only a forgotten memory

Top Ten Awesome Fanfics *

* yep, not “all-time favourite”, because I cannot choose in all objectivity only ten fics. This list is a list of ten fics* chosen in my five main fandoms that I love and feel like they should be read, but it could have been ten others … It’s very hard to choose. One day I’ll do a real masterpost fic rec …
* yes, I’ve cheated. There are waaaaay more than just ten fics here … Sorry not sorry.

The lovely @justkeeponthegrass had a brillant idea : to make a collection of our favourite fanfics to show writers just how much we appreciate, respect and admire their work. I personally owe a great deal to fanfic writers, especially in the Merlin fandom, for they helped me get through a very hard period of my life. Fanfic writers have been and are constant companions of my life, whether I’m sad, happy, tired or feeling excited, they always deliver, they are amazing people who do an amazing work just because they like it. I admire the hell out of any of you, and the following ten titles, plus the special and honorable mentions, are me trying to tell you how much you mean. Very, very long post incoming …

Originally posted by whyso-se-ri0us

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My mind is blown over the fact that YUURI was the playboy in the Eros story all along. YUURI is the one that came into Victor’s life, seduced him for a night, and left him behind, smitten and forgotten, leaving Victor with only memories and photos.

Of course Yuuri was drunk off his ass and forgot he’d even done this, but nonetheless, it’s amazing and hilarious and such a wonderful twist. All that time with Yuuri being like “I can’t play this role,” and Victor’s sitting there like “uh hell yeah you can”, and now we know for certain why he was sure of that. 

The Silentbrother’s carriage had always made Tessa feel anxious. The way it drove through objects and over landforms like a ghost, and though she knew that they would pass through the closed gates of the institute, it never ceased to unsettle her.

Today was different though. She was anxious, but for another reason entirely.

She was done up in a simple olive dress that unbuttoned down the front—though it had to be, Tessa mused. Little James seemed to eat more than his father did. Her hair was braided simply and held at the back of her neck by a silver hair pin. She saw no need to dress up for the Silent City, even if Jem was there. He hardly cared for her physical appearance.

Across from Tessa sat her husband, his face obscured by dark curls as his head was bent looking at a small swaddled up bundle in his arms. Will had been that way the entire ride—looking up briefly at Tessa when James would open his eyes or coo the way babies did. Three times already had Will jerked up to exclaim, “Tess. Tessa, look. Look at him. Watch.”

She had smiled and shared his joy, though her mind was elsewhere.


She ran over every possible thought that he might have about her and Will’s small son. Happiness for one she was sure. It was Jem, he would always be happy for anything that brought happiness to Will or herself. Though she wondered, that in his secret heart of hearts if perhaps there would be some sadness, or worse, betrayal. She worried what he would think of her baby’s name, James. If he would look at it and think they had named him that as a memoir. That he was only a memory to them, and that they had forgotten he lived still.

Jem had not seen James yet, though he had been to the Institute on account of Will’s broken arm—that for one reason or another couldn’t have been healed with an iratze—when Tessa was eight months with James. Jem had known of the child before of course. It was he who had told her of him when she visited him on Blackfriars Bridge as they did every year.

They had sat against the balustrade of the bridge, hands laced. Tessa knew that he did not feel the physical contact. Not like she did at any rate, but he knew that she could feel it.

They had talked of everything—of her and Will, all the new children that just kept showing up—Cecily and Gabriel’s, Charlotte and Henry’s, Sophie and Gideon’s. She told him all the stories she had stored in her mind over the last year. The ones that she had turned to tell him only to realize that he was not there. That he was far beneath the stones and graves in the Silent City. They had sat almost the whole hour before his voice came in her mind, suddenly different from the tone he had used before. She didn’t imagine that most Silentbrothers really had a tone, and perhaps that was true for the rest, but she could always tell even the slightest change in Jem’s.

Tessa, he had said. And then he had said it. It had been blunt, and she had sat still, her hand going stiff in his, her mind racing. Elation was the first thing she felt. Then worry, and then fear. Was Jem hurt by it? Did he resent the blessing he had given her and Will?

Of course, Jem was there to comfort her and quell the thoughts.

I do not think ill of you, he had said. Neither do I think ill of Will. If there are two people who deserve happiness any more than you both, I could not name them. Will and I were one—we still are at one in our hearts, despite the physical distance, and you share both our hearts as well. To hate my own heart—to not feel joy when my heart does, he paused. Tessa, when you or Will rejoice, I rejoice. When you feel pain, I feel pain. Will once told me that I was his compass, and now it is his turn, and yours, to be my compass. We shared our hearts when we were young, and yours still beats and breaths and burns. And in that way, so does mine. Our hearts beat together, Tessa.

James cooed again and Will let out a laugh and his face broke out into an even larger grin. “Tess. Tess, look.”

She did. Little Jamie had both eyes open, and though they were unfocused as newborns were, he was staring up at Will, two pink chubby arms reaching out. Will laughed as James grabbed at one of his wayward curls, gripping and pulling his father’s head down.

It wasn’t hard for him to grab. Will hadn’t cut his hair and had hardly shaved in the last months of her pregnancy and the days following the delivery. He had been so worried and anxious and excited—more so than even herself.

“He’s got a good grip,” Will said, still laughing. Tessa moved over to the side he was seated on and leaned over his shoulder to peer down at their son. What they had created together.

“Hello Jamie,” she said rubbing back his dark wisps, the same color as his father’s, from his face. She would have held him, but she could not bear to take him away from Will. Ever since he had arrived Will had hardly set him down or given anyone else a turn, except for Tessa of course, though she had let him keep James for the most part, which usually included any time he wasn’t eating or sleeping, and even then he liked to hold him as he slept.

James pulled at his father’s curls again, this time harder so that Will’s head was further down and he could reach up and get another handful of black hair.

“Now why didn’t I think of that,” Tessa said, still petting at her son. “James, I might have to steal your idea. It seems to keep him in line doesn’t it.” And it had. The whole time James was having his fun gripping and pulling, Will had sat still, smiling down through his winces.

The carriage lurched to a halt, James fists losing from Will’s hair and a cry tearing from his throat. It appeared he had not liked the sudden stop anymore that Tessa did, though, like his father, he was quite inclined to share his opinion on the subject.

“Hey now,” Will said pulling him up to hold him close and rock him. It was such a funny sight, Tessa thought. Will had only grown broader since they had married, his arms now larger and more muscular than ever, and James looked so tiny in them. Though there was something else, less funny about it. The muscular arms around their son spoke a silent vow to keep him safe, to guard him against anything that might try to hurt him, and to comfort him should he need it.

The door to the carriage opened and a Silentbrother stood, hood drawn back. Welcome to the City of Bones, Herondale family. He held a stiff arm out towards the entrance.

Tessa held her breath. Will handed James over to her, carefully so that his head did not bob, and then exited the carriage. When he was down he helped her out, more help than was required by propriety, but Will had been nervous about her after the birth anyway, as it had not been an easy one, and she held their child in her arms.

The Brother led them into the Silent City and through the stone halls. Tessa was used to them by now though, and they no longer made her feel nervous or frightened. They shouldn’t have. She had been here enough times, very few times that weren’t in reason with Will and his antics to see his parabatai, and though she never minded seeing him and was glad at any chance, she sometimes wished she did not have to discuss her husband’s broken green toe with Brother Enoch, who took it in an uncomfortably serious manner.

I suspect, said Brother Enoch in front of them now, having been the one to lead them in, that you wish for Brother Zachariah to perform the ceremony.

“I will have no one else,” Will sounded absolute.

Brother Enoch did not respond, only continued to lead them down a series of winding hallways to a far door in one corridor.

Sister Magdalen and Brother Zachariah await you, was all he said.

Tessa and Will stopped outside the door. Will did not look at her, only straight ahead at the stone door. Tessa could see the excitement—it was the same look on his face every time he got to see Jem—but she could also see the worry in his posture and his blue eyes and she wondered if perhaps he had the same fears she did.

Holding James tighter to her bosom, she walked forward to the door. Will, seeming to come out of his daze, opened the door for her and allowed her to enter before doing the same and then closing it behind him.

The room was dimly lit by witchlight, as everything in the Silent City was, giving it an eerie glow and a cast shadows in every corner. In the middle of the room was a stone table, where she assumed she was to set her son. It looked very hard and unwelcoming to a newborn.

“Brother Zachariah,” said Will, even though he detested calling Jem that, there was an Iron Sister in the room and he did not want to get him in any trouble. “Sister Magdalen. We are here for the protection ritual for our son.”

“We are aware what you are here for, William and Theresa Herondale,” Sister Magdalen said. There was nothing harsh in her tone, neither was there anything welcoming, as was the case with the Brothers and Sisters of the Nephilim. It made Tessa see just how set apart Jem really was from them all. “Place the child on the stone slab and we shall begin.”

Jem had stood in the background, though when Tessa walked forward with the child he did the same, stopping at the table and pulling his hood back to expose his young face and closed eyes. The marks of the Brotherhood stood out stark on his cheekbones.

Tessa wrapped her sons blanket around him tighter as she went to place him on the table, though Will held up a hand to halt her and took his jacket off to place it on the table in a bundle so that it made a cradle of sort.

Smiling at the gesture, she pulled her son from her chest and laid him down on his father’s jacket. Jem stayed on one side of the table while Sister Magdalen moved to the other.

Then Jem spoke for the first time since they had entered the room.

And what is his name, he asked.

Tessa went still and looked to Will.

It was a moment before he spoke.

“His name is James,” he said. “James Herondale.”

The room seemed to go quieter than it already was. Even the howling dead seemed to still.

Little James cooed, breaking the void, and outstretched his tiny arms upward towards Jem, something his did often to Will and Tessa, but hardly to anyone else.

Jem stood stonily above him, his closed eyes staring down at James unseeingly. Though Tessa did not doubt that he saw. He saw more than anyone else, she believed. He had always seen her, he had seen Will, and the Brotherhood could not change that.

Then he turned, slowly, away from the table. Tessa was about to go forward but then he took his scarred hands and covered his equally scarred face, his shoulders turning in, and though he made no sound, Tessa knew he was weeping.

James continued to coo and make soft noises in the background.

This is my interpretation of the picture by Cassandra Jean. I’m not stealing her art, just using it as inspiration and I thought I’d post it with the story. We all know who drew it anyway. All characters are Cassandra Clare. Hope you guys liked it :)

art source: Cassandra Jean

Edit: I’m trying to get my followers up, so if you follow me, I’ll write a scene for you of your choice. I mean obviously there’s a limit on how much I can write, but for the first followers, let’s say 20 (if I ever get that many). Just write in the comments on here what you want me to write. Anything after 20 I’ll sift through and see if I love them.

Ten Minutes, Omegaverse

The third chapter! Here it is! Sorry for the delay, I remember that when I wrote this chapter it was the most difficult, it’s a little different from the others, what do you think? As alway thank you so much! Love you all

19 Days, Omegaverse AU

Chapter 3

He Tian x Mo GuanShan

In Between

The world is not just white or black, and as far as this concept for someone is pretty obvious, it is one of those things that He Tian had to learn on his own. Contrary to what many may think, it was a very difficult thing to understand, considering that in his family he was raised with relatively simple concepts: if you’re not strong than you’re weak, if you’re not rich you’re poor, you are someone or you are a nobody… you’re an Alpha, or you are not.

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anonymous asked:

My dream show would be dragon tales except that u made it

Two kids enter a world of dragons to escape from human life, but after the glitz and glamour of Dragon Land fades as they get accustomed to it they realize The land is a  corrupted world under the thumb of reptilian lords and all the ills that plague human life, in a dimension with physics and mathematics incomprehensible to the human mind.

They also learn that the the human Earth and the known universe is but the dream of a great coiled serpent that all of Dragonland rests upon. Anything in Dragonland that rings familiar and like their life back on Earth is only cause Earth is a hollow fabricated memory and an incomplete recreation of the world of dragons.

The kids, when the weight of Dragonland gets too harsh, can retreat back into the “real world”, but the world true to them is but a temporary dream and a false image of reality. When the world serpent wakes. All of humanity will exist as only forgotten thoughts and memories of the serpent, and all of Dragonland will be crushed under the Immense being’s coils as it tries to ascend elsewhere. 

The art style would remain exactly the same 


Hi, this was an interesting request! I liked it! Maybe one day, I’ll make a part two to this, it depends but thank you for sending in your request and hope you enjoy this!

“She is irreparably harmed because she saved me from that blow, Alfred!” Bruce growls, fists clenched tight by his side. His thoughts are just consumed with a lot of guilt, regret and even anger over the events that happened earlier that landed him in this situation.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred starts but Bruce shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the older man. The intensity behind the glare startles Alfred a lot.

“Do not try and tell me that this is not my fault!” Bruce all but shouts. “It is my fault, Alfred and now Y/N’s like that because of me. Do you know how that makes me feel?” Just the thought of you staring blankly at him hurts him and he finally breaks down. There are tears streaming down his face by the time he leans against the wall as he slides down to the floor. “It is my fault.”

Alfred is at a loss of words. He had not expected Bruce’s reaction to be like this. This was worse than when the family had lost Jason, had lost Damian and the thing is you are not even dead yet! Though deep down inside, Alfred is acutely aware as to why Bruce is being like this. Out of everyone in the family, Bruce had been the only one you had absolutely forgotten. There is no recollection of memories of Bruce Wayne in your mind at all.

“Master Bruce, Ms. Y/N is not beyond repair.” Alfred speaks after finally managing to gather his thoughts. “Y/N has a condition called retrograde amnesia and I know you are thinking of the worst right now – that is understandable too – but you just need to keep showing the missus everything you have together prior to the accident. Relive those memories the two of you loved and shared. Her memories will come back – it may take some time but they will come back.” Alfred takes out his handkerchief and hands it over to Bruce who at first stares at it blankly before taking said handkerchief from Alfred’s outstretched hand. He wipes the tears from his cheeks, blowing his nose on to the handkerchief. His mind is slowly starting to clear and he can think rationally now.

Bruce never thought this would ever happen to be quite honest but given the things his family has gone through up to this point, in hindsight, Bruce really should not have been surprised at all. The moment that doctor told him about you having amnesia, his world had darkened and there were a few moments where his vision blackened as well. It was horrible, horrifying.

His world came crashing down on him when the smile on your face disappeared, replaced by a frown and wariness that looked so out of place on your face and the first three words that came out of your mouth had been: “Who are you?”. It simply got worst from that point onwards – the boys had visited the hospital and you remembered each and every one of them perfectly, even to the point of what breakfast all of you had that morning. You knew everyone but him and it was like your head had been wiped clean of any memories of him!

Bruce honestly never even imagined this could have happened to you (he imagined this happening to him, in fact, it probably has happened before). You are his light, his anchor, his heart and his home and the fact that you remember nothing – not even the times you spent together as a couple, or the time he proposed – hurts him so much. Bruce felt as if someone had stuck a knife in his heart and is repeatedly twisting it.

Alfred’s words somewhat felt like he had been thrown a bucket of cold water. He needed it though. Bruce is forever thankful for Alfred’s presence in his life and right at that moment, he really is very grateful that Alfred has yet to give up on him. Bruce also doesn’t think he could have been able to stop himself from doing anything reckless the moment he heard the news from the doctor. He also doesn’t think the boys could have stopped him too.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce gets up from the floor, pocketing the handkerchief, looking less angry and more tired though not resigned at all. “I think I am ready to face this. I just need the night to myself for a little bit, need to sort out my thoughts.” Bruce tells the older man he has come to think of as his second father. He needs to gather up all the things the two of you used to do together so that he can face you tomorrow. “Can you make sure Y’N is fed and takes her medication on time tonight?” Bruce looks at Alfred.

“You need not ask, Master Bruce. Of course.”

Bruce finally cracks a small smile. “Thank you again, Alfred.” He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I will see you in the morning.” Bruce excuses himself, heading to another part of the manor because at that moment, he doesn’t quite think he is ready to sleep in the bedroom the both of you have shared before, at least not when you have no memories of him.

The fact that I only exist in our past, forgotten memories hurts too much.

It’s sad it’s been months since we last talked properly. It’s sad that I don’t know anything about you anymore. It hurts remembering how I planned my whole life with you and now everything is falling apart.

I want you back, but you abandoning me hurt too much, and it left scars on my already broken heart and I know that I won’t survive another heartache.

It’s sad, it hurts it’s disappointing, but I can’t do anything but watch myself fall apart while trying to make myself believe that I can live without you and that I don’t need you.

asklokiande  asked:

I heard somewhere that elves in Middle Earth/Arda can speak telepathically? Is that true or just fan speculation? And if it is true, is it something all elves can do, like an innate ability, or is it something only certain elves can do? Noldo, Silvan, etc?

Thank you for the question! It is canon.

In book!Return of the King, Galadriel, Elrond, and Celeborn (and Gandalf) communicate telepathically:

“If any wanderer had chanced to pass, little would he have seen or heard, and it would have seemed to him only that he saw grey figures, carved in stone, memorials of forgotten things now lost in unpeopled lands. For they did not move or speak with mouth, looking from mind to mind: and only their shining eyes stirred and kindled as their thoughts went to and fro. “

So yes: Elven telepathy is confirmed canon.

Tolkien also wrote an 8-page essay on how telepathy works in Middle Earth, because of course he did. The gist of it is that technically everyone in Middle-Earth is capable of “osanwe” (telepathic communication). However, telepathy is wayyyyy easier for elves because they’re more “ethereal/spiritual” than the very “earth-bound” dwarves/hobbits/men.

After the Last Guardian

The first time Artemis left, Angeline and Artemis the senior were extremely depressed. They still carried on, however, and gave birth to Beckett and Myles, leaving them forever confused on why their mother often locked herself in her room and cried. But three years later, Artemis returned, and Angeline knew him would, for he had promised to come back. Yet this time he left again. Angeline, deep down in her heart, knew he would never come back again, he was dead, they had hosted his funeral. But a part of her always longed for her little boy, wishing he could come back to her. For days on she cried, and prayed, locked up Artemis’s room, and never spoke of him again, all the while crying, her tears barely ever stopping. Over the years, Beckett and Myles grew up, and slowly, their older brother drifted to the back of their minds, nearly forgotten, the memory of his face becoming only a blur. But one day, he came, flanked by Holly and Butler. Butler had his entire attention focused on the ground, and Holly was looking at Angeline, her face apologetic. In between them, raven hair, cold blue eyes, tall, pale, and slender. Though the two boys looked identical, they were physically two different people, this one was not the same boy everyone had once loved. But his soul was still the same, yet the soul didn’t remember, didn’t know, and therefore this boy could not understand nor love them the same as the one before. His head was cocked to the side, starting at his supposed mother and father with distant eyes as if he had been told who they were, yet still regarded them as strangers. And Angeline collapsed, on to the ground, and sobbed again. For she always knew, deep down, that her boy would never fully return.

Sorry this is my first headcanon, it kind if sucks. When I first though if it, I lived it and I was very sad of my own story. But when I wrote it it wasn’t nearly half as good. Anyways.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” Concern never wore Derek well, but I had passed the point of unease a few hours earlier.

“As many as it takes to not find her name at the bottom of a bottle.” I tried to hold eye contact, but I didn’t need the care ebbing off his skin to reduce me to tears.

“Whatever, dude. 6am comes earlier than you want it to, but don’t be calling me for a ride to work because you can’t remember which block you left your car around.”

I closed my eyes and pretended to sway to the music. “Look, the car’s in a parking garage. I’m not worried about the car, I called you because I don’t think I’d want to get home if I got in it.” I opened my eyes slowly and looked carefully at his eyes, how the skin was darkened around them. “Home isn’t a place. It’s where you feel right.”

“And where the hell is that?” I shrugged in a small way, “In your skin. No one else can tell you exactly where. But it’s when you’re stuck in a place, still as stone, when something spurs you to move a hand or a foot. And that something’s separate from anyone else in the world. You’re the only person who can make you want to move again.”

Derek breathed in and out slowly, quietly as we stood there, islands in the dark. “Where do I move to?” I thought a moment. “Anywhere that feels true. Steps to where you can feel right again.” He looked away from the table with the drink he put down, glanced at the exit, looked at me. I nodded, “I’m with you wherever you go.”

I almost felt guilty for stopping for another one on the same street Derek and I hugged goodbye just moments before But I pondered on each sip, knowing the memories are things that can only be forgotten if you choose to turn the other way.

Stars in the Night: The Massage

In light of my back pain, I decided to write a little something for Stars in the Night. Further depicting hOW CUTE NOCT AND STELLA ARE TOGETHER <33 I love these two so much. They give me life.

Tagging the soulmate squad: @nifwrites, @themissimmortal, @cupnoodle-queen

Stella only felt a fraction of her husband pain. He was tense to say the least, yet he kept a strong expression. No one even dared to suspect the pain that stabbed at the young King’s back.

The day carried on like it always did. Audiences with the King began at sundown as it did at the beginning of every week. It was during the time that the citizen’s could enter the Citadel and voice their concerns with the King and the Queen.

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He was young and sought to find his place in the world 

He hoped to make that world a better place

He fought to make that world a better place

He gave his love to make that world a better place

He gave his life to make that world a better place

He gave his very being to make that world a better place

Only to be forgotten and whipped away from the memory of that world

He was a young man learning who he was, learning where he belonged in the world

He could have been a greater he hero than he was but he was never give the chance

He will be missed by the few who truly understood him and learned to love and appreciate his efforts.

NEW 52 Superman forever the hero of the people, truly selfless, A TRUE SUPERMAN

We were the lucky ones…


He was the closest thing to what his Jewish immigrant creators envisioned in the Golden Age. A man who stood up to crooked politicians, corrupt businessmen, child molesters etc. He was  a reporter  who wanted to get back to real and good journalism, willing to walk out his job and take a stand against big media moguls and fight for social change and justice. He embraced his heritage  while valuing his upbringing of his adopted planet.His biological parents were moral people as were his earth parents. He did not have it easy. He faced xenophobia and battled cancer. He had to own who/ what he was and he took a stance that made some folks uncomfortable. No one person defined his goodness, morality and choices. DC killed him because of all this. Because he was probably too topical, not conservative, classic and safe and not doing what your father or his father considered as their Superman. He  was too young, they said…he came out at 22, embraced his gifts, was passionate and idealistic. Then there was a five year jump  where we followed his adventures when he as 28 years old into his early 30ties…too young?! Or is that DC telling new 52 fans be quiet…you know nothing…the pov of the older individual ( the aging fans) matters alone so Superman only needs to be the married father figure with the all american looking family. That is some bs right there. Superman just needs to be a hero. A hero comes in all shapes, sizes, ages, genders, races, married or single. It just takes good writing, which we had if anyone goes back and read those stories.

If the world today needed a Superman to deal with it I take new 52 Superman any day. He is one of the best versions I have read.  And no cheating, lame merger of the Rebirth Superman stealing his life, history and place which DC seems to be conniving can fool us into accepting Rebirth Superman could ever be him. I have the new 52 Superman books and will cherish those stories by Morrison, Pak and Soule. 

NDRV3 Fic Recs!

The Habits of Super High School Level Students by gonta

Characters: Kiibo, Ouma, Ensemble

Summary: Kiibo and Ouma make a nature documentary. The subject? Their classmates, of course.

Ordinary Days by gonta and starrynova

Characters: Ensemble

Summary: This is the story of a particularly interesting class that attended Hope’s Peak. (NDRV3 Hope’s Peak AU)

caught in the mouth of it by dabblingDilettante

Characters: Saihara, Kaede

Summary: A good detective should know when people are lying.

home (is wherever i’m with you) by asexualsil 

Characters: Kaede, Saihara

Relationships: Kaede/Saihara

Summary: You can be an artist, you can play piano or write poetry at a surprisingly early hour, but you can also simply be.

Tick Tock by Stormyevenings

Characters: Tenko, Saihara, Ensemble

Relationships: Tenko/Himiko

Summary: But most of all, certainly did not expect to find Tenko Chabashira standing at his side, eyes swollen with a pair of scissors pointed directly at his nose. Or; Saihara cuts Tenko’s hair

life could be beautiful by idaate

Characters: Ensemble

Summary: The NDRV3 cast post-game, throughout the years. (Contains endgame spoilers)

(check out their other fics too! all of them are really good!)

A Real Girl by grayimperia

Characters: Amami, Shirogane

Summary: Shirogane has a talk with Amami. It doesn’t go well. (Contains endgame spoilers.)

Forgotten Memories Can Only Leave Room For New Ones by psythewriter

Characters: Tenko, Saihara, Kaede, Himiko

Summary: Tenko meets Shuuichi Saihara. (Contains endgame spoilers)

i wanna tell you (be brave) by asexualsil

Characters: Kaede, Maizono, Saihara, Mukuro, Ensemble

Relationships: Kaede/Saihara, Mukuro/Sayaka, other background ones

Summary: Kaede doubts her life choices, Shuichi doubts his friend choices, Mukuro is gay, and Sayaka has too much fun. (HPA Fusion)

Ephemeroptera by caeligena

Characters: Angie, Gonta

Relationships: Angie/Gonta

Summary: She receives a warning after her seventeenth birthday. (Contains endgame spoilers.)

Maximum Verdancy by corgasbord 

Characters: Kaito, Amami

Relationships: Kaito/Amami

Summary: Kaito stumbles across Rantarou in the school greenhouse, and is pleasantly surprised to discover that someone else shares his appreciation for plants.

cat therapy by Dunyazad

Characters: Kaede, Saihara

Relationships: Kaede/Saihara

Summary: shuuichi is afraid of animals, and kaede supports him in the only way she knows how.


I will happily move toward
The ideas you see fit.
So long as the reward I receive
Owns me like it does you.
The design outlined in the dust
Ripples, flutters into time.
Only our memories
Will inevitably be forgotten.
Please remember.
Anything to help
Me change the future.

- Christopher Thompson


네가 없는 이 세상에서 나 혼자 너를 위해 울었다

I Alone Cried For You In a World Without You

Now feel the feels from Elsword’s perspective

At last
We restored the El.
The restoration of El that we wanted so much…

Ain, we did it!

… Ain?



… Did it hurt?


When you disappeared… did it hurt?

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Pages and pages of memories… A lot of which Steven barely remembers. He sits flicking through one of the old photo albums that his Dad had graciously allowed him to borrow. It’s been a while since he’s looked through them, and even longer since he last found a new addition for his side table. Surely, there must be another photograph of his mother in here that would breathe some new life into the display, so that he didn’t just have to look at the same old same old each day.

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in which Arnie Niekamp’s daughter prays.
(based off of
Hello from the Magic Tavern)
by julia gaskill

Mom never talks about you.

There is no vexation in the way
she dances her tongue to avoid your name.

She just … doesn’t talk about you …

Smiles her beauty when I ask about Dad
as if stumbling upon a forgotten memory,
only to have it then slip from her face
as she remembers an errand in need of doing.

This happens to everyone who knew you.
Uncle Adal too busy twisting puns
to answer my questions.

No one will listen to me
when I tell them of my tavern dreams,
how I cannot go to sleep without hearing a vibraslap,
the way orcs and badgers and real estate agents
float through my head when I close my eyes.

I know they have to do with you.
I do not know why this is.

No one has seen you in years,
but I know you are alive.
Know it like the whispering of a flickered candle,
like a stone smashed against an open wound.

The kids at school tell me you are dead
or with a new family who brings you joy,
but I know there is more magic to it than that.

I pick a flower on my way home from school,
ask it “he loves me” “he loves me not
and it always lands on “he loves me

and I know that this must mean you love me
and I know that this must mean you are trying to get home.

I keep rocks in my pockets these days.
I kick trees on a whim.
I drink only red liquids.
I tell myself this routine will bring you back.

I point out the old man in green across the street,
and Mom says to avoid eye contact,
but he looks at me like he’s seen a ghost
or like he himself is a hungered ghost.

I overheard Mom tell Uncle Adal that
a voice speaks inside her head;
dropped a plate the other day
when the weathered voice caught her off guard.
Uncle Adal said “crazy” - said “therapist.”

I am the only one who believes her fable.

How there is magic in the feel of our family.
How hope is a dimension we have built a home within.

I picked another flower today, asking it,
he’ll come home” “he won’t come home
he’ll come home” “he won’t come home

he’ll come home”
he’ll come home
he’ll come home

Please, Dad.
Please come home.