#length: 2k

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hypothetically if the merguru fic went over 20k would. literally anyone read it 😭😭 pls be honest

[aprito]

hi! do you have any recommendations for sasosaku fic with more than 10k words?

a couple (a lot) of the top of my head (burned into my retina) in no particular order finished and unfinished (they are all important to me)

!!! IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE BE A COOL KID AND LEAVE A REVIEW !!!

hope springs eternal by simplelations (wholesum retelling of p1 naruto but with same age au sos i have made fic art that's how you know the love is real)

incantations by thirrin (extremely underrated howl's moving castle inspired magic au)

the neighbourly thing to do by koneko_taichou (wholesome middle aged sos are neighbours au. especially love the reason ss divorced in this fic and cant wait to see where this goes)

against all odds by koobabear (unfinished but platonic canonverse sos that's very fun)

these days by stormdragon6 (the one and only extremely long and extremely fullfilling mutual pining sos childhood friends modern au. scenes from this fic are burned into my brain)

a second chance by invisibleninja12 (200k literal retelling of p2 naruto with same age au sos where sasori got yeeted into the future and sakura is committed to help him before he makes the final turn for the worse. incredibly wholesome)

deep into the woods by muffin_ride (twisted beauty and the beast meets horror meets sos in their 40s far too old for this bullshit. thats the type of content we love around here)

lost year by omgitspocky (the fic that literally started my obsession with same age au basically sakura goes back in time and not only distracts sasori from defecting but also gets to hang out with a young tsunade)

bait and hitch by aelynthi (after the fantastic previous fic homesick comes one of the funniest takes on the fake dating trope with outrageously good characterization. i am emotionally invested in this one)

acaso mi madre engaña a mi padre? by takewaelel (i recommend this cheating fic at least once every full moon cycle because it has some of my favorite characterisation ever. every reread i discover some other amazing take)

lady of the blackthorns by vesperchan (amazing fantasy sos au. and thats why vesper is the GOAT)

pyrrhic victory by watevermelon (same age au sos with sasori's parents alive is one of the three ships and we're rooting for them)

grading on a curve by sayyikes (100% pure comedy and we're here for this painfully realistic and hilarious modern au)

sword of damocles by angelofdeath10 (medieval sakura is sasori's knight au. sasori is extremely pathetic but that makes it fun. i recommend everything they write in general <3)

spring fever by tsuki hoshino (sakura quits her job with sunan royalty and is ready to settle down and have kids in the middle of sasori's 10 year meticulously planned how do i get her to date me plan. watch as he desperately tries to bring his plans to fruition in the most sasori way possible)

invocation of the muse by nenalata (toxic college au sos that ruined me as a person, it's so fucking good even if i took immense psychic damage after deluding myself sos somehow will make it work. you need to read this immediately. this is exactly how i envision a bad ending outcome)

porcelain by shoujojunkie (not 10k but i will rep this doll maker falls in love with his tiny vain selfish creation fic until the day i die)

[mollyrolls]

im actually pissing myself holy shit

i just finished my 8 page rhetorical analysis right? tell me why this shit is the same length as ONE FIC CHAPTER. HELLO????

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

"i have to go to sleep" i say

"i really have to go to sleep" i say again, four hours later

[leupagus]

Say what you will about Martin's writing style (and I've said plenty) but I do think he's got the White Walkers' mythos worked out for a future book and IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO NICE IF THE SHOWRUNNERS HAD DONE 1/100TH OF THAT WORK SETTING THEM UP

Gus: I am mad all over again that there was absolutely zero explanation given as to why/how the Night King operates or how his powers work or why he chose now to attack or ANYTHING ELSE

Gus: on the plus side it means I get to make up a whole subplot that, not to brag, I'm comfortable saying is at least as good as anything D&D could've made up IF THEY HAD EVER EVEN BOTHERED

Gus: but like - okay so craster's infant sons get sacrificed to the Night King, who them magics them into White Walkers as babies

Mardia: Yep yep

Gus: so does that mean there's a white walker nursery

Mardia: Omg

Gus: do they have to change diapers

Mardia: LOOOOOOOL

Gus: is there a white walker daycare center

Gus: how does the night king TEACH his lil adopted monster babies

Gus: is there like storytime around the - well not fire

Gus: does the Night King remember what it was like to sit around a fire?

Gus: does he miss being a human and all his rage at the spell the Children of the Forest put on him to kill the First Men has curdled his brain?

Gus: what was he DOING for like 8 millennia, just hanging out?

Gus: did he get really good at ice fishing?

Gus: DO THEY EAT?

Gus: where the fuck do they get their snazzy outfits from

Gus: are there white walker tailors

Gus: what's the currency situation

Mardia: Lololololololol

Gus: I'M JUST SAYING

[harrydracompreg]

- Title: Wrapped Around Our Hearts Author: Anonymous Prompt: Self Prompted Word Count: 3.3 k Rating: Teen and Up [PG-13] Contains: Slice of Life Spoilers: No Spoilers Marked. Who is pregnant: Draco Notes:

Many thanks to all who helped make this so much better. B, E, T and T - you all are the best!!

Summary:

Harry has middle of the night baby duty with a very wide awake baby.

Wrapped Around Our Hearts Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

[dyshonor]

the importance of burning birthday bread

Randal knows the season his birth is supposed to be from.

In most- but not all- places he's been in, the leaves change color. They had in Elibe, which was really the only time it had mattered. He hadn't appreciated it then, the continuity of it all.

That was fine. Placing importance onto dates seemed a silly thing regardless. At this point, who cared?

—

"Keep a diary," he tells Emma. "Write something for every day."

Her bow seems to twitch with a life of its own. "…my progress isn't that interesting," Emma says, like she's ashamed. "A-and you know I'm not one to slack off, even if you or Shade aren't around."

"That's not—" and Randal catches himself, because that would be rude. He tries again. "Emma. When we don't move through time the same way as everyone else, it's easy to lose track of the days."

She stares at him, unimpressed. "The sky is blue. Duh Randal, I'm living out this whole world-hopping thing just the same as you." She turns back to the task she had been tending to, which was massaging out grass stain from her tights into a bucket. Hesitates. "I- well, I appreciate the sentiment. But it doesn't bother me too much."

There's no intentional rudeness in her voice. She's simply baffled, a bit talked-down to. This is an understandable reaction, particularly when Randal has stumbled his way through more accidentally demeaning comments than these.

Here, however, there is the reluctant admittance of concern. Emma is thirteen, was probably thirteen when she got roped up into this whole mess, and will not (will not. he emphasizes this to ensure it) be thirteen forever. She does not deserve to second-guess herself at every memory, when she experiences three autumns in a row because the Chaos has elected to toss her whichever way it goes.

Randal sinks himself into the dirt besides her and sighs overdramatically. "Well, y'see, my memory's awful fading me."

"M-memory?"

A grim nod. "When y'get t'my age, these sorts o' things creep up on ya without even realizin' it. I'll be needin' you to remind me."

Quiet. Randal chances a side-glance at Emma. Her scrubbing has faltered. He presses on.

"And besides, when we're separated, I'll wanna know-"

"If."

Randal fights off the sigh that rises in his throat. The guilt that trickles up his back at stumbling through such posturing- and intentionally, this time- does not pass him by. He keeps himself silent and lets Emma do the work.

Sure enough, she relents.

"W-well, if you're gonna be this much of a poop about it…"

"Mm."

"But you've gotta do it too, okay? So I can know what you're up to!"

"'course, kid." Randal does always tend to get what he wants, even if only for a bit.

—

When he turns soft-cheeked and bright-eyed, he wonders how old he is.

Right now, he can make vague summations: whatever has sent him back into this finer form, free of wrinkles and stubble, is likely not Boundless Chaos. Thus, any rules he had figured out beforehand of determining his age had been merrily thrown out the window.

Randal massages his jaw, traces his finger down the edge of his earlobe. Were the scars that were supposed to be there erased, or had they not been formed yet? Either way, their memory was there.

How old is Randal now, really? His body is: twenty, ish. It has freshly won itself a mansion a good score of years ago, it is the lord of fistfuls of pawns that turn their nose and swords for it.

He is: forty? Fifty? Old. He does not feel old, not even in a young-at-heart sense. Every memory that that older self had dredged together is held in a mental tome, read out to him as if by an entirely different person.

A strand of too-long hair trails in front of his face. He pinches it, twirls it between his fingers.

Here, in the academy, they actually keep dates. The twenty-third of the Wyvern Moon, the tenth month of the calendar year. Regardless of how much time has passed, this is the 'date' of his birth.

That older him had never been affected by things like that. He had passed by the date the first time he had stepped foot in this academy and not mentioned it to anyone, not had anyone mention it to him. There is no grand 'desire' built into him, and so he should follow suit. If he really is that 'same Randal'.

His fingers drop. What did that Randal like?

—

Here is what Randal did during the anniversary of the forty-fourth year of his birth, unknowingly:

Pull an all-nighter to see the sunrise

Rebraid his horse's hair

Make fresh bread

Turn in early for the night

Here is what Randal does during what might be the anniversary of the forty-fifth year of his birth, knowingly:

Dresses, then re-dresses when he catches the stain on his sleeve

Comes late to breakfast and eats cold food

Gets bitten by his horse

Gives up and lies on the grass

Why hasn't he left yet? Sensibly, tiredly, he knows this is what he must do. The second he woke up like this he knew he needed to plod his way on over to his mansion or what ruins remained of it. At the very least, get away from whatever sort of set-up that Randal had established for himself.

Yet here he was, pussy-footing his way out of taking any action. He did not need anyone else here to tell him that he was pretty definitively pathe-

He shuts his eyes. What sort of person wallowed in self-pity on their birthday? Faintly, he recalls making it a whole good-and-proper affair, before time had changed around him. Inviting neighboring lords and making it quite clear to everyone involved his staying power, that he had his shit together.

Hm. So it hadn't been much of a celebration as much as it had been an establishment of power. Not that any of that had mattered in the end. Great thanks, Boundless Chaos. Siccing that blue cunt onto him was pleasant icing on the cake.

One day will bleed into the next into the month into the year into the decade, and he will still be twisted nicely by whatever wants to have his way with him. Then, inevitably, he will be wiped clean back onto the slate of that older him, and nothing he will have done will have mattered. It won't even be written down.

He sits up forcefully at the thought.

—

The calendar let him know. That inconsequential day, which didn't even reside in the mental book of memories he kept, so useless it had been, forces itself into paper. A scrawled on recipe of the bread he had made that day.

'prety damn good. make again.'

He hadn't. He hadn't even bothered to spell the reminder correctly, so why'd he take enough of a step to write the recipe in clear lettering?

Randal bites the bullet and hands it off to one of the kitchen staff, who wear smiles that grow more strained when trying to make out the lettering. Ugh. This was embarrassing. If there weren't bigger things he was afraid of, he'd lie and say that it hadn't been him who wrote it there.

They rewrite the lettering on a napkin, admitting as they hand it off to him that they're making some educated guesses on a great deal of this.

That's fine.

—

He burns it. Of course he burns it.

Even after sucking it up and extending a begging hand towards the staff, begging for a touch of starter, even after nabbing flour he probably shouldn't have owned, even after stealing a salt shaker from the common room table when it was explicitly forbidden given the frequency that they disappeared, he just burnt it.

It sits in the open, still-lit oven, far more akin to a block of coal than anything edible. Hell, it seems to glow just like one, too.

What did he want from this? He doesn't entirely know. Probably something romantic like: here is this memory, it was good, I was here. Transient and forceful and an all-together good thing, where even if that dastard wanted to dismiss and forget it entirely, wafting scents would resurface the thought. Might even be something he missed.

Of course, Randal could not even conjure up this much.

He hangs his head and bunches his hair up in the back of it, practically ripping at his ribbon. Useless, useless, waste of—

"Randal?"

He startles up. There's that girl again- Emma. All dressed up in concern and worry. Shit.

"A-ah, Emma! You know, girls like you really shouldn't be—"

"Take it out!" The concerned expression on her face explodes into near-fear. "It's going to catch fire!"

"I- oh! Uhm-"

—

It sits in front of them, burnt and soggy all the same. An altogether disgusting lump.

"Can you read?" Emma asks plainly enough.

"Wha- yes, I can read! Of all the daft-"

"Mmm." She folds her hands. "Okay. I was gonna offer to read you the instructions in the future, since I thought you were just winging it out of necessity, but I guess not…"

Randal blusters. She hadn't even meant it as an insult, which only makes it sting all the more. "I'm not incompetant, you know."

Emma doesn't respond, instead just entertaining him with a roll of her eyes and a prop up of her chin. She chews noisily. "I guess that'll be somethin' else to tell him…"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Or write down. If he doesn't remember." She snorts a bit. "Let him know what shenanigans you got up to. He got up to." Her face twists, as if she bit something unpleasant. "Sorry, uhm... it's still weird."

Randal doesn't have anything to say to that beyond the usual protest of being the very same, so he doesn't. "You record these kinds of things?" he ventures instead.

Emma shrugs. "He doesn't tell me to do much long-term stuff, so I might as well… and I like having a diary! It's fun flipping through old entries." She pats her pocket, evidently where it's being kept. Ever on her person. "The world is so big! Keeping track of it is nice."

He stares, painfully aware of the owlishness of his blinks. "I see," he settles on instead.

There is a temptation, then, to ask: what will you write about me? The Randal that stands before you now, will you make special note of it? Will you recount other memories of him, to others? Probably, she didn't seem to discriminate. And if all he wanted was to be recorded, then-

"Well. Time to get to it."

Before he has the time to ask her what it is, Emma has ripped off a piece of the bread and slammed it back.

"I- excuse me?"

She holds out a piece to him. "Come on! Wasting food is no good." She speaks around the bite in her mouth. Randal is somewhat shocked she hasn't gagged on it. "It's your responsibility, y'know…"

She looks expectant, but not hostile. Randal takes it from her. It's not as if she could've poisoned it in the seconds she had her hands on it, probably, and even if she could, she probably wouldn't risk that dastard dyi-

"You've gotta eat it. It's your mess, y'know." She swallows thickly. "It's not the worst…"

Randal takes a bite. The freshly soggy, charred crust pairs nicely with the gooey, underbaked center.

—

It's not as if that dastard would care to remember what Randal did, and Randal finds it even less likely that he'd actually read the entries in here, but he writes it down anyway.

on how to bake a loaf of sourdough bread. properly. for days that you want to remember.

gather ingredients: yeast - salt - sugar - flour - water, lukewarm. find someone to get starter from.

begin.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

wrote nearly 1k words on one single whumptober fic today 🫶

[vampirejuno]

Just solved extremely aggravating and challenging (for my beginner ass) coding problem in the absolute stupidest way possible. So mad I can't even put it into words

[elisemochi]

I think i am finished with my Bokumono exchange fic

which yay

its only like 2.5k but that's a pretty typical wc for me

like that's like top 5 on my sort by word count list because most of my fics fall more in the 1k to 2k range (out of my 70ish fics only 8 actually go above 2k fdsjfakd

so like i'm happy with that

I still have to edit though which ew

[sankttealeaf]

maybe. new chapter of let sleeping dogs lie tonight?? new chapter tonight king??

[altruistic-meme]

*crawling out of february covered in dirt and soaked in blood*

i finally finished my event fics <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

strangling my past self How Did You Write Reasonably Sized Fics So Easily

[star-my]

berserk tiger - i. inception

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Kim Seo-ah (OC)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 1.7k

CW: mentions of stalking, threatening

A/N: I have very little plotted out for this series. It's gonna be random and sometimes I'll post non-chronological pieces. No beta so feel free to point out typos or give concrit. Compliments are always nice. Moodboard photos are taken from Pinterest, edit is mine.

| Series Masterlist & Description | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Taglist (open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @bangtanwritershq

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

The quick tempo of his footsteps sped up even more as she glanced behind her. He was gaining on her quickly. Practically running, she ducked around the corner, coming face-to-face with a man in black.

Gasping out a quick apology, she made the executive decision to ignore the stranger danger signs blaring in her mind. She was in enough danger from non-strangers as it was–besides, most crimes, especially violent ones against women, were committed by people the victim knew and were close to. Statistically, she was safer with this random guy she’d found all in black in a dark alley where no one else was around…wow, she wasn’t safe anywhere, was she?

Ignoring everything but the fact that so far Random Guy hadn’t pulled a knife on her, she cleared her throat and widened her eyes pleadingly, begging him to play along.

“Babe, I was waiting ages for you! What took you so long to come get me?” she exclaimed, taking his hand in hers, unwilling though he was.

He stepped out of the alley into the street and saw who she was running from. His gaze flicked down to her, then back at him. 

His grip tightened on her hand. 

A black car came gliding to a stop at the curb in front of them, and a man in a black suit climbed out of the driver’s seat to open the rear passenger door.

Random Guy handed her in with the grace of one born into a chaebol family, then closed the door and turned to face her pursuer.

She glanced through the smoked glass to see what was going on, surprised that she could barely hear any noise through the car.

The driver flashed a bright smile at her through the glass, blocking her view. Wow, he was really pretty.

The smile disappeared and he opened the door, letting Random Guy get in. She scooched over, tugging the hem of her dress down, aware she didn’t look her best at the moment. The interior light showed his gelled hair, soft features, onyx-sharp eyes, and a faded scar running down the right side of his face.

He studied her silently in return, making her uncomfortably aware of her wind-blown hair falling out of her braid, the perspiration beading on her body, and her rumpled clothes.

Putting a bright smile on her lips regardless, she extended her hand to him. “I appreciate your helping me get away from him. I sincerely thank you.”

He shook her hand, his large one dwarfing hers, his long fingers cool and clean. “You’re welcome. What is your name?”

“Oh, right. Kim Seo-ah.”

“Min Yoongi,” said the man just as his driver got in at the wheel. He threw him a startled look, glancing between her and her rescuer with an unreadable expression on his face.

The car started with a barely-there hum, and Min Yoongi turned to her again.

“Could you tell me what was happening back there?”

She glanced down, smoothing her hem more carefully than it called for. “He’s my little sister’s ex-boyfriend, Lee Geum. He created debts in her name and decided that we needed to placate him; he thinks he’s some hotshot yakuza or something, like he’s playing at being Agust D or something,” she laughed shortly. “He’s been following me home from the pawnshop where I work for the past few weeks, trying to intimidate me into giving him our money and following me to see our new living arrangements. I’ve managed to lose him so far, but today he started getting closer and closer and I saw him with a knife in his pocket. It was a blessing that you were there.”

He hummed, uninterested. “How many men does he have working for him that he thinks he’s the next Agust D?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe twenty or thirty? He’s not a good leader.”

Min Yoongi coughed. 

“Have you gone to the police and asked for their help to deal with the issue?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, Mr Min, but this part of town isn’t exactly the most protected place. We’re all too poor to require any real guarding. What valuables could we possibly have? And I did try the police, when he threatened my sister, but they didn’t care.”

The driver clicked his tongue disappointedly.

“What if someone was able to do something about it?”

“Like what?” Seo-ah glanced at him curiously.

“Sent evidence of his crimes to the police or something. Do you think that maybe they’d take you seriously and do something about it then?”

“Maybe,” she admitted dubiously.

“Are you any good at acting?”

She glanced at him suspiciously. “I’d say I’m decent. Why?”

He simply flattened his mouth into what she suspected was a half-smile but could have been a grimace. She took the hint and dropped her line of questioning.

With a gasp she realized that the car had stopped outside of a luxurious villa in Seongbuk-dong. 

The driver opened her door, extending his hand to her. She gingerly took it, stepping out onto the pebbled drive as she took in her gated surroundings. 

Min Yoongi’s warmth alerted her to his presence behind her.

“Er…”

“Come with me.” He took her elbow gently, leading her into the house, past a man in a suit like the driver’s, but looking considerably more dangerous. 

Min Yoongi led her to the kitchen, putting a kettle on to boil for tea and pulling out two cups.

He paused, hand on a cupboard door as he glanced back at her. “Would you prefer something a little bit stronger?”

“I’m alright with tea. Thank you. May I ask why I’m here?”

“Because I’d like to talk to you.”

“Without asking for my permission?” she raised an eyebrow, dropping the formal tone.

He raised one back at her impropriety.

“You essentially kidnap me, I don’t have to add honorifics,” she shrugged, hoping to cover up the unsettling thought she’d been struck by, that she’d traded the devil she knew for the one she didn’t.

“I apologize. Would you like to join me for tea at my home?”

“I’d prefer to have you to mine as a thank you, but given your look–” she waved a hand at his suit–”and my home, this is the better option. I’d be delighted to join you, thank you for asking.”

He gave her another inscrutable, curious look as he poured the tea. “You’re welcome.”

She perched, feeling only slightly awkward and out of place, on the white leather seats at his marble island, gratefully taking the cup he handed her.

He stood across from her, his own cup in hand. 

“So, from what I’ve gathered from you, is that you’re the head of a low-income household, you’re in financial difficulty, your dongsaeng’s ex is threatening trouble, and there’s not much happening to address these issues.”

She swallowed a sip of the hot tea, feeling like the words had burned hotter than her tongue now was. That was her situation, but somehow the cold way he had laid out those facts threatened to tear down the defensive walls she’d built.

“Yes, that is the state of things,” she said quietly, already feeling the fuzz on her tongue from the tea burn.

“How much debt did the ex leave you?”

She swallowed another sip. “About thirteen million won.”

As expected of a man who lived in this area, he didn’t bat an eye.

“I have a proposal for you, then.”

She nodded.

“I will help you pay off your debts and take care of this ex, and in return you will enter a contractual marriage with me for five years.”

Seo-ah coughed, expelling the tea from her windpipe that she’d inhaled in shock. “You want me to do what?”

“Marry me. For five years. What do you say?”

“Why do you need a wife? You look fairly young, you’re rich and hot and appear to be influential.”

He smirked at her list of his traits. “Business reasons. There are some things I cannot tell you until you have signed the contract, if you so agree. I’ve been looking for the right wife for a while now, and I think you’ll be splendid.”

“Could I have a copy of this contract so I know what’s expected?”

Min Yoongi pulled his cell phone out and pressed a button. “I need the papers in the kitchen.”

A minute later footsteps sounded in the hallway, then a man in a suit jogged into the kitchen, carrying a small briefcase in hand. He paused as he took in the scene, then handed the briefcase off to Min Yoongi.

He opened the briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers, rifling through them to collect a handful that he handed off to  her.

She flipped through them, reading the surprisingly simple legal jargon. It looked aboveboard. 

She was getting desperate: some creditors were already hounding her enough without Geum’s pressure, Jinah would be needing to pay for her schooling, plus the usual living expenses…Well, she could use this stroke of luck that had fallen into her lap. She was well aware that this contract, though it sounded fair, would likely end in Min Yoongi’s favour, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. He was the best option at the present time and she would not borrow trouble from her future self.

“I’ll do it,” she declared.

The man who’d brought the briefcase handed her a pen, the clicking of the end sounding loud in the suddenly supernaturally still kitchen.

She signed her name with a flourish, watching the black ink seep into the paper. Min Yoongi took the pen from her and slid the papers from under her arm, scrawling his signature quickly and handing them to the man.

“The registration will come through in a couple days. Would you like to stay here until then?” he asked courteously.

She shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, and this opportunity, but I need to get back to my sister. I don’t like leaving her alone in our area, especially with her ex around.”

“Alright, I’ll get Hoseok to take you back. Thank you for signing this.”

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry despite the two cups of tea she’d drunk.