#not on ao3 yet idk if ill continue it

[creatively-cosmic]

i wanted to draw something different today soooo. i went n scrounged up a buncha pokepastas that ive read/pokepasta ocs ive seen around recently (mostly via mutuals)! ill tag creators and link sources under the cut, and ramble a little abt my thoughts... ^^

if anyone wants me to untag or remove their stuff from this btw let me know i didnt ask i kinda just. started doodling.

also half of yall i either never followed or only Just did i need 2 remedy that. ive been observing yalls stuff from a distance i keep forgetting to Press the Fucking Button is all

Your Friend Silver (Elias) by @uuberwachen ! this was such an INSANELYYY well written story and it stuck with me for DAYS. it really slots in the space in my mind that holds the classics and the twists and stuff with it genuinely got me. i cant recommend it enough if anyone who sees it hasnt read it yet. i got so excited when i saw a dedicated ask blog went up. i wish i werent scared of sending in questions to those things

Pixel Blue: 3DS VIRTUAL CONSOLE (2016) by @calybunz ! ahhh this was such a cool one to read! id see updates on it incidentally n i can tell a lot of work went into it- it was definitely worth it! its well written with a lot of heart.. maybe im just a sucker for stories that focus on a sympathetic blue.. the ending made me so SAD dude what the fuck. though my favorite parts were probably the dream sequences- godd the imagery of it all was fantastic!

Nuzlight (Mia) at @nuzlight-mia ! this is one i dont know much about yet, but her personality and design really captivated me when i first saw her! she seems like such a sweetheart and i look forward to getting to see more of her :3 i feel so bad for her situation.. the story n concept are all so interesting!

Missing Numbers (Green) at @themissingnumbers ... is our thing but green is hells (@hells1nfern0 ) dude that i have no sway in so. whatever. im unwell about him im excited for more to be revealed abt him :] i cant really say more than that since i know his secrets

FIRE RED FREE DOWNLOAD (Infected/Abandoned RED) by @aibouart ... another one i saw the design of first and was just IMMEDIATELY struck by. i love when stories twist in-universe things that're generally treated as normal and mundane and use its horror potential! a parasect parasite outbreak where the protagonist gets infected by that and ends up full of mushrooms...? thats the kinda shit i love to see >:)

Jack by @sparklingdemon ! cool ass design ive been wanting to draw and a cool concept to go with- the creepyblack protagonist as a grinning-reaper type where the ghost is an extension of him rules. i also loveee when designs utilize the fossil missingno stuff!! kabutops's arms lend themselves REALLY well to being a scythe

Glitchy Red: Retold by @lycankeyy / @glitchyred (idk which blog youd rather have tagged sorry). so i saw this when the official ao3 repost went up or got mentioned or something and it. really. resonated with me. like its hard to put my thoughts into coherent words, other than i had to just. Lay Down for the rest of the night after reading it and just feel whatever emotions struck me. it cut really deep but honestly- that's just fantastic. it's not often that i read something that makes me feel as viscerally as this rewrite did, and i have nothing but adoration for it because of that (we do have the plural bias which doesnt help regarding this lol). in my mind this is the definitive version of glitchy red.

Sanctuary AU (Aster) by @possiblyfunny . ANYWAYS ON A LIGHTER NOTE i fucking love aster more than i can put into words. given we get tagged in almost every piece of him that goes up its always such a delight to see and learn more about him! id been planning to draw him for months at this point but only just got around to it haha -v-" i look forward to seeing more abt the sanctuary au! please continue to tag me in those posts idc if it includes my guys or not i just care so much abt it

[h4venpha]

↳ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 — chigiri hyoma

playful bickering, realizing feelings, fluff

1.5k words, gender neutral!reader

NOTES: unfinished, lmao i lost motivation! idk if ill continue it or not but it could just end like that tbh, enjoy anyway :3

ao3 link: here!

Dark clouds rolled over the orange sky as the sun began to fall beneath the horizon. You walked steadily down the familiar road, falling into step with the boy next to you. Oftentime after school, you and Chigiri would complete homework together. You both happened to be in almost all of the same classes and it never hurt to have help from another classmate just to review notes or share answers. Unless of course they were just as frustrating and annoying as this classmate.

You stopped in your tracks to clutch your stomach, throwing your head back and laughing as Chigiri’s face grew with frustration.

“Why is it so funny to you? It’s not even that big of a deal.” He dead panned you with his arms crossed, his lips curled up in a light scowl.

You dramatically tried to catch your breath, annoying him further. “Exactly! It’s not that big of a deal! Yet you full on analyze the weather every day all for the sake of your hair?!” You exclaimed loudly, wiping invisible tears from laughing in his face. His scowl deepened.

“It’s not for my hair!” Chigiri argued back, lying straight through his teeth. You could see through him, but you stopped laughing anyway, a wide grin plastered on your face. “It’s so I can– so I can take an umbrella with me so I’m not soaked before I get home… that’s all.” He nibbled on the inside of his lip, hoping some part of his lie convinced you. He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to walk. You followed.

“Plus anyway, it’s your fault for lying to me this morning when I asked you about the weather.” Chigiri added while he rolled his eyes. His walking pace picked up from his annoyance. You easily keep up with him, as you always did.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you were late this morning and had to rely on someone other than your precious weather app. You were so set on fixing this part of your hair,” You’re grinning and reaching up and tugging on the one strand of scarlet hair that stuck out in the back. It flared out and up at a weird angle and completely ruined the flat and smooth look he went for every day. “Sleeping beauty.” You teased knowing that he often slept through his alarm. He turned around to swat away your hand.

“Stop it, don’t call me that,” He shot back, reaching to his head and to smooth down that one rebellious lock of bright hair. Ignoring his attempts, it flopped back up as his hand brushed past it. A silent groan was pulled from his lips. Chigiri considered taking his jacket from his bag just to cover his head with the hoodie so you’d shut up about his hair. “Whatever, just bring an umbrella next time, got it?”

“What?! Just use your own, stupid!” You laughed and yelled all over again. “You’re so dependent on me whenever it's raining, Hyoma.” You sang before jumping on his back, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Get off! We’re going to fall over!” He exclaimed, yet his body stayed upright with you practically hanging off him. You were laughing in his ear as you pressed yourself against his back. In a panic, he reached back to grab your waist to shove you off. And he’s walking away with a quickness.Why were you so close? Why was it getting warm all of a sudden? “Don’t call me Hyoma, idiot.” He said in a quiet voice. Of course you go skipping over to him.

“Okay, okay sorry,” Half heartedly apologizing as you fell into step with him again. A constant smile was on your face as you continued. “...You’re so set on using me and my umbrella for your hair but it seems like you just like the idea of sharing it with me,”

And Chigiri’s head whipped toward you, a deep, red fire in his eyes as he glared at you. “...No, it’s just so I don’t get wet, I don’t care about sharing with anyone.” He was frustrated with you and your annoying little voice and the way you always somehow found a way to frustrate him. He was so fed up with your antics… So why did his face feel so warm? Why was he suddenly thinking about standing with you under an umbrella, close enough that the rain wouldn’t catch on your shoulders? Why was he thinking about holding the umbrella with you, hands brushing and overlapping. It was stupid, you were stupid, umbrellas were stupid.

You smiled sweetly as he glared down at you. Somehow, it was a little… cute the way his eyebrows furrowed lightly and his lips turned into a small pout. Of course you would never confess that out loud, that wasn’t how friends were supposed to think right?

Suddenly everything around you went white in a flash, both of your faces dropping as thunder erupted from the stormy sky. You and Chigiri were so stubbornly focused on bickering and trying to one-up each other, that neither of you had realized just how dark it had gotten. The clouds were gray and rolled with a fierceness now. The sun had completely vanished and the orange sky was covered by the incoming storm. The sweet summer breeze had turned harsh and chilling without either of you realizing. Fat water drops started falling from the angry-looking clouds. Just a single one at first, and then two, and then several fell before it started pouring.

Pushing aside his conflicting feelings, he took ahold of your forearm. “Shit, hurry c’mon,” Chigiri cursed before he quickly pulled you along with him in the rain. The cold rain had already started to soak into your thin uniform: it rolled over your skin in small beads causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arms. But looking down, Chigiri’s firm grip across your forearm felt like it was white hot burning through your skin. Maybe it was the suddenness of the storm, but your heart began to beat a little faster.

Chigiri quickly pulled you into a small bus stop on the side of the empty street. He was practically soaked from the cold rain and he knew his hair was dripping with water. Yet somehow looking at you with chattering teeth and your see-through soaked uniform, he couldn’t have cared less about himself.

“Where did that even come from?” You joked lightly, curious as to why he was suddenly so quiet, but he stayed silent. Was he still upset at you for calling him Hyoma?

You wiped the water out of your eyes before watching him as he hurriedly pulled his wet bag off his back before zipping it open. He pulled out the black jacket he thought about using earlier. Quickly pulling you to the metal bench under the bus stop, he sat you down beside him, taking your arm back into his hold. To your surprise, he began drying you off.

He was so set on arguing earlier and now you saw none of it in him as he gently dabbed at your wet skin. You watched with gentle eyes as Chigiri silently wiped off the water on your skin with the cloth of his jacket. His hair fell messily, dripping water and clumping together. Suddenly you felt at fault. Maybe if you had brought your umbrella just in case, this wouldn’t have happened.

Chigiri brought the jacket up to your face and gently patted the water off your jaw. You saw the way water dripped down his own face, yet it only seemed like he cared about taking care of you. Why was he being so… kind all of a sudden? You half expected him to dry only himself off when he pulled his jacket out of his bag. But sitting here with his hand holding your chin up while drying you off? It was completely uncalled for. Yet seeing such a gentle look on his face compared to the usual scowl or bored expression made you feel warm even in the chilly wind.

Chigiri had no idea what he was doing. He felt himself move and suddenly he was holding your face in his hands tending to your cold skin. He could feel something growing inside his heart, some kind of fuzzy feeling that spreaded inside him and caused his breaths to come out shaky. You had been his friend for so long, so why did he feel like this now all of a sudden? It felt different and even a little scary, but he also wanted to chase after it and hold it close to his chest.

His head felt hazy as the hand holding his jacket slowly lowered. The white noise of the rain slowly faded out as he ran his thumb over your cheek. A want from deep inside him suddenly began to blossom in his heart that spreaded all over his body to each limb down to his finger tips. A fire had been lit inside him and it was catching like wildfire. It urged him to lean down and gently brush his lips against yours. It urged him to ignite everything and let the flames engulf him, completely giving in to his hidden desires.

[hballegro]

chapter 8. the biggie. part 1.

it is now i reveal a terrible secret to you all;

you can ctrl+f this chapter and compare it to If-- by Rudyard Kipling. and you will find that every god damn word in that stupid poem appears at least once. there are also a few paraphrased lines in there that you might notice.

WHY???

[i am very bad when it comes to gaging ppl's knowledge of poems i think everyone already knows, so yeah, the poem they're sharing is If- by Rudyard Kipling. easy for me to recognize personally because my mom memorized it all in school and would say it to me sometimes]

this process included me writing the whole thing out by hand, ctrl + f for all of the words, highlighting the ones that i had yet to use, and then keeping the list next to me while editing the first draft

and if you didnt notice this fact at all. that means i did a GOOD JOB!! cause its SUPPOSED TO BLEND IN SEAMLESSLY!!

yknow. its the moment hawkeye fell head-over-heels. and bj too, maybe. so ofc i had to include it in the chapter where they finally Kiss. they havent worked it all out yet yeah but. cmon. i cant just not. my options were to either have one of them reference it directly [im bad at that, and would be ham-fisted], or do this insane strat. and i picked the worst option. fuckin Knaves i hate you rudyard kipling for this and other reasons

also; shouted out in the ao3 endnotes but ill do it here to all sneaky-like, shout out to serpercival for both motivating me to put trapper in this chapter via loving the guy a lot and for letting me use their marvelous brain to pick out some subtle nods to Trapper John MD. i dont wanna @ people but hehe i can still link their page >:]

anyway: the painting peg talks abt being erin's favourite is California Spring, as she says, and here it is

folks i can finally use this meme i made back before i even finished chapter 4

shoutout to this video for being great to have in the bg underneath my sad love music to really set the scene. Loon moment

if you liked how papa Daniel Pierce acted in this, good! hes based off my childhood best friend's mom! she was very intimidating and always had this serious look on her face but the very first time i went over to their house she went 'psst. [best friend]. hball. come over here my husband is gonna come up the stairs and you should jump out and scare him' within the first 20 minutes!!

so basically hes stern/serious/intimidating [formal letters, the kind of man to not want to worry his son, idk just feels right] but goofy as shit and its all a facade [had hawkeye so he gotta be a lil silly, dinner table talk in Sons and Bowlers]

if you liked how i described hawkeye's childhood home GOOD!! i was describing my grandmother's house the whole time and you didnt even know. that ugly sofa is a thing my grandpa did. get pranked. always draw on experience when possible folks

i plan to have the next chapter out two days from now. THREE at the LATEST. and tomorrow i plan to publish the next Operating in Limbo chapter ~sometime~ before midnight [my time. central time.], or like 1am at the latest since i can stay up late tomorrow. unless the Troubles.

reward for scrolling this far; my saga of proto-names being shit like 'ooga booga' continues in the form of this being the working title for the Big Conversation chapter;

[merlyn-bane]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag, @frostbitebakery !!🥰🥰🥰

1.) How many works do you have on ao3

35, but that also includes some of pyro's that I'm listed as co on because I helped with so much of the plotting out and behind the scenes stuff

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

336,631

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Right now primarily Star Wars bc that's where my brainrot is, but I've been known to play around in a few other sandboxes. There are a few Star Trek fics on my AO3 as well, and there's a multifandom xreader sideblog floating around somewhere that I am not going to tag because I consider it a Different Era and not reflective of the work I'm doing now. Even though I'm STILL getting notes on a Wolverine smut fic I posted all the way back in 2018.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Foelu

SubObi Week Day Five

SubObi Week Day One

SubObi Week Day Four

SubObi Week Day Six

(Foelu is leading by A Margin in basically everything but hits now, it's insane)

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! And I'm usually pretty good at it. Sometimes I'm really not sure what to say and sometimes I get kind of overwhelmed so not always, but I do try. I'm super behind on Foelu atm bc you all continue to just blow me away with the support on that one, but I promise I'm planning to sit down and try to get caught up soon.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angsty endings aren't super my thing, to be honest. Most of the things I've actually finished have happy endings, just because that's my personal preference. Most of my angst is in the middle, and I'd say probably the angstiest fic I have (at least right now) is Traveling Song. Ari has...been through it. It used to be a whole lot worse before the first rewrite happened though.

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

Idk, maybe the Obi-Wan Omegaverse series I did for SubObi Week?

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, here's to hoping that doesn't change anytime soon.

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

Oh, yes. All sorts of it 😈😈

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Crossovers have never super been my thing, so no, not really.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that know of, again, hoping it stays that way.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, I think, but I have had one or two podfic'ed!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'm listed as a co-author on @pyromanicdaydreamer 's The Moments In Between since I helped with so much of the development for it (what can I say, I'm an ideas guy if I'm anything), but I've never really co-written anything, as far as the actual words and stuff.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

I'm mentally ill about Codywan in a way I've never really been before or since, to be honest. They're my special little guys. Also, though, Octavious and Jedidiah from Night At The Museum, Obviously.

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh, so many.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I think the most consistent feedback I've gotten is that my character work and humor are good, which does just make me feel real nice because characterization is something I worry about.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I am a total slave to the muse, my WIP graveyard is sprawling. I do think I could stand to be a little more descriptive at times, and I'm never going to claim that an English teacher wouldn't cry at some of my grammar. I'm a lot more concerned with how things sound than if they're technically correct.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's one of those things that's dependent on the characters, but when appropriate I do think it can add more depth. It also just makes sense for some characters--for example, you can be on either side of the clones-being-Mandalorian debate, but picking up another language from the trainers that the Kaminoans and likely their future generals don't know could only be in their best interest strategically.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel I think. Pyro and I wrote a bunch of OC stuff in the 2012 era, and I think one of my very first ones was a Thor x OC that might even still be on ff.net.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

Oh fuck. Uh. C'mon, man, this is like asking me to choose a favorite child. Shit. Um. I don't know if it's my favorite, but They Told Me I Couldn't Bag A Jedi was a lot of fucking fun to work on.

I think I'm gonna tag @ferretrade @goddammitjim @shootingstarpilot @bluemaskedkarma @brigittttoo

[24kaiden]

An Angel Indeed

AlternateGabriel x Reader

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“Once drowned in the depths of darkness, you lose sight of light When that light has dispersed there is no return"

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Chapter 1 (Is out on my Ao3)

Prologue

“An Angel defected with the eyes of a demon how pathetic” They spoke as there light shined ever so brightly.

I could only kneel before them as they seemed to ponder on what to do with me I could only wonder.

“Disgusting you must cover yourself” they finally spoke my vision soon blinded as I felt cloth upon my eyes.

I continued to kneel as my god continued to insult me their creation once so perfect in their eyes now I kneel like the worthless being I am to be.

yet upon their insults, they said something to me that struck me.

“Disgusting as she but An Angel Indeed”

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Idk how many chapters this will be or how long each will take but just know ill have them out as soon as possible.

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[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Hippocratic Oath

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ahBwKIt by h0nkycat He’d been hiding right under everyone’s noses, meandering about his life. Going to his unassuming KTMJ job and coming home at night to snap blackmail pictures and piece together contraptions that were meant for nothing more than to torture and kill. How he’d orchestrated it all so perfectly, and yet seemed to have started all of this on a whim. One glance at a Renewal ledger was all it took to get the gears in his brain turning. It only took three and a half months of seclusion and planning to turn someone who appears normal into this. ---- Set during the week after the flood. Neither Bruce Wayne nor Edward Nashton have much to do besides think about one another, what could've gone differently... Why, in a way, both of them failed at what they were trying to accomplish. What it means now for Gotham City in the wake of a new mayor and a newfound distrust in the system for many witnesses. Words: 2811, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Batman (Movie 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Bella Reál, Selina Kyle (mentioned), The Penguin (mentioned), idk maybe he'll show up, Jim Gordon, eventually - Character, also Dory, sweet ol Dory, Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma Relationships: Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Edward Nygma is Called Edward Nashton, POV Alternating, Angst, Angst and Feels, I love and respect Bella Real okay, Bella haters to the back, Trauma, of every kind, Political Unrest, gotham is a shithole, ACAB except Jim Gordon, mental illness innit, Arkham Asylum, Homoeroticism, EVENTUALLY!!! TRUST ME, Canon Continuation, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, except not really, mentions of Thomas and Martha, obviously, Character Study, I definitely forgot some tags for characters that might be mentioned/referenced later on, whatever, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Edward Nygma Has Issues, I have issues, You have issues, no beta we die like falcone read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ahBwKIt

[howareyanowwayne]

Letterkenny Crack

This is a Mermaid AU you have been warned. pre-Wayne/Darry. 

If you asked most of the good people in Letterkenny, they’d tell you that Wayne was without a doubt the toughest guy in town. A really good guy, just all around stand up; he kept to himself, but never avoided a polite chit-chat with neighbors or ag hall members. Ran his farm with ease and always put out a good crop, fought with honor and defended his own- that was all most people really cared to know about him. 

He’d never really had a sweetie(except for Angie) and that goss would circulate every few years when someone decided to try their luck asking him to dance at the jamboree or sum’such. It never stuck, and people would find something else to talk about until another party came around and others would give it the old college try. 

The best thing about Wayne, in most the town’s minds anyway, wasn’t just the good fights he put on or his honest-to-god good ole’ boy way of going about things- it was the lake that bordered the north side of his property. Like his Dyad had when they were kids, every summer Wayne opened the back driveway from noon to 4 or 5 and let people drive up in their trucks for a few hours of swimming. Most of the lake sat on the state-owned wildlife preserve that curled around the north and east sides of the farm, but they had a solid 3rd of it that was great for swimming and fishing, as long as people stayed respectful.

Wayne himself spent a good deal of time out by the lake, thinking or drinking. Always in the morning when there was no one about. Katy worried about him sometimes, especially after Angie’s cheated on him; when he’d disappeared and they’d found him, two days later passed out on the shore of the lake completely soaked through. 

But Wayne was never one for many words, content to spend a good deal of time alone or with his dogs, and she understood. He had his own demons, and she trusted him to come to her when he really needed help.

But this isn’t a story about Wayne being alone, or not liking people that much(because as polite as he was, he really didn’t like most folks all that much), this is the story of how Wayne and Derry met.

One morning, long before chorin’ needed to be done, Wayne bolted upright in his bed. Whatever dream had woken him was already fading from his mind, leaving behind only a vague sense of wonder and alarm. He sat quietly trying to remember for a moment, but soon enough drew a blank. Rolling out of bed, he looked out his back window towards the lake, out of sight on the other side of the field. Wayne had a strange feeling, as he dragged on jeans and a button up, that something was happening.

Without realizing it he’d rushed out of the house, pulling a dart from his pack and lighting it, beelining for the lake with long rolling strides. 

As he got closer to the edge of the property he could see little flashes of green light from over the hill- getting brighter as he cleared the corn field and making his alarm grow. Wayne hadn’t brought a flashlight, and now he was glad he hadn’t announced his presence- if there were skids partying on his property after dark, he’d send them running with their tails tucked between their legs. 

He ran the last few feet up to the crest of the hill and stopped cold. Blinked a few hundred times, because what he saw didn't make any kind of sense.

There, sliding leisurely through the water on the bank of the lake was fucking mermaid. He couldn’t think of another word for it that was for gd sure- clearly the upper body of a man, no legs, just fish from the hips down. Wayne scrubbed at his eyes hard, blinking the water out and letting his peepers adjust. It was still there after, tail pushing water lazily, upper body reclined on the shore. Glowing, for god's sakes, biolights flashing a soft green and blue and lighting the water like some kind of scene from a fairy tail. 

He didn’t even register his legs taking him closer until suddenly he was only a few feet away, and big, glowing green eyes flickered up to him. 

Wide, luminous, and wet as a dewdrop, Wayne watched two sets of translucent eyelids flutter in shock before yellow pupils shrunk into slits of alarm. Even as everything in him screamed at him to flee he was stuck, making intense eye contact with this strangely-human looking fish. 

Two things happened in an instant. The Mermaid’s face split like a snake’s, mouth too wide and full of sharp teeth. Messy wet curls flew about his head as he flipped, hissing and backing away from the farmer faster than a deer in headlights. 

Wayne stumbled back from the bank and slipped as loose sand and clay gave way, landing him right in the water with a splash. The hissing, barking sound continued as the hick threw his arms over his head and clenched his eyes shut. Lights flashed under his eyelids and his ears rang.

After a few long moments of heart pounding panic, the farmer stopped hearing hissing and a warm weight moved behind him. He opened his eyes to find the mermaid only a few inches from him. Wayne wasn’t the best at reading people, but he’d say it looked curious- mad as a snake, teeth barred and body tense, but there was a confused tilt to its head, eyes wide and searching. 

“Hw’re ye n’w?”

And if that bomb didn’t take him out just a little. Wayne was sitting chest deep in freezing lake water, at four in the morning, tangled up with the canadian creature of the black lagoon and it was fucking speaking to him. He raised his head to meet those glowing green eyes again, took a deep shivering breath and said.

“Oh not so bad.” Lies. He was very overwhelmed right now. 

Now that Wayne had a chance to see it up close, it was hard not to stare. Other than it’s eyes, which had no whites and shined like emerald fuckin’ gemstones, the top half of it looked just like a scrawny, less hairy dude maybe a little younger than Wayne- wiry and muscular, smaller by a bit, with a mop of curly wet hair that hung around it’s face and stuck to it’s neck. Freckles and a scale or two decorated it’s body, everywhere that could be seen, pale skin making the seamless transition to a fully green-scaled tail somewhere around the hip bones. There were little fins that Wayne thought might be for steering, on his elbows, wrists and sides; they were laying flat against his body now. 

“S’rry.” It wheezed, and Wayne couldn’t help but wince; that was certainly not a voice meant for english, that’s for sure. But the fish continued anyway. “M’ Derry.”

“I’m Wayne.” It was only polite to introduce yourself. “I know.” Unless you were introducing yourself to a creepy mermaid, apparently. Wayne gave Darry an utterly unamused look and said- “Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkard, bud.” 

When those words left Wayne’s mouth Darry lit up, literally, the entire rainbow and then some bathing the water around them in a halo. Darry pressed up against Wayne’s chest, hands sliding lightly up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

“A’right, bud. No awkward.” 

Wayne almost choked when, as the words left the merman’s mouth, his head dipped down, teeth and lips grazing sensitive skin through fabric. He heard Darry take a deep inhale, chest rumbling like a cat. 

“Take about 30% off ‘er there, Derry.” Wayne lifted his hand slowly to pat the merman’s arm and earned himself a toothy smile. Felt slimy as the bottom of the lake, for sure, but his hand wasn’t bit off and his new pal(?) didn’t even flinch, so he counted that as a win. Darry was a freaky lake monster, but Wayne could tell already that the guy was softer than 12-ply toilet paper. Even if he had a mouth full of lethal chompers. 

“Now I’m gonna freeze if I stay in here any longer, so you better let me up.” Darry whined, all the anxiety and tension returning to him in an instant. His clawed hands tightened on Wayne’s shoulders.

“Wayne, don’ tell. Please.” Those huge eyes pinned Wayne with a pleading stare. “ ‘m a secret. No tell ‘nyone.”

Wayne rubbed Darry’s arm again, thinking it might calm him down some. “O’ course not. It’ll be our secret.” He paused, looking out over the water and then back to Darry. You didn’t meet a mermaid every day, that was for GD sure- and technically, Darry was his neighbor. It was always polite to maintain good relationships with your neighbors. “And if you like, I’ll come back and visit ya. That’s my house right over there.” He pointed. 

That got Darry smiling again. Wayne heaved himself to his feet, dripping wet. The merman pulled away as he stood, eyes following the line of Wayne’s form as he straightened and peeled off his soaking flannel with a shiver. Playful hands tugged at his ankles, but didn’t drag him back down. 

“Alright. See ya, Dar.” And with that Wayne tore his eyes away from his new friend, trudged up the bank toward the field and the house beyond it. He felt eyes stay steady on his back until he’d crested the hill.

[milktrician-hell]

oh heres a snippet of y0 majima and y4 saejima meeting under the cut. idk if ill ever finish/continue it? if i do ill probably post it on ao3 or something

Saejima squints at sunlight that’s awoken him, and it takes him a bit before the smell of the city hits. It’s then his stomach drops, because he’s not supposed to be here—how did he get here? Did someone knock him out while he was leaving Purgatory?

He grips his hand on the nearby wall to get himself off the ground, patting his pockets making sure he wasn’t robbed while he was sleeping in this alley he’s landed in. Nothing seemed to be stolen, and he’s glad to still have the money Kiryu-san had given him. He peeks out the alley, slightly relaxing at the fact that there’s no cops in sight. But it only makes him wonder how he was dragged here in the first place, given that it’s a long way from the depths of West Park to whatever alley he’s landed in. Another question in the pile he’s desperate to get answered.

In his brief investigation however, he wonders how he’s managed to miss the body in the other corner of the alley. Slowly approaching the man he’s glad to see he’s still breathing, despite the old bruises on the man’s cheek. The guy’s got some fancy steel toed shoes and a nice suit, not to mention the long hair tied into a ponytail revealing an eye patch still strapped to his face. It’s an odd ensemble, yet something about him feels familiar. He just can’t put his finger on it.

It only takes a small shake for the man to shoot awake, eye darting all over the alley before landing on him.

“Hey, are ya alright?” Saejima asks, and it worries him a little the amount of alarm that’s all over the man’s face right now, “Found ya lyin’ here next to me, er—”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Majima says, standing up and backing away from him. A hand reaching into his suit jacket and slowly drawing a knife, “This ain’t real—you’re not real.”

Saejima can only stare, trying to make sense of the three versions of his sworn brother in his head. The one he remembers never showing up, the next described living in luxury by Hamazaki...and the third. The one that’s staring at him like he’s a ghost.

“...The fuck happen to you, bro?” is all he can think of saying, disregarding any idea to how he thought this would go,

“Th-This is a dream.” Majima mumbles out underneath his breath, holding the knife defensively in front of him, “That shady drug test must be makin’ me hallucinate now or somethin’. ”

It’s like he’s not even there.

But it doesn’t stop him from reaching out, because what Majima’s saying is true. This could all just be a dream, or what Hamazaki told him was all a lie. Or maybe he’s just delirious enough to see some sort of version of his sworn brother. And Majima’s single eye darts to where Saejima’s hand is near his own shoulder. Before he knows it, Saejima is dodging out of the way of a blade.

For the next few seconds all he can do is strafe out of the way, occasionally being nicked by the extended reach of Majima’s knife. It’s almost like being knocked back several decades to the times where they sparred with each other. Sensing a mix of the old style he falls in sync with and the new tricks up Majima’s sleeve that trip him up. He’s almost too fast to read at points.

He’s backed up too far now, and with the opening of the alley coming up behind him. The thought of a cop coming and arresting them both springs him into the offensive.

Saejima waits for Majima to pull back from another attack to strike, silently hoping he’ll see his wind up and dodge in time. But it hits right in the gut. And for the split second as his other fist connects with Majima’s jaw, he considers the blind spot in his brother’s left eye.

“Is that real enough for you?” he demands

[adventuresloane]

Chicken Soup for the Undead Soul

Summary: "'Alright, I'm here to make chicken soup and accidentally scorch your petunias,' she said, 'and I've already...well, sorry about that.'"

This is...bonding? Kravitz thinks this is bonding. (Taako gets sick and Lup and Kravitz cook for him idk what else you need to know.)

Rating: T (for safety)

Relationships: Kravitz & Lup, Kravitz/Taako

((Yes it’s another of my ask meme fics I polished up and put on AO3 u gotta deal))

Read on AO3

As was her wont, Lup called, "Anyone home," didn't wait for a response, and then phased into the house through the two inches of wood. Kravitz stopped, then set the lamp he was holding back into the box of baby blue packing peanuts. He waited for the smell of burning living room curtain to reach his nose. Luckily, it didn't, this time.

She floated in the foyer and looked around in a confident, surveying manner, skeletal hands on her hypothetical hips, as though he weren't standing right in front of her. "Alright, I'm here to make chicken soup and accidentally scorch your petunias," she said, "and I've already...well, sorry about that."

Those had been purchased and planted hardly four days prior, but Kravitz didn't remark on that. "Lup. You don't know how glad I am you're here."

She gave a congenial little shrug, causing the flames that rose from her shoulders to shiver upwards before falling again. "Well, hope I didn't keep you waiting. How's Taako?" The question came out quickly. It was particularly relevant today, but it was also one of the first things she asked every time she came in. "That doofus had better be sleeping."

"He's trying upstairs, I think. Not that I would get my hopes up."

"'Trying?'"

"Yes." Kravitz waited. The black, featureless face inside her red hood stayed fixed on him, and she did not carry on the conversation as he'd hoped she would. It seemed that she wanted more from him. "Well...well, I think it's hard for him. He hasn't slept once in the time that I've known him, or in the past decade at all, as far as he's told me. I'm sure he's out of practice if all he does is Trance."

"Oh! Right, right," she said. There was a beat, and then it passed. In the same tone that she'd had when she'd first floated in, she continued, "Well, whatever. He's lucky he's capable of lying in a bed at all."

"Ha, yes," Kravitz said, right before he said nothing. For a few moments that felt too long and vaguely sweaty to him, he stared at Lup, and presumably she stared back, in spite of the fact that he couldn't tell where her eyes were. Her spectral form bobbed slightly up and down in the air, and flames with dark red centers licked off the char-black bones of her hands, and suddenly he was rather glad she always knocked rather than, say, floating up through the floor unannounced when she felt like it. And now the silence was decidedly awkward. He pushed aside one of several unopened cardboard boxes with his foot. "Um, it's his own fault, really. Taako's been spending all his time trying to unpack and organize the house at the same time he's getting things organized to start his school. It's no wonder he's fallen ill--"

"Language." He turned to face her when she piped up. "Just say 'got sick.' No one says 'fall ill' anymore."

He couldn't quite hold back his grimace.

"Hey, you were the one who asked me to correct you when you talked like an old geezer."

This was true. It was also true, he was sure, that she enjoyed chastising him for a change, when normally he was the one telling her what to do during reaper training. He moved on. "Anyway, like I said, I'm glad I have you here to help now."

"Everything going alright so far."

"Yes. Well, I think so. I pre-salted the chicken, like you said. It's been waiting for five hours."

"That'll do. We can start on the broth. So how about the seasonings I told you to get? Did you pick up the rosemary?"

"Yes."

"And the parsley?"

"Two teaspoons of dried."

"And the oregano?"

He screeched to a stop, balked. There was no way. He had double- and triple-checked the list she had given him. He couldn't have missed anything. Could he have missed anything? He didn't know anything about cooking, but Taako always said something about the balance of flavors, and what if he'd just pulled a playing card out from the middle of the tower--

She laughed. "I'm fucking with you. Lighten up, dude." She attempted to pat him on the shoulder as she floated past him into the kitchen. Her hand passed right through him a couple times, but eventually she hard enough to make contact. Sometimes she spent a lot of time trying to touch corporeal things. Maybe that was how she'd burned the flowers. "Anyway, who's gonna use oregano when you've already got a buttload of rosemary in there? Come on."

But that was what he was here for today, to be her hands. According to her, there was precious little room for error when making this soup if they wanted to do it The Right Way, no leeway for her to accidentally drop in too much celery or pepper. There was precious little room for error, Kravitz reminded himself as he followed her instructions to strip the chicken meat from the bones.

"I bought a few different kinds of noodles, since I wasn't sure what was best," he said. "There's those twisty egg noodles, thin pasta, the flat ones--"

"Flat," Lup answered rather like a patient schoolteacher, "and don't break them up when you put them in the soup. He'll slurp them up one-by-one when no one's watching, but he'll never admit that."

"Right." He wanted to say, I knew that. He didn't exactly know, not from experience, and yet it was the kind of thing he'd expected from Taako. He felt like he didn't have to be told.

"That comes later, though," she said. "The noodles cook separately, and it doesn't take long."

"Oh. Alright."

"We used to make the noodles from scratch back on the ship and save them for rainy days, but store-bought's gonna have to do. Hey, do you have a pepper mill?"

"A what?"

"You know, for grinding up fresh-cracked pepper. Taako likes a lot of it."

Kravitz thought. "I think Taako does, but it might be in storage." He clumsily tried to get his nails under the papery skin of a garlic bulb, trying to peel it off. "Did he tell you he likes it fresh-ground better?"

Lup cocked her head a little. "I don't think he told me, per se. He just...well, he always used to like it that way, at least."

He nodded, stiffly. Then he continued nodding through a litany of other questions and corrections from her, about keeping the skin on the onions when he puts them in and how often he'll need to skim the fat from the top of the broth and how to extract the flavor from the bones and how much anise to add. There was a temptation to remark that he could, in fact, operate a stove. But he would say this for her: for someone who came across as so impulsive sometimes, she was surprisingly fastidious when it came to cooking. She knew everything about this dish. About what Taako liked about it. Given that he didn't feel hunger and as such hadn't done much in the way of cooking for hundreds of years, he had little choice but to listen to her. Although it would be nice if she could stop instructing him long enough for him to try to absorb what he was doing, so that he could remember all these details himself, for the next time Taako got sick.

He was so busy trying to keep up with her that he barely registered it when she abruptly switched to praise. "You're not half-bad, Skele-friend."

"Huh?" he responded, all dignity. "Oh, well, I'm just doing what you tell me. Or trying to."

"Yeah, well, you're doing a good job of it. Especially since you haven't taken orders from anyone less than a goddess for, what, a few centuries?"

"And you haven't made this recipe in quite some time. It's incredible how well you remember it."

She paused. "Taako's the one who always used to make it, actually," she murmured. "I'd be the helper. Unless I was the one who was sick. Then he'd do it himself. I feel like it's about time I returned the favor."

Kravitz couldn't keep from grinning at the thought. "I had a feeling he'd be a caring older brother."

"He's not my older brother. We're twins."

"Who's older, though?"

"Neither, we were born at the same time!"

"So you're the younger one."

She attempted to give him a playful shove. "Of course you'd take his side," she said in an exaggerated grumble. "I suppose you've had siblings?"

"Yes," he said quietly. He returned to stirring and said nothing else. Mercifully, she got the hint. After a moment, she materialized a white wand of sharpened bone into her hand (one of Barry's ulnas that he'd gifted to her, she'd told Kravitz once, which...said something about their relationship, alright). He watched her point it into the broth.

His side-eye must have been more obvious than he'd suspected, because she huffed when she caught sight of him staring. For someone whose face was little more than a black void with an ember-like glow of red at the center, she could give quite the eye-roll. "Relax, Mr. Death Cop. It's healing magic." She stopped for a moment, apparently to judge whether she could push her luck. "Though, you know, necromancy is hardly different from the stuff clerics do every day."

"I'm no great arcanist, Lup. I just take down cultists. And you know that whether or not clerics do it doesn't matter to the Raven Queen. Whether it's Vampiric Touch or Revivify, it's still a corruption of fate."

"Alright, spare me the speech, please. I'm just saying," she said with another shrug. "I am an arcanist, and I can tell you that it's the same kind of magical energy to heal or hurt, just flowing in different directions."

There had been an eon when he had felt that as opposed to simply knowing it, back before he'd had a scythe or a home in the Astral Plane. When he could ease his mother's headaches with a song.

"Shit," she shouted out of nowhere, and simultaneously, blue flames from the gas burners shot up suddenly. Kravitz scrambled for the heat dials. "Shit, wait, I just remembered something."

"What is it? Did we forget something?"

"Doesn't everything he eat taste like Gogurt now?" Her voice began to pitch up a little, grow strained. "What if he can't even taste the soup?"

"It's okay, Lup," he responded before she could go on. "I've asked him about that. He said soup doesn't count for the curse. He'll be able to taste it."

"Oh." She sounded as though she'd let out a sigh of relief, though she lacked lungs. "Okay, I just wasn't sure. Magnus had to tell me that, you know. I wouldn't have even known Taako was cursed otherwise."

Kravitz glanced her way. "Does that bother you?"

"It's not like he has to tell me," she said quickly. Then she hesitated, which, as far as he had learned, was not characteristic. She could be patient, but not hesitant, not unassured. "It's just weird that I...don't already know, I guess. I've just--you'll want a chef's knife for that."

"Which one is--?"

"Curved blade. And it's easier if you don't move the knife back and forth. Just pass the carrot under the blade while you chop." She sighed. "Anyway, I just missed things. A lot."

Kravitz bit his lip. "Well...you still know him like no one else. You realize that, don't you? I feel like I'm playing catch-up with all the rest of you. You all had a hundred years to figure him out. And you in particular had quite a few more."

"You're not doing too bad on that front already, bud." He could have sworn he saw a smile peek out from under the hood. He didn't recall her ever calling him "bud" before. "Not from what Taako's told me, anyway."

He stopped stirring the wooden spoon through the golden fluid for awhile. "I guess it's good you'll be moving in with us before too long, huh? We can bring each other up to speed."

"Listen, this shit's gonna be done before long. Why don't you take it up to him yourself?"

Kravitz looked her way. "You sure? It's your soup. You don't want to come up with me?"

"I'll see him plenty later. I'm sure I will."

Minutes later, he was knocking on the door of Taako's bedroom--their shared bedroom, now, with a new king-sized bed and mattress. There were a few instances of throat-clearing before Kravitz heard a croak of "Come in."

He pushed through the door, steaming bowl in both hands. "Hey, darling, have you slept at all?"

"Can't sleep at the best of times, babe." Taako followed up the answer with a snort. "This cold's some bullshit."

He chuckled. "I told you you'd get sick if you kept working like you've been."

"Can it, Bone-Hands McGee." He sat up and struggled to sniff some air through his stuffed nose. "Hey, is that--?"

"Lup helped." He lifted his shoulders in a way that he hoped would come across as self-effacing, as if the soup in his hands didn't smell like absolute heaven.

"That so?" He wiped his nose with a tissue, though not before Kravitz saw the blush creep into his warm cheeks. He saw that blush a lot, and always just at the moment that the two of them met eyes. Each time was a gift, whether Taako meant to give it to him or not. "Let's give it a whirl then."

Kravitz sat next to him on the bed and watched the whole while as Taako held the bowl under his nose, let the steam waft up into his sinuses, tipped his head back to show his smooth neck and closed his eyes and drank the broth slowly. Then he licked his lips abruptly and said, "Not bad for someone who considers fancy wine to be an entire meal. Hey, get out of my bed of contagion. You're the one who's gonna get sick next."

He chuckled and ran a hand through Taako's already pillow-ruffled hair. "That's the nice thing about being dead already, sweetheart. I can't get sick." To prove the point, he kissed his cheek.

He kept doing it, in fact, as he and Taako sat together and as the soup was slowly consumed. He hummed softly, then sang more so. And a few times, when he touched his lips to his boyfriend's skin, he tried to dredge up the kind of magic that he hadn't hadn't used for centuries, for the majority of his life. Not since he'd been alive. It felt far different from the kind he used to electrocute or grapple a necromantic cultist, and at first it felt like trying to run water through a pipe that hadn't seen a drop in decades. But he felt the warmth of the magic like he felt the vibration of his vocal chords, energy coming from deep inside of him, from nothing. Taako seemed to breathe more easily as the Healing Word took effect.

It was after the bowl had been sitting empty for awhile that Kravitz felt Taako's breathing slow next to him and take on the rhythm not of meditation, but of sleep.

[riceccakes]

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter Two Analysis

chapter one analysis

welcome back to another installment !! idk if many people are reading this, but i enjoy analyzing my writing so i’m gonna keep doing it :) let’s get started, shall we?

some fun stuff before we start!

the first scene i wrote for this story was the dock scene

usually, when i write, i kind of just start with whatever is the first thing that comes to mind. i’d had the bulk of the story outline in my head, not written yet, but i knew i wanted this reveal about the red lotus attack. so i started with it and wrote as far as i could before deciding i should start the beginning of the fic. most of the original content is there, with some stuff added on, but i took a turn from my dialogue as it didn’t fit the narrative of the story anymore (well get to this point in a later chapter analysis, don’t worry)

not me being heavily inspired by LOVE WITCH by bisexualyoda

around the time that i started this fic and was really writing for it, i found this story on ao3 and literally read whatever chapters were out at that time in a day. it was a story that also influenced me to write in asami’s pov, as a majority of the story is from hers. (this isn’t the only reason tho, but bisexualyoda is a writing god and what else could i do but try to honor them?) it’s a stellar korrasami fic that you should read if you haven’t yet and if you haven’t yet, what are you doing, please go enjoy that masterpiece

and into the chapter we shall go:

i kinda thought it was cool to play off this idea of a barista who can’t sleep but it’s not because of the coffee like you’d expect. 

now, being a diehard korrasami fan, i knew i wanted to apply this to my girls. and, i knew from the get-go i wanted korrasami to meet as if it were more book four, where korra has gone through something really terrible and asami is a really good friend who’s there for her. so i thought it might be cool to put the two together and korra is a barista who can’t sleep. then it was getting to what exactly the trauma was that korra experienced. i didn’t want anything as severe as what korra went through in the series (our poor girl was wrongfully put through the wringer for four seasons) but i wanted something that would stick with her and still haunt her, even after a period of time. my favorite book is book three and i loved the red lotus antagonists, so i played around with their concept and turned it into what’s in the story. i was really pleased when i came up with this and only made some minor changes (i had originally explicitly given korra insomnia. i decided to change this and keep it more ambiguous because i didn’t want to inaccurately describe insomnia and somehow offend anyone who does experience it, i hate doing that) and then i was set to really start the fic.

more about povs:

so, when i first started writing this fic, the idea of multiple povs was an option. in the end, i chose only asami, for a number of reasons, but mostly for one in particular

just like asami, i wanted you guys to gradually learn about korra’s situation. sure, i could’ve went through korra’s pov and been all secret secret about it, but something about that idea doesn’t sit well with me. i liked the idea of gradual connection and in turn concern. i sprinkled some little stuff here and there, to hint that something’s up, but i feel like that’s the hook for you lil fishies to grasp onto. even in that very dock scene, i don’t give it to you right away; i dance around it, just like korra does by talking about tenzin and the temple and i mention the water and korra’s jacket and anything but the reason why korra’s called asami at 2 in the morning to come see her. this kind of tension, this kind of urgency to know what’s going on, i just don’t think would’ve been achieved had i had alternating povs.

something i really love about this chapter is how the first section and third section ends

Makeshift Boardrooms ends with korra being a complete angel and going above and beyond for asami and this presentation:

Asami is speechless. Inside, the tables and chairs have been set up as if it’s a long boardroom, fit with the donuts in the center of the table no one can ever reach. At the far end, a projector screen is set up and a loading screen is displayed on it. Asami stares at the girl, unsure of how to convey how appreciative she is for the gesture.

“Korra…”

“I know,” she quickly speaks up, her fingers behind her back fidgeting even faster, “it’s a lot, but I thought you should get the best kind of practice! And, we hosted a movie night here a while back, I wasn’t sure if Tenzin left all the equipment here but I found it all in one of the cabinets in his office and I,” she’s looking at the ground now, “is it all right?”

“All right?” Asami questions, truly confused as to how Korra could say such a thing. She reaches out, slowly, gently, placing her hand on Korra. The girl’s hands fall to her sides, Asami’s fingertips slowly linger down from the bundled fabric of Korra’s rolled up sleeve to her forearm.

now, A Turn of Events ends like how we know:

Asami falls back onto the couch, ill prepared for the unexpected burst. Korra continues huffing, gasping for air, clutching at her chest and running a hand through her hair. Asami reaches out again and that’s when Korra flinches again. She starts to sob.

“Korra…”

“Get out!”

Asami sits, staring. She isn’t sure if she heard right or not. Korra begins shaking, sobbing inconsolably. Asami just wants to reach out.

“Get. Out!”

Asami grabs her things and rushes towards the door, taking one final glance behind her shoulder. Korra’s hands cover her face, her body flinches and shakes, her sobs ring loudly in Asami’s ears. 

In between each desperate gasp for air, she can hear Korra whisper, “Please, please, stop, stop, please, stop, please.”

Asami feels her heart sink and she opens the door to leave.

i’ve bolded what i love most. it was actually unintentional, i’d only noticed after i finished the chapter and was reading through to edit, but it’s kind of beautiful, bittersweet even. there are parallels here, some less noticeable than others, but parallels nonetheless. the lingering of korra’s name is direct and the events after are strikingly different but in a way connected. in Makeshift Boardrooms, after the mention of her name, korra is sputtering word after word. in A Turn of Events, after the mention of her name, korra only says two words. it’s two sides of the same coin, showing how korra is unfortunately spiraling out and losing control of what’s going on with her. typing it out is kind of hurting me, seeing how korra’s in pain, but im the author and i know what happens later so i shouldn’t worry too much.

now getting onto asami in this section, still, the lingering of korra’s name is the most noticeable parallel. but, in Makeshift Boardroom, after korra responds, asami reassures the girl with physical touch, she’s able to reach out to her. in A Turn of Events, after korra responds, asami doesn’t react, she doesn’t know how to. korra’s in front of her, clearly in pain, and she just yelled at asami, and still asami just wants to reach out to her. once again, unintentional that this happened, but sometimes it’s the unexpected things that turn out for the best. the diction i have here, in repeating the word reach, i think it just further drives home how heartbreaking this chapter’s turned out to be. (shout out to the section title, cause things really did take a turn here) it had all seemed so good, korra was opening up to asami, they were getting closer, and then all of a sudden BAM korra has a panic attack and in a moment of utter fear, she pushes away asami. i know i put angst in the ao3 tags, but now going over it as the author, i see my angst has really gone above and beyond, but hey, i really liked how this chapter turned out

honorable mentions:

in LOVE WITCH, asami and kuvira are basically besties and i loved the idea of their friendship and i wanted to have a go at it myself! finding kuvira’s place in the story, however, was a lil tough to navigate, but when i came up with the bodyguard idea, i really liked it. i hope you guys do too :))

idk if you guys noticed but outside formal fic/writing settings, i pretty much only type in lowercase. however, i do type in complete sentences and the only abbreviation i really use is idk so don’t mind me lowkey projecting onto korra here. anyways, i know most phones have the default setting for texts to be first word already uppercase. i have mine turned off but figured korra would have hers on cause 1) she prefers it this way and 2) even if she wanted to turn it off, she doesn’t know how to. plus, i liked the idea of her enjoying emoticons better than emojis. i love emojis but i always do a lil sideways smiley ( :) ) and to me it’s super cute and i’m sure korra would see it the same way

the end of this chapter is not what i had first intended! truth be told, i didn’t know what exactly was going to happen at the end of the chapter, but i knew what would happen after it, i just needed a bridge. in my og timeline, i had a couple different options: the one i almost went through with was asami suggesting they move into together (which is admittedly super soon and super fast so like, it would scare off korra), another was something intimate that would still scare korra off (this one wasn’t too elaborated on, perhaps a forehead touch, or super close faces, idk. obviously this doesn’t happen, but it had been in consideration), i’d actually even considered something physical, but that was quickly cut off the list, as that is NOT how i wanted this story to go. anyways, because of how this chapter ended, the whole rest of the story changed and i couldn’t be happier.

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

im still super self conscious about the length but at the same time, also not, idk how to describe it. anyways, i think what i actually would’ve liked is keeping something from the Home Life section i took out. when i first wrote it, asami actually had a desk mate and he was flamboyant and sassy and i loved him. looking back now, i would’ve loved to have kept him and the scene with him, but i took it out cause i was scared the chapter was too long. after reading everyone’s comments though, about how they don’t care how long chapters are/longer chapters are better, i gave myself some more slack with the last chapters. his name was ryuichi, rip ryuichi

surprise epilogue is out now too, so enjoy the rest of the fic! if you have any questions, feel free to ask :)))

[redyarns]

i was tagged by @omgchyeahplease

name: jas/red

fandoms: shit dude how do i even start??? but i guess the most recent ones are demon slayer and genshin impact. i am somehow swept up in the land of chili and zentan, its a real problem considering how little sleep i get just to scour for content to gobble down. i used to be a part of the cursed vld days but we dont talk about that

where you post: ao3. i used to main on fanfiction but i transitioned over to ao3 once i realized how much better it was. you can still find my account on fanfiction along with some *very* old fics that i havent gotten rid of due to sentimental reasons. please dont read them

most popular one-shot: uhhhh probably acoustics? if im going by number of kudos. im honestly a little sad beyond the shoreline isnt my most popular one considering its probably my most well written piece yet

most popular multichap: e__e its unfortunately rainfall. i regret a lot of things about that fic

fic you were nervous to post: any of my nsfw ones, ive never written stuff like it before and i think its really clear im an amateur. but they were fun to write and it seems people enjoy them so ill continue practicing

how you choose your titles: idk??? it depends on the mood of the story. if its something slow and prose-y i usually make the title all lowercase and something pretty sounding, though typically i try to make all my fics sound pretty. the title always has something to do with the fic and one of its key concepts

do you outline: depends on what fic it is and how long i think itll be. fics that are very plot-driven like windy days or rosewater require me to outline pretty comprehensively, while things like the avatar zentan au is just me writing a bunch of short drabbles with no need to outline. the estimation doesnt always work (as is the case with beyond the shoreline, which was thought to be around 5k and instead turned into 30k with no outline) and sometimes outlining turns me off from a fic entirely due to how draining outlining is for me. but outlining is essential in multichapter fics, which i didnt realize until recently. you can see this when you compare old fics to new ones, and the quality shifted dramatically just because i started actually outlining

do you take prompts: only if i like them lmfao i write as a hobby and i wont do it if i dont think the idea is engaging

complete: ummm lemme count... 16 fics? not counting any old ones, just the ones available on my ao3

in progress: you mean aside from all the other fics i have to finish on my profile? i have a few in mind... i have this one zentan au i think is really cute (like 7k done and not even halfway) as well as this amazing chili fic where it features zhongli being a major dumbass and complete himbo as an old god in modern age with childe having to look after him. i have a few others but itll take ages to list them out lol

[cockasinthebird]

hi hi hi first of all vicigfigdigx thank you so much for all the nice tags you leave on my art and stuff, i love it so much i scream, SECOND OF ALL, mayhaps? ill do more? lemony art? idk yet, this one didnt get a huge response? but who knows! and i dont plan on writing anything related to that but FULLY ENDORSE anyone who wants 😉 -thinger-strang

First of all thank you for continuing to draw and create!!!!

And I absolutely think you should draw more lemons if that's a thing you're comfortable with 👀👀👀

About the response and all, I've talked with some other creators, and lately it just seems that... Interaction has gone down??? My artists friends tell me that they're absolutely getting less notes, so am I on my writing, and less views in general on all fics on AO3, despite getting more followers and subscribers????

There's been a definite dive the last week or so, and it has fallen into something of a lull, so maybe Harringrove is dying?

Tbf there's a lot of shit going on in the world, so maybe everyone is simply too stressed and busy

But I hope it won't affect your interest in continuing to create art, especially more of what you've just offered up 😌💕

[essekknits]

idk if the prompt things still open but... dragon peter nureyev? or more ben lives au bc that was so good

Okay, listen. You can’t just drop such a perfect prompt on me and expect me not to write the absolute shit out of it.

I love it so much this became a full fledged multi-chapter story I am planning to continue.

And here’s the link to it on AO3, if you want to follow!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684750/chapters/54219535

***

He didn’t know what he expected when he heard the clunking of metal, but a young knight in a beat up armour collapsed at his door wasn’t it.

Usually the knights that came to face him were older men, muscular and loud and full of brash courage and pompous self importance. This one wasn’t any of that. He was young and short, his armour and skin smeared with blood. He was also very, very unconscious.

What can one do when faced with a man like that besides helping him? He was intrigued, after all, and if there’s one thing dragons aren’t very good at it’s leaving the things they want.

You see, there are some misconceptions about dragons and their dwellings that people don’t seem to be able to get out of their heads.

First, dragons aren’t some mindless beasts. They aren’t the brutal, thoughtless disasters they were painted as in human culture. They were clever. Smart and quick and cultured. They had their own traditions, their music, their cultures. They were scholars, learned in magic and history and fighting. From a very young age they could shift their forms to more resemble those of humans, until they were able to hide among them.

Second, dragons didn’t live in musty stone caves filled with piles of gold like most would imagine. In fact, most dragons would be insulted at such thought. Dragon dens were the epitome of luxury, carved rooms in the inner caves covered with carpeted, decorated walls, bookcases, trinkets and knickknacks tastefully organised all around, with the brunt of the treasure in rooms properly made for that purpose. Dragons did love gold, but they also enjoyed beauty and comfort, and their dens reflected that.

The young dragon who was named Nureyev (or Peter, as his adoptive father used to call him before his death) picked up the young human in one clawed paw, clutching him close to his chest as he limped into the den. He charmed into existence a bed, human sized, complete with plush pillows and a soft, warm blanket. He lay the battered human in the bed, shifting into a more human form. He then grabbed some clean cotton and a bowl of water, and began cleaning his wounds, humming as he worked.

~~~

Juno didn’t expect to wake up feeling this warm. In fact, he didn’t expect to wake up at all. He hoped for a painless death, and instead got life and a dull ache where he should’ve felt the sharp bite of the steel that cut his skin and flesh. He kept his eyes shut, trying to get a feel for where he was. He fell unconscious at the mouth of a cave, and now… he could hear roaring flame, and soft steps, and the rustling of fabric.

“Good morning, sir knight. I hope you are feeling well.” A voice called, soft and deep and melodic. It was a voice Juno wouldn’t have minded waking up to every day, and wouldn’t have minded dying to either. The stranger already knew he was awake, so what did he have to lose?

He opened his eyes, and was stunned.

On a first glance, the man in front of him looked fairly normal, if extremely beautiful. He was tall and slim, with high cheekbones and dark hair. His clothes were a deep red fabric, heavy and rich and velvety, and he wore golden jewelry adorned with precious gemstones, mainly rubies and garnets.

But on a second glance, you started noticing that things weren’t as they seemed.

His eyes had an alarming colour, like molten gold, shining even over his extravagant jewels. His skin looked slightly more golden than was natural, like it perpetually captured the glow of the sunset. But it was his teeth that gave him away. Just a bit too sharp to be human, he had a smile that made him seem like he was happy to see him, and like he would be just as happy to kill him.

Luckily for Juno, this was not his first time meeting a dragon. Growing up, one of his best friends was a dragon, living in hiding among humans after their whole tribe was destroyed. But Sasha was very different from this man. She was cold, quiet and serious, with black hair and black eyes and small obsidian jewelry she could easily hide. In her dragon form, Sasha was still small and black, her dark scales shimmering in the light and her sleek form built for speed, like she was born to pierce the sky.

“What’s that, sir knight, lost your tongue?” The man chuckled, gracefully sitting on the bed besides Juno. Because it was a bed he was on, and he was covered with a soft blanket. This was… more comfort than he ever had, more or less. His wounds also seemed to have been bandaged, and he was stripped of his armour and left in his underclothes, a loose linen shirt and a knee length braie. He would be embarrassed if not for the immediate threat that was the dragon in front of him, expecting an answer.

“Uhhh, no. You didn’t get that lucky.” He retaliated quickly, earning a delighted chuckle from the dragon. “Thank to you. For your help.” Juno pulled himself up, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I was simply curious about the mysterious stranger who passed out at my door. May I know your name, now?” The dragon raised an eyebrow, and Juno barely hesitated to answer. He wasn’t a good enough liar to trick a dragon. Not to mention that he didn’t even really want to lie. Again, he didn’t have anything to lose.

“Juno. Juno Steel.” He answered, and the dragon chuckled.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful knight. My own, I’m afraid, isn’t quite so unique. Rex Glass, it’s a pleasure.” He licked his lips, eyeing Juno in a way that wasn’t all unpleasant. “But where are my manners, I forgot to even offer you water!” He laughed, charming a mug of water in front of Juno’s stare, offering it to him.

“Neat trick.” Juno took the mug, suspicious. He hesitated to drink.

“Oh please, I didn’t poison you, Juno. I took you in when you were unconscious, didn’t I? Dressed your wounds, looked after you… if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up.” Glass rolled his eyes.

“Not why I was hesitating.” Honestly, Juno wouldn’t have minded. “Just wondering if this is a transmutation or a summoning. Or something else entirely. Every person has a different way of getting the same thing done, and transmutated water tastes like dirt.” He put the mug to his mouth, drinking it all in one swig. He was really thirsty.

“Oh? A knight who dabbles in magic? This is something I haven’t seen yet.” Glass tilted his head, and Juno shook his head.

“Not much of a magician myself. Not much of a knight too, if we’re talking about it already. But thanks for the water. Definitely not transmuted.” He gave him a half smile, thinking of the people who he first learned of magic from. His thoughts briefly went to Sasha and her instinctive, meticulous magic, but they soon turned away from her, to his twin brother. Benzaiten’s magic was art, just like his dancing. Juno’s smile faded from his face, before he caught himself, shaking his head and returning his eyes to Rex. “So, how did you do it?” He asked, genuinely interested even if he was a bit distracted.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I just… willed it into existence?” The dragon’s teeth showed again in his smile. He was clearly dramatic, and loved a good story.

“Yeah, actually. I’ve seen magic do weirder things.” Juno shrugged, his voice distant, and the dragon frowned.

“Are you feeling well, Juno? You do seem a bit ill.” His head was tilted again, and his voice seemed genuinely concerned.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Really. Just… injuries, you know? Got hit over the head, that kind of stuff leaves you all spinning sometimes.” Juno ran his fingers through his hair, careful or the area where a bandage covered it.

“I see. How about you go shower? There is a spring not far from here, and when you return I can check on those injuries.” Juno nodded, agreeing to be lead to the spring. Rex left a change of clothes with him, made of simple and comfortable cotton.

Juno couldn’t understand the situation. What does this dragon want? What could he possibly want? He took Juno in when he was injured, dressed his wounds, welcomed him in his den (because that was a dragon’s den if Juno has ever seen one. Which he hasn’t, but he heard the stories Sasha and her parents told). But dragons didn’t do things for no reason. What reason could this dragon, a being powerful enough to just will things into existence, and whose magic pulsed through the whole cave system, vibrating through Juno’s body with every breath, have for trying to help him?

The springs were naturally hot, located in a cave with high ceilings. The stone itself had veins of gold in it, and the light he carried with him shone on it, reflecting back and forth. If this was a human settlement, they would’ve ripped this mountain for its gold already. But this was a dragon’s den, and dragons had value for gold even when it was still in the vein, solely for its beauty and magical qualities. As Juno showered, he could feel his exhaustion peeling off with the grime and blood, magically disappearing. While this particular spring was quite small, Juno could hear larger ones in the depths. Maybe large enough for the dragon to soak in in his true form.

The dragon walked into the cave again once Juno was in his underclothes, this time not as overly dressed as he was before. He wore a white cotton shirt that seemed fitted for his measurements, and dark red pants the same colour as his previous attire. He knelt near Juno, summoning bandaged and some sort of ointment.

“Why are you doing this?” Juno asked quietly, not looking at the man who was currently bandaging his wounds. He tried to tell him he can do it himself, but Glass wouldn’t budge.

“Well, why not? You’re injured and tired, Juno. It would be irresponsible of me as a host to let you go untreated.” His voice was quiet and professional. “Now sit still and let me finish. Then we can go eat.” Juno let him do as he wished, then got fully dressed and followed him back to where they came from.

The food was all on a low table, surrounded by large cushions. Juno wasn’t used to so much food in the same place. This kind of plenty, in general, wasn’t something he was familiar with. But still, he sat at the table besides Rex, they ate, and the conversation flowed. Rex was… charming. His eyes were hypnotising, and he had a certain scent to him, like spices from a far off land, that’s Juno couldn’t quite put his finger on but couldn’t get enough of. Juno thought… he might be okay with it. With being here, with this dragon.

~~~

“So, would you tell me what brought you here, Juno? I am curious.” Nureyev asked, lounging on a pillow and comfortably leaning toward Juno.

“Let’s just say the knights don’t particularly like me.” He sighed tiredly. “I hit the head knight in the face. Tried to expose his corruption, but even though I brought evidence, nobody cared. So they kicked me and started threatening to kill me if I don’t shut my mouth.” He shrugged, like he didn’t care, but his eyes said otherwise.

“That sounds cruel, Juno, I’m sorry for this.” He put a hand on the knight’s, gently tracing his bruised knuckles with his thumb. Everything about this human was fascinating. Usually he didn’t care for humans much. They were there to be exploited or ignored or fought. Nothing more. Nothing like… like this knight, open and hurting and quick witted and with so much sadness in him.

“Well, it is what it is.” He shrugged again, adamantly avoiding Nureyev’s gaze in a way that was almost amusing, and Nureyev took as a challenge.

“So, what will you do now?” He asked, tilting his head at Juno as he put a grape in his mouth, letting it burst between his teeth.

“I… I don’t know. Probably run somewhere else. It’s pretty clear that if I stay around, they’ll kill me. The only reason I survived was because I know the catacombs well, and no one else would go in them.” Juno’s eyes were cast aside, ashamed and tired.

“Well… life can wait one night, can’t it? Come here, Juno.” Nureyev smiled softly at the knight, eyes hooded and posture inviting. He didn’t even need to charm him magically, but Juno looked… almost compelled. He closed the distance between them, and Nureyev pulled him in for a kiss.

This human knight tasted of mead and honey and blood, and fit so easily in his arms that it just felt right. Like it was meant to be, and Juno Steel was always supposed to end right there, in his arms. Like it was only a matter of time, and they would do the same thing in every universe out there.

“Don’t you get tired of pretending?” Juno murmured against his lips as they pulled away, and Peter looked into his deep brown eyes that seemed so warm and so sad.

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head to the side, curious. There was no way he could know. Nureyev was very good at disguising himself, at appearing like a rich, slightly eccentric human. There is no way a knight in his early 20’s would uncover his disguise.

“Pretending to be human.” Juno pulled away just a little further, pinning him with his gaze. He didn’t look like he was running away, though, and that was unusual. “Cut the games, Rex. You’re not the first dragon I met.” His voice was dull and distant, like he wasn’t all there. It wasn’t a knight bragging about the amount of dragons he killed. It was just… acknowledgement. He didn’t look like he was going to attack.

“That… does seem familiar, yes. I must admit, you are not reacting with as much… violence, as I’ve come to expect from a knight.” He confessed, not making any move toward or away from Juno. This was it, either the knight runs, or attacks him, or… well, Nureyev didn’t want to entertain the last option too much, not wanting to be burned by false hopes. 

“Why would I react with violence? Hell, you’re the first person I met in days that didn’t want me dead.” Juno sounded a bit sad about that, but only faintly.

“Isn’t this what knights do?… slay the beast?” Nureyev asked carefully. His own parents were killed by knights, or… or so Mag told him. Then again, everything else the man told him was a lie, so why would this be any different? He was still bitter and hurting.

“Even if they do, I don’t care about that. I don’t do this. One of my childhood best friends was a dragon. She lived in hiding in the city. I don’t… I don’t fear dragons more than I should.” Juno’s eyes were cast down, and Nureyev didn’t know whether he wanted to ask him for further clarification or just fight him. Luckily for him, asking for more clarification appeared to be a sure way to start a fight. 

“And how much should you fear dragons, sir knight?” He asked, head tilted and tongue as sharp as his teeth. He sounded dangerous, and that’s exactly what he was going for. Slowly, he let more and more inhuman features grow on him. His teeth sharpened even more, the pupils of his eyes turned into vertical slits, and deep golden scales surrounded his eyes and dusted his cheeks. Horns started growing back from his head.

“A lot, but not enough that I’ll attack someone who was kind to me and never tried to hurt me.” Juno’s voice cooled down considerably too. Up until now, he was still using that soft, vulnerable tone, deep and golden and warm. Now his voice was rough, jagged steel. defensive like a wounded animal licking its wounds, lashing out at anyone who would come too close, whether friend or foe. Nureyev almost regretted riling him up like that, He was beautiful like this, but there was pain in the way he carried himself now, sitting up stiffly instead of leaning comfortably on the pillows.

“You are welcome to stay or leave as you please, Juno. I will not hold you captive.” Nureyev eventually said, met with only a small nod from this human knight. He knew the human would leave, deciding to leave a note for him to find in his bags.

While we didn’t separate on the best of terms, my offer to you still stands.

I do hope to see you again, Juno Steel.

signed, yours truly,

Peter Nureyev

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 1/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: When Lord Maurice is unable to pay the King’s taxes, his debts begin to pile up, and the only recourse is to accept an arranged marriage for his daughter, the Lady Belle. After a failed betrothal to Sir Gaston, broken by the reveal of a personal secret of Belle’s, the enigmatic and powerful Lord Gold swoops in to solve all their problems. He will marry Lady Belle and pay off Maurice’s debts. The only catch is that Gold doesn’t seem to want a wife at all.

Notes: YES I KNOW I NEED ANOTHER WIP LIKE I NEED SEVENTEEN MORE HOLES IN MY HEAD I’M FUCKING HORRIBLE. So this is an idea I had literally years ago. This is a weird quasi-period romance fantasy. Like imagine Jane Austen but in the Enchanted Forest. IDK. I’m tagging some things I know are coming, and just going right ahead and putting the rating where it’s going to be so that everyone is informed up front. I’m sorry I’m like this. For the Writer’s Month prompt #26: wedding.

[AO3]

Belle winced and pulled the comb through the ends of her hair.

She worked out the last few tangles before twisting it into a thick braid that ran from the base of her skull to the small of her back. Tomorrow it would fall in fat, loose curls, perfect for being woven with some of the delicate white flowers that grew along the south side of the house. Angel’s Lace they were called, supposedly good luck for a bride to wear on her wedding day. Her dress hung on a form by her armoire, creamy white silk and light blue ribbons, ready for her to don in the morning.

She sighed and pushed away from the vanity, casting a longing look at her bed. This would be her last night in it, and her last night in her father’s home, the only one she’d ever known, forever. She wandered to the window and leaned out into the cool evening air. The sky was a swirl of purple and pink as the sun sank behind the treeline. The next time she saw the sunset, it would have a different view, and she would belong to someone else.

The thought made her stomach turn and she moved to the small table across the room to pour some water. After two gulps of cool water and a few deep breaths, she felt only marginally better. The last thing she wanted was to be married, but the state of her father’s affairs necessitated such extremes.

Belle had often dreamed of what her future might be like, her wedding and her husband. She pictured something like in her books or in the stories told by her old governess. Reality was nothing like that. In her fantasies she had a choice, she wasn’t bid out like cattle to pay debts that weren’t her family’s fault.

King George taxed his lord’s highly. Years of war had worn the people down, and as her father’s lands began to fail, the fields sallow from overuse, there just wasn’t enough to cover the King’s demands. Only a marriage to a wealthy lord could save them. Her father’s debts would become her debts, and her debts her new husband’s.

Lord Gold, she was told, could easily afford them. He was also a favorite of the King, sitting on the Council of Lord’s and helping to organize and run the kingdom. She hoped this would go better than the first time.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of her first betrothal. Sir Gaston was noble, but demanding, conventionally handsome, but ugly on the inside. He’d found out her secret and immediately broke off the engagement. It was just as well, a marriage to such a man would have been more of a punishment than losing everything her family owned.

Strangely, upon hearing of the disillusion of her betrothal, Lord Gold had sent a letter to her father, asking for her hand. They had never met, but of course her father agreed. He was only worried for himself and their family name, and the possibility of losing their standing. The fate of his daughter was secondary.

Belle startled at the knock on her door, and hurried to cover her nightgown with her robe.

“Enter,” she called out, still tying the belt around her waist.

The maid, Astrid, poked her head around the door and smiled. “Sorry to disturb, my Lady.”

Belle shook her head and waved the woman in. “It’s no matter, Astrid.”

“I - I brought you a letter,” she said, holding out a silver tray containing a folded parchment, sealed with red wax. “It’s - it’s from Lord Gold, my Lady.”

Belle’s eyes went wide and pulled back the hand that had been reaching for the letter. “Oh…”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Should I put it on the desk, my Lady?”

Belle nodded, and watched with trepidation as Astrid cross to the small writing desk by the window and set the tray down. A moment later, Astrid was giving her a curtsy from the doorway and bidding her a goodnight.

She stared at the tray and the paper for a long moment before tracing the wax seal pressed to the front. The symbol in the middle was odd, a spinning wheel surrounded on the outside by the usual laurel wreath of the merchant lords. She wondered what the significance of it was.

Sitting down at the desk, she took a steadying breath and broke the seal, brushing the bits of wax aside as she opened the folded paper. It wasn’t uncommon for those with longer betrothals to write each other letters, but she hardly expected a man she’d never met and who was at least ten years her senior, to be sending her affectionate missives the next before their very arranged wedding.

Lady Belle,

I will dispatch with the usual, odious pleasantries of hoping this letter finds you well, and asking after your father’s health, though I do hope you are not too distressed over the upcoming ceremony. I know that this arrangement is not what you might have desired -

She let out a light snort at his understatement, and continued.

- but I wish to alleviate some of your fears, that we may enter into our partnership without misunderstandings.

Partnership. The word made her frown. She had never known anyone to refer to a marriage as such. Arrangement, agreement, joining. Those were common among those who had their futures decided on the basis of beneficial political or social alignments, but partnership seemed like something more, like they were forming a business or some such. She thought perhaps he was more used to that word given his background as a merchant.

Beyond the covenant we will enter into in the eyes of church and family, I will make a promise to you that I shall never ask for more than you are willing to give, in all things.

Belle sat back in her chair, her lips parting as she read the line again. She hoped that it meant what she wanted it to, but she was very aware that men, especially Lords and knights, where capable of eschewing all honor to get what they wanted.

Allow me to be clear, in a manner which I pray you do not find offensive. I will make no demands upon you for your time, your companionship, or your presence in my bed. I have no need for more friends, though I hope, in time, we may come to appreciate each other’s company, and you may approve of spending time together. I also require no heirs, as I already have been blessed with a son from my marriage to my late wife. (Incidentally, his name is Baeden - Bae - and he will be eleven just before the solstice.)

She gasped out loud, and her heart began to pound in her chest. She read the paragraph again, as she had the sentence before it, in utter disbelief. Lord Gold was marrying her, and apparently had no intention of requiring her to do any of the things that everyone expected wives to do. And he’d been married before. That was not something her father had mentioned, nor that Gold had a son. The way he added the sliver of knowledge, both about the boy’s name and his birthday, felt oddly intimate, like he was allowing her a peek into his life ahead of her joining it.

Giving her head a shake, she continued reading to the end.

I’m sure you are curious as to my reasons for agreeing to this arrangement, and in time I may be willing to explain, but please trust that they are my own, and that I do not bear you, your father, or your family any ill will. I will make one small request of you, if I may, and that is simply to be yourself. I find there are enough airs put on at court, and I do not wish there to be any illusions or deceptions in my home.

Yours,

Cameron Gold

She let out the breath she’d been holding and her hands dropped to her lap. The letter was nothing she’d expected, but then, apparently, neither was Lord Gold.

Cameron.

Knowing her future husband’s first name made her smile. She hadn’t known anything about him before today, other than that he was older, and rich enough to afford her father’s debts. Now she felt like they had spent an afternoon together, talking over tea. It was strange, yet comforting.

Though he might change his mind in the future, for now it seemed her terrible secret would remain as such. It was possible than if it were revealed to him that they might have come to understand each other enough that he wouldn’t be as angry as Gaston had been.

A shudder washed over her and she reached for her shawl, pulling it tight around her shoulders. Then she folded the letter and placed inside her favorite book, right in the middle to keep it pressed flat by the heavy sides. She poured herself another cup of water and carried it to her bedside table before laying her robe and shawl over the end of the bed. She took her time smoothing her hands over the soft knitting, remembering how her mother used to sit by the fire in the evenings with a basket of yarn and an idle plan of what she might create.

Her chest tightened and she pushed the memory away as she climbed onto the mattress, kicking off her slippers before wiggling beneath the covers. She looked over at her wedding gown, relieved that her earlier terror had calmed to more of a light apprehension. Perhaps, she thought, an arranged marriage to a man who didn’t seem to want a wife at all, was the best she could have hoped for.

[mitcheemarns]

1, 10, 20, 30, 40 and 50 for the author ask meme!

1.  What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

i deleted my first fic on ao3, which is telling of how BAD it is and my opinion on it. i still have it in my google drive tho. just peeked at it and i want to throw up from how bad it is.

10.  Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

nope, because i know i wouldnt get the characterization right. ive also only written hockey rpf. (tho i might start writing for another fandom idk we’ll see)

20.  Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

hm, thats an interesting question. i think i might, and that would prob be everything is perfect about you, the sk au. i dont think id take the original down tho.

30.  Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?

haha, havent moved on from a fandom that i write for yet so. but i probably wont continue to write.

40.  Do you feel like you put out enough content?

well, sometimes i feel like i put out too much content and sometimes i feel like i put out too less. a lot of my “fics” on ao3 are 600-800 words, so idk. i feel like i want to create more of a following on tumblr lol.

50.  Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

writing fic definitely had a significant impact on my life, especially last year. but mainly it’s because the little things in life have changed now - a lot of things inspire me and make me want to write now. i also have more appreciation for english class now lol. bc when i do analysis, i can use it to improve my writing (as if ive actually tried). but it hasnt been ENTIRELY positive. ill leave it at that.

[fanfictionlive]

I’m really regretting posting my fic/story on ao3

Probably not the best title, but I’ve been feeling pretty foggy lately so please bear with me.

I’ve been talking about this in comments a lot, and figured I should post about it.

I’ve been writing a story for 3 years as of December 2017. It’s very loosely connected to an (unfortunately) unpopular fandom, otherwise it’s mainly original with lots of OCs. I don’t really want to specify the fandom because it’s so small on ao3 people will probably know which story it is that I am discussing.

So, I’ve been through a lot while writing this, including a Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and several deep depressive episodes. I’m pretty proud of myself for sticking with this one story for that long, and through nasty brain fog and whatnot.

Well, I got the courage after talking with my therapist and some friends to post it to ao3 in May. I was genuinely anxious about how it’d be received and have always been self conscious about it’s content. The funny thing is, there’s no smut or anything like that. Just kinda odd stuff that I was nervous about.

Well, I put up the first chapter and opted for a once weekly updates.

Enter “Mr. ConCrit.” They commented on the first chapter and said he liked it, suggested some things, and mentioned a work he was writing for the same fandom. This continued up through chapter 4, when they left a multi paragraph, thousand word concrit comment. It completely stopped me in my tracks. They pointed out so many flaws, and it made me feel rough. I stopped updating for a month.

Finally I started updating again without responding to the comment, and wrote a not explaining my struggles with MS and mental illness and how I was stressing about letting down readers and whatnot. Mr. ConCrit comments and leaves a supportive comment. Says don’t worry about letting readers down. So I continue on.

Again the concrit continues. And I’m feeling disheartened. All through it he keeps recommending their own work, and comparing mine to it was well as the canon content(idk what to anonymously call it but the the stuff but it’s the original content the fandom is based on I guess like Harry Potter for example). And finally, in a bad emotional state, I said screw it! I added a “chapter” that basically explained that I’d be deleting it soon (I wish there was just an option to make it private.) and explained that it’s just putting a ton of stress on me to the point that I’m crying in frustration.

I get a comment from Mr. ConCrit and it’s a 180. It’s full of empathy and understanding. Made me reconsider deleting it. So I replied and said I’ll upload all the chapters I have written and take a step back to rewrite some parts I don’t like. And I thanked them for the empathy and kind words. What a fool I am.

As I’m working my way through uploading I get the most damning comment yet. Another complete 180 from the empathy. Basically they were suggesting things for the rewrite by completely dissecting my story and picking apart every little detail and flaw as if I sent it to an editor. They called my characters ‘lifeless’, my plots and scenes ‘contrived’, ‘short’, and ‘meaningless’. And they repeatedly compared my story side by side with theirs, and side by side with the original canon content. They also said they were suggesting things for the rewrite, and were willing to help with rewriting it.

My god this stung. I was right about to upload one of the first major plot point chapters, and sit down with a box of Cheerios and milk. Completely killed my appetite and will to write. I honestly haven’t hardly written anything since I started this uploading. I’ve just been focusing on going back and improving stuff. Gee look what a difference that made sigh it’s like if it’s that fucking bad maybe they should just write it themselves.

You know maybe they’re ‘lifeless’ because I live much of my life in a fog and am dissociated a lot. Idk. But still. Just writing is a huge accomplishment for me. I’d celebrate when I got my whopping 2k word chapters done after a month’s work. They called those chapters ‘too short.’

It just has made me feel so small, and worthless. If they hated it so much, why even bother?! Why invest in something if you’re going to make the author feel like crap.

And sadly this is my first fanfiction writing on ao3, and it’s a bad experience. I have two other self insert stories I’m writing which are for rwby and sword art online, but I’m genuinely afraid to post them! Luckily those are bigger fandoms, and I’d be less likely to attract someone like this. I haven’t touched those stories since fall of 2017 and 2015 though.

I could post this story to FFN, but guess who’s writing in this fandom and has their work in there? Ding ding ding! Ugh!

I talked to a close friend about this and these comments. They said that Mr. ConCrit seemed like a bit of an ass, and basically expects another of the original series. That really holds true in my opinion. I think their intentions are good, but have really hurt me in the process.

There are scenes that I’ve spent hours on and they were never acknowledged. Just all the flaws. Now I’m sick of this story, and sick of the original series. It sucks that this is the only person commenting on it. Imagine how off putting it is to a reader to see all of those comments.

I’ve questioned if I’m being too sensitive about this but others have agreed on here that these comments are kinda crappy and out of line. This story is pretty personal to me and has served as an outlet for a while. I was just hoping someone else would like it too. I decided to leave it for a week before deleting it and that was on Tuesday. I have therapy tomorrow, and will make the final decision on if it stays or goes.

Anyway, I apologize if this is a scatterbrained mess. I’ve got a lot of external stress going on as well as this disaster so I’m having a hard time thinking clearly.

submitted by /u/ShyBeanKyonko [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/3fMSDKa