#I have so many fics that I just..hoard to myself because of this fear

[necromeowncy]

I saw a post regarding fic collections/how they're difficult to navigate, so I put some outlines in the descriptions for both Reflections and Delights:

I hope this is easier to browse! I'm never sure if folks somehow miss seeing these... Looking back, I probably should have made each of these fics their own individual oneshots, but I was self-conscious about spamming the wolgraha tag on AO3 and thought people would get mad at me somehow. lol (I realize this is silly, now, almost 2 years later.)

Anyway. I hope you enjoy, if you haven't read these yet! Reflections are canon-related stories, and Delights are extremely kinky oneshots.

[lloydfrontera]

what do you think llojavi's child will be? I love reading your hc.

mmhhh i never really stopped to think about it tbh! kid fics aren't really my go-to and i'm terrified of having children myself so it's not something i tend to explore with my ships

but if i had to have a hc for them... i think they'd have a lot of children. all of them adopted.

it just makes sense for them as characters imo! they are both deeply compassionate individuals who know what it's like to lose both parents and know how much it means to be brought in to a loving family. they know.

they wouldn't be able to come across a child who needs what they received at one point and look away.

that plus lloyd is an only child, he always wanted a little sibling and was absolutely delighted to get julian, i think once he gets over the instinctual fear of "oh god what the fuck am i doing i don't know how to be a father" and is more comfortable in his role as parent he wouldn't be able to resist the idea of having a bunch of kids running around their home. i'm thinking maybe four. probably six. no more than eight.

but. i do think the first kid would be javier's fault.

in one of those rare occasions he's not glued to lloyd's side, he'd go out to run some errands or something and then come back with a semi-terrified look on his face and a far-too-small-for-their-age kid in his arms.

lloyd just,,, stares at them for a little bit before taking the kid and charge of the situation. he's never really had any experience with kids but they're just,,, people. in tiny. he knows people, he can work with that. his friendly and straightforward demeanor immediately wins over the child, making him relax and open up in a way that javier's warm but stilted demeanor weren't quite able to.

i'm thinking a four or five year old, just to really hammer down the parallels between javier and him. very tiny. with dark hair and dark eyes. the kind of features that don't really stand out in a crowd.

i think the two of them would think it's just something temporary, just until they find someone more suitable to raise a kid, a good family that could take him in.

neither of them really mentions the idea of keeping the child, at first because it's not even a possibility but then as the weeks pass by because they're just too wary of disrupting the routine they unconscionably created and actually having to take a decision about it.

but then one morning javier looks over during breakfast and there's lloyd pilling all sorts of food into the kid's plate, chatting him up the entire time, playfully teasing him into eating everything he can, the two of them very solemnly haggling and bargaining over just how many vegetables he has to eat in every meal and a wave of pure love and affection rushes through him and he realizes that. oh. he wants this to last forever.

he doesn't mention it tho. he knows lloyd has always talked about having an easy, relaxed life, free of any concerns and burdens. and raising a child is not an easy responsibility. spending the rest of his life at lloyd's side already feels like more than he deserves, he won't selfishly asks for more than lloyd is willing to give.

he will just enjoy however long this lasts and hope the separation won't hurt as much as he's bracing himself for.

meanwhile lloyd caught javier with the kid on top of him napping on a sunbeam like two weeks ago, both of them completely sprawled out and dead to the world, except when they unconsciously moved to chase the moving sunlight and then he immediately decided he was gonna keep this. them. all of it.

he already reached his limit on how many times he can lose his family. he's no longer letting anything else keep him from hoarding his loved ones like a dragon with their treasure.

and he's terrified to admit it but the pipsqueak has already burrowed his way into his heart and now heaven help the soul that tries to take him away from lloyd. he's not above biting.

that's precisely why he doesn't bring it up with javier because,,, he really doesn't know what would happen if javier isn't on board with the plan. he's not selfish enough to make a decision like this for the both of them but he really doesn't think he can give the kid up anymore.

so he just. doesn't say anything. he continues with the routine they've made and hopes time will be enough to make javier fall for the child the same way lloyd did already.

and then this goes on for a couple weeks because these two are terrible and i love them for it. but this is like. not great. it actually kind of really sucks for them but also for the child

it all comes crashing down when the poor kid breaks down on them at some point because someone told him they were giving him away and, hey, turns out, not telling a child who's been left on the streets to survive by himself what's the plan for them because you're too busy worrying your partner won't be on board with keeping him is not a great idea! because he's gonna be lowkey fretting about what will happen to him and ultimately freak out at the slightest suggestion that he's being abandoned again! who would've thought!

they both immediately try to comfort him but they can't get to the bottom of his fears and actually give him reassurance because they don't know if they can promise him anything because they don't know what the other is thinking.

that is until they make eye contact in the middle of comforting him and it's one of those perfect moments where they're in total sync and can have entire conversations with just one look. and they realize how stupid they've been. because of course the other also wanted the same thing. of course they would want to give this child the very same thing they've received from their loved ones. how could've they ever doubted that.

after that is just really a matter of convincing the kid that of course they're not giving him away, he's staying right there with them, they can be his family now if that's what he wants. which isn't really hard because apart from this one communication issue they have actually been pretty good improvised parents to the squirt. and now that they know for sure they will be his parents forever, they try even harder to be better.

so that's how they adopt their first child.

i could go into detail about the rest of the kids are adopted but. that would make for an even longer post and this is already way more than i wanted to write askjhdkss

this is,,, really not what you asked for but it's what came out when i sat down to answer this ask, so like. i hope you still like it nonnie and i'm really sorry 〒▽〒

[randonauticrap]

I Love You, Goodbye.

Pairing ~ self ship/Jin Grandet

Word Count ~ 825

Author's Note ~ Hey guys! This one is crazy personal for me. I normally don't post self ship fics because I'm not one to hoard a character to myself, and I don't like excluding anyone from getting in on the fun! But this one kind of tumbled out of me, and even though it's personal, and definitely kinda sad, I wanted to share it. It's kind of hurt/comfort, and it comes directly from Madame L's personal little fantasy bank. lol I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

I danced with him. He led me around the dance floor in a beautiful waltz, my waist encompassed by one of his large hands. He held me close, as if he knew; as if he could possibly know, that this dance was our goodbye. I fought the tears that threatened to fall, and let my head cradle into Jin’s chest, absorbing his warmth into my soul, and trying to memorize every stretch in his muscular body. His kiss imprinted itself on the top of my head, even after his lips left it. The hand that held mine squeezed it gently, reminding me of our promise; the promise we had pledged to one another, wrapped in pleasure and safety. Only I knew that it couldn’t be kept. Jin would remain blissfully unaware until it came to pass; until I had to leave him. 

I had no choice. 

Fate had dealt us the worst possible hand, and I could do nothing to change it; nor could he. So we danced. We danced once more in the wistful gaze of the sconces on the walls, our bodies mimicking those of the other guests around us. The rustle of skirts swinging in unison and the click of the ladies’ heels on the floor; the swish of each gentleman’s coat tails as he spun his lady in his arms, pulling her back to his chest with the intent of never letting her go. As Jin pulled me back into him, he grasped my chin, so gently I almost didn’t discern it, and tilted my head upwards, forcing me to meet his garnet eyes. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured, concern laced in every beautiful feature. “What is it?” 

“Jin,” I muttered softly, a rogue tear escaping my eye and traveling the length of my face before Jin caught it with a kiss and erased it from existence. But where there was one, there were many, and I knew that they would overwhelm even his intense love eventually. “I can’t-” I choked out the words, but the knot in my throat would allow no more to pass between my lips, and more tears found their way to the surface. I couldn’t do this, not here, so I grasped his wrist and pulled him behind me, away from the color, away from the light, out into the darkness on the balcony. The rain poured from the sky, drenching everything below it in its descent. This… this was a place suited for what was to come. “Jin, I can’t stay.” I whispered, so softly I almost hoped the rain swallowed the sound so that he didn’t have to hear it. 

But I knew he had. I knew because I felt him stiffen; though he was several feet from me, I felt the way his corded muscles pulled taut beneath his skin, and how each hair on his body pulled to stand on end. I felt the hurt build inside him as my words sunk in; the desperation, the betrayal, the fear. The fear. 

“What?” he managed to utter, a near-silent cry in the night. 

“I- I’m not real, Jin. Not.. not to you. Not to this place.” I stuttered, gripping the rain-soaked banister with all my might, as if it could steady the spiraling descent of my heart into war-torn pieces. 

“What does that even mean?” his forceful whisper had anger in it; misunderstanding; fear.     

“This,” I gestured to the scene before me. “All of this, is a dream for me. You are a dream. I don’t know when it will happen, but soon I’ll wake up. I’ll wake up and I’ll be alone, and you’ll be here.” The tears fell unhindered now, violent as the rain. “You’ll be here, and I’ll be there, without you. I always wake up without you. I always wake up alone. I try so hard to hold on to you, but you’re not there and you can’t be there. Just like I can’t stay here… no matter how much I want to, and God, do I want to.” I closed my eyes and let the sobs come, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop them anyway.

Strong arms wrapped around my trembling body and pulled me close. “You’re always here, to me. Let me always be there, for you.” he said, dropping a tender kiss to my head, then to my neck, and as I turned to meet his eyes, he captured my lips in a kiss filled with so much love that my heart broke again, just for him. “I’ll be there when you wake up too. You may not see me, but I’ll be there. Believe that. You have to.” 

“Why do I have to?” I asked through my tears.

“Because I do.” he replied, tears of his own staining his blush-tinted cheeks. 

I nodded and pressed my lips to his again, pulling him closer than should be possible. 

“I love you, Jin Grandet.”

~

Tags for the lovelies: @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @ikehoe @rhodolitesroseforclavis @atelieredux

[twilitty]

3 & 3 bella x jacob for your fic ask game? 👀👉🏻👈🏻

Thank you for the ask! I almost went wayyy overboard with this so I had to rein myself in lol I hope you enjoy it! Just a sweet little date to the movies (1.2k words) warning: this was not proof read lol so ignore any mistakes please

It was Billys idea for Jake and I to go to the movies, or rather, it was his idea for us to leave his house and suggested the movie theatre to ensure we’d be gone for a length of time. Billy Black, while a fan of both his son and I, is not a fan of having his living room dominated by us. After our latest movie recorded over his baseball game he told us we had to find another place to go, and that once the MLB season was over we’d be allowed back in the house. This seems to affect Jacob more than it does me.

“I don’t see why he can’t just go watch with Harry or your dad or something,” He complains to me after we pile into my truck, him taking over the drivers seat because apparently I make him nauseous. No, not me, my driving abilities. It’s a common argument in our relationship although our arrangement of him driving works better for both of us. I get to look out the window and choose the music, he is saved from the migraine and stomach ache my driving supposedly causes.

“That’s his house, we shouldn’t be kicking him out,” I say while sliding through radio stations. “Besides this way we get movie popcorn not the microwave stuff.” This way I am also forced to dress in something other than sweatpants and a big t-shirt, which seems to be my uniform whenever I’m at the Blacks. This is my first time wearing jeans in nearly a week, the texture is familiar and rejuvenates my confidence. I mentally thank Billy.

“That’s my house,” the boy next to me says, sounding just a little bit like a scorned toddler. “I should get some rights to the TV.”

“You get TV rights once baseball is over,” I say, rephrasing what his father told us. I have no idea when the baseball season officially ends, or even when it started. And, I don’t dare say this for fear that Jake’s mood will remain negative, but I think another sport comes after baseball. Maybe football? Or hockey? Jacob will likely not get TV rights until he moves out and buys his own TV.

“Yeah, yeah, just not the same thing.”

The drive into Port Angeles, which houses the nearest theatre, is comfortable and quiet except for new age rock playing through the speakers. Jake has tried to install an aux input, so I can play music from my phone, but I won’t let him. I enjoy the radio, and besides there are too many choices on my phone.

The movie theatre is dead. It’s not a deal day and no new movies have been released, or at least not any popular movies. The theatre is hosting Actress Night, where they showcase some of the highest ranking movies from an actress previously voted on. It’s Julia Roberts tonight, Jennifer Aniston tomorrow, and some other woman we’re way too young to know the name of after that. Jake purchases us two tickets, I pick up the bill for popcorn and drinks.

This is one of my favourite things about being with Jacob. It’s so easy. He pays for some stuff and I pay for some and sometimes when we’re both broke we just sit at home and eat stale pretzels while watching Real Housewife reruns. I don’t have to worry about owing him money or the scales of our relationship being tipped unevenly.

The room which hosts our movie, Pretty Woman, is nearly empty except for a few middle aged couples sitting near the front. “I’ll never understand why adults congregate at the front like that, it must hurt their eyes to be so close to the screen,” I mumble as we pass two men sitting so close their heads are tilted completely upwards just to see the opening advertisements.

“Or,” Jacob tells me, “They’ll be too busy getting funky to watch.” That’s the other thing with dating Jacob Black, he enjoys saying things that he knows get under my skin. He’s brash, bold, saying whatever he wants. I’m a little more timid, and this is something I never forget when I’m with him.

“Ohmigod.” I duck my head, grabbing his wrist to pull him up the glow-in-the-dark stairs. “I doubt they’re… getting funky.” His wrist twists and I end up holding his hand, him stepping up to be on the same level as me.

“Bella, come on, adults always come to the movies to get freaky-”

“Stop with the lingo or I leave,” I bluff. “No more funky or freaky, got it, Black?”

He squeezes my hand once, smiling down at me with mild humour, russet skin illuminated by the stairs. I love his smile. “Alright,” he agrees with a sideways pull of his mouth, trying to hide a laugh. “But you better not be expecting anything spicy from me tonight.” A woman turns over her shoulder to look at us, a frown impeding on her expression. Jake notices this and guffaws a little too loudly. “Come on, let's go.”

He pulls me up the stairs to the very top level, my feet all too willing to carry me away from the scowling woman. We sit in the middle of the row and I can hear Jessica in my mind, the back row is for more than kissing. I should know, Mike and I always sit in the back row. Angela had a field day with this information, by which I mean every time she and I went to the movies she would actively avoid the back row so as to not contaminate her clothing with the supposedly filthy seats. Now, sitting next to my boyfriend in the more than kissing row, I am feeling a little worried about the state of our seats.

The movie title rolls as Jake slides his phone off and places it in my purse, which he dutifully places on the seat next to him. “To make sure nobody snatches it,” he informs me, even though out of all twelve people in the room, we are the only ones up here. The popcorn stays on his lap, pushed against the arm rest so I can access it without needing to lean all the way over. He won’t let me hold the bag, which is my own fault. I tend to hoard my movie snacks and he is most definitely not letting that happen.

As the movie opens, Julia Roberts dressed scantily, Jake takes my hand in his as I reach for popcorn. “If you finish this within the first fifteen minutes I will be very disappointed in you.” He whispers it, sending a pointed look at me, as if I’m known for my Olympic-level popcorn eating skills. I am not known for this skill, and the only person aware of it is Jacob Black and he seems hell bent on making sure I don’t eat my share and then his.

“You’re such a nerd,” I whisper back, but even I can hear the smile in my voice. He releases my hand for a moment before recatching it and twining his fingers through mine. We sit like this for a while, hand in hand, me craving a sticky handful of popcorn and him all too happy to watch me struggle to eat with my free hand.

The movie continues, Jake whispering criticisms in my ear as new events and plot turns take place. When Julia is denied help at the expensive store he whispers, “I would have served her,” then with a look at my expression he quickly back peddles, “not ‘cause she’s pretty but ‘cause she deserves respect and service. You gotta treat people fairly, you know.” Then we lapse back into silence.

The movie ends, I take the empty cups and popcorn bag, Jake takes my purse and informs me that it brings out the honey shades in his eyes. I’m not sure he even knows what that means, but let him hold my purse because he enjoys doing things like that. Sometimes I bring my purse even when I don’t need it, just so he can hold onto it.

[alliterative-albatross]

So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

~

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again. 

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise! 

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory. 

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs, 

~ Jay

[luvielle]

Sa Ngalan Ng Pag-Ibig

(This has been in the works since September? I only got around to finishing this because of EBG haha. This fic was largely inspired by an Osomatsu-san animatic of ‘Sakura’ by Funky Monkey Babys and ‘Sa Ngalan Ng Pag-Ibig’ by December Avenue.

TAGS:

First @tchaiko-my-bae, I promised to make you cry but I’m not sure if I wrote this fic properly hngg.

To @un-beel-ievable​ tagging you child. Hoping this takes you down during EBG akjshd.

To @mobagehelllocal, who gave me advice on how to write angst. Thank you so much hngg.)

WARNING: Character death, angst, uhm... sad Leona-san?

Hope you enjoy? :3

....

The scent of iron lingers in the air before he sees you.

Leona frowns to himself when you greet him with a smile on your face, eyes roving over your form to ensure there were no injuries.

“Is something wrong, Leona-senpai?” Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, concern evident on your face as you peered down at him. “You’re making a weird face.”

The brunet clicked his tongue as he turned away, ignoring the giggles that escaped your lips at his expense. “Don’t you have idiots to watch, herbivore?”

“Don’t you have classes to attend, Leona-senpai?” You say in response.

Groaning at the sound of your voice, the beastman turned away in feigned sleep, his tail giving away his annoyance.

“Leona-senpai,” you say with your hands on your hips. “Come on, you don’t want to repeat another year, do you?”

You bend down to pull at the beastman, letting out a squeak in surprise when you find yourself being pulled into his arms instead. “S-s-senpai!”

“Herbivore.” 

You stop struggling at his silent reprimand, reluctantly melting in his embrace as you let out a defeated sigh. “Just this once, okay?” You whisper quietly with eyes closed.

Leona adjusted his hold on your form, ensuring that you would be comfortable as you slept in his arms.

“Just for a while,” he quietly whispered, wishing with all his heart that this moment would never last. “Just for now.”

….

The scent of iron lingers in the air before he sees you.

Leona wrinkles his nose at the sharp metallic scent in the air, grumbling in feigned displeasure as you wrap your arms around his waist in greeting.

“Leona-senpai!”

Ruggie waves at you from the lion’s other side, laughing at his dorm leader’s disgruntled look. “(Y/N)-chan~! Hello, hello!”

“No classes today?” Leona let out a grunt at your question, earning a laugh as you skip to match his long strides. “It’s a serious question!”

Leona quickens his pace enough to stay ahead of you, but still within your reach. “We have a free period today,” he tells you with a smirk curling at his lips. “Ah, but first years have to attend their classes, don’t they?”

Ruggie watches from behind as Leona continues to tease you with a smile on his face, quick to silence his laughter when you attempt to tackle the tall third year.

It was times like this when the hyena could appreciate your presence.

Only you could put a smile on the Savanaclaw dorm leader’s face like this.

….

The scent of iron lingers in the air before he sees you.

He doesn’t have to wonder, this time.

There’s blood on your lips and in your hands. Thick with that familiar metallic scent and red, so very red.

Leona is beside you in minutes, gently pulling away your bloody hands from smearing the red on your face. “How did this happen?” He tightens his grip on your wrist, not enough to hurt you, but tight enough to dissuade you from pulling away from him.

“I--” you cough harshly, expelling more blood as you do. “I’m okay, really!”

“Leona-senpai,” Jack’s voice interrupts from the side, his ears drooping down, betraying the harsh look on his face.

“What is it?” Leona says with a growl, impatient with the hesitant wolf before him.

“It’s not his fault,” you tell him after giving Jack what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s my fault, really.”

Leona frowns at you in disbelief, his tail swishing agitatedly behind him; the only indication of his current mood.

“I-It’s hard to explain,” you mumble to yourself, your words clear to him despite the low volume. “You don’t have to trouble yourse--”

“Try.” Leona rumbled out.

Jack offers to explain to his dorm leader, willing to brave the storm should you say so. 

“It’s okay,” you tell your fellow first year. “I can-- I can explain.”

And so Jack leaves, tail stiff as he eyes the dark look on his dorm leader’s face, but reassured still with the promise you silently give him with your smile.

“Can--” you hesitantly start. “Can I clean myself first? I-- It’s hard to talk with all the blood…”

....

Leona storms out of the Ramshackle Dorm after you tell him the truth of your condition.

“Magic and I don’t go well together,” you told him over tea and snacks. “Headmaster theorised that because of the lack of magic in me, because of the foreign magic I’ve been exposed to all year, well, it’s taking a toll on me.”

How the magic of Twisted Wonderland was truly twisted, you thought as you watched Leona’s figure leave the grounds on which you had started to call home.

“It’s like an allergic reaction. I had no magic to begin with, no resistance; nothing.”

You had no defense, nothing to your name, and so no protection was offered. It was cruel.

“So it’s killing you,” is his only reply.

You would forever remember the look in Leona’s eyes as he told you what you had feared. It would haunt you, you decided with a shudder.

“Yes, i-it’s killing me.”

The look he’d given you would have made even the strongest and bravest of men falter. 

Sighing to yourself, you busied in cleaning the room. Smiling wryly when you found the dusty remains of the teacup you had offered the proud lion. “Honestly,” you huffed, violently coughing into your fist when your body sensed the magic from the sand.

“Ah…” Crumbling down from beside the couch, you force yourself to ignore the pain in your throat. It would surely pass, is what you tell yourself.

Soon you succumb to the pain, your body deciding to shut down from the onslaught of pain and magic in your system. Sleep overtakes your form as gravity cradles you in its arms.

….

You don’t see neither hide nor hair of the Savanaclaw dorm leader in the following days.

It left you feeling empty, whenever you’d see yellow vests pass from the corner of your eye. You knew he wasn’t the only one to forgo the blazer, but still you couldn’t help but hope.

Jack did his best to bring you news of the wayward dorm leader, but even then it wasn’t enough. Ace and Deuce did their best, but the chaos they wrought with Grim in tow was too much, and so their interactions with you were heavily restricted. 

Epel often came along with apple pies and the class notes, somedays found him ranting from beside you about his troubles with his own dorm leader. He would go on for hours, checking up on you in between rants before resuming. Rook would come most days, to bring the wandering Monsieur Small Apple back to their dorm. It brought a smile on your face to see the two interact with each other, so Epel swallowed his complaints and allowed the blond hunter to bother him.

As for Sebek… Well, you had always wondered, but now you had your answers. He was like magic. The longer he stayed with you, the weaker you got. It certainly surprised everyone when you collapsed before the young retainer, his panicked shouts alerting both teachers and students alike. That was the last time you saw any Diasomnia students.

The rest of the first years stayed with you when Grim was barred from doing so, he was a magical creature and would only be a detriment to your health. You hated it, that slowly, but surely, you were being isolated.

Time passed slowly for you, until finally, you found yourself quarantined in the room you’d chosen for yourself in Ramshackle, all those months ago.

You were too weak now, to stand and walk on your own.

Crowley would visit, but his visits were so sporadic you often wondered whether it was a hallucination that he came flying from the window, declaring himself your gracious nurse for the day.

“I wonder how Leona-senpai is doing,” you whisper quietly to yourself, on one the days Ruggie came to visit with Jack. “He’s usually sleeping at this hour, isn’t he?”

Ruggie avoids your eyes as he practically shoves the bowl of soup into your hands, laughing as he excuses himself. Jack follows after his senior after you finish your soup.

He’d stayed silent as well, when you asked.

….

He had avoided you for too long, and it had taken its toll on the proud prince. Leona had decided, that day you shared with him the truth, to help you. Even if you were to part from him, at least he knew you were alive and well.

Crowley often brought up how his graciousness continued to search for a way to your home, but Leona found himself doubting the headmaster.

So he took to the library, going as far as to attend the classes he had missed. The bastard hunter eyed him with a knowing look before singing praises his way, it made his skin crawl. Leona hoarded everything he’d learned, locking himself in the laboratories during his free period.

All so he could save you.

It took a long while, but he finally found an answer after one too many discussions with Pomefiore’s vice dorm leader.

If you had no magic to protect yourself from the foreign magic found everywhere, why not slowly introduce magic into your system. The idea came to him during class one day, and Trein was very much displeased when he excused himself by jumping out the window.

Leona rushed to the laboratories then, and may have started a small fire. Crewel threatened to ban him, but that wasn’t important in the end. He had succeeded! And that was enough for him.

“Be prepared, herbivore.” Leona grins with all the confidence of a man emerging victorious from a hard won battle as he makes his way to the Ramshackle dorm.

....

The scent of iron lingers in the air before he sees you.

It isn’t a pretty picture, the one he walks into.

There is too much red on the white sheets of your bed, everything is too clean and yet, there is blood on your bed.

Leona almost attacks the ghosts that haunt the dorm, watching with mounting dread as the three shake their heads at his silent question, hats lowered in their hands to pay their respects.

“She was getting weaker everyday,” the slim ghost tells him, but there is cotton in his ears. “(Y/N) could barely even lift herself, but she tried still.”

“We left her for a while,” the largest ghost continues, ignorant of the cold seeping into Leona’s bones. “For lunch. When we came back, this is how we found her.”

Leona desperately fights the stinging in his eyes, deluding himself into thinking it was the dust from the old dorm. 

You looked so peaceful, if not for the blood on your clothes and sheets, no one would have wondered whether you were asleep or not.

“No one was with her,” the last ghost says, and it is the last straw for the once proud lion. 

Leona sinks down unto his knees, hands clutching at your cold ones like a child clinging to their mother. He doesn’t notice the ghosts leave, doesn’t move from beside your quiet heartbeat as he cries out in pain. 

Everything he did, it all amounted to nothing in the end. Nothing he did would be rewarded. He was a curse; to everyone around him, to you, the one person he loved.

Unbidden, a memory resurfaces to the front of his mind.

It was when you had come to wake him, to try and make him attend his classes. Before everything snowballed down.

He had asked then, what you would do once given the chance to return home.

“Hmm?” Leona grumbled when the sunlight hit his eyes as you moved away. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Hah? Don’t you miss your family, or something?” 

You playfully gasp at his hypocrisy, laughing out loud when his tail swats at you in displeasure. You tackled the downed brunet, crying out in surprise when he rolled out of the way and scooped you up before you could fall.

He should have paid better attention.

“I’m waiting for something,” you told him when you left the gardens. “Or well, I’m waiting for someone…”

He should have listened.

Leona cries into the bloodied sheets of your bed, hands holding tight to yours, wishing with all his heart, that this moment never came to pass.

If only he had stayed by your side, then maybe he could have seen you smile, one last time.

[quickspinner]

WIP game #2 and #9 (dont be vague)

Pfft miss sassy you may regret that, you know how I can ramble.

2. Do you name your wip before, during, or after writing?

I think mostly after. Sometimes I get a great idea for a title right away or as I'm working, but most of the time I get to the end and think, shoot, what am I going to call this? I give them a filename right away but usually it's just the pairing or fandom followed by a few words that I think will be enough to remind me what it's about when I'm looking at the list (for example, the fic currently named Lukanette Coast Guard will probably have a different name if it actually makes it to publication but that filename is enough to remind me that it's my Lukanette AU where Marinette is a coast guard helicopter pilot). Sometimes it doesn't work and I have no idea what a particular filename was supposed to refer to until I open it and look, and then I go ooooooh that one! 😁

9. A wip you regret (you can vague this)

Regret in what context though? Mostly I only regret not finishing. I do regret this Lukanette honeymoon cruise thing I've been banging my head against a little bit, but not enough to throw it out apparently. I occasionally regret publishing a thing too soon so that it ends up hanging out there waiting for an update forever because I thought I was closer to being done with it than I was (Beautiful Dreams) or because I got ahead of myself and put too many out there at once (Guard My Heart, The Magic of You, Live with It, Indelible) and then life happens and updates take forever. I regret the ones that never even made it to publication; I had a Dragon Age: Origins fic based on the Dalish origin that I loved but never got finished enough to publish.

Anyway, I don't usually regret starting a WIP. I don't mind scribbling something down and letting it live in a folder forever, but I do mind when I put something out to share that doesn't get done. I have regretted a lot of stories while I was in the middle of them (I regretted Killer Combo many, many times during the writing of it, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and my friends deserved a fruit basket each for putting up with me during the process) but it's always passing while I wrestle out the difficult pieces or deal with the fear of disappointing when it suddenly hits home that people are actually reading a thing and now I have to Deliver. Generally speaking, though, I write for fun, and if it ain't fun, I just don't do it, so I don't feel like I have a lot of regrets.

WIP Hoard Meme

[jinmukangwrites]

For the fic continuation, could you maybe do Speak? The one where the links meet wild and they can only communicate in sign due to a language barrier.

It came unexpectedly. Wild hardly ever spoke about himself, let alone start that kind of conversation himself. Time never pushed him to talk about his past experiences, and with how difficult it was for Wild to communicate with the others it wasn’t like any of the others would either. To them, everyone in the group was a hero and worthy of being there in some way, and there is no need to make questions about it.

Besides, the scars on Wild’s body was proof enough that whatever the boy had gone through, he had earned the right to not talk about it.

And Time was prepared to continue not talking about it, no matter how his curiosity grew every time the boy woke up from nightmares only to babble in an unrecognizable language and sign too quickly and shakily for Time to really make out the words. Twilight did his best to help in his own subtle ways, turning into a wolf and coddling the hero was normally enough, but even then sometimes Time wondered if whatever terrified the boy so much was too big for kind gestures to help. Perhaps the boy needed to talk about them, yet the next morning he would be back to his happy go lucky self, speaking Twilight’s tongue like a toddler, but still getting along with everyone.

Time couldn’t bring himself to approach the matter when Wild was so happy and carefree during the day.

So, it was all the more shocking that when Wild finally sat down across from him and spoke of his past, it was in the middle of the day with the sun shining down on their backs, right after a particularly exhausting battle with a hoard of lizolfos.

Well, he didn’t really speak. He used his signs, he did whenever he got too emotionally compromised. It took Time years to work out of that himself when he was younger.

When I woke up, he signed, his face distant and his hands slightly shaking. Time didn’t dare ask what he meant by waking up, and just remained silent and let the kid continue. I knew how to talk. But I also knew sign. But that didn’t matter because when I met the old man, he knew both. I could talk to him however I needed to, and he would respond the same. But... he didn’t warn me for what would happen after I enter the world and start meeting people.

Not a single person could understand my words. They said I spoke like I was from ancient poetry. The words I said were wrong or weird or hard to understand, so I just... stopped talking all together. Impa knew a little sign, and she knew my language, and Purah did too, but it seemed like the rest of the world moved on without me. Language moved on. I was old fashioned. A hundred years asleep and I wake up to a kingdom I’m tasked with protecting but can’t even understand me.

I, his hands pause and he takes a deep breath, I went a long time without talking. On purpose then. Before it was just sometimes. Sometimes words feel heavy in my throat and I had to use my hands. But this time, even if I wanted to scream to the world I forced myself not to. Then, after I rescued Zelda, I found that she was in the same position as I was. She expressed fascination in it though. She was curious about how a language can change in a mere one hundred years. Impa and the others helped us both relearn Hylian, but even then, I spent so long not talking to anyone that I only did it when I really had to.

He set his hands down on his lap and released a shaky breath. Time forced himself to remain absolutely still as Wild looked up and gave him a look that spoke a million words.

“Thank you,” he says slowly, the words of Twilight’s language thick and round in his mouth. “Thank you for helping me find my words again.”

He stumbled over those words. Even Time could tell that he pronounced a few wrong. But even though he didn’t understand all of Wild’s story, he can understand how painful it must have been for him. He smiled. “It was my pleasure, cub,” he replies a bit more tastefully in Twilight’s language, though that’s only because he’s had more practice with it. Before, he had just as many struggles with it that Wild currently does, except where the words are too rounded for Wild they were too sharp for Time in other places. Too quick. Twilight likes to compare him to an ancient tortoise whenever he talks out loud.

Wild smiles and says something under his breath in his own language with a relieved sigh.

Time takes a risk and places his hand on Wild’s shoulder. He squeezes the joint and then brings both of his hands back in front of his chest.

If there is anything you ever need to talk about, I am always willing to listen. You don’t need to fear being heard from me.

Wild laughs, bringing a sleeve to his eye to wipe away the beginning of a tear and Time decides that it’s been enough for one day. Wild looks suddenly more bright and joyful than what he has in a good few days and Time doesn’t want to push.

“Let’s head back to the others,” Time says, holding his hand out for Wild to take. And Wild does, and Time can’t help but feel a surge of pride because of that. From what he does understand from his story, he’s been alone for a very long time. He’s locked himself up for a very long time. And if Time is the one to get him back out of that shell again, then it might just be the most honorable thing he will ever do.

[snowbellewells]

CS January Joy Day 30: “Save Me the Last Dance”

(Apologies for the confusion to anyone who saw this fic posted a couple days ago. I was accidentally early and on the wrong day, so I took it down and am reposting now.  Hope you will enjoy!!)

I have had this basic idea floating around in my head for a long time, and almost psyched myself out of it. Since I had wanted to do it for so long, it was like I forgot how I wanted to go about it (if that even makes any sense!) I had the lyrics of the oldies song “Save the Last Dance for Me”  (and probably repeated viewings of “The Wedding Date” too! ;) spark the actual idea, and then that line of Killian’s (“Go on, charm your princes…”) so I simply needed to fill in the rest around that imagined scene.  Thanks so much to @csjanuaryjoy for giving me the chance to finally get this done by focusing on something fun and a little spicy, but most of all - happy and free of angst.  

***This takes place in some post- Season 6 world where they all returned to the Enchanted Forest, as I had always hoped they would do at the show’s end...

She knew exactly what she was doing, of that he was certain. Killian felt his tongue slip out to graze his bottom lip hungrily as he watched his love work the room, unable to tear his eyes away. ‘The saucy minx,’ his subconscious chuckled while he shook his head at his own body’s helpless reaction to his princess wife - even after nearly six years of marriage. Emma Swan - well, Emma Jones - was truly a marvel; that fact had never once changed, from the very first day he had laid eyes upon her in the charred and smoking remains of a refuge camp, all the way up to the present moment as she smiled and curtsied in her formal gown and jewelled tiara.

It was clear to Killian that she would never cease to take his breath away - and the quick, smug glance she cut at him from the corner of her eye, while the foreign dignitary from Agrabah she was greeting with all proper pomp and polite reserve was bowing to her, told him that she knew it as well. Though Emma might still be that “tough lass” he’d taken her for as they climbed the giant’s beanstalk, when she still didn’t trust him and made a formidable adversary cloaked in distrust and suspicion as much as her denim and leather, Killian also got to experience the softness and warmth beneath her armor, more so than he’d really had a right to hope for at the outset.  After half a decade of marriage, he was privy to the perfect way her body fit in his embrace, how she rubbed the chilly tip of her nose in the hollow of his throat as she fought against waking in the morning, and the sensual slide of her skin, the softest and most enflaming sensation he had ever encountered, against his own. Yes, Killian knew all those parts of her well, and hoarded each one as the finest treasure, the way any good pirate would. And because he knew her mind and her secrets, he also knew when she was teasing him - as she was doing just then.

Ostensibly, Princess Emma had every reason not to come immediately stand beside him and enjoy his sole companionship. Some three years prior, her family - and most of the inhabitants of Storybrooke - had chosen to return to the Enchanted Forest, their true home and intended birthright, feeling the responsibility to heal and repair their land and set it to rights could no longer be ignored. It had taken hard work and time, not to mention much diplomacy and negotiation, to see the renewal of Misthaven to full prominence and strength, the way it had been once upon a time, but as this celebratory ball commemorated, their homeland was once more taking its place as a center of government and commerce worthy of note. The turnout of their numerous foreign allies and partners for this occasion proved it even more definitively. As the crown princess, it was Emma’s duty to greet the visiting nobles and gathered emissaries, to listen and make them feel welcome. However, though his Swan cared deeply for her country and her people, she was not one to linger in meaningless pandering and conversation when she could avoid it. Normally she would have made short work of the rounds that were necessary, but he could tell she was set on tormenting him, determined to keep her distance for the sake of driving him slowly insane with need.

The vision of her in the red dress she wore - off the shoulders with fluttering cap sleeves, but fitted all the way throughout the bodice and over her hips to the knees where it flared out in what was called a mermaid skirt (though he knew that term would make Ariel’s brow crinkle in consternation and perplexity if she heard it). The shimmering gown was bright red, and reminded him vividly of the vision she had been at the first ball they ever attended together, the first time they had danced, when he couldn’t have imagined just how much they would come to mean to each other. His mouth went suddenly dry as she leaned over to speak playfully with the diplomat’s young daughter, and deliberately gave him a look down the fitted bodice that no one else would catch. She could tell exactly what it did to him, if the wink she sent his way was any indication.

Finally, the crowd waiting to speak with the princess thinned, and he saw Emma’s mother shoo her toward the dance floor as if releasing her from official duty. It might actually be only a short respite; they couldn’t afford to snub or neglect any of those who had gathered in gratitude after all. He also knew Emma well enough to understand that though she might look as graceful as her namesake avian creature, she would never choose to unwind or cut loose while dressed up in heels and finery, doing proper ballroom dances in front of so many watching eyes. She was more inclined to curl up in her beloved hoodies and sweats or go out sailing with him when she truly wished to feel at ease.

Regardless, he would take the chance to cut which was being placed before him. Sliding over to stand before her, Killian raised his brow at Emma as she drew in a sharp breath of surprise at his sudden appearance, and how close he pressed to her before holding out his hand and hook to pull her into a familiar waltz. Still, there was nothing simple or understated about the scorching look her offered her, making certain she felt the heat simmering from his every pore, the sheer desire burning within his eyes, even as his hand played over her back and his hook brushed an escaped golden tentril of her hair off her forehead before trailing along her collarbone, cool against her rapidly warming skin.

The smirk that crossed his face at the gasp escaping his Savior’s painted lips was as taunting and rakish as any he had ever worn in his most daring years of piracy. Leaning nearer still, he could practically feel Emma’s heart hammering, so rapidly that he feared a moment for it beating out of her chest. She clutched the open collar of his shirt, thumb rubbing through the coarse chest hair she loved, just barely peeping out and giving a hint at the rapscallion beneath his respectable garb.

Before he could think to rein in the impulse that took him over, Killian darted forward to nip at the lobe of her delicate ear, tongue playing briefly with the dangling pearl drop of her earring until a quiet little whimper escaped her for him alone to hear, even as they mostly looked to be dancing sedately to anyone else’s eyes.

Pulling back slightly to search his face, Emma’s expression clearly asked her husband what he was doing, and Killian leaned in to whisper at her cheek, his stubble abrading her pale, flawless skin, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “Oh Princess… you’ve been playing quite the dangerous game.”

“Me?” she whispered breathlessly, attempting to feign innocence though her voice was  light and thready, and he could see a shiver run through her.

“Oh yes, Love,” he nodded, a wicked smile stretching across his devilishly handsome features as he pressed her. “You know just what you’ve been doing to me all night. I’m onto you, Wife.”

Emma smirked back at him now, sliding into the playful banter that had been a part of their relationship almost from its very beginning. “Is that so?  And what am I doing, Husband?” she shot back in jesting challenge.

“Driving me wild,” he growled into the sensitive curve of her neck and shoulder, making her flinch away and flush all the way up to the roots of her golden curls and down until it disappeared into the corset of her dress.

They continued to dance, though they moved closer to the edge of the large marbled palace floor and away from the many other couples. Their steps also slowed as they rotated in smaller circles - more and more caught up in each other.

Killian had her right where he wanted as he murmured for Emma’s hearing alone. “You may have your fun being the perfect royal for now, Darling. Charm your princes and bewitch your knights.  Laugh and dance and make nice, enchant them all… but don’t forget who will take you home when the night is over. Then you’re mine… and you won’t be so proper.”

His eyes glimmered with blue fire as those words sunk in, and Emma’s chest visibly seemed to heave across the tightly cinched corset in a struggle to draw breath once he had stolen it. Killian licked his lips salaciously, holding her in his stare, and Emma nearly tripped, her knees went so weak. If she hadn’t already been clutching him tightly, she would have fallen in a puddle at his feet.

It seemed the Princess of Misthaven deemed her duties that night fulfilled after all, as it was not much longer before she and her pirate consort husband disappeared for the evening - no doubt saving the very last intimate dance for each other alone.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @tiganasummertree​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @spartanguard​ @effulgentcolors​ @branlovestowrite​ @lfh1226-linda​ @thislassishooked​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ 

[looking-for-wisdom]

Bleeding Hearts (chapter one)

a/n: this was a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang! It ended up being roughly 33,000 words, the longest fic I’ve ever written. I loved participating in this event and working with my gang as well as the tides :)

Corporalki: @villainofthepiece​, @dregstrash 

Materialki: @bucumber​ X, @koelsong​ X [art may contain spoilers]

Summary:   Zoya has spent her life learning to survive a world of fairy tales. She knows better to rely on wishes and fate; those things only protected the nice girls, the ones all the stories were about. She was used to doing whatever gruesome task was needed to get by, but now, with her aunt’s life on the line, she has finally met a monster she’s struggling to beat. A monster that comes in the shape of a kind prince she can’t help to grow attached to. 

But that’s always been the case. The monsters are what you find when happiness is just within reach. But she’s strong and she won’t falter— she’ll do what’s needed, as she always has before, to save the only good woman she’s ever known. Even if it means plunging a knife into the heart of the first man she’s ever loved. Even if it means becoming a monster herself.

Ao3 Link: Bleeding Hearts

(chapter one under the cut)

What becomes of the girls whose parents do not teach them unwavering kindness and whose fairy godmothers are not magic enough to keep them from harm? What becomes of the girls the slipper doesn’t fit and the prince does not steal away from drowning in cruelty? There is no happy ending promised at the close of their story. So they learn, learn to swim through the abuse and lift a sword themselves, lest they become another maggot filled body in the graveyard.

Zoya had read the kind of stories where young women overcame their evil stepmothers with their obedience and compassion. Unfortunately, Zoya had no stepmother, just one horrible regular mother who had birthed her and spent every moment after shaping her daughter into an equally horrible side character in someone else’s story. It wasn’t that she was immune to draw of fairy tales and their promises of futures with a prince who called her lovely, but not every girl had that in her cards. Zoya glanced over the hand she’d been dealt. She was not sweet or innocent enough to be the damsel in distress. The game of fate was rigged— with every girl who was saved from misery a hundred others suffered in her stead. 

Shivering but far too afraid to risk asking her mother for a place by the fire, the childish part of her hoped. Winter’s might be less harsh if she was not so alone and unloved. But compassion was a rationed resource, like medicine and wheat. It might have been nice to have, but girls with no one to fight for them had to choose their battles, and unlike bread, kindness didn’t keep her alive. 

Sabina Garin had been wealthy once, many years ago, and like most who had never seen sacrifice, she underestimated its sting. It was easy to be fearless when one had never felt real fear in the first place. 

When her father had passed his inheritance had been split equally between his two daughters. Lilyana, the eldest sister had invested in a plot of land at the edge of town where she kept a small garden and a chicken coop. She built a home there, selling vegetables and eggs in town when she was in need of money, and she was happy. 

With her own cut, Sabina enjoyed the same luxuries she had in her youth. Seeing no appeal in farm work the way her sister did she resided in the house that had belonged to her father. At nineteen she married a handsome man with nothing to his name but a winning smile, and for a while, she was happy as well. At least, until the debt hit. 

Marriage for love is an appealing prospect, but the stories never talk about the bloody endings. No one mentions the way he yells when the money runs out. No one mentions the way she hoards the few jewels she has left because they’re the only thing that makes her feel like herself. No one mentions when the house is taken and she’s bloated and raging from the parasite inside her but he is nowhere to be found.

Sabina’s episodes began not long into her pregnancy. With no trace of her husband and no place to stay but an abandoned stone cottage at the edge of town it wasn’t long before she became unpredictable. It was a miracle that the child made it to its due date in the first place, though one could say it would be the first of many times Lilyana Garin would come to her niece’s aid. 

She had offered her sister help on many occasions, but Sabina had repeatedly refused Lilyana’s generosity. Pride, after all, was the only thing she had left. When Sabina became a danger to herself, however, the older daughter could stay away no longer. Though Sabina had no way of paying the housemaid who had worked for her father, Lilyana ensured she stayed the nine months until the child’s birth, hiding knives from the expecting mother and restraining her hands when she desperately clawed at her body until the skin was nearly gone. For months Lilyana held her breath, praying that her sister might be stabilized and the child would survive. 

And against all odds, her prayers were answered. 

The midwife said the birth went by with relative ease. The mother and child both handled the process exceptionally well. The only oddity was when she asked the mother for a name. Sabina had only sneered. “Call it what you will. It makes no difference to me.”

For the sake of simplicity, the midwife had given the child a placeholder name of sorts, at least until her mother came to her senses. She’d call her Zoya, just until Sabina saw fit to name the girl herself. 

She never did. 

So perhaps if it had been Zoya’s mother who fell ill, she wouldn’t have agreed to the witch’s terms. She couldn’t have cared less for her absentee mother, but when a letter reached Os Alta it brought news of the closest thing to family she’d ever had. 

Her young cousin, Lada, had written of her mother’s condition-- Lilyana had grown feverish and weak. The town’s medics estimated she had two weeks to live.

Desperation had a strange way of sending people deep into the woods where good, honest people lost their morals somewhere in the darkness. It had a way of turning skeptics into the arms of witches. But when it came to saving Lilyana’s life, nothing was too high a cost. Kill the prince. Carve out his heart and leave his body bleeding on the floor. Zoya wasn’t a killer, but a few towns away one of the few good people left in the world was dying. Zoya would have given her soul away a thousand times if Lilyana lived. 

The main square of town jittered with anticipation. The feeling filled Zoya’s chest, clamping down on her lungs and stealing away her breath. Gossip was sweet on the lips of housewives and young maidens, like the juice of an apple after taking a bite. Zoya was no fool; she knew what was on their minds. A few months earlier, the young prince Nikolai had proposed-- but not to a distant princess or nobleman's daughter. He’d given the ring to an orphan girl with no prospects or riches. Faces lit with hope and perhaps a bit of envy whenever they spoke of the prince’s fiance. She’d been from a town just carriage rides away from Os Alta. It could have been any of them. But yesterday, news had come that the girl had left Os Alta for good, leaving the promises of riches and romance behind her. Not a single person could figure out why. 

She’d been given a shot at a storybook ending. Zoya wasn’t gullible enough to believe her life would have been perfect, but when she thought of what her own future held, even she couldn’t help a pang of irritation. She would have taken wealth in a heartbeat over her fate. She shifted the basket she carried up onto her shoulder, the weight of it exhausting her arm at a rapid pace. With her other hand she lifted her skirts in a futile attempt to keep the mud from seeping into the fabric as it dragged along the ground. As she walked she overheard elated conversations.

“They say she was beautiful-- hair like starlight and a smile like the sun. It’s surreal, honestly, that some everyday girl won over a prince. She must be quite something,” said a girl she’d met only in passing, to a young blonde woman at the baker’s stand. Then, with a cheeky smile, added, “Maybe I'll find myself a princess soon with my winning looks.” 

Across the way a middle aged woman shared her own thoughts on the matter with her daughter. “Perhaps if you spent less time fooling around that could have been us! We’d have been rich, you idiotic girl!—”

Despite herself, Zoya felt a familiar chill go down her back.

Tiny people, wrapped up in their tiny lives, bound to accomplish tiny things. For perhaps the first time ever Zoya envied them. At the end of the city’s main road, after dozens of wooden merchant stands and civilians homes, were the woods. Travel in Ravka was unavoidable, but most families stuck within the cities borders as much as possible. The forests on the outskirts of town were places of darkness and witchcraft beyond the understanding of the standard civilian. However, there were ways to make navigating the woods less dangerous. Old wives tales said to carry black tea leaves in one’s left shoe or bury a lock of hair in the dirt before beginning your journey. Most nonbelievers opted for a professional guide. 

Zoya had no guide as she found her way between the brush and trees, though, nor was her shoe supplied with tea leaves. Her travels through the woods were not a situation of point A to point B. 

Zoya intended to find a witch. 

An hour in, Zoya had acquired a multitude of new cuts up her arms from low hanging branches and nearly destroyed what was left of her skirt by snagging it on thorn coated weeds. She’d also come across at least fifteen new types of bug she’d never seen before and honestly could have gone her whole life without. Zoya had learned to hold her own against all sorts of dangers growing up in Pachina, but that didn’t make her any less disgusted by the grimes and grudge of the Ravkan forest. 

She dragged onwards, a cool sweat gathering on her forehead and regrets filling her mind. Of course— hundreds of people go missing every year without any explanation and yet the one time she goes looking for trouble the death forest decides to be a normal lot of trees. Typical. 

“Don’t know how to handle someone who doesn’t fear you? Is that it?” She called out to no one in particular. “I didn’t realize witches were such cowards.”

Or perhaps she was just a stupid child, looking for magic where it didn’t exist. Perhaps those people had simply been mauled and eaten by bears and she was the idiot trying to be the next. 

The sun passed over the sky as she became more and more hopelessly lost in a forest where she seemed to be the only inhabitant. Honestly, witches had no respect for willing customers these days. She only realized just how much time had passed when dusk began to fall. Night was coming, and she had no idea how to get back to the city. It was one thing to be in the forest during the light of day, but trapped in the darkness with no food or water was something else entirely. 

The moon shone a sickening white glare onto the black dirt floor, seeming to take all the pigment from her skin. Zoya hadn’t been afraid of the dark for many years, but there was something… off about the way the darkness felt here, as if it was alive and feeding on any sort of life. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tensed, waiting for something horrible but not knowing what. 

She stood, frozen, listening for any sound other than her own shallow breathing. But nothing moved, not even tree branches in the wind. She was alone. 

Which made it all the more terrifying when someone spoke. 

“What could possibly bring a lone girl to the woods at night?” said a molasses smooth voice from behind her. 

Zoya spun around and was greeted by a pale faced man with dark hair who was far too close for her to not have noticed his approach. Every instinct in her mind screamed to back up, but she forced her legs to stay in place. She would not be intimidated. She met the man’s void black eyes with a fearsome stare. “I’m searching for a witch with the kind of magic to help me,” she stated, voice like steel. “Tell me, would you fit that description?”

A sly smile curled across his face and sent a chill down her spine.

 “That depends,” he crooned, “what can you offer me in return, Zoya Nazyalensky of Pachina?”

Zoya felt a certain sort of dread sink into her chest. There was something wrong with this man-- he knew things he shouldn’t. She should have been afraid, but a morbid part of her was drawn to it. 

She wondered, despite herself, what would it be like to be him? She’d never feel small with a power like that at her disposal. She’d never be made a fool of. For a moment, the swell of her envy almost overpowered her reason, but then she thought of Lilyana. She was not here to find a way to be rid of her own weaknesses. Zoya shook the initial fog of his presence from her mind and reminded herself that for once, she would not be selfish. 

“What is it you want?” she retorted.

His smile did not falter as he considered. He slipped past her, like an ink spill with legs, so that she had to turn to keep sight of his face. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he walked away from her, but just as she was about to call out for him to stop he paused and glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked. “Are you coming?”

Her mind was empty of a response, perhaps still caught up on the absurdity of what she was doing. Her legs, thankfully, had instincts of their own and carried her forward when he began walking again so she didn’t lose sight of him in the darkness. He led her through the trees, as if he was navigating a maze for which only he had the map. As lost as she’d already felt, it was nothing compared to the lack of an internal compass she had now. The forest had consumed her completely. 

This was insane. Her mind ran rampant with possibilities as the silence between them grew longer. She’d be murdered by this demon of the woods and no one would even hear her scream as he dismembered her. She should run while she still had the chance. 

Except, if she ran Liliyana died. 

So, she kept walking. They entered a clearing of land. At the center of the plot was a looming mansion of black stone and though Zoya was no expert on the woods, she had spent the day wandering its depths and knew for certain the building had not been there before. This man’s magic was dark, but it was also powerful-- she needed powerful. The dark haired man led her to the tall doorway of the structure and held open the wooden door. “We can discuss terms inside.”

She hesitated for just a beat. This could very well be the room in which he planned to butcher her and bake her liver into a pie. She considered this man she knew nothing about and what he was offering. If there was even the smallest chance he could help her, she had to take it. 

There was no going back. She stepped through the door frame and into the home of a witch.

Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She remembered the tale of witches with homes of candy to lure in naive children. She had thought she’d see cages filled with starving creatures and cobweb covered jars holding various gruesome substances. She had thought there would be a cauldron to brew potions that would cure dying aunts. To her surprise, though, there was nothing of the sort. The floors were a sleek black tile and the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the brim with titles in languages she didn’t understand. Golden lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm light onto the sleek table in the center of the room filled with well kept paper and an ink well. Tapestries of the night sky made with painstaking care hung as the rooms most prominent decor. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wandered into the home of one of Ravka’s most wealthy nobles. 

She swung around to face the man, who had been observing her carefully since her first step into the room. “First things first, who exactly are you?” She asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Names are a powerful thing, Zoya,” he answered as he walked towards the desk at the center of the room. Something about the way he moved reminded her of black silk. “For now, you can call me The Darkling.”

Her lips pulled together in a tight line and placed a hand on her hips. For a moment she considered calling him out on his pretentiousness-- what kind of title was “The Darkling”-- but she restrained herself. In the grand scheme of things his name hardly mattered, and angering him didn’t strike her as the best way to get what she wanted.

He took a seat at the desk and gestured to the chair directly across from him. Smoothing her skirt as she sat down, she felt almost like she was at a business meeting in the town square and not trying to make a blood deal. “I’ve heard that magic can do things science can’t. Buildings are created without any regard for physics and wounds that normally kill are healed in a split second,” she began, an authority in her voice that she hoped hid the fact there was no real power behind it. “My aunt is ill. The doctors say there’s nothing to be done, but that is the opinion of a medic, not a magician. Can you save her?”

A certain rage sparked within her when he didn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t have the time to waste on a man who could do nothing for her. She had already lost a day to the woods, and here he sat, unimpressed and hardly listening. Part of her wanted to get up and leave right then and there if he wasn’t going to give her request the dignity it deserved, but she stayed seated, waiting. 

He spoke then. “I can,” Zoya’s breath caught half way in her throat. Hope crawled into her lungs and left no room for breath, “but it will cost you.” 

“I don’t care,” she responded, not missing a beat. “I’ll trade my life for hers, just name the price.”

He wasn’t smiling, but Zoya could almost see the grin in his eyes and felt like she’d just walked into a hunter’s snare. “I know you’re afraid of me, Zoya,” he said, and though she wanted to insist that some stranger in the woods didn’t scare her, her words fell flat, “but I have known you for much longer than you believe. Your familiar with a blade, aren’t you?”

Zoya swallowed the lump rising in her throat and nodded. When she was young she’d studied swordplay when her mother was away. Soldiers left home to begin their training at fourteen in Ravka, and for a girl whose home had been anything but stable, it had been an appealing opportunity. The issue was, the army was for men only. She’d hoped they’d see her skill and immediately make an exception, but when she was finally old enough to enlist she’d been turned away at the gate. 

How this witch knew that was beyond her. “I believe we can help one another. For you, I will not only return your aunt to health, but also give you the chance to pursue your dream,” he continued. “All I ask in return is that you rid Ravka of what is standing in our way. The Lantsov line has held this country back far too long-- I plan to lead us into the future, and I’ll need a general by my side. The only thing you need to do is get rid of the old crook’s heir.”

Zoya could barely breathe. It was all too good to be true-- first he’d claimed he could help Liliyana and then he’d promised her what she’d dreamed of since childhood.  She would have taken the deal in a heartbeat if he wasn’t asking her to commit treason in return.

“Vasily,” she breathed, but he only shook his head. 

“He’s not nearly competent enough to be a concern. Talents like yours should be spent on a real threat. The king’s second born, Nikolai, is much more clever than his brother,” said the Darkling. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but my intentions are good. You, of all people, have seen the state of this nation-- the hardship it’s people face. You and I are very similar: ambitious, strong,  and intelligent. We can change things.”

She chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, weighing the pros and cons. Zoya was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer. 

At least, not yet. 

Her rejection from the army had allowed her to keep her hands blood free until now. It wasn’t that she had any compassion for the prince, but there was nothing noble about slaughtering an unknowing victim. The honor of serving her country and protecting her people against an enemy who would kill her if she didn’t end them first was vastly different than what he was asking her to do. 

In the end, the morality of the proposal didn’t matter. If it was one life to save another, Liliyana was more important. The only question was whether or not The Darkling had any credibility to his offer. It was true she barely knew him, but for the first time since she had first encountered him he seemed fully sincere. A tug in her gut told her he was right. She didn’t know if they were as similar as he claimed, but something deep inside her made her believe his love for Ravka was as real as her own. 

And if he was telling the truth about that, then he was probably true in his claim that he could heal her aunt, too. Or, at the very least, she had to believe it was true. She feared she would not be presented with another opportunity like this.

It was the best chance she had, even if it would make a killer out of her. She stared him down, taking in the room that had appeared from nothing. “I’ll do it.”

She could repent her sin later by aiding this man in his journey to lead Ravka into an age of prosperity. That was for later, though. For now, Zoya just needed a plan.

The Darkling smiled knowingly, but as far as she could tell it was not mocking. Looking away for only a moment, he pulled a quill from somewhere she couldn’t see and handed it to her. 

“Find your way into the castle and get close to the prince. Trust will make him foolish. If you need to contact me, use that quill. The ink will find its way back to me. When it is time to put the plan into motion I will contact you. Until then, keep your wits about you.”

“Wait--” she interrupted, afraid he’d simply dissipate after giving his orders. “How am I supposed to infiltrate the palace? They don’t just allow anyone inside.”

“Nikolai has been in need of a new Etherialki for a few weeks now,” he answered, unphased. She tried not to wonder what kind of spies he must already have under the Lantsovs’ noses to have that kind of information. “You will be filling the position.” 

The servants of the Lantsov family were divided into three orders: Coporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki. Coporalki had a tendency to remain in the palace. They were responsible for keeping the palace functioning properly and were trained in the art of medicine. Materialki was the class of any sort of specialist working within the Lantsov’s walls. From chefs, to tailors, to blacksmiths, each played their part in making up the artisans category. 

Etherealki were traveling companions to the royal family and whatever rich guest happened to be staying with them. They accompanied their charge from dawn till dusk, braving and complication of man or nature along the way.They were known to think on their feet to quickly amend any problem their employer might encounter. It was, without a doubt, the most fitting role for Zoya’s skill set.

 “What about my aunt? She might not last long enough for whatever you’re planning to be ready.”

“There’s no need to worry-- deliver your end of our agreement and I swear to you that your aunt will live.”

He extended a hand towards her and she examined him one last time. Growing up, she’d been told to never trust witches, and here she stood, going into business with one. If life had taught her anything, it was that the worst monsters aren’t always supernatural in nature. For all intents and purposes, the Darkling seemed to have good intentions. More than that, he had the power to save her aunt. 

From every angle, Zoya came out of this deal with what she wanted. 

She held his gaze and took his palm in a firm handshake before gathering her things and heading back into town.

[gkingoffez]

Words: 13,176

Summary: In the lead up to the Battle of Yavin, Bassa Lam finds herself torn between doing the right thing and keeping the person she loves most in the galaxy safe.

Notes: An outsiders perspective on the event on Yavin 4 during Rogue One and A New Hope, featuring my OCs Bassa Lam and Daze See. Written for the Star Wars Big Bang 2020!

AO3 | FFN.Net (coming soon) | Artist

Prologue: Overview

-

The fourth moon of Yavin, a quiet system in the Gordian Reach, was far from the Galactic core and even further from the minds of most sentient beings in the galaxy.

It was a jungle moon, not unlike the billions of other of its kind; habitable by most species, with an environment teeming with life and yet untouched by the industrial machine of galactic progress for the reason that there simply wasn’t enough valuable resources on it to turn any kind of profit.  For this reason, everyone from private industries to the Republic and later the Empire had never gone further beyond a basic survey- it was barely anything, a footnote on every known galactic map, just another entity orbiting one of the billions of stars of any given night sky.

Which, of course, was the very reason the Alliance To Restore The Republic had chosen it for Base One.

Zooming in through the atmosphere, the moon’s weather was generally humid and wet, the thick rainforest hoarding moisture that permeated the air through most hours of the day and snapped into an uncomfortable chill in the night.

The pyramid temple, one of many across the moon’s surface had been built and abandoned thousands of years ago by the Massani people, and was now a hub of buzzing life, a beating heart thumping with the footsteps of engineers, starfighters, droids and refugees from all across the galaxy. Ships of all shapes and sizes, from one-man fighters to industrial freighters, had graced the landing platforms, some with regularity and others that left to never return again.

If you asked the Empire, they were all there unlawfully, a hive of terrorists and traitors undermining the true authority. But the reality was that every resident of Base One was there for a reason- loss, vengeance, justice, duty or a thousand other prompts the Empire had forced upon them. They were a melting pot of ambition and talent boasting everything from Clone War veterans to Imperial defectors to even lowly farmers armed with blasters and kids barely old enough to fly who’d never known a free galaxy.

Every single  one of them, consciously or not, held hope in their hearts and minds- hope that they could actually make a difference; that the Emperor could be defeated and the Republic restored; that their planets and families could be liberated from tyranny and fear.

However, as time went by and the Alliance grew, so did the chance that the Empire would discover them. There were safety protocols in place, of course- early warning systems and monitored hyperspace lanes and carefully planned evacuation procedures- but the bare truth was that no amount of hope, optimism or shielding would keep them safe.

It was in the back of everyone’s minds, conscious or not: that the Empire would come too quickly and too powerfully and Yavin IV could turn from a sanctuary of hope to a bloody tomb in an instant.

~

Follow the links above for the rest of the fic!

I am beyond excited to announce that I’ve finally written a proper fic for my beautiful Star Wars daughters, Bassa and Daze! I’ve had this story in mind for literal years, and as stories like these rarely go beyond the walls of my brain, I decided to kick myself into actually writing one out. The Star Wars Big Bang gave me a deadline and actual stakes, and after some months of fretting and procrastination, it’s finally up!

Please please please, if you are at all interested in learning more about my OCs or their story as whole, DM me because I have so much to share and it would mean so much to me if someone else showed interest in my babies.

[tackytigerfic]

Creator Tag Meme!

Thank you to all the lovely people who tagged me in this - I love these things and have enjoyed reading all of yours @keyflight790 @writcraft @diligent-thunder @quicksilvermaid @tedahfromtayla @hptruefan-cheekytorah @big-draco-energy !

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2019. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Right. Well, I’m  being quite unIrish doing this (although never fear, I can always hear the Irish mammy in my head saying, look at yer wan, shur she’s no better than she should be), but I am pretty proud of my first year of writing. Here are my own favourite bits from 2019.

1. I Was Brave

You all probably feel the same - writing stuff and putting it out for public consumption can be hard. I’m very private about my inner life, and publishing fic feels a bit like stripping those layers of reserve back and just parading around naked and flayed and asking people to like me anyway (just me??). So sharing my writing at all was a big deal. But I did it, and I took part in fests, and I even VERY bravely wrote a piece to go along with one of my favourite pieces by @fictional (the smoking Drarry art which is utterly perfect and which can be found here!). 

Because that’s intimidating - taking something which is glorious, and piping up and saying, oh hey - here’s my take on it. I mean luckily Lynn is an angel and was very kind about it! And in fact that’s probably my favourite piece of my own writing, so I’m glad I took the leap with it.

2. I Practiced

Sloppy perfectionist - usually if I’m not brilliant at something instantly, I stop and never do it again (hobbies include reading and watching Netflix). With writing, I’ve been slogging away at it almost every day, since last February, writing furiously on my phone until I gave myself RSI (yes I did that), stealing odd moments here and there to just get more words down. And I tried different formats, and themes, and POVs, just to stretch myself a bit. I have never committed to anything like I have with this hobby, and it’s been a revelation (not hyperbole! Really!).

The Drabble Challenge on the Drarry Discord is great for practice, I think - there’s a real skill in refining a story right down into a handful of words, and it’s a good exercise in brevity too! Here’s a link to all my drabbles on AO3 if you fancy it!

3. I Pushed Myself

I wrote 55k for Erised this year, people, for A Lick and a Promise. That would have been inconceivable to past me. And where all my other fics came to me quite easily, this one was hard to write. I lost all perspective on it and had no idea if it was any good at all by the time I submitted it. In fact, I had to take some time over Christmas to just sit down and read it. And because I write the fics I want to read myself, I had put in lots of stuff that I love, like sentient Hogwarts, and Auror shenanigans, and Professor Drarry (including Draco in fancy robes that get Harry all hot and bothered), and magical theory, and a sexy vampire, and bathtime fun. And it turns out that I am really happy with that fic, and I do love it - and it’s probably the work I’m most proud of, actually. Do please read it if you like, as comments and kudos are meat and drink to me and I hoard them like a greedy praise dragon. It’s here!

4. I Learned My Process

I used to think I needed to be more organised, be more proactive about planning, be more rigorous with my time and energy, be stricter about my schedule. Over the year I learned - with the help of my very wise and supportive friends - that I am a true pantser, and that pantser is as pantser does. I trust my own intuition about what works for me. I ignore all writing advice. I give myself a fucking break when I need it. I now know how I work best, and what is the most efficient and suitable way for me to actually get the bloody words out, and that’s invaluable.

Here’s And One To Play, which I wrote by the seat of my pants and had no idea what was going to happen scene by scene, and people seemed to like this one (Auror partners! Magical theory! Wild magic!)

5. I Was Robust

Self-belief! Self-worth! Self-confidence! All of those things can be hard to maintain, especially in such a draining creative pursuit. We’re not writing in a vacuum after all, and I think most of us who post publicly do so because we want people to read and like our work. This year I realised that I have a strong sense of the worth of my work - that I believe it’s good, even if people don’t read it, or like it. Very reassuring to know that I have at least one fan! 

Here’s a link to Catch Midnight, a little short fic that I really love but that didn’t seem to get as many readers as some of my other pieces. (This robust sense of self was brought to you by Irish Contrariness! And a Supportive Network of Incredible Friends!)

So that’s me done! I think loads of you have already done this but I’ll tag @buildyourwalls @cibeewastaken @dualwieldteacup @fictional @lemonbuncake @maesterchill @prolix- @shealwaysreads @zigster-ao3 if you fancy it! And if anyone else wants a go then please tag me - I always love reading these.

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: The Secret Journal of 'Stanford' Pines

Size: ~3000 words AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864183

Stan Pines keeps a journal of brief daily notes during the summer of 2012.

Note: We all know that the Gravity Falls timeline makes no sense whatsoever. Therefore this is based on a headcanon timeline I made a year or so ago, trying to incorporate as many of the canon dates (in show and published J3) as possible, but ignoring the ones that were contradictory or made no sense. This still means some episodes did not happen in a strictly chronological order.

June 1

Kids are here. I have no idea what to do. Why did I agree to this.

Boy is a grump and girl made macaroni art in the kitchen. Did I even have macaroni?

 June 2 Sunday

I think boy got spooked in the forest. He seems fine, though. Good taste in gold chains.

Girl is now dating some punk kid.

 June 3

Kids looked like they’d been run over by the golf cart when they got back tonight. Not good.

Gave them some free gifts from the shop to cheer em up. Yes I know

Boy got a new hat. Should get him to wear a Mystery Shack shirt next. Girl found a grappling hook that was not in my inventory. Bold choice.

What would they say if they knew about me?

June 4

Fishing Season Opening Day – took the kids fishing.

Of course, they got excited about monster hunting instead. They’re listening to reason about as well as I and Fo did as a kid.

But. They came back to me in the end. We had fun.

I love those kids.

 June 5

Soos found those cursed old wax statues I sealed up some ten years ago. Don’t seem all that cursed now. One had melted.

Mabel’s gonna make a new one for the wax museum. Meaning I’ll have to figure out how to make suckers pay to look at wax statues again.

 June 6

Mabel’s wax creation nearly gave me a heart attack. It looks just like my twin me.

She’s crazy talented.

 June 7

I’d say the wax museum reopening went well. Assuming “well” means “profit”.

Did anyone actually think I’d hand out free pizza?

 June 8

Hanging out with my wax twin Stan, and the moment I turned my back he was murdered.

 June 9 Sunday

Tried to hold a funeral for Wax Stan. Failed to keep it tounge-in-cheek.

Face it, Ford is long gone

 June 10

Guess the wax people were still as cursed as I remembered. Kids killed them with fire – I should have done that long ago.

Dipper crawled in the vents all day looking for a wax head that got away.

If I keep telling him he’s delusional, he’s got to stop looking for trouble eventually, right?

 June 11

Mabel decided I should date Lazy Susan. Couldn’t stop her. Now Susan and her cats keep calling me.

This was a bad idea. (I will never tell Mabel that.)

 June 12

Went on a date with Lazy Susan to shut her up. That ended just as well as expected.

Need to figure out some more specific excuses.

 June 13

The worst thing is, the Portal should work now. It’s functional. I just can’t get it to start.

Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all along

I did fix that old copier. Don’t know if it still makes copies of people, but at least it makes copies of paper again.

Caught Dipper making oogly eyes at Wendy. I smell drama.

 June 14

Did not expect “The Duchess Approves” to be that good.

 June 15

The traditional Mystery Shack party that has nothing to do with any birthdays.

Mabel is a great singer, and that Northwest brat cheated.

Happy birthday, Sixer.

 June 16 Sunday

Gideon Gleeful’s running TV ads again.

Of course my family goes to his show just to spite me.

 June 17

Mabel played with Gideon today. Did not see that one coming.

As long as she’s happy, I guess.

 June 18

I hate Pioneer Day.

Stupid people acting even stupider than normal, nothing works, then someone (me) ends up in the stocks.

 June 19

Gideon and Mabel are dating!?

Seemed like a horrible idea, but Bud Gleeful has a point on the moneymaking opportunities if we play it right.

 June 20

So if Mabel marries Gideon, his business will be incorporated into mine. I sure like the sound of that.

Bud is already making t-shirts.

 June 21

 June 22

OK, no. No deals with the Gleefuls. Not now or ever.

Mabel broke up with the little pest. Good riddance.

Got me a nice painting from Bud’s house, though.

 June 23 Sunday

The Mystery Fair! It may look cheap, but it brings in the money.

Though someone broke all safety protocols and brought a futuristic laser gun to Dunkle the Grunkle. That’s unfair.

Mabel has a pig now.

 June 24

Got roped into the gaming arcade with the kids.

Maybe get one of those games for the Shack?

 June 25

Mabel decided to fix my fear of heights.

I can say this – being on top of a water tower about to fall over was unpleasant. Compared to that, a high but stable ground isn’t so bad.

Dipper got into a fistfight with Wendy’s boyfriend over teenage drama, but good on him for standing up for himself.

 June 26

For some reason Gideon has gotten it into himself that he wants the Mystery Shack now.

Good luck, kid. I’m a better conman than you’ll ever be.

 June 27

Mabel is slightly taller than Dipper. This is funny.

Gideon Gleeful trying to be threatening while throwing a hysterical fit after breaking my new mirror maze – mostly confusing. Wish I knew what went on in that kid’s head.

 June 28

Kids made me wear the golden teeth. Guess they think I’m a dishonest man.

Fortunately, I’m good at bullshitting even when telling the truth. Think I scandalized the poor things. Hilarious.

Could have been disaster, though. Could have easily made them hate me.

 June 29

Spent half the day falling down the Bottomless Pit.

 June 30 Sunday

Summerween, now that’s a respectable local holiday.

Scaring children for fun and profit. Celebrating true evil together with family.

 July 1

Hottest day of the year. Wax Stan was permanently murdered by the weather.

Closed the Shack and went to the municipal pool with the kids.

Gideon stole my perfect pool chair. It’s on.

 July 2

Broke into the pool area at night to get the chair to myself. Which was a good plan, until I wanted to get up later in the day. The pest had coated it with glue.

The kids broke into the pool at night, too. Didn’t ask.

 July 3

Opened the Shack again.

Can’t be too lazy. Tourists to fleece and all that.

 July 4

 July 5

Mabel bet she could run the Shack better than I can. Well. I’m nothing if not a gambler.

So, three days of vacation, in which I will make more money than she will make running the Shack. Winner takes the Shack, loser sings a silly song.

Best case scenario, she learns something about business and stops complaining. Worst case, she actually makes money and then runs the Shack for me the rest of the summer. Not bad.

 July 6

Made it past the line to be a contestant on Cash Wheel, using my Old Man powers and lack of common decency.

Why is it so hard to sleep

 July 7 Sunday

Well. I lost at Cash Wheel.

Guess that means I lost the bet with Mabel, too. Unless I go rob a bank or something in the time I have left. Hm.

 July 8

Turns out Mabel barely broke even when running the Shack. She did win the bet, but she didn’t want my job, no surprise there.

I’m proud of her for learning something.

She still made me sing that song. On video tape. It’s kinda catchy.

 July 9

Mabel’s friends came for a sleepover. They make a lot of noice.

 July 10

Soos managed to uncover the door to Ford’s that old study I sealed thirty years ago the very moment the kids demanded separate bedrooms.

I never wanted to see that room again. His glasses were still there

Guess they didn’t want the room in the end, but now it’s open. Can’t re-seal it.

I think they messed around with the freaky carpet. Took it away at the end of the day just in case.

 July 11

I fucked up, but I fixed it.

I got Mabel’s pig back, even when I had to punch a pterodactyl in the face for it.

She doesn’t hate me.

I love that kid so much.

 July 12

That weird egg I pocketed from the dino-cave hatched. Dipper says it’s a compo-whatnot.

I call him Compy. He’s now my Mystery Pet.

 July 13

Soos’ birthday. The kids tried to throw a party, which is. Bad idea.

Think he appreciated laser tag, though. And the magic pizza they got him. Never seen him so happy on a birthday.

 July 14 Sunday

Turns out Compy is a very tiny dragon. Hoards stuff, mostly cash. In places I can’t reach.

It’s no good. Gonna hand the chicken-lizard over to farmer Sprott first thing in the morning before he bankrupts me.

 July 15

Mabel and her friends went to some boy band concert. Got back late with a large pack of spoils. Probably robbed someone.

Wendy’s boyfriend is charming her with homemade music. Dipper suspects magic. Can’t rule that out.

 July 16

There was a hypnotic message in the music, but telling Wendy about it only made the teenage drama worse.

Went bowling with Dipper afterwards to cheer him up. Should have a chat with Wendy, too.

 July 17

Gideon   I’m   How could

Didn’t know Gideon was that serious.

As if half-lucid dreams about that yellow triangle wasn’t bad enough. (The kids know something. Not asking. I want them to stay away from that stuff.)

We’re staying with Soos as I panic figure out how to fix this.

 July 18

I can’t fix this.

Gideon’s got the whole town eating out of his hand and I’m just a grouchy old man.

Doing the responsible thing. Got bus tickets to send the kids home tomorrow.

Whatever I do next, don’t want them to watch.

 July 19

GIDEON IS A LITTLE SHIT AND I AM AWESOME.

Figured out his trick, proved it in public and now he’s in jail.

Got the Shack back. Got the kids back.

And. Get this. Gideon had one of Ford’s missing journals. I have it now.

 July 20

I can’t believe it. Dipper. Had the third journal all summer.

All three of the dumb books are right here in front of me.

I activated the Portal. Simple as anything.

It’s scanning for Ford right now.

I’m actually bringing him back.

 July 21 Sunday

Grand reopening of the Mystery Shack turned into a zombie-fest.

Kids could’ve died because I was too busy with the Portal to pay attention. That won’t happen again.

Should have talked to them about weirdness sooner. Hope they believed me when I said I have no more secrets.

A little worried that government might have picked up signals from the Portal.

 July 22

Repairing the Shack. Too much undead slime to attract tourists like this.

 July 23

Re-reopened the Shack.

Dipper got himself an old laptop computer from somewhere. Probably stolen. He tried to hide it.

 July 24

Went minigolfing with the kids.

Mabel challenged Pacifica Northwest to a duel at midnight. I’m so proud of her.

Letting kids into minigolf courts at night to take a rich snob down a few pegs – finally putting my skills to good use.

 July 25

I still can’t believe the Portal works.

It keeps scanning.

 July 26

Tried to bring old Goldie back to the gift shop but apparently he’s unhip and scary. Had to throw him away before the parents sued me.

What I do need is a singing animatronic robot badger. That’s what kids like these days.

 July 27

Soos missed work for the first time ever. Seems to be girl trouble, but the kids are handling it.

Would’ve stolen myself a robot badger if it hadn’t tried to kill me. Saved by old Goldie. No way I’m not keeping him now.

 July 28 Sunday

Went for a Vegas vacation because I deserve it.

Not because I’m nervous.

Brought Goldie, might have gotten slightly drunk. And slightly married.

 July 29

Mabel found herself a new obsession with hand puppets.

She’ll throw a big show on Friday. Made me rent Gravity Falls theatre for her. (Can’t believe I did that.)

 July 30

The Shack is full of sock puppets and kids and Mabel keeps singing.

Guess this is my life now.

 July 31

 August 1

Soos went to his cousin’s wedding with his new girlfriend. Good on him.

Mabel’s still obsessing about puppets.

Dipper looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Can’t blame him with all this ruckus.

 August 2

Play was good! Think it paid for the costs, too. Mabel’s got showmanship.

Don’t get the ending, though.

I mean. Children fighting always makes for good footage, but was it necessary to beat Dipper up that bad? I swear Mabel don’t know how strong she is.

A little worried about Dipper. He seemed high as a kite all day. Probably sleep deprivation. At least he’s sleeping now.

 August 3

 August 4 Sunday

Gravity’s going more crazy around the Portal the longer it’s on, but I don’t care.

It hasn’t found Ford yet.

It won’t find him if he’s dead

 August 5

The Portal ate my notebook.

Got a nasty cut on the back of my hand from some debris, too. Could have been worse.

 August 6

Tried to advertise the Mystery Shack for the kids at the Woodstick Festival. Hilarious disaster.

Being feared is worth more than being loved anyway.

 August 7

 August 8

IT FOUND HIM.

He’s alive. There’s a lock on his position.

Fuck I don’t  I have to

I know how it works. It needs to calibrate for a while. It needs to be fueled for the big moment.

I’ll go rob a government facility right now.

(So glad the kids are off at the Northwest party tonight.)

27 hours and then I’ll see him again.

 August 9

Ford is back.

I had to run from the feds and the kids found out everything the wrong way but it worked and he’s back.

But he doesn’t  He still hates me.  

Why would I expect anything else.

Don’t know what I’d do with myself if the kids weren’t here.

It’s fine. I fucked up everything, but. Mabel trusts me. Dipper forgives me. I’m fine.

not crying

 August 10 Sunday

The Shack needs repairs again.

Spent most of the day making Duck-tective finale preparations with Mabel. We had fun.

Told the kids to stay away from Ford.

 August 11

Dipper has predictably decided to be nerd friends with my brother.

Can’t stop him. He looks happy. Both of them do.

Still can’t figure out why Ford would have reality altering dice lying around in his sci-fi pouch.

Anyway. I knew Duck-tective had an evil twin.

 August 12

I hate everything.

Ford will take my his place here soon enough, does he have to undercut me while I’m still here?

I’m running for mayor now.

 August 13

Kids are helping me with a political campaign. Apparently I know nothing about politics and have unpalatable opinions. Bah.

 August 14

The Stump Speech went great! I relax, words happen, people cheer.

Dipper got a lucky tie for me. Think it really works.

 August 15

Should’ve tried being a politician before. Almost feels like people like me.

 August 16

Nope. Politics is not for me. Too much mind control.

Should’ve known it wasn’t me making those speeches.

(The kids shouldn’t get into politics either. Can’t always be there to save them from murder.)

Turns out I’m not mayor material, but I’m a HERO.

Take that, Ford.

 August 17

Rented an RV and took Soos and the kids and Mabel’s friends on a road trip.

Pranking the tourist traps. Good old Mystery Shack tradition for the last time.

Dipper’s practising flirting like a pro.

 August 18 Sunday

Almost got eaten by a spider-woman. That could have gone better.

Have to admit, the kids are heroes too.

Don’t think Ford noticed we were gone.

 August 19

Opened the Mystery Shack for the final stretch.

Two more weeks, then I’m gone for good.

 August 20

Made a good deal on illegal pugs. Still got it.

Ford and Dipper put some magic mojo on the Shack. Not gonna ask.

Might have something to do with how badly Ford is sleeping.

 August 21

Ten days left until the kids’s birthday and the end of summer.

Guess I’m doing a countdown now.

 August 22

Nine days left.

 August 23

Eight days left.

I’m gonna order a ponytail kit.

 August 24

HELL NO I DON’T NEED THIS.

It’s the literal end of the world and the kids are missing.

Suddenly orange skies, goats turning into monsters, the whole shebang. I thought I had enough troubles.

That magic on the Shack seems to be protecting it, but. THE KIDS ARE MISSING. So is Ford.

 ??? 1

Day and night are replaced by eternal glowing orange and every single clock is busted, so no more dates.

Went out looking for the kids, but all I find is other people. Also demons. No sign of Soos or Wendy, either.

Been taking people to the Shack. Safest place on Earth for all I know. I have enough brown meat and elected myself Chief.

The kids are fine. Probably with Ford. That’s the ticket.

 ??? 2

Went out looking again. Found the Northwest girl dressed in nothing but a potato sack. She was crying and I don’t want to know, but she didn’t deserve it.

Been told the head honcho is the yellow triangle. He calls this Weirdmageddon.

Old McGucket showed up more coherent than usual, herding a whole flock of forest creatures into the Shack. Starting to get crowded here.

The kids are fine. Of course they are.

 ??? 3

There’s still people alive out there. I heard cars over at Gleeful’s place.

Didn’t see anyone else.

I’ve lost  I couldn’t even

Mabel and Dipper are definitely still alive. So is Soos and Wendy. And Ford better be.

 ??? 4

They’re alive!

All four of my kids, bursting through the door like cops doing a raid but they’re alive!

Now all I want is for them to stay here and be safe. Why can’t they see that?

I’m done saving my brother’s skin and getting nothing but scorn for it.

Ford made his own bed with that demon. Forget it.

 ??? 5

Did I mention, the plan concocted by five kids, Soos, and a known madman is utterly insane?

They’re rebuilding the Shack. I just had it repaired, too.

It’s my house, but no one’s listening to me.

 ??? 6

I keep having this bad feeling about Ford.

It’s dumb. My brother has made it perfectly clear how he feels about being saved.

 ??? 7

Well then.

Not letting the kids lead an apocalypse rebellion against a demonic triangle without me.

 August 25 Sunday

 August 26

 August 27

 August 28

Huh. I can’t remember writing this, but it does ring a few bells.

It’s like I

I need to talk to Ford.

 August 29

So. The apocalypse is over, and we’re all fine.

We killed the demon by burning my mind out when he was inside, pretty much.

My mind’s still there, but it’s kinda. Well. In need of repair.

Spent a few days reliving good memories.

Turns out there’s more than a few bad ones, too. But.

Everyone is so good to me

I don’t deserve this

 August 30

I remember how Ford looked at me after I brought him back.

Now he acts like  he likes to   he thinks I’m

Now it’s like he’s my brother again.

He said. “Thank you.”

 August 31

The kids have left. I’ll miss them, but I’ll see them again.

Until then, my brother and I are going sailing.

[peepingtoad]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / 50-50 (There’s a lot of love and a lot of hate, but I think many are actually pretty neutral on him too!)

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / 50-50 (I’d say he may be an... acquired taste? Of course a lot of people I know here find him sexie so it’s hard to say for certain, heh. We may just be the weirdos of the fandom :P )

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO

Are they underrated?  YES / NO (Not in terms of ability, but underrated for just how complex and multi-layered he is, I’d say)

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (I honestly think he’s a man of many reputations, both in canon and in fandom :’D)

How strictly do you follow canon?  —  I’m very much a ‘use the bones of what we got in canon and do my best to flesh them out’ kinda roleplayer. There are some things that can be taken too easily at face value that I see fit to build upon. For example, I think Jiraiya’s feelings on the prophecy and his relationship with Konoha is something that could be too easily played off as simplistic, or like they were immovable constants. But that’s unrealistic for a man of his years and many experiences, so I try to put myself in his emotional setting at various points in his life, and trace how his feelings and behaviours change, if that makes sense? 

I try to avoid saying that any of the writing was straight up wrong because it’s disrespectful to the creator. But especially for Jiraiya, who had such a significant role to play in the narrative that it sometimes took precedence over his actual character, I do find some of his actions, and the way some interactions were handled in the canon to be a little OOC... so I’ll work with it and try to spin it in a way that I feel fits how he was characterised.

Basically, I’d say that I follow canon, but I like to enrich it in areas that were lacking detail or a nuanced view that took in all the surrounding events of the time. After Jiraiya’s canon death, of course, that’s when more divergence comes in to my portrayal... otherwise I wouldn’t be able to play any post-war scenarios! But the essence of his character is the same, which I try to keep as close to canon as possible.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.   —  A man of many experiences! You can bet that any topic that comes up, he’ll have some sort of amusing anecdote to share, or be able simply to talk shit about it. He's seen so much, and has a sensitive soul enough that he’ll give anyone a chance; he’s very open-minded and non-judgemental, and honestly is a humanitarian that wants to help those in need. Might leave your muse a little baffled as to how he could hold the status of ‘legend’, only to show it when they least expect it. You never quite know what you’re going to get with him: he’s generous and selfless, yet has many vices that seem selfish at times; he’s both a lover and a fearsome fighter; he’s immensely resilient at the same time as incredibly vulerable and damaged; he’s a himbo and a bit of a jock with the soul of a poet. Love him with no restraint and invite his love in return, and you’ll get not only a lover, but a devotee. Wears his heart on his sleeve... or does he? Chip away at him and find out!

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  The pervy, flirty, jokey schtick could get grating, or come across as disingenuous. In romantic situations, he’ll keep quiet about putting a label on whatever it is, and beneath his overall sweetness and devotion there may be an underlying reek of commitment issues and a fear of admitting he is afraid. He also has a habit of deflecting negativity in general, and playing things off as if they don’t matter or they’re a joke, making him actually rather a difficult person to get to know the heart of. One might feel as if they’re getting nowhere with him...

... Either that, or they get the complete opposite. Yes, as equally as he can be guarded, he can overshare like crazy, and has a tendency to become codependent with those he gets attached to, which is inconsistent with his free-spirited nature, and how adept he is at keeping others at arm’s length from his less sunny side. This inconsistency might make him seem unreliable—if the fact he’s always off who-knows-where doesn’t do the trick already.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  I’ve been a big fan of the Sannin ever since I first read the Deadlock, but being a very young person at the time I perhaps couldn’t relate enough to people who had experienced so much to do them justice in my teenage fic-writing endeavours, so I remained on the sidelines enjoying content by other people (there may also have been a little bit of ‘what the fuck, why do I dig the old dude so much’ denial in there haha). I’ve picked up and dropped my obsession with the series several times over the years, and my love for those three seemed to grow each time. They really are ‘the lost generation’, and as the sole survivors—alongside having a huge impact on the plot, how the shinobi world is shaped, and the three main protagonists—there’s a lot of juicy material there, a lot of emotional background, along with decades of history that basically goes untapped in the canon. 

Anyway, I digress. Coming to the Naruto RPC for the first time around this time 2 years ago at the age of 25, I made this blog and my Deidara one on a whim, but focused on the latter at first. Villains were always comfortable territory for me in my other RP experiences, and I think it made me doubt that I could possibly do someone who is frankly a lovely guy any justice, no matter how much I loved him. I even had the intention of making him fully Akatsuki/Missing-Nin AU at first. Yeah. That’s how stuck in my villain/anti-hero zone I was! But, I think in the end, the fact he actually isn’t a two-dimensional typical ‘hero’ was something I chewed over and realised would be incredibly enriching to write, worth stepping out of my comfort zone for. And being a little more mature and less angst-ridden myself by that point, I found I could resonate with his feelings and ideals in a way that I know I couldn’t have as a teen... but I was still tentative. 

Anyway, after leaving his blog empty for a bit (with its placeholder URL ‘frogdaddy’, which sadly got hoarded by someone else), I cosplayed the old bastard, along with my partner as Orochimaru. We’d been stanning that particular ship and talking about how great the Sannin are in general for quite some time by that point, but being casually in character for fun while drunk off my tits at a boat party, was a bit of an epiphanic moment. Not long after that, I threw myself right into writing this chaotic-good old bastard with gusto, and here I still am :’)

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  Taking breaks to recharge as and when I need to. Seriously. The death of all my other blogs has been pressure (mostly from myself) to be there and force myself to put out regular content, so I went into this not thinking that way and it’s really helped! 

Of course, there’s also the fact that there simply seems to be no shortage of areas I can delve into with this guy. Again, it’s his age and all the missing years in canon... but I think it’s also how much love he has and his genuine eagerness to engage with others that makes him one of the most naturally bountiful muses I’ve played. Because honestly? Most of my villain muses wanted people to just fuck off :’D this guy is open to everything.

That aside, I guess I just gel with him more than I ever expected to. I’ve changed a lot as a person and gained more confidence since various areas of my life got better, and I really just vibed with this chill, funny, romantic, pervy, big-hearted energy. I enjoy angst, but my real love is peppering the serious and heartbreaking with romance and comedy—and isn’t that just befitting of him? Writing through his eyes also helps to keep my outlook positive, so that keeps me stuck on him as much as the seemingly limitless content potential. 

And this is without even going into my cross-fandom AU ideas I have on the back-burner. Honestly, they’re there but I want to put a real effort into them while keeping his essence the same, which for some, involves brushing up on my lore!

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO / RARELY. (depends on whether I get a flash of inspiration—which mostly comes with random asks that happen to stir up an idea for a scene, such as this one (NSFW warning))

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / 50-50 /NO. (I tend not to take things personally but am also very passionate—call it my innate Leo-ness!)

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  Hmmm. I haven’t actually had any critique on my portrayal, so I’m not sure haha! I’d say if it’s constructive, then I’ll take it into account and consider it, especially if it’s a case where it helps me realise I’ve perhaps not gotten across what I intended to very well. But I’m also quite fond of my portrayal in its essence, so I may end up just thanking the person for their opinion and carry on as usual :P

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  Absolutely! I’ve had some wonderful ones recently and it’s exactly the kick I need to get ideas out, some of which I’ve had on the back-burner but not had a framework within which to write it without it getting derailed. I definitely appreciate a question that will keep me at least a little on-topic, otherwise if I go off on my own volition I really tend to... well, go off! Even if a question is a similar topic to something I’ve already done, it’s a good exercise for me to go back to the similar headcanon and see if I can build further on it, deviate, and link it to show what past thoughts I’ve been working with. A great way of keeping some consistency in my portrayal while making improvements, I find! And then of course I’ve had some questions that are entirely new morsels for thought, and it leads me to something new and fresh, which I greatly appreciate.

Basically, any questions at all, fire away! I may take a while but I will get to them eventually!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Yeah. I mean I think it’s just polite to present a reason as to why not, instead of just being like ‘this is wrong/a bad take’ or whatever. Source material is down to personal interpretation, so if I draw different ideas from it to another person after discussion, then we can simply agree to disagree on it. 

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  They are welcome to disagree with me I guess? So long as they’re respectful and don’t then treat me as if my interpretation is ‘AU’ or talk about ‘canon Jiraiya’ as if he’s obviously a different entity to my own, then disagree away. But if prompted enough, know that I will most likely defend my portrayal with what I consider to be justification from the source material :P I did pay close attention to it, after all, and I do consider my portrayal to align well with it.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  Depends on the nature of it and the conduct, really? Like, people are allowed to dislike characters. I myself find a couple of characters pretty annoying or don’t particularly care for them (granted, usually it’s in a love-to-hate or simply a ‘this character doesn’t interest me’ way), but that doesn’t affect how I behave towards the RPer of a character. It’s just manners, really. People tend to RP characters because they like them, so why would you take negativity right to their doorstep, in this space they’ve made as an expression of enjoyment for, and to develop said character? 

There’s been some people who admitted to me that they didn’t care much for Jiraiya, but then began to like him more with my portrayal and that’s more than fine; I take it as the highest compliment in fact. It’s also the kind of open-minded attitude I like to have with portrayals of characters I don’t necessarily like or have much interest in, because by and large, people do tend to add more depth and nuance than the busy and character-packed canon allowed.

However, if it’s the type of hate that’s got its own devoted circle of bitter bitches, who seem to use so much energy hating a character... then please, don’t engage me. Doesn’t matter who the character is, don’t expect me to follow/keep following your negative ass if it’s constant on the dash—and if the target character is any of the Sannin then frankly I’ll have probably blocked/blacklisted in a heartbeat. The ‘critical’ views of them tend to diminish them as humans, diminish the context and events that surrounded their choices, and in a way that I find is a gross double standard compared to what people will allow other (read: young, attractive, fandom faves, ‘babies’ or ‘beans’) to get away with and excuse the behaviours of. I don’t need that kinda negative energy sullying my hobby, nor do I need moral superiority that isn’t applied consistently across the board.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Absolutely! I meticulously fret and check, and cringe when I get a reply and happen to spot errors while rereading what I wrote before it! I edit a lot but don’t always pick up on errors, so I’m more than happy to have it pointed out. Chances are, I’ll be far more brutal to myself about it than anyone else would be!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  Overall, yeah. I’m not possessive or clingy (I don’t think) and don’t expect the world from people, nor for them to focus on or favour me or be super fast. I just expect the same respect in return. Having said that, I will express it when I don’t like something or it makes me uncomfortable, provided we’re familiar enough, because if we’re strangers I’d feel like I was coming across as entitled to your energy and emotional labour. I do my best to be diplomatic about it though, and rest assured it doesn’t mean I’m forever mad at you or turned off in any way just because I have a small grievance. I just find that being honest with each other rather than letting things pile up and fester makes a friendship more solid, and basically more genuine and long-lasting.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @dokuhebi​ Tagging: Whoever hasn’t done this yet!

[jordaniacaridad]

Rose and Vanilla

Chapter One

Hello Lovelies! this is actually my first fic ever, so please be kind yet I will appreciate any constructive criticism! 

Rating is M

Short Summary : Eva’s life was in shambles, her sister sends her to la push to stay with their brother Sam. Will the possibility of love help her repair her life?

Rated mature for language and possible fluffy lemons/smut in the future. Note: this is all post Breaking Dawn & AU just so there isn’t any confusion about the time line. Oh and Embry has long hair and the whole having to cut their hair is lame because look at this bby with long hair ♥️

Here is a list of songs that I was listening to while writing.

Hallelujah - Brandi Carlile Eres - Cafe Tacvba Latch (Acoustic) - Sam Smith  Mid Air - Paul Buchanan 

there’s more than just those but it would take me forever to write them down, these 4 set the tone for this chapter. 

Chapter 1 

Embry’s POV 

                                                                                                          Hallelujah 

I enjoyed running at night; The way I led my body through the darkness of the forest with nothing but my senses. 

I relished in the sound of the leaves under the pressure of my legs and how my muscles would contract each time my paws hit the damp earth. 

I loved my wolf form, the only nuisance was the shared pack mind. Having to hear all the guys that have imprinted constantly drone on about their imprintees irritates me. 

I've gone to almost every measure to try to imprint; that's why I spend most of my time in my wolf form. I've given up. 

While on my nightly patrol I let aimless thoughts float through my head of what she could possibly be like. 

"Embry, she will come to you just be patient" Jared interrupted. 

I groaned at the thought of when that would happen, which seemed like never.

 "I want to know what she will be like, and it's the only way I can block out your thoughts about Kim.” Answering in irritation. 

 For the next hour we ran in silence until we neared Sams’ house, that’s when I caught on to a new scent. Rose and Vanilla. It rolled down from the clearing and into the forest, and dear god was it intoxicating. 

I followed the scent feeling almost drunk by its deliciousness until I realized just how close I had gotten to the house. Jared spoke to me the second he saw where I was.

 “Sam's little sister got here today, she doesn't know about us and Sam intends to keep it that way, keep your distance.” 

I ignored Jared and kept following her scent to the clearing that held the cottage styled home.

And there she was, like a hallelujah on the lips of a forgiven sinner and the center of a world that was unchanged yet altogether new. She stood in the window unaware of my presence and for the briefest of moments the moon escaped the haze of night; iridescent silver light shone on her ethereal face and in that instant I felt it. 

The world fell away and the only thing that held me in place was her, I didn't even know her name and yet she held me there with a force that one could not even begin to explain. 

I sat there for an indescribable amount of time almost not noticing Jared phase from his wolf form, oh so kindly giving me a moment to assimilate what just occurred. I watched her move around her room as she unpacked, bilssfully unaware of the impact she made on my world. 

When she finished setting up her room she returned to the window with a steaming mug in hand and scanned the tree line. That's when her eyes met mine. 

“Fuck, Sam is going to kill me’’ 

My heart stopped and hers accelerated, the look of recognition heavy in her eyes. Curiosity furrowed her brows as she set her mug down with deliberate determination, opened her window, swiftly climbed out, and cautiously made her way towards the edge of the clearing. 

Before she could get too close I ran, in that instant a new sensation befell upon me; a dull deep pitted pain. God this girl was obscenely brave, the sheer fact that she did not fear me filled my wolf with a heady mix of pride and worry.

As I ran, Jared phased again so we could finish our patrol; he saw and felt everything that had transpired, the realization dawned on the both of us that I was royally fucked. 

“What are you going to do?! Not only is that Sam's LITTLE SISTER, but she saw you and tried to approach you IN FUCKING WOLF FORM!’’ 

“Can you just SHUT UP Jared!”

I snapped and bared my teeth at him as a growl escaped my snout, this was going to be a lot more complicated than I had anticipated.

A week had passed and I hadn't seen her since. I had started going on patrol with only Jared trying my best to keep him from revealing what had happened that night. And also avoiding the rest of the pack; especially Sam. Though my efforts wouldn’t stop the inevitable, tonight there was going to be a bonfire and without a doubt I knew she was going to be there. 

It was late afternoon, I had just woken up having been up all night on patrol. I layed in bed thinking about her, that glorious night and about how not being around her caused me a great amount of pain. A loud voice boomed through my small home, it was Sam. Shit. I forgot to lock my front door last night. 

“Embry, get up we need to talk”

Fuck Fuck Fuck. I quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and made my way to my living room. Sam made himself at home sitting on the edge of my small couch, his elbows on his knees with his fingers laced together looking at them in a concerned manner. I sat in the chair across from him. 

“Hey Sam...whats up?”

“Dont act stupid, I know Embry’’

“You know what?’’

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I know you imprinted on my sister Eva and I know she tried to approach you… While you were in wolf form.”

My palms were sweaty and my body felt hotter than usual, I was going to kill Jared. 

“I…”

The look on my face must have been of shock and fear because Sams face softened when he finally looked up. 

“Relax embry, I'm not going to kill you; its ok. Just don't tell her about us yet and take it slow, she took our parents death a lot harder than Kira and I...and I just don't want to overwhelm her.”

“why can’t I tell her? I do not want to overwhelm her but her being my imprintee means she should understand right. I thought that's how this worked?”

In the moment it took me to blink the alpha of our pack made an appearance. 

“Just don't tell her yet Embry, that's an order do you understand me.”

My wolf cowered at the sound of our alpha and all I could do was nod as Sam made his way over to my front door. And just like that he was Sam again. 

“Please I beg you don’t be late to the bonfire tonight, she's been dying to meet the guy who painted the mural in her room. You could have met her sooner but you just HAD to disappear.”

My face was aflame, giddy embarrassment spread its fire from my cheeks up to the tips of my ears. Sam left with a smirk on his face, leaving me dumbstruck in my own living room for what seemed like an eternity; my wolf repeating only one name. Eva. 

Eva. Eva. Eva. 

While in the shower my wolf paced while repeating her name. Eva. I stood under the spray of water emanating from the shower head, letting the heat of the water soothe my sore muscles. Feral Images of Eva flooded my senses, the sight of her in the many ways I wanted her made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I fought my wolf for as long as I could but the thought of her here with me broke down my defenses and caused a shiver to run down my spine despite the hot water. Before I knew it my hand found its way to the base of my erection, I braced myself against the wall in front of me with my free hand. I gently squeezed with a firmness that caused the slightest moan to escape my lips, an image of her hand replaced the presence of my own and I shuddered at the sensation. Her movements were both smooth and long yet they consumed me with a ferocity that left me panting, she gripped me tighter and that was my undoing.

 I came with a force that I didn't expect, I yet again shuddered as her name escaped my lips. I finally let go and fully braced myself against the wall with both hands, I dropped my head low into the spray and let the water wash away the shame from my earlier actions. With a deep breath I mentally prepared myself to meet her, from the moment I saw her she consumed me and I knew already that I was irrevocably in love. 

 “Well well well, look who decided to join the rest of society!” Jared teased as I made my way onto first beach. I glared at him flipping him the bird, still pissed at the fact that he told Sam. 

I nodded hello towards Sam and Paul who were collecting wood for the fire and went and hugged the girls who were unpacking hoards of food; They all smiled at me in such a peculiar way that made me wonder if they too knew my not so little secret.  

As the evening went on an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, I mostly kept to myself as to not reveal the anxiety that wracked my body. I walked over to the edge of the beach, pulled off my shoes, and put my bare feet in the cool water. I let the cool waves chill the nervous thoughts that overtook my brain. 

 As I stood there taking in deep breaths a familiar scent engulfed my senses.  I took another deep breath, letting the scent of Rose and Vanilla consume me. 

My heart accelerated and I tried my best to compose myself as I turned towards the inebriating scent. There she stood, her face eminanting warm light as she smiled at Seth while he spoke to her. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and my wolf growled in jealousy. Mine. I looked over at Jared and Kim for reassurance; Jared as subtle as ever gave me two giant thumbs up coaxing a giggle from Kim which she tried to stifle. 

I walked towards Eva with leisure and took in how unbelievably beautiful she was. The haze of twilight covered her tanned olive skin in an almost incandescent glow; creamy waves of milk chocolate tresses crashed exquisitely around her angelic face. Soft languid pools of caramel locked onto me so fiercely that it sent a chill up my spine, and in that moment I was thankful for the cool weather. 

When I finally reached where she and Seth were standing, I shot Seth a glare that made his eyes go wide and as if to follow my unspoken command went to go get food.  

“Hello, I’m Embry” I croaked out, mentally berating myself for being anything less than cool. 

As I cleared my throat I extended my hand in greeting; the soft touch of her cool skin sent a wave of electricity through my body. Her eyes widened at the sensation confirming that she too had felt it, still holding on to my hand her plump lips spread into that same exquisite smile she gave Seth. 

With each thump of my heart my wolf paced in unison. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Hi, I'm Eva. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Her voice was just as heavenly as the rest of her.  

When she let go of my hand the familiar sting of emptiness became prominent and a light sadness spread through my chest. 

“So” she teased, lightly biting her lower lip “You’re the one who painted that mural in my room.” 

I rocked back on my heels and looked down at my feet as a fire spread to my cheeks.  

“Ah, haha yeah I… I am.” 

I looked back up and she was staring at me, a playful grin on her sweet lips with a curiosity in her eyes that made the fire on my cheeks spread to my ears. That grin quickly turned into a smile that made me forget who I was, the little giggle that followed awakened an urge that I tried to stifle earlier today. I had to control myself, though my wolf knew that eventually he would make her his.  

Mine. 

“I love it, it’s absolutely beautiful. I was starting to wonder when I was going to meet you, Emily and Sam speak very highly of you”

Her sweet confession filled my wolf and I with pride.

 Eva turned and slowly made her way towards the edge of the beach, she slightly turned her head to signal me to come and I obediently followed. She stopped right where the water and sand collided, and sat down on a dried log that the waves washed ashore many years ago. 

Eva proceeded to look up at me with a lightness in her eyes that implored me to sit with her, that all consuming gaze tugged at me until I was planted right next to her. As I turned to face her my knee slightly brushed hers which caused a familiar current to shoot through us like lighting; We both jumped at the exhilarating sensation. After a moment of being shell shocked I finally spoke up, my voice cutting through the energy buzzing between us. 

“So how do you like La Push so far?” 

I inquired with obvious interest. 

“it's so different compared to Houston, kind of a shock to the system to be honest. I like it though, the change is more than welcomed.” 

I nodded in response, I studied her gaze; the same light of curiosity I saw only a week ago beamed through her eyes as she spoke. 

“I'm sorry I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere, I know we just met but you look so familiar.”

Realization dawned on me. The clearing, she saw me in wolf form at the entrance of the clearing. 

“Umm...nnno, I..I guess I just have one of those faces. Heh.’’

Disappointment fell into a shadow underneath her eyelashes, the look of almost sadness squeezed at my heart. Knowing that her intuition was spot on killed me even more.  We spoke for quite some time, I learned that she was infatuated with books, that her favorite beverage was Rose tea with a hint of Vanilla, and that cinnamon rolls were the perfect cure for any and all ailments. She is perfection personified. Quite some time had passed when we noticed that everyone had started to pack up their things to leave, I stood up and gave her my hand to help pull her to her feet. As she placed her hand in mine, for the third time that day electricity sparked through us; I wasn't ready to let her go. 

“May I walk you home?”

She beamed at me and nodded yes in response, I led her to a dimly lit path that I knew would slowly take us to Sam's house. We walked in silence enjoying the electric current that would burst between our hands as they brushed up against each other. The attraction between was inexcusably palpable, we were like two magnets on the verge of collision. 

The small cottage home came into view and my heart ached at the fact that I would have to leave her side. We made our way up the path that led to the back porch, I turned to face her and noticed a sadness taking hold of her which only made my heart ache even more. She wasn't ready to go and I wasn’t ready to let her. 

A cool breeze pushed through us causing her to shiver which gave me an excuse to inch closer to warm up the small space around us. A strand of hair billowed towards the center of her face and before I could stop myself I found my forefinger tracing the bridge of her petite nose.

I bore my soul to her with just one look, I told her the story of my people and the love I held for her as I slowly pushed the stray strand across her cheek and placed it behind her ear; With my thumb I traced the edge of her jaw until I reached the tip of her chin. I looked down and found her bottom lip which she ever so lightly bit and with a slight tug I set it free. 

My eyes worked their way back up her face, committing to memory each delicate feature; finally reaching the destination that were her eyes. They bore into me intensely, melted and spilling anguished longing into every pore of my being.  

I placed my free hand on the small of her back and closed the little space that was left between us. I slid the hand that rested on her chin to the back of her neck and slowly guided her lips to mine. When at last we collided every doubt I had about today melted away; She wanted me just as I wanted her.  

Her lips were soft, supple and full of desire, I pulled her lush lip in between my teeth causing a soft moan to escape her. In that moment my wolf took claim, her want for me drove him mad; her body, soft and sweet, gave no resistance as I pushed her up against the wall. Our tongues danced to an unheard melody while her hands tugged at my hair. In that instant she woke a beast that only she could control, a beast that wouldn't be able to stop if given permission. I wanted more than what I could take and with that realization I reluctantly pulled away. Our chests heaved in unison taking in the air that we had deprived ourselves, bodies still intertwined not wanting to break contact; the heat almost too unbearable to live without. 

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to…” 

My voice trailed off, I couldn’t find the words in between my breaths. 

“You’re sorry you kissed me?’’

Her voice was heavy and sad, I broke our contact and placed my hands on either side of her head. I told her again with just one look what she meant to me.  

“I will never be sorry for kissing you, I'm just sorry if it was too much”

“No, never.”

She placed her small hand on my cheek, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. She was intoxicating and if I didn't leave now I never would. I placed my hand over hers and pulled it to my lips, the scent of her favorite tea heavy on her fingers. I opened my eyes to a sad smile, she knew it was time for me to leave.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“If that's what you want then yes; I will be wherever, whenever you want me there…”

She gave a slight nod to her head, confirming that she indeed did want to see me again. With that I pulled her into me and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

“Good night my Eva.”

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

Fanfic Author Meme

Tagged by @diligent-thunder and @rockmarina​ =)

Okay, so I’m me, and I talked way too much, so I’m putting this under a cut to save your dashes. You’re welcome 😘

Please do not reblog this post.

Author Name: 

Fleetofshippyships + Knowyourincantations + Legendaryroar

Fandoms You Write For: 

(in order of decreasing # of fics) Harry Potter, Voltron, Merlin, Yuri on Ice, Star Trek, Star Wars and then a few one-offs that aren’t really worth mentioning.

Where You Post: 

AO3 primarily, Tumblr, trying to post more on Pillowfort, I also post on a couple of sites for knowyourincantations

Most Popular One-Shot: 

Fleetofshippyships: Potter’s Insatiable Cock (Drarry, Explicit (duh XD), 20k (viewable only for logged-in AO3 users)).

Knowyourincantations: A Decent Start to Things (Pansmione, Teen, 7k)

Legendaryroar: Finding Time for Rest (Sheith (Voltron), Teen, 3k)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: 

RestraintNone of my old multi-chapter fics are available to read at this time and I don’t really write multi-chapter fics anymore.

If oneshot/drabble collections or two-shots count, then:

Fleetofshippyships: Vanilla and Sweet Spices (Drarry, Explicit, 2 chapters, 20k)

and this really doesn’t count, but technically it has multiple ‘chapters’ soooooooooo

Legendaryroar: Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships (Voltron), Explicit (duh), 31 ‘chapters’, 26k)

Favourite Story You Wrote: 

I don’t think I ever have a static favourite, I’ve just written too many things, I too quickly move on to the next (and frequently forget some of my own fics exist XD), but recently I re-read In Pursuit of Red Wine (Dreville, Teen, 29k) and really enjoyed that again, and I am really attached to it cos it was my first longish rarepair fic, kind of proving to myself that I can write longer rarepair stuff. 

I also recently re-read Unburdened (Merthur (BBC Merlin), Explicit, 2k) and really enjoyed that too, had a total disconnect from having written it since it’s been so long, so I was able to read it without self-judging, and oh boy that was nice. 

I’m also quite proud of Healing What’s Left (Parkgrass, Teen, 2k) for some reason, I dunno, maybe the dark political backdrop of the fic, or maybe just cos it’s the first time I’ve written Daphne as the main character and I’m happy with the result and now have some headcanons about her rather than her being an unknown blank character to me. 

I also binge read a lot of my Voltron stuff recently and had big feels over that so....I also specifically enjoyed re-reading The Perks of Skincare (Klance (Voltron), Explicit, 3k) again cos I dunno, I like how I wrote Lance XD and also the Sheith fic I linked earlier is a fav for sure. Shiro/Rest is the ultimate OTP.

It really depends how soon after I write something or when I go back to re-read it as to what my fav is at any given time (or people commenting on it and hyping me up for it again).

Story You Were Nervous to Post: 

Everything. But most recently I was terrified out of my mind before posting: 

Friday Night by the Fire (Harry/Neville, Teen, 583 words) because I have a lot of fears about screwing up trying to write ace characters and somehow not even making that a focal point of the drabble made it even more terrifying,  No More Waiting (TianShan (19 Days), Teen, 2k) because it was a new fandom to write in, Harry Potter and the Maudlin Merman series (Drarry, Teen+ Mature, 3k +6k) due to my feelings of inadequacy because it would be better as long fic but I struggle too much with writing these days to write long fics and can only manage short things. I’d rather write this as a long fic, but then I’d never finish it so connected oneshots are the best I can do right now, but I still feel it’s not good enough and have a meltdown whenever I post one. And speaking of which, I’ve been sitting on the next one for months and should probably just fucking post it already.

Actually, most recently: Minding One’s Limits (Cho/Ginny, G rated, 1.5k), because I gave Cho a disability modeled off my fibromyalgia and wrote a scenario similar to something I’d dealt with myself, it was incredibly uncomfortable to write in the first place, and then terrifying to post, even though it’s so short. But in the end I’m proud I finally wrote about it a bit? I dunno, might take me a while to work up the nerve again though XD (also was my first time writing that ship, so there was a lot of nervousness over that too)

Oh, and I was a super ball of anxiety posting  Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships, Explicit, 31 ‘chapters’, 26k) because for almost all of those it was the first time I was writing those kinks (and some were kind of squicks for me but I wanted to see if I could write them anyway cos I’m dumb like that) and in a lot of cases those ships were completely new for me to write too, in addition to trying to write and post 1 a day, so...yeah. Also that was my first time writing tentacle and human/werewolf smut so...yeah. I was an absolute mess that month and not in a fun way. But I’m still really glad I did it, it was fun =D

In summary, I’m always an anxious mess posting anything, but most especially if it’s something I’ve not written before or is personal to me XD

How Do You Choose Your Titles: 

Most of the time I’m staring down the empty title field in AO3 cursing like a fucking sailor when I choose titles XD Sometimes it’s a line/theme/feeling from the fic. Sometimes it’s totally random and just comes to me. Sometimes I just grasp the first thing that I can no matter how stupid it sounds cos it’s been three days and I still don’t have a title and I’m over it and ready to post before I lose my nerve.

And tbh, it’s only getting harder to think of titles as my number of fics increases, and I’ve now started thinking of the perfect titles only to realise I already have a published fic by that title so....TITLES CAN DIE A FIERY DEATH

Sometimes, not so much anymore, it would turn out that I would give a wip doc a name just so I’d know what it was, sometimes as a joke with whoever was reading it and cheerleading while I wrote it, and then I would refer to it by that and think of it as that so much that when it came time to actually give the fic a title, it was too late and I could not think past that stupid file name, and that’s how Potter’s Insatiable Cock happened, and how I very nearly called a Merthur fic Arthur’s Wanking Tower (saved that one at the last moment thank god cos the tone of that fic is actually really serious and emotional and wtf was I even thinking with that file name and actually I linked to that fic above XD it ended up being called Unburdened). 

Potter’s Insatiable Cock slipped through cos it’s actually relevant to the fic content and I could live with it.

But needless to say, I don’t give my wip docs joke names anymore XD

Do You Outline: 

Only if I never want to actually write the idea...once I outline, it’s over. I can’t write to a detailed plan. It stifles me. I’ll always get stuck having to try and think ahead to the plan, and then I lose the flow and nothing works because I’m a pantser/intuitive/instinctive writer not a planner. Sometimes I jot down ideas but in like, the vaguest of ways, usually more focused on emotional development than actual scenes or events or anything because then I won’t be able to write it (and I rarely stick to those vague ideas anyway). 

I can really only write when I’m staring down a blank doc with no idea where it’s going and discover it as I go (which is why writing is so fun for me). I can only finish a fic if I don’t think too hard about what’s going to happen next and just let it happen as I write. 

This of course means that editing is a fucking bitch when I finish anything, beginnings often get totally re-written, but if I plan, it just doesn't happen at all, so I’ll take the extra editing if it means I manage to write something.

I do have a lot of detailed plotty fic idea outlines...and I mourn them cos I’m never going to write them now, but they’re so goooooooooood XD

Complete: 

Online (across all 3 accounts): 381 (incl. my hidden drarry fics as they are technically online just hidden, not incl. individual oneshots/drabbles in collection ‘fics’, of which there are ridiculously many). Offline: 20 (I have the worst habit of just sitting on completed fics and I really need to stop)

In-Progress: 

Too many to name, last time I counted it was ~60 but that wasn’t even including my vld wips so...I don’t actually know. I hoard wips and just switch up what I work on all the time depending on mood/interest levels/effort required. 

Current main focuses are a 50k+ plotty Drarry (*fingerscrossed* cos this is my first time seriously attempting something long (will probably reach 80k at least) in a very long time and I put it down for a few months and thought that was it but then I picked it up again recently, yay!), and re-writing some hidden fics I can’t put them back up in the quality they’re in, I just can’t guys, they’re awful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about working on the longish 8th year Pansmione fic I started for the wlw big bang before I had to pull out of cos stupid life stuff. I might pick that up again for a bit too, couldn’t be more different from the Drarry one so it’d make a nice focus break =)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: 

I don’t even plan fics I’m writing, I sure don’t plan ahead to stuff I haven’t even started XD The only think I can think of for this category would be me re-writing my hidden long Drarry fics.

Oh, and there will be a Merthur oneshot coming (hopefully) soon, because @april-thelightfury115​ won my custom fic giveaway with a merthur idea. Just waiting for my brain to cooperate so I can start that and not suck XD but I’m so fucking excited to write some Merthur again, you have no idea.

Oh, and lots more Sapphic September drabbles coming too, I’m way behind and only just posted day 11 cos this month is literal hell for me, but I am still planning on finishing the prompt list, no matter how long it takes, but no plan for those, not even which ships, I just sit down with the next prompt and a blank doc and see what happens.

Do You Accept Prompts: 

Yes, I love writing to prompts, I’m take them via google form here, but I’m in such a bad space with my health I’ve been really struggling with writing lately, managed to do a bit of editing (fuck knows how), but writing new stuff is so hard, so there’s a long wait while I wait for my fibro fog to ease off to the point I can write new stuff with more regularity (and less stupid errors I have to edit out later).

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: 

Again, I so don’t plan. But I really want to be making more progress on the long plotty drarry wip I’m trying to write. I’m still not sure I’ll have the guts to post it even if I do finish it, given its subject matter (it would make a great careers or consent fest fic tbh), but damn I’m really excited by it. Not sure I can maintain it being plotty and not revert to focusing on the relationship (which is easier for me), but I can only try and see what happens. (trying to write a non-relationship plot without planning is a nightmare but I don’t have a choice if I want to write it at all XD)

I’m also now excited for my longish pansmione wip too actually, just because it’s already longer than my Dreville long-ish fic and it’s exciting and scary to do longer rarepair stuff. I’m way out of my comfort zone with the fic itself, but I dunno, I re-read some recently and fell in love with it all over again, like, flustered lesbian-awakening, disaster for Pansy (but sure she still hates her) Hermione? YES PLEASE! and also, I am guilty of not writing female characters as much as I should because, well, canonically, they don’t have much depth and I’m very meh about them, but in this there’s a huge focus on them because they’re all determined to band together for 8th year and Hermione is making friends with them (Parvati is like, dragging her along all the time XD) where she once dismissed them so it’s scary but exciting =D I’m getting more practice with all the sapphic I do over on knowyourincantations, so I feel more confident working on this wip now =D

I’m also kind of excited about re-writing my old long fics, because they’re all 3 years old now, and my writing tastes (and skill, yikes) have totally changed, so it’s like I’m writing the story again but how I would write it now while maintaining the overall same plot, so it’s really interesting, like discovering the story all over again. Like in one (Making Malfoy Blush) I’ve gone as far as introducing a new side character to replace another’s parts because I no longer feel those parts are in character for them. It’s super terrifying, but it’s fun at the same time =) it’ll take me forever to do these though, so I dunno about ‘upcoming’ really, I only chip away every now and then when I’m unable to write new stuff but am still coherent enough to do something.

Eh, it is what it is, I can’t write like I used to, hence me being inactive more than active these days, but I’m trying to work within my new limitations instead of getting frustrated with them and just giving up entirely =)

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Now, who to tag....I think anyone I would tag has already done it, and if not..I blame the fog if I’m forgetting someone obvious, if you wanna do it just say I tagged you so I can be nosy and take a look =)

Again, please do not reblog this post