#long fic supremacy

[unanswered-stars]

So well deserved this lady literally does it all without fail, every, single, time.

Creator Highlight - Week 13

Welcome to our Creator Highlight Week 13! And thanks for understand while we took a brief hiatus!

Every week, we’ll use this space to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use so much of their free time and creative energy to share their work with us and bring our imaginations to life via writing, art, visuals, and many other creative mediums. 

This week we want to highlight @acourtofladydeath, a massively talented creator for fic within the fandom, especially for poly and multi-ships! Her stories are imaginative, intriguing, creative, and absolutely stunning–they’ll keep you hooked and hoping for more when you’re done! She has a gift for managing to have the characters all in brand new situations while also keeping their personalities from canon so spot-on that you just can’t get enough. 

Her nominators said the following: 

“Her works are imaginative and beautiful. But can we talk about her RANGE?!? I’ve never seen someone that can have me sobbing into my pillow one second with All Things End (my absolute FAVORITE) and filling my heart with joy the next like her series, And So Our Life Begins, does for me. BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE lol because her 3 Jewels and Welcome to the Family series are so daring and hot and a true treasure to the fandom just like everything she writes.”

“Writing aside, this creator is actively trying to make the fandom a more loving and accepting place. Introducing the Poly ACOTAR week into the fandom with an effort to bring awareness to and acceptance for all kinds of valid relationships.” 

“She is a wonderful person with a big heart who is always trying to make sure people feel welcome and appreciated. We’re all lucky to have her.”

As evident from these submissions, she is not only incredibly talented, but also extremely well-liked within the fandom and constantly contributing heart-stoppingly good works. 

Her contributions are always fantastic, and we hope to see much more from her for a long time to come!

Below are some of our favorite creations.

All Things End | Azris

And So Our Life Begins | Azris

Welcome to the Family  | Elucien, Berlain, Erislain, Elain X all Vanserra Brothers

The Fawn, The Fox, and The Fiend | Eltamcien

Our Greatest Adventure | Nessriel

Stairway Snoops | Azris/Nessia Polycule

Thanks so much for bringing such incredible, creative, and lovely works to our fandom. You’re such a bright spot in this community, and we’re so glad you’re here!

You can find more of @acourtofladydeath on her Ao3 and Masterlist!

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[crazy-fangirl2524]

My biggest flex will always be how I knew Neil was the more feral and dangerous one than Andrew this whole time even before tsc and seeing the entire fandom freaked out makes me want to kiss and hug Nora and just thank her for finally finally showing everyone and I’m not just crazy

[dalandan012]

You think when scott's hair is finally starting to grow out and he has to tuck it behind his ear it triggers neuron activation in wallace. Scott will be playing videogames on the tv one day and tuck his hair back, while wallace sits there across from him trying not to jump him and give in to the same urges he had during university

[myokk]

my favorite bookworm

[pinkrasberryfish]

Chapter 32 of A Court of Blood & Mercy - "A Portrait of Her" is now available! 🖤🕯🔪 Surprise! You only had to wait a week! Enjoy! xoxo

[harringroveera]

“We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington!”

“Yeah, eat it, Harrington.”

Steve pushed his sunglasses over his head, staring at the guy in front of him, with golden curls under the dim light of the room, beers dripping down his bare chest and stomach, making his skin glisten.

Billy Hargrove was his name, and he only knew it because he’d overheard it from Tina and Vickie when they were talking about his ass.

Blue eyes looked back at him, and Steve swallowed, tipping his chin up to exert confidence.

“Is that so?”

“Unless you wanna go against him,” Tommy quipped, egging him on further.

“So this is the King Steve everyone’s been talking so much about,” Hargrove said, taking a step forward. “I expected someone better looking at least.”

He widened his eyes, his lips parting in pure shock as Hargrove smirked at him, like the cocky asshole he was.

“And who is this?” His eyes darted away to Steve’s right side, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. “Why the long face?”

Before Steve could register what was going on—he could barely even react—Hargrove crossed the little space in the room, grabbing Nancy by the face, and he kissed her.

Steve’s stomach dropped at the sight, of Nancy clutching at Hargrove’s jacket, her nails digging into the leather. She didn’t push back, and Hargrove didn’t pull away.

And there Steve was, standing frozen on the spot like a stupid statue, watching some new guy kiss his girlfriend. Like an idiot.

The moment they broke away from each other, Steve finally found his voice to speak up about whatever had just happened.

“That’s my fucking girlfriend,” he murmured. “What the fuck, Hargrove?”

“Oh, shit,” Hargrove said, turning to him with the corner of his lips turning up. “Sorry, man, guess I gotta make it even now.”

He flattened his hand on Steve’s chest, shoving him against the wooden surface, before he kissed him.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement, and to say he didn’t enjoy it would be a complete lie.

Hargrove’s lips were soft against his, and wet, tasting of beer and smoke. Their mouths slotted together, and Steve found himself moving on his own, returning the kiss with the same passion Hargrove put into it.

No wonder Nancy didn’t push him away, because Hargrove kissed like a god, like he wanted to drink down the sound Steve made and consume him whole. It felt almost too forbidden for him to want more of it.

He splayed his hands on Hargrove’s sternum, feeling his damp and warm skin underneath his fingers, gliding them up to the curls of his hair and tugging at them, dragging out a low groan from the other guy.

The music was still blasting in the house, and he could hear the faint sound of surprise from some people around him, but he truly could care less. All he wanted was to kiss Hargrove.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispered against his lips when Hargrove pulled away, attempting to break off the kiss.

“Just taking a breath, Harrington. Don’t intend on stopping any time now.”

The smirk was sly, almost predatory, and Steve claimed his lips in another kiss. Deeper this time, with tongue, and he could taste Hargrove more clearly, feel his body flushing against him more warmly.

Hargrove’s hands were sliding down his sides, pulling at the belt of his jeans to haul him closer. The kiss was fervent and hot, stirring something in the pit of his stomach, and Steve did nothing but keep Hargrove close to him.

He didn’t want to let him go, or to end what was going on, which surprised him, to put it mildly.

Well, until something shattered loudly, and Steve finally yanked himself away from Hargrove’s incredibly tempting lips.

It was just some guy, apparently, who broke a precious vase in Tina’s kitchen, now listening to her scolding while he wiped his hands on the white cloth he was wearing, burping out a drunken sound instead of apologizing.

He looked back at Hargrove, at the pair of blue eyes that were fixed on him, at his swollen lips, and he was very aware of how Hargrove’s hands were still on his waist.

Of course, once he reeled back into reality, he remembered what had happened, and who was here.

He turned to look at Nancy, who was staring directly at them with her mouth slack and her eyes widening. The look of betrayal painted her face.

“Nance,” he uttered. “Nancy, wait, I can explain. I didn’t—”

“You know what?” Nancy held her hands up in the air, shutting him up instantly. “Have him, Hargrove.”

“What?”

“Yeah, take him, whatever. I don’t care. You look better together anyway.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Hargrove said. “You’re giving me your boyfriend?”

“Why not? Seems like you two get along well, especially with that kiss,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “And I will go get drunk. Have fun.”

When she turned on her heels and walked away, Steve looked back at Hargrove with a scoff.

“Did she just break up with me?”

“You did kiss me, Harrington.”

“You kissed her first! And she liked it!”

“What? Are you saying you didn’t?”

His words faltered in his mind, and he gulped. “I…did not say that.”

“Good, I was hoping for that answer,” Hargrove said, cocking his head to the side. “Wanna go to the bathroom and finish what we were doing?”

“What? Now?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

Hargrove withdrew his hands from his waist, and Steve frowned. He looked around the room, and no one was paying attention to them at all. Even Nancy was standing in the kitchen, chugging down the alcohol while Byers talked to her.

His heart drummed in his chest, and Hargrove was still waiting for him, patiently, with that damned smirk on his face, like he already knew what Steve was going to do.

He groaned, grabbing Hargrove by the wrist. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

[drivelikeiido]

want me

(mohawk) matty can't seem to keep his eyes off of you at the bar

matty healy x f! reader 

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smoking and alcohol and a lil smutty but no actual smut (maybe i’ll write it in a part 2 if y’all are interested in that ?) BUT NO MINORS IDC GET AWAY

notes: sorry this took so so long to write i’ve been in a writing slump but i’m back !! and i apologise for edging you with not actual smut once again but that’s just how it is ! i prefer writing longing over actual smut anyways but if y’all want a part 2 i could be persuaded. also this idea originally came to me while listening to crying lightning by the arctic monkeys so do with that what you will. 

Stereotypical summer weather is a rarity in England so the minute the sun came out Matty invited you to join him and the boys and their girlfriends at the pub, which is how you’ve ended up in a rather seductive battle of wills with your boyfriend. He somehow thinks his staring over the top of his sunglasses while playing a game of pool with the boys is subtle but in reality his feelings towards the short summer dress you’re currently wearing are blatantly obvious, which means you just have to tease him a little - you play your own little game while he plays his.

You sit on a table opposite where the boys are playing, sharing a pitcher of some fruity, more alcohol than mixer, concoction with the girls, chatting and catching up in low content voices while you make the most of the golden sun that warms you and casts a glow onto your skin. You hadn’t seen all the girls in some time so you appreciated the chance to catch up with them in such a relaxed setting, everyone’s mood boosted by the appearance of the sun and the weather it brings. The stuffy British heat gradually makes you feel uncomfortable and you begin to fan yourself with an old cocktail menu sitting on the table, your hair moving with the breeze and exposing your neck and sun soaked chest more, an action that doesn't go missed by Matty’s watchful eyes. He still pretends to be fully absorbed in his game of pool but his glances over your way become more and more frequent, his hands becoming restless as he taps out some unknown staccato beat on the bottle in his hands, the beads of condensation running down his lithe fingers and dropping to the ground. The boys are far too used to Matty’s frequent musings and distracted behaviour when it comes to you so they pay no heed to his distracted state, Hann poking his side when it was his turn to play, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

At one point Matty catches your eye and you wave innocently over, your neutral appearance betraying the playful thoughts running in your head. The girls at the table have also taken notice of your boyfriend’s not so subtle staring, giggling amongst themselves and encouraging whatever mischief you’re thinking of starting with hushed voices, comments being thrown around about how obviously obsessed he is with you. However that wholesome notion is short lived as one of the girl’s nudges you and motions over to Matty, his dark eyes trained on you as he looks you up and down once more, moving his sunglasses further down his nose, his actions far from subtle as he devours you with his eyes. Ross too clocks onto this and kicks Matty’s sneakered foot in a jokey manner, his laughter floating into the air as you hear him jokingly scold your boyfriend to “Behave”, a subtle blush makes its way onto Matty’s cheeks in his embarrassment at being caught by his friend. He raises his hands, pool cue still clutched in his left, in a show of apology, grinning over to you as he mouths “Sorry, love”, however both of you know this apology is nowhere near genuine as he truly has no plans whatsoever to cease his overt appreciation for his girlfriend.

His hands return to his side as he pulls out his cigarettes, offering them to the boys and lighting one up himself, his cheeks hollowing as he inhales the acrid smoke. You have to hold in the sigh threatening to spill from your lips, your fingers finding a sudden interest in the blue striped straw in your glass, anything to take your focus off the hypnotic man in front of you. You try and think of anything else to calm your racing brain but thoughts of your boyfriend’s pretty plush lips circling around the cigarette and how his talented fingers balance it in his hands do nothing to quell the unignorable need you’re already feeling for him. The cigarette rests on his lips that now seem etched into a permanent smirk, your boyfriend taking pleasure in knowing how the sight of him smoking always has this effect on you, his nicotine addiction working in his favour at this moment in time to make you as desperate for him as he is for you.

Matty’s cigarette has since been savoured and finally put out, however the thoughts of your boyfriend's talented fingers and pink lips still occupy the front of your mind and go straight to your core. The suspended smell of smoke in the air is so resemblant of your boyfriend it’s almost intoxicating and results in your mind being only filled with thoughts of him; all social expectations and fears are quelled purely by the overwhelming distraction that is Matty. You nod and hum absentmindedly to the girls’ conversation at the table, their subtle smirks giving away that they know very well where your mind has vanished off to as your fingers begin to drum energetically on the table, your body language practically oozing unrest.

You begin to notice the alcohol’s buzz beginning to wear off, melted ice being all that’s left in the pitcher. One of the girls nods to you, breaking your attention from the realm of smutty daydreaming and gestures her head back inside the pub, “Why don’t you go inside and get some more? Give him something else to look at” her smile wide and entertained, her eyes shining with mischief as you make out a wink from behind the shadowed lenses of her sunglasses. You nod, smiling, appreciating the sudden development of a plan. You stand, brushing off your already rather short dress of imaginary lint, just giving yourself another action to use up your excess energy. As you pick up the empty pitcher and quickly drop a glance towards Matty, who of course is already looking at you with eyes resemblant of an abandoned puppy as he looks over the dark lenses of his sunglasses. You see a quick smile grace his features, (the cause of which a mystery to you) and the stray hairs on the top of his head sticking to his forehead slightly due to the sheen of sweat covering him, the sight shouldn’t have as much of an effect on you as it does, sending another wave of heat through your body as you imagine scraping your fingers through the coarse short hair at the sides and brushing back those loose hairs of his mohawk, tugging slightly as you do so. You drop your head to dispel these thoughts and push your way back through the door into the bar, dropping the pitcher back onto the bartop, ready to order another round for the girls. Your mouth just opened to speak when you feel a gentle hand grab your wrist, turning quickly in alarm you’re immediately relieved to see the dishevelled hair and dark eyes of your boyfriend. An apologetic look graces his features for a second, his hand dropping to yours and squeezing, his voice low and gravelly when he says “Follow me”. This is the first you’ve heard his voice in nearly an hour and it alone has the power to have your knees buckle. He must sense the question ready to spill from your lips, as his voice becomes more demanding “Now, darlin”. His authoritative tone erases any other thoughts you may have as you begin to follow his loudly booted feet into what you recognise to be a stall in the men’s bathrooms.

As thankful as you are that your boyfriend is as needy for your body as you are his, the public nature of this rendezvous does bubble a bit of panic into your chest, a feeling that is immediately forgotten as his toned hands grab your face and he slots his lips onto yours.�� The suddenness of the action catching you by surprise but still eliciting a neediness in you as you push your body impossibly close to his, kissing him back with pent up fervour that has been brewing beneath your skin since he put on that leather jacket before leaving the flat hours ago. The residual alcohol and danger of the situation heightens your senses and you swear you could floatl from how euphoric you felt, Matty acting as your own personal drug, the taste of alcohol and smoke on his lips going straight to your head. A breathy laugh escapes your throat as you rest your head in the crook of his neck while he attacks yours with kisses and small bites that you just know will need to be extensively covered tomorrow.

“Matty someone will hear us” your voice hushed and restrained as you try your best to repress the wanton moan that has been threatening to spill from your lips since the moment he touched you at the bar.

He pulls back from your neck to deliver a quick and frenzied “Good. Let them. Once they see my beautiful girlfriend they’ll know why I couldn’t wait any longer” that is more panted than spoken into the side of your neck. His hands are like vices on your waist, forever squeezing and gripping at the skin there, as if no matter how much he touched you it would never be enough to satisfy him. His words elicit a whimper from your throat beyond your control, a knowing smirk into your neck being his response.

You move to return the favour, sucking dark bruises into his neck, his grunts and deep breaths from above you your own personal melody as your hands run through the long mop of hair on the top of his head, tugging on the strands then lightly scratching through the buzzed hairs on the sides, making sure to kiss the exposed skin behind his ear, knowing how it makes him crumble, this clear in the small restrained whimper that is only audible due to your extreme proximity; you two are practically one entity as you’re pressed up so closely together in this stall. Matty’s hands make quick work of sliding under your dress and ghosting over your ass, his fingers surprising you in their sudden desperation as they grope and squeeze at the skin there. His hips grind instinctively into yours, both of you sharing the same air as you gasp in synchronicity, normally you’d find something poetic in that action but your brain was so hazy with thoughts of Matty that nothing else would compute. Your skin burned with need for him and the more you kissed and licked at his skin the more your world began to centre around the delicious smokey smell that clung to his hands and his clothes, and you grow a little jealous at its ability to be in constant proximity to him, the smell lingering on him like it was inherent to his being, a factor you adored about him.

Your hands instinctively move to unbuckle his belt, however his lithe fingers move to shadow over your wrists, dropping a gentle kiss to your head “As much as I am desperate for you to do that darlin’, I will not be able to control myself if we go that far right now”. He kisses away the small pout that has formed on your lips, his nose momentarily nudging yours as he rests his forehead on yours “I promise I’ll make it up to us both when we get home but right now I’d rather not have both of us walk back to our friends and the rest of the pub smelling of sex, we’d never hear the end of it”. 

Your voice whispers in a poor attempt to hide your desperation and surprise at his audacity “That’s not fair Matty you’ve literally been eyefucking me all night and now you wanna be all responsible? You’re such a cockblock”. He barks out a laugh at this and threads his hands into your hair, pulling and stroking at the strands, “I’m being responsible. I’m trying out something new” he jests, dropping a quick kiss to your nose.

You drop your head to his chest, kissing the exposed ink that peeks out from the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know if I like it” you mumble with a smile, hands grabbing at any piece of him you can salvage. 

“You're so evil Matty, you’re such a tease”. He almost coos at your flustered state “Trust me I know the feeling sweetheart, it is taking every single ounce of self control I have to not flip up this excuse for a dress and have you against this wall until the only word you can say is my name”. 

You give an exasperated moan at this into his chest and hold onto him even tighter as warmth surges through you again. “You’re really not helping”, he huffs out another low laugh and lifts his finger to your chin, guiding you to look into his sparkling, lust-filled eyes, his voice earnest and seductive when he says “I promise, promise, I will make it up to you when we get home, trust me I need you too darlin’. It’s just if I didn’t touch you now I think I would have lost my mind at that pool table”. His hands now cradle your face like a precious piece of china, his slender thumb rubbing slowly across your cheek, the soothing action working to calm you both down from your shared frenzy. You lean into him again as your lips fit together, it’s a kiss filled with want and the hanging desire of what’s promised and you have to force yourself to pull away from him. You truly think he could steal all the air from your lungs and you’d let him, as long as you were kissing him you could die happy.

He gives you one last quick peck and fixes any of your smudged lipstick and smooths out any wrinkles on your dress, his hands ghosting over your skin a little longer than one would deem innocent. You too try to get him presentable, giggling as you wipe away the lipstick on his lips with your thumb and run your hands through his mohawk a few more times than necessary, loving the feeling of his dark locks passing through your fingers. 

Together you exit the bathroom, your skin already turning red with the fear that people will know what you’ve been up to. Matty tells you to wait by him while he orders another pitcher for the girls and drinks for himself and the boys, his hand absentmindedly grabbing yours while you wait at the bar, empathising with how embarrassed you must be feeling but also not so secretly revelling in it, his dominant streak momentarily taking over.

You pass through the door to outside once again, squinting at the sun that threatens your vision as you emerge. The girls whistle at your reappearance, giggles floating through the air at your flushed appearance and nervous smile. You avoid all the staring eyes, the boys too grinning knowingly in yours and Matty’s direction. You separate from him as you set the pitcher down at your shared table, your blush definitely giving away the answer to any question as to what you were up to.

 “Sorry for the wait guys, there was a queue” you hurry out, still refusing to make eye contact, knowing you’ll crack and start laughing as soon as you do. Charli laughs and nods unconvinced, her voice mockingly slow “Yeah, sure there was”. This sets the girls off laughing, you soon join in, your head falling to your hands in embarrassment. The boys too now looking over your direction and laughing, George patting Matty on the back, his cheeks now matching yours in their cherry pink state, the blush creeping all over your chest adding to pigment you’ve already gained from the sun’s heat. What you don’t see in your all-consuming fit of embarrassment is Hann reaching over to Matty’s neck to wipe off some remaining lipstick that stains there, his smile is infectious amongst the boys as they poke fun over Matty’s flustered state. Once you all recover from your fit of giggles you look up from your hands over to Matty who is, of course, already looking at you. He mouths the words "I’m so in love with you", his bright smile is back and so contagious that the blush on your cheeks immediately becomes immovable, a smile in your words too as you mouth back back, "I’m so in love with you too, Matty". His perfect smile graces your eyes as he returns to his game with the boys, his attention more focused on the game than before, his hands only ever leaving the cue to push the dark strands of hair that fall in front of his vision back into their assigned place. He only ever looks up to you every now and again to wink, an action filled with so much desire and expectation for when you get home, the subtlety making your whole body flush with excitement and the impatience to get back to the flat to see what awaits you grows even stronger.

[dipplinduo]

I had a conversation with my cousin and I couldn't refrain myself from sharing this!

My cousin: Quick question, why do you have so many drawings of dresses of yellow and white and apples?

Me: Ribombees

My cousin: Like the pokemon? Why?

Me: *Hands her my phone with Sweet and Sour Dipplins*

*15 minutes later*

My cousin: *Crying over the amount of fluff and angst she just read*

Me: Now you know the reason I randomly cry when im reading something in the fic.

Us when DipplinDuo posts the most heartbreaking chapter and having theories that DipplinDuo is planning something:

Oh my god I can't wait for the magnum opus angst chapters to come out now LOOOOOOL. Stilllll got some ways to go to get to 'em, but one of them is on the horizon finally :))))))

(But first...two specific targets will be in danger in a few chapters...:D)

[souenkun]

silver linings | dad lance & silver son

If asked, Lance wouldn't be sure if he could tell exactly who was the one answering Silver's question. But, regardless of who was standing in the present, he knew that they both cherished the same, pure-hearted child no matter how different he may look in their respective memories, so the next words that broke the silence were nothing but the simple truth, parental love willed into existence as easy as breathing. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Silver."

Or: after pushing himself too far while training for the Arceus Cup, Lance found himself learning an important lesson taught by the past, present, and future versions of his son, Silver.

This work is a part of Champion Lance Week 2024 for Day 2, with the prompt "Family" (@lanceappreciationblog).

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @inej-ghafa-deserves-the-world @thatdelusionalnerd

If anyone wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's blood, wounds, fear of losing loved ones, ptsd references, and violence/knife violence references

AO3 link: Daughter of the Rain and Snow - Chapter 129 - She_posts_nerdy_stuff - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 128 - Kaz

It was almost an idyllic morning to wake up to, whether it should have been or not. Kaz only realised how long he’d slept for when the sun was dancing across his eyelids and a gentle, welcome breeze was drifting through the window. The curtains were drifting slightly in the soft wind and the spring air was not too cold, but fresh enough to prickle against Kaz’s bare arms. He closed his eyes again for a moment, feeling the sunlight leaking through the curtains warm against his face, before looking down at Inej. She was still asleep, lain against his chest, her hair a dark mass falling over both of them. Kaz smiled, lying still and just watching her, listening to her breathing, feeling her heartbeat pressed against his own, until she woke up. He had no idea how long it took. Inej lifted her head slowly, blinking, and turned to face him. 

“Good morning,”

“Inej? Inej, look at me, Inej, please… Inej!”

Kaz should’ve been here. He should’ve been here. He should’ve been here.

“Good morning,” he smiled, reaching out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, “Did you sleep alright?”

Kaz knelt on the floor by Inej, breaths catching in his throat, blinded to the commotion around them as he pressed his gloved hand against the wound in her side. What had he done? What had he done?

“You’re okay,” he tried to tell her through a wavering voice, “Inej, look at me, you’re okay,”

It was an ugly cut. The knife had gone in deep but Alby hadn’t had time to pull it out again, so for as long as Kaz could keep pressure on it would be okay, wouldn’t it? He could tell himself that all he wanted, but his glove was still wet with Inej’s blood. There was an unpleasant slash on her thigh as well, that only when he looked properly did he realise the thin handle of a much smaller knife was still protruding from.

What had he done? What had he done?

Inej’s smile was wide as she leant up towards Kaz, lips pressing briefly against his.

“I slept very well,” 

The Healer seemed to take an eternity to arrive. By the time the girl came in - barely teenaged, let alone a competent bloody adult - Kaz had pulled Inej onto his knee and was cradling her head with one hand, still trying to keep pressure on her side with the other. Her blood was soaking into his clothes. He could feel her pulse throbbing through the wound as she reached one hand up and delicately touched his cheek with the barest trace of her fingertips. Kaz’s gaze flicked between the knife in her side and the knife in her leg, panic and fear and anger and a thousand other things screaming silently with every tiny movement that he made. There was less blood at the wound in her leg, but he was pretty sure it was in a similar position to where she’d had stitches just a few weeks ago. Even though those had been fixed by a Cororalnik, Kaz doubted it was good to have another wound so close.

“You’re making a dangerous habit of this,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, almost laughing, “Getting used as a pincushion?”

“How are you feeling?” Kaz asked as he stood and stretched, finding his cane where he’d left it leaning by the desk before offering Inej his arm to stand up.

“Surprisingly good, actually,” she smiled, and Kaz found he actually believed her.

Of course, surprisingly good in this case could more than easily just mean not on death’s door but Kaz decided to take it as a positive. Inej rolled her shoulders, sighing happily, then released Kaz’s hand to stretch and touch her toes, and promptly fell over.

Kaz’s heart leapt as he moved to grab her arm. His cane slipped on the shiny wooden floorboards and both of them tumbled, holding each other tightly, crashing messily on top of each other. Inej groaned but she was laughing too, leaning heavily on the side of the bed to pull herself up before collecting Kaz’s cane and offering him it or her arm to stand.

“Are you alright?”

“Balance aside?” she smiled, but he could tell it was bothering her, “I’m okay,”

Kaz breathed.

“I’m sorry,”

Kaz was an idiot. He had left her all alone, and for how long? He didn’t know how many hours he had slept for, but sunset had been a distant thing when he drifted and now night had long since fallen beyond the palace walls. The sky was pinpricked by stars. 

“Inej? Inej, please, keep talking to me… Oh Saints, Inej, I’m so sorry,”

Inej’s eyelids were flickering. Kaz was covered in her blood. Both of them were. 

“I’m so tired,”

“Inej? Inej, look at me-”

“Shhh” she whispered, shaking her head, closing her eyes, “I’m sleeping,”

“Don’t you dare,” 

Kaz shook her shoulder. And then he shook it again.

“Inej? Inej!” he shook her once more, and she just sighed quietly, “Where the hell is that Healer!?”

“Kaz…”

“Just a few more minutes,” he promised her, “Just stay awake a few more minutes for me,”

She stroked his cheek again, and as she pulled away his free hand caught hers in the air. He let her run her fingers beneath the rim of his glove, shivers coursing down his spine at the feeling of her skin against his wrist.

“For you,” she murmured.

“For me?” he whispered.

Her fingers slipped higher, pushing the leather up along his palm to slowly remove the glove. She was touching his wrist, then his palm, the back of his hand. He let her pull the glove away and closed his fingers over hers; it dropped to the ground next to her and lay still. Some black ominous thing, like a dead animal at their feet. Their fingers intertwined, wedding rings clinking against each other like distant bells.

“For you,” she smiled, “I can make an exception,”

She slipped her thumb into the tiny space between their palms, and Kaz felt his shoulders tense. He was fighting the need to lean over, to close the space between their lips. That was ridiculous. He was holding her stab wound, feeling her blood spilling over him, and still he was thinking of the soft brush of her lips against his own. He tightened his grip on her hand, her thumb suffocating in between them.

“Inej, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t say that,”

Kaz watched Inej now, breathing slowly as she sat down in front of the dressing table. She winced as she reached up to brush her hair, then tried to carry on as though he hadn’t noticed. Kaz hesitated for the briefest second, then stepped forwards and took the brush from her hand.

“Kaz-”

“One braid or two?”

Inej watched his eyes for a moment in the mirror, then smiled.

“Two,”

When the Healer had finally arrived last night, she’d not been long followed by Fiona Kittel and the Nazyalenskys. Kaz had been aside by that point, breathing an almost painful process as he watched the Healer leaning over Inej with his heart in his throat.

“What happened?”

“You’re incompetent fucking guards happened,” he hissed, not moving to meet anyone’s gaze until he glanced briefly at Fiona, “Where’s the girl?”

“Asleep, I think. I heard-”

“Don’t leave her alone, I don’t know where Rollins is-”

“In custody,” said Nikolai, calmly.

Kaz did lock eyes with him then, no change in the ferocity of his tone as he repeated:

“Don’t risk leaving her alone,”

Fiona glanced almost nervously between Kaz and the royals, then vanished. Zoya frowned, but said nothing. It took several long, nerve-wracking minutes for the Healer to announce that Inej was okay. More than okay. Whatever medicines - the Healer had said drugs and Kaz’s heart almost careened off course before the girl clarified she meant the drugs that Genya had given her, why the hell did the wording have to be so unhelpful? - were left inside Inej after the procedure were still working well enough to keep her stronger than she otherwise would have been after an injury like that. She had lost a lot of blood but the blade hadn’t hit any vital organs, and it would be within hours that she would start to feel normal again. Normal. Kaz didn’t feel very convinced by that word. But Inej had awoken not long after he’d banished everyone else from the room and changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, and she claimed to barely feel the pain at all. He wasn’t entirely certain he believed her, but who knew what kind of medicines Genya had given her to dull such things? It made him shiver to think about it too long.

Inej hadn’t wanted to go back to sleep, once she was up. Kaz insisted that she at least rest and they had lain together on the bed for a long time, talking softly. She told him she’d woken up during the procedure and he made a mental note to find out which Corporalnik had screwed up so he could show them their own innards and see how they enjoyed it, whilst he cradled Inej’s head against his chest and tried to convince her that next time it would be okay. He would find a way to be there with her, no matter how many arguments with Genya Safin it might take. She told him what had happened when Alby came in and he told that he knew that he had Maya’s contract and everything the girl had said to him. He told her what had happened when they went downstairs. Inej had almost cowered slightly at that, saying that she should have done something because Fiona had told her Maya was convinced Alby had spoken to her on the boat, and Kaz thought of what the Heartrender had told him about the river seeming to take control of Maya in her deepest hysterics as he promised Inej that she could not have changed anything, that she had done everything she could. She had given everything and more for that girl, and damn it to hell if Kaz let her think she should’ve done better. He had no idea what time it was when Inej drifted to sleep, still leaning on him, or when he fell not long after, but it must have been late for them to have stayed in bed this far into the morning.

Kaz had just about finished tying off Inej’s second plait when there came a knock on the door. His fingers froze before hastily finishing the task and he stepped away from her, searching the nightstand blindly for his gloves as Inej called for whomever was behind the door to come inside. Fiona leant nervously into the room, eyes flicking over Inej and clearly trying to ascertain how well she was doing before she spoke.

“We have a... slight problem,” she pursed her lips, “Maya’s missing,”

[kabanos-ek]

Hello!

I decided to try out and write something with Good Omens involved. You know, to test the waters or whatever the saying is.

It didn't exactly turn out how I had it in my mind but I don't think it's bad either.

Short and fluffy and calm

Experimenting with his style was one of Crowley's favorite things he could do. Especially in regards to his hair. Though he never changed its color once. The demon could do this any second, snap his fingers and be a blonde, or a brunette, or have jet black hair, like the pits of Hell he once inhabited. Would match his jacket and other clothing he wished into existence. But no, Crowley liked the coppery, rusty color, it somewhat matched his personality. Someone once told him he had typical orange cat energy? He still doesn't quite understand what the fuck that meant.

But he did experiment with its length and styling.

Crowley especially found it convenient that he could miracle it to his liking. Mostly because one day he felt most like himself in a short hairstyle. Cropped sides, longer top, few strands falling at his eyes, maybe a bit messy. The other days, long, wavy hair, sometimes tied in a loose bun at the back of his head, making him even more confident and sure.

But Crowley loved having long hair in moments like this, in Aziraphale's old bookshop, on a calm, warm and sunny day, with nothing else to do than sitting and doing nothing. His Angel sat on a vintage looking couch, legs slightly spread to let Crowley sit on the floor between Aziraphale's knees, back turned to him, slightly slouched, head rested by the cheek on the Blonde's knee, and an arm hooked around his calf, the other laying limp on the Demons lap, sunglasses held in a loose grip. His eyes were closed and his facial features relaxed. Aziraphale's hands tangled in copper curls and strands, making random braids and combing trough it.

Crowley's breathing was slow and quiet, sometimes a content sigh escaped him but he would deny it with all his might if anyone asked. His mind was comfortably fuzzy and cozy, with nothing that could cause any stress running trough it. He didn't really need to breath, but the action was automatic in the body, and he didn't bother fighting it.

Aziraphale felt quite similar. Also relaxed, his thoughts quiet for once. When he got bored of playing with his Demons hair alone, he would snap his fingers and miracle a book from a nearby shelf in his hand, without moving his legs even an inch, careful to not disturb the sleeping serpent at his feet. He'd hold the book with one hand, the other laying atop Crowley's head, sometimes moving a bit, the action even resembling a petting action a bit. Only taking it off to turn a page.

And when Crowley's legs grew tired, a feeling of hundreds ants walking on skin, he'd tighten his hold around the Angels leg, then slowly rise his head up, blinking out the fog from his vision and slowly stand up. He'd settle on the couch instead, next to Aziraphale, lay down on his back, setting his legs over the armrest and laying his head back on the lap of his favorite being in existence, going right back to sleep.

Moving the book to his other hand, Aziraphale would lay the now free one on Crowley's chest, feeling his (not really needed) heartbeat.

[smolavidwriter]

So one of my longest fics so far and probably my most popular fic is A Little to the Left.

Status: Finished multichapter fic. Prequel in progress.

Summary

One small decision, one thing done differently can ripple outward and change the course of history. In this world, Tanjirō decided not to cut his hair and it makes all the difference. ... “You could protect me… yeah, protect me until I find a wife–ugh no what am I saying.” The blonde shook his head before looking Tanjirō up and down. Tanjirō had a funny feeling that he was not prepared for what was coming next. “Actually um I…I could be your wife.”

As a TanZen fan, I really adored the idea of Zenitsu asking Tanjirō not to protect him until marriage but to take responsibility by marrying him. It's such a fun trope. This fic absolutely grew in size compared to my initial notes. I ended up touching on the Red Light district and some of Uzui's issues too (briefly). This one is a lot of humor and fluff and fun. My favorite tag is still homoerotic hair brushing. Makes me laugh to this day.

[reallilystuff]

hey has anyone made a alien yn yet. idk how im gonna tag this shit help...

also like has anyone made a vanessa/reader yet or am i just gay for her..... uhhhh..... think something is wrong with me

[yourlocalstrangenonbinary]

Jim: Man, Bular really hates us

Toby: Yeah. Perhaps he's homophobic.

Jim: But, we're not gay Tobes.

Toby: We're not!?

[hyper-fixated-princess]

I’m about to finish 'Dealing with Our Demons' by Ravenyenn19 on the Ao3 —spectacular by the way— so I NEED new Kanej fics… any recommendations??