#and it's a trope that needs to burn

[io-lu-art]

Just some random, stupid idea I had during the middle of the night... so I started scribbling around...

Oh, dear Rey...

"Webtoon" format after the page break (I guess). You choose your fav.

(if the quality feels bad, it's because I started drawing this with a height of 1080 pixels in landscape format *cries*)

I am still debating whether or not to include this in my fanfiction. There are some shots missing, just to illustrate how anxious and hopelessly in love he is. Well, we'll see. I may or may not continue this.

The context? Do you even need it? Spoilers in the hashtags.

[edwinspaynes]

It's really funny that I consider friends-to-lovers one of my least favourite romance tropes despite 2 out of the 3 ships I would jump in front of a bus for being quintessential friends-to-lovers stories. Like, this trope just Does Not Hit until you DO IT RIGHT and then BLAM! Absolute God-tier wonderful perfection

[m-art77]

Do you guys ever think about how if redeemed!Durge pulls out of Gortash’s alliance after returning with Orin’s Netherstone that Gortash literally cannot rationalize their betrayal (and them now trying to kill him) by blaming their urge? Like how much of a complete mindfuck that would be for him. The Dark Urge just told him they’re 100% cured and now they’re trying to kill him? You know, the person who’s always been by their side, their partner in crime, their equal, and their (potential) lover; and now they’re trying to murder him. And prior to the amnesia, Gortash could always rationalize that if The Dark Urge tried to kill him one day that he could hand wave it as “they just couldn’t help themselves anymore” because of Bhaal’s hold on them. It doesn’t mean they wanted to.

But now, Bhaal is gone and The Dark Urge is moving in to kill him. There’s no way to rationalize it as anything else. The only person who ever cared about him is going to kill him, and he’ll die knowing everything they once had is completely gone. The Dark Urge doesn’t remember him. Their love for him died the moment Orin split their skull. The urge isn’t the reason they’re doing this. He’ll die knowing that they hate him.

[radishearts]

My kotlc enjoyers pspspspsppspspsppspspss have some sketches for a fic im writing :D (Before I Burn)

It’s set in precannon, around 20 years before the current TL (So like, the 90s) following Kenric and Oralies navigation of Elvish Bureaucracy, classicism and inter-species politics. Also Brant is his brother and Kenric is desperately trying to dispute ability restriction — I’ll put the summary in the replies but if ur interested give it a read

[masterjedilenawrites]

In Other Words: Hold My Hand - Chapter 1

Weee look at me, starting another story when I have so many others left to finish 🙃 To be fair, I started this one a while ago and fully intended to get it off the ground sooner. But, you know, life. So after a sudden burst of creativity and motivation (while caught in throes of my Hux BS), here we are, chapter one ready to be released into the world. Just don't ask me when chapter two will come...

Part One: Hold My Hand

Chapter One

Hux x fem!reader | 2.4k words

Content warnings: Mention of torture/interrogation, mention of childhood abuse

It was a mystery how you'd ended up in this exact spot you currently found yourself in. The sequence of events themselves were fairly straightforward. There'd been an unexpected skirmish between some First Order troopers and your band of Resistance fighters; you and your best friend Nat had jumped foolishly into the fray despite only just having started your combat training; the Order had unsurprisingly cornered the two of you... and then, in what she probably thought to be a brilliant move, your friend had convinced the troopers you wanted to defect and join the Order. Then there was a week of nasty interrogation to ensure your stories matched up and held true. Somehow you'd both been cleared, and now here you were, standing outside the office of who would be your supervisor aboard The Finalizer, waiting to be summoned in.

What had happened was clear enough. The mystery was understanding why it had all happened. How could there possibly be good in the galaxy when it had devised such a series of unfortunate events to set you down right here, in the thick of all you despised? How could you possibly hope to improve that galaxy from here, or at the least simply benefit your own life? There was a reason espionage and spies weren't used against the First Order - a reason you'd tried repeatedly to explain to your stubborn friend to no avail.

Damn her, you grumbled to yourself, though you knew you didn't fully mean it. Sure, she'd had the idea, but you'd gone along with it. You couldn't make her shoulder all of the blame.

A swooshing sound accompanied the sudden opening of the door in front of you. You stood at attention, coming face to face with a young officer in a smart-looking hat. He clutched a datapad in the crook of his arm as if he were keeping it there on a time-out.

He didn't seem to notice your presence until he had already stepped out of the room and made to follow the hallway to the right. He paused in a second of surprise, and then made a little scoffing noise.

"He's in quite a mood," he said and gave you a knowing look, though you weren't sure what you were supposed to know by it. "Good luck."

He swiftly stalked off, leaving the doorway in front of you open to the office beyond. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceilings inside, giving you a chance to scope out what you were walking into. Most of the room was bare up here by the door; too bare, like there was supposed to be more furniture but it had disappeared somehow. The back half of the room was more naturally filled. A large bookcase stood tall and proud along the back wall, boasting of thick tomes and unique trinkets. To the side was a low counter with a few liquor bottles and mixers. There was also a small box of some kind in the corner, with a carpeted top and a hole in the side. You weren't sure what it was for.

And placed before all of it, directly in the center, just before the threshold you now found yourself crossing, as if dividing the room between emptiness and warmth, was a large desk made of dark wood and brass furnishings. A lone chair sat in front of it for guests, while the office's owner sat in his own chair on the other side.

Hunched in his chair, was more like it. The position almost could have obscured his identity from you as you tried to get your nerves under control. But alas, the ginger hair still gave him away.

You choked.

"What," he drawled with annoyance, not bothering to look up from the work that occupied him on his desk.

Hux. The General Hux. The face of the First Order and all its terrifying advancements. He was to be your supervisor? What a cruel joke the universe was playing on you.

You stood in shocked silence, which seemed to annoy him further as he huffed and finally looked up. Whatever reproach he was prepared to give vanished as he took in your appearance.

"Who are you?" 

You swallowed hard under his gaze. Never in your life did you think you'd come face to face with this man, and now here you were, mere feet away, donning the uniform of his people and completely under his authority.

Oh you were going to kill your friend for this.

"I..." Your throat felt like it was constricting. Panic would soon overtake you if you didn't shake free of its grasp now. As you'd learned in your interrogation, it would not do to show any sign of weakness in this place, not even a bit of hesitancy. And you would need that strategy even more with General Hux watching you.

You cleared your throat quickly and straightened up further. "I believe I am to be your new assistant, sir. They sent me here to report for duty."

Hux regarded you for a moment and then leaned back in his chair with a quirked eyebrow. He didn't seem annoyed anymore, but there was a sort of sneering curiosity that took its place, and you weren't sure which you'd rather be dealing with in this moment.

"Ah, yes. Deserters from the Resistance. I was so surprised by the news, I had to see one of you for myself."

He paused to gauge your reaction, though you didn't have one. You were too preoccupied with keeping yourself standing upright in his presence.

"We don't get many rebels willing to join our ranks. Though when it does happen, it's always right at the moment they have a blaster to their heads. Curious, isn't it?"

You cleared your throat. "I suppose it is, sir."

"You will call me General," he said cooly.

"Yes, General," you obeyed promptly.

He studied you for a moment, no expression on his face to indicate anything he could be thinking. Surely he was suspicious of you; he'd be foolish not to be. And you suspected that's why you were to be his assistant. In case you were a spy of some sort. You'd be in proximity to a tempting amount of good intel, but wouldn't be able to do anything with it under the General's watchful gaze. He was clever one, you'd give him that.

Though what he was considering about you now was beyond you. Maybe he was changing his mind, saw the nerves you were so desperately trying to hide, deciding playing such a game with you wouldn't be worth the trouble.

"I expect an itinerary of the next day's events on my desk each evening by 8," he finally said. He quickly moved through his words as if he'd had to recite them numerous times, and you briefly wondered how many assistants this man had gone through before you finally realized you should probably be paying closer attention. "You will also maintain reports on the health of each department I oversee, filter any feedback or escalated concerns from the department heads, and share only the most important for my attention. You will accompany me to all non-confidential meetings and take down notes...."

He trailed off and sported a small smirk.

"Do you wish to take some down now?"

You quickly nodded, hating how he was already finding ways to subtly undercut your competency.

He opened a drawer and fished out a data pad, handing it over to you and gesturing to the opposite chair, all the while maintaining that smirk. You fiddled with the device and tried to quickly note down what he'd said so far. You could feel him watching you. Your fingers shook from the anxiety of it all.

When you finally looked up at him, his face was back into something more neutral. 

"Ready?" he asked softly. You realized he was being patient, an incredible relief to your nerves, so you tried for a smile with your response.

"Yes, General."

He nodded and continued, speaking almost a mile an hour as if through a well-rehearsed speech, and you did your best to keep pace. Your notes were a jumbled mess of various times and tasks, preferences and expectations. You hoped you'd be able to make sense of them later. One missed detail, and you suspected you'd be booted off the ship faster than you could say dank farrick.

"And finally," he said at last, and you couldn't help but let out the breath you'd been holding the past ten minutes, "this may go without saying but I shall state it anyway so we are perfectly clear. You will not be allowed access to outside communications."

He leveled a hard look at you, one that spoke volumes louder than his words.

"I have also waived your right to any leaves of absence. Until you have gained my full and complete trust."

You nodded, suspecting as much.

"And in all transparency, there is not a single soul in this galaxy who has managed to earn my full and complete trust. Do I make myself clear?"

You nodded again, unable to keep his gaze. A part of you was sinking at the thought. You were trapped aboard this ship. No sky, no sea, no trees. Just sterile walls and shiny floors and an endless expanse of empty space behind a viewport. You could very well die here and never feel sand beneath your toes again.

General Hux stood, and you quickly rose to match.

"That said, it will be to our mutual benefit for you to take this position seriously. I run a very tight ship so I expect nothing less than professional excellence from you."

"Yes, sir. General. Sorry. Yes, General."

He gave an almost imperceptible sigh through your flustering. You certainly weren't inspiring any confidence in your ability to do this job, not when you kept remembering how dangerously thin a line you walked here. And though you didn't exactly want to be here, you'd be damned if you were ever thought of as less than good enough.

"You are dismissed." He waved a hand as he sat back down again, his attention already returned to the stack of papers he'd been pouring over before your arrival. You were more than grateful to finally be allowed out of this situation. The emotions you'd been bottling in needed to be let out. You wasted no time in turning on your heel and scurrying away.

"Oh, one more thing," he said just before you could open the door to your freedom. "You'll be given the rank of Second Lieutenant. It means nothing other than to ensure you have proper security clearance to accompany me when needed. You can pick up your badge and insignia at the security office."

This information, as well as all you'd noted down, weighed on you as you finally made it out the door. You walked down the hall in a daze, not knowing where you were going, entirely too fixated on this bizarre situation you found yourself in. You were a Second Lieutenant aboard a First Order ship, serving directly under General Hux, and banned from even so much as glimpsing a life outside of this one. You'd never be able to see your friends or family again. In fact, you'd be helping fight against them now. Whatever service you performed for the General would be in service to the war he waged against your people.

You paused in your wandering to lean against the nearest wall, grateful that whatever part of the ship you were in didn't have much foot traffic. The side of your head rested against the cool steel walls and your eyes closed in a fight against the tears that threatened to burst forth. You focused on your breathing. In and out. In and out. No thinking, no feeling. Just breathe.

You stayed like this an undeterminable amount of time before slowly reopening your eyes and coming back to the present moment. How long the calming effects of your meditation would last, who knew, but at least you were now numb enough to get back to the tasks at hand. You'd need to find the security office. And your room, or bunks, or wherever they intended to have you sleep around here. And perhaps most importantly, you'd need to find your friend.

If not to ensure she was alright, than at least to give her a piece of your mind.

* * *

Hux watched as discreetly as he could the disappearing form of the woman who was to be his new assistant. Even after the door slid shut behind her, his gaze still lingered on the spot she had last been.

He'd come to expect timidness from all who found themselves in his presence these days. His reputation had grown quickly and held fast, much to his relief. He still felt like he'd came into this position, this war even, much too quickly to have any real sense of confidence about it. Not that he'd let anyone see, of course, which was why he was grateful he at least had the skill of being able to put on a good show, to mask the insecurities he privately fought. Years of abuse and neglect were to thank for that.

But this woman, this rebel-turned-deserter, was throwing him off. She had been timid, yes, but had also shown all the other telltale signs of someone wanting his approval. Compliance, politeness, even a bit of pride. As if she had been raised in an old Imperial household and came here to work her way up the ladder of power with the rest of them, but still viewing him with a sort of fearful reverence.

It perplexed him. To what end was she here? An honest wish to change sides seemed unlikely, which only left the option of her being a spy. But that didn't fit the facts well, either. As a spy, she'd either be a good actor and show no signs of fear, or she'd be terrible at keeping on a game face and have no tact at all. She displayed both. He didn't know what to make of her.

He sighed, realizing he'd been endlessly ruminating again, and as a result could feel that familiar tension of an oncoming headache in his forehead. He shook himself, as if that would dispel the strain, and tried to focus back on his work.

He'd made her his assistant for a reason, to keep an eye on her, and to an extent her friend. He'd figure out their intentions soon enough, he'd just need to interact with her more.

~ ~ ~

Everything Tag: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @error6gendernotfound, @theroguesully, @clonesimp, @techie-bear, @sleepycreativewriter

Baddies Tag: @call-me-a-fool, @theclonesdeservebetter, @the-mom-friend-dot-com, @pickle-rick-y, @Frost.Bytten (won't let me tag you 😢)

(Join my tag list here) (Or message me if you already filled out and would like to be added to this new fic)

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[nubimera]

I noticed that in all the ffs Ezra and Reader are already in an established relationship (and that's something I love, don't get me wrong! I'm always soft for the two of them together)

BUT

I can suggest: Ezra and Reader pining for each other?

Ezra and Reader who are emotionally close, giggly and happy whenever they are near each other.

The whole Ghost crew knows there's something between them, but neither Ezra nor Reader want to say something because "they're just friends, and he/they don't see me that way."

Then Ezra disappears, sending Thrawn into exile.

And the relationship between Ezra and Reader remains stuck in what "could have been" and "what will never be"

When Reader, along with Sabine and Ahsoka, finally finds Ezra, the meeting is all tight, endlessly long hugs and radiant smiles.

Obviously not a meeting between "just friends".

But at the same time it's obviously not a meeting between lovers. How could it be, when they didn't have the opportunity to be more than they were?

But at least, for the first time in years, Reader feels completely at peace, despite any imminent threat. They has finally found Ezra, and maybe that's enough.

[aparticularbandit]

For STS! Do you believe there are any particular tropes or themes you repeat in your work?

Yes.

I frequently explore themes related to identity (and the lack or construction thereof - often this is where second person comes in), so much about stories (metafiction is my bread and butter even in fanfic), immortality (and what that means/the consequences of it), loss/trauma/grief and how that can change/define a person, redemption arcs so many redemption arcs, and found family so much found family.

I'm also finding that I reuse - how do I word this - ugh, I want to call it the what is meat question, particularly within the context of seeing revolution as the answer to the world's problems - sometimes not revolution, but the radical options people take sometimes to try and fix things - whether they know (or care) that those radical options might also cause harm to other people around them.

That last one I think I do...more often than I like to think. I did it with Jessica Rabbit and the Toons Rights Fanatics (who decided to start turning Toons into reality (which led to Roger dying because he got turned into an actual rabbit) and then eventually started turning senators and whatnot into Toons to get their point across); I'm currently doing it with The Thin Line Trilogy in terms of (spoilers) Ryoko realizing that the world is just heading towards destruction and the only way to fix things is to Junko and Tragedy and rebuild, except that's still radical revolution and it's going to kill a lot of people; I have it in one of profic projects that was a little more ambitious than I could handle at the time.

But I think over and over again I go back to what does it mean to be human - whether that's in the form of personal identity or how other people react to it or what the stories we tell ourselves and each other say about what humanity is.

...that's a long answer. There's probably more.

Oh, also, and back scars. I frequently give people back scars. Just they have scars on their backs. It's just a thing.

[painsandconfusion]

Making Whumpee Unrecognizable

For all those whumpers on the run from caretakers and the law...

Tanning bed.

Eye color change (tattoo or oxygen exposure).

Remove one unimportant toe on each foot so they walk a little different

Hair cut and dyed. Or even destroyed follicles so it never grows again.

Burn off their fingertips so they touch things differently and leave no prints.

Break their nose.

Starvation.

Piercings and tattoos.

Break their leg. Badly. Enough that they walk a little different for the rest of their life.

Break their jaw - both sides. Let it heal outward, squaring the face.

In extreme cases, just burn their face. A lot. Let it melt into something completely different.

Tattoo lip liner or eye liner on in a subtle color to react the illusion of a different shape - permanently.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @meowsikbox @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @michaeltalks @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @astralrunic @cursedscribbles @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[victorluvsalice]

So. You know all those various ask games where you can ask someone to explain a current WIP, or write three sentences on a fic they're working on and then share them, or similar? Well, we're doing something like that over here, only I am vastly expanding what is on offer. Because while I generally only ever have two WIPs, I have a whole fucking LOT of ideas. So! Here is my mostly-Valicer-AUs-themed ask game for you all:

Send 💬/[conversation bubble] for me to ramble on about any of the below AUs for a bit

Send 🌈/[rainbow] for me to write three+ sentences of either a real or hypothetical fic for the AU

Your choices:

Actual WIPs

-->Londerland Bloodlines (currently working on "Downtown Queensland," but I'm willing to discuss other installments)

-->Valicer In The Dark (currently working on "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of," though I'm extremely willing to get into the VITD universe as a whole)

Things I Have Previously Discussed On Here

-->Modern AU Valicer (aka the source of most of those Not-Incorrect Quote things I did for a while)

-->Valicer Soulmates AU

-->Ever Ever After (that Four Victorians Riding A Roller Coaster fairytales AU -- yes, I came up with a title for the damn thing)

-->The Hypothetical Valicer Forgotten Vows AU

-->The Three-Player Childhood Friends Valicer In AMA AU (or, frankly, anything related to Smiler's Otherland stuff)

-->Fallout of Darkness (yes, this is actually still around! I am still playing Fallout 4 and making notes on it! I'm up to the point in the main questline where Victor has to hunt down a Courser, which he is doing as he completes the Mechanist questline)

-->This Hypnokinky Fantasy-Medieval Valicer One-Shot From OT3 Week (heed the hypnokinky there! It's not EXPLICIT explicit but it's fairly open about what's about to happen to Victor at the end)

Deranged AUs That Only Lived In My Brain -- UNTIL NOW

-->Dinner For Three, a Valicer AU based on the horror comedy film The Menu (I actually just came up with that title, despite how obvious it is)

-->Infinite Loops-Style Valicer AU (inspired by me finding the TV Tropes page for that series and going "wow, Corpse Bride would have a really short loop if it followed the time period that we saw in the movie...")

-->Valicer Changeling: The Lost AU (I've discussed Valice versions of this waaaay in the past, but this is a new Valicer variant that would be set in the modern day)

-->Some Thoughts On A BITD Smiler In Beneath A Broken Sky (not a full AU since the fic that it's based off of isn't complete yet -- this is just me with some ideas I came up with where a Smiler from a BITD-based world without a local Victor and Alice gets yeeted into the BABS setting -- oh, and the fic itself isn't visible unless you're logged into AO3, just fair warning)

-->The New Severance (Apple TV) AU That Is Strangling My Brain (this is ALL @penny-anna's fault, go read Welcome To The Panopticon, it is FASCINATING and gives me Valicer AU ideas for a show I've never even WATCHED)

There. Choice. Enjoy.

[somelokivariant]

There are more than enough beds but they choose to share one >>> one bed trope

[bellzsad]

someone recommend me romance fics (or books w romance subplots - e.g. the cruel prince) like better than the movies and just that vibe please i'm desperate

[bearlytolerant]

Why did I choose to write a slow burn?

To cause the yearning within myself.

[honeykngdom]

I don’t check the iruka x reader tag often .. but when I do, I am disappointed there’s never anything new 🥲

[sorenlionheart]

i am dangerously close to making my own interpretation of superman

[miniagula]

now why was it important to not show gayeon's response to ji being in a coma........