The Gentleness Of Caring

god keep ur fucking kink meme shit out of ao3 tag y'all make this fandom even more insufferable than it already is and thats saying something!!! The kind of shit y'all post require a fucking trigger warning it doesnt belong in a safe space

Blister & Blood

Event: Angstpril 2025 ; hosted by @chaos-company Prompt: Day 5 ALTERNATE—Major Injury Fandom: Arcane Ship: Silco x Vander | Vanco Rating: M Tags: MCD, anti-Vander. No, seriously. Bad guy Vander. Vulnerable Silco. Canon Divergence.

Silco looked at the drawing he made of him and Vander, smiling down softly at their colours melding into each other. It was one of their better days—coming up with their Blister & Bedrock mantra. A vow to create a safe space for all the children, and their children. But, those days started getting fewer in between.

When Felicia died, so did the goodness between him and Vander, until one day.

Vander was on something that Silco couldn’t identify, at the end, he could just have started hating Silco. As if it was only Silco’s job to keep Felicia safe. All he knew was that Vander blamed him. And one day. Silco decided to fight back.

He decided to stand up for himself, to say that it wasn’t only on Silco and that it wasn’t right for Vander to keep fucking blaming him and reminding Silco of everything that they had lost.

He very quickly realised he made the wrong choice when Vander pushed him up face first against the wall and ground his head into the jutting brick. He tried to close his eyes but he could feel the pricks of the brick against his face before he could fully manage it. He felt something wet roll down his face, but he knew he couldn’t be crying—the other option seemed too harrowing to accept.

Vander pressed his pelvis into Silco’s back, and he could feel his entire body get crushed against the wall. It stuck through his clothes, and tore the more sensitive fabrics, and Vander just pushed his head further into the wall before leaning closer.

“Where do you get off telling me it’s my fault? Telling ME that I had to do MORE? You’re just a sniveling goddamn brat that didn’t get enough attention in this godforsaken place. You’d be nothing without me.” Silco could hear the sneer in Vander’s voice, and it broke small parts of him that he wasn’t sure had existed anymore. The abandoned boy inside of him cried out in pain and fear.

“I…didn..I didn’t say. You..” He couldn’t find his voice. Couldn’t keep it even.

“YES YOU DID! My fault that Felicia died? God,” Vander’s chuckle was hollow, “I loved her. I would never have let anything happen to her.” There was a sick satisfaction in Silco’s chest. Confirmation on something that he had suspected for years. That Vander only started dating Silco to get closer to Felicia, and since she died. Vander didn’t care about him anymore. 

Silco knew that Vander’s temper was short, and that it snapped because the next moment his face was being crushed by the wall. Vander held Silco’s hair in a tight grip and started smashing his head against it. 

Silco couldn’t feel the pain anymore, but he felt a sharp burning in his abdomen, but he couldn’t place if it was a blade or not. He could start to see little orbs of light floating in his vision. Looking like specks of dust but in a rainbow of colours, and he almost gasped at the beauty.

All in all. He had an extremely good life. He had morals and he was at the forefront of a revolution. Two little girls who he could hold when they were sad, and sometimes help them to feel better. His vision went black, and he could feel his breathing shallow out while his body was being used like a ragdoll for frustration.

It’s enough that it’d been good.

It had to be enough.

When it all comes down

Event: Angstpril 2025 ; hosted by @chaos-company Prompt: Day 4—"I trusted you" Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Ship: Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku | BakuDeku Rating: M Tags: MCD

The fight was nothing that Bakugou had ever seen before. It took everything he had not to run into the fray, but he had strict orders to stay on the sidelines. The villain that they were apprehending had a multiplication quirk. Multiplying every attack thrown his way. And if Bakugou got involved, everyone in the surroundings would be in danger. His explosions would burn everything in the surroundings to the fucking ground, and it was driving him insane.

De—Izuku was there. In the middle of all of it. Their relationship wasn’t common knowledge, but it was something big and important enough for Bakugou to feel that his entire heart and soul was out there on the battlefield.

He was supposed to do recon and catch any flyaway villains, but his eyes were glued to the intense battle in the middle of the city block.

Izuku was chosen because his quirk wasn’t natural. He was chosen for his. And it was the one loophole they could find where the villain’s quirk wouldn’t work, but it didn’t help that the villain touched everyone he could to get to Izuku.

He was pacing, and he had enough of their friends watching him from the corner of their eyes, confused at his actions.

He couldn’t care about their questioning glances, or the theories running around in their minds, until… the villain threw Izuku with strength akin to Gigantomachia’s. 

He fell from the sky like a ragdoll, and Bakugou’s mind completely blanked. He didn’t think about the other Heroes, or the civilians, or even the fucking Villain that put them in that position to start. He used his explosions to fly to Izuku, but he wasn’t fast enough. He heard the sickening crack on the sidewalk and he faltered. That second of fear was enough for him to lose his momentum and fall close to where Izuku did.

It felt like the whole world was on fire, but Bakugou army-crawled through the debris to get closer. The villain was busy breaking everything down. Buildings were on fire, and crumbling, but Bakugou got to him.

The sight was one that Bakugou had seen all through their High School career. Izuku broken, in pain, and bleeding. But this time. Something was different. People were starting to crowd around them but Bakugou threw indiscriminate blasts all around them to keep the onlookers away. 

“Izuku? Baby, please…” He whispered, but. There was no reaction. Izuku didn’t suddenly start breathing, or open his pretty green eyes to stare at Bakugou and ask what he was on about.

Bakugou tried to do CPR, but he couldn’t focus long enough to do it properly. He just ended up punching at Izuku’s chest trying to get a reaction…any reaction. But nothing was working.

He couldn’t end this way. It.. couldn’t. Him and Izuku were still figuring out their lives, trying to get it on track. They. Wanted to work on their issues to the point where they could tell their friends about their relationship, but they couldn’t get it right..not yet.

He tore open Izuku’s stupidly complicated Hero costume, but even then, he had no idea where to go. He wasn’t a medical Hero. He wasn’t someone who knew what to do.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME, IZUKU. YOU CAN’T… LEAVE.” Bakugou put his ear to Izuku’s chest as he pushed his fingers against the pulse point, but there was nothing. Just a straight line of zero activity. Bakugou also couldn’t feel any breath release from Izuku’s mouth or nose.

Everything around Bakugou was crumbling, just like the buildings in the city block. He was being pelted with debris, and when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he sent another blast. He heard a small yelp, and he was just glad that the person was moving away. Disappearing from his bubble.

“YOU FUCKING DEKU. YOU BETTER. JUST…” His throat was raw from the yelling and he was getting tired. He was… giving up.

He rolled onto his knees and held Izuku’s tattered costume in his hands.

He could feel his eyes welling up, but he looked into the sun to try and keep the tears at bay.

“I trusted you. I trusted you to stay. To build a life with me. To,” stay. He couldn’t say it out loud, because. Izuku was supposed to be different. He was…supposed to be the one.

Bakugou got pulled away from Izuku’s body and he was swarmed by other Heroes. Some were glaring at him, others just looked at him and he could see the questions in their eyes.

Izuku was taken away from Bakugou.

And the further away he got. The more Bakugou broke.

Everything…was gone.

Somehow. This broke my brain, but also, in a weird way, explains why people on Twitter are essentially calling darkfic writers abusers and glorifying abuse because if you had to have sex to write smut, of course you have to be a shit person to write dead dove fics.

Also, I think writing sex as what you, as an individual, think it is can be a beautiful thing. Maybe more of us should do that. Write it as poetry—as a homecoming. Something tangible and beautiful.

Do you think people who are virgin should write smut? I feel like most of them don’t even know what they’re writing and just write what they think sex is

the implication this ask suggests that people who write about murders, cannibalism, politics, magic, royalty au, sci-fi, wars, supernatural, time travel, medieval era, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins must be murderers, cannibals, presidents, wizards, royalties, astronauts, ghost hunters, soldiers, time travelers, knights, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins in real life is so funny to me

Shatter

Event: Angstpril 2025 ; hosted by @chaos-company Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Castiel x Dean Winchester | Destiel Rating: T Tags: My boyfriend said it ouch in a good way (he said I can quote him on it)

It will forever be one of Dean’s biggest regrets. Not saying anything, taking the time to process what was actually said, and not responding—not reacting in any way. Cas had said the words so softly that Dean wasn’t sure what it was, until the words branded themselves in his brain. Something he’d never be able to wash off or forget.

I love you

That was what left Cas’ lips. He could feel the anguish from the angel more than he could hear it. The words spoken as a last resort. His way of letting Dean into the deepest parts of him yet unexplored by any mortal being. Parts that Dean had subliminally been begging for over the years they’d spent together.

Little echoes of Cas’ voice lingered, when the man himself didn't. Dean tried to convince himself that it wasn’t Cas’ choice. That nobody could have foreseen him being swallowed into Hell as the conclusion to the story, and Dean knew. He couldn’t go back there. He had a one free access pass to Crowley’s domain and he had already used it.

A year before when a demon pulled Cas away from Dean. Again in a situation just like he was faced with right then.

Dean could hear the crack when he fell to his knees in that dusty warehouse. The place that was forever immortalised as where their story began—and ended. No interlude, no body of work. Just Cas saying those wretched words that Dean had waited for. Begged for. Dreamed about.

He stared at the spot where Cas was standing only moments before.

Saw the tears that glimmered as he said the words an angel was banned to speak. But, for Dean, he let go of propriety yet again.

The moment was akin to a heated blade searing its way into Dean’s stomach. On the inside there would barely be a mark to show what he had gone through, but god. The pain.

His throat felt raw and it was only when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder that he realised it’d been him screaming. Yelling out for an angel no longer there, a miracle that was never his for the taking.

A prayer that wouldn’t get answered.

“I love you too.” Words that he whispered so soft, with only himself and Sam as witnesses to the weighted statement. One that Cas would never hear.

And what tore Dean apart was that now, with only Crowley and kin for company, Cas would never know how loved he really was. How highly ranked he really was in Dean’s head.

That all the sacrifices and deviance from his path had never been for nought.

That he was who Dean turned to in times of need and elation.

“I LOVE YOU.” The second time he used all of his strength to scream. All the feelings that he’d bottled up under the guise of needing to get the job done, and that they weren’t ready, flowed into his voice. And for only a second, he could pretend that Cas heard it.

That he wasn’t too late, and that Cas would come back.

For a second. He could believe that it would be alright.

“U think House is a bottom bc u r ableist and don’t think disabled people can top blah blah blah” no I think he’s a bottom bc of that one scene where him and Wilson r talking abt blood types and Wilson says his blood type is the universal receiver so House responds that Wilson’s blood type is the universal donor which is why he has 3 alimonies

The Art of Forgetting

Event: Angstpril 2025, hosted by: @chaos-company

Prompt: Day 1: Forgotten

Fandom: 9-1-1

Ship/Romantic Attachment: Eddie Diaz/Evan "Buck" Buckley | Buddie

Rating: T

A little back posting because I definitely only found this event today \(^.^)/

To the world it was supposed to be a beautiful, cloudy Tuesday morning. To Eddie and Christopher, it was something completely different. The atmosphere felt heavy, and like gravity was pushing down on their lungs. Christopher had lost something, and it was so tangible that Eddie felt the melancholy of the moment.

They had both lost something, and Eddie, for the life of him, couldn't remember anything that he used to find comfort in. The way that Buck’s smile would crinkle in the corners of his eyes, and how light his laugh sounded. Most of the time it could be mistaken for a chorus flying on the wings of the Southeastern wind.

No matter how many people told him it was the wrong choice, he hadn’t left El Paso. He never went back to Los Angeles to rejoin the 118 firehouse. Now, it was too late, and everyone moved on. Everyone. Including.

Baby blue eyes that could smash any wall that Eddie had ever dreamed to build around his heart. But ten years later.

Ten years later, he was starting to lose touch.

Those crows feet around Buck’s eyes were softening out into a bleary view. His voice starting to fade into ether where Eddie knew he couldn’t follow. Some days Eddie had to pinch himself to remember that his name was Evan Buckley, not just the frat boy nickname he picked to be called. And Christopher. He knew that something was wrong.

They had moved during such a turbulent time that Eddie knew that Chris felt the empty space that’s only coincidentally Buck-shaped. A good parent, would make sure Buck doesn’t stay forgotten in his son’s mind—or a figment of his imagination. A heartbroken man, however, will continue to live in the fantasy his son created where they never lost their other half.

It was too late to call. Or, to try and re-forge the bonds he already threw away. 

He put his phone down, and tried to close his eyes. It’s better to just sleep away the pain before he could drown in it.

“I begin, about 12, with writing materials, write a few lines, then get a glass of water — another line or so — smoke a cigarette — another line — play with the kitten — and then break for a cup of tea. But somehow, a book does get written.”

--Ethel Lina White on her writing process

🕯️ from the crypt...

✦ the offering that was never accepted by the gods ✦ sharpening your teeth just to wear out your vocal cords screaming ✦ isolation

dead dove | tragedy | problematic relationships. snippet under the line ✦ as seen on twitter

"His breathing was shallow and the shadows underneath his eyes told stories of grief that nobody could understand. There was a collective sigh of relief when he finally wrestled the door open, and disappeared behind the drapes of obscurity once again. The city started moving again, unaware of the tragedy being orchestrated from the dark."

@ my boyfriend who is now included in all of my brainrot and character shipping and bashing. <3

Me when I finally found someone to share all of my writer brainrot autism and stories and characters with