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I already said this on Twitter, but it’s still not enough, so I’ll say it here too.
I reread the extras. And this one — the memory loss extra with Xie Lian — is literally one of my absolute favourites. 🥰
We all remember the state he wakes up in, right?
Broken. Soft. Bruises on his thighs, marks on his throat, a body that is still trembling from everything that was done to him all night…
and at the same time emptied and filled. As if someone had turned him inside out and put him back together again, but this time only out of love and desire.
MXTX shows it quietly, but very clearly:
Hua Cheng wasn’t simply “making love” to him. He took him — slowly, tenderly, and without mercy — and Xie Lian let him.
Hell, he wanted it. He gave himself completely, knowing full well he was strong enough to say “stop” at any moment…
but he never did.
And this detail kills me every single time: Hua Cheng would never have done a single thing if Xie Lian had refused.
Xie Lian just looks at him with those clear eyes and silently says:
“Take everything you want. I’m yours.”
I sat there blushing while reading it. 🫣🤭
Not from the explicitness or the intimacy, but from how deeply they are inside each other.
How completely Xie Lian trusts. How Hua Cheng worships him even in his darkest, greediest desires.
This isn’t just kink.
This is love that has become flesh.
And it is monstrously, terribly, unbearably beautiful.
I still catch myself smiling sometimes when I remember Xie Lian waking up in the morning… just lying there, wrecked and loved.
And thinking: “God, they’re so good together.”
And I’ll say it again — the words from that tweet that I fully support (and deep down desperately want to come true):
if it weren’t for this goddamn censorship, MXTX would have written all of this for us in new chapters.
You know that feeling when you put down the final period, close the document, and the room suddenly gets too quiet?
The silence is almost deafening.
You stare at the screen where life was thriving just seconds ago—where your characters were fighting, loving, making mistakes, and searching for a way out—and now… that’s it. Finale. The end. You’re the one who let them go off into the sunset.
And inside, two completely different universes are unfolding at the same time. On one hand, it's pure, wild euphoria. I DID IT. A rush of endorphins, pride, and this overwhelming urge to hug the whole world and scream to the entire internet: “Look, it’s finished! I finally wrapped up this fic!” You’re free! You’ve resurfaced from the depths of the plot!
On the other hand… that classic “post-fiction depression” sets in.
You’re standing outside the locked door of a cozy house you spent months building, the keys handed over to the characters, leaving you out in the cold wind. And inside, a huge, ringing emptiness begins to expand. Who am I supposed to save at 3 a.m. now? Who do I think about on my way to the grocery store? Whose dialogue am I going to loop in my head before falling asleep?
They aren't waiting for your lines anymore. They’re moving on, living their own lives—without you.
And there you are, sitting on the floor amidst gigabytes of emotional exhaustion and the indescribable feeling that you’ve just lost your best friends—even though you were the one who let them go. It’s a triumph and a quiet little tragedy all at once.
But then I look at my hands and realize they just created a whole entire universe.
I made it to the end where so many give up, giving these characters a voice, a world, and a closure. It’s not just a small win—it’s real, glowing creative magic.
I poured a piece of my soul into this story, and it’s okay to feel a draft where that piece used to be.
I created something beautiful. And that in itself is a victory. 🤍✨
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After the rehearsal, only silence remains in the hall. Words that have almost been said. And the rain, under which it becomes especially hard to keep pretending.
The hatred is no longer so sharp. What remains are the barbs, the fatigue, and looks that last too long.
And the stage demands more and more: to look into each other’s eyes, to touch wrists, to speak words that are becoming harder and harder to pass off as just lines.
In a school where everyone’s role has long been assigned, Mu Qing is the bright, untouchable king of the hallways. Feng Xin is the one almost no one notices.
When the school theater takes on Romeo and Juliet, one mistake in the casting lists puts them on the same stage. One is given the role of Romeo. The other — Juliet.
From the very beginning there is only coldness, sharp words, and a shared desire to get these rehearsals over with. But the stage demands closeness. Looks. Touches. Words that become harder and harder to speak without real emotion.
And all around them — watching eyes and rules that do not forgive mistakes.
Sometimes the most dangerous things begin before the curtain even rises.
Sometimes even the shortest trip is enough to help you reset a little.
This time, I took a small trip to Latvia, Riga🇦🇹. No big plans, no pressure to "see everything." Just a chance to change the scenery, wander through unfamiliar streets, admire old buildings, and experience the city's own pace.
I've always loved this kind of travel. It's not about checking landmarks off a list—it's about the feeling. Finding a cozy little street by accident. Watching a beautiful sunset. Having a cup of coffee somewhere you've never been before. That moment when you stop, look around, and think, "It's so nice here."
Sometimes these short trips remind me that the world is so much bigger than our everyday routine of work, home, and back again.
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"This is it. This week I'll finally get everything done."
And every week life just looks at me with a faint smile and says:
"We'll see."
So far, I'm definitely losing.
Sometimes it feels like I'm not creating anything at all. I'm not writing a chapter, not finishing ideas, not moving forward as quickly as I'd like.
But then I remember that creativity isn't just the moment your fingers are flying across the keyboard. Sometimes it happens quietly, somewhere beneath the surface. While you're on your way to work. While you're drinking coffee. While you're simply thinking about your stories and the characters who live in them.
So today is a quiet kind of day.
Drinking coffee.
Thinking about fictional characters more than real people.
Trying not to be too hard on myself for moving slower than I wanted.
When Xie Lian and Hua Cheng ascend the mountain at the villagers’ request to neutralize an ancient artifact, Hua Cheng leaves the cave for only a few minutes.
Upon his return, His Highness is gone.
In his place sits a tiny white ferret that immediately reaches out to him and refuses to leave his side. A simple mission suddenly turns into something far more unexpected.
Now a new resident has appeared in Ghost City — fluffy, curious, and eerily familiar. And Hua Cheng can’t shake the feeling that this small creature with its glossy black eyes seems strangely dear to him.
If you enjoy soft fluff, tender care, and Hua Cheng in full “I would turn the world upside down for you” mode, I’d be really happy if you check it out. Comments and kudos are always appreciated 💕
I used to make edits pretty often and post them on TikTok. Then life got busy... and at some point I ended up losing access to that account. It happens.
Thankfully, I still have the videos themselves.
So I've decided to slowly move them over to YouTube. It feels like a shame to let little pieces of my creativity sit forgotten in a folder on my computer.
Today I uploaded a small Bungou Stray Dogs edit set to "І я на небі" by Okean Elzy.
If you enjoy BSD, like watching edits, or simply want to support another one of my creative little adventures, I'd be really happy if you checked it out. 🤍
WHY ARE YOU WRITING FANFIC WHEN YOU ALSO WRITE ORIGINAL STORIES?!
Yes, someone literally shouted that in my face.
And the answer is relatively simple, although it might be shocking to some:
why couldn't I write both?
BOTH IS GOOD.
(yes, that gif from The Road to El Dorado never gets old, tbh, watch this movie if you somehow don't know it yet)
Ok, there goes my rant - under the cut.
I know I don't often post something of this length, but I'm mostly busy with work and what I'm creating.
But I think I want to vent.
It's going to be a bit autoethnographic, because everything I'm describing is a personal experience supported by subjective feelings. But the researcher's personal feelings don't detract from the conclusions or the process being described, tbh.
Especially in a field like writing.
So, can you accuse someone of being less of a creator because they don't have any published works, but only work available for free (usually published under a pseudonym) on fan sites, and what they write is embedded in a universe they love so much that they wanted to contribute?
I'll be honest, I wasn't interested in this phenomenon for a long time. I knew it existed, I knew there were websites dedicated to it, I knew what "ships" were. But I didn't feel the need to delve deeper into the subject. I had a few favorite series – for example:
WITCH (a comic books/animated series from the early 2000s),
Avatar: The Last Airbender,
Fullmetal Alchemist (a manga and both anime series – I know Brotherhood is more well-known).
Watching and reading about the adventures of the characters has always been a great escape for me - only later did I begin to notice how much influence these series had on what I create and what themes interest me most.
I love all the different aspects of these series. But none of them really clicked for me like...
TRANSFORMERS.
How can I logically explain this? Everyone finds "something" that captivates them so much that they devour media related to it in an addictive way. For some, it's fishing, for others, photography, for still others.
And for me, it's stories set in a universe about giant, space robots.
And that's cool.
And it was this series that really clicked for me, to the point where I even started thinking about writing fanfiction set in this universe.
Why? I can answer as I did in one of my posts: because I wanted to deliver an interesting story.
And I guess that's what writing is really about, right?
It's about telling interesting, engaging stories that readers or viewers will gladly return to and read or watch again.
I know this from experience too: there are a few series I regularly return to. And I always leave feeling like it was worth it. And that's important.
THIS is what the series I mentioned above stand for.
And this is what Transformers stands for, despite the passage of time. Even though we know the fates of the characters - because the series has had so many retellings over the past 40 years - the fandom is still alive and kicking.
And the amount of fanfiction about the Transformers characters is overwhelming, overwhelmingly shocking.
Truly.
Perceiving fanfiction writing as something lesser or unworthy of recognition seems quite wrong to me. Fan content is a large part of the community. As a teenager, I focused mainly on wanting to write original stories in the future – mainly in the fantasy and sci-fi genres. Later, I was inspired by speculative fiction and other literary works, developing my own way of telling stories, creating characters, giving them personality and motivations, describing the world, constructing dialogue, descriptions, exposing elements of the world, etc. I think every aspiring author goes through these phases. I read tons of books and sought out important advice on how to write well. I talked to people who wrote professionally.
And you know what?
It was a shock to me to learn that many professional writers also wrote fanfiction. And that it was a valuable experience for them.
And it dawned on me that I'd never done this before.
I'd never considered doing this before.
Well, everyone has to have their first time.
And that was a good moment.
After the pandemic, I couldn't get myself together creatively and had a really difficult time getting myself together enough to get back to writing. Various activities pushed me forward, to a greater or lesser extent, but something was missing. I had made progress in various areas, but it wasn't satisfying.
And so, in 2025, I started thinking about what to do with this situation.
And I thought back to what I'd talked about with various writers, as well as to various source texts. And to the series that gave me comfort. And then I connected the dots.
And I started writing fanfic.
Ok, but what did it give me?
What gains and losses did I notice as a creator?
Above all:
Improved craft – on every level. Literally – it's not just about expository writing, descriptions, and dialogue, but also about what to cover in a given chapter, how much information to include, what should be a MacGuffin, should there be a red herring, or should the chapter end with a cliffhanger? The way the story is told and the pace of the story have a strong impact on the overall experience. Whether we create characters that the reader/viewer will root for or perhaps grow weary of is crucial. These are the small stones that build this metaphorical wall, and it's up to us whether everything collapses or stands.
Learning by doing – you don't learn to write by reading. You must – MUST – practice. You won't get anywhere without it.
The ability to imagine and describe characters – writing about characters whose stories stretch back 40 years is a difficult experience – especially if you have to empathize with their characters, understand their behavior, motivations, thinking, decision-making, etc.
Gaining research skills – imagination is important, but the moment you start writing nonsense, the story becomes unbelievable, and the characters' decisions and behaviors become meaningless. Checking information and using reliable (even fan-made!) websites/books/publications/films is crucial. Here, my personal thanks to @emperor-kumquat, whose videos gave me so much material for researching specific topics.
Learning routine and consistency – a story won't just jump onto paper/into a document. You need to develop a routine that won't make you hate sitting down to write after a few weeks and get tired of your own story.
Becoming part of a community – Tumblr provided that for me. I found communities and individuals here with whom I enjoy spending time and spend hours talking about what we're doing.
Learning without pressure – I treat my entire experience as a pleasure, not dictated by any imposed pace.
But above all: creating a good story.
Did I notice any discomfort or did I suffer any loss?
Well, along with my creative path, which involved spending time in front of a screen, I had to introduce a new routine into my life. It was a difficult transition, but it was beneficial for my health. Literally.
So, to sum it up: it was worth it. It was one of the best creative decisions I've made.
And now that I've started writing my original story, which you can read on Wattpad, I see how much those few months of fanfiction have given me.
But just because I'm working on another project doesn't mean the current one will be put on hold. I intend to take on another challenge and work on both stories simultaneously.
Now I know I can handle it.
And in a year, I'll be wiser again after these experiences.
My thoughts were partly inspired by conversations with @tendebill @darie-vox @domesticatingaliens and accounts such as @ariesrin @novafire-is-thinking @luna-azzurra @nondelphic @writercultureis @pantserspen @brainstreams @thelittlewritingcat @pantserspen @literaryvein-reblogs @writingwithfolklore @ijustwannawritepls @mycozywritingcorner - thank you!
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anon in my inbox said fanfic writers who wrote about dark and taboo topics were not “real writers” because of what they wrote about.
reblog if you believe anon is wrong and writers are writers, no matter what they write about. no matter how they portray these taboo topics.
reblog if you believe art can be about topics that are controversial, taboo or outright disturbing, and artists who create controversial, taboo or outright disturbing art are as valid as artists who create art of conservative values.
A writer remains a writer, regardless of the genre, subject matter, or fandom they write about. You can criticize a work, but not a person's right to be a writer✊✊✊🖋️🖋️🖋️
It feels like Europe has decided to turn itself into one giant oven.
The heat is so intense that my only goal is to lie down on the coolest patch of floor I can find and simply... exist. Not be productive. Just exist.
In the middle of all this, my little quest called "job hunting" continues. I'm sending out applications, updating my résumé, and checking my inbox far more often than I'd like. I'm really hoping that one day I'll get an email that says something other than, "Thank you for your interest in our vacancy..."
And little by little, I'm finding my way back to my book.
Yes, hello again, book. I haven't forgotten about you.
I'm writing slowly. Sometimes it's just a few paragraphs. Sometimes I simply reread what I've already written and make a few edits. No writing marathons or impressive word counts—right now, what matters most is not losing my connection with the story.
Maybe that's what creativity looks like as an adult. Not waiting for the perfect burst of inspiration, but quietly returning to your work, even when it's 35°C outside, your mind is occupied with work, and all you have the energy for is a glass of iced tea.
So, at the moment, my days look something like this:
☀️ Heat
💼 Job hunting
📖 A book that's still patiently waiting for me
And honestly... for now, that's enough.
I hope your summer is a little kinder than mine. Stay hydrated, take care of yourselves, and don't be too hard on yourself if this weather makes you want to do a little less. 💛
