# Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mr-snailman]

AHHHHHHHH I DID IT!!!!!

eight days, 16.5K words, and countless vietnam war playlists later, here we are, babey!!!! woooooo!!!!

it's been so long since I read The Outsiders for the first time (sixth grade, wow) and I finally came back to it, the way I always would, with a much better understanding of my own queerness! so!

please go read my masterpiece. I am not ashamed to beg.

[mmvalentine]

Lucky | Feysand

It was a throw away comment and Feyre knows it.

“Stop leaving glasses out!” Rhys had said, half laughing, tugging the end of her ponytail and dropping two cups and a mug into the sink.

Rhys makes her a cup of tea every evening, and it’s one of the hundred little ways that Feyre feels spoiled. She does like to keep a glass of water on the night stand, and where Tamlin hated it when she worked, Rhys has always supported her career. So they both leave early in the morning and more often than not, there’s a small collection of glassware in their bedroom.

It's completely fair that Rhys would prefer that she take them to the kitchen in the morning.

So why is it that the comment unsteadies her?

“I’m sorry,” Feyre says, and rushes to the sink. Her hands shake on the sponge. “My brain doesn’t function in the morning, I’ll remember to wash up before bed.” She goes for casual but it comes out breathless, and the Rhys looks over with a frown.

Maybe it’s because she’s been here for four weeks but doesn’t trust this yet.

Not Rhys- he’s been nothing but gorgeous, and patient, and kind. He’s so completely sure about her and in some ways that’s the most wonderful thing about him. And in some ways, it’s a lot of fucking pressure.

Rhys comes to stand behind her and puts his nose on her neck. Closes his fingers over her wrists until she stops moving, and wraps his arms around her waist.

“That’s fair,” he murmurs. “It’s not a real gripe.”

Some nights, Feyre lies awake in the dark, long after Rhys has fallen asleep, and tries to deep-breathe the fear away. It never works. But how can she tell him? It’s not his fault. The problems are all in her head.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre whispers, and she doesn’t mean the glasses.

She knows it’s not realistic, but it’s hard to fight the urge to be as perfect as possible, because she’s never had it so good, and the fact that it could break any day now is more than enough to keep her guts in permanent knots. She’s been holding her lips closed over the anxiety. She’s been trying so hard. She’s brittle enough that the shallow criticism lands like failure in her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Rhys murmurs. He picks up a tea towel and dries her hands, dragging her waist away from the sink. “You’re safe, honey.”

Sometimes Feyre forgets that Rhys does know. Knows better than most- after all, he’s known Tamlin longer than she has. Still, she’s both embarrassed and relieved that he can read her so easily.

“I didn’t mean it,” Rhys says. “Please leave cups in the room. It means you live here and that is so wonderful, to me.”

Rhys sits down on the couch and pulls her into his lap. Feyre hides her face in his chest and wishes, for the thousandth time, that she was better than this. That her fear of Tamlin’s anger would not be an unwelcome third in her and Rhys’s house.

“Hey,” Rhys whispers. “Don’t be sad, beautiful girl.” He slides his hand under her hair, and touches their foreheads together. “You’re okay.”

And then he kisses her, and it helps.

Feyre takes a deep breath, and kisses him back. It’s difficult to be here, it’s difficult to let herself be loved like this. But touching Rhys is always easy, and soon her fingers find his collar and his jaw and the raven curls at the back of his head. And she can feel him smile against her mouth when she tugs him closer.

“Does this help?” he asks. Feyre just nods, and kisses him again. The rough of Rhys’s palms walk up her back, under her shirt, until his hand rests behind her neck.

“I have less anxiety when you’re touching me,” she admits, and Rhys chuckles softly.

“That’s good,” he says, and in the next moment he’s lifted her up out of his lap and laid her back down on the couch cushions. He settles easily between her legs, and every time it’s a thrill to Feyre that he’s hard because of her. His mouth wanders from her lips to her throat to her collar bone and back up.

“I’m not mad,” he says, because that’s always what she’s afraid of and he knows it. “Of course I’m not, you’re such a good girl, how could I be?”

And like clockwork those two words make her brain slide, and her eyes close as his tongue travels the indent that runs from under her sternum to her navel.

“Please,” Feyre breathes. Rhys just looks up at her from under the ink of his eyelashes, and continues kissing down her stomach. “Please,” she says again, and this time he leans up and kisses her heavy on the mouth.

“That’s such a pretty word on your tongue,” he tells her. Feyre doesn’t respond, she’s concentrating on Rhys’s belt buckle and the button beneath it. He glances down, and then gives her a pitying look. “My poor darling,” he says. His teeth graze the corner of her jaw. “You need this, huh?”

Feyre wins her battle with Rhys’s zipper and slides her hand down the front of his jeans. She’s rewarded with a shudder that rips across his shoulders, and it only makes her melt further into the couch.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You need it?” Rhys asks again. He grinds against her palm and she loves how even when he’s in control, he comes undone a little under her hands. “You need me to fuck it better?”

“Yes,” Feyre says again, and now she shoves his jeans the rest of the way off him, and Rhys pulls his shirt over his head in one motion. He gets his mouth on her throat and his hand on her breast, and Feyre’s limbs reach up and around him to pull him closer than skin. He drags her tights off, agonizingly slow, and then her shirt, and every inch that’s exposed is immediately pressed up against the warmth of him, searing but sweet.

“Tell me how much,” Rhys says, and it’s only the cotton of her underwear that’s between them when he rolls his hips against hers. Feyre closes her eyes, speaks against the slant of his cheek.

“Too much,” she says. He hooks her leg over his shoulder and Feyre’s back arches up off the couch. “And too often. You have no idea…” she trails off, trying to press up against Rhys as he moves all too slowly.

“Too often?” he asks. His fingers drift down, toying with the waistband of her panties.

“All the time,” she gasps. Her hands scrabble on his shoulders as he drags the elastic down over her hips.

“I wish you’d tell me.” He starts to kiss down over her breasts, but Feyre pulls him back up to her lips and slide her tongue against his. He groans softly in her mouth, and she pulls her knees up the sides of his ribcage, digs her heels into base of his back. “I wish you’d lean over, while we’re watching TV, and tell me how bad…” here Rhys pauses to draw a shaky breath because Feyre is wet against his naked cock, “…you need to be fucked.”

“I’m telling you now,” Feyre argues, and lifts her hips to prove her point.

“You are,” Rhys concedes, and presses up against heat of her. “And you’re doing such a good job.” He pushes inside her, and Feyre’s head drops back against the cushions. She breathes in, and it feels like a long time she’s been holding her breath. “Look at me,” Rhys says, and when she opens her eyes he’s watching her face change when he moves out and back in. His hips punch forward when she meets the violet of his gaze, and Feyre gasps.

“That’s it baby,” Rhys murmurs. “Keep looking at me.”

It’s easier said than done- Rhys’s eyes scald her and every time their hips touch her mind slides.

“Come on honey, you can do it.”

Feyre’s eyes snap open, but somehow there’s five hundred years in that stare and it’s a lot to bear. She tips her head back and throws her arm over her face.

And then Rhys’s fingers close over her throat, and it’s strange that this makes her feel safer, that it always makes her feel safer when he’s holding her down because every other moment she’s on the verge of floating away altogether.

“Is that better?” Rhys asks. His eyes darken above her, and she loves knowing that he likes her like this.

“Yes,” she breathes, and his grip tightens.

“You’re so good,” he tells her. “My good girl.”

Feyre can’t help it, she moans at the praise and the sound pushes Rhys’s pace up. This time when her eyes squeeze shut he lets her. Sits up on his heels to get a deeper angle and puts his teeth on her ankle.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?” Rhys asks. He slides his thumb against her tongue for a second, before touching it to her clit. She can’t answer, because he keeps his rhythm while he talks to her and it’s knocking the breath from her lungs. “You look so pretty like this, baby.” His eyes rake over her, hooded and muddled, and there’s nothing quite so intoxicating as watching him look at her.

Rhys leans his forearms on either side of her face and leans down over her. Feyre’s hands come up automatically to follow the muscles of his back. She thinks he’ll kiss her, but when she tilts her face up he just flicks his eyes down to her mouth and then back up. He slows down now, moves in long, languid strokes that make Feyre feel like she’s drowning.

“You know,” he murmurs. “You can always tell me if you need this.” This time he does kiss her, and the next time he speaks it’s right next to her ear. “I’d drop everything and bend you over. Empty your head just like you like.”

Feyre‘s nails dig into Rhys’s shoulders and he shifts again, moving fast now and breathing shallow.

“Come on baby,” he says, and she can hear the strain in his voice. “Feel good for me.”

She doesn’t need to be told, he always feels good and today is no exception. Not when the snap of his hips makes a steady undertow that she is fast being dragged in by, not when the smell of him this close is enough to drive her to distraction, not when she can feel him start to chase his own release and knows that she’s the one making him feel like this.

“Give it to me,” she whispers. “I want it, want to feel you…”

But Rhys just laughs and shakes his head. “You first, angel.”

Feyre is tempted to see if she can make him lose control, but the way he moves is too good to ignore. And, she’s never one to pass up an opportunity to show him how good she can be.

“Right now,” Rhys says, under her ear, and honestly it’s so easy with him. Feyre breaks in between one breath and the next, and it’s a thing that wrings her out over and over in the cage of Rhys’s arms. It’s somewhere in the aftershocks that Rhys comes too, and she hasn’t told him but this is the part to Feyre that feels so intense she never quite feels like she’ll survive it. But of course she does, and minutes later the world filters back in and the couch cushions are scratchy against her back and there is sweat in Rhys’s hair and her heart is still beating painfully hard in her chest.

And Feyre feels calm, in this moment, which is rare but increasing. She presses her nose against Rhys’s forehead, where he’s half dozing on her chest, and tries to remember the feeling of it, because there will be a next time that she feels anxious and afraid, but if she’s very lucky, and she has been very lucky, there will also be a next time for this part right here, and that makes everything worthwhile.  

****

Well hello there angels! It's been a hot minute, I'm rusty don't laugh at me!

But seriously a lot of things have happened and I still kinda feel a little lost (read: completely out of control)- and not all in bad ways. I've been meaning to post some one shot type things and to talk about my book but man it is HARD. So for now here is a little angsty thing that may or may not be just be T-Swifting it about my current sitch and my book links: UK and international US eBook Australia

And ummm this feels like I am too irrelevant to pull this anymore and I'm sorry if you do not want to be on this but,

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina

[caesarflickermans]

Birds of the Capitol | chapter one

The Capitol rebels were awaiting a spark to light a fire across Panem. No one expected a tribute from District 12 to inspire them once more. Their anticipated plan was finally coming into motion, but at what cost? And how had they found each other? Plutarch Heavensbee came from an old Capitol lineage. But something caused him to abandon his privilege for a better vision of Panem. Caesar Flickerman was the mere host of the Hunger Games. But his proximity to the tributes was a worthwhile tool for more forces than the regime. Virgilia Snow once married the President. But her silent existence by his side had long been corrupted.

[overly-verbose]

Does the Kahoot theme apply at all to the upcoming chapter?

To some of it, certainly!

Some of it not, especially after A Point - but yeah lol, pretty accurate besides that 😂

Everyone's doing some THINKIN' there

(maybe some overthinkin' in places, heh - but honestly one really can't blame them 😂)

Poor SIkuna, man - Sweet Dreams were not made of this 😔😔😔(😂)

[crossbackpoke-check]

inspired by @colap1nto <3 and posting here to hold myself accountable: writevember! attempting to write something every day no matter how much and what it is

i am however inventing stipulations for myself so i cannot weasel my way out of it, which includes a valid definition of “write”:

actively put words into a document in the form of a proper fic!!! too many wip not enough hands!!

poems (actually laughed at me coming up with this but maybe i will go back to my roots)

research/meta/primers

tag stories are permissible IF i actually compile and edit them into a readable document that day

editing to post to ao3 (the optimism) is also valid. it takes me so long

i do have concrete arbitrary deadlines for one and a half fics that i would LOVE to finish and post in november (dewey^2 and [redacted :)]) so i’m hoping this helps!! also, this is secretly just a sticker chart where i get to put down emojis for each fic i worked on and check off boxes but a win is a win

day 1: 🪻🐈‍⬛

day 2: 😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜)

day 3: 🫃2️⃣

day 4: 🍎

day 5: 🫃2️⃣

day 6: 📑, 💌

[thinlinez]

Snip!

I was tagged by @littleohs @likelarryfics a while ago to post a snip and here I am with one. I will be releasing this fic next Thursday so it's good timing!

It's a standalone short fic that is part of my On A Whim Collection :))

“You tuned his violin wrong.” After the customer had left the store with his new violin secured in a bright yellow case, Harry rounded on Louis. The alpha merely hummed, plopping down on the couch next to a row of cellos. “Did I? Got proof?” “I saw you turning the pegs further than they should!” The omega folded his arms, glowering at the alpha as he splayed his thighs, man spreading before he pulled a magazine into his lap. “Nothing wrong with setting the pitch a tad lower.” The alpha said dismissively as he started to flip through Rolling Stone. Harry suddenly wished he had downed another shot of expresso this morning. He needed more energy if he wanted to argue with Louis. “You want him to come back, don’t you? That’s why you tuned his violin wrong on purpose.” The alpha seemed to be blatantly ignoring him as he snickered down at the magazine.

Bit of jest and angst for y'all 😊 I tag @marchessa @brightgolden @greenblueish @chai-hat-tea (yes Cha this one is your gift), @whenyoucallmelover @neondiamond @imogenleefic @unreadablehandle @allwaswell16 @guccistrawberries would love to see snips from everyone :))

[scrunklyshinyguy]

when i make my comeback to fanfic writing, it will be with a pairing none of you will expect

[alaskashigh]

i woke up in the middle of the night last night after taking sleep medication and in like 20 minutes wrote a 1k fic of New Jersey and New York hate fucking. it’s like, hella bad of course since i was out of my mind then, so it needs to be edited and shit, but i think it’s funny that that is the first thing my brain did after watching Ben’s latest video. for months now i’ve been putting together a little something about ny/ca/nj, so that may or may not be one of the chapters. (if i get around to yknow, actually starting the fic since i’m still connecting things for the plot. we’ll see.)

yeah but i just thought that was funny. besides the sleepy ny/nj/ca small thing i wrote like two days ago, that is the only thing i’ve had the motivation to write. everybody say it with me now, fuck burnout!

[zerogutzz]

BACKFLIPS 2 MILLION TIMES

[typewriteringalaxy]

First attempt at digital art! (well, first finished piece that I don't hate lol)

Powder from scene 4, chapter 3 of my fic everything's better with a friend + an explanation of her outfit! The other day I found a scrap paper with a doodle of her dated as 4/1/2022, time fucking flies.

[rt-lots]

hiii um i wrote a hypnospace outlaw thingy... ive never shared my writing before so i am VERY nervous and i dont know how common this'll be 4 me but ya 👍

au where zane n corey paul r in the same school and also friends... in a mildly gay way

just fyi this isnt my usual writing style. unless you like it then actually i write like this exclusively and also all the time

word count is 1275 hope u likey 🙏

Zane has never heard of a tuba cover before. To him, it sounds pretty freaking stupid.

The tuba is not an instrument Zane has ever had any conscious thought about. To him, it's solely a background instrument for nerds in band to play at school assemblies. It's not really music- not like sick-as-crap electric guitar, bass or drums. It's the instrument you take out for marches, raising school spirit, and looking really lame.

Corey Paul, of course, feels differently.

The tuba is a beautiful instrument, both in sound and aesthetic. He likes how the gold tube wraps in on and around itself, almost making art with its function. It looks purposeful, because it is, and that air of maturity makes for good art. Corey also likes the sound of the tuba. He'd never really been an outgoing kid. His voice cracks under pressure or when he laughs too much and he's never had anything important enough to say with confidence. The tuba, though, is loud by default. Its sound is rich and deep, filling the room and demanding your attention. Corey likes that; he likes that the tuba knows what it wants, and both looks and sounds good doing it.

Zane's never really had much of a reason to give a crap what Corey thinks, though. They're friends, sure, but they both know where their interests lie. Corey had once tried bridging the gap by asking Zane if he could tuba him a song for his game, but quickly shut that down after being laughed at in his face.

Point is- it was fine. Corey could be a class clown comedian with an ugly instrument and Zane could be the X-Slayer game developer with all around superior tastes. Neither needed to change the other's mind.

…Which is why Corey's next move confuses him.

Corey stops Zane after his last class, doing that thing he does where he bounces on his heels in excitement. Corey and Zane have a schedule of hanging out every Thursday after school, and it's Monday, so he's not expecting him to come barreling into Mrs. Patterson's classroom, wheezing with excess energy, like he was rushing to see him. He doesn't expect Corey, someone usually so uptight about his personal space, to eagerly grab his shoulder, either, but he does that too, and it isn't terrible.

Through the breaths of an unathletic teenager who just ran down two flights of stairs and through a hall, Corey explains he has a surprise for Zane, something he's been working really hard on, and he just finished it so he has to come see it right now. Although confused, Zane doesn't have any gripes with this, and he tells Corey to just wait a minute for him to pack his things and he'll come see. Corey's hand retreats from his shoulder like a wounded animal, but he's still smiling as he says OK.

Zane thinks it's gross Corey's taking him to the Band Hall, otherwise known in his mind as Nerdface Central, but he reminds himself that Corey apparently worked hard on something for him, so he should hold back on any unsavory comments- just for a little bit.

Corey leads him to the center of the hall, up an elevated stage platform and to a white soor on the left. Zane feels some apprehension going in, like Corey's just asked him to walk straight into a teacher's lounge, but Corey opens the door and holds it for him, and the gesture is so homey that it'd feel wrong to do anything other than walk straight in.

The room past the door is significantly smaller, and seems to be some kind of closet. The room is entirely cleared out save for a small speaker, Corey's tuba case on the ground, and two chairs around it. Given that the chair furthest from him is right behind the tuba case, Zane assumes the other chair is for him, and slides his backpack off his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground before he sits in his seat.

The door shuts behind him and Corey hurries over to the speaker. Zane asks him what's the surprise but Corey unsurprisingly tells him to be patient. There's a small MP3 player attached to the speaker, and Corey fiddles with it some before pressing play. No sound comes out, but Corey doesn't seem alarmed, instead simply reaching down to his case and setting up his Tuba. He gently hauls it up into his lap and adjusts it accordingly, ready to be played. Zane feels a weird sort of antsy about it, and asks Corey again why exactly he's here. This time, Corey just smiles, and answers: "I found a Nothing Left For Me instrumental online."

Suddenly, the music starts.

Zane would recognize that intro anywhere, even when scraped to just its fundamentals. The realization is sudden, but interrupted by the deep tone of Corey's tuba. Zane almost can't hear the music over the tuba at first, but he's quick to notice how the instrumental and Corey's playing interact with eachother; they're meant to be the same song

Corey is playing him a tuba cover of Nothing Left For Me.

That sentence is about the lamest string of words Zane can possibly think of, but it really doesn't feel that way in the moment. Zane knows about Seepage- everything about Seepage- and he knows they don't post tutorials on how to play tuba covers of their music. For Corey to be playing a cover of Zane's favorite song, for him, on the freaking tuba, he'd have to have come up with the composition himself.

Usually, when receiving a gift, Zane doesn't feel much beyond a vague sense of hype and excitement. But imagining Corey listening to Nothing Left For Me for hours, reimagining it in a medium he could replicate, just to play it for Zane? He feels… flattered, which isn't a feeling he's used to.

A part of the back of Zane's mind is still arguing whether or not he likes this gift. Throwing Seepage's electric metal awesomeness into the ringer only for it to come out the end of a tuba should be a disgrace to Seepage itself, it says, and Zane agrees… just only in theory. Because maybe Corey didn't just listen to the song, maybe he had an understanding of what made it so awesome to Zane in the first place. And maybe that's why it manages to sound pretty good- even with a tuba.

Zane honestly didn't realize Corey liked him that much. As much as his cool punk persona was totally based in reality, he'd never had all that many friends. Not close ones, anyway. He hung out with dudes, they hung out with him, and that was about the end of it. None of his other buddies would make him a gift, nevertheless perform it for him. Does this mean something, then? Had Corey put nearly as much thought into this as Zane is thinking he did? The confrontation of this sudden fondness is confusing, and Zane doesn't know much of what to do with it.

Conveniently, of course, the music stops then, leaving a small bit of silence where Zane isn't totally snapped out of whatever train of thought Corey's sent him on. Corey either doesn't notice or doesn't care, and simply moves the interaction along with a "So? Did you like it?"

Zane looks Corey in the eye, past his square wire frame glasses and dorky grin. He smiles, all teeth, and a quick laugh escapes him, entirely gratitude and nerves as his ears burn a little behind him.

"Dude, you're really good!"

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Ghosts are real and your no-longer-dead older brother has identity issues over them by itsrecycledcactus is SUCH a neat fic I am telling you-

Like!!! It’s a modern AU, but it actually incorporates elements like Ghostbur, Wilbur’s revival, Phil’s wings, Ranboo’s oreo-ness, and a lot more—which modern AU’s never do, because… those things don’t fit into modern AU’s very well lol

BUT THIS IS DARN COOL!!! IT WORKS SO WELL!!! AAAAAH MODERN AU GHOSTBUR MY BELOVED!!!

Author also has a very good grasp on Wilbur, specifically Wilbur after revival. It’s just… aaaaah it’s immaculate.

Now I will share some of my favorite bits from the fic :)

In short, it’s a wonderful story and I’d highly suggest reading it!!

Just a heads up though: it’s a bit disjointed, and the author mentioned that it doesn’t really have… a plot? It’s more of a bunch of scenes from the same AU all mashed into one fic, so it flows a bit odd.

That being said, it’s really really good and the AU is incredibly interesting :D

[arche0ps-moved]

DON'T laugh at me I've never used ao3 + I don't write publicly. Also if there's any spelling mistakes oopsie

[seancamerons]

i tenativtly willl post a chapter or two for where are you now? after applying a few little things to it again, editing just a tad for like a fine tooth comb for little impurities such as gramatical/spelling issues, double checkin' little things for tonight. 🥰😊

[dreamingofthedteam]

only sapnaplive can fix me now

[nounpolycule]

Not to like. Get sappy about a dumb little rarepair but like. I’m gonna take a minute to be sappy about a dumb little rarepair.

In March I responded to an ask from a friend and included the tags:

[image description: Tumblr tags that read “#bonus reason: shipping riverrose makes you extra cool and I am in desperate need of more content #[In The Arms of The Angels playing] this ship averages about 2 fanfics posted to Ao3 per year but with your contribution we can change that”. End image description.]

And like. Yeah. If you look at June 2011 through the end of 2021, there were 23 works posted in the River Song/Rose Tyler tag on Ao3, with one of those being a fanart collection that hadn’t included (or been tagged as, to my knowledge) River/Rose until a few months ago. So yeah. An average of two-ish works per year.

It’s the end of December and there’s 47 works in the tag. That’s over double. And I am personally trying to push to post a few more things to get it to 50 because that sounds neat. It’s still a rarepair by most definitions (especially given how big the fandom is - Ao3 has over 11k works tagged as Ten/Rose), but that’s still like. Hello. One of these characters hasn’t been on the show in over 7 years and the other hasn’t been on the show in nearly 13 years (over 14 if you go by episodes where she's on screen for more than 2 minutes) - her actress came back as a different character and that was still 9 years ago. Wild increase.

The “The Doctor/River Song/Rose Tyler” also went from 10 works to 25. 60% of works in that tag were posted this year. And everyone who posted in that tag was soooooo right for it.

I just. Idk I have such intense and specific brainrot about this ship and I’m still struggling to articulate exactly why and here we are. This tag has existed for over a decade and half of it is from this year and nearly a fifth is from me and just yeah.

Anyway shout out to everyone who wrote riverrose. And to everyone who commented and kudosed and read (even without any comments or kudos) riverrose this year. A great big “mwah” to you all.

So. Do I maintain the goal of 100 fics in the River Song/Rose Tyler tag before May 2023? Yes. Do I think that’s in anyway realistic? Who gives a fuck. It’s gonna be fun to try to get there, if nothing else.

Also like on a more personal note I’ve posted like maybe 5 or 6 fics before this year? Like ever? Maybe 7? And that’s including middle school and that joke fic I posted like two years ago? And I posted 22 works this year? Over 22k words? And I wrote even more than that? Go me.

Tl;dr: I’m impressed with the amount of riverrose posted in 2022 and I intend to beat that number in 2023.