#and might like...have a wip with this in mind

[nvrhere]

dude finding dropboxes of deleted sterek fics sent me into a whole different state of mind…

like the number count of this tag on ao3 is NOT real!! there are so many fics out there and so many of us that still fucking love this ship

IN 2024??

like the amount of wips I have.. and that other people do too. we just need somewhere to put our love for them.

anyways, i might just have to create a sterek library site.

[thatloveislikea-star]

At @brighteststarz request, here are some starcest recs!!

These are just a few of my favorite complete fics, I ran out of steam because I read so much so I might do another list later 😂 a lot of these authors have WIPs that are really amazing, so check those out if you like to follow along

An absolute classic, Want, by Saras_Girl

So good, really interesting family dynamics in Rapture on the Lonely Shore by @tenrousei-kuroi, check out their other starcest too! Another one I love of theirs is Capacious as the Sea

The Mind of Madness by phantasmaraneae is so good I’ve read it so many times

Really really hot, includes James, Little Lion by @tracingpatternswrites

I thought family planning by heated_mausoleum was funny

Heat wave by heartshapedbathtub is one of the hottest things I’ve ever read, definitely read it if you like bunny stuff, they’ve written a few more fics too

Constellations series by Evandar, has two fics, both so good, also Toujours Pur is really sweet

Winner Takes All by @the-invisibility-bloke, it’s hot, it’s funny, it’s charming, it’s perfect

Pretty much everything by @faeries-withspirits , but some favorites are Cherry Waves, Morning Glory, Starbursts (bring me back to life), Down the black hole of my lust I descend, Secret Shows in Shower Stalls. Definitely check their other fics out if you like celestial quad (reg/siri/rem/james) also their WIPs are so good

Psychiatristgirl exclusively writes bangers, like And All Was Well, my pussy tastes like pepsi cola (my eyes are wide like cherry pies), and speak in tongues (til you listen). That last one is celestial quad, it’s just too good to omit

Baby, it’s cold outside by @andwaitforthespark is so so so good, their WIPs are amazing, and the house always wins only has one chapter left!

@melissamwrites is one of my favorites, especially Black Holes, please check out their other works, especially their WIPs, especially Wormhole (though it is celestial quad and not just starcest) ALSO they make podfics!!! Check those out for sure!

Underneath the mistletoe by Sirci is one of the sweetest starcest fics ever, they have some other really good fics you should check out!

I love JBlackMalfoyRosier’s smutty little Blackcest series, if you like infidelity, it’s for you!

constellations, collisions, and other ways to say love by @matthewfairhoe is a brilliant two-parter

The Arrangement by rattlesnake_black, technically its wolfstarcest, but the dynamic between Regulus and Sirius is gold, and Remus is a hot bonus

@cassetteinability has some amazing fics, like All night long, need, sweet stars, Friends and brothers and lovers (take care of me) that last one does have James involved

Make Your Dreams Come True by @goldenbi is so hottttt

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday 🧜‍♂️

Happy Wednesday, loves. Tagged by the fabulously talented @bidisasterevankinard @rewritetheending @eddiebabygirldiaz (thank you, lovelies). Some more mer!buck because... what else? 💞

He told Evan he would visit when he could, even if he didn’t know exactly when that would be. It’s possible that his friend might not even be expecting him anymore.  The thought brings him up short. What if Evan’s forgotten, or worse, what if he hasn’t and doesn’t want to see Eddie? God, what if Evan’s not even here? Do merpeople migrate or change locations like humans?  Somehow, the thought never occurred to him before. He never expected Evan to ever be anywhere else. To not be right here, waiting to say ‘hello’ when Eddie came around.  The worries loop through his mind as he makes a place for himself among the weathered boards and battered posts covered in slimy seaweed.  “Beat it,” Eddie scolds a seagull that’s already clocked the cooler beside him. “Not for you.” “I sure hope there’s something for me, though.” Eddie whips his head towards the voice, unable to hold back a fond, amused chuckle. Every muscle and nerve relaxes, immediately soothed by the sight of his friend. “Evan.” A midday summer sun has nothing on the megawatt smile Eddie gets in return. Apollo would have cowered in its presence. “Hey, Eddie.”

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon

@tizniz @diazheartsbuckley @saybiwithme @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie (Happy Birthday!)

@theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples

@your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela loml @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @dr-shortsighted-owl

@dorkydiaz @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck

@beyourownanchor6 @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1

@statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @thelikesofus @wildlife4life @eowon

@bekkachaos @spaceprincessem @bucksbignaturals @swiftiefirefighters and anyone else who wants to 😘

[nightoncydonia]

It's WIP Wednesday again so I thought I'd share a little bit of a thing I've been working on for a while now. I don't know if or when it will ever see the light but well, we'll see...

“I can’t lose you, Obi-Wan. I know it’s not the Jedi way, I know you would lecture me about attachment and how there is no death, only the Force and I should learn to trust It, but I just can’t.” His eyes were brimming with unshed tears, the expression painted on his features so serious as his hands faintly shook in Obi-Wan’s grasp. “I can’t lose you.” He repeated softly, a murmur that broke Obi-Wan’s heart in his vulnerability, as if Anakin was still that trembling nine year old who fisted at his robe, the flames of Qui-Gon’s pire dancing on his face.

“I can’t lose you.” Anakin said again, tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he let go of Obi-Wan’s hands to hold onto his tunics instead and bury his face in the other man’s chest, body shaking from sobs. Obi-Wan froze for a moment, a retort about what his old Master could possibly still do for Anakin dying on his lips as the full force of the younger man’s fear finally settled in.

Anakin was terrified, holding onto Obi-Wan as if he was afraid he would slip from his fingers were he to loosen his grasp, and could Obi-Wan really blame him? Would he react so differently were their roles reversed? Was it still so important to pretend Anakin wasn’t everything for him, that he wasn’t attached beyond repair and had been for quite some time, perhaps even before the war had started?

So he held Anakin back, circling him with his arms and pressing him closer against his chest, kissing the crown of his head and burying his nose in his golden curls. And Anakin squeezed him back, harder, lifting his head until his face was a breath away from Obi-Wan’s. His eyes were glassy and red and his voice quivered as he whispered against Obi-Wan’s lips “Take me, please.”

Obi-Wan’s conflict was, once again, short lived. Because Anakin was right, come tomorrow night he really could be dead, as a matter of fact both of them could, so why deny themselves further?

Would taking him now make that much of a difference? Would it really matter so much that he finally gave in to his desires and cross this last bridge when he already loved Anakin with every fibre of his being? What was sex when they had already belonged to each other in every possible way, when they already lived inside each other’s mind through that bond neither of them had ever dared to sever?

And so he complied, kissing the salty streaks of tears from Anakin’s cheeks, devouring his soft mouth until they were both breathless and shuddering with desire. They stumbled towards Obi-Wan’s bedroom, peeling each other’s clothes off with urgency and kissing fervently, but when Obi-Wan had Anakin splayed naked on his bed he slowed his pace, taking his time.

It was the first time they came together like this and it might very well be the last, so Obi-Wan was bent on committing every single detail of Anakin’s body to his mind, on cataloguing each and every sound that left the other man’s lips, every sigh and moan.

His fingers trembled as he ever so gently carved a space for himself in Anakin’s body, slowly opening him up with the utmost care. And when he finally pushed into him, he let go of all his shields, all his defences, taking his pleasure and giving equally until they became one, hands entwined and heated whispers of love on their lips.

In the dark of the night, with only the moons of Coruscant as their witnesses he had promised to never leave him, that once he returned victorious from having defeated Grievous they would live their truth, leave the Order if it came down to it, because there was nothing, nothing in the entire galaxy, not even the Jedi, that to Obi-Wan mattered more than Anakin.

And Anakin, in turn, had told him that he loved him, that he wanted nothing more than to be with Obi-Wan for as long as Obi-Wan would allow him to and that he dreamed of raising his children with him and grow old together and Obi-Wan’s heart had swelled with more love than he could possibly hope to contain.

So it spilled across their bond, enveloping them both in warmth and light for what they prayed wasn’t the last time.

But oh, how cruel could the Force be.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hii

I'm sorry to hear you're burning out. Sending you a hug <3

If you feel up to it, could I request some Arsonist Neil/firefighter Andrew? I know I always ask for them but I can't stop thinking about them

I hope you have a good week : )

WIP Wednesday (11/6) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 258)

Andrew ends up wrapping 10's gift with sheets of a newspaper stolen from the fire station's front desk. It's several weeks old, no one will ever miss it. In fact, Wymack should give him a bonus for taking out the trash. He won't but, Andrew digresses. He figured newspaper would make for decent gift wrap and this way he saved money on the expensive, glittery rolls he keeps being taunted with every time he steps into a store.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Andrew has not wrapped many gifts in his lifetime. And he's not great at it. He restarts a couple of times, finally getting it to look sort of decent. (Or at least, not like a toddler on crack wrapped it.)

Once he's through, Andrew holds it up and nods to himself. No matter how it looks, 10's gonna like it. Because he's obsessed with Kevin. (Andrew knows the feeling.) As he sets it down though, he does a double take.

Because there in black and white, there's a headline which reads: 'Arsonist in Columbia? Fire Department Stumped'. It's a small headline, but it's in the dead center on the front side of the frame. Andrew stares at it for a couple of seconds before allowing himself a laugh. Well, at least this way he won't have to label it.

"It's not the whole fire department," he says to himself as he puts the tape away, cramming it into a drawer in the kitchen. "Some of us have theories. I might even have a suspect in mind, though there’s no concrete evidence. Other than an eye witness’s description. What is the description? Hm. The arsonist is reported to be a little over five feet tall, blue eyes, auburn hair. Identifying features? Oh several. For instance, the scars on his—"

Andrew cuts off when his phone chimes. "Speak of the devil."

10 One o'clock? Andrew One o'clock.  10 See you tomorrow, Andrew. :)

[fonteyn]

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[puppetmaster13u]

You may regret this @phoenixcatch7 lol, what if I start spamming you /j

Less cryptid Batman in this particular WIP since it's semi-outsider pov lol (one of two outside person not unnerved by them lol)

🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇

   Clark knew Batman wasn’t human, even before that disaster of a mission where he had let it slip to the others. 

   He’d known for a long time, from one of their early meetups, when Batman had first referred to him as Clark Kent instead of Kal-El, and he had panicked. He hadn’t ever lied to his teammates when he said that the cloak prevented him from seeing his body, but his ears still worked. 

   He’d tried to listen to a heartbeat, to see if his at the time temporary ally was lying when he stated he wasn’t going to tell anyone and… Nothing. There was no heartbeat, no breathing, nothing even remotely human, and if he didn’t know any better, nothing even remotely alive about the silence. 

   He couldn’t help but to pay attention more, to seek out the strange almost silence-feeling that accompanied the Gotham vigilante each time he felt it. It was… almost comforting, like the swaying of branches and the rustling of cloth over stone. Familiar, compared to the hustle and bustle surrounding him in the city. 

   The first thing he had noticed, physically that is, was Batman’s ears. Previously he’d thought the man unemotional, what with the rough voice, expressionless white eyes, cloak-covered body and the gas mask covering a good chunk of his face. 

   Yet the longer he watched, even idly, the more he noticed that while the man’s face or body didn’t show much, his ears did. 

   While Batman could stay silent and still for hours, the long ears twitched and swiveled, catching on the hood that he’d always wear around them. They’d pin back sometimes, a near silent sound he couldn’t quite place accompanying the movement, while other times they’d twist a near full three-sixty, as though searching for whatever sound it had caught. 

   Sometimes, when he’d startled the other vigilante, there’d be rattling noise, like wood and metal clacking together before it was cut off. It was a strange sound, one he’d not heard anywhere else, except with his… friend. 

   Were they friends? He’d like to think so. 

   The next time he was reminded that his friend wasn’t human was when he saw him get injured. It hadn’t been a bad injury, even if the Gothamite’s head had hit the wall with a very loud cracking noise, but he’d still smelled what he’d eventually come to recognize as blood. There was an almost pickle-like scent to it though that wasn’t quite it either. 

   Honestly the closest he could think of describing it was some sort of formaldehyde. And once he focused, he could pick out other things beneath it. Maybe not flesh and blood in the traditional sense, but still. 

   There was always that scent of cloth and wood, but he could smell the black liquid, paint, a metallic thing underneath like iron and steel. No heartbeat, no breath, but life all the same. It was honestly beautiful in a way, like a part of the city the other vigilante called home had come to life. 

   And it wasn’t like Batman minded whenever his own human mask slipped. Clark may have been raised by his Ma and Pa, whom he loved, but it didn’t make his body any more human in nature. There were just some things that he couldn’t change, and it took effort to move like one all day as a civilian when his body wasn’t designed to do so.

   So he stayed quiet for the most part when their group of three grew, and people started to speculate. He diverted the conversations whenever it turned to him, lightly admonishing over the various rumors. 

   It didn’t matter if Batman wasn’t human, he was still his friend, their ally and teammate. Was he curious? Oh of course, he’d gone into journalism for a reason after all, but it was still his friend. If he wanted to tell, he’d tell, and Clark wouldn’t break his trust. 

[littledreamling]

I love the thought of Hob spending the 90s (1990s, that is) hooking up with every pale emo/goth/punk Dream lookalike he could find to deal with the fact that he got stood up

But consider: after the very first time he had sex with one of those men, all miles of pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes that were just slightly the wrong shade, Hob spends an hour in the shower trying to wash every trace of the encounter from his skin, from his mouth, from his bones. Because he had promised his Stranger that he would wait, even if it was a promise only he had heard. He had promised his Stranger that they were friends and that he didn’t need anything more than his Stranger’s presence. And here he was, seeking out people who look exactly like him, people who are also strangers, but will never be strangers in the way his Stranger is. In some small way, he has pushed for more, if only by association, and he immediately hates himself for it. Hates the way that he knows the name of the man in his bed and wishes he didn’t. Hates the way he can still hear the man’s choked-off gasps as he came down Hob’s throat and his voice wasn’t deep enough, wasn’t otherworldly enough; it was just a man’s voice and nothing more. Hates that the man didn’t call him Hob because Hob isn’t going by Hob this time around. Hates that he’s used an innocent person to project his own selfish and unwanted desires onto. He hates himself for pushing and for looking for distractions and most of all, for wanting

[nettleparade]

oh right i forgot to post this here

[baeshijima]

after much deliberation (it was procrastination), reca is officially on the hsr celeb au fic....

stares forlornly out into the sea...

[memento-morri-writes]

So, it's been a million years since I've done any real writing, but I was toying around with potential descriptions for one of my dnd campaigns, and I'm really proud of how it turned out:

tw for graphic description of an injury

Every inch of [Rook's] back and shoulders is raw, covered in dozens, maybe hundreds, of small cuts. They overlap and merge so that his entire back is one giant wound. But you can't even get a good look at the cuts, because they are covered by a thick layer of dried blood, almost black in some places.

This will be part of the description the party gets upon seeing Rook for the first time after he was kidnapped by Captain Wolf, and dear god I can't wait to see their reactions both in and out of character. :)))

[mamawasatesttube]

i think it's fucked up that being sad can make you really tired all the time but you still have stuff you have to do AND stuff you want to do but absolutely no energy for either. please i have finals this week (today and tomorrow) and i wanna write so bad but actually i am going to take a nap now. thanks

[rowanisawriter]

new guy

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

I don’t think anything will come from this, but for your consideration, my latest brainrot:

A sort-of Grease!AU with Rose as Sandy and Blanche as Danny (or, even better, Rizzo).

That’s all. You can go.

[scionshtola]

wip whenever

i was tagged by @coldshrugs @lavampira @impossible-rat-babies ty friends!! 💗not tagging anyone since it's kind of late and im not sure who's been tagged. but here's a little bit from the morning after fic i was working on, i'm not sure if the fic is gonna make it but i think this part is cute

 “Did you sleep well?” Y’shtola hums a laugh, content and amused. She has hardly looked more beautiful to Corisande, sleep mussed hair, warm brown skin glowing in the morning light. “Indeed. And you?” “I do not know the last time I slept half so well as I did last night,” Corisande says. It had been far too long since she had fallen asleep so easily, or woken up so peacefully. And sleeping without some specter haunting her dreams is a luxury she has long since forgotten.  Y’shtola brushes a loose strand of Corisande’s hair away from their face and leans in to kiss them, lips warm and gentle against theirs. There is little urgency in it, yet her desire echoes in their chest, heart fluttering with each kiss. “I am glad to hear it,” Y’shtola says between kisses, voice soft in the tiny gap between them. “As I have been saying for weeks now, you deserve a decent night of rest.” “Is that why you finally took the hands-on approach to seeing it happen?” Corisande murmurs, grinning when Y’shtola laughs.  “‘Twas incredibly effective, was it not?” Y’shtola fits one hand to the slight curve of Corisande’s bare waist, thumb sweeping across their skin. “Perhaps I ought to have tested the method sooner.”