#it’s not even funny anymore I have so many wips

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Just putting it out there a Kanej AU of Tangled would be so good

[sirbird]

Double lives

[aseplant]

a ghost still wears your skin

You forget everything. It’s in your nature. You forget your lines, you forget how to act, you forget your Fighter’s name and have a teeeeny little panic attack. But no biggie, that’s what the loops are for! Hahahahaha! There’s just one tiny hiccup in your otherwise perfect plan: Isabeau himself, eyes wide, face pale, grip tight enough to bruise, anchoring your miserable self to this miserable world.

[samuraisphantom]

Finished at last! (Who cheered?) It only took me about… 2 months…. But as mentioned in the wip post for this, its a little something that I did for a aitsf au that I’m working on (slowly but surely) but workflow for fics is incredibly slow rn so I don’t know when the next chapter will be. I think I prefer the sketches more compared to the final version but I don’t know why exactly

[driftingvoid-155]

‘Man, I really should update some of my fics’ I think to myself as I go about typing away for the newest AU my mind has decided to latch onto

[starcrossedslytherin]

Love Letters

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

WC: 1K

A/N: I don’t know how popular the Hogwarts legacy fandom is as of now because I’ve not been on tumblr, but I found this fic in my drafts(along with quite a few wips) and realized I never posted it so I thought I would feed the Sallow girlies a quick snack today.

Summary: Sebastian wants to write you a love letter to tell you about his feelings but it’s not going the way he hoped, even with Ominis’ help.

---

Ominis knows he shouldn’t be as amused as he is right now, but he can’t help it. It’s not often he gets to experience Sebastian embarrass himself so willingly.

Try as he does to suppress his chuckle, it slips out and Sebastian sighs, letting the several half written love notes spill onto the table in front of him.

“It’s not funny.” Sebastian practically pouts, glad his friend can’t see the expression on his face.

“I disagree.” Ominis taunts him with a grin, leaning back in his seat.

“I’ve been trying to write Y/N a note all afternoon! I just don’t understand why they sound so…”

“Awful?” Ominis jumps in. “Horrendous? Painfully cliche?”

“Oi, shut it.” Sebastian mutters, gently nudging Ominis’ foot under the table. He very much regrets asking his best friend for help now he knows how embarrassed he’d be.

He sighs before picking up all his papers, trying to find the best parts of them all. “Why don’t you read them again? Out loud, so I can hear.” Sebastian doesn’t see why Ominis asks him to do so, but he reads through the notes, pulling faces every time he gets to a rather cheesy part of the note.

When he finishes, he looks to Ominis, hoping he can give him any sort of feedback to fix this mess.

Ominis stays quiet for a moment, thinking Merlin only knows what until he says, “You make me wish I was deaf as well.”

Sebastian’s hands slap against the table as he gives up, annoyed with his inability to string together simple words to tell you how he feels and annoyed with Ominis’ lack of help. “Forget this.” Sebastian grumbles, crumpling up as many of the letters as he can.

Ominis sighs and puts his hand across the table, covering some of the papers and getting Sebastian to stop. “Just talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”

Sebastian pulls a face at the recommendation. “Tell her how I feel?” He repeats, starting to pace in his spot. “You mean, just walk up to her and tell her how beautiful I think she is? Or how any time she smiles at me, you, Anne or anything really, I can’t help but stare? How she is most likely the smartest and kindest person I have ever met? How anytime she’s in the room, I am most certain my heart will beat out of my chest with how fast she makes it? How each time I see her leave the castle on her little adventures, I fight myself on whether to go with because I need to know that she makes it back safe to me? To us? You think I should just walk right up to Y/N and tell I am absolutely in love with her?”

There was silence between the two boys after Sebastian’s speech and the brunette boy, exhausted mentally, falls in his seat in a slump. Ominis just sat there, gripping his wand tight in his hand as his lips gently pull up to the left. “Well,” he whispers, getting Sebastian’s attention, who frowns upon seeing his smirk, “I don’t think you have to worry about it anymore.”

Sebastian’s brows furrow and he was about to ask Ominis what he meant before the sound of a book clattering to the ground behind him has him whipping his hand around and he opens his eyes wide. There you were, frozen in your place as you struggle to keep more books from falling off the shelves.

“Sorry.” You mumble, trying to determine if you really were hearing what you think you were hearing. “And uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

Sebastian nods at your reassurance. “How much did you hear?”

You wave your hand in the air. “Oh, well just, uh, just… everything.”

Well, that’s not what he wanted.

He turned to glare at Ominis, but the boy slipped out when you and Sebastian were focused on each other.

You glance down at the paper strewn across the table, ready to dismiss them before seeing your name on one of them. “What is that?”

Sebastian sighs, debating whether he could really show you his mess of notes. He nods, letting you fall into the seat next to him as you pick through the papers. You barely got through the first sentence of the very first letter before your eyes shoot to Sebastian’s.

“You.. you wrote me letters?” There was a deep blush on his face and he’d gone silent, but he nods. You stare at him, feeling your own cheeks heat up quite a bit before you turn back and read, picking a few sentences of each discarded letter. Your favorite ones were the ones Sebastian had scratched over with his quill, obviously being embarrassed of having written them, but you enjoyed them.

From the first moment we met, I knew there was something extraordinary about you.

I know what love is because I know you.

My darling, you are my rock, my confident, my ally, my friend, and so much more.

“Bash…” you mumble, blinking repeatedly to keep your tears from spilling out.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” He whispers, picking up a few of the letters and holding them. “I had Ominis try to help me, but I don’t think he was particularly helpful.” You chuckle, imagining Ominis trying to help Sebastian.

Your laugh fades out as you put your hands on top of Sebastian’s and your eyes meet. Your stomach flutters with nerves and adoration. “I think you know the right words.”

Sebastian smiles at you, the corners of his mouth tugging up just enough that his eyes crinkle and he nods. “Y/N,” he begins, looking to his letters for strength but he knows he doesn’t need it. “Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you and I want to go on adventures with you and I want to smile with you and I want, I just want you.” His hand cups your cheek, bringing you closer to him as your eyes flutter close and he whispers, one last time before your lips meet, “I love you.”

•

[crystalflygeo]

two long dragon tongues down your throat is better than one <3

So I was going to answer this like a normal ask just fangirling and screaming yes but then it kinda reminded me of this abandoned wip I had sitting in my docs and IT WAS TOO GOOD TO LET IT PASS.

So sorry this sat on my inbox so long csvajckwxbhaj I promise I am not ignoring :c <3 work is just killing me and also this got out of hand HAHA WHAT A SURPRISE

it was written before 4.2 dropped (maybe before 4.1 even I can't recall) so there are some little things here and there that are technically not canon anymore//hit

Neuvillette is absolutely fascinated.

The chief Justice of Fontaine has lived for many many years, seen, learned and experienced a lot of what the world has to offer, at least within the confines of his beloved hydro nation. Always a diligent man, carrying out his role and job at the court to perfection. Yet there was something he’d always… disregard.

Some more basic instincts pertaining to his true draconic nature.

He’d had enough in his plate as it was, practically managing the nation, keeping lady Furina both entertained and out of trouble, taking care of the Melusine, and a myriad of other duties in between. Truth be told, he was a tired old dragon not having much time or interest in the pursuit of a romantic companion.

So how did he end up here? Having a sample of the most sacred and valuable treasure of another dragon. Their mate.

Neuvillette is mesmerized at how your body reacts, jerking and trembling in unadulterated pleasure. Entranced a how your lips part with labored puffs and cute little sounds he didn’t know humans were capable of. High pitched whines, long drawn-out moans. Hypnotized by your eyes, usually so alert, so smart and playful… now glazed over, clouded with euphoria yet so raw and sincere in their emotions, begging him not to stop.  

And your scent… oh, the most decadent sinful scent he’d ever sensed. His pupils dilating and turning back to slits as his stare focused on your drooling pussy. His mouth dry, his fangs aching. He wanted to drown all of his senses in you.

Darkened fingers slide across your folds, a little colder than normal for a human which is why he’d always wore gloves, but you mewl appreciatively and gladly accept them. Clenching warm and wet around the digits.

And his breath catches.

“Hmmm… you’re doing so well, baobei.”

The Iudex’s eyes flicker momentarily at the other man, or should he say, other dragon. The former Geo Archon Morax, quite literally a mythical figure exuding an aura of power far greater than his current own. He is older, wiser, stronger, a deity once involved in the likes of the Archon war and the Cataclysm. In this little… exchange, Morax is certainly the dominant dragon, simply letting Neuvillette please you.

Morax holds you close to his chest, purring contently in a display of affection towards you and confidence towards the other male, as if he needed not to worry about another taking what is his. Neuvillette knows if he were to even remotely try something funny, he’d likely face the infamous wrath of the rock. Under normal circumstances, he’d find it a little insulting to be treated like this. If he had his full authority…

But these are far from normal circumstances.

And he’s currently rather… ah… enchanted by you.

“Curl your fingers towards you and pump slowly… she likes that.” Morax explains, voice deep and rich like syrup. His hands roam your shoulders and chest, massaging softly at your exposed skin while he plants kisses at your neck, occasionally nibbling of a few past marks from his own fangs.

Neuvillette does as said, experimentally, and is rewarded by a sultry moan and a buck of your hips towards him when you feel those fingers wiggle and rub at a spot deep inside you.

“Oh? Got it on your first try Chief Justice, why you may be a natural.” Morax chuckles.

The younger dragon appreciates the praise underneath the teasing lilt.

“Now, you may use your thumb to rub at that little pearl, it’s just begging for attention.” Your mate nuzzles against your cheek, his own thumbs rolling over your perked nipples. “Slowly, careful… she is very sensitive.” He adds with amusement.

He does so again, the pad of his cool finger brushing over your puffy little nub, the spark of pleasure is immediate and you toss your head back and squeal.

“Please please please…” You gasp out, breath shuddering, body trembling.

Tears gather at your eyes and roll down your cheeks, it’s so much it feels so good.

The younger dragon stops and blinks at you, his demeanor shifting suddenly. His hands slip over your thighs to you hips, as if trying to cradle you, hold you closer.

Morax’s eyes narrow if only a bit, curious but wary of Neuvillette’s sudden… protectiveness over you.

“You’re crying… have I hurt you? Are you ok?” He asks softly, attention solely on you.

Your heart could melt at that, who knew the ever serious and imposing Iudex could be so gentle? He truly reminds you of your mate sometimes.

You nod, catching your breath a moment. “I-I’m good. Feels good.” You mumble, cheeks heating up with the confession. Your body already lays bare and presented for him, in it’s most vulnerable. But to open up your feelings too… “People… cry when they’re happy too, you know?”

He seems to consider it for a moment, you can practically se the cogs turning in his head, it’s rather endearing, his brow twitches the same way Morax’s does when he’s pensive, perhaps it’s a dragon thing? “I have observed that before, yes, but why-”

“Emotions are powerful. When y-you feel… so much… you need a let out. Be it angry, sad, even happy… our tears leak out, like emotions overflowing.” You smile and shift a little, hiding your face towards the crook of your mate’s neck. “Weren’t you the one who said waters carry emotions?” You nuzzle there and Morax responds accordingly, his hands once again massaging and roaming your body, knowing you’re still pent up and the sudden stop was probably a little frustrating.

Golden fingers slide over your folds and sink in carefully, thumb circling your clit once more and you whimper. “That’s it, my love… I want you to feel good. We want you to enjoy, isn’t that right?”

Neuvillette straightens up a little to meet Morax’s gaze. Not challenging (not yet) but there is something.   ��

“Indeed.” He leans in to nuzzle at the other side of your neck, the soft skin there unmarked. Morax tenses his hold on you, a slight growl coming out from deep within his chest.

“Careful Chief Justice. Remember our agreement.”

“Of course. No kisses, no marks, no claiming. No strings attached.” His lavender eyes a dark purple now as he follows the soft slope of your jaw. “I wouldn’t dare break a contract with the deity that presides over them.” He chuckles. “I just want to test…”

Or rather taste. His draconic tongue laps up softly at your tears, his hands tease your nipples as if trying to get more reactions out of you and you whine, arching towards him as Morax’s hand keeps working at your core.

It’s so… intense. They are both so clear about their desires, slow and reverent, kind in their methods, but so assured in their dominance that they will get what they want.

And oh, to be desired by two dragons truly is something…

“Interesting…” He mumbles pulling back. “So sweet.”

Morax nips at your mating mark then and tilts your head to press your lips together, your mouth happily parts for him and you let out a muffled moan as that long split tongue slides down your throat. Your feet kick and your fingers claw at whatever is closer.

Half-lidded golden eyes stare down at you with satisfaction, blown with lust. A third finger sinking in on your sweet pussy, faster, your juices gushing obscenely around them.

That tongue teases and chokes you and more tears come out of your glazed eyes, eagerly caught by another one. Bodies pressed together, hands roaming, Morax’s tail curled around your ankle keeping you open, Neuvillette’s swaying after him with excitement, cool fingers pinching your nipples, massaging your breasts…

“Mmphff…!” You squeak, high pitched and tense as the pleasure tips you over the edge and your body locks up in a delicious powerful orgasm. You sob and whimper as they work you through it. Shuddering. You see stars. Can’t think only feel.   

Once it settles Morax pulls back and you melt against him, chest heaving, legs weak, muscles aching just a little, they continue to pamper you with affection and attention.

Your mate’s fingers retreat with an embarrassingly wet noise and much to your further mortification he brings them up to his face and that sinful slip tongue once again comes out this time to lick them clean.

Neuvillette stares transfixed.

You groan quietly, it’s obvious what he wants…

Morax on his part only lets out a short laugh, possessive instincts seemingly more at ease now. “Oh? Want to have a taste too? I can assure you will not be disappointed.”

Archons, the way those sharp eyes shift to you.

“O-okay…” Your voice is barely a whisper. “P-please be gentle though I j-just…”

Your breath catches in anticipation as Neuvillette’s hands rest on your inner thighs.

And then your dear mate pulls you back into a kiss.

[sango-blep]

I heard it's #TalanahTuesday and I have so many horizon wip's sitting around it's not even funny anymore

[onebizarrekai]

Fic Author Interview

I've been tagged by @unmaskedcardinal! been a while since I talked about any of this stuff, particularly as a very inconsistent fic poster haha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

the visible number linked to my account is currently 60, no idea if this is counting the bizarre saga from my archive account or not. technically I've posted more, but they aren't part of that number.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

567,314.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ibvs season 1 & season 2 are (thankfully) the top two on my account, considering they're… well. ibvs.

number 3 is formal humiliation, a utmv fic back in 2019 where I wrote 3 oneshots all with different pairs surrounding the same idea. it's uh, it's something.

4 is behave, a saiouma despair disease fic I wrote sort of ironically in 2020. I did not realize this weird oneshot would be the thing that jumpstarted my kage obsession.

5, for some reason, is glow, a ds fic I wrote in 2019. I do not know why this is the ds fic with the most kudos. I am just really glad that it's not one of the ones I wrote in 2018.

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

lately I have been trying to respond to more comments, if they're on a recent enough story and I can think of a way to answer.

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

most of the fics I've written right now have been Random Spot In Time fics with no articulate ending, but game over is pretty edgy. I think. I've written a similarly edgy ending but it's in an anonymous fic. it occurs to me that edgy doesn't necessarily mean angst, but it can.

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

somehow everyone lived happily ever after in the bizarre saga, no f'ing idea how they managed that

7. Do you write crossovers?

I have. I have as comedies. I tend to take a bunch of guys and put them in a new setting that they definitely shouldn't be in. poopenster high is an example of this, but none of that has ever touched the internet and I haven't touched it in like 2 years.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

oh my god like. maybe once? maybe? I don't even think it counted as hate. I think like several years ago some rando complained that season 2 of ibvs was trying too hard to be funny. I barely remember what it actually said, I just remember it being annoying.

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

when I was in my v3 phase I wrote some, I think "feelings with smut" describes most of it decently. the nature of the kcu meant it was like, almost all trippy.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I dunno. I hope not. I think I've had people repost stuff without permission.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

probably?? when I was a teen I had people say they wanted to translate my utmv fics, I don't know which ones actually followed through anymore.

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

(sigh) yes.

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

oh god, I think I honestly just phase around stuff. I don't think I've ever permanently latched onto a pair, it's just that I've had fandoms and I have pairs that I've ended up liking in them and they just sort of stay that way even if stop paying attention to the fandom. I like most ships that happens to fit into my favorite criteria (that being protagonist/morally ambiguous deuteragonist or antagonist). if you asked me what my favorite series is, it would be an easier question. it's zelda. but I don't really have any permanent favorite ships in zelda.

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

this is a scary question because I have a number of major wips that I want to get back into once I get back into writing and I refuse to accept that they may not get finished. I don't know. moose hill? for a little while I wanted to see if I could come up with a whole side story, but it is extremely unlikely that will happen. maybe a better example is a continuation of shuichi and kage's blackout adventure, which is pretty low on the priority list for if my brain every gets infected by danganronpa again.

15. What are your writing strengths?

the jokes are very important. I put my heart and soul into them. I hope that people can see my vision when I tell them.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

actually doing the writing getting from point A to point B. I come up with this whole outline and realize there's 2000 words of empty space that needs to happen. and it's like dull shit, too. just plain old events. like look at them, it's the lunching hours again. because lunch is a thing that happens every day. is it redundant to have lunch too many times? it can't possibly! it's the only time they can talk to each other! do I need to pan the camera again because this 3 sentence exchange has dragged on for too long? help

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

makes sense to me. or like, depends on the context. if the POV is a character who can speak the language, the reader should probably get to know what they're saying (think like, subtitled sections of a movie), unless it's really easy to decipher. but if the POV can't understand it, the reader shouldn't necessarily know. it gets more complicated if it takes place in a setting where they should logically be speaking a language that is not english for example. like, if they're in a country where they are not speaking english but the fic is in english. it wouldn't really make sense to insert interjections in their home language because they're not speaking english in the first place. I guess it all depends on what you're trying to convey.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

sonic. does it count. I started writing once I was old enough to type. but I think the first story I ever put online was zelda.

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

on occasion I entertain the idea of writing for corpse party, but that's probably not going to happen.

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

I'm going to not include that one anonymous fic and my pile of unfinished longfic wips that I've been proud of in past years is way too big so… maybe game over?? it's complicated. I have a ton of comedy pieces that I love but they're just… not completed!!

[ feel free to fill this out yourself if you're a fic writer! ]

[writingjourney]

Headache wip

that's a great choice because I can actually give you an excerpt for this one!! ♡ also funny bc right now i got an awful headache, so this is not proofread or anything:

✦ ✧ ✦

A swell of Italian curses, muffled by the heavy oak door. The keys jangle as he misses his target multiple times, the wood groaning painfully as he leans against it before trying again. When the lock finally springs open, Secondo enters your shared quarts with a sigh that seems to carry the combined weight of every burden in the world.

“Hello, my love,” you greet him from the couch, pulling your legs up to make room for him.

He grumbles what seems to be a greeting as he pulls at his robes with impatient, unusually clumsy fingers. When he misses the hook on the coat rack the fabric falls to the floor, emerald green and black pooling at his feet. He heaves another sigh.

“Oh, you’re especially grumpy today, hm?” You only have to take one closer look to see exactly what the reason for his foul mood is. The makeup around his temples is smudged, as is the paint around bridge of his nose when he regards you under droopy eyelids. “Headache again?”

“Hmpf.”

“Oh, heavy is the head that wears the mitre,” you mumble when he sinks down on the sofa beside you. “Is it very bad?”

“Yes.”

“That’s because you’re too stubborn to take the meds in time before it gets like this,” you chide, wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders. “You always think you can push through by sheer force of will.”

“Hmpf.”

You press a soft kiss to his temple and he leans against you, resting his heavy head against your lips. “It’s okay to get a little help, my love.”

“I have you for that, no? You always take such good care of your Papa.”

“Well, not even I can just magically rub away your headache.”

He tuts, squeezing your thigh with his gloved fingers. “That depends on where you’re rubbing, hm?”

You chuckle, cradling his head against you and peppering his skin with more kisses. “I don’t think you’re up for that today. But I can rub some tiger balm on your temples if you would like?”

“Per favore.”

More kisses and he grows heavier by the second. His black eyelids are closed now, long lashes tickling the skin just below. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep. I will take care of dinner today and you can take a little nap.”

He gives a dissatisfied hum. “Amore, we are making Cacio e Pepe tonight.”

“So? I helped you prepare it many times and it’s not that difficult.”

You can immediately tell that the idea displeases him. His brows pull together even more than in their relaxed state and his lips curl ever so slightly at the edges. This is the closest you will ever get to an actual pout from him and you have to fight off an amused smile.

“You don’t have to worry that I won’t need you anymore,” you whisper. “I will always prefer being your kitchen helper, my love.”

“I’m not wo–” You shut him up with a proper kiss and he practically melts into it. The smudged make up tastes bitter when you lick along his full lips. Secondo sighs, teasing your tongue with his for a moment before he pulls away. “Va bene. But you will join your Papa for his nap.”

[littlemarianah]

WIP

How Katniss and Peeta chose their children's names

prologue of my fanfic in progress about Katniss motherhood. "The Flower and the Willow"

_________________________________________

My name is Katniss Everdeen.

My parents named me after a long-stemmed flower that grow on the edge of lakes. You will never starve if you find one of them. Its roots are sweet and juicy like a potato. The delicate and small white petals contrast with its arrow-pointed leaves.

My sister got her name from the Primrose flower. Different from katniss flower, primroses are everywhere. It has small petals, but its vibrant colors make it stand out among the undergrowth.

They chose beautiful names to decorate us with.

Beautiful things like the songs my father sang before I went to sleep.

Beautiful things like the colorful dresses my mother wore on Sundays.

Things that keep ourselves alive.

When my father stopped singing my mother stopped wearing her dresses. And then it was like she was dead too. That's when I realized that those things made us live.

Without the laughter, without the songs, without the hugs that my father gave me covered in dust from the mines, without the dresses, without the beautiful braids that my mother gave me and Prim. Without anything beautiful, without anything happy. We had nothing but hunger, cold and misery.

Peeta's parents had a similar idea. They chose their children's names from bread. Peeta, for a wheat bread that's as thin as a sheet and hollow inside. Rye, for a bread made with rye flour and very soft. Bran, for bread made with bran and molasses. Sweet in taste and brown in color.

It was kind of funny for a family of bakers to take their children's names from a cookbook, but they followed the same logic as my parents. Naming their children after the only thing that keep them together: work.

In the Mellark household no one had an empty stomach, but everyone woke up before sunrise to grind the wheat, sift the flour and heat the wood fire and work until night fell. Peeta once told me he never thought he would be the one to run the bakery. Her parents decided to have children to pass on the business to when they got old. The first was planned. The second was accidental, but useful in a world where your son could always go to games. The third was unwanted, but at least one more hand to work with.

Until shortly before giving birth I didn't know what name to choose. Peeta said he wanted me to decide, but nothing felt good enough. When I discovered I was a girl I started singing the lullabies my father always sang. I hummed them when I helped Peeta knead bread in the morning, I whistled them when I walked through the forest. Every time my head was empty, some new song came back to the surface. One day I found myself singing an old song that I had forgotten for a long time.

Deep in the meadow

Under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

For so many years I even banned myself from humming its melody, I preferred it to disappear from my memory completely.

All the little girls I had sung that song to were dead. But I got pregnant and I couldn't stop it anymore. It was a girl, I would have a daughter. Even with the horrible pain in my chest I wanted her to hear that song.

Here your dreams are sweet

And tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Deep in the meadow

Hidden far away

I chose Willow after that in honor of the willow tree in the song. Peeta liked it.

Two years later when I got pregnant with my second I gave Peeta a taste of his own medicine and made sure he chose the name. He spent hours listing names for me, looking for inspiration in books, names of important people. Until one day he put down the history books and picked up a recipe book. He flipped through the pages... sponge cake, carrot cake, cinnamon rolls... as if it was the first time he was reading it.

Even the recipes he made every day, like wheat bread from the bakery, he read again. He said he would wait until the baby was born to finally choose a name, but I had the impression he already had some ideas in mind. When Peeta took our boy in his arms he said he saw his brother Rye's eyes on him.

So, following the tradition of our families, our children's names are in honor of what is important to us.

Rye, a bread to satisfy our hunger.

Willow, a tree from an old song.

[englishsub]

fic writer meme!

i was tagged by @microcomets and @cairoscene :) thank you friendz

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

22, which is both more and less than i expected.

2. what's your total ao3 wordcount?

529,320

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i've branched out in recent years; like my fellow taggers, i write for fewer fandoms that i'm in. food takes ages to cook and even longer to actually commit to. i started with mdzs/cql and tgcf before moving to shl/tyk, though now i mostly write trigun and video game fic.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

爱不释手; never let me go

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near)

花无百日红; the flower that withers

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for)

me 🤝 cair wangxian monopoly

5. do you respond to comments?

not usually - if the comment jumps out in some way or asks a question about podficcing i might, but i generally don't. i read every single one and hold them close to my heart, though.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LOL it's an open ending but the implications are pretty clear - 美丽的日子; beautiful days

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of them end happy, except when they don't :)

8. do you get hate on fics?

not really. i did for a stint back in 2021 when that anon was going around but it was honestly very funny for me.

9. do you write smut?

sometimes.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you have written?

just the one time, not usually. it was a threadfic - a mdzs/tgcf crossover where wwx was raised by hualian instead of the jiangs.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

yeah. the good ole ctrl+f+replace of names. i remember they even stole my author's note. i'd said something to the effect of "i have to go study..." (i was in high school) and they added "which i didn't even end up doing..."

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yes and i think fic translation is so cool!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope.

14. what's your all time favorite ship?

EVER?

pirates of the caribbean will/elizabeth.

but it's honestly a rotating rotisserie throughout life of my fav ships depending on what i'm hungry for at a given moment. it's 2024 and i'm back in ff7 hell, for instance.

15. what is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

歃血; blood oath, and it pains me deeply to admit. not because i have any measure of anxiety about returning to it, or feel any pressure, but because it genuinely had one of my favorite premises and setups, was super gory and horrific, and i'd packed in every crazy trope i love into the outline. i was really excited about. then the fandom imploded and i can't look at it anymore.

she's my white whale. i'd finish it for @megafaunatic alone.

16. what are your writing strengths?

atmosphere. payoff. saying things are like other things. i understand this is annoying for some people though, which is fair.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i put off every single sex scene in a fic until i had written everything else, such that i had to sit and write 10,000 words, spread across three scenes, of sex. worst week of my life.

internal logic, because i think it's so obvious in my head that i forget to explain it in words on the page.

i think i always can improve on character voice. that's an eternal work in progress.

18. thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

it's cool. probably good to consult a native speaker if writer of the fic doesn't speak it, though?

19. first fandom you wrote for?

christ. harry potter, by hand, in pencil, in an a5 notebook.

20. favorite fic you have written?

recency bias compels me to say by the time the apocalypse began, because i worked my ass and head off for it, and i ended up really happy with how it turned out. sci-fi's not really my wheelhouse.

i have a huge soft spot for my clj arranged marriage fic, 双命; twin fates, because i had such a blast writing it. and 总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) will always be special to me, because it was like taking a huge, glittering, orgasmic shit.

i believe quite a few people have already been cross-tagged but i will tag you guys again for fun: @yuebings @cafecliche @dcyiyou @vinelark @floofyfluff @ziusik

[player1064]

If you're still doing prompts: I just saw the rooney pic set and the beckham with carra and just either of Carraville being a hot commodity? Other people having crushes or being into them? And maybe them being obvious because they only have eyes for each other or so? Or being possessive

alright lads I am BACK (the essay uh. dont even worry about it.) I've been distracted from drabbles with a) my beville wip which is getting. long. and b) making a gary character thesis statement video which is also getting. LONG.

Anyway I was gonna do a Gary half to this (w/ Stevie and Michael Owen) but it's already at like 1.2k words with just the Jamie ones so if anyone wants me to write the Gary half u will simply have to send more asks adksjfkjdasfsvdsa...

---

Wayne is young, and excited, and he’s scoring a lot of goals.

England is fantastic, it’s a break in the routine, a chance to play with new people. A chance to prove to the whole world that he’s the best there is, that there’s more to the buzz around him than just talk. And there’s so many United players in the squad, there’s no fear of feeling lost or out of his depth.

Except, the United players are all senior United players, that little gang of Phil, Butty, Scholesy, and of course their ringleader Gaz.

Gaz is great, but Wayne has to put up with him every day of his life and he’s not sure he can stomach spending his free time at England camp listening to his ranting when he could be doing literally anything else.

The first time he’d been called up he’d still been with Everton, and being the only player at the club to get in the squad he’d not known anyone when he got to training camp. The Liverpool lot – or rather, Jamie Carragher and his less enthusiastic mates – had adopted him, but now just a few months later everything is different, because now he plays for Manchester United.

It’s stupid, really. The club rivalry stuff. The ‘stick with your own teammates’ stuff. David Beckham doesn’t play for United anymore, but he’s still sat at their table every day, saying stuff that’s not even that funny but that makes Gaz do this stupid over the top laugh that Wayne never hears at any other time.

Gaz’ll have a go at him for it, but he’d rather go sit with Stevie and Carra.

They’re sat at a small table in the canteen, just the two of them and Mo. Except Carra’s not sitting next to Mo like he did last season, there’s no easy banter flowing between any of them. Wayne ignores the tension, or maybe he just doesn’t notice it, and he takes the long awaited opportunity to sit right next to Carra.

Gaz likes to complain about the Scousers, and about Carra in particular. He can’t stand him, thinks he’s after his position in the squad or something, like anyone would want to be a right-back. Last time they’d played Liverpool, Gaz had sat in the dressing room moaning about how Carra was a ‘pathetic little whiny bitch’ and how ‘he’s the most miserable looking footballer I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting’.

Wayne’s not sure where Gaz is getting that from, he’s always thought Carra was quite nice. Friendly, even.  And he smells nice, which is unrelated but feels like it’s worth mentioning.

Even now that Wayne’s at one of his club’s biggest rivals, he still gives him a little smile and an “alright, Wazza?”

There’s a little flutter in his chest, and he grins back. “hiya, Carra. How’s things in Liverpool?”

Carra squints at him. “Did Neville send you over to spy on us?”

*

David is under a lot of pressure.

This was meant to be his last tournament, one last chance for him to finally do it, and now he’s sat in the dugout and every newspaper in the world is asking what his job is meant to be, exactly. He’s not a coach, his latest injury ruled him out of the squad months ago, but he’s still here, and everyone is still watching.

It’s weird, to be away with England and not have Gary by his side. He’s in a hotel in South Africa and he should be going out, enjoying the fact that for once he doesn’t have to be fit to play, but instead he’s staring at the door wishing Gary would walk through and complain about something.

It’s probably not fair to say that he misses Gary (you’re the one who left, you prick), but well – he does miss Gary. He always misses Gary. It’s a world cup, he should be here.

If he’d known, four years ago – if he’d known. He’d’ve done better, tried harder. But what thirty year old thinks they’re at the end of their international career?

So he’s here, now. He’s not a player, not a coach, he’s just David Beckham. Apparently that’s enough. The squad is changing, shifting into something unrecognisable. The senior players don’t bother with the club rivalry thing so much anymore, there’s not enough of them from each club to really justify it. So at lunch he sits with Frank and JT and Gerrard. And Carragher, who’s not got enough caps to really be a senior player at England, but who’s too old now to count as anything else. He’s always around, anyway – sticks to Gerrard like his shadow.

And sometimes – sometimes, David finds himself looking.

He’s all alone out here. He’s under a lot of pressure.

It’s been years, since he’s done anything like that. Four years, in fact. And it’s not that he’s just substituting one defender for another, but he sees a lot of Gary in Jamie. Always cross about something, always moaning. Always pushing himself in training as hard as he possibly can, always pushing the others to do the same.

And he’s not bad to look at, either. Though David’s not sure if that’s a point in his favour or not, he’s always had a bit of a soft spot for the awkward, ugly ones. Or maybe just for that one specific awkward ugly one.

He’s not quite sure how to broach the subject, spends a few days agonising over it before deciding to just get on with it and go knock on the man’s door.

Carragher squints at him when he opens the door. “Does the manager need me for somethin’?” he asks cautiously, like maybe he’s not sure what David’s job is meant to be either.

“Nothing like that, just wondered if we could talk.”

Carragher doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and waits for David to talk.

“Um, I was thinking more like – in your room?” he says, trying to load as much meaning as he can into the words since Carragher seems a bit slow on the uptake.

Carragher waves him in and he walks ahead to sit on the end of the bed.

“If this is about that fight I had with your mate a few weeks ago, he’s the one who fuckin’ started it.”

“I – what?”

David’s not quite sure when Jamie would have had opportunity to fight any of his mates, or even which mate he might mean – they don’t exactly run in the same circles.

“I swear, he’s always in the referee’s ear, mouthy cunt.”

Ah. Gary.

He wonders when the last time United played Liverpool was. He wonders when the last time was that he asked Gary how a game went.

“We have nothing to do with the referees,” he says automatically, before remembering that he’s not really part of the we anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

“Yeah, yeah. Well tell your little boyfriend that if he still ‘as a problem he can say it to my face, but it was his man who dived, not mine.”

“That wasn’t why I – you know what, never mind.”

[anistarrose]

oh I would love to hear about the lich academia wip !

(WIP meme here, still taking asks!)

oh boy, excellent choice. this is a premise I've mentioned before under the alternate placeholder title of "Eighth Bird Kravitz Fic Containing No Stolen Century Scenes," where Krav is a Goldcliff music theory professor on sabbatical for a year at Neverwinter. except, in a truly shocking twist, who does he run into on the premises but some weird guy named Barry Bluejeans who seems oddly familiar to him...

oh yeah and Kravitz is unknowingly a lich too in this one. for eighth bird reasons. guess that's useful context

(also TYSM reese for asking about this one, because I've really been having some motivation issues lately, but this premise was quietly calling to me like a siren song — and I ended up writing more than I've written all week, just in the process of making sure I had more than a mere paragraph to share with you!)

—

As of the second time Kravitz sees The Guy, he’s willing to hazard a guess that their Monday-Wednesday schedules look the same. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except — except this time, The Guy sees him too. And doesn’t say anything, just kinda smiles and waves — but for Kravitz, this might as well all be fucking nightmare fuel. 

Shit, does this guy know him? He still doesn’t know this guy. Was this guy important? Is he supposed to know this guy’s name? Is this guy his boss? Does this guy sign off on Krav’s fucking stipend? Kravitz should goddamn remember where he saw that weird fucking sweater vest-and-denim jacket combo going on before! Is he already armpits-deep in an academic faux pas? Raven Queen almighty, spare him from an academic faux pas on just his third entire day —

Kravitz smiles through gritted teeth, and waves back. The guy pleasantly returns his gaze for about five more microseconds, and then bustles away through the crowd, turkey club and napkins in hand.

Oh. He seems like a nice enough guy. And Kravitz likes to think he’s a nice enough guy too, honestly. Other than, like — to students who create a whole percussive instrument out of crunchin’ on Fantasy Fritos in class. Or to Derek, from the Goldcliff Fantasy Senate. Or to those freshman who kept calling their trombones “tromboners” until it, like, wasn’t funny anymore; like, Kravitz used to actually chuckle at that joke, until they ruined it for him. Or to —

You know what, actually. Never mind. The point is, this guy seems nice, and Kravitz is… also able to seem it, so… maybe the fault lines of a massive academic feud aren’t quaking beneath Kravitz’s boots after all. Maybe this Neverwinter sabbatical really will be a break from all the drama — so deep breaths, bud. You’ve got so many ways to figure out this guy’s name before he starts actually speaking to you — you’re gonna crack this case open before he can even say “tenure.”

[meowmeowriley]

Hi! First ask ever and English is not my native language so sorry if i mess up something or sound strange.

Please, i need to know more about 4, 5, 9, 12 and 13 of your wip list. Anything you want to tell because i am frothing at the mouth at all of them but 4, 5, 9, 12 and 13 in particular.

Thank you thank you thank you! I'll give you a little bit of each of those fics! ❤

4) Oh, Brother. Funny thing about this fic, it was supposed to be a one-shot 😅 too many people liked it though, so I had to keep going. I actually just uploaded a new chapter today! A little summary - Soap and Ghost's families think they need help getting together, so they organize an aquarium date! (Plot twist, they did not need the help, but they loved the excuse to be around one another) It was my first attempt at keeping the boys in character, I think I've done okay.

5) I Don't Think We're in Space Anymore. Oh look at that, another one that was supposed to be a one-shot. Honestly this fic is the one I've put the most effort into. There's a ton of art linked to the fic, drawn by myself and my friend. Ive even been working on a hand written Journal for Soap for this AU. Pictures of those pages are in the fic, and here on Tumblr. Ghost is a shape-shifting alien, and Price decides to keep him. He's violent and destructive, and he's viciously protective of his team. Gaz and Ghost bond over star gazing, Ghost and Soap are both insanely horny for one another, and Laswell pretends she's not as attached to Ghost and his alien quirks as she actually is. (She loves him dearly.)

9) Is That Gonna be a Problem? This is the fic that was supposed to be my first attempt to write a realistic and in character version of the boys, but then Oh, Brother happened. In it, Ghost had met Johnny and his twin sister Jenny when they were kids, and decided to reconnect as an adult. It's going to follow Simon and the MacTavish twins as they get to know each other, and eventually how Simon and Johnny got together. And then of course, the 141 learning that they were together the whole time.

12) Outlaw Outta Time. I absolutely love Red Dead Redemption 2. One day I had the thought that Dutch Van der Lind would absolutely love Phillip Graves, and the idea grew from there. Its gonna have Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, and Rodolfo getting mixed up with the Van der Lind gang, looking for Graves, and trying to go home. All the while Arthur watches (established relationship) Ghost and Soap, and is jealous because he's been pining after a certain clumsy photographer (Albert Mason) but won't allow himself to have him. This story is another that I want to make a Journal for Soap, and also one for Arthur, so it's going to be a hell of a lot of work, and I'm excited for it! 😁

13) This one, I have the least for you. It doesn't have a name, all I have is the idea. I myself use they/it pronouns, and I honestly think Ghost would too. For this fic, Ghost would've been born female, had top surgery, and takes testosterone. Ghost is aware they present male, and therefore never corrects anyone for using male pronouns. Soap is straight. He's sure of it. Except Ghost gets him all hot and bothered. He's not sure how to feel about that. This fic is absolutely gonna end with Ghost riding Soap.

Thank you again for the ask! I hope this was sufficient, but if it wasn't, let me know!

[averseunhinged]

it's wip wednesday again, and because i'm incapable of just looking at something and then putting it aside for later for my own good, here's a new chonk of last week's soulmates au.

“Tell me, how have you been feeling the past six months or so?” He tutted at her preemptively. “The truth, please. No polite, little social niceties. There is method to my asking.”

“Awesome. Love talking about my feelings with people I barely know.” Caroline stared at her feet as she walked, arms wrapped around her waist, and struggled to speak. “Not great. But things have been busy and stressful and a lot has happened. I haven't had time to do anything but keep cleaning up the next mess. And no, I'm probably not totally okay, but people are counting on me. So, I have to be.”

"How has that manifested," Elijah pushed and then specified, "for you?"

“I don't need a therapist," she snapped back, and Elijah watched her expressive face solidify, blank and hard with a nearly inhuman stillness, a struggle with temper he had become familiar with after living with Klaus for so many years. 

“Fortuitous, as I am not one.”

“Oh, please!” she laughed with an edge of agitation. “I'd bet my entire college fund that you used to hang out with Freud and Jung just to learn how to do your whole shtick a little better. How to intimidate your enemies most effectively in under ten words.”

“Ten? Excessive. Under five, whenever possible.”

She laughed again. “See! You're trying to be funny! That has to be some kind of sneaky, psychological warfare thing.”

“It's a matter of honor. My sense of humor is nowhere near as terrible as my brother's, as you previously implied.”

The remains of her fit of temper dissipated with her laughter, tendrils of it drifting away like smoke. She sighed. “Fine. I'm...sad. Which makes sense. Everyone keeps leaving. Or dying. Which is also sort of leaving. I might have a few abandonment issues, which is totally understandable and a normal thing to have. Just because I can't brush things off like everyone else, that doesn't make me crazy or weak. I try so hard to make everything okay for everyone, but sometimes it's too much. i'm supposed to be the strong one. The good one. The one who solves everything, even when no-one will listen. But I can't sleep. And nothing tastes good anymore, not even fries or ice cream or anything. Sometimes, I even have to force myself to feed. And I–” she stopped speaking and glanced hesitantly at him. “It's going to sound crazy. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I would appreciate it,” he said truthfully.

She slowed down, strides shortening, and stared into the distance as though the answers might exist there. “It's like this restlessness inside of me. Like I need something, but can't figure out what that thing is. I just know I don't have it, but I have to keep trying. It makes me so frustrated with people and I don't even understand why. They never say or do the right things, but I can’t fix it or even explain what the right things are, because I don’t know. I just know it’s all wrong. Nothing feels right anymore," her voice broke. She swallowed more than once, but it still came out in a choked murmur, "And I'm always so alone."

She further stretched her shoulders, tightening her arms around her torso. Hugging herself, he realized. An attempt to hold herself together, as she'd likely been for over six months. He stopped walking. He reached out to the girl and stopped her as well.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Elijah said, his hand gentle on her elbow, their only point of contact. “My apologies, but thank you for explaining.”

“Why? I don't understand why you'd even want to know.”

“Because I had to be sure. And because Niklaus tried, but you're far more lucid than he is at the moment.”