#Nice wip Russian?

[1random-starfish]

[nyssasorbit]

Hell

[obsidiangravity]

Nikto Gets A Cat

I saw this lovely artwork by @quimera-cami and it possessed me to drop all other WIP to write this.

Summary - Spetsnaz are tasked with guarding a remote location. Can’t ask for a simpler operation really. The only downside for Nikto is having to endure the stifling presence of his teammates. Maintaining what’s left of his sanity in such a tiny house is an exhausting challenge, but at least they all get their own sleeping quarters.

Until Rodion returns from a weekly grocery run with a companion.

Word count - 3.9k

Tags - Fluff, Alcohol, Nikto being nice.

It’s no secret to the closest people in Nikto’s life that he despises cats.

The incessant calls for attention. The hair that seems to overrun everything one owns. Their need to mark and ruin upholstery. His disdain for those common house pets are seen as irrational. Perhaps it's a childhood trauma long forgotten, the unsavoury memories regarding these animals locked away in the dark corners of his mind.

But he disagrees. The extreme hatred is warranted. How could it not? What do they provide other than misery and annoyance. He’s grateful to have been spared the torment of living around one since he joined the military over a decade ago.

So the man is rendered temporarily speechless and imobile when Rodion calls out from behind him on the armchair, “Look at what I found outside the supermarket!” and five kilograms of hissing fluff and fury is dumped on his thighs. 

The feline snarls and bares its teeth at the person that dropped it. Long razor-sharp claws dig into Nikto’s flight suit, poking his skin.

He winces, gaze narrowing at the youngest Russian. “What the fuck is this?”

“Mm, it’s a cat,” Rodion mumbles over a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie as he searches for the TV remote and brushes stray crumbs onto the ground. It makes Nikto’s fingers twitch. “Siberian I think?”

Dmitry looks up from his task of chopping potatoes in the scantily sized kitchen, amusement ghosting the corner of his eyes. “Oh, it could be, but they are usually a little bigger, no?”

The cat, in a blur of unruly fur, launches itself off Nikto's lap, nails screeching and scraping the wooden floorboards as it skitters across like one of those rats caught out in the light in this shithole of a house. In a second, the creature vanishes behind a doorway to a bedroom. The one belonging to Maxim.

Rodion clucks his tongue. “Well, someone tell Maxim he has a new roommate when he’s back from patrol.”

An acidic scowl is hidden behind his balaclava when Nikto notices the strands of hair and filth left on his uniform. “Are you soft in the head? Why did you bring it here?”

“Saw her scavenging in the garbage as I was about to return. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Get rid of it, or I will shoot it.” His voice low and coarse. It is the only response Nikto gives before he stands up, readying to leave for a shift change with Maxim.

Nikto returns twelve hours later after a quiet night, slips out of his worn leather boots to find his single bed occupied.

The feline saw fit to curl up on it and rub dirt on his clean white blankets and pillows. Of course it would be in here, his room is the only empty one.

He’s able to get a better look at it as it sleeps. Dust clings to its matted and tangled cream-coloured fur. Its scrawny figure and ribs are barely concealed by its thick coat. Thin, elegant, almost silver whiskers a contrast to the extremely bushy unkempt tail.

Three small lines of scar run from its right cheek to its velvet-like ear. This is no pampered house pet, it may have been once, however those times were long gone.

He lightly shoos the cat away. It startles from peaceful sleep and hisses, tries to gouge his hand with the tiny daggers on its fingertips, but ultimately scampers off and hides under the bed.

Nikto sighs, long and drawn out. Questioning if he should bother using the back of his rifle like a stick to force it out of his room. He reaches for it, then decides it’s not worth potentially hurting himself from an accidental discharge.

He flips the switch off and collapses on the mattress.

~~~

He wakes up before everyone else again, the sun heating his face through the dusty window. Nikto blinks against the early morning rays and stretches his stiff muscles with a content groan. His toes collide with something furry and soft, and that brief moment of peaceful serenity is disrupted by a sharp scratch to his bare calf.

The half asleep man jerks away from the sting — accidently rolling off the bed. A shoulder and knee takes the full brunt of the fall and the greater pain jolts him fully awake, a “Blyat,” escaping his scarred lips.

The feral animal dashes around the small room, emerald eyes wide, fangs showing and claws unsheath. It howls and arches its back as it realises its trapped between the closed door and him.

Nikto scrambles to his feet, swearing a string of colourful curses that echo against the concrete walls. His jaw tightens. He wonders if he can turn the doorknob to kick it outside without being inflicted with any more injuries.

Goosebumps form on his arms when a deep rumble emits from it, as if it’s charging up an attack. He eyes the AK-47 propped against the wall on the other side of the room. Of course the one time he leaves a firearm out of reach is when he needs it most.

Tentatively, he takes a step forward and in a whirlwind, the infernal creature resumes its frantic scrambling.

It throws itself up onto the bed, rumpling the messy sheets further and jumps on his nightstand. In its rampage of destruction, it knocks the full bottle of vodka over.

It shatters loudly on the oak floor. Large and tiny shards of glass scatter in all directions as the liquid seeps through the planks.

Nikto, who is usually able to repress his anger and known for his stoic composure, lets his vision go red and a roar of unrestrained rage erupts.

He will gut this mangy stray then dump its entrails on Rodion for putting him through this. He has done far worse for less.

The bedroom door creaks open and Devil Incarnate finally dashes out.

A dishevelled Maxim peeks his head and a broad shoulder in, sleep clouding his eyes. “Can you not make so much fucking noise this early?” Then his gaze shifts to the spilled alcohol and groans. “You’re not wasting anymore of the vodka again,” he says and slams the door shut with a resounding thud before Nikto could redirect his fury at him.

He is left to simmer in the aftermath and he swears to drag Rodion’s face across the broken glass if that imbecile doesn’t clean this up.

~~~

It seems an illness has overtaken his comrades.

With its fur clean and brushed, they dote on the cat at every chance it decides to show itself. Regal grace that laid beneath the grime is now allowed to shine. It moves with the arrogance that all cats possess as it struts around the house.

“Oh, what a cute kitten.”

“Look at its shiny gemstone eyes! What a pretty girl.”

Running their fingers through the fur as they coo and play with it. All three of them mull over what to name it. As if it’s a newborn baby and they’re first time parents.

“How about Mishka?” Dmitry asks as he strokes its back. “Look at its silky coat! Nikto, you have to feel this.”

Maxim scratches his stubble. “I prefer Nina.”

“Satan,” Nikto offers, gaze not leaving his book.

“It’s a girl,” Rodion’s faraway voice interjects from the bedroom.

“Baba Yaga.”

“Doesn’t really suit her… Princess?” Maxim suggests.

Nikto flicks to the next page. “Gluttony.”

“I think Anastasia fits this beauty.”

“Garbage Eater.”

That night, he pulls the covers over him with the feline nowhere in sight.

But dawn finds that yet again the whiskered intruder found its way onto the bed near his feet.

Less scratching and hissing this time. He’s able to expel it with only an attempted swat at his arm and minimal destruction. No caterwauls of wildness, or pointed teeth and claws tearing at his blankets thankfully.

~~~

They take pictures and record videos of the nuisance doing the most inane drivel and send them to each other, including Nikto. As if he can’t see the damned cat himself. At this rate, they would probably snap an image of its excrements and praise it for defecating outside by the end of the week.

The cat takes the greatest liking to Dmitry. It’s no mystery why. Twirling about his legs for food at all hours of the day that it’s not sleeping.

And the meowing.

It doesn’t shut up. Always whining, always mewling. Like an alarm siren demanding more and more meals.

The short period where it is not doing that, usually when one of the Bale brothers has the little gremlin on their lap, massaging the soft fur around its ears  — it purrs loudly. Impeccably imitating a broken lawnmower.

Nikto has no trouble tolerating most discomforts — the filthiness of a barracks, the lack of sleep during a long operation, numbness from the biting cold of Russian winters. He would endure all of it again over this.

Nobody else seems to be agitated by it. Madness has infected everyone but him. No longer can Nikto read a book or relax with a good bottle of vodka in peace. He enjoyed his lone shifts a little more than the rest of the team before. Solitude is always freeing. 

Now, it’s his only solace for true rest.

His equipment, his bed, the whole house, is filled with stray strands of fur. Irritating his nostrils and ruining his clothes. He briefly considers murdering the cat and the idiot that brought it home when he finds a nonhuman hair in his half eaten soup.

The last straw that solidifies their insanity to him is when the living embodiment of chaos vomits a wet furball on the sofa.

They will throw the cat out now for sure. Nikto has no doubts about it.

Except, that does not happen.

They did not throw the cat out.

They mutter words of comfort and pat it on the back, cleans up the mess and offers it a treat.

Nikto occasionally catches the feline watching him from some dimly lit corner. A spark of intelligence in its big round eyes. As if it secretly taunts him, before prowling away.

The following night, he scours his room, getting on all fours to check under his creaking bed frame. His bloodshot eyes strains against the darkness and finds only dust bunnies. No furry form with a demonic glint in its jade irises. Satisfied, he switches off the light and crawls in, the chill of the night seeps through the small crack in the window.

Yet, come morning, the relentless animal inhabits his sheets, purring with satisfaction.

It amazes him that it is able to burrow up so close as he slept again — with him being none the wiser, considering how much of a light sleeper he is. Nikto makes a mental note to seal the window. Clearly the sliver of opening for fresh air is too much to ask for.

He lets out a bone weary sigh, running a hand over his scarred face and rubs his temple. It can stay for now.

It’s not being overtly infuriating. It barely takes up any space. The man observes its sleek fur shining almost golden in the sunlight. Is it as soft as they all say it is?

He reaches for it, his fingers lightly brushes its tail and it lets out a groan of discontent, hopping off the bed, onto the windowsill. It slinks away, landing on the bushes outside.

Nikto watches the raised fluffy tail disappear past the treeline and he pushes the pane fully shut with a resounding snap for tonight.

“She’s nearly done with her moult,” Dmitry comments as he sweeps the tumbleweeds of fur out the front door. There are clumps of it stuck on foliage, mixing with the twigs and leaves.

It’s visually revolting.

When asked why he doesn't simply throw it in the trash, Dmitry says it makes the birds happy to use it for their nests. 

Birds don’t nest this close to winter, you moron. Nikto would have loved to retort, only, he realises he doesn’t have the energy for it anymore.

The one upside to the neverending mountain of inconveniences is there seems to be a decrease of rat sightings inside. Perhaps, it’s not as lazy as Nikto originally thought.

He scowls at the empty packet of potato chips left by Rodion on the coffee table. The cat is now far from being the most useless individual in the house.

He lies awake in his bed, watching the shadows of the tree branch right outside his window dance on the wall as the wind jostles it. Sleep has trouble taking him like most days.

As he is about to drift into unconsciousness, an ear grating yowl echoes in the living room through the walls, loud enough to wake the dead.

Nikto huffs and rolls onto his stomach.

It continues. The sounds of the kitchen’s trash can being rummaged and the occasional meow of discontent prevents him from dozing off.

He’s determined to ignore it, maybe yell at someone else to feed it but realises it’s probably useless. Dmitry can sleep through a bombing. Maxim is likely comatose from drinking and nothing less than a gunshot will wake him.

He sits up, fingers reaching for his balaclava, fully intending to throw some biscuits in its food bowl so it can leave him alone.

The moment he pries open the door, the feline sprints in and beelines underneath his mattress.

Nikto narrows his eyes, tired brain is slow to process what exactly occurred. A defeated exhale leaves his lips and pushes his door shut, returning to bed.

He has grown to expect the cat to claim the territory beside his left foot and is careful not to nudge it come morning.

~~~

Frantic scratching on worn oak is like fingernails on a chalkboard, agitating Nikto's taut nerves. It wasn't just the sound, but the urgency behind it.

He’s not the only person home, someone else can let it out.

He tries to ignore it and focus on his task. Cleaning firearms is a silent and soothing experience. It helps to clear his mind when he needs it most.

The scraping intensifies.

Nikto unclenches his jaw — gently places down the bolt carrier and oil stained cloth, and stands up.

Boots thudding on the floor as he marches to the source of the noise. 

The cat paws at the front door and wails. Wanting to be let out. It looks at Nikto as he turns the corner. Its face saying, please I need to leave.

I need to leave right now.

He unlatches the steel lock and pulls the door open. The feline hesitates, its miniature nose twitching, testing the cool air and the scents wafting in.

Frosty blue irises flash in anger. “You wanted to leave? Then go!” His free hand gestures to the open space outside.

Seconds stretch into a minute.

It stands there. Peering outside. Then, with a flick of its tail, turns and walks away, returning to its favourite spot on the kitchen counter by the window.

Nikto watches it, a mixture of confusion and realisation settling in his chest. It gives him a side eye that speaks volumes before it lays down and gazes out the glass.

He had served this creature. Catered to her whims. Ungratefulness aside, he feels used.

~~~

Nikto leaves for his shift just like any other night. Familiar weight of his rifle in one hand. Vodka in the other. Stars glittering in the sky.

He settles down at his usual spot in the outpost overlooking the area he’s meant to guard. As he’s about to peel back the fabric of his mask to take a sip, a crunch of dry leaves alerts him to a presence not too far from his left.

Drink forgotten, muscle memory and instincts take over, he raises his gun in the direction of the intruder. Two glowing orbs look back at him, and then an inquisitive meow.

Low and behold, it’s Garbage Eater.

Exasperation washes over him. He lowers his firearm and stares at it.

The cat saunters up to his feet, rubbing its face on his boots.

Nikto silently grieves his allotted hours of privacy robbed away and sits back down. How did it even follow him? He was not as alert as he usually is compared during a mission, but for it to have not been detected since he left the house is a feat.

Surprisingly, it keeps a respectable distance. Choosing to lick its hand an arms length away.

He finally gives in. The Russian reaches out to run a hand over its back. A throaty groan of protest erupts.

Nikto stops. Fair enough. He doesn’t like being touched either.

As the night deepens, he offers little bits of chicken from his food container while they sit in tranquil company together. He will never admit to it if asked, but the presence of decent companionship is something he craves. Dmitry is pleasant and respectful, however he can be a little too worried more often than not. That man is not subtle. Nikto catches every glance of concern, every time his lips pull into a hard line.

Animals don’t do that. They don’t have any questions of his mental state barely held back on the tips of their tongues.

Sometimes when it gets too quiet, his thoughts can be overwhelming. Fragmented memories from his past come slithering back. Lately, he has been unable to keep them at bay.

Every now and then, a new door opens, and he often doesn’t like what comes out of it.

Maybe it senses his mood, or maybe it’s just cold, it inches closer to sit beside him for the remainder of the shift. Its green eyes full of concern.

When they return to the house together, the cat doesn’t have to sneak into his bedroom.

~~~

Tiny gifts in the form of dead rats are deposited in his quarters every so often. He could dispose of it normally, but he throws them into Rodion’s room. It grants Nikto a small bit of satisfaction whenever a screech of disgust sounds throughout the house, usually after that man returns from his shift.

A week passes and Nikto wakes up with a feather duster-like object in his face.

It seems that the cat, perhaps emboldened in the darkness, gained some courage and moved upwards long past midnight. She sneaked up close beside his chest as he was sleeping. Her padded foot, soft and warm, rests against his bicep with an easy pressure, tail tickling his cheeks.

She had stuck to the end of his mattress every day before this.

Her forehead nudges his hand, seeking contact, and she rubs her long whiskers against his open palm.

Sundown arrives sooner, the days grow colder and Nikto quickly discovers she likes to be squashed by his arm.

The cat blinks and carefully leaps over him to situate herself in the small space between him and the wall. She sniffs Nikto’s hand curiously and rubs her cheeks against it before rolling into a ball. He buries his fingers into her soft fur and closes his eyelids.

He knows she only pursues his company for his warmth. He doesn’t mind it. His nail traces patterns in her coat and she stretches languidly. Maybe it's not just her seeking him. Maybe he craves the physical touch too.

It has been too long, he realises, since he has hugged another living thing. To feel the pulsing of a heartbeat against his fingertips. It is not so bad afterall.

The even vibration of her purrs lulls him to a dreamless slumber.

He hears the rhythmic clacking of claws on the hardwood floor before the cat jumps onto the armrest. She puts a gentle paw on Nikto’s forearm and meows.

Nikto hums, the words of his fantasy novel momentarily blurring. “What do you need this time?” he grumbles.

Everyone else left ten minutes ago, a rarity. He has plans to finish this book today.

Unfazed by his hollow annoyance, she steps onto his lap and does a few circles before settling down.

He shifts in his chair, trying to find a position that’s more comfortable for them both. “I’m reading a story, do you want to hear it?”

She looks at him knowingly and yawns. Nikto clears his throat, he begins reading with a soft voice that feels unfamiliar, it has been a long time since he last used this tone.

At some point, her eyes drift close and her breathing deepens, yet he continues.

Nikto couldn't help but see the similarities they share. They both exude an independence born out of necessity. He runs a calloused thumb over her old scars. They’re both survivors. No other person he met has understood it truly. Though with the way she regards him, the reserved man thinks she might.

~~~

Nikto takes the last bottle of Five Lakes on a hunt with him before Maxim could — he can have whatever slop is left.

It’s been years since he had hunted, nevertheless, he still remembers how to track deer and rabbits.

Gloved hand securely clutching the cool glass, he ventures further east.

People argue that vodka isn't for taste. Nikto disagrees. 

He values the smooth, barely detectable flavour, a welcomed change to the generic liquor he usually endured on duty. To him, the subtle burn is appreciated. He doesn’t think his alcoholic comrade can tell the difference.

It’s not that he can’t handle the harsh taste, he would simply rather get drunk with a minimal amount of hangover.

He’s not surprised when he hears the rustle of grass and the well-accustomed to call of his four legged companion behind him after he crouches down to inspect the gnawed on vegetation.

She trots up, her sleek form brushing against his thighs and investigates the leaves, sniffing it with a delicate nose.

“Can you hunt rabbits as well as rats?”

She flicks a ear and chirps in response.

Nikto takes that as a yes.

Undeterred by the distant rumble of thunder above, they proceed further, the sparse canopy offers little protection as tiny droplets soon begin to rain down upon them.

Eventually, the soil grows too damp for her liking and she tries scaling up his leg, tips of her claws latching on to his thigh muscle through the thick fabric.

She advances quickly, her pointed nails has no trouble finding purchase on the straps and gear tied to him. Nikto hisses and grips her to his chest with his forearm before she can make it any higher.

She calms instantly, feeling secured in his solid hold.

The mild drizzle subsides quickly, leaving the forest dripping and smelling of fresh earth. However the once stray Siberian forest cat has no desire to return to the damp ground.

He purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “Fine.”

He can’t use his hunting rifle with one hand and he refuses to let her on his shoulders. Daylight is about to leave anyway. Won’t be a terrible decision to return.

As the sun dips below the horizon, dousing the hills with the warm colour of fire, Nikto observes the sky and settles on the grass, Garbage Eater curling up on his lap in content silence — he thinks that having a pet cat isn’t the worst thing in the world.

[ninzied]

wip wednesday

Some might find this part of the job tedious, but Henry enjoys it most of the time. It’s a welcome change to the rigors of fieldwork: some peace and quiet over tea, maybe a nice book or two while he’s at it.

The peace and quiet, though, are key. And Henry has frankly known neither of those things since entering this particular safehouse.

The whistleblower is a government aide. The senator he worked for is standing trial for alleged ties to the Russian mob, and until all that gets sorted out, the aide is under Henry’s protection.

Which, Henry is starting to realize, poses quite the conflict of interest. Because this man, this Alex Claremont-Diaz, might just be the death of him. Literally.

Unless, of course, Henry kills him first.

tagged by: @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @getmehighonmagic on this fine wednesday thank you ♡

tagging: @blueeyedgrlwrites @carrythesky @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @eusuntgratie

@everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @garglyswoof @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @maxbegone

@myheartalivewrites @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @porcelainmortal @piratefalls

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @theprinceandagcd

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Hi hi! I’d love to know more about Asset Codename: Bricks! Feel free to elaborate on anything you want, I’ve literally been obsessed with this wip since I first read it!

Ah, Bricks! My darling and my delight! Veronica "Bricks" Mason is a CIA asset, specializing in infiltration. Didn't she say her name was Ericka in the WIP Wednesday? Yes! Because I was still working out how I want her to exist in the universe lol.

Have an alternate intro!

CW: Objectification, canon-compliant violence

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters, looking down the sight.

The big house on the private island is picture perfect, right out of a vacation guide. Two stories, floor to ceiling windows, and an absolute goddess of a woman lounging by the pool. Soap clocks one guard on the edge of the patio facing out, makes sure there’s no one else, and looks back at her.

Her dark skin glistens in the sun, and her curly hair shines. The tiny bikini she wears barely covers anything, bright pink as it is. He can’t exactly see through her sunglasses, but he gets the impression that her eyes are closed. Which is good, because once they break the tree line, she’ll have a clear view of them.

“Got a fuckin’ civilian,” he reports.

Price makes an exasperated sound. “Civilian?”

“Hen by the pool,” he confirms. “…No weapons.”

“How can you-” Gaz’s voice cuts off as he sucks in a breath. “No, I see her. Goddamn.”

Ghost’s voice rumbles, “Hold until she’s clear.”

Gaz mutters, “Why do the baddies always end up with evil sons of bitches?”

“Money,” Simon and Price answer at once. Price continues, “Nice view, though.”

“Cannae complain about the delay,” Soap says, letting himself take a long moment to admire her breasts. “Wouldnae mind a chance wit’ a bird like her.”

“Doubt you could 'andle ‘er,” Ghost chuckles.

“Away wit ye,” Soap grumbles.

All of them go silent when the woman stretches her arms above her head and sits up to grab her drink from a little table. And then she stands and walks over to the guard. He turns to her when he hears her voice, and walks to meet her at the corner of the house.

Soap will not admit that staring at the way her arse swallows the thong bikini is why he misses what happens next. One moment the woman is sipping her drink and smiling, and the next the man’s silenced gun is in her hand and his body topples into the hedges.

“What the fuck?” Gaz hisses.

And then she places the gun and her drink on the bar by the sliding patio door. She opens it, stands in the doorway with her back to the pool, and holds up a closed fist. She gestures: four fingers to the right, three to the left. Then she steps inside, turns left, and strolls past the floor to ceiling windows until she’s out of sight.

The door is left open.

“Let’s move,” Price growls.

Clearing the house is easy. Ghost and Gaz head right, Soap and Price follow the woman and run into two guards, easily dispatched. They find a third with a neat bullet hole between his eyes, on his back on another small patio.

And then they hear a woman’s shriek of terror.

Heart racing, Soap takes point as they ascend the stairs. In his ear, Ghost confirms that he and Gaz have dispatched four guards and are also making their way up. They clear two empty rooms, then hear a frantic voice.

“I don’t know,” a woman sobs. “I was by the pool, I just wanted another drink! And then I turned the corner and Ivan! Vanya was-! He’s-!” The voice is wracked by sobs.

“Fuck.” And that’s the target’s voice, Tarasovich. He snarls something in Russian, then reverts to English. “We need to get to the car, now.”

“Don’t leave me,” the woman’s voice cries, “Please, oh god what are we going to do?”

“To the car, you stupid woman,” the Russian snaps. “I will have Sasha call the pilot, we need to-”

Ghost and Gaz appear at the other end of the hall as Tarasovich chokes on his next words. There’s a scuffle, and a thud. At Price’s tap on the shoulder, Soap breaches the door, gun raised.

He can’t help but curse as he circles left and Price goes right, guns trained on where the woman has Tarasovich’s in a choke hold from the back. The man is bright red and struggling, but her legs lock his arms to his sides, ankles crossed over his solar plexus as his legs kick wildly.

Soap is dimly aware of Ghost and Gaz filing in, guns trained on the pair as he runs out of air and his struggles slow. His arms twitch, and then his legs kick once, twice. And he slowly goes limp.

“Rope’s in the top drawer on the left,” the woman huffs, not letting go. Price opens a drawer and pulls out a neatly wrapped bundle of thick, soft-looking, braided, red rope. He approaches the woman, and she dumps Tarasovich to the side. She stands and adjusts her bikini as he ties the man’s legs together and his hands behind his back.

When Price stands, she grins. “Hey there, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Bricks,” Price says, his own grin splitting his face as he pulls her in by her hips. Her arms settle around his neck and she smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Laswell didn’t tell us you were our contact.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she laughs. “And who can turn down a trip to a private island?”

On the floor, the Russian grunts and starts twitching awake. Bricks steps over him and saunters over to Ghost.

“Hello, handsome,” she purrs.

Soap tries not to let his jaw hang open like a muppet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ghost sounds affectionate when he answers. “’ave fun skippin’ around in the buff, then?”

“You like it?” She turns in a little circle, wiggles her ass at him. “I know you prefer orange, but it felt like a pink kind of day.”

“Like your arse in and out of anythin’, lovie,” Ghost rumbles, pulling her close with one arm and lifting his mask up over his nose. “Give us a kiss.”

Soap looks to Gaz for confirmation that this is really happening. The other man looks just as floored as their lieutenant and this Bricks woman share the kind of kiss that reminds him of just how almost naked she is. Soap clears his throat and turns away.

[skyfallscotland]

20 Questions for the Writers Tag Game!

I was tagged by @caeli0306

1. Total number of AO3 works

Nine!

2. Total AO3 word count 985,672! We're about to crack the mil, baby! And in just over a year, too 🥺💗

3. Fandoms I've written for

So many! But if we keep it to works currently posted: ACOTAR & The Empyrean series.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Truth & TalonFear & FlameMacchiatoFurykeep quiet (nothing comes as easy as you)

5. Do I respond to comments?

Yes, always! I love receiving them, so replying is the least I can do 💗

6. What has the angstiest ending?

...Truth & Talon, actually...

No, I'm just kidding....mostly... 👁👄👁 I'm saying Dangerous Devotion. 7. What has the happiest ending?

Fury, I think.

8. Have I received hate?

Not recently/in the Empyrean fandom (unless you count people telling me they're disappointed with my choices, lol, shoutout to that one girl who was sad Remi wasn't a virgin!) but I have before for sure.

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Sure. What kind like...kinks? Praise kink? Cockwarming? What do you mean what kind? 😭 The hot kind 💗

10. Do I write crossovers?

I have before, but I don't have any currently published.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

Multiple times, lol. she's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Honestly though, please don't do this. It's not a nice feeling. It doesn't help you, either, or anyone else. Wouldn't you rather contribute something new to the fandom you're in? 12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Some of my older Tolkien works were translated into Russian and I've had offers for Remi's Version, but I prefer that translations stay on AO3 (with very limited exceptions) which I suppose limits some people.

13. Have I ever co-written a fic?

I mean, most of my ideas are bounced off @justallihere and we throw dialogue/ideas back and forth so we'll give her... 12% of the credit for my next work. But no, I've never properly co-written anything. I feel like it would be weird, right? Unless you're writing a POV each?

14. What is my all time favorite ship?

Xaden Riorson/Remi Sorrengail 😌

15. A WIP I'll never finish?

I really hope to finish the things I've started so far. I have a few on the go, but the brain does what it wants. Tattoo-artist Xaden is sitting right on the edge there. I have 10k words of a scribe Violet AU that I might never pick up again, so let's say that.

16. Writing strengths?

Feelings, apparently. Lots of people tell me I make them cry, lmao.

17. Writing weaknesses?

Battles, action, fight scenes. I hate them. I hate them so much I'll write in storylines that change the canon universe so I can skip them completely. Ick.

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

I just write, for example, 'he said in Tyrrish' after the dialogue, I like that sort of thing, I think it's indicative enough without doing all italics and strange indicators like people used to back in the day, lol.

19. First fandom I wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. Very short lived. Was told it was "the worst fic I've ever read in my life" and that was that. I was maybe thirteen at the time 😌

20. Favorite fic I've written?

I cannot and will not pick a favourite child, but I will say Fury is very close to me. It got me back into writing and it came at a time in my life where I was really struggling and finding who I wanted to be and really changing my life. Without Tessa, there wouldn't be Remi 💗

I feel like everyone I know has already been tagged by someone, so I'll just open it to the floor for anyone who wants to participate 🤷‍♀️

[cljordan-imperium]

BADLY SUMMARIZED WIP POLL

Started by the always awesome, psuedo-son of mine, @blind-the-winds

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they'd be most likely to read. Multiple/all/none options are completely optional.

Apparently 12 is the max 🤣😂🤣😂

Soft tagging - @saltysupercomputer @cillmequick @raincoffeeandfandoms @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @autumnalwalker @there-goes-thefighter

[yabagofmilfs]

ticking clock WIP please!

wip list

a non-hockey omegaverse au (don't look at me) where Zhenya is a grad student who teaches yoga classes on the side and Sid coaches youth hockey. they're essentially married and have agreed they want kids but not for a few more years when Zhenya's graduated and things are a little more stable.

but. someone's biological clock starts ticking pretty loudly, and it's not Zhenya's. (Sid keeps going into rut off cycle.)

His yoga class ran late—the savasana too good for Zhenya to cut it off when they hit the hour mark—so by the time he’s locking up the studio, the tips of the trees are already beginning to flare pink and orange. He cuts through the cemetery on his way home even though it’s a longer route, partly because it’s a nice night and he’s enjoying the summer breeze on his bare legs, but mostly because he's not above going out of his way to get a good photo of the sunset for his instagram. 

Besides, he’s got no reason to hurry. Sid won’t be home from practice for a couple more hours. Sometimes Zhenya stops by for the pleasure of watching him get chirped into the ground by a bunch of pre-teen girls, but tonight the most he’s up for is his DVR full of Russian soaps on the couch. Between mid-terms for his students and mid-terms for himself—oh, the joys of grad school—it’s been a few very long weeks, and he’s looking forward to a weekend of doing absolutely nothing that requires the use of his brain. 

He’s considering the merits of a quiet bath before his couch rot while he digs for his keys, and barely has them out of his bag when the door of their apartment flies open and he’s dragged unceremoniously inside. His involuntary squawk is muffled by Sid’s mouth, and all Zhenya’s kneejerk fight or flight is drowned in the taste of him. Sid’s hands are rough on him, wrists rubbing hard over his neck, scenting him almost frantically. Zhenya’s brain feels fogged up, his body gone from zero to fuck in the space of a breath, but he’s got just enough presence of mind left to recognize that something feels off.

“Uh, hi,” he says breathlessly, pulling away and baring his neck for Sid’s mouth. Sid zeroes in on his mark, growling low in his chest when he tastes and smells the scent blocker instead of Zhenya. “Jesus—what’s happen to you?”

“You weren’t here,” Sid mumbles against his neck, licking and sucking at Zhenya’s gland until it pulses like a heart under his skin. “Couldn’t find you.”

“It’s Friday, you’re have—” It hits him then, what it is. The scent is thick, he can taste it in the air, it sets his teeth on edge and lights up all his nerves. The hair on his arms is standing up, his skin so sensitive it almost hurts where Sid is touching him. Shit. 

Rut. How the fuck—

[loserchildhotpants]

hello i am sooooooo sad and lethargic and sick and it would make me soooooo happy if you gave my exhaustively researched Titanic!AU w destiel and samwena, Three Princes, a read ; A ;

i didn't put warnings on it (for Reasons) but also jsyk do not STOP reading before the epilogue :)))))

but look! i made art for it and there's songs for each chapter and switching POVs and there's extensive smut and there's booze smuggling and dancing and tragic backstories and pining and all sorts of stuff!!!

is Cas a Russian priest? almost! does Dean have Stage 4 Mommy Issues? you bet! does Sam sweat loudly around a milf that could kill him w a glance? more than once! is Rowena complex and morally grey while still maintaining a likable charm? i - i mean, god i hope i worked really hard on this one, guys!!

if u give it a chance, leave a comment on it or let me know what u thought of it here or on the cursed bird app - my focus is shot rn bc of meds and illness so i can't really get any further w my current WIPs atm and i need external validation or i shall simply whither away to dust on the wind T A T

imma tag folks (if u want me to remove u from the list lemme know slkdhfj this feels a little brazen of me to tag people ?? but everyone im tagging seems so nice and supportive and im a poor little meow meow rn so)

@queerstudiesnatural @starcrosseddeancas @casblackfeathers @casdeanel @emeraldcas @castiel

[prettyboybuckley]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @saybiwithme @bi-buckrights @zainclaw

How many works do you have on ao3?

160

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,070,239

What fandoms do you write for?

I've mostly written for 9-1-1, though I started off with Shameless (6 fics) and I have written some for Teen Wolf (5 fics). There's one 9-1-1 crossover with Schitt's Creek.

Top five fics by kudos:

parents always yelling (telling us to get our acts together)

i just want something to hold on to (and a little of that human touch)

I will come to you (even in my sleep)

open up again (i believe in second chances)

exes and the oh's

Do you respond to comments?

Always, even if it takes me months. I actually just caught up again (there's still a bunch to go, but right now the oldest is 17 days ago instead of 250 days...). It's just a rule I have for myself, and even with the backlog I've kept it up so far, so I'm not going to stop doing it now.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm not a big fan of angsty endings, I generally try to at least make it a hopeful ending or, in the case of the college au, use an epilogue to fix things.

But I guess sunny skies & summer highs qualifies as an angsty ending simply because of the cliffhanger (and yes, there is still going to be a continuation, I'm working on it 🙈).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Choosing one out of 160 is really hard, but I think tell me, will you stay or will you run away is definitely one that deserves a mention here, because it already has a happy ending and then the epilogue just makes it even better 🥰

Do you get hate on fics?

Not commented on the fic itself, no. I've had some people talk shit about my fics on twitter, though, and not even vaguely but calling me by (user)name.

Do you write smut?

Is grass green? Yeah, I write smut 🤭 Thanks to two times kinktober, I have 95 explicit fics, by far the most used rating for my fics.

Craziest crossover:

let's have some fun tonight is my 9-1-1/Schitt's Creek crossover fic for 9-1-1 Rarepair Week, and my only crossover fic

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

My head over feet Buddie valentine's two-parter got posted as one chapter in Wattpad work with over 30 fics once. Filed a DMCA and Wattpad took it down within two hours.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Two of my fics have been translated into Russian afaik, one on ao3 and one on Ficbook

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope. It may be a nice challenge for the future? Not sure who I'd do it with.

All time favourite ship?

Gotta go for Buddie on that one, lol. Especially if you look at my writing history. But I often tend to hyperfixate on one ship at a time (current reading obsession is McDanno)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Buck's POV of if love is art then you might be my masterpiece. I really want to, but at this point it's been two years since the original so I don't know if it'd be worth it either. (I know not everyone was happy about how I ended it, but I doubt any of them are still waiting for more). Writing a different POV of the same fic takes an amount of planning that my brain just really struggles with. And I could pick up where the last chapter (before the epilogue) picks up, but I think that way there would be some crucial information about Buck missing.

What are your writing strengths?

I've been told quite a lot of times that I am good at keeping characters, well, in character, even when putting them in partial or complete AU's. Of course, what is in character or not is subjective, but I do always challenge myself to work as much of the canon backstory and personality into who they are in the AU as possible.

And I like to think I'm pretty good at writing smut.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm terrible at pacing, which multiple of my long fics prove. It'll be drawn out first and then suddenly rushing. And being ESL I do struggle with things like sentence structure and grammar pretty regularly still.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

As long as there is some kind of translation provided somewhere I like it, but I'm not so quick to use it myself. Not beyond a few Spanish words here and there (generally pet names between Eddie and his family we've seen on the show or the occasional curse word when I feel it fits better than an English one, but I usually need to employ help from Spanish-speaking friends for those).

First fandom you wrote in?

Shameless! I binged that right before I started 9-1-1 and combined with the creative writing minor I was doing, it was actually what got me back into writing in general and what made me write my first ever fic.

Favorite fic you've written?

My in your arms i feel safe-series (which I always lovingly refer to as the ace kink fic) is definitely one of my favorites simply because of how personal it is to me and for the reason behind me writing it in the first place.

Other strong contenders are i would've loved you forever (it's never enough but i wanted it to be) and i'm begging you, come home to me (Teen Wolf, Thiam)

tagging @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @loserdiaz @watchyourbuck

[malk1ns]

thank you for the tag, @couthbbg!!

Share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your most recent unposted WIP with zero context.

i'm tagging @yabagofmilfs @plethoriall @cuprun @cascara-soda @pr-scatterbrain @puckluckie @goodnightpuckbunny and YOU, if you're seeing this! please tag me if you post something!! :D

Sid’s posted up at the hotel bar with what seems like half of Hockey Canada talking his ear off when Team Russia walks in, and practically before he registers what he’s smelling his head has snapped around to watch them cross the lobby.

Whoever he was talking to chuckles, but Sid’s not paying attention, not when an omega who smells like that just walked into the building.

He narrows his eyes, glancing over the coaching staff and dismissing them out of hand—times have changed from when Sid was regularly playing against the Russians, but there’s no way they’d give an omega such a prominent, public-facing role. It could be a player, there have been rumors, but practices would be closed even if the omega they brought with them was nothing more than a waterboy.

Ah. There.

Sid squints, waiting impatiently for—woah, that player is really tall, Sid’s pretty sure that’s the guy that went fifth overall to Philly the year before, no way he’s only 6’3”—but once he moves out of the way he gets eyes on a pretty blonde woman, probably shorter than Sid by half a foot and absolutely stacked. Nice.

Sid pulls out his phone and starts typing. Practices are closed when there are omegas involved, sure, but if there’s anywhere he can throw his name around and get let into a facility when he shouldn’t, it’s in Halifax. He’s gotta meet that omega

[crimetimesteadicam]

ok @morporkian-cryptid tagged me to do this fic author interview so here we go...

if you would like to do this, i am officially tagging you, yes you, right now. tag me back so i can see your answers

1 How many works do you have on AO3?

i got 40

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,044,749

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

sorry like none of these are lupin iii. a blight on my lupin iii blog

Wabisabi (991 kudos) - Spirited Away. idk it's short and cute, read it

BONES OF BLACK MARROW (952 kudos) - Homestuck. the infamous cyoa cannibalism sex fic. scrolling through the things people say about it in the bookmarks is always so funny

Cum mortuis in lingua mortua (925 kudos) - Homestuck. no clue why it has so many kudos lol it was like the first long thing i've ever wrote (a whole decade ago??? jesus). it's a d&d/discworld joke

Vanitas vanitatum (914 kudos) - Homestuck. the same d&d/discworld joke except the LI is turbo depressed. notable for being the only fic i ever outlined and edited and that's why it whips

Supermassive Retinol Overdose! (677 kudos) - hey look, a lupin fic made it on here!

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do when i have something meaningful to say besides "thank you!" i don't have a lot of thoughts about my own work so therefore i tend to not respond if there's not a direct question :( my head is empty. i always respond to every single comment on the last chapter of longfics though because i'm always impressed people read that far lol. genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading all that

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

idk uhhhh i wrote a series once where two of the main couples break up at the end, but it wasn't really angsty

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

they all end pretty happily

7. Do you write crossovers?

if i did it was so long ago i don't remember it

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

no but people used to send passive aggressive hate about my art in fics once in a while. hasn't happened in like 2+ years

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes. every kind. EVERY KIND

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

a bot will sometimes scrape my high kudos homestuck fics and plant them on a junk ebook site

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah i think like 7 of them got translated into russian and do numbers on ficbook.net

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

in the past me and my friend would sit around a laptop and scream laugh write our way through crack fics

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

right now it's jiglup and fujilup

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

i finish almost all my WIPs because i'm a freak. if i don't finish a WIP it's because some dramatic life event happened. this has only occurred two times

15. What are your writing strengths?

im a funny binch

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

i don't outline or edit or re-read any of my fanfic. i just type it and then eyeball it for typos and then post it. i COULD outline and such to really make the narrative nice and tight, but i don't find it very fun to do (for fanfic) and this is like, my relaxing wind down hobby. i just wanna have fun haha. the only reason my fics like, make sense, is because i write at least one ending scene first thing and always aim for that, and also i write out of order so i kinda know the route of the story

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

it's fine if it makes sense to do it there as a narrative device

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

h-hetalia crack fic.....

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

once i figure out how to draw zenigata it's over for you bitches. luzeni hours on da clock

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

for lupin iii fic, i like Lightkeepers the best

[smolderingflame]

Oops I wrote a Supernatural Fic 'Take Me Home Tonight' (Castiel/Dean) By SmolderingFlame

Take Me Home Tonight by SmolderingFlame

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Supernatural

WIP

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Gabriel, Michael, Anna, Balthazar, Crowley, Benny Lafitte, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Jody Mills

Summary: It seemed like it was going to be just another crappy night for Dean Winchester, stuck working the front desk at his father's garage thanks to antiquated ideas of Omegas lacking mechanic skills. That was until a gorgeous car driven by an even more gorgeous Alpha pulls up needing a new battery.

Before he knows it Dean's whole life starts to change and Castiel Novak (or at least that's the name he's given) is much more than meets the eye.

Tags: Alternate universe, Assassins and hitmen, John Winchester being an asshole, Russian Mafia, Minor Character death, Crossdressing, Feminization, Russian Castiel, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Twink Dean Winchester, Slutty Dean Winchester, Tattooed Castiel, Protective Castiel, Good brother Sam, Sexism, Slutty clothing, Rough sex, Castiel loves Dean (and vice versa), Butt Plugs, Claiming, Knotting, Mating Cycles, Possessive Castiel, Romance, Comedy, Sugar Daddy Castiel, Sugar Baby Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester deserves nice things, Slut shaming, Cock slut Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester first kiss, Crime Lord Castiel, possible Mpreg, Older man/younger man, Daddy Kink

[anyreiart]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

How many works do you have on A03? 153 (but more are coming)

What's your total word count? 3,725,829 (also a lot more coming XD)

What fandoms do you write for? Mostly Supernatural but I also write Sherlock and Guardian (镇魂)

Top 5 fics by kudos: In A Mirror, Darkly (with @queerwolfsstuff): 3,068 Kudos

Playing With Fire (with @queerwolfsstuff): 1,748 Kudos

That Wasn't Supposed to Fucking Happen! (co-written with @queerwolfsstuff): 1,387 Kudos

The Heart of Ophelia (co-written with @queerwolfsstuff): 1,357 Kudos

Touch of Silence: 1,267 Kudos

Do you respond to comments? I wish I could respond to every comment but sometimes I don’t have the spoons and now I have over 4k of unresponded comments. I read and love all of them!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I’m a firm believer in a happy end, so I don’t really write angsty endings. I think the closest to an angsty ending it probably my short fic “Hello, Old Friend” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789934) where Cas and the Empty talk at the end of times.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them lol

Do you get hate on fics? I think in bookmark descriptions people hate more easily. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or if they just don’t know that we can see them. And those are annoying cuz you can’t delete them. I tend to block people though if they leave hate. In comments it’s more annoying concrit at times (like dudes, come on. It’s my fic, you didn’t pay me to write it. If you don’t like it, just leave.) But I would say 99% of the comments are really really nice and supportive.

Do you write smut? LOLOLOLOLOL… um, yes. @queerwolfsstuff and me also do a smut week sometimes (we have another one planned) where we post a smutty fic every day for a week. I also have a series of Short Stories that are all smutty: https://archiveofourown.org/series/342853

Craziest crossover?I have a crossover fic with SPN/Buffy that I will post this month! But I’ve written a lot of fusions and crossover fics before. My first one was a crossover with Angel/X-Files and NCIS LOL (It’s not on ao3 cuz I wrote it in my native language)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I think we all have fics stolen by now thanks to AI bots getting trained on our writing. I locked all my fics down for that reason so they are not so easily accessed anymore. There was also an app once making money from our fics by stealing all the links, hence why there is a disclaimer on my fics that they were uploaded on ao3 and if you read it somewhere else it’s stolen. I also co-wrote a fic with my bestie @queerwolfsstuff that was “controversial” for a few people because it had a poly ship in it. And someone who didn’t like that part of the fic wrote a very very very similar fic a bit later…

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes!! And I love that so much! Translating is soooooooooo hard (i know cuz I tried to translate my older fics to english and ughhhhhh) We (my writing partner in crime and me) have a few fics that are translated to Spanish, Russian and I think even Chinese!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? All the time! So much so that I despise writing alone T_T 

All-time favorite ship? I don’t have a favourite ship but I’ve written the most for Dean/Cas and Sherlock/John 

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?I have only one WIP on Ao3 and I write terribly slow (the torture of writing solo) but I’m so close to finally finishing it, so it will def. be done.

What are your writing strengths? World building

What are your writing weaknesses? Writing in a different language is really hard. I feel like constantly hitting a limit because my English skills only carry me to a certain point and not further.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I speak a few other languages so I love to sprinkle that in. The character I write the most knows all human languages so it is fun to use that!

First fandom you ever wrote in? Star Trek and the X-Files

24. Favorite fic you've written? I love them all but “In A Mirror, Darkly” will always have a special place in my heart. In terms of solo fics I think my favourite is “Guide My Way Through The Night” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969945/chapters/63132118) I’m very proud of that one.

I tag @casblackfeathers, @malicmalic, and everyone who wants to it!

[kay-elle-cee]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Hi hi hi! It's been awhile since I did something like this (I feel like I've just mostly been lurking around here lately), so thank you for the tag @annabtg!

AO3 Username: kay_elle_cee

1. How many works do you have on A03? 42!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 307,791.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter (Jily) and I'm sitting on a Willabeth oneshot for Pirates of the Caribbean.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

i'll be fine, i'll be good

Things That Haven't Happened Yet

A Thrill Divine, Down My Spine

it's (always) you

Fireside Chats <<<That’s a surprise!

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always! I'm the type of person who always leaves comments, and I love being able to personally chat with everyone who took the time to say something nice :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ooh that's hard because I write a lot of angst....it's gotta be Idolum and Fulcrum, right? I can think of two others still 😅 But I'm going with these, which are two sides of the same coin.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think A Thrill Divine, Down My Spine, specifically since it's a no-Voldemort AU friends-to-lovers situation.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have not (yet) and I'm super grateful for that. I know it'll come, statistically.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do! (God Kelsey from a year ago is SHAKING). I think usually I like to connect it to emotion even if it's a pwp situation, but overall I'd say it's pretty vanilla lol.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Technically no but also a character named Katherine Kelley made an appearance in my Newsies AU, and if you know, you know.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone asked to translate Things That Haven't Happened Yet into Russian, but I'm not sure if that ever happened.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Jily :) (Willabeth is also like, neck-and-neck).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I'm trying not to burden myself with a bunch of WIPs so I finish everything 🤞🏼 I have 2 fully outlined right now and I intend to finish!

16. What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue and pacing?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Description 🙈 Specifically scene-setting description.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don't think I could do it believably, but I love to see it done when it enhances the characters or plot!

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter. I somehow always find my way back.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Listen. Come in close. This will probably always change depending on when you ask me. I've, unsurprisingly, got restless waves rise and fall, my Jily Pirate AU on my brain lately. But also so much time and effort went into i'll be fine, i'll be good, and seeing that it's my most-kudosed fic brings me SO much joy, you can't imagine. <3

Tagging @jamesunderwater, @alittlebitofeverything23, @clare-with-no-i, @isahorcrux, @thequibblah, @possessingtheproperspirit, @emeralddoeadeer @nodirectionhome-ao3 @suzyq31 <3 if you feel like it!

[mixelation]

#5, #12 and #39 for the first askgame

get to know your fic writer

5. Do you like constructive criticism?

Talking about "constructive criticism" is often a trap, especially in fic circles, because everyone likes using this term but no one knows what it means. The word "constructive" implies utility to the writer and the writer's goals for their story; it does not mean the reader just says whatever they want "improved"/changed, no matter how nice or "helpful" you are about it. You cannot give constructive feedback to a writer unless you understand the context in which they wrote their fic and what their goals for it are. In other words, it is impossible to give "constructive criticism" unless the writer has actively communicated to you what they specifically want out of feedback. You must also then respect what the writer wants; giving feedback based on what you as a reader want out of a fic is unlikely to be useful to the writer unless their goal is to be as appealing as possible to your tastes (which.... don't assume that, jfc).

Many people in fandom cry "constructive criticism!" when they want to make demands from a writer to cater to their personal preferences, often with a little side of harassment. So, I might ask a question to readers with the hope of someone giving me actual constructive feedback, but no, I don't like "constructive criticism" in the way fandom at large uses it.

Also, sometimes the stuff I post was written on my phone on a bus, for my own entertainment. Why would I want constructive criticism on that?

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

I mostly write for my own entertainment. Sometimes the idea that someone will say something nice to me motivates me to push through on projects. Like, if I were 100% writing for myself, I would probably just not write a lot of otherwise "boring" scenes that are necessary for flow or info. But a lack of support probably wouldn't stop me from writing.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP.

from chapter 19 of Plasticity:

The filling of the first onigiri she bit into was incredibly spicy. She did her best to pretend it was totally normal, even as her sinuses started to run. The second onigiri was also spicy.  “I seem to have made a mistake,” Obito said, and then made an exaggerated noise of sucking snot back up into his nose.  “Why do you keep doing this?” Tori asked. “You know I like spicy food. It’s not going to work.” She was, actually, in tears. She shoved another bite into her face. She wanted to go buy more tea, but that would be admitting defeat.  “That’s why I keep doing it. Eventually it will work,” Obito replied, and he was close enough to her that she could see the rims of his eyes were red. “Russian roulette isn’t a fun game.” “Well, you’re playing it wrong.”