#2022 year in fic

[emo-batboy]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 57 (Masterlist)

Part 58 Coming At Some Point

@bruciemilf

Hey so uhh it's been a while. (If you look closely, squint a little, I literally made some of these photos over a year ago. I feel SICK. This AU is ancient.)

Here’s the SNL episode once again for the uninitiated.

Okay so hear me out. I know a lot of people were excited to see Caleb discover the batcave yada yada but the #1 rule is No One Figures It Out. Otherwise, the entire point of the series is obsolete and it ends. (Tim does find out ofc but not Caleb. None of the main cast. No OCs.) So he gets let go from babysitting Dick and Jason, mostly because Bruce and Alfred realize their mistake, and he never sees the batcave. RIP. ANYWAYS hope y’all forgive me. Didn’t realize I was implying that until everyone started screaming about it in the comments. Caleb is still blissfully unaware :)

No idea when the next part is coming out. I am currently in an airport banging this out before I convince myself not to post it AGAIN but you guys deserve better. It’s the holidays. So Merry December 19th-ish. Peace :)

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[fandomsandfears]

sending love to all fic writers out there <3 I'm deleted bookmarks on ao3 for works that have been deleted and it is HAUNTING. A total of 37 of my bookmarks are deleted works. many were in the 1-5 chapter range, most were under 10. I didn't note that they were finished so they were probably stories just getting off the ground, that didn't get to see their peak no matter how great of a premise they had. I only know this because I use my bookmarks like I'm meant to subscribe to works. I record what chapter I left off reading on in the notes (on priv).

There was one that i had noted left on a hiatus. There was another that I noted was being rewritten, I hope its thriving out there anew <3

There's one that was deleted ongoing with 29 chapters.

There's one deleted that was finished at a whopping 41 chapters.

Anyways, this is my little grieving love letter to authors out there <3 you're writing is so important and I understand any reason you may have for deleting it but your work wasn't in vain and it was loved.

[commanderbuffy]

Done with the Compass - a tanthamore fic

Premiering December 12th, 2024

Gilded Age heiress Katherine Tanthalos is out for her third Season on the New York City marriage market; her grandmother and guardian Bavmorda determined to make her a match before summer's end. Jade Claymore is a high-flying acrobat, travelling with Willow’s Circus of Wonders. While her body soars through the big top, her heart yearns for something to keep her on solid ground. When a chance encounter brings them both together, the course of their lives forever changes direction.

by @swashbucklery (pirateygoodness) and @commanderbuffy (rochke11)

[drarryspecificrecs]

Most popular fics of 2022

✔ subjectively sorted by Hits || alphabetically listed || as of 2023.07 (4112 works) ✔ 2022 in review : (daily) complete fics  +  (monthly) longest fics  +  list of fests ✔ most popular fics of other years

—

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[formalmess]

i rly want halloween to come sooner so ive been thinking abt spooky stuff these last few days and i thought: i might as well post my vampire and vampire hunter au... lord luigi (turned by antasma) and vampire “hunter” peasley

[httpiastri]

biggest congrats on your birthday ollie, i have a feeling this year will be good to you <33

[dizzywhre]

A new beginning

[vigilskeep]

What got you into dragon age?

this is plainly embarrassing but i was craving some fresh hurt/comfort fic just to feel something and i didn’t care where it came from, so i remembered the cool art i kept seeing for dragon age and cracked open ao3 and ended up with some kind of condition. a couple months of wiki-haunting, tag-lurking derangement later, and after buying world of thedas vol 1, in my late night fuelled desperate measures i discovered to my astonishment that dao would actually run on the laptop i’d bought for uni. i had never played a video game before, except failing to use my brother’s xbox to successfully make a character walk in a straight line, so this was genuinely quite an alarming development to me. but i endeavoured to succeed nonetheless (by which i mean running around on easy difficulty with my corpsesque prototype surana) and the rest is history

i do not recommend this. none of the above behaviours. cannot express that enough.

[tsukk1]

Do you still fw tddk??

just busted out laughing when i got this .. do i still fw tddk ?? tddk who changed the trajectory of my life ???? r u crazy !!!!!!! they're my number 1 forever...

[dramioneasks]

Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2022:

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare - E, 36 chapters, Words: 199,644 - Hermione straddles the Muggle and Magical worlds as a medical researcher and Healer about to make a big discovery. Draco is an Auror assigned to protect her from forces unknown – to both of their displeasure.Features hyper-competent, fiery Hermione and lazy, yet dangerous, Draco. Slow burn.

Measure Of A Man by inadaze22 - E, 42 chapters, Words: 590,655 - To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man.

Season Pass (To This Ass) by mightbewriting - E, 6 chapters, Words: 16,390 - “What do you mean you didn’t get me a ticket?”Ron’s hand flew to the back of his neck, massaging a red splotch just above his collar, flushing out his freckles. “I mean, I—well, it’s not like you enjoy Quidditch all that much.”“I went to every match you or Harry played in at school.”“Quidditch is my hobby, not yours.” [In which Hermione dumps a Quidditch fan and dates a Quidditch player instead. Spite is a beautiful motivator.]

A Season For Setting Fires by mightbewriting - E, 31 chapters, Words: 95,640 - Torture smells like spring.Like daffodils and tulips and snowdrops. Like the bouquets brought inside from the manor gardens to lend their life to cold stone walls that house criminals. Easter mixed with madness makes sense in this twisted landscape; Draco’s only chance at survival is to endure it. He knows this. But that doesn’t quell the twitching in his calves, the flexing in his fingers.Granger lifts her hand off the floor and Draco nearly loses his lunch, stomach churning as he watches her extend her arm, reaching through the translucent cord, reaching towards him. He tries to blink it away, blink blink blink, but both she and the cord are stubborn, persistent things. [In which a soulmate bond appears while Hermione is tortured at Malfoy Manor. Canon divergent from that moment onward.]

Anthology by senlinyu - M - Assorted prompted ficlets of varying lengths. All Dramione. Ratings and any relevant warnings are listed in the chapter summary of the particular ficlet.

Meet Your Match by morriganmercy - E, 26 chapters, Words: 121,611 - After the war, Draco Malfoy seeks refuge from infamy in the Muggle world. A friendly Muggle couple takes him under their wing, but there’s a problem: they are intent on setting him up with their best friend, Hermione Granger. Or, in which the Muggle friends Hermione Granger undoubtedly would have had will not take no for an answer.

Ten out of Ten by morriganmercy - E, 16 chapters, Words: 61,559 - "On a scale of one to ten, how comfortable would you say you are with me physically?" she asked. "Zero." Hermione's lips pursed in annoyance because she really should have seen that coming. How charming that the extent of his arseholery could still surprise her.In which Hermione is determined to find a loophole to free her from a forced marriage with Draco Malfoy. But with only two weeks until they are legally required to consummate, it would be irresponsible not to prepare for every contingency.

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM by LovesBitca8, nikitajobson - E, 2 chapters, Words: 8,574 - And in the heartbeat that he didn't return the kiss, Hermione saw the rest of her school year flash before her eyes. The embarrassment, the teasing. Her chest constricted at this terribly awful thing she just did — kissing Draco Malfoy.*Fic / Art Collab with NikitaJobson. Two-Shot

Happy Pills by malf0y101 - E, 41 chapters, Words: 285,587 - A few years after the Second Wizarding War, a group of Slytherins is drafted into a rehabilitation program created by the Ministry of Magic and one of its determined interns--one of their former classmates and the familiar Golden Girl of Gryffindor. As their marks continue to cause physical and mental pain, the Slytherins undergo intense treatment in order to relearn everything about the Wizarding World and tackle the trauma of their Dark Marks.And although they are apprehensive, they are also desperate for someone to simply care about them.

for the best by HawthorneWhisperer - M, 19 chapters, Words: 49,105 - She wore that Granger expression, the one that said she was going to bully someone into something. Draco had a bad feeling it was about to be him. “I’ll marry you,” Hermione said. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not doing it for free. I marry you, then after a year we divorce and you agree to fund S.P.E.A.M.B. In perpetuity.” “Out of the question.” “It’s just one year. We would both get what we want.” “Contracted marriages require consummation,” he said, adding a leer for good measure. Granger had gotten more attractive since their Hogwarts days, he would give her that much. Her jumper was atrocious, though. He had half a mind to burn it. To his everlasting shock, she merely shrugged. “It’s just sex. I’ve had it before and I presume you have too.” She was utterly serious. Draco stared at her and contemplated being married to her. She was irritating and he might make her promise to never wear that jumper again, but it was better than the alternative. Draco would do just about anything to avoid being poor. “You’re serious?” “Completely.” “Then congratulations, Granger. You've got yourself a husband.”

[faebriel]

i wrote a heartbreak high fic lmao!! it's called daisy's drop (do you think you feel the same?) and wouldn't you know it it's a cash/darren fic

featuring:

cash and darren communication power hour

lots and lots and lots of unpacking consent issues that come with miscommunication in an allo/sex averse ace relationship (clue: it's communication. there is so much communication happening here)

carpool karaoke

darren discovers emotional vulnerability TM

cash discovers that being in love doesn't have to be miserable if you can love yourself enough to communicate your boundaries TM

darude the duck

i get to use aussie slang in a fic for once

[helloliriels]

Thrilled to finally share the finished cover art for @raina-at's brilliant sci-fi fic:

⚙️ SPARE PARTS 🔧🔩

Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all ... John hasn't seen him since. (Post-TRF, Sci-Fi, on Titan)

If you haven't read it yet, or need a post-TRF fix, check it out!!! I absolutely adore everything Raina_at writes! It was an honor to cover this one (and again, apologies for the insane delay on posting this one!!! Think I finally got it!!!) What a long, strange year it's been! xoxo - Liri

Art of winners choice for submitting the top entry in the '2022 Year of the Crack Fic' writing challenge! ❤️‍🔥 (had a blast reading all 3!)

@johnlocky @chinike @rhasima @fluffbyday-smutbynight @totallysilvergirl @chriscalledmesweetie @sarahthecoat @inevitably-johnlocked @pocketwatchofmycroft @safedistancefrombeingsmart @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @myriath @mutedsilence @meetinginsamarra @bluebellofbakerstreet @loki-lock @the-nerdy-autist @sgam76 @janetm74 @a-victorian-girl @gregorovitchworld @whatnext2020 @missdeliadili @escaroles @lisbeth-kk @gaylilsherlock @impalaparkedat221b @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain @deelaundry @13monkton @sabsi221b @arwamachine @jamesphillimoresumbrella @dontfuckmylifewtf @kettykika78 @khorazir @youcouldcallmegus @7-percent @arabbitjohn @iwlyanmw @masterofhounds @john-smiths-jawline @kittenmadnessandtea @peanitbear @peageetibbs @solarmama @anyway-kindness @glows-n-the-dark

[invinciblerodent]

Another case of the "I'm not done"-s seems to have possessed me, because the immortality and rebirth of elven souls and this fucking elf/vampire!elf romance I'm doing right now is kind of ruining me.

Because, well... look.

This shit is ripe for angst.

For so long, there is no real reason to think much about the passage of time. Death, it's but an abstract far in the future- a bridge to be burned when they get to it. It's easy enough to practically forget that mortality is a thing to account for: with both the endless stretch of centuries they have and her body as unchanging as his, that thought can be kicked further down the road for what feels like it might even be an indefinite amount of time. Their lives just inch along, endlessly, and twine together like the roots of an ancient forest, building around- and with one another. Friends come and go, live and die, and yet, every moment, every day, is permeated by the other's presence: even in their "sleep", they're reliving shared memories (there is scarcely another kind, by now) while holding one another.

Talking about which of their adventures they chose to remember in Reverie is one of his favorite parts of the night.

Until one evening, as she opens her eyes to greet both him and the nightfall with a smile, he catches... just the faintest opaque, silvery glint in her pupils. It's barely a flash, gone in an instant, as if it was merely a trick of the light, but the thought, like a pesky insect, begins buzzing in his head. It will not let him rest.

With this new thought gnawing at him, he can't not see that there's almost a... strange distance, to her now. Even with this hazy half-awareness, it would have slipped his note if he hadn't come to know her quite so intimately over the past half millenium, if he hadn't memorized her cadence and heard her every loving thought as if it was his own. But he's attuned to her: even as her fingers glide through his hair, and her lips speak her words of love like they have so many times before, the same words, they... ring slightly hollow, robotic, automatic in their sweetness now, and once the dreaded Sun begins inching over the horizon and he's forced back into the shadows once more, her kiss goodbye lingers just one second longer, she holds him just a touch tighter before she'd be out the door.

All day, he circles the darkened room like a trapped animal, mind flush with thoughts of robotic words, silver glints, and a creeping dread. Surely, it cannot be what he thinks. It cannot. It wasn't a half-moon, it's not the Transendence, it was merely a... a reflection off something, moonlight bouncing off a silvered picture frame, or the twinkle of a magelight lighting the street glancing through an improperly closed curtain, a... a stomach bug that she's toughing out and is too stubborn to say anything about, something. It cannot be what he thinks, fears that it was.

The day drags on, the hour he'd expect her back comes and then passes, and when she returns, it is closer to sundown than it normally would be. Usually when she must leave for the day, she tries to time her return so that they can rest together, and then emerge from their chambers at the exact moment of nightfall to maximize the amount of time shared, the time he can walk free with her on his arm, but today, she returns with darkness on her heels, and bittersweet sorrow marring her face.

"Arael, we need to talk," she says, and the beloved endearment in their shared native tongue, 'heart' and 'hearth', 'center' and 'lover' in a single word, turns to acid in his ears. Instantly, he knows what she's going to say.

"How long have you known." It's not a question in tone, only phrasing- the hiss of his own voice feels alien in his throat. "When were you planning on telling me."

"It's been... a few days."

A few days. A few days, she's been...! He can't bring himself to think the word 'dying'. He can't. His knees give way under the weight of her words, and he crumples onto the nearest chair.

"You.... should have told me right away." He wants so dearly to be furious. His hands itch to rip, to tear, to destroy everything, his tongue aches to spit bile that'd make her feel exactly the pain he does in this moment... Gods, it was so easy to grow complacent and start believing in forever, to stop counting the hours, the days, the years, and still, it's her godsdamned near-forgotten mortality that's come knocking-- now, that his life is inexorably intertwined with hers, that she's been the other half of his soul for long enough to see the birth and death of friends and enemies, the rise and fall of monarchs, nations. And yet, her life's thread is soon to be clipped, while his must stretch on, infinite.

He buries his face in itching palms and swallows the bile to make room for the flood of grief. "I could have prevented this," he whispers now, "We could have had the chance, at forever... forever, if I could have turned you, if only I had-- if I--"

A soft hand on his shoulder stills him now. "Arael," she repeats, and traces a line to his chin, gently urging him to look at her. "I could not have dreamed of a more blissful, blessed life, than the one I shared with you. But--"

"Don't say it!" She winces as he snaps, and his hand is now grasping her wrist, insistent, hard enough to almost hurt, as he presses her palm against his cheek. "Don't, it's not over yet-- she may be calling, but you don't have to answer, you can stay--"

"I can't, my love."

"But--!"

"Arvandor is calling my soul, Astarion. The Gate is open. Sehanine has shown me; I must answer."

"But not yet, there's still time, you--!"

Her thumb gliding feather-light over his lips cuts off his desperate shout. "I have time enough to get my affairs in order," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I can delay it no longer than maybe another tenday. For now, please... simply be with me."

~

That night, they make love. Tender, aching love that leaves them both tearful in one another's arms- his whole body shakes, racked with heavy sobs as he buries his face in her chest, as if that way he could melt into her, to keep her here, keep her safe, keep her for himself, or... or follow her, anchor his soul to hers, stow away and smuggle himself into the afterlife that rejected him, so they can be reborn together, find one another again, have another six hundred years, and another, and another...

Hopeless. A fool's desperation, no more. There's no tricking the Seldarine: he had rejected rebirth in favor of this wretched, eternal half-life the moment Cazador's fangs sunk into his flesh so long ago now, and his soul was rent from Arvandor. There's no changing that now, no fighting it, and no putting it off longer either. So he kisses her through the sobs once more, makes love to her once more, and drinks deep from her once more, willing his tongue to carve this memory of her taste, her essence, her love as deep into his mind as it may.

She takes the promised tenday to get her affairs in order, and to set up all that may only be done during sunlit hours: she organizes herself a nighttime funeral, arranges for her assets to be dealt with as she may, and makes sure to hold him tight, to mourn with him as if she herself wasn't the one dying. And each night, she speaks sweet, reassuring nonsense of the permanence of memory, of rebirth, and the aching, heartrending beauty of gentle endings.

And once no more minutiae is left to handle, there is no more delaying the inevitable.

She is laid to rest in a modest ceremony, in a small circle of trusted friends, under the light of a waning moon.

~

He mourns, bitter and alone, for years- barely leaving his chambers out of necessity, flitting through the nights as a ghost not entirely unlike the one he was so long ago, until one evening he wakes to find the pain... bearable. There will quite possibly never not be a wound on his soul now, but even the deepest wounds, they scar over: there's new, tender flesh, pink and gnarled, stretching over the void of her absence now. And life, it continues as it does, relentless.

Decades pass. The new flesh, it toughens, thickens, until it can scarcely be seen, unless you know where to look for it: the loss now lives only in the absent-minded seeking of her warmth in his cold slumber, in the automatic gesture of taking two wine glasses from the cabinet only to set one back down; it lives behind the locked door of her untouched workshop and in the slip of parchment left between the yellowed pages of the book she had never finished reading.

Until one evening, shortly after nightfall, there is a knock, hard and insistent, on the door.

His body redies itself for a fight, as if a hunter might be so bold as to announce their arrival- but curiosity, it's too hard to resist, and he scarcely makes an effort.

It's... an elf. But not any elf- a woman, younger, taller, and fuller in figure than she was, and her hair, it's a tightly curled warm chestnut rather than her blood-red waves, but it's unmistakable: her features, they are exactly the same. The same fire amber eyes, the same freckles dotting her cheekbones, even the same raised mark at the edge of her jaw that sits there like an insect had folded its wings and chosen to make its home on her skin. And the stranger speaks, with her voice, before he could find his own.

"So you do live!" she says, equal parts disbelieving and relieved, "Or, well, something like that. I could tell that you were a vampire, from the-" she gestures vaguely to his face, "-fangs and all, but I still wasn't sure I'd ever actually find you."

There's... a prickle of understanding. It's her, but... not quite. Her soul. Her, but born anew. And she returned in a way, to reminisce, to meet him once more- and his mouth opens, but the words, wary and elated and tender at the same time, get lost on their way to his lips.

It's an imperfect replica of her laugh that leaves the woman's mouth. "Gods, don't gape at me like a beached carp like that! I've been seeing nothing but your damn face in my trance for decades now; I was looking for you, hoping you could answer some questions I have." The familiar stranger flashes her mischievous smile. "Can I come in? I feel we have a lot to talk about."

~

There is no love in this. But, there's nevertheless something... bolstering, in the unique opportunity he can present to the new owner of her soul: the opportunity to get to know, truly know, who she once was. Halting and strange as it may be, they do talk quite a long time, and when she leaves, it's with gratitude, and a short, awkward, one-armed hug that she bids her farewell.

And time stretches, infinite yet again.

As long as he may live, her soul, it continues seeking his across however many lifetimes, until one day, the strange elf finds the door in their hazy memories hanging off its hinges, and the home, collapsed and empty, maybe for decades now.

Occasionally, it is still said that in each generation, there may very well be an elf born whose soul feels an irresistible need to make a curious, solitary pilgrimage to the ruins of a city once known as Baldur's Gate, and hope against hope to find a pale man with red eyes wandering the empty streets.

And maybe, a woman who had once lived there so many centuries ago was right: there's an aching, heartrending kind of beauty in that.

[kavvueh]

AO3 WRAPPED!!!

Now tell me why the longest fic I read is xvn but the ONLY ships that show up on my wrapped are hkv???? skewed!!!!!!!!11111

this was fun to see though lol. (You can do it through here!)

[gosiksmallspace]

Winter season started. Good time to work on my Jaeho x Hyunsoo winter fic again. Maybe this year I will actually finish it.