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ravencincaide · 9 months ago

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While I don’t block blogs as of right now (because I'm too busy to be playing monitor police. But maybe I should) I have to agree that it’s annoying, at times even discouraging to see like after like after like without comments, reblogs or any other engagement. Just spam liking everything in sight which can make me miss important things, like you know, comments and taggs which actually make a difference. Fact of the matter is, unfortunately, likes don’t do much besides being a personal bookmark of sorts on this platform. "But why do I have to do it? I can just read without engagement and then you'll get even less" Well first I won't get less because likes don't give traction to my blog. They don't get more people to see my stuff, to encourage me to keep writing, ball ideas with me and more importantly, they don't get people with similar mindsets to engage with me. You know; talk, chatt, send inboxes that aren't 'write this thing I want and DO IT NOW'. They also aren't an indication of my writing. Most of the time the fics with high hearts are the ones I like least. So, rather than be a reflection of my writing, they're just the things my current active fanbase ON THIS SITE prefer; before it was NSFW now its fluff, next who knows. Secondly; many creators on here, be it writers, artists or whatever you share, are doing it to build their name. Their trademark so to speak. To have a fanbase, to have those precious readers who read, comment and send suggestions to their writers (like good old fanfic community!) That you like a fic I have is of course amazing and appreciated but it's not really helping me become a better version of me. It's not really making writing all that fun either when it's reduced to a capitalistic 'provide provide provide for fast consumption' thingy. Me and a lot of creators are sharing content we spend hours on with you. For free. Instead of hiding it behind paywalls, or re-writing it into a "50 shades of grey" kinda thing or just.. not sharing. So please be a little appreciative and nice to writers and artists. If you want to keep us around that is. *Answer for Anon who made a comment about me not blocking blogs.

a friendly reminder 🙃

Some of you are new here, and I won't fault you for that. Some of you are learning or re-learning stuff here. That's okay.

but please for the love of fucking everything holy

PLEASE DONT BE THIS PERSON

Please don't spam like, thinking you're doing something. It does absolutely nothing to help us authors out.

It's also fucking annoying. Even more so when you look like a goddamned bot 😀

Spam liking without reblogging, looking like a bot, and/or having no age in your bio, IS AN AUTOMATIC BLOCK.

and this isn't just from me. You will be blocked by so many other authors as well.

please, if you aren't familiar with Tumblr or fandom etiquette, there are SO MANY posts about it. If you need any help navigating, I promise my DMs and ask box are ALWAYS open for questions. I've been there. I made mistakes too. But I learned. Y'all need to, too.

#writers #reblog stuff #honestly its for the best #make a second blog if you don't want stuff on your main #but goddamn support the artists #and writers #raven cincaide asks

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seiwas · 5 months ago

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Hey there! I saw your one-year anniversary collab and absolutely loved the idea! Although I'm quite a new reader of your stuff (and JJK fandom overall, although I've been writing for a long while for BSD on @ravencincaide in case you need a sample of my writing), could I join the collab with some lovely JJK characters? I would love to write either a SFW Megumi Fushiguro fic from this account, which is my main one. Or in a month or so (once it's properly set up) a NSFW fic from my NSFW account, @miss-cincaide, in which case I'd be more likely a Sukuna fic.

Since I think you have a better idea of how many collab requests you have and what you're looking for, I'm fine with either :) Also since I'm writing this 5 min before an exam I don't have any details set. But thought I'd reach out while I have fools bravery from coffee and adrenaline!

Once again huge thanks for reading this and sorry if I'm bothering Much Love ~Raven

hi raven! nice to meet you 🥺 i'm so happy you like my anniv collab!

of course you may join in!! i don't need samples nor do i check 🥹 my only requirements for joining my collab are: that you be 18 or above, that you stick with the theme, and that you express an interest to join 🥹

you are so sweet sending this in with fools bravery from coffee and adrenaline dfajsd i relate 🥹 i'll be adding in both in the masterlist, just so you have options when you decide to write 🥹 you can let me know eventually if you'll choose to write one over the other or both 🥹

join my one year anniversary collab here!

#raven-cincaide #ask #rep #sel's one year anniversary collab

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bloodycotton · 3 months ago

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Day seven, okey, this whole tober thing is way harder than i thought.

Prompts by: @raven-cincaide-words

(English is NOT my first language)

Day 7.- Soul Mates

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead, 2010) x Fem!reader

When night fell on the road and the sounds of the wandering dead were all you could hear, the most terrifying thing was that you couldn't see them. And sometimes, when you did manage to see them, it was too late, so the nights were the most difficult, the most uncomfortable and the most dangerous.

You slept as much as you could and where you could, trying to stay alert for any kind of threat, dead or alive. Every little sound put you on the defensive, the rustle of dry leaves, the small twigs breaking as animals passed overhead.

The higher above the ground you slept, the better you were able to fall asleep, even if your body complained about the discomfort, and you were sore, sleeping in the trees was the safest option you had in mind.

A month and a couple of weeks had passed since the dead populated the land, and only a couple of the living were left fighting for their lives. You included.

If finding your soul mate was difficult before, now it was impossible, but you had the consolation that this person was still alive for you, because soul mates had a special connection, a shared empathy, they felt each other's emotions. And you could feel everything he or she felt.

And you were worried, he was lonely, anxious, distressed, fatigued and couldn't sleep even for a second, something was wrong with him, and you were scared that you couldn't help him before something bad happened to him, that you couldn't get to your soul mate before death claimed him.

That's why you were trying so hard to survive, to stay calm, to at least give a little peace of mind to the other end of the loop, as another night fell on their heads.

What you didn't expect was to find a little girl running from a walker in the middle of the woods, almost across an internal Georgia road. You helped her, of course you helped her, she was no more than ten years old, and she looked exhausted and scared, more than scared she was terrified.

With precise movements you raised your weapon and took down the walkers, bringing them both to safety, setting off on a journey to the road where she had told you her mother would be waiting for her, but your heart broke when you saw no one, only the pile of abandoned cars.

Her little hand squeezed yours, you were sure she was distraught. "Do you have any idea where they were?" You asked her, maybe they had left some kind of directions they could follow or some clue as to where her mother might be.

"Just up ahead" I pointed to the little girl, Sophia, as she had said herself, her name was when you saved her from the walkers.

"Let's go and look for her then" You said trying to sound a bit more hopeful, but there was a knot in your stomach, you didn't want to be negative, but the chances that her mother could be alive were very low. But with a sigh, you decided that you wouldn't leave her alone for anything in the world.

You both walked into the tangle of cars, the sound of your soft footsteps contrasting with the thump of your heart pounding in your chest. Without meaning to, the anxiety and anguish was growing in you and Daryl could feel it, he could feel your emotions boiling over, and it scared him, you were always calm, in a state of serenity, he was the anxious one, the one who always put himself in dangerous situations. And those thoughts sent him into a spiral at one of the worst times, for he was supposed to be looking for the girl and some trace that she might be alive, but he was thinking about his soul mate and his growing anxiety while he was on a horse.

His hands tightened on the rein, and he tried to take slow, deep breaths. When the mare he was on saw a snake, making her jump and dropping him off the small cliff, he yelped in surprise as he was thrown from the saddle and fell to the rocky ground, landing with a groan and a cry of pain as his back hit a large rock and one of his own arrows burying itself in the side of his abdomen.

A wave of pain and anguish hit you, and you knew he was in danger, and despair washed over you.

The forest thickened as you moved through it, the trees closing in around you, obscuring the path even further. Sophia was still at your side, her small hand clutched tightly in yours. The fear on her face reminded you how fragile hope was in these times.

You both moved on, the silence of the forest was overwhelming, only interrupted by the rustling of the wind and the rustling of branches. Your mind whirled around your soul mate, growing more and more restless. It wasn't normal for him to feel this way. You knew there must be something else. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the connection you shared, that strange empathy that bound you together, as if your hearts beat in unison.

Suddenly, a muffled growl echoed through the trees. Instinctively, you stopped, causing Sophia to stand still beside you.

"What was that?" Sophia asked, her eyes growing wide with fear.

"I don't know," you said, trying to remain calm as you moved a little deeper into the thicket. Every step seemed like an echo, but there was something in the air that pulled you forward, like a tugging at your insides.

Your heart was racing every moment, and then you felt it. A surge of pain and anguish came from your soul mate, a silent scream that echoed in your chest. Without thinking, you began to run, leading Sophia behind you.

You couldn't stop. Anxiety flooded through you, pulling you forward, like a magnet you couldn't ignore.

Finally, you came to a kind of clearing, where the light illuminated a small stream. There, on the ground, with pale skin and an arrow through his side, was a man, and you knew immediately that this man was your soul mate. His face was covered in sweat and a grimace of pain plagued him, as his eyes closed and opened, as if he was struggling to stay conscious.

"Daryl," Sophia murmured behind you, quickly approaching the man lying in the water, Daryl was his name, and you knelt down beside him. The world around you faded away, all that mattered was him. "God... What do I do?" The pain was searing, and you still felt it, which was good, it meant he was still okay, or at least that's what you told yourself.

He looked at you, confusion and pain reflected in his gaze. "You...?" he murmured, his voice cracking. "Sophia...?" You felt a new surge, but now of reassurance, of relief, Daryl was relieved to see you, you and Sophia safe and sound.

He didn't know you fully, but he knew who you were, he felt it.

#(s)creaming #x reader #flufftober #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #the walking dead 2010 #flufftober 2024 #sweetober #x female reader

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nobedofroses · 3 months ago

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October 1st

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

warnings: suspense

words: 709

a/n: decided pretty last minute to do this, but here is day 1! I would not call this kinktober but I am planning to post everyday this october with a range of different types of prompts but starting with Strange Noise from this list by @raven-cincaide-words (it's on there as day 25, but since I'm using multiple lists, everything's out of order). Excited to get started, hope you enjoy! Directory

🎃🎃🎃

It started when you were asleep. The sound woke you slowly at first. You stirred out of a dream that involved a strange creature in the distance, moving and making a sound. A sound that sounded vaguely familiar but that you couldn’t place.

Then you woke and the sound was still there. It startled you. You weren’t used to unidentifiable sounds in the little structure that you, Din, and Grogu were living in. It was small enough that you were familiar with every single sight, feel, smell, and sound in it. But not this one.

Heart beating quicker, you reached out for Din in the dark. His strong arm was warm under your hand and you squeezed it a couple times, wanting him to wake quickly but quietly, just in case.

Din woke up quicker than you. He always did after years hunting and never letting his guard completely down. Normally, you were glad that he felt like he could with you and Grogu, able to even remove his armor for comfort like sleep. But now you wanted the hunter, the man that would protect you and Grogu from anything that could come your way.

“What is it?” Din asked, moving close so he didn’t have to speak above a whisper.

“Do you hear that?” you paused, letting him listen.

You couldn’t see his face in the dark, but you could picture his expression. Brows furrowed, eyes squinting in concentration, and the firm line of his mouth.

“It’s inside. Clearly it doesn’t know we’re here or it would be less loud. I’ll take care of it,” Din told you, shifting slowly to grab his helmet on the bedside table. Always there, security and safety in one gleaming piece of beskar.

In seconds, Din was walking through the doorway with helmet and gauntlets on. You were standing as well, planning to walk behind Din to Grogu’s room so you could ensure the little one’s safety. Behind Din so he could act as your shield. His words.

The two of you parted in the hallway and you rushed into Grogu’s room as Din rushed to the noise. As your eyes fell to the empty little bed, your heart fell out of your chest as you finally realized what the sound had been. Eating.

One second before you fell to your knees in despair, Din’s voice called out, “He’s in here!”

You were in the kitchen the very next second, ready to do anything to save Grogu. But a very different, much less devastating sight was before you than you expected.

Grogu was standing, completely unharmed, in front of the conservator and surrounded by half eaten and strewn-about food. He must have had a bite of everything you had in there. He was covered in something sticky and the crumbs that had stuck to that, but none of that mattered as you scooped him up into your arms and hugged him close.

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay,” you breathed, heart rate slowing down for the first time in several minutes.

“He’s covered in food. He ate everything,” Din countered, although his tone was more tired than frustrated.

“You must be going through a growth spurt, huh? Are you still hungry or should we clean you up and get back to bed?” you asked the little green child blinking up at you.

He made one of his cooing sounds and you knew it was a sleepy one. So you said, “Alright, a quick wash-up right after you move all this stuff to the waste bins. Din, I can take care of him if you want to go back to sleep.”

Grogu waved a hand over your shoulder, moving everything to the correct bin in seconds. Din watched the movement before responding, “No, I’ll do a security check then join you.”

You nodded with a small smile, knowing that even something harmless like this set off his protective instinct and let him do what would help him go back to sleep peacefully while you did what would help you. You turned your attention back to Grogu, “Let’s get you cleaned up. And while we do, we can talk about what you should do if you get hungry in the middle of the night again.”

🎃🎃🎃

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #fic #blurb #nobedofroses #din djarin x gn!reader #tagging these as #spooky fluff 24 #since last time it was spooky smut lol #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader

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by-speaker · 2 months ago

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Rituals (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words and Happy Halloween!

There were rituals that were purely Missa — lighting incense every morning, leaving offerings of fresh bread and water, murmuring blessings in Nahuatl while hanging fresh cempasúchil in the windows. Santa Muerte had its own traditions to uphold, after all.

There were rituals that were uniquely Philza's — boiling water three times for morning tea, hanging horseshoes over every new door, whispering ‘white rabbit’ on the first day of the month. The Angel of Death had his own customs to observe.

And then there were the rituals they had created together, as a family.

Every night, without fail, Missa would tuck Tallulah in while Philza read a story to Chayanne. Then they would exchange children — Philza would kiss Tallulah's forehead and tuck in her nightcap, while Missa would sing softly to Chayanne until his eyes closed. It was their nightly ritual, as sacred as any ceremony.

‘Why do they always have to do everything in that order?’ asked Chayanne once, half asleep.

‘Because that's the way it should be,’ Missa replied simply, running his bony fingers through his son's blond hair. ‘Like the sun rises every morning and the moon rises every night.’

Sundays had their own rituals. Philza refused to do laundry, of course, but he compensated by helping Missa clean the altars. It was a curious sight - Death and the Angel of Death, side by side, dusting off the offerings and swapping wilted flowers for fresh ones.

‘Isn't it a bit redundant that Death has an altar?’ asked Philza once, as she held up a fresh bouquet of cempasúchil.

Missa smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement beneath his mask. ‘Isn't it redundant that the Angel of Death fears bad luck?’

Tallulah had her own rituals as well. Every morning, without fail, she brushed her hair exactly one hundred times — she had counted it once and refused to do it any other way ever since. Then Missa or Philza (whoever was available) would braid her hair, always ending with a purple ribbon.

‘It has to be purple,’ she insisted in sign language. ‘It's the colour of royalty.’

‘Of course, princess,’ Philza replied each time, as Missa hid his smile behind his mask.

Chayanne, for his part, kept a secret ritual that not even his parents knew about. Every night, before going to sleep, he would take out his Technoblade stuffed animal and tell him about his day in whispers. He would tell her about his training, about Tallulah's antics, about the stories Missa brought back from her travels, about Philza's superstitions.

‘I know it's silly,’ he once confessed to his stuffed animal, ’but I like to think that somehow you can hear me.’

What Chayanne didn't know was that Missa, being who she was, could ensure that somewhere in the afterlife, Technoblade smiled every time he heard his little admirer's stories.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #speakerwriting #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp tallulah #qsmp chayanne #dsmp techno #technoblade

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saywhatjessie · 8 days ago

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I am so mixed up (that I cannot tell you)

Advent Calendar Day 13! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Christmas Cleaning | Enemies to Lovers | Kisses Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie 2k[Ao3]

“How the fuck did you get so much of your shit into my house without me noticing?”

“It ain’t your fault! Your eyesight’s gone all funny with age. You can’t be expected to see shit more than 3 inches from your face.”

Roy growled and Jamie winked back.

Roy had been volunteered by his sister to host his family for the holidays. It was fine: he had the biggest house and guest rooms that could hold his parents for the week of Hanukkah as well as Ruth and Phoebe if they wanted to stay over any of the nights. He was also the best cook and absolutely refused to make latkes in the Little Tikes playset Ruth called a kitchen. So he’d agreed, figuring he could get some plastic to protect his kitchen from oil splatters and just tidy up the living spaces for his family to gather.

He had not realized how much of the surface area in those living spaces was filled with Jamie’s shit.

“When did you even wear this?” Roy asked, holding up bright pin track pants, disgusted. “Why are they here?”

“Wore that when I pulled your bike!” Jamie told him, brightly. He snatched the trackies out of Roy’s hand and shoved them in a giant laundry bag he’d had in his car. “Have you not seen the fan photos? I look well fit. You look like a belland.”

Roy growled, kicking pairs of Jamie’s shoes away from the door.

He supposed that helped explain it. Many times after their early morning training sessions, Roy would let Jamie shower at his place before they headed in to Nelson Road. And also he would come over after training to eat before late night training.

But that still didn’t explain why Jamie had left things here.

“How many bum bags do you have?” Roy asked, incredulous, yanking about three out from between the couch cushions. ”Is there anything even in them? How do you just forget them here?”

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for this one!” Jamie said, excitedly relieving Roy of a bright silver thing. “Well flash, innit?”

“It’s ugly as shit,” Roy told him. “And still doesn’t explain why it’s here.”

Jamie snorted. “I lost this one over a month ago, mate. Maybe start asking yourself why you never clean your place.”

Roy growled again and Jamie rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs.

Roy rumbled quietly to himself. Little prick. Roy cleaned his fucking house.

He went into the kitchen to check the damage on that. He knew his kitchen was absolutely clean – he used it every day – he just wanted to make sure he moved any clutter off the counters so it didn’t catch any stray grease. Hanukkah was the oiliest holiday of the year: thank you Maccabees.

The kitchen was just how he left it. The stove was clean, the dishes were clean and put away, the floors were swept and at least surface cleaned. He had drawings Phoebe had done hung up on the fridge. Roy sighed in relief: this space, at least, was free of Jamie Tartt.

He started carefully removing the things from the fridge, knowing that those oil droplets could fly and not wanting to ruin any of Phoebe’s work. He took down a couple drawings, photos, Phoebe’s participation ribbon for children’s pole vaulting or whatever. He smiled at them, fondly, as he removed them and gently slid them into an envelope that he’d store safely away in his office until his kitchen could be deep cleaned.

Then he hit non-Phoebe stuff he’d forgotten he’d put up there. Training schedule. Dietary list. Match calendar. He couldn’t remember why he’d hung those up – it made sense for him to think about these things as a coach but why were they in his kitchen?

And then he saw the ‘Good Boy’ tracker with little golden stars on it and he remembered. Of course. Of course these were for FUCKING Jamie.

The Good Boy tracker was actually a work of genius: nothing made Jamie work harder than the promise of a gold star. He could run that extra kilometer, do a hundred more burpees, and make that fiftieth crossbar kick if Roy promised him a little gold star by the finish. He couldn’t help but smile seeing all the stars proudly stuck to it. It was a nice reminder of how far they’d come.

The calendar and schedule were old so Roy just threw those away. But the dietary list and gold stars went into the envelope. He couldn’t help being a good coach, now, could he?

He moved onto counters once the fridge was clear and was again relieved by the familiarity of it. Roy’s cookbooks got stored in his office with the envelope, his jar of utensils got put in a cabinet, jars of flour and sugar got put in the cabinet as well as the ENTIRE spice rack.

He hesitated over the salt and pepper shakers. They were little black greyhounds, bought for him for secret santa sometime in the last few years. He loved them so much, he couldn’t stand to put them away. He figured they would be easy enough to clean later.

Roy had just finished stowing everything away and gave the counter one last wipedown when Jamie came into the kitchen hauling his overstuffed laundry bag. He let out a low whistle.

“Fuck, it looks so empty in here.” He noted, frowning at the naked fridge. “What did Phoebe do to piss you off?”

Roy rolled his eyes, turning to wipe down the cabinets. He only wanted to have to get through one layer of grime when this was over. “Her stuff is safe in my office. You’ve never seen a kitchen during Hanukkah, everything gets fucking covered in grease.” He grunted, rubbing his socks against the tile and wondering if it would be worth it to do a deep clean beforehand. “I put away everything I didn’t want to see ruined.”

Jamie hummed in understanding but then scowled at the stove. “Well I guess fuck me, then. If you hated the little greyhounds, you didn’t have to use them.”

Roy frowned back, turning to look at the stove. Right, the salt and pepper shakers.

“Oh, no, I–”

“They weren’t easy to find, you know,” Jamie said, slouching against the wall and folding his arms, defensively. “Greyhounds ain’t exactly a friendly shape for salt and pepper. And no one makes things black you like it so it took a long fucking time to find something you could use in your kitchen that you would like and would remind you of your team. Like I spent ages on this shit so if you don’t like them, re-gift them to Higgins or something, I’m sure his wife would use them.”

And Roy remembers, oh fuck. Right. Jamie had been his secret santa that year. He’d loved the gift so much but had hated Jamie so he’d completely divorced the two from each other in his head. He’d forgotten completely.

He looked back at Jamie, his anger, and didn’t actually think he deserved it. “I do use them. You’ve seen me cook with them. I use them every fucking day.”

“Well how do I know you’re not just using them to make fun of me? You didn’t think they were worth saving or whatever.”

“How would using them be making fun of you?”

“I don’t know, maybe to remind me how unimportant they are? How pathetic it was for me to try so hard to get you a present?”

“Why would I even do that? I didn’t even remember they were from you!”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

Jamie’s head jerked back, his face going completely frozen even while Roy could hear a soft gasp being sucked in through his teeth.

Then, before Roy could react, Jamie’s teeth clicked together, his jaw tense, and he nodded. “Right. My mistake. Why would you remember?”

He heaved his laundry over his shoulder and nodded again. “Happy holidays, Roy.”

“Wait, no, fuck.” Roy scrambled around his kitchen island, his socks skidding a bit as he ran into Jamie gripping his arm. “I love those fucking salt shakers.”

Jamie snorted, turning enough so Roy could see him roll his eyes. “Right.”

“No, I do!” Roy said, desperation making his voice hoarse. “It makes me happy every time I look at them. I couldn’t bear putting them away. I told myself they would be worth cleaning by hand myself after the holidays.”

Jamie kept frowning, his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Roy growled, pulling Jamie back and shoving him in a chair at the kitchen island.

“I’m not fucking lying,” He grumbled. “I forgot you gave them to me because I loved them too much to think they came from you. I sublimated it.”

Now Jamie’s eyes were confused. “Like the Beatles? The yellow sublimate?”

“That’s submarine you goddamn numpty.” Roy sighed, leaning his weight on the island. “Sublimate. Like repress or some shit.”

Jamie made a soft noise of understanding but looked away from Roy.

Roy sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Fuck.” He said, banging his fist on the island. Jamie didn’t jump. “I should have known it was you, though.” Roy sighed. “After Uncle’s Day. Should have known you’d have gotten me another one of my favorite presents.”

“Yeah?” Jamie said, his eyes getting some of their lightness back. “More than those custom trainers from Beckham?”

Roy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his relieved smile. “More than the goddamn sunglasses from Elton Fucking John.”

Jamie gasped, the sound much more welcoming than the last one. “You’ve got sunglasses from Elton John? Why haven’t I seen them?”

“Because I don’t trust you with them, I already have to lock my trophy room when you come over to make sure you don’t masturbate into my old jerseys.”

Jamie choked, going bright red. Roy huffed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ve got no use for more trophies: things I lock in a room and never get to look at.” He pointed at the stove. “Those little shakers are with me every day. So thank you, Jamie. For the gift. I don’t know if I thanked you properly for them at the time.”

Jamie swallowed, still bright red and avoiding Roy’s eyes. “No, but you well hated me at the time so–” He shrugged, the laundry bag sliding off his shoulders and back onto the floor.

Roy grunted, putting a hand under Jamie’s chin and tilting it back.

Jamie’s eyes looked up at him, wide from shock. Whether from Roy’s earnestness or the fact Roy was touching him so softly, he couldn’t be sure.

And he couldn't think about it or he was going to lose his nerve.

He leaned forward and kissed Jamie softly on the mouth. Roy could hear the breath halt in Jamie’s body, the muscles in his back and neck tensing in surprise, but his mouth was loose, accepting Roy without protest and pressing back like it was as natural as blinking.

Roy pulled back just enough so he could say. “Thank you, Jamie. Really. You’re a good boy.”

Jamie squeaked, his eyes still wide and his body moving toward Roy like Jamie was fighting not to chase Roy’s lips.

Roy just smiled, leaning in to kiss him again once, very quickly, before pulling away completely.

“Why don’t I make us some supper?” Roy asked, turning back to his kitchen. “Reward for cleaning up before my parents get here.”

It took a look time and several unsuccessful attempts at speech before Jamie said. “You shouldn’t cook, you just cleaned the kitchen. Why don’t we get takeaway?”

Roy looked at him, nodding again in approval and delighting at Jamie nervously looking away. “Good, yeah.” He bit back a smile as Jamie squeaked again. “I could use a kebab.”

#Ted Lasso #RoyJamie #dumb fic #oops I wrote a thing #Jessie writes RoyJamie fic #Advent calendar 2024

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raven-cincaide-words · 5 months ago

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𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼

A prompt list for those who feel the need to refresh genres to get back into the hang of writing. Use the words within their genre-categories, take inspiration from the italics line and/or the questions below or play around all across like a writing bingo. The sky is your limit!

Some questions to ask yourself when working with one-word prompts (example with ‘disappointed’)

What does ‘disappointed’ mean? Can you define it in some other way?

How do you usually write it (is it angst?) and can it be the opposite?

Why is the character disappointed? What do they do about it?

How is it expressed/ How does the reader know the character is disappointed?

Why is it important/ Why should the reader care that the character is disappointed?

Can you twist ‘disappointed’ into something more complicated? What happens next?

And most important of all questions; Why?

All fics are unique works by © raven-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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ravencincaide · 12 days ago

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Hello there,

Just read one of your fics, student!reader and Chuuya, "Sssht-oh shit". I had a good laugh, it was very fun. It made me remember my university days. Lovely fic.

Is there a possibility for a part 2?

Hi there! Aww I'm so glad you liked it! Yeah there's nothing like studying at university and then having someone interrupt you. I started sketching the next part but I'm struggling with a few parts. But I'll be sure to tag you once I finally get it out! thank you for reading, asking and have a wonderful end of the year!

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raven-cincaide · 2 months ago

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i hope this doesn't sound rude but im pretty sure gege confirmed that uraume was a male in the heian era and got reincarnated in a womans body

Hey there

I hope I don't sound rude back but it's fanfiction, no need to take it so seriously (especially since the very premise of Sukuna taking in a child is pretty outrageous to begin with and besides to my knowledge the only Utaume we have seen was as a woman, even in the last scene) so I thought:

A) a woman was better suited in the context .

B) it's written from the perspective of a child who can be mistaken (if its any consultation for you).

If it bothers you, you're always welcome to just scroll by. I'm sure there are plenty if fics that are more cannon and follow whatever Gege said accurately :)

~Raven

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miss-cincaide · 4 months ago

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𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔

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ravencincaide · 8 months ago

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hi raven 🤍

he's plotting something

Oh me oh my he really is, must be something devious *grins* can’t wait to know what it is

Also @osachiyo thanks so much for reaching out to me, looking forward to chatting with you and good that you did since I just saw that tumblr unfollowed you but now I fixed it! *grin as apology, side eye glare at tumblr *

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ravencincaide · 9 months ago

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Hi Raven.

Do you think It's okay to give your own opinion about a story of a fanfiction, even if it isn't just compliments?

Like I wanted to suggest to a writer here on tumblr to fix a thing on their story, so that it could be more readable, but I don't want to come off as rude.

I mean, I know what constructive criticism is but... yeah. My question still stands

Hi anon! What a good question. Love these types of asks! The short answer is it depends on the writer, it depends on the story and it depends on your comment. Let me exemplify what I mean below. First, there's a huge difference between an established writer, who is semi active, engages with comments on their stories and encourages discussions and feedback, in contrast with writers who are just starting out. OR writers who are publishing without looking at comments because they are just happy to share without caring about feedback. OR writers who are getting back into it after years of NOT writing. They are aware that they aren't at their best but still fucking trying and with time will get better and figure it out. In the later cases a critique wouldn't achieve much, be a waste of both your times and could actually do more harm than good. Second it depends on the story; for example if the writer says 'warning lowercase writing' and you point out that it's written in lowercase then it kinda doesn't do much but cause frustration. Similarly if you point out on my writing that 'hey you have a lot of simple errors that you'd catch with a re-read or a beta' when I've clearly said that I don't do heavy editing at the moment because I'm working on combating perfectionism and focus on getting stuff out then once again said comment wouldn't really achieve much. There are so many more examples when a critique will just not achieve much- if anything. So please be mindful of that and attentive to what the writer says. Finally it depends on your comment, how you write it and why. Saying something like ' your character is sooo OC get a better read on X, Y, Z' is just rude and will disregard the writers interpretation of the characters, story and creative liberty. OR 'Your twist sucks/ you overuse it/ its predictable cuz of this- this and that' doesn't do much but put the writer down, makes them tempted to quit or block you. So the question becomes are you critiquing to help or to show your own frustration at the way they write their story? Critique is valuable to a writer; it helps us improve. It gives us things to consider and be aware off. It can also push us down a peg when we get too cocky. BUT this type of feedback should be written with care. If you give a writer critique on tumblr, keep in mind that they most likely produce this content for free, at their own time, for their own enjoyment and decide to share it with you out of the goodness of their own heart. Therefore the critique should be written with care and due diligence; write it in the way You yourself would want to receive it. Be kind, polite and humble. We're all human, we're all trying to do our best and to improve. Please remember that. After saying all that, l am honestly a person who often encourages feedback and gives feedback back, following the model of 'two stars and a wish'. So that it's not JUST negative but a combination of both. That way its easier to write it, often its better received and creates a better atmosphere all around. Best of luck <3

Hope this helps ~ Raven

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