#I write shit

[ashyblondwaves]

Peeta’s reaction to making Katniss laugh for the first time after he comes back

Thank you for the prompt! This is such a sweet one!

Flicker

I’m afraid I’m forgetting things.

The angle of the roof. The chipped paint on the sign above the bakery. The way the sun hit the cobblestones in the merchant square just before noon.

I draw to remember, but today the lines won’t come. Or when they do, they’re shaky. Like my hands haven’t quite learned the truth from the lies yet. 

Katniss and I, we’ve both been back in District 12 together for two weeks now. Mostly, it’s a lot of silence; a lot of doing our own things. We see Haymitch on his porch, drinking until the sun goes down, but I’m not sure if he even registers he’s out there or remembers he’s home at all.  

I hear her stirring in the house, and I’m struck with how heavy her footsteps suddenly are. Like she’s dragging herself across the floor and the noise is the only thing that reminds her she’s alive.  

The sketch isn’t coming out right, and I can’t stop thinking about how still the house feels, even with both of us awake. I’ve spent too many days just sitting here, trying to fix things that can’t be fixed with a pencil or paint. 

I have to do something. Closing my eyes, I think of what I remember. Her voice, beautiful, even if she doesn’t think so, but I could hardly ask her to sing right now. What about something else? A laugh, maybe. If I could just pull even a like chuckle from her, I’d feel like I’ve won. I think for just a moment when I realize what it’ll take to find her laughter. 

I’m quick to speak, making sure I’ve caught her as she’s near the open door when I slip into my Haymitch impression. 

“Alright, Everdeen, here’s the deal: you don’t smile, I’ll keep drinking, and the world just keeps spinning,” I say, shaking my head at how terrible it is, but I continue. “Think you can manage that?”

I hear her before I see her; a light, airy chuckle as the screen door opens next to me. 

“That was the worst Haymitch impression I’ve ever heard,” she says, but I see the lift in her lips, a lightness in her step as she takes a seat in the chair next to me. “Trying to draw the bakery again?” she whispers. 

I nod and let her look at my shaky work, those gray eyes roaming over the lines and curves I’ve tried so hard to remember. 

“It’s getting better,” she says timidly. “Less like it's been in an earthquake.” 

Now it’s my turn to laugh. She’s taken my own self-deprecating joke that I’ve made countless times over the last two weeks and given it right back to me. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I think maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay.

[ladylancing]

Te veo llegar como hace años

y la espalda se me eriza de nuevo

como la primera vez que nos animamos

a recorrer los caminos de las piernas de la otra.

Pero esta vez hay algo distinto

y es que recien cuando cruzas el umbral de la puerta

siento que llego a casa.

Y ahi se que puedo quedarme,

haciendo noche en los nudos de tu espalda

en tu boca que me mira embelesada

en tus ojos que me recorren la comisura de los labios.

Se que puedo quedarme en esas manos

que se esfuerzan en lograr primeros llantos

y desarman los míos con ligereza de viento.

No se todavía como hiciste

para barrer a besos un río de preocupación.

Te burlaste del miedo

y te quedaste con mi pestaña en tu pulgar.

Y acá estoy juntando las tuyas

para construir una ciudad que sea solo nuestra.

[lilchapters]

my first post,

i write fanons and cannons, i write shit for u to read <3

follow if u like the shit i write bcs they'll be moree

[itsarandomblog]

sometimes i gotta remind myself i wrote those stories for myself, not for the reads or views.

like, oh i love this idea. imma write it down and share it with someone who'd be willing to listen, even if I'm the only one reading it and voting on it lol

[hitaka5ever]

I just have to write the flashback scene of Ozzy fighting Thrax on Shane's face in my Thrax/Ozzy fic/comic and chapter 2 will be done

[tookishcombeferre]

Pip Rambles Number ??

You ever write a fic that got so popular that you just wish all your fics were as popular as that one you wrote as a depressed 20-something queer and now your at the tail end of your 20-something queer fan fiction life span and are just like … damn why’d that fucker take off?

In other words, I’m still on the Victorian fainting chair dying of a lack of reviews.

I’m actually this dramatic in real life. I promise. I might be worse. XD

[wheremermaidsdwell]

is anyone willing to help me with my regency romance novella (that I have no idea what I will do with once I finish)? I will dump it into gdocs if so, rn i have about 13k with large chunks of skipping bc fuckit brain. I am trying to figure out some of the flow better? I think I have the climax (heh) figured out now? maybe?? This will mostly involve me bouncing ideas off of you.

Short plot summary is: We are in a Cyrano de Bergerac like situation where male lead had promised his best friend to help win over the female lead for him. As he helps he falls in love with her too, but resigns himself to giving her up for his friend until the our two leads have become so close that the lady confides in him that his friend gravely offended her last season (and tried to ruin her reputation! :o ) so she cannot love him. Bets are off, drama ensues.

[larrikin-writes-shit]

Two Princes

A poem for Elliot

Two princes wandered the forest,     each with their own head and their own heart           neither lacking dream nor passion;     both missing the map, having only the start. Two princes pursued the path,     with groaning shells of armor shimmering ‘neath the leaves           protecting both body and mind from;     the goliath monsters Gaia conceives. Two princes strode side by side,     the occasional hiccup among the laughter, and           ears singing with the chorus of a thousand sighs;     from nights wrapped in bedsheets and ghosting hands. Two princes held loyal smiles,     petrified to speak utterances of           the shadows that flickered and burned in corners;     devouring away their sense of self-love. Two princes joined their hands as one,     exchanging whispers of praise between swollen lips           and from their lungs sprouted the gifts of life;     blossoms of flowers and long-forgotten scripts. They heal, slowly, their love stitching wounds one by one- and their bond sharpening the blades they wield. Gaia’s goliaths seem smaller, and the mud-torn path melts into steady cobblestone- the Gods finally granting a solid foundation. Two princes pass through the city gate,     each with a stronger head and a bolder heart           visions that fuel their waking dreams;     and embraces that won’t be pulled apart.

[ashyblondwaves]

Prompt time

The morning after the "you love me real or not real" Haymitch starts to make jokes at Peeta and Katniss about the noise or that they have a glow. But then he starts to see the happiness between the two look exactly like him and Lenore Dove

PS. Do these prompts have to be a certain rating or can they go the explicit?

Hello and thank you for this lovely little prompt! Prompts can be any rating at all, I absolutely love writing explicit stuff :)

Nothing to Survive

I’m halfway up the steps to Katniss and Peeta’s, already thinking about the bitter taste of a cup of hot coffee, when I find the damn door’s locked. That’s new, and mildly inconvenient, since I wasn’t planning on knocking like a civilized person or anything. Peeta’s usually up before the sun, and he always has the door unlocked for me since the three of us started having breakfast together a few months ago. 

I’m just raising my fist to knock when the door abruptly clicks and swings open, revealing a disheveled but smiling Peeta. 

“Haymitch,” he says, stepping aside and allowing me to walk in. “Sorry about that, got a late start. Katniss will be down in just a minute.” 

It’s curious for me to rise before them, but I just shrug and throw myself in my usual chair at the table while Peeta goes to the refrigerator to retrieve whatever he’ll be making. 

Katniss emerges a minute later, moving faster than she needs to, her hair half plaited, and a shirt that’s definitely not her own billowing around her midsection. She wordlessly starts the coffee before sidestepping over to where Peeta is whisking eggs in a bowl. 

“Need any help?” she asks Peeta. 

“I got it, is the coffee on?” he replies. 

“Just started it,” Katniss confirms. 

It’s the way that she rubs his arm and fixes his hair that sets off my alarms. Katniss is about as affectionate as a houseplant, and Peeta is as consistent as the seasons changing every year. Things are starting to add up and if I think what happened did happen, I say it’s about damn time. I smirk to myself as Katniss sits herself down across from me. 

“Oversleep?” I ask conspiratorially. 

Katniss raises her gaze to me and scowls. She knows I know, and it just spurs me to continue. 

“What’d you two do last night?” I continue. Not an unusual question from me, we check in on each other, make sure the other hasn’t finally snapped. We frequently talk about how our days or nights were. I eye Katniss’ shirt. “I trust it wasn’t laundry.” 

“Haymitch,” Katniss growls. “Don’t.”

“What?” I ask, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’m just checking on you two.” 

Peeta turns around and catches my eye. I see the smirk on his lips, and it’s all the confirmation that I need. 

“Well, it’s about damn time,” I finally say, and Katniss slams her hand on the table. 

“Haymitch!” She grits out. “I said don’t. Can’t you just listen for once?”

“I could,” I tease, taking a steaming mug of coffee from Peeta when he hands it over. “But that wouldn’t be like me, would it?”

“Alright,” Peeta interrupts. “Food is ready.” 

We serve ourselves in silence. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and fluffy pancakes are piled on my plate and I dig in, stuffing my face with Peeta’s flawless cooking, stealing glances at Katniss and Peeta as they chat with each other about how they’re going to spend their day. 

“Thought we could walk down to the lake later if it’s not raining,” Peeta says in a hushed tone. He’s speaking to Katniss only and their conversation is not meant for my ears, but I listen anyway. How can I not?

“Can we bring the hammock?” Katniss asks, taking a bite of her bacon. 

“You planning to nap through the whole afternoon?” Peeta asks with a grin. 

“Only if you’re there, too,” Katniss replies in a tone that I’ve never, ever heard from her before. 

They share a glance, and it immediately takes me back to days in the meadow with Lenore Dove. The lazy bliss, the banter… the love. I know she would have adored these two just the way I do, even if I don’t tell them enough, if ever. They know of Lenore Dove now, since I told them all about her while they worked on their memory book and now that they know, I feel like it’s ok to say something. 

“You two deserve this, you know,” I tell them, cutting into their domestic bliss. “After what you went through, what you’re still going through. To still have each other… that’s something special.”  

I see Katniss soften a bit, and I know that she’s thinking of my Covey girl and all I told them about her. Peeta smiles, and I know he’s thinking of her too. 

“She’ll never be forgotten, Haymitch,” he tells me. “Not only is she in our book, she’s in your heart. Keep her there.” 

I nod, not sure of what to say, not used to this sort of conversation between the three of us. 

“I will,” I croak out, and I don’t say anything else, because for once, they look like kids with nothing to survive, and hell, I’m not about to ruin that.

[ladylancing]

Estoy en el lugar que quiero estar

ignorando la sapiencia y la cautela

animandome a entregarlo todo

a compartir sin saber qué.

Estoy aprendiendo a decir que sí,

a animarme a soñar de nuevo,

a planificar sin que importe tanto.

Me estoy amigando con que a veces las cosas son fáciles

y que lo que viene de las entrañas

va a encontrar su cauce.

Que el ideal puede estar

justo en frente

en la simpleza de lo orgánico

en la tibieza de una torta de manzana en una tarde de lluvia

en un sillón sin destino

en un paseo sin apuro

en unas manos que se entrelazan sin pensar.

[hitaka5ever]

I just realized I can draw my favorite Ganondorf/Ghirahim scene from my Ghirahim backstory where Ganondorf asks him how he's feeling from having Ganondorf in him and Ghirahim yells "Feels like I have a giant pillar up my ass, how do you think I feel?!"

[thesamuelfisherman]

BATTLE BASTARD (a multi-part story by me) FINALE

The boy made his way towards the challenger and as soon as the battle started, it ended. With a swift low blow, the challenger brought the boy to his knees. As he moved in for the kill, he stared at the Bastard, eyes glowing with pure rage. The Bastard knew that glow. He ran over to the challenger to stop him but he was too late.

The battle was over. Rütcker slashed the boy’s throat and disappeared in a bright glow shortly after. The Bastard tried his best to remove the weapons from the boy’s hands. His weapons. He powered through the intense sickness rising in his body and threw the weapons to the side. He looked at the boy with more pain than he had ever felt. Where oh where was the death he once longed for.

“This should’ve been me” the Bastard lamented. He attempted to pick up the boy, but he was exhausted. Others came to help him, but the Bastard wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Word of what happened reached the mother and she raced over to see her son. She arrived to see the Bastard kneeling at the boy’s side.

Tears began to create an ever growing darkness on the boy’s still chest. Gently the mother came and picked her boy’s head up, resting his head on her chest so that the world could not see his failure. All the mother saw was her boy. Her beautiful boy. “All he wanted was to be like you” mourned the mother. The Bastard stared at the ground, unable to look at his failure. “HE JUST WANTED TO BE YOU. LOOK AT MY BOY. LOOK AT MY BOY YOU BASTARD. LOOK AT--- him.”

As the last word emerged from her lips, she began to slump over and fell back. The Bastard scrambled over to her, desperately trying to get her eyes to open once more. But alas the battle was over. He killed once more, with a weapon more powerful than any steel in all the realms.

The Bastard would battle no more.

[larrikin-writes-shit]

07/25/21

Today, time got the best of me again.

I was in right now, 

later on, 

and earlier today, 

all in the same moment-- When? Ever? 

Every time I look at the clock, 

no time at all has passed but yet-- it is now dark

the Sun makes his nest in 

the hills beyond, giving way to 

his sister Moon. Will I wake suddenly,

with a single blink, in my armchair

and see the Sun shine

through my window once more? This morning? Tomorrow? 

Has no time passed, still?

Did it ever pass at all,

for me?

[ashyblondwaves]

Prompt? The moment Haymitch realized that Peeta was important to him. Because he could only bring back one tribute, and he chose his best friend’s daughter. So when he realized Peeta meant something too? Meant something for himself not a dead friend or a memory of a lost child? That had to be a big thing for him. Unlike Katniss, I think Peeta meant someone not tainted by his games and memories. Peeta was the first kind person he let into his life after he pushed everyone else away. Katniss too, but Katniss comes with old baggage and her own family to keep her busy. Peeta did not. I just feel no one explores that angle. Always how Katniss and Haymitch are a lot alike, not why those similarities would draw them both to the same boy.

Thank You for this amazing prompt! I knew I could go to sleep until I wrote this, so I hope you enjoy! <3

This Wasn't Supposed to Hurt

I don’t remember his name being called. I was a little preoccupied with being unconscious on the ground to notice the boy nobody would dare volunteer for. 

Could you blame them? Not many would put their own life on the chopping block for another, and after the spectacle that was Katniss volunteering for her sister, nobody was ready to repeat it. 

The first thing I remember about him was when he hoisted me up out of a pool of my own vomit and dragged me off to my shower. Nobody tells you how sobering it is to slip in your own sick and have a pair of kids take care of you. 

After dismissing Katniss, Peeta took the burden of cleaning me up himself, and that’s when I knew he would die. Nobody that gentle or kind, who would take a relative stranger and clean them up like that, would survive in the arena very long. 

But then, the very next day, he surprised me by getting aggressive when I wrote them off. He was pissed, and it surprised me so much, I couldn’t do anything but punch in him in the face. Then Katniss got involved, and I was forced to see them for what they could possibly be to this stagnant rebellion.

The problem was that two of them weren’t designed to be a team. Sure, they could become allies, stick together in the arena and take every one out, but the time would come when one of them would have to die if they both survived to the end. The Capitol is particularly cruel for rigging things this way. 

We even tried the team angle for a while, having them go into things as one, but Peeta got tired of that quickly. He had his own plans. Tactics to give it to the Capitol as good as they gave it. 

He’s a rascal, that one. And not in the way that I pretended to be one. He just is, through and through, without any sort of facade, and I admire that. 

Even with all of that, I knew there would still come the moment where I had to choose one of them. They couldn’t both come home, and Peeta made it almost too easy for me to choose Katniss, which he probably intended. 

After teaming with the Careers, the Capitol wasn’t too keen on him, even though it was plain to see why he did it. But Capitol folks aren’t the sharpest tools and during the games everything comes with a price, and it this was going to cost Peeta his life.

I don’t doubt for a second that his feelings for Katniss are genuine. I try to think of going into the arena with Lenore Dove, how I would have done any and everything to protect her and make sure she got to go back home and I know without a second thought that if I had to, I would have done the exact same thing as Peeta.

It’s when Peeta and the Careers have Katniss trapping in a tree that I have to make my decision. It’s relatively easy to negotiate with the sponsors to send Katniss the burn cream, something I could never negotiate for Peeta after allying with the Careers, which means I have my answer. 

Then Katniss drops a Tracker Jacker nest on them all, and there’s something in my gut that lurches when I see Peeta screaming at Katniss to leave as Cato closes in. Something that causes my head to spin that has nothing to do with alcohol, when Cato realizes that Peeta helped Katniss escape. The scuffle, the way Peeta holds his ground. It’s familiar to me. I see myself at that age about to go toe to toe with a Peacekeeper to keep him from harming Lenore Dove, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve made a mistake.

He’s lying in the mud now, covered head to toe in the thick, wet earth, injured and clinging to life. I wonder if I should have done more for Peeta, negotiated something for him, gotten the Capitol sponsors on his side again. It wouldn’t have been too hard with these people, but it’s too late now. 

I spend the hours with a gnawing feeling in my stomach. How quickly this boy showed me kindness, and I couldn’t even do the same for him. How easily I’ve been able to see myself in him, and I ignored it. How once again I was trapped into playing the game. I throw my empty glass at the wall, angry that Snow has forced my hand this way for yet another year, because the truth is, I want them both to come home. 

I wait and wait for the cannon to go off, to signal that Peeta’s gone, but it never comes. 

Then Claudius Templesmith announces the rule change, and everything changes. 

[ladylancing]

Existe el inesperado

como que en un ramo de rosas haya un clavel.

Pero existe aquello que se parece mas

a que en un ramo de claveles haya una oveja.

Lo gracioso es que uno afirmaría

sin demasiado resquemor

que no puede encontrarse una oveja

entre los vástagos de una flor de agua.

Y lo mejor es que estaría equivocada

porque la oveja está

porque produce lana

porque te da calor porque te infunde ternura.

Yo no sabía ni que buscaba una oveja

ni que podía estar ahí.

Quizas es eso lo que opaca a los claveles.

[hitaka5ever]

I'm going to be the minority in this fandom, but I'm gonna make Thrax unfit in the belly. People give him prominent abs, but I don't see him that way. He's a thin guy and almost looks malnourished in my mind (going based on how thin his arms look in his overcoat)