout, and people who read it will always be able to tell when you love what you're writing about.

i also personally think it's really important to see the things you like to completion, which includes either posting it somewhere or saving it alongside your finished works, whatever you personally do to metaphorically put a finished piece "on the fridge."

it is a wildly common experience for creatives to begin disliking their own work partway through the creative process, or to dislike it after it's done. but if you're creating something because you're personally excited about some aspect of it, then you theoretically enjoyed something about that work at some point in time. and, with enough time and distance from it, you'll probably end up liking it again in the future!

if you've made sure to put that work "on the fridge" somewhere it's safe and marked as 'done' in your own mind, then you'll get the chance to create that time and distance. it's not sitting in some guilt-ridden folder of abandoned wips, or discarded because you were never able to write or edit it to your satisfaction - it's just 'done.' i can't count how many times i've come back to a piece i disliked at the time of finishing it and, months later, decided it was actually pretty good.

so - put your work on the fridge, even if you're not satisfied with it! and when your brain is able to let it go, reread it. find the parts that made you write it in the first place, the stuff that got you really excited, and let them excite you again, and inspire you to write even more!!

okok so that's a) write what you like and b) don't give up on your hard work. now i'll address the last bit that touches on fandom reception of your work... 💦💦

... i really do think it's mostly luck 😅

the very first fic i posted on this ao3 account is, without doubt, still my most popular one. i could talk about how i feel about that for a whole separate essay post lmao, but it is a good example of how fic "popularity" often works.

i was still on twitter at the time that i made it, which was where most of the mxtx fans were at. a promo post i made got retweeted by a handful of people with big followings, and that combined with the fact that there were way less binggeyuan fics at the time meant that it kinda hit it big. and since so many people sort by kudos or bookmarks, fics that are already popular just end up more popular...

i think a lot of popular fics are like this to some degree. they use the right tags and post at the right time to get seen by just the right audience, or there's a promo tweet/post somewhere that lands on just the right number of dashes, and their popularity snowballs. of course, these popular fics are also often absolutely fucking incredible and worthy of their popularity, but i've also read fics with very very little "popularity" that are just as good or better than some of the top kudosed or bookmarked fics in the tag.

the only thing i have ever (personally) noticed as something you can control that affects popularity is fic length - from what i've seen in both my fics and those others write, multichaptered fics that update semi regularly and stretch on for multiple months have a tendency to drum up more excitement the longer they go. people start to get more excited for each update + they talk about that on socmed, and that combined with consistently bumping the fic to the top of the tag when sorted by recently updated gives it more and more chances for it to hit that lucky combo of "seen by the right people."

so, that's all to say, actually my advice for this section is also "just write what you like," because you can't control whether or not the people who will also like it will see it when you post it, so make sure there's at least one reader enjoying the ride (you).

...and then of course for more generic "how do you write """well""" advice, just keep practicing, and take note of the things you like in other people's writing and how they accomplish it!

sorry if that was like. way more than what you were really expecting as an answer for this 🙈🙈 i really am truly very grateful for all the super kind feedback i get on my work, but i'm really out here just writing whatever i want in whatever ways i want and then throwing it up "on the fridge" before i can chicken out dkfjh

i hope you (or whoever else bothered to read this far) can also be really satisfied and excited about what you're making, and my fingers are crossed for your luck in the "everyone in the fandom likes this thing" lottery 🤞🤞

#kjfdhg i wrote way more here than intended tbh but i do want to try and be helpful if someone asks me for advice so kfgjh #ANYWAY ty for the ask and for enjoying my stuff!! i rly am lucky with so many lovely people in this fandom supporting me ;w;#nyoomerr ask

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theragnarokd · 15 days

Text

[i deny anything to do with this. dirk writing fanfiction, modern no sburb au, rated T so far, lots of self loathing and judginess]

It was the end of the evening shift. He did a lot of closing nowadays, night blurring into dawn: there wasn’t anyone to drag him out. Not anymore. On the counter, there was a finished drink, the customer’s name written on it in sharpie. His coworker must have ducked out just before calling out their name. He picks it up. It’s not until he calls out the name that it registers: “Enkidu!” From the back of the coffee shop, a familiar figure approaches, and Gilgamesh’s heart clenched. For a desperate moment, he dared to hope.

Dirk exhales, rereading the paragraphs for typos. Then he saves it into the folder titled Oubliette, and opens a different text file. His SBaHJ reverse-mpreg vore isn’t going to write itself, and Dirk can’t disappoint his readership.

Even as the thought forms, his inbox dings. His heart speeds up at the view of the sweetest words known to man or machine:

[AO3] Comment on SBaHJ: the Romeomance

Of course he immediately opens the notification.

centaursTesticle left the following comment:

My admiration, as always, is yours. I would be happy to read more in this GRIPPING tale

Dirk permits himself a small smile. This guy has been commenting on Dirk’s fics, first in a binge and now on every new installment he updated. Dirk mentally fist-bumps him before opening his WIP folder, where the relevant fic document lives. It’s a good day.

It is not a good night.

Dirk should go the fuck to sleep. Or at least to shower. He washed the dishes earlier and his shirt has more unmentionable fluids on it than his latest fic update, which is saying something.

Instead, he goes to Romeomance’s page and hits refresh.

Not even a tick on the visit count.

This is stupid. Dirk is being a useless idiot. If people can’t appreciate his subtle satire and how it corresponds with the tone of the original comics and movies, that’s on them, and not on him.

There’s a newer fanfic than his with twice the hitcount, not even looking at kudos.

Well, so what? People like what they like. As long as Dirk is happy with the stuff he writes – and while he’s always aware of places he could improve, he rather is happy with it – what does it matter what response some other person’s fic gets?

The title is a lower-case quote from a song that was in the top 40s ten years ago. The tags include Enemies to Lovers, Only One Bed, and Slow Burn. (The fic isn’t even 10K, and it’s marked as complete, so Dirk is a teensy bit skeptical of how slow that burn is.)

Dirk clicks in. Maybe he can learn a thing or two.

The first two paragraphs make a fairly clever allusion to the famous stairs monologue. It’s a surprisingly fresh outlook on a piece of canon that’s been worn to palimpsest and back by fanon. It could be a good fic. Dirk might enjoy it. Better, Dirk might learn how to write something that isn’t worthless drivel–

He closes the tab.

This would be an excellent time to go shower.

He opens the tab again. He reads through the story grimly, marking how the dialogue sounds lively and not like two finger puppets squeaking at one another. Yes, okay, it’s a stylistic choice for Dirk. That, and he can’t fucking write dialogue to save his life.

By the time Dirk reaches the author’s notes at the end, the only argument he can make against deleting all his own fic is that it can serve as a cautionary tale.

The end notes thank two beta readers. Dirk runs his fics past Roxy when he can swing it, but for the most part, he hasn’t managed to attract a beta reader in years. Maybe that’s why everything he writes gargles balls.

There’s also a link to the author’s entry in the Every Little Bid Helps fanfic auction. Dirk clicks on the link mostly out of self preservation: if he rereads this fic, he really will orphan his account. That would be sad for that centaursTesticle guy, wouldn’t it? Think of the testicles. The centaur ones.

#my fic #dirk strider #whomstve

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degloved · 3 months

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the use of ai in fics genuinely makes me so sad. i can see with my own two eyes that the summary does not at all read as though it had been written by the fic's author (and verbiage aside, the usage of "coworker" in the main text versus "co-worker" in the summary is already telling enough.) idk. yeah "why should anyone bother reading what you didn't bother writing" and all, but it's more than that. we were all beginners at some point. we all sucked at some point. none of us could churn out the sort of perfection we strived towards from the get go—and this is ok. writing, especially when done for free and out of love for a book/show/movie/play/etc, should be an activity that is actively enjoyed; you're not writing solely for the final product, you're writing to write. when i first sat down nearly a decade ago now and put pen to paper (literally—i used to write by hand), it wasn't because i knew what i was gonna produce. it wasn't because i had some great grand idea that just had to be put out into the world. it was because there was something in me that made my fingers restless with the want to write. and naturally it's not always a walk in the park, and it's an activity that can frequently turn from pleasant to frustrating, but those are some hurdles you're meant to overcome by yourself. writer's block, burnout, not being able to make the words go right—we've all been there. it's part of the artistic process. because this is, at the end of the day, an art form—be it prose, poetry, original work, fic. and it just makes me really fucking sad that there's such an emphasis now on the finished product—the fact that it's even a 'product' to begin with—instead of... the entire journey. the honing of this skill—because it is very much a skill to master and continue perfecting. reading my work from 2017 (sadly do not have anything earlier) and seeing just how much i have improved in the last seven years is one of the most rewarding aspects of being a writer. knowing that what i do now i could never have done back then, and i would certainly never have learned if i hadn't constantly, continuously kept at it for those seven years. every bit of writing i do makes me better, more polished, represents a proverbial step closer to the mastery of this art form & becoming the kind of writer i want to be. i went from writing and very frequently being frustrated in those days that my piece couldn't compare to the fandom greats or the real life writers i looked up to, to now writing something and finding myself going back to it again and again, rereading it again and again because it's just that good. it's just that fucking good. and i got here all on my own, by putting in the time and the work, by pushing through the dissatisfaction and demoralization and self-doubt. it's a slow process, but so worth it. and some of these people will never have that, because there's a desire to achieve but no motivation to do the achieving. it's just so much easier to fire up chatgpt and have hours' or even days' worth of work in a couple of minutes after feeding the machine some prompts. "why should anyone bother reading what you didn't bother writing" and all that, but mostly, i just feel sad for what these kids are missing out on. because immediate satisfaction trumps a slow process, no matter how rewarding. i suppose

#n #ao3

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robotnuts · 7 months

Note

are there any rvb fics you still think about all the time? like i dont think a week goes by without thinking abt qed and how it def changed me on a molecular level, do you have any fics like that?

oooh good question. the most important fic is at the bottom of this post so just scroll to the final paragraph if you only want one, true recommendation of the only rvb fic that really matters.

QED is fantastic though its more of @shotgunslap's thing than mine. the partner to that is also obviously QoQ, the only rvb fic ive been able to make almost all my friends read. i think about the south/north characterization every day of my life. caboose and carolina mean so much to me, etc etc. thats a pretty easy pick though so im cracking into my ao3 bookmarks to look for more niche picks.

i know there was actually a lot of rvb fic that was just posted to tumblr that i think ive gone back and tried to reblog at some points but i never organized it, i should have archived it, people who wrote good femslash and rvb women liked to just post it under a readmore on their tumblrlog and you have to go digging through decades old tags to find it now

okay. the big one i actually do still think about all the time forever and ever is saltsanford's stuff about epsilon/wash's relationship. this is the big one i still think about that centers on their backstory, but also, put my guns in the ground, which is one of the Big fandom tuckington longfics, also has such good washpilon stuff in it and they're so fucking juicy. when tucker asks wash how many times he's broken his ribs and he says four and epsilon says "actually it was five" before realizing How Bad of a Move that would be. Hello? Hello?????? i want them to be forced to reimplant and have weird mind brain trauma sex SO BAD sorry im normal. this is another one that takes place during/after the chorus era

on the spectrum of fics that i actually dont yet feel ashamed reccomending, primtheamazing, who wrote QoQ, also wrote some other good stuff. i am a HUGE fan of this fusion fic, the punchline to the tucker/caboose fusion is HYSTERICAL. this one where grif forgets who simmons is due to temple shennanigans and flirts with him is also very like. trope-y but i like that shit so this goes here too

ok. now onto the stuff that it is actively embarrassing for me to be recommending. but. prim's logrimmons fic is hysterical and was the stepping stone to creating the lolixgrimmons mind palaces with my friends so its worth it just for that. but also its really fucking funny. so is the one where locus has to listen to them have sex and gets himself caught

the truly embarrassing one for me to have here is the piece of softboy grimmons content i participate in. sadly i do enjoy s15 content sometimes for the softboy grif sensitive emotions exploration i will admit to being a hypocrite there and i really liked that one and reread it frequently (just realized this is written by the QED person so! you might already know of it)

and then finally. the most important red vs blue fanfiction of all time, guns are for shooting. it has it all. sarge. washington. sarge again. kismesisitude. grif and simmons acting like rosencrantz and guildenstern (are dead). locus being invisible and getting caught by lopez with a bag of flour. it's written by the person who wrote QED. You want to read it right now. Read it right now. READ IT RIGHT N

wait no the cute bit about sarge declaring war on gravity and upending a bag of flour onto lopez isnt in guns for shooting. what fic is that from

#its mainly mx qed relationshipcrimes and mx qoq primtheamazing who are my favorite writers it seems #so anything there is pretty good #oh on the cute grimmons level i also like 'What kind of trash dragon'#which.. might be written by prim? i know they have a few orphan fics floating around out there #including uh. green is a shade of red which i havent read but know is a good red team locus fic that they wrote and then orphaned

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fluffyartbl0g · 1 year

Note

Going through all my follows rn, what's your favourite character/ship (platonic or otherwise) dynamics?

(also I know I've just randomly shown up in your asks, your time travel au has been an absolute joy to read, keep it up friendo!!!)

Thank you so much :DDD!!! I'm so glad that you've enjoyed reading my time travel au and I super appreciate the ask cause I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY ONE PIECE OPINIONS >:DDD!!!! I'll put it under read more ouo

Anyways my OTP,,,, is,,, NAKAMASHIP!!!! There's nothing more that I love than the strawhat crew ; - ; I have literally shed tears over all of my strawhats and I love that they all love eachother deeply... On my one piece reread- I made sure to pay extra attention to all the character interactions and jokes. And can I just say, I see so many people talk about how the strawhats barely interact post time skip, or that some characters are basically strangers to each other (I saw someone say this about Franky and Zoro), but THEY DO TALK!!! THEY HAVE SO MANY FUN INTERACTIONS!!!

Oda is SO good at balancing these funny little character moments between important story beats >:O I think Zou in particular had a bunch of nakamaship moments that I really loved. One of my favourite lesser loved dynamics in the crew is usopp and robin (which you would know if you looked at my art of them XD) because they have a bunch of funny bits between them :3

My romantic OTP of all time is ZOLU THOUGH. And I tried really hard to not ship it immediately when i first started reading one piece, because I do this kind of thing alot when I get into media where I latch onto the protag and the guy close to the protag and ship em together??? Like I was so obsessed with JohnDave that DaveKat just hurt me,,, And I liked bakudeku so much that I couldn't get into kiribaku... AND I DIDNT WANT THE TREND TO CONTINUE TO ONE PIECE T - T And it SOMEWHAT did, but it also somewhat didnt. When I first heard Zosan was the most popular ship, like leagues above zolu, I was in physical pain,,, But REMEMBER; nakamaship is my first otp, so I still really enjoyed the idea of zoro and sanji because I enjoy the dynamics between ALL of my strawhats >:(!!!

I'm super duper obsessed with one piece and it sucks that there's all this great fanfiction out there that is effectively barred against me because there's a ship that I don't like >:/ So what I did to become more accepting of Zosan is,,, I drew them making out a ton XD If you look at my early one piece doodle piles, you'll see one of them with a couple of zosan things HAHAHA. Honestly it vaguely worked, but I'm super picky about the zosan fics I read, cause I feel like people can wildly mischaracterize zoro pretty easily.

Anyways I don't think I really answered ur question properly, I really love the king/knight loyalty but also just good bros dynamic that's happening with luffy and zoro :) But in general I just love a good sunshine person/grumpy person ship! (geraskier, bakudeku, megamenace, kagehina, hitomi and shousuke <<< quite upset that the ship sank, Fakir and Ahiru, wrightworth, etc)

Thanks again for the question <3

#ask #one piece #im actually somewhat glad zolu isnt the most popular ship in the fandomn #when u find a fellow zolu truther you KNOW they're a real one #I'm sorry i dont mean to rat on any zosan lovers it's a great ship :thumbsup:!#There are some suuuper good zosan fics out there so im really glad that i decided to give it a shot :]!!!!

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letstalkwhump · 1 year

Text

Let's Talk Whump No.16

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today.

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the fabulous @whumperofworldsrlds!

Thanks for joining us today! Let’s start with a fact or two about yourself!

Hi! I'm WoW, 28, and I love gaming and writing! I also love making new friends and chatting, even though I'm bad at keeping in touch!

What does whump mean to you?

To me, whump is an escape, like how some people draw and write to escape from their problems! I'm going through a lot right now, and writing and reading whump is a good way to ease the stress! That and I really enjoy torturing characters, haha!

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

I first heard of the term "whump" from a Sherlock Holmes (the original) fic that I forgot the name of at the moment. I first discovered the community around 2019 on Tumblr, after looking up a bunch of kidnapping scenarios. I joined in 2020 because it sounded like fun, as a huge fan of writing kidnappings, and man, I'm glad I did!

Do you think your view on whump changed since you joined? Any specifics such as new or disliked tropes or fandoms?

It hadn't changed a bit, I have to admit, haha! I still love kidnappings and characters getting restrained in some way! There are a few tropes that are squicks and dislikes for personal reasons, but otherwise, the only thing that changed is my love of whump, which has gotten bigger! OC vs. Fandom, I love both, though I wish we had more fandom whump, especially in the fandoms I'm in, Fire Emblem, Super Smash Bros, and Final Fantasy 1!

And your favourite whump trope?

Used as bait is my favourite of all time! Whumpee getting kidnapped as bait for Caretaker/their team, bound and gagged and placed in a highly revealing location for them to find, and they could only scream and struggle in vain as their saviours try to rescue them and get caught themselves! I also love the Parting Words Regret trope! It makes me cry every time whenever Whumpee and Caretaker had a bad argument, and something terrible happens to Whumpee, getting kidnapped, or worse, died. The angst is so good!

Time to hype yourself up! Wat’s your favourite piece that you’ve written?

Out of all the fics and stories I've written, I absolutely LOVE writing and rereading my Super Smash Bros fic, Plead To Me, sadly on AO3 only, sorry! It's a way to celebrate Sephiroth joining Smash Ultimate, and what better way to celebrate his appearance than writing whump where he hurts Cloud Strife and his boyfriend, M!Robin, named Reflet since there's a female version of him to tell them apart! In the fic, he tortures Reflet first, while forcing Cloud to beg and plead so he could stop. He then turns his attention to Cloud himself and tortures him while Reflet watches! And then the rescue from the other Smashers… epic! It all ends well but Sephiroth is still out there, and he'll likely strike again when he has the chance… I absolutely love my description of the whump, along with the two boys' reactions when they're forced to watch each other get hurt and can only scream and plead for the other to not get hurt!

Do you mind sharing what your writing routine looks like?

My writing style needs a bit of work, admittedly, especially in the description parts haha! I usually write while I'm at work (which is overnight), on my lunch break! After working a lot, it feels great to sit down, relax, and write some whump after working hard! I usually have a drink and food with me though I end up forgetting them since I get too focused on my writing, haha! I also write with music blaring (without lyrics so as not to distract me) that fits the mood, like fight scenes, I put RPG fight music. I sometimes do blocks of sentences, but otherwise, a sentence here and there! As for inspiration… I write when inspiration strikes me! I try to write regularly but it feels forced to me, so I usually wait till I find a good prompt for me to use or I get a random idea out of nowhere!

And do you find that it's easier to write some things over others?

The easiest for me is writing what the characters are doing with a flair of some descriptive words as best as possible! The words flow as I write and think of what they're doing, like are they having a conversation? Working on something? Oh man, descriptions are my biggest struggles! Like if I need to describe a chair, all I say is "it's wooden and red" and that's pretty much it, hahaha! I'm working on it though, but it's hard to think of ways to describe some things like settings or items!

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

I'm working on a few stories and fics with whump! I'm writing a new part of Decedents of Chaos but that kinda stopped for a bit so I can take a break from whump. I also have You're Mine still in the works, just ran into a writer's block. I then have a generic prompt idea sitting in my drafts, and don't get me started on the 292847291 WIPs that I had in my Google Docs for a few years, hahaha!

Is there any advice you’d like to share?

Keep writing, never give up on it! If you need practice, do a "quick scenes" document (basically like sketch dumps for artists, but you put in random scenes that you thought of), and write, write, write whatever you can think of! Also READ! I got better at writing thanks to reading, and I copied a bit of ideas and styles from other writers!

And now a shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you!

I'll give special thanks to @painful-pooch, @actress4him, @kawhump, @guys-in-distress-database, and my BFF and sister @thequestingbunny for all the encouragement, the love for my stories, and for letting me ramble on about my ideas! Y'all are awesome! I have a lot of others but the list will be too long haha!

Anything you'd like to add?

Know that you're loved, everyone, and keep on trucking! Happy whumping, and keep on torturing your faves!

So good to have you here today, @whumperofworlds!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Cold Comforts: Thaw

hello! would it be possible for you to write a fluffy sanders side fic with the creativitwins and janus just messing around in the Imagination? thank you! :) - tabaxi-power

I literally stalk your blog (in an affectionate way) your writing keeps me going and I reread your fics constantly. That said I’ve been especially enjoying the Roman angst but there can’t be rain without a little bit of sun. Could you write a fluff fic where Roman is working on a big project or idea and he encounters issues along the way but his famILY helps him through it in their own special ways and it all turns out fine? Totally not me projecting or anything… - anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues

Pairings: darkside polycule

Word Count: 4954

"It'll always be ours, right?"

"Always."

"Slow down, Remus," Janus calls as a very determined Remus hauls him through the door of the Imagination, "you're going to tear my arm off!"

"You're a liar," Remus retorts, even though he slows down slightly, "I can't do that! Everyone says I'd need to be a car or a big piece of heavy magickery to pull your arm all the way off!"

"It's 'machinery.'"

"That's what I said."

Up ahead, they can already see another tiny figure waving excitedly. If they listen closely enough, they can hear the squeals and shrieks over the rolling hills.

"Re! Re! Come on, I wanna get started!"

"Ro!"

Janus ends up letting go of Remus's arm and watching the two sprint across the field to almost tackle each other into the grass. When he gets close enough to see they've completely ruined their clothes with grass stains and dirt, still grinning from ear to ear, he has to pry them apart before they start to roll all the way down the hills.

"Alright, you two," he says, doing his best impression of the older kids that sometimes have to look after Thomas, "what are we doing today?"

"Oh, oh! We should play the prince game again!"

Roman bounces to his feet and suddenly the ground shifts around them, grass turning to smooth marble as walls rise up out of nowhere. Before they can blink, they're standing in the grand hall of a magnificent castle, complete with tapestries hanging on the walls, two impressive thrones at one end, and a truly massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Little bits of light refract through the crystals, sending bits of rainbows scattered about the floor as Roman's clothes shift into a princely costume.

"Wait, but there can't be two princes!"

"Sure there can, why not?"

"But you're the prince. I don't wanna steal your idea."

"Oh." Roman deflates for a second, tapping the end of his—thankfully—wooden sword against the floor. "What other royal positions are there?"

"He could be King," Janus suggests, only for both brothers to go eerily still and stare at him, "or not! Or not, there are, um—"

"Oh, I know!" Remus quickly changes into an outfit similar to Roman's, except the colors are different. "I'll be the Duke!"

"Perfect!" Roman raises his sword. "And now we fight!"

Janus watches as the two of them clash their wooden swords together, running up and down the length of the hall, even jumping on top of the thrones at times. There seems to be some ongoing dialogue that he can't quite make out—well, he can make out Roman yelling words that are probably supposed to sound like Shakespearian English and Remus just keeps chanting fight, fight, fight, but they're having fun, so who cares?—and Remus seems to be leaning into playing the…bad guy?

"I'll have your throne," Remus jeers as he thrusts the sword forward, "and then you'll have to clean all the toilets in the castle!"

"Never!" Roman's cry echoes dramatically off the walls. "I'll never clean your toilet!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

Remus rears back to strike with the sword but Roman gets there first, swatting the sword out of his hand and shoving Remus to the floor. "Hah! I win!"

Janus applauds as Remus makes his death scene as dramatic as possible until Roman's giggling too hard to hold the sword up anymore. "Well, my dear prince, what now?"

"New game," Roman declares, throwing the sword away, "that one's done now."

"What about pirates?" Remus is already reaching for the discarded sword, running his fingers over the wood. "We haven't done pirates in a while."

"Okay, where?"

"On a pirate ship. Obviously."

Roman rolls his eyes in a way that would make most teachers proud and the castle around them fades until they're standing on the deck of a pirate ship. The sail unfurls behind them in a long susurrus of canvas as Remus grins from under his broad pirate hat and eye patch. Roman pokes at his leg a few times before Janus realizes he's trying to figure out how to turn it into a peg leg.

"Why don't you just try not bending it," he suggests when Remus starts holding his sword a little too enthusiastically, "then it's like it's made of wood?"

"That's a great idea!"

"Wait, wait, I wanna try too!"

And so what was probably meant to be some epic pirate adventure—and don't get him wrong, there are still mermaids and krakens and leviathans aplenty—turns into a strange mix of helping each other learn how to be pirates without bending one of their legs and talking about the increasingly bizarre ways they lost their legs in the first place.

"And so I was just about to pry the jaws of the beast off me," Remus declares, throwing his arms up, "when the teeth were all snap! And then my leg was gone!"

"Never fear," Roman says just as loudly, brandishing his sword—sorry, cutlass, "I will avenge the ruin of your leg!"

"How?"

"I will tell you when I figure that out!"

Janus laughs from his position up by the wheel, steering the ship through the swells of the open ocean. "Captains, we've got a whale up ahead!"

"A whale?"

"I wanna see!"

A great whale breaches right next to the ship, its massive body twisting through the air for long suspended seconds, before crashing back down and sending a wave to soak all of them. The brothers shriek with delight as they wring themselves out.

"New game," Remus declares.

"Last one, okay? We gotta go eat soon."

"Aww, that's no fun!" Remus pouts up at him. "Why can't we just stay in here forever?"

"Because then the rest of us would miss you. What if we want to come visit and we can't find you?"

Remus sulks for a moment before Roman nudges him. "You wanna go monster hunting?"

In hindsight, perhaps Janus should've been suspicious about how quickly that makes Remus perk up.

"How do you play that one?"

Both brothers turn to look at him and the Imagination changes once more, rock walls rising up and covering them as the air grows colder, staler, a dark cave taking shape around them. Janus looks around at the rock walls and at the two of them a few feet away, practically vibrating with energy.

Ah.

"Run, run, little morsels," he calls, letting his shadow loom menacingly on the floor, "I'm hungry!"

"Wait, what's a 'morsel?'"

"I think it means 'food.'"

"Oh."

"Run!"

It's difficult to chase them through the caves without seeing them, their squeals echoing off the walls until he can't quite tell where they're coming from. Eventually, though, they run through a bigger passage at the same time and, well, his legs are just that little bit longer.

"Gotcha!"

"No," Roman shrieks as he's tackled—gently!—to the floor, wriggling around like some wild thing, "no! Re! Avenge me!"

"I'll save you," tiny Remus declares, summoning a pillow and hitting Janus with it, "get off my brother, you slippery snake!"

"Never!"

Soon it's an all-out pillow fight that ends when both little gremlins decide to just fall on top of him holding their pillows in front, smushing him into the floor. He throws his arms up.

"I surrender! You've defeated me!"

"We won!"

"We beat the monster!"

They collapse giggling onto the floor two, half on top of each other in some strange tangle of limbs that makes sense to them. Janus picks himself up and dusts himself off as the cave fades, going back to the rolling grassy hills.

"Hey, Re?"

"Yeah?"

Roman's voice gets very soft and quiet. "Can we…do this forever?"

"Of course, Ro." Remus turns around and gives his brother a big hug. "We'll always be together. The Imagination's ours, remember? We're Creativity. No one gets to tell us what to do in here."

"It'll always be ours."

"Always."

----

As soon as the door to the Imagination shuts, Virgil lets go of Patton and Janus and reaches out to take Logan gently but firmly by the shoulder. "You've got some explaining to do, Logan."

"Wait, I have to—"

"They're not going to let anyone back in there for a while," Patton says, crossing his arms, "so we may as well go somewhere more comfortable to wait."

Logan sends one last glance at the door before allowing himself to be led to the living room. Everyone takes their places and he swallows the unexpected lump in his throat when he realizes the brothers won't be here to join them. He finds himself staring at the TV for much longer than he'd like to admit before Patton clears his throat.

"So," he says, voice low, "what is it that you want from me?"

"The truth, for a start." Janus waves a hand. "Perhaps why you chose to keep what you knew about the Split hidden for so long."

"And maybe why you let everyone believe it was me," Patton adds.

Logan frowns. "It was a logical conclusion. You are Morality, and thus you determine what is Right and Wrong—or what Thomas believes to be Right and Wrong, and so—"

"But Creativity wasn't Split into Right and Wrong," Virgil interjects, "it was Split into Bad and Not Bad. And Patton didn't—wait, did Patton get created because Creativity Split?"

"I don't know," Logan repeats, "I don't believe so."

"Oh, well, if you don't believe so—"

Irritation flares up in him and he glares at Janus. "You were also around, need I remind you, and so I don't think I should be the only one on the metaphorical chopping block for all that happened when Thomas was younger. You never told me why you left in the first place! For all we know, you could have something to do with Patton's genesis."

"Oh, and I certainly wouldn't be one to keep such a thing hidden," Janus retorts, sarcasm dripping from each word, "it's not as though I had direct contact with Creativity for an extended period of time or that the new Side that appeared was taken into my care without informing anyone else."

"Is that not what happened? You had Remus—"

"Exactly."

The sudden ice in Janus's tone is enough to make him falter. Janus takes a step forward, words hissing through his teeth.

"I found Remus out of nowhere. He was abandoned and alone on a rock in the middle of nowhere wrapped in a thin blanket. He was cold, Logan, and he was screaming for his other half. Do you know how long it took to assure him that he wasn't going to be left again? Do you have any idea how many nights I spent—we both spent—" he gestures to Virgil who nods— "just trying to keep his nightmares at bay?"

Logan glances between them and sees no reprieve from either.

"So yes, Logan," Janus continues, "I had Remus. I had a terrified and alone little Side who grew up thinking his brother hated him. Tell me, where in there does it seem like I had the ability to craft Morality?"

"He's right, Logan," Patton says softly, "I…I don't remember anything about him, Virgil or Remus until we were all much older. You…I just remember you and Roman."

Logan swallows and stares back at Janus. "I do not know what led to Patton's…creation as a Side. I don't know why it happened and that's the truth."

"J?"

"…he's not lying."

"Thank you," Logan sighs, "now if we could all just—"

"But you haven't answered my question."

"And what question was that?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone about the Split," Janus repeats, seemingly not daunted in the slightest, "and why you were happy to let everyone think it was Patton?"

"Who was I supposed to have told? You?" A humorless laugh leaves Logan's throat. "You were gone, Janus, you'd made it very clear that you didn't want to be around me anymore and the last thing I was about to do was seek you out for something like this."

"Why, because I didn't care about Creativity? He wasn't my friend too? I wasn't worth your time?"

"Because I was scared and a child! I didn't know what was going to happen! I didn't do it on purpose!"

"But you still did it! And you never told a single person!"

"If you are going to start lecturing me about keeping secrets, then—"

"Logan," Patton interrupts suddenly, "why do you think we're mad?"

"I assume because I caused the Split and didn't tell anyone about it, although I maintain there was no one to tell and I was a child who—"

"That's not why we're mad."

Logan stops. He blinks. "You're…not?"

"Oh, we're mad," Virgil says, "but not because you caused the Split when you were a kid and then didn't tell anyone 'cause you were a kid."

"Then why are you mad?"

"We're mad," Patton says in a voice that makes Logan's skin crawl, "because you've been using the fact that you know what caused the Split to hurt Roman and Remus as an adult."

Logan's mouth falls open. His gaze darts to Janus, to Virgil, back to Patton, and he still only manages to say: "what?"

"Remus was made because he wasn't wanted. Roman wasn't made, he was left, because he wasn't Remus. And you've been using those two things against them ever since."

"I haven't—"

"Don't lie," Janus interrupts, his voice hard, "you make Remus feel unwanted as a way to control him constantly. You claim he's unworthy of consideration, that his ideas are meaningless, that he's easily dismissed once you get to examine him. You don't want his ideas, and so it's easy to lump them all in as bad ideas. And if Roman isn't Remus, then he must be Good Ideas. If he's supposed to be everything Remus isn't, then he must be obedient. He must listen. He must be easy to control."

"Remus is the Creativity Logic didn't want," Patton continues, his voice slightly softer but no less pointed, "which means he's wild, unpredictable, he does things when he wants to, not when they make sense to do. With Roman…"

"Roman's your dancing monkey," Janus spits, disgust ringing in his voice, "he makes the ideas that are approved when you want them, how you want them. He's there for 0.5% of your day and then he's gone. And if he ever steps a toe out of line, you know exactly what buttons to push to make him behave again."

"Hang on," Virgil says, "we're not exactly blameless either. We're assholes to Princey too."

"But we don't have a convenient 'aim here to hurt Roman' guide we've been using for years."

"…that's true."

"Roman doesn't know what he can be except not-Remus," Patton finishes, "and if Remus is wrong…then Roman can't be wrong. That's—that's the Logic of it, right?"

Logan doesn't say a word. He's staring at the floor.

They're right.

He didn't tell anyone about the Split when they were younger because he didn't know any better, but there came a time when he did. When he realized what had happened and how profoundly it affected both Roman and Remus, and how much the memory of him talking to Creativity still impacted them.

And what did he do?

He didn't tell anyone.

He kept it a secret. Because he knew he could use it. He could ensure that things were running efficiently and Thomas would have all the ideas he wanted and none of the ones he didn't. He could make sure that Creativity would be easy to control and not impact them negatively at all.

He knew how to make Remus go away and so he did.

He knew how to keep Roman in line and so he did.

He knew how to hurt Creativity and so he did.

It doesn't matter that he was only a child when he caused the Split. It matters that he's not a child anymore and he's still causing the Split. He never stopped to think about whether what he was doing was right, because it was working. And if it was working, then something must be correct.

Guilt presses heavily onto the back of his tongue. He feels sick.

What's worse is he knows that somewhere, wherever it was, he knew it was wrong from the start. If it wasn't, why would he have been so willing to let everyone believe it was Patton's fault? If he had truly believed he was doing nothing wrong, that he was guiltless, then he would've corrected them. Or at the very least, said something when he realized how hurt the brothers truly were.

But he didn't.

And now…

As if on cue, the Mindscape shudders.

"What…what have I done?"

----

He knew.

He knew how afraid he was of being wrong. He knew how much it hurt to be dismissed. He knew how badly he wanted, just wanted and he lied.

How dare he?

How dare he stand there like he had anything to do with forgiveness, like he had any authority to act as though he was better, as though he could stand from some wronged, innocent, right place and bestow forgiveness?

When he was the one who'd done wrong, when he was the one who just hurt and hurt and hurt and it was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong!

He'd been used. Been treated like a tool that misbehaves and breaks and is discarded. Been worked like a dog and thrown into the cold when his tricks weren't good enough. Been forced to dance exactly the right way and when he didn't…oh, when he didn't, he had open wounds all along his back for fingers to dig into.

No more.

The pain in his throat is an afterthought. Barely registers until he tries to swallow and realizes he can't swallow while he's screaming. The sound reaches his ears after miles and miles of faint ringing noises and even then he can't quite register that it's coming from him.

He screams and he screams and he screams because he's hurt and what else is he supposed to do?

He doesn't realize he's stopped either, not for a long while until he comes to realize that he's not standing up anymore. He's curled up on his side, his head pillowed in something soft. His throat is screaming still, but now only in pain. Somehow that's much louder.

"C'mon, Ro," he hears distantly, "open your eyes, Roro, please."

Remus. That's Remus.

"Roro? Roro, I know you can hear me, come on, eyes."

He opens his eyes.

Gone are the rolling hills of green grass. Gone are the remains of the tower. Gone is the bright blue sky.

In its place is nothing but scorched earth. Soot and ash fall from a grey sky, lifeless and crumbling against blackened dirt and cracked rock. His white prince costume streaks with grey, the red across his chest a gaping and infected slash. He blinks numbly as Remus's hands come into view. They're covered in ash too.

"It's gone," Remus is saying, "it's all gone. We did it. It's ours again. It's all ours."

Roman turns to look up at Remus and he swallows through his ruined throat. Remus just stares down at him as tears well in both of their eyes. A trembling hand touches another and shaking arms find their ways about shaking shoulders.

"He hurt you," Roman mumbles, voice strangled, "he hurt you."

"He hurt you too."

"I—I don't know how to not be hurt."

"I don't think I do either."

Ash continues to fall from the sky. The two curl around each other in the ruins of what was once a perfect world.

"We get to start over now," Roman mumbles, "we can—we can make it ours again."

"Don't leave me."

"Never."

"I want you, Roro, I always want you."

"Promise?"

"Always."

----

Sometime later, a lone door shimmers into the ash-filled air.

It opens slowly and the figure on the other side gasps at the destruction. His eyes land on the two Sides of Creativity, still huddled around each other in the middle of the ash.

He steps through the door but doesn't approach.

They stir as one, realizing someone else is in their domain. They stand as one, their arms slightly in front of each other, each protecting, each protected. In the ash, their costumes look the same shade of grey.

"I came to apologize," he croaks, overwhelmed at how much this place has been ruined, "I…I never meant to cause the Split. I never meant to force the two of you away into different bodies."

He adjusts his glasses.

"And…and I came to apologize for never telling you the truth. And for using what I knew to hurt you over and over again. It was petty and cruel and wrong of me to do and I—I'm sorry."

One of the brothers twitches.

"I want you both," he says, desperation leaking into his voice, "you're both—you're both wanted."

"Is it us you want," they say as one, "or just what we Create?"

"I want the singing at two in the morning even though I should be sleeping," he says as he stumbles forward, "I want the you that throws viscera at the wall because you like the way it splatters. I want the you that takes an hour to pick out what notebook you want because you're particular about what you write in. I want the you that watches horror clips until you figure out how to feed your Kraken."

He reaches the two of them and stops, hands trembling as he reaches out for them.

"I want you," he whispers as the ash falls down around them, "I don't want you because you're Creativity, I want Creativity because it's you."

For a long moment, neither brother moves. Then slowly one steps in front of the other.

"You promise," he asks, wary of getting too far away from his brother, "you won't hurt us anymore? Even if we want something you don't?"

"I promise," he says, "I promise. It's okay to want."

The one in front of him stares for another moment, before slowly, he reaches out too. "L-Logan?"

"Oh, little one," Logan breathes as Roman crashes into him, "my little one, it's okay. It's okay, now. I promise. No more. No more."

He reaches out for the other.

"Remus, come here. Please, Remus, let me hold you."

"…you want me too?"

"Yes. Yes, I want you, Remus, come here. Come here."

The last of the ash drifts down to the earth, leaving the world still and silent. A few paces away, just beyond the door, a single sprig of green emerges and reaches toward the sky.

----

Roman sits on the couch. His hands play with the hem of his sleeves. He needs to fix it.

Virgil just left. They'd sat together for a while, listening to music and keeping Roman out of his head. He'd said it was fine if he stayed longer, but Roman had sent him away.

"It's gonna be fine, Princey," he'd said—he always calls him Princey affectionately now—"you're gonna be okay. And if not, I'll kick his ass."

Janus had come by too. Helped to talk through everything and assured him that it would be okay. Even pulled him up and made him dance a little just to try moving around, see if that helped.

"You're going to be fine, my prince," he'd whispered when Roman couldn't quite bring himself to pull away, "it's going to be alright."

Even Patton had come by, not saying a word, just cuddling with him until Roman could lift his head up without being afraid.

"I've got you, sweetheart. We're all here for you, okay? Both of you."

He'd held onto Remus extra tight too.

"Just us, okay? Just us. Always."

Always.

It's been the same for a while now. Logan would ask what Roman had done to be productive that day, Roman would list them. It was simple, effective, and helped both of them realize the appearance of laziness did not always signify inaction. And it kept them both talking about what needed to get done and what they wanted to get done.

Typically, Roman was able to list at least one productive thing per day. Whether it had to do with the videos, or personal projects, or even helping someone else out with theirs. By and large, it had been easy to give at least one thing that would make Logan nod.

That isn't to say Logan's been unkind, no. He's been—he's been good. It's Roman's own fault he's still so afraid.

And to make matters worse, he knows he can talk to Logan. He could say that this isn't working for him, or that he's still scared, or that he just needs to not some days.

All things he could say.

Which brings him to now. Today had been hard. He'd struggled to make it past the grey fuzz in his head to get out of bed, only to choke down breakfast that tasted like nothing. For better or worse, he'd done everything he needed to do yesterday, or the day before, which meant he had even less motivation than normal to make his brain work.

He hadn't been able to do so much as make his bed, let alone work on the project.

He curls up tighter on the couch. Logan would be downstairs soon. Logan who wakes up and does things all day and then still has time to sit down and do this with him. Logan who would learn how unproductive he had been today and be so, so disappointed.

"Roman?"

He looks up. Logan comes down the stairs. "Hi."

"Hello. Are you hungry?"

"N-not really. Why, are you making dinner tonight? Do you want help?"

"Not at the moment, no." Roman watches as he gets himself situated, dread swirling in the pit of his stomach as he tries to remember the words from everyone else. He briefly wonders if it's too late to feign sickness. "Alright, I'm almost ready."

The moment comes when Logan sits down and pulls out a notebook.

"Now, then. What have you done today?"

Roman bites his lip and stares at the floor. He can't do it. He can't do this. He can't. He can feel his face burning and his eyes getting heavy with tears and he can't do this.

"Did you hear me?"

He takes a far-too-shaky breath and mumbles something.

"A little louder?"

"Nothing," he chokes out, "I—I didn't do anything."

The silence that follows feels like the slow rise of the executioner's blade. He bites his lip harder, trying not to sniffle. He can't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks but he can be quiet.

"Did you get out of bed?"

"What?"

"Did you get out of bed?"

"…yeah."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"N-not a lot."

"What about lunch?" He nods. "And we've yet to decide about dinner…alright, did you finish any more of those series that you said make you feel better?"

Roman nods again, shame morphing into confusion as Logan finishes writing something down. He keeps asking things like how much water did you drink, and did you get any more rest, things that…aren't productive. When he finishes, he runs the pen down the list, counting each one.

"That's twelve things," he says, tearing the page out and setting the notebook aside, "I'd say that's pretty productive."

He looks over and sees the tears streaming down Roman's face and his demeanor shifts, standing and coming to wrap his arms around Roman's shoulders.

"Hey," he says softly, "talk to me. What's the matter?"

"I don't—I don't—" he sniffles— "I don't understand."

"You took care of yourself," Logan says gently, "that's being productive too."

"You were gonna be mad…mad 'nd dis'ppointed that I didn't do anything."

"Oh, little one," Logan whispers, pulling him into a proper cuddle, "I'm always proud of you. It's okay."

"R-really?"

"Really." A kiss, pressed to his forehead as Logan tucks him under his chin. "It's alright, little one. You're okay."

"Oh, thank god, I thought we were gonna have to murder you."

Remus—and the others—appear out of nowhere and Logan grunts when Remus tackles them both onto the couch.

"I told you it was gonna be okay, Roro."

"I know."

"Come on," Patton says, "let's all get ready for movie night, okay? We'll just have pizza for dinner."

"Oh, hell yes," Virgil cheers, helping Logan coax Roman to the floor, "I've been craving pizza for ages."

Roman just blinks as the others get settled, Logan's arms still firmly around him as Janus turns out the lights.

"Can—can I go to sleep?"

"If you want to, little one, go ahead. I'll stay."

"You will?"

Logan smiles, ruffling his hair gently. "I'm right where I want to be."

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#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic #dragonbabbles

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 11 months

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barking barking, ok so i am rereading a bit of the last chapter and the things i had noted last time so that i remember everything that happened but after that i am loose

having an awful idea to listen to the guitar solo of freebird on repeat as i read this.... i am going to do it there is a rotating rat on the 10 hours version i found, wonderful

SO UH THIS IS MASSIVE SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T READ CAPS LOVELY NEWEST CHAPTER SCROLL PAST THIS VERY FAST IT MAY TAKE A WHILE. THE READ MORE BUTTON DOESN'T WORK IN ASKS SO SORRY

(i refuse to edit it this time, it took me like. a while last time and this is even longer, so you also get the incomprehensible pieces and no added notes to explain what i meant <3 (also a lot more '<3' this time. not sure why))

MORE CROWS rrr, they are important i know it

the way panthera is surrounded by cats and crows is interesting... like its an amusing visual but also really kick ass if you frame it in your mind right

yes, i enjoy that juleka is confronting ladybug on how she leads, especially considering that we know for sure they are inexperienced, yes i like this conversation

ooo, this is interesting, dust all kicked up focussing on different senses...very fun, always interesting to see how they can rely on things other than sight

woahhh, the staff lets off green sparks?? its made of copper <3 wait i looked it up and... aluminium makes green fire too? huh? this isn't important <33

awesome visual tho

YEAH BEAT HIS ASS BRO roger cop my beloathed <3

massive baby guy would be scary...

yay! teamwork! carapace and panthera woohoo

gonna be honest free birds outro on loop is really setting the mood for fighting for me

stop making me google things cap... t-rexes were apparently in the "late cretaceous" like ok thanks movie franchise for lying to me ig

Rena- this is amazing- she would record that. wonderful descriptors <33

No <3 i do not need the heartbreak of juleka v akumatised rose again <3 stop it <3 you hurt me <3

oh thank god-

this mantra of "calm yourself" is intriguing, i think its not going to work <3 let her go ape shit please

YOO PRINCE SHINING?? NOO

THIS IS BAD ASS THO

HA AND DOWN HE GOES

she's gonna turn this car around road trip with them when?? it can be a well deserved break <3 i am pitching this idea cap <3 this is what i would like and i would like it very much (i kid, its just amusing to me)

no because. because. alya nino and chloe are still able to have fun in a fight and. and- juleka is over here like a war veteran while marinette is trying to corral them all and- upset now

oh no juleka blacked out?? oh dear...

chlolix crumbs... wonderful... (to be honest with you, searching through the chlolix ship tag years ago was why i found these fics, so i love to see them but i am so attached to the story now <33)

OO? violence in your heart juleka?? maim and kill him you say?? good idea <3

“Miss me?” He grinned maliciously. “No, whore.” Queen Bee scowled at her side. i am actually losing it this is the funniest thing i have seen today-

ooo dark cupid being used to farm akumas... this is reminding me of minecraft and zombie villager farming to get the best trades, i can see the video titles now "this hack will TRIPLE your akuma production in just three EASY steps" <- unsure what this is but it happened in my brain, so there you go <3

i do like the idea of dark cupids powers being used tactically like this, i enjoy how its thought out critically when an akuma has an obviously helpful / game changing power

</3 "ma, i'm so exhausted" you are so cruel

AUGH WHAT NO ough rena got got by kim...

marinette kiss her quick

ough emotional

imma be honest for a hot second i thought juleka got hit by dark cupids arrow which i was fascinated by the idea of, however i think if she is to lose self control it would be more interesting if it was due to circumstances than mind altering magic

??? interesting, "there was- for a flash- a blackness that seemed to writhe like a bubbling mass of ink up her fingers—!" curious...

D: chloe... :(

augh my heart... they all got got protecting each other...

YOUR EVIL THIS IS UPSETTING ME

um hello?? who is speaking to her in bold?? am i dumb for not knowing?? girly is hearing voices

kill him!

gigantitan baby cult...

alternate universe where neither of them remember any of the old akumas names and at one point one of the akumas is so offended by the idea of being forgettable its enough of a distraction to get them

not me trying to think about whether a wish could actually be beneficial in any overall capacity using the rules we were given because hawkmoth is saying it would be...

no but why is the fact that akumatised queen bee is just sad making me so upset-

this is such a fucking big chapter jesus christ-

"nicking her ear and taking out one of her piercings" make her design look like gargamels cat azrael 2k18

(thats the wrong year. uh. shhh thats just the auto fill in my head when i say 2k)

hawky boy has gone off the edge of sanity hasn't 'e...

WOAH ONE ON ONE?? OWHUWO

OH NO ITS GOING BADLY

ohno that guy in bold is back at it again being ominous as fuck ohh i am dumb its plagg. yeah that tracks i am but a silly guy

ooo is it happening? is she doing the thing??

YOO THAT WAS BETTER THAN WHAT I THOUGHT OF THAT WAS BADASS YOO??

OUHTFHEDW

really did a bilbo catching the one ring on his finger and turning invisible right when gollum was boutta catch him tense vibes moment i would describe this better but i must get back to reading this was awesome

OOO SHE DID END UP BEING CALM IT WORKED WOHDANW4FIBBDE

THIS IS BAD COMMENTARY I AM EXCITED OK??

augjh=gtfreinig4fgrninib4frnedw

the way that i'm insane for the idea that someone recorded this fight and everyone ends up seeing panthera being a fucking badass has me insane...

mmmm switching the music to metallica

oh that was the right decision perfect base drop timing for what i was reading

ough awoog wibnefr, insane for the way that she is not referring to herself as human rn

awwybgfwei bgyrfned insane for all of this actually

THIS WAS SO FUCKING COOL JESUS CHRIST OH MY GOD ABHWEBHUUNERI I WISH I COULD SHAKE YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND EXPLAIN ARTICULATELY EVERY DETAIL I LOVED BUT ALAS ALL I CAN DO IS KEYBOARD SMASH AT YOU ACROSS THE INTERNET

love carapce actually <3

“You suck bro. Take an L dude, take an L.” “HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO ME– THIS IS MY MOMENT-” “IT’S A RANDOM FUCKING FRIDAY DUDE IT IS JUST A FRIDAY!” Carapace shouted, so frustrated, pinching his fingers together at the man. “YOU’VE WASTED SO MUCH TIME! GET A JOB!” love this so much actually

YO I FORGOT ABOUT MAYURA AND YOU FUCKING NAMED THE CHAPTER AFTER HER BRO

What a wonderful power, she thought. To protect, instead of hurt. stab in the heart why don't you

“HEY LADYBUG WE FOUND A BROKEN STICK!” “I FOUND IT FIRST ACTUALLY!” “I FOUND A FEATHER!” The two simply sighed love them all so dearly actually <3

awoog wiubfrne, whub?? juleka babe girly darling why are you still injured???? ough it was because of the metallica moment (<3 i have my own name for it, the songs i listened to while that was happening was Battery and Master of puppets btw)

well course it didn't heal from the cure, they are exact opposites so their direct effects would cancel out. like a plus and a minus, idiot

Apparently Rose might’ve fought Adam in a random parking lot that they had ended up in because she thought he might’ve hurt her during the attack so.. HWJB4IFE HA she would do that wouldn't she?

“Meh, it happens.” alix??? this is such a hilariously chill response??

nriew more chlolix crumbs...

Alix defended herself passionately, throwing up her hands as icing laid smeared on her lips. She paused for a moment, as Chloe half-heartedly wiped a bit off before continuing THATS GAY GAYY THEY ARE GAY A3WDWEUI sorry i got a bit excited there.

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappear.” “…Sometimes I–” “Yes?” Juleka pepped up. Rose paused and seemingly waved her thoughts away, smiling. “It’s nothing, don’t keep your big bro waiting!” RRRR REVEAL YOUR IDENTITY PLEASE OIGUHER RRRR

no because you somehow manage to keep it being a slow burn after they got together and i'm insane for that

actually they are the most adorable creatures in the universe i love them

I just didn’t think you’d start hearing them now.. huhwuh?? she is supposed to hear voices?????? weird wack ass side effects

ruhroh looks like thats the consequences of your actions nathalie

RUHROH THE CONSEQUENCES OF JULEKAS ACTIONS?? ough she has made herself an extra high value target

Her boy– no. Their boy shut up your in a queerplatonic relationship with gabriel and you both dated emilie in my head. he is your child to me <3 (i will write that damn 200k slowburn unhappy ending prequel i joked about if you fucking force my hand (ie. continue to make reference teeny tiny things like that (or maybe it will just start planning itself in my head right now curse you my brain)))

WAIT THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH IS SO SAD SHUT UP YOUR A CRUEL BEAST CAP

Emelie and Gabriel’s boy. He was not her’s. He would never be her’s. She was just– the assistant. The distant guardian. This was all for him though, if she could help– she could just. Maybe.. Nathalie shook her head at herself. What mattered was this family. UPSET NOW

TEARING YOU APART RIPPING YOU APART WITH MY TEETH CAP THIS WAS INCREDIBLE AND THIS TOOK ME OVER 2 HOURS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I 4yrheiwjnow

you may receive asks in your future about me writing that thing i keep joking about. i am spinning it in my mind like this damn rat

i muted it at times but wanted a timer and uh

this is nearly 1800 words wrong what is wrong with me- yknow what no this is your fault for the monster size of this chapter, anyway, time to slap this beast into your inbox <33

THIS IS MADE ME SO SO SO SOSOSOSOSO SOS O HAPPY.,,,,,,,

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH,, IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED,,,

#panthera noire au #sneak a cat

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broodsys · 5 months

Text

venting abt creative woes feel free to ignore <3

it has been really hard for me to post art, both drawing and writing. it's not just about engagement/lack thereof or abt concrit or about anything in particular. i just get so caught up in comparisons and breaking things down and wanting to be objectively "better" at it and idk if i'm even enjoying it anymore.

sometimes i think seriously about stopping? i'd still create but. just for me. idk.

and im having mixed feelings about fandom in general. idk. it's late at night and it's been dark for too many hours and ik that's putting me in A Mood(tm) but it's still been! hard! and i get sad and frustrated and self-conscious all the time

it just feels like im out here putting my ugly shit next to everyone's polished pretty pieces. and ik, ik, two cakes, i've been trying to internalize that, but it's hard right now. i cannot stop thinking about the pretty fics ive read and i cannot stop being so fucking envious of them and it feels gross! like i should just appreciate them? they're lovely, mine doesn't have to and shouldn't be a replica, etc etc, all these things i know intellectually, but... ugh.

and it's extra frustrating bc i know ppl like my stuff, esp my writing. they do! they've said it! ppl who have no cause to lie to me, strangers, etc. but i just can't feel it and im so... envy demon has a fucking hold of me lmao.

might be circling back to the going too fast/pushing myself too hard thing again. but i've just been dealing with the constant undercurrent of severe frustration with everything i attempt. i try to shake it off but idk, if it's this consistent...?

ugh. idk. i've been going back and forth on this for a while. do i push through? do i try to drop my standards? do i just keep all my stuff to myself? unknown.

like, no matter what im finishing my bigfic. for me. but idk. should i even bother posting it? it's not... it's not about engagement. it's about the fact that i feel like the whole thing is just kinda... an embarrassment? like i cannot stop looking at it thru the most critical, least compassionate version of a potential audience and it's fucking with me so bad. when im writing i enjoy it, i think it's cool, i think it's good. but then i post it and after a while im just so embarrassed. i still think it's good! but it's still also embarrassing! i've worked hard for years to learn to trust my audience, to not spoon-feed them every bit of information and then follow it up with a quick confirmation just to make sure they're getting it, but now i feel like i'm being drawn back into that.

i read it. i've reread it a few times, in fact, for pleasure and not for editing. i love it? but im also so embarrassed by it whenever im not like... actively reading it. it's just disheartening.

idk. it's my personal baggage more than anything ig.

anyway im genuinely not asking for my ego to be stroked here or w/e, just- this has been weighing kinda heavily on me for quite a while. it's very frustrating.

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mad-aims · 8 months

Text

I got tagged

Sorry this is a bit late, I've been really poorly. I'm still feeling a bit crappy but fortunately (or unfortunately might be the case here), I've perked up a little bit.

I was tagged by the amazing @eomma-jpeg <3

Last song: Well according to my Spotify, it is Stuck With You by Huey Lewis & The News: Here

This is one of my favourite love songs ever, it's just so cute and catchy.

Currently reading: Bet you can't guess! haha

It's none other than Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Its like my favourite novel ever.

Current fic: Right now I'm reading an Aziraphale/Crowley human AU called Recommended Reading by Feral Tuxedo Here. I've just finished rereading Fledging by them too; another human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley are both single parents. Here

I'm also going to reread In The Meadow (A MillNai fanfic) by @eomma-jpeg again at some point too because it's just gorgeous! Here

Currently watching: I'm not particularly watching anything at the moment, although I'm thinking of rewatching Good Omens season 2 again. Got to do my bit make it get a 3rd season! My angel and demon need their happily ever after!

Next on my watchlist: Hmmmm.... I might probably catch up with the new Rurouni Kenshin anime and My Happy Marriage. Also might watch that One Piece movie just because, (I don't even like One Piece) and catch up with that new season of Ragnarok (that Norwegian norse god show).

Current obsession: It's a bit of both Trigun and Good Omens. Probably more Good Omens right now. Just because when I first watched it, I was going through a real bad patch in my life. It was the one thing I really got into, after reaching a point where I thought I couldn't enjoy anything anymore. It turned my lifeless shell into something a bit more well alive! So it holds a very special place in my heart.

As for Trigun, liking it has led me to re-enter the trepid waters of Tumblr and I've made friends with some really awesome people. One of said people has tagged me in this here thingie. Also, Vash will forever be one of my favourite characters, I see a lot of myself reflected in him. He's always going to be my blorbo, along with Meryl, Milly and Knives (and Wolfwood god rest his soul).

As for my tags I don't have many friends (unless you count all the bots) so I'll just tag the followers I think might be actual people: @veilder @stradivariholmes @suwisuwii and @maulsveenus

Can I also tag @eomma-jpeg again too? Haha

#tagged #get to know you better #my friends

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hergan416 · 8 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

1. I do think that there is one thing that I have written that specifically stands out from the rest of it as kind of the best thing I have written while still being extremely "me." That is Lex Talionis. This was my solitary OP2020 bingo card fulfillment, for the square "temporary character death." It's katamar, starts with my brand of katamar violence/sex, and descends from there into something that honestly turned out even more gut punching than I had hoped. I remember @straycrayoncrypt being around on discord while I was writing it, and while I don't specifically recall the whole conversation, I know that my decision for the trajectory of the fic being as tragic as it turned out was directly tied to that conversation about who Katakuri is. I don't think I can ever manage that level of satisfactory angst again. I'm not sure I want to try. Contains explicit sexual content.

2. I also really like Intermediate Move, my 2022 YGOME gift fic for @millenni-em-tauk . This is another one where I just ended up very satisfied with many elements of the piece, but especially the ending. It's a Kaiba bros relationship fic from Mokuba's perspective....as an older adult who has a child and a divorce and who feels a little displaced in life. I had a very vivid idea of the scenes and setting and felt like I'd managed to hit on something meaningful with it. It was very fun to write.

3. It's odd how many prompt fics I'm adding here, but my DVOD gift to @kaibacorpintern last year, Heartsick, was also just really fun. The premise is that after Yu-Gi-Oh! The Dark Side of Dimensions, Kaiba returns from Aaru with Atem. However, time went screwy, and over a decade has passed, landing them home in the middle of the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic. Worse, Atem has forgotten all languages but Ancient Egyptian, and ends up sick and in isolation separate from Kaiba. I just really enjoyed the AU that I built and had a lot of fun with the premise. Writing Sugoroku was a blast, and I ended up with bonus content because Mokuba was really going through it, even if we didn't see it in the first part.

4. Left Alone I Will Break [Come Back To Me Brother] is just a pet fic of mine. Louis becomes a vampire after William dies of his fall into the Thames. Unable to die and share his fate as he has always wanted, Louis decides to resurrect William and force him to share in painful unlife. While the fic is basically just a snapshot into the necromancy ritual and a description of that premise, the tragedy of that premise is something that just grinds my gears. It just feels satisfying to me. I wish there was more of it without me having to spend time writing it. Contains explicit sexual content.

5. It's hard choosing my final slot. Part of me wants to select one of my One Piece character study fics, like Shared Nightmares (platonic lawbin) or Sanji's Respite (Law & Sanji). These are certainly safer recs than the self-indulgence I'm actually choosing. I re-read What Louis Wants an embarrassing amount. Not quite as often as I reread Silver's Cruel and Unusual Torture, but still quite a bit. I like moriarthree. I like moriarthree smut. I like Louis with sexual agency and desire. I do think considering my repitoire...its only honest to include at least one pwp fic on my list. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Contains explicit sexual content.

#my writing #all the fandoms!#all the pairings!#both yuumori fics on this list contain some element of WL #ask answered #anonymous

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years

Note

Dr Grey, I was in the middle of a very long morning, after a sleepless night (where I literally spent three hours just staring at my ceiling, trying to fall asleep again on the one day this week I could actually get up late) and chugging down my third cup of coffee when I stumbled upon your Raising Harry WIP. Sorry about the complaining earlier, but I felt it was necessary to highlight just how much that post made my day!!! It made me smile, my morning was suddenly brighter, and I had something to look forward to for my next break (which was going back and rereading it) THANK YOU - it was beautiful! The tentative interactions so far between Sirius and Harry, Sirius trying so so hard to rebuild himself piece by piece… all of it was so gorgeous!

anonnnnn. this is very very kind of you to say (though i am very sorry about the lack of sleep and the day job and the coffee chugging. i feel this on a spiritual level)

thank you for the love on my little raising harry, never to be posted full fic! i truly truly appreciate it (and everyone else who has passed along kind words in the reblogs/tags). there's something about this particular story that doesn't feel cohesive to me, and i am hoping that in time, I'll figure out whats missing and be able to yeet it out to all of you!

but in the mean time....i can give you the other part of this little story that i enjoy:

The intention of the outing wasn’t to annoy Harry, but as it was, as the day went on, Harry’s normally very pleasant disposition was turning sour. In a way, it was a relief. Sirius had been reading enough about parenthood through muggle books and memoirs and knew the teenage years were tumultuous, but from what Sirius had seen…it had been quiet, painless.

Harry was easy to please.

Harry wanted to please Sirius.

Harry just wanted the peace to be kept, and the quiet to be there, and while it was pleasant, enjoyable, Sirius knew it always wasn’t entirely authentic. He had expected at least a little bit of pushback when Sirius had asked Harry if he wanted to go into Diagon Alley that day.

“Shopping? For what?”

“I got the book list early from Rem--Professor Lupin, and thought it wouldn’t hurt to get them today. Maybe throw in some new robes as well? Shoes?”

“Clothes shopping?” Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand quickly.

“I certainly need some, my uncle had…a much louder view of clothing than I do,” Sirius commented, looking down at the burgundy striped trousers he had taken from his Uncles wardrobe that morning, “And you, by the looks of it. Unless of course you fancy wearing Fuschia robes to your next party?”

Harry made a face briefly, “Not…really.”

“We can go to the Quidditch Supply shop too if you’d like. See what’s out for that broom of yours?” Sirius asked, as he studied Harry carefully, wondering if this moment was going to be the first time Harry vehemently disagreed with something Sirius suggested. It was obvious, to Sirius anyway, that Harry had no interest in shopping in the slightest, even if Sirius had been biding his time until he could shower his godson with new clothes. Proper clothes. T-shirts that weren’t so faded without holes and jeans that wouldn’t be falling off Harry’s hips even while belted. A jacket that would actually keep him warm, instead of Harry relying on school cloaks. Sirius had been appalled when he had asked Harry if he needed help unpacking, there’s room in the coat closet if you don’t want to put your winter things in your room, only to find out Harry merely had a hooded jacket and his school cloak.

“Alright,” Harry shrugged and tucked into his breakfast again.

But as the outing dragged on, and the bags in Sirius’s hands multiplied, he could tell that Harry was growing weary.

Harry dragged his feet, no longer amazed at being in Diagon Alley, and falling behind Sirius’s steps.

Harry kicked at cobblestones and started to ignore Sirius’s questions when they went into shops. Harry would stand back with his hands in his pockets, not saying much of anything.

Parenting books didn’t mention how you were supposed to navigate this. Parenting books only gave you half the picture and nowhere in them described how to encourage your godson to throw a tantrum and disagree with you without having him throw too big of a tantrum that resulted in screaming in a public space and damaging an entire relationship that was still being haphazardly pushed together, like belongings in a moving box.

“Do you want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies?” Sirius asked, “Or wait until the last stop?”

“Dunno.”

Parenting books also left out the script you were supposed to use when your child responded with I don’t know.

“It’s no trouble--”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled again, his head looking down at his feet as they walked, “Doesn’t matter…”

“I--”

“I don’t care, whatever you want.”

“I’m not the one who has a firebolt, so--”

“So we don’t have to go, it’s okay, it’s whatever,” Harry said and Sirius watched as his godson appeared to stop himself from a footstamp for emphasis, before thinking better. Sirius’s mouth twisted into a barely hidden smile, thinking about Lily who up until the day she died would stamp her foot when she wasn’t getting her way. During arguments went James, once in the hallway with Sirius when he told her he wasn’t going to a party thrown by their old Potions professor. Nostalgia, aside, however, Sirius wasn’t sure what to do, trying to keep moving to not disrupt the crowds but having trouble making any sort of decision while doing so.

He stopped, and took a breath.

Harry stopped too.

“...Ice cream?” Sirius asked.

“What?”

“Let’s go get ice cream instead.”

Harry squinted up at Sirius bringing a hand up to block the sun, “I thought--”

“Yeah, well…I think I’d rather have ice cream. What say you?”

Like poking a needle into a balloon and watching it slowly deflate, Sirius saw Harry visibly loose the pent up anger and annoyance at the mention of ice cream. His shoulders relaxing, hands were taken out of his pockets, a half-smile even.

“Yeah. I…Yeah.”

The crowds of people simply moved around two statues standing still in the walkway, and Sirius simply changed the script. Quidditch shops would be there, so would the opportunity to buy Harry new shoes, and Sirius hope there would be time left yet for Harry to have a proper teenage meltdown over something trivial. It wasn’t that day, though, Florean Flortesques’s the opposite direction, and towards the entrance where Sirius had left his car in a muggle car park. It was summer, the heat only getting worse throughout the afternoon and the shop was busy, but they managed to find a spot to sit outside, Sirius waving his wand to cast a cooling charm around them, and pulling his sunglasses back over his eyes. Harry noticed, and hesitated to sit down, looking back at the busy shop.

“We can sit inside,” Harry said, “I think there was a table…”

“With all the chocolate spilled on it?” Sirius asked, “And that child with her sticky hands, no thanks.”

“You don’t know she had sticky hands,” Harry giggled a little, taking a spoonful of his chocolate ice cream putting it into his mouth. Sirius had asked if Harry wanted one of their other flavors, wanted toppings, or even sprinkles, but Harry just shook his head. Just chocolate.

“I could just tell. Kids always have sticky hands…”

“Did they have a lot of kids in Azkaban?” Harry asked, and Sirius immediately laughed, caught off guard by the quick-snark and the boldness of the statement, Harry ducking down to hide a smile behind another bite of ice cream. People around them turned at the loud, bright laughter, Sirius realizing it had been some time since he had laughed that hard.

“Fair enough, cheeky…” Sirius took a bite of his own ice cream--lemon-- noticing how the smile hadn’t left Harry’s face yet. Noticing how relaxed Harry looked for the first time all summer, more relaxed eating ice cream than he was in their tiny kitchen.

“I just mean I know…you have a hard time in sunlight, and it’s not like you wanted ice cream…you just thought I would…and--”

“I love ice cream, Harry. Actually, I don’t think I ate enough of it when I was your age or older. Professor Lupin always had to have a carton in the house though, we had a magical cupboard and--” Sirius stopped himself before he got carried away. Before thoughts of Remus and their beat up tiny flat from another lifetime ago crept too far into the forefront of his mind and he was unable to wish anything else for himself. Calling him Professor Lupin only did so much to distance himself from memories that Sirius used when dementors rolled around. He could forget about the cold ground and the aches in his body if he just thought of Sunday mornings and kisses over cups of coffee, a record playing and sun streaming in through second-hand curtains they had found in a bin at a yard sale.

“You had a cupboard in the dorm?” Harry asked.

Sirius laughed awkwardly, running a hand over the back of his hair quickly, “No, uhm…I meant when he came to visit…when I lived with your Dad. We…always made sure we had ice cream in the cool cupboard.”

“Oh,” Harry nodded, taking Sirius’s fumbled explanation at face value.

“And don’t worry about me and the outside…it’s good for me, and I know you like being outside…don’t you?”

“Yeah but inside is fine too if you--”

“Remember what I said when I asked about your bedroom? And if you wanted to change anything?” he asked, “Same with the Vegetable Catastrophe of Last Week? You’re allowed to have…preferences, and opinions, even. I’m not going to be cross at you for telling me how you feel. Ever. Even if its rude or…you’re not happy with someone or you’re really angry because beets are a terrible vegetable….I’d much rather know how you’re feeling.”

“Why?”

Sirius stalled, trying to keep his face neutral as he figured out a way to answer the question, knowing he had to do it quick or Harry would back peddle, ice cream apparently being the perfect tool to begin harder conversations, barriers melting in tandem with the treat, “...Why wouldn’t I?”

“...dunno…”

“There is…nothing in the world that I would rather concern myself with than how you are feeling, Harry. I have endless free time and endless money and…everything, but you’re my priority. Do you know that?”

“I guess.”

“You guess, nutter…” Sirius shook his head and Harry laughed a little, putting another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

“...Then…can we go home? After this? Please?”

It was later than usual the next day when Sirius finally heard Harry’s bedroom door open, and the light footsteps coming down the hall, his godson emerging wearing a new shirt and a pair of shorts they had bought yesterday. The comforting good morning was exchanged, Sirius standing up and immediately starting to prepare breakfast for Harry. Prepare tea the way Harry took it, a cup of water floating through the air and onto the table first. It wasn’t until they were halfway through, sounds of the waves through the open kitchen window, a bowl of fruit and two plates on the table that Harry looked up at Sirius.

“Sirius?”

“Everything alright?”

Harry nodded, and put down his fork slowly, “I was…wondering if today we could maybe go down to the beach? If you’re not busy.”

Sirius took a breath, trying to do his very best impression of nonchalant as he smiled at Harry, “Sure we can. We…can go after breakfast, if you’d like.”

#asks #grey answers #sirius black #harry potter #raising harry #work in process #an unpublish au

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