#my fics: add to fic tag

[goldeneyedgirl]

I would sell my body and soul for more of that demon Jasper fic :)))

Ask and ye shall receive, Anon. Also, I'm no longer accepting intangible essences in this economy because I'm pretty sure selling your body and soul will be the cost of a studio apartment soon.

I have a very specific vibe I want for the follow up, and right now, it's just not quite hitting it correctly, so this is a very early drafted scene. The 'Meet the Cullens' scene might pop up at Ficmas if I can get it right. I just need Jasper to be the right balance of 'I was imprisoned for long enough to be disorientated by the modern world', 'PTSD, my only friend', 'I am haunted by my demon self that wears my skin', and 'I have hope for the future.' And I cannot wait to do more world building with what Maria has done, and what Alice has learnt.

It's a short piece but I hope you enjoy!

--

The worst part is that he has to sleep.

He has to dream.

Neither he nor Alice know if that is because he needs to heal, or if that’s the burden of being changed. Alice promises to research it for him, but right now he doesn’t care. He resents it, yes, that his body demands something as base as rest. But of all the pieces that he’s been left with, sleep is the least of his problems.

(What does he dream of? Torture and torment. The flaying of skin. Burns that furiously eat right down to the bone. Words carved and muttered, read from books written and bound in old skin reeking of all the death and hands that have touched it. He dreams of complete hopelessness, of grief and betrayal and rage. And when he wakes up, it’s still in the back of his mind, always nagging at him.)

Sometimes it takes him hours to remind himself that he’s free. That he could walk out the front door and Alice wouldn’t stop him. Or rather, she’d run after him to make sure he was okay, that he had clothing and shoes and he didn’t need to eat. And she’d make him promise that he knew he could come home again.

(It wouldn’t be the first time. He hates that she doesn’t sleep. He hates that she hunts and butchers for him. He hates that when he looks at her, such a beautiful girl, he knows he could offer her anything, promise her anything, and she’d follow him anywhere. He could crush her heart in his hand, and she’d still smile at him and ask him if he was okay.)

//

“Jasper, can I ask you something?”

He tenses up when she says that; he’s been waiting for it. The price of all she’s done for him; the first aid, the housing, hunting and butchering, clothing, digging him out of that church. She’s just like the others, despite her promises.

“What?” His voice is cold and harsh, and he’s already preparing for the words that come next. Already planning on leaving her in pieces on the floor and let her put herself back together.

“I think we need to start working on your wings.” For a moment, the words make no sense to him because they aren’t what he expects. And then he’s taken by how gentle her words sound. How the worry skitters all over her. She’s actually concerned about him.

He hasn’t transformed back right, he’s known that for a while; his shoulder blades jut out unnaturally and he cannot get them to flatten. He’s gotten use to it - the mattress on his bed is soft enough that it’s not uncomfortable, and most of the clothing Alice has acquired for him are loose enough not to matter. He hadn’t given it much thought - his body has felt foreign to him for so long that another thing is nothing.

The idea that she’s been worrying is confusing.

//

He’s never been this close to someone in this form without being able to kill them. And yet Alice is so calm, as if every single instinct isn’t telling her to run.

She smells sweet, like he’s buried his face in flowers, with the sharp tang of something akin to ink. It’s nice in a way that he hasn’t had in a while. Alice really is extraordinarily pretty, her eyes are the most intense shade of warm gold with eyelashes that fan gently against her cheek when she blinks, and her pretty pink lips that twist into a frown as she examines his wings.

It’s a mystery to him why she bothers with the likes of him. From what she’s mentioned about her former coven, he assumes that she could be living in luxury. Be married to some bookish vampire gentleman who opens doors for her and…

He’s feeling warm and he’s not sure why, as her fingers trace the sinew of his right wing carefully. She’s wearing an old t-shirt knotted at the waist that leaves one shoulder completely bare, and the tiniest pants he’s ever seen on a woman. Practical for hunting, he’s certain, but nothing that he’s used to at all.

The jokes she made when she found him echo in his mind and he wonders if she was truly willing or if she was just nervous; she’s made no other allusions to… physical intimacies since that night. In fact, she’s been extraordinarily kind but kept her distance as he’s recovered. Not once has she crossed the threshold of his room; she launders the clothing, and brings back the flesh and blood of animals for him to consume, and generally leaves him be unless he seeks her out.

This cannot be all she wants from him - a grudging housemate. He doesn’t understand, not at all. He wants the truth.

The stitches are slow, as Alice carefully lines up each tear precisely, and this is a terrible intimacy. He flexes his fingers, trying to resist grasping her hips as she works, almost like a muscle memory. He does wonder if she’d even allow him to put his hands on her like this. When he looks like a demon, the worst of the monsters. But she hasn’t flinched away from him yet.

“Are you doing okay?” Her voice is soft, a warm puff against his face with that honeyed scent of her venom.

“Yes.” His voice is short, clipped, and she doesn’t speak again. Just keeps sewing. The pain is negligible to what he’s experienced in the past, and he reminds himself of that.

Finally (too soon) Alice pulls away. “Okay, that’s the first round done,” she says. He doesn’t even bother to look at her handiwork as he lets the transformation fade, so that he can at least meet her gaze.

“We’re going to have to break the humerus to reset your shoulder blades correctly,” she says. “It’ll hurt.”

The words are simple and he wants to scoff, but he knows. The wings are sensitive, and the bones dense. Breaking them in a special pain he’s lived through once.

He grunts in acknowledgement as he shrugs back into his hoodie.

“Let me know what you want to do.” She sets aside the sewing kit and for a moment he wants to. He wants to ask her to sit with him and talk about nothing - about her old coven, about what the closest town is like, about places she’s been. He wants something simple, something easy. He wants to bury his face against her, and breathe in flowers and ink and the sharp, toxic honey of her venom. He wants…

Alice smiles at him sadly one last time before she slips away, giving him the space she expects he wants.

[mylittleredgirl]

playing a new game where i talk about fandom using words that belong on corporate powerpoint slides like:

✨ we have to align our headcanons to authentically reflect our strategic mission and meet quarterly margin objectives ✨

sorry to everyone who understood that

[its-tea-time-darling]

im sorry, we turned your boyfriend into a mole. yeah and all of tumblr‘s interested in him now. sorry

edit 9/12/23 11.22 CET

and so it begins…

fic1, fic2 @pathsofoak ao3 tag. Mole Poem @thaliaisalesbian . fic by @tourmelion .

update:

ao3 link. please vote for mole scene in most underrated goncharov scene poll

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[newttxt]

sanji’s terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad day

utilities included, chapter 4 (mind the tags and rating)

masterpost

[wyervan]

stuff from this past weekend’s magma~ we have here…..

….a very stable and sane sun to match the moon a did a couple of weeks ago, aaaaaand….

…. @pluck-heartstrings ‘s moon, done in compliment with her own drawing just to the left. Believe you me, pluck is a very good magma drawin’ buddy. It was a very nice Saturday night~~

OKAY ALSO IS ANYONE ELSE HAVING THIS MAGMA COLOR WHEEL GLITCH?? it’s like locking up for me after moving it around like just a little bit and I have to refresh the page to move it again 😡 . I am on a tablet—not sure if that’s contributing.

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Despite everything... is it still you?

(more Dark Matter art for y'all. This fic is once again living in my brain rent free. @mysterycyclone)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

but i crumble completely when you cry . .

katsuki comforts you

katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

[blakbonnet]

my queers in christ we must fight homogeneity in fandom; it's evil and the death of creativity and a brain killer, we do not want to be smooth uniform identical shiny rocks, reading the same characterisations over and over again, we do not want to reiterate the same takes or the same fics, we want the creepiest weirdos coming up with shit so fantastical that it becomes fantastic, that is the point of it all

[lavellaned]

Solavellan fic recs

If you're like me and was disappointed by veilguard, here are some of my favorite post-Inquisition solavellan fics that are *chef's kiss* in my opinion.

Little Arrow by playwithdinos - post trespasser solavellan kid fic that is very angsty with some sweet, sweet papae!solas

Everything Stays by beaubashley - domestic bliss, Solas and Lavellan living in a cottage. They adopt a cat. The coziest damn fic.

Vir'vhen'an by RogueLioness - post trespasser. Well of Sorrows has actual consequences and Solas fucks up big time. Almost like the da4 regret prison but actually good.

Verhas'alhan - To Yearn for Wilderness by RosemaryBagels - Veil came down, Lavellan hides from Solas and makes a life in a little village. Solas is in prime yearning, sad, wet cat mode here.

Memory (series) by MistressDragonFlame - pre trespasser. Pure angst, hurt no comfort. Lavellan forgets all the events of Inquisition and the anchor is killing her. Solas finds out, bad times ensue.

Love Is Not A Victory March by Myrime - post trespasser, Solas and his forces are winning. Solas and Lavellan have a meeting. Angsty. Like something that I had hoped we would've gotten in da4.

Barefaced by playwithdinos - post trespasser but also Arlathan AU. Some time travel stuff involved. Lavellan has amnesia, but Solas remembers everything. Not finished but what is there is worth the read. Lavellan is Ghilan'nain's slave. Andruil is also there.

but never doubt I love by cedarmoons - Jaws of Hakkon angst. Post Inquisition, pre trespasser but with moments during Inquisition as well. Lot of angst, hurt but with comfort this time.

the diver's wife by magesamell - Lavellan makes herself tranquil kind of Seeker-style in order to defeat Solas, then needs him to come back to herself. Angsty solavellan road trip.

Hobo Apostate by broomclosetkink - Lavellan shows up when Solas is about to tear the veil down. Points out the hilarity between hobo apostate Solas and ender-of-worlds dread wolf Solas.

It Is Not Enough by NamelessShe - This is a chonky fic but it is one of my favorite post trespasser ones. Very lore heavy, I recommend this one for anyone who laments the lost lore and story threads in da4.

sleep like this by mortaltemples - The most da4 relevant fic on this list. Lavellan is a ghost, 10/10.

I will make you whole again by amorficzna - Solas tears down the veil, kills everyone, goes back in time to the beginning of Inquisition to be with Lavellan as Solas (...as he wanted).

Between Heartbeats by houndinghell - Ameridian/Telana parallel lovers are eating so fucking good in this fic. Lavellan makes the ultimate sacrifice to stop Solas during his final veil dropping ritual. Hurts so good.

The Healer's Bloodied Hands by geekyjez - post trespasser sick-fic. Classic hurt/comfort.

i'd rather flail like a mortal (than flail like a god) by crossingwinter - post trespasser. Angsty but with a hopeful ending, more hurt/comfort, another instance of Solas coming face to face with his vhenan's mortality.

The One Where Lavellan is a Nug by Feynite - I think this is my favorite solavellan fic of all time. Just please read it if you haven't, and read it again if you have.

[artsideblogofsorts]

STRATFORD HANDOFF

This is a little tribute I made for @rking200's awesome fic, "Stratford Handoff" where Simon hands Markus his clothes personally inside the bathroom stall and the VERY TIGHT SITUATION ends up turning it into the hottest place inside Stratford Tower. hihihih~

zoomed-in details and tiny rant below the cut!~ 💙

I love the fic very much and have destroyed several pillows since I read it bc i was unable to find the last ttwo parts *froths at the mouth politely* could I pwease get limk? I searched in ao3 too but im very bad at browsing through it so i prolly missed it. you might have also noticed that this is just for the first part, i am alas not strong enough to draw Simon like a swiss cheese, so i did not! this is all fluff and making out because that is fun and hot!

[benevolenterrancy]

Swords pining for each other's cultivator is my new favorite type of pining. Love your NieYao content! <3

I don't suppose we could get Baxia or Hensheng throwing a tantrum while Jin Guangyao / Nie Mingjue are away, leaving their owners to deal with the embarrassing aftermath?

Also, do you have any recs you'd recommend with these two?

this is the exact moment Nie Huaisang realised he was going to have to start meddling in his big brother's love life (con't: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Hensheng, on the other hand, doesn't throw tantrums but WILL sulk...

[timestillstands]

"Okay, okay," You laugh, leaning against the security desk, "Sundrop?" You suggest.

He shoots back a quizzical look, "What? No, I hate those things!" He scolds with a smile.

You roll your eyes dramatically. "Whatever. Spotlight."

His rays spin and he freezes, box under one arm as his free hand touches his smile wordlessly.

You smile, seeing your advantage here. "Gumdrop." Before you even finish, he's shielding his face away, giggling relentlessly, rays spinning furiously.

[blaiddraws]

2/3 comms for @rwyvernarts

tfw you got worms and you just wanna show them to your bestie and she freaks out for some reason 🙄

[typing-catastrophe]

You see me? - part one (stanford pines x hallucination!reader)

masterlist 1k words | warnings: none --------------------------------------------------

'This is new', he thought, looking straight ahead at something that he was sure he shouldn't be able to look at.

"Can you see me?", a beat of silence, "You can, can't you?" there was caution in your voice, almost as if you wouldn't let yourself believe it. "Please say something"

Ford kept quiet.

"Say something."

Nothing.

"SAY SOMETHING!"

Ford sighed, took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. The long hours and relentless work were starting to get to him. He put his glasses back on and turned back to his desk.

"No, no! Please!" you begged, panic rising in your voice.

'Perhaps not entirely new, but certainly concerning.' He couldn't recall if Bill ever did actively made him hallucinate when he was lucid, or if everything he experienced was already in the mindscape, but either way - what was happening in this very moment felt a bit too realistic for his liking.

What was happening, broken down to its very basics, was that a stranger stood in his study. And they simply had no way to be there. Apart from the fact that it was the middle of the night and the shack was closed, the way to his study was hidden and he did not hear the elevator move or open its doors. No one except for him should and could be here. No one was here when he came down here hours ago. There was no place they could've hidden. There was no possible scenario in which the situation at hand could've taken place. So the only option left, in his blurry mind, was that the last 30 to 40 years finally caught up to him and he was going insane.

At that moment he didn't even consider a paranormal explanation. Maybe because he believed the shack was sufficiently secured against all kinds of anomalies and supernatural occurrences. Or maybe because in the back of his mind, he always did ask himself when the time would finally come when his mind simply... snapped.

Years and years of stress, mind fuckery, all kinds of injuries and multiverse jumps must've left their mark on his psyche in some way after all.

But what did surprise him was the... well, normality of it. It was just a person. It would've made more sense to see Bill or any of the other things he saw in his frequent nightmares. Maybe the more severe ones would come later?

He propped open the new journal he had started recently and poured his thoughts onto the paper.

-

You could only watch in confusion and hurt when the man turned away and got back to whatever the hell it was he was doing all the time.

What had just happened? When he looked up from his work, his eyes landed on you. He didn't look through you like every other time and everyone else. This time was different! But why did he act like it wasn't? What was he doing? Why was he ignoring you?

Your newfound hope left you as abrupt as it had appeared. You felt so impossibly lonely again. Empty, distant, cold. Ever so cold with no source for the freezing feeling that seeped deep into your bones.

He could see you. You knew it.

This wasn't like the times when you were screaming and crying and pleading for him - for anyone - to hear you.

He. could. see. you.

And you knew it.

-

For a good minute, Ford stared straight ahead at the blank page. He desperately tried to form a coherent thought he could write down, but when he tried to get a hold of them, it felt like his metaphorical hands moved through fog, swirling eerie patterns into it, but never grasping anything solid.

The urge to let his head sink onto the table got stronger by the second, yet he resisted. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep inhale and straightened his back. He got this. He didn't need to sleep, not yet.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, stifling a yawn while doing so.

"Why are you ignoring me?" You had sat down on the floor a respectful distance away from him, legs pulled close to your chest, arms hugged tightly around them. Now you looked up at him with genuine hurt in your eyes.

You didn't know this man, and he didn't know you. The only circumstance that justified the sharp pang in your chest was the fact that he was the only one around actually being able to perceive you, yet for a reason unbeknownst to you, acted like he wasn't.

'Still there, hm?' he thought. He had hoped shifting his focus onto something else would help, but apparently, it did not. The figure was still present, still talking to him. He would like to take a proper look at it, but he was afraid that engaging with it would make the whole thing worse. You were not doing anything at the moment, and he'd rather keep it that way.

He yawned again, cursing himself for indulging in the weakness of his own body. It felt like it was betraying him, lulling him in and tempting him to lay down. But he knew what would inevitably follow. The pain, the torture, the guilt. He could not let that happen. Bill would not claim any more of his time and thought than absolutely necessary. He would not willingly leap into the open arms of whatever terror was already waiting for him.

"You should go to sleep. It's late. And you look tired." Ford almost scoffed at that.

All he needed was some good old, reliable coffee and he was as good as new. So he went upstairs, grabbed a new mug to set down next to all the other mugs on his desk and workbench, filled it to the brim with the dark, hot liquid and made his way underground again.

He was relieved to see that his hallucination apparently showed no interest in following him upstairs, but he was just as disappointed to see that it was still sitting in the same spot when he returned. He sat the mug down and with a defeated sigh lowered himself onto his chair.

It was going to be a long night.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated masterlist a/n: holy shit i did it! i found the time, energy and motivation yaayy @cynamon-ancymon thought this might interest you ^^ if not just let me know and i remove the tag

[aarafox]

When will antis stop tagging their hate rants about the thing they hate with the actual tag for the ship. Don’t do that. People are in the tag because they LOVE something and don’t want to see your hate in a tag that’s supposed to be fun. “But how will people see my post” believe me. People who hate the ship as much as you are NOT in the tag. The only people who come across it will be people disagreeing with you.