#so many people leave wonderful tags on my post. i wish i could leave hearts on them :(

[medi-bee]

Fortune Amidst Misfortune. my stringbean. big into lizards, if you couldn’t tell. I gave him a major facelift when downpour came out, but ive had him for years lol

Fortune is a rude-ass introvert, and is totally engrossed in his genetic experiments. If asked, he’d tell you that he thinks the local wildlife are ugly beasts, but he’s secretly a huge softy for ‘em and everyone can tell. He would watch the lil babies grow up through the overseers and just be so proud.

Eventually just watching was no longer enough, so he gave his puppet a big revamp, as seen above. lizard-taur-terator? Except he only has minimal knowledge of robo-body building, so it kinda sucks. Lots of little errors that start adding up, which means lots of maintenance, so that big socket in the back is for plugging himself back in occasionally (and it also functions as a weak spot :) ). And he did have to make some concessions when deciding to separate himself from his umbilical. He doesn’t have access to his extremely competent problem solving processes or the entire history of the world, among other things? But he does bring along his lucky 8 neurons. that’s probably enough i guess? Surely nothing bad will happen.

But hey, at least he can pet the animals now! He once raised an entire pack of genetically modified yellow lizards (in the name of science). After they passed, he decided (foolishly) to hybridize lizard and slugcat (again, in the name of science). The little beast continues to haunt him to this day, eating his brain cells and chewing through his wires, refusing to be trained unless there’s a reward in it for her. He named her Nips at Neurons, after the first thing she did when she escaped for the first time. He adores her.

also his antenna do this

[lovifie]

Back to Masterlist

Hi, this a post about callsigns characters could have because I love "cool" sounding nicknames with the most stupid backstory:

Rat: Because when you first entered the team you were so shy that when you weren't on a mission they could only see you scurrying out of a room whenever they entered like a little mouse. Plus, Gaz keeps saying you look like the rat from the Wallace and Gromit movie when eating breakfast.

Knockout/Knock: Because Soap and you were playing around, he was following you and you were running so fast you didn't notice the door was locked and you ran into it so hard you knocked yourself out.

Icarus: You made fun of Ghost for being British and about how they always burn when they tan only for you to go and get such an aggressive sunburn you were required to take medical leave for two weeks.

Pudding: After a mission you were craving it so bad that you didn't care that the only one left was way past its recommended date for eating. And after reassuring them that you would be fine you ended up throwing up so hard late at night that you woke up everybody.

Mole: Because when you are not wearing your glasses you are so blind they wonder how did you even made it into the military. Many people think you are just a spy that the task force kept as a pet.

Pierrot: Which is a sad clown, often pining for the love of Columbine, who usually breaks his heart and leaves him for Harlequin. And since that's basically a compilation of your love life that became your name, a sad clown but in Italian.

Anakin: You tried to download one of the Star Wars movies from a not-so-trustworthy website, you ended up downloading such a massive amount of viruses that you were almost the reason for the downfall of the whole military because of how aggressive the hack attack was. You now have parental control on everything that has internet access.

Navi: As in the fairy that travels with Link on the Legend of Zelda. Because every time that you would try to de-escalate an argument you would start like: "Hey, listen, we are all tired." "Hey, listen, let's all take a breath." "Hey, listen, we are all adults."

Gecko: Because while sleeping on deployment a gecko fell on your face from the ceiling, and you became so terrified of them that you barely slept for months after that.

Baby: Do you know when you accidentally call your teacher "mom"? Well, it happened to you, but you called Price "dad" and he didn't skip a beat before answering "Yes, babygirl?"

I could go on and on with these, I hope you find it at least half as funny as I do. Feel free to use them however you want and to add to the list as well, please I'll love to read them. 🩷🩷

Also, I would definitely be Mole, my blind ass would shoot and wish for the best. Which one would you guys be?? Also, Knockout and Icarus are my favourite ones and the reason I made the post hehe

Also, the rat I mentioned:

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Also, if your username is underlined/looks different from the rest or you won't get the notif, please check your tagging settings as it doesn't allow me to do it any differently

[n0tamused]

Came across House of Dragons and kinda got invested then I saw you accept Jiyan requests so now I’m kinda thinking what a mixture of the two would be like….Jiyan with his own dragon riding in Westeros…Jiyan courting you despite protests from his court…Jiyan protecting his queen from anyone that tries to hurt her or his heirs…idk I am just a causal watcher I have no clue what’s actually going on in GoT and HoD tbh

A/n: I'm uploading this from my phone because I just can't wait to post this, so if there's formatting or grammar errors - rest assured, I'll do my best to get to it once I get on my laptop. Where do I begin though? 😭 My goodness, you couldn't have sent me a better idea than this one oml. I'm smooching you on the head istg, thank you so much for this request! And I hope you enjoy this jumbled ramble <3 I'd love to do more of this little au and I most definitely will, and for some other characters as well.

Contents: Jiyan x Reader, headcanons, you/yours, written with a F! Reader in mind, dragonrider reader and Jiyan, Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon universe, pregnancy, angst, happy ending, somewhat arranged marriage lol, tell me if there's anything else to tag.

-War had taken many noble houses to an early grave, leaving behind nothing but ghosts and ruin over the vast lands. The ones that remained standing were either the rich or the cruel. All except one.

-Jiyan, originally hailing from Jinzhou, and belonging to no noble or rich lineage. His mother was a notorious healer, and his father had long been lost to travels and war himself.

-He had joined the battles as a young green boy alongside his mother, moving beside the long columns of soldiers in their tattered armor and ringmail. All he could do was stare at them in wonder and question - Why do they spill so much blood? For what?

-There was no looming threat of the Others coming to claim their lives, it was just them - the people and the common folk, yet they fought each other like animals for a few extra inches of land or a few extra coppers in their liege lord's pocket.

-As much as Jiyan didn't wish to engage in the art of war and bloodshed and only wanted to heal and save, it became apparent, all too soon, that the way to survival and peace was through battle. Healing will get him nowhere, and if a good commander was not put at the front, it wouldn't matter how well he healed if two in three soldiers died, even after receiving his aid.

-The war changed him, hardened his heart and fortified his mind, until the healer he once was became only a distant memory. Spear replaced herbs, and instead of the tattered medic tunic he now donned armor and ringmail. A companion also joined his side after he ran into a deep cavern for safety during one particular battle. A large unclaimed dragon, which nearly took his head off now stood at his side like a mountain, guardian him day and night and heralding the doom of his enemies with a thunderous roar and loud snap of it's wings. The dragon was a beautiful pale green, with bronze horns and amber eyes with darker lines of green running over its back. It was a beauty as much as it was a beast. Men quickly took to respect him, and it became evident Jiyan’s person hid many talents besides that for medical aid and spear holding.

-The previous commander perished, another life taken by the savage ways of war, and Jiyan was appointed as the new commander by the soldiers after he rose to the occasion - having led them to success in war, as well as safety when the odds did not favor them.

-It was during his reign as the lead commander that the lands saw the end of the war. Blood was shed, yes, but not for naught.

-Upon his return to the central city, the throne was found vacant, the king slain along with his entire council. The word of it was that they were taken unawares from the seaside, and had no ways of defense, as all the manpower was at the front lines

-Jiyan came into his rule as king at a young age, far too soon, and yet despite all the doubt he had flourished quickly. Proving himself as an able and just ruler, unlike the ones that came before, his foundation as a commander giving him good wind in the back

-The city wasn't in good condition after the war, but in the years following Jiyan had sent many commands that would aid in its rebuilding

-Slowly, but surely, the common folk started to feel the dawn of a new age - summer has finally come.

-The one thing Jiyan has gladly forgotten about was marriage. As a king, it was expected of him to take a bride to be his queen, to have heirs and to start a new lineage that would, hopefully, carry better blood instead of the hot blood that sought destruction. It wasn't something he often thought about as other duties preoccupied him day in and day out. But it was neither something he was against.. Deep in his heart he would admit a thought of his own family did make him feel…alive. But how would that family fare in these conditions? With his status? This was nothing like his small village he grew up in, so the image he once had in his mind was no longer so clear.

-His mother was a person he'd eventually seek advice from regarding such tender subjects, earning himself a laugh occasionally, as his cluelessness was rather amusing. Where other Kings misused their power and gave commands as they saw fit, Jiyan exercised caution, and even sympathy for the bride he didn't even have yet.

-Eventually, a match was arranged, between him and a lady of a higher birth. His mother had met you before he did and vouched for your good character - but Jiyan remained nervous, vowing to keep his judgment and thoughts to himself until he met you himself.

-Your journey to the city was a long one, yet you entered the long and towering palace halls like a breath of fresh air. Keeping your lady wits about yourself and keeping your courtesies with you, you had quickly rubbed off on Jiyan. The wedding was still a matter of question, as Jiyan had insisted on giving you and your family the due time to explore the city and to see whether this was truly something they wanted to go through with. His compassion was answered in kind by many gifts sent from the city they hailed from, consisting of foreign fruits and vegetables to cattle and coins and silks.

-It was endearing. And the courtship between Jiyan and (Y/n) soon began, as the former began to make moves. He preferred to do so in some amounts of privacy, as the many eyes that followed him as King were uncomfortable and he swore he could never get used to them.

-This seemed to please and comfort his bride-to-be as well, and both of them would show their true colors. It was a rare thing for a royal match to be founded in love rather than simple responsibilities to make heirs, but it wasn't unheard of either.

-What they both had in common was that they were dragon riders. (Y/n)’s dragon was a stark comparison to his own with red scales and two pairs of black horns and dark amber eyes, the underside of the dragon’s wings being a shade of yellow that looked like gold under the sunlight. It was a terrifying dragon, arguably even more scary than his own mount.

-When no one was looking, the two would go down to the Dragon Pit and take their dragons to the skies, racing over the cities with one another or going over the seas to breathe the salty air. It was an escape from duty as well. The moment their dragons took to air, all status and responsibilities remained on the ground, and only the sky was the limit to their freedom.

-Jiyan relished in this freedom like a luxurious drink he could never tire of, and your laughter was a sound like no other.

-The dragons took to liking one another as well, and would dance in the air while the pair were seated on their backs, spinning and falling, and right before the ground came too close they'd pull away and take to the skies once more.

-The commonfolk took this as a good omen. The dragons ruled the skies again, and a good King was on the throne, with a good queen soon to join him.

-Jiyan would find himself inviting (Y/n) to his chambers in early mornings to break their fast together or late dinners to share their day with one another. It was as if the two were already married. And even that wasn't too far from coming true.

-The wedding was a big event. Tables and tents were set all the way out and around the keep as well as in the big ballroom inside. Although Jiyan would've preferred to keep the celebrations a modest one, the council insisted that this occasion warranted the eyes of everyone, the joy had to be shared. This once he gave in to their requests.

-Flower petals were thrown on them as they passed by the rows of commonfolk standing at the sides of the rode, him and his Queen riding at the back of an open carriage dragged by four horses, white and elegant with plumes in their manes. Everything was near perfect and out of a fairy tale.

-King and Queen would share their dance in the ballroom once they returned from the High Sept where they got married before the priest, sharing their first kiss - something Jiyan made sure to cover and hide to the best of his abilities by pulling your veil over both of your faces.

-The celebration lasted all the way into the eerie hours of the night. And both Jiyan and you were exhausted, and upon retiring to your shared bed chamber you simply collapsed onto the plush mattress.

-That night, Jiyan fell asleep with his lover in his arms, watching your soft breaths make your chest rise and fall in slow successions, his fingertips tracing the lines of your face and the skin of your back, until he couldn't resist the urge to sleep.

-This wasn't a life Jiyan asked for…but it was one he was glad for.

-Children came later. A lovely little daughter being the first to be born of the love from the King and Queen, bearing the signature feature of you. Jiyan was beyond happy.

-During the birth of his daughter he was in the city, conducting business over a new architecture project when news arrived that his Queen had gone into labor. It is believed he had never dropped a matter as quickly as he did that day, racing back to the keep and searching for his wife.

-Despite the protests of the midwives, he responded only to you, racing to your side and giving you comfort and encouragement if nothing else, welcoming the fruit of your shared love together. It was the first time Jiyan ever cried in front of anyone else. He had delegated some more of his duties to the others in favor of having the time to spend with his newborn and you, helping you recover from the birth.

-It wasn't rare to see Jiyan roaming the dark halls in the middle of the night to visit the kitchens for food for you, bringing back foods and snacks, whatever you wished, even the weird food cravings. Hell, sometimes he'd indulge in them alongside you. Once, during your first pregnancy you requested a big honeycomb, and it just happened Jiyan felt like a sweettooth that evening as well. That ended with you sharing quite a candid moment, lips sticky with honey with a waxy feel between your teeth as you tried not to laugh at one another.

-The second pregnancy was a boy, following two years after the daughter was born, and he came with a little more trouble. The new prince was quite a big baby, and the birth left you even more exhausted. A fever soon settled within you, greatly worrying Jiyan and the entire council. You could barely hold the boy to feed him without shaking, and the fever lasted for days.

-It was the scariest time of Jiyan’s life. Any moment spent away from you plunged a dagger into his heart that twisted itself further in. It pained him. And he nearly got sick himself from worry.

-There were maids around you constantly, when he couldn't assist you it was them that took care of you. His mother was close by as well, bringing you great herbal teas and green tea cakes and broths. The time for you was a blur, filled with uncomfortable heat of your body and sticky feelings of sweat.. does it ever end?

-It was as if the whe world was plunged into depression once you fell ill. Dark clouds corresponded with Jiyan’s bitter and grieving mood, and the dragons themselves were restless. In this time, the others, outside of his kingdom, saw it fit to attack and plunder the neighboring villages and cities.

-You had recovered enough to talk, but your days were still mostly spent by sleeping and eating.

-You could vaguely remember seeing Jiyan entering your chamber, holding your son for a short while before putting him back in his crib. A concerned look pinched his brows together, you could remember, as his gaze went to you.

- “My love?... Are you alright?” He'd ask as he kneeled by the side of your bed, taking your hand in both of his and kissing the knuckles that felt like they were ablaze underneath his lips. He was dressed in all armor, a sword at his hip. Why was he leaving?.. Where?

-It all seemed like a dream, an illusion borne from your illness, but it was real. He had a duty over the kingdom, and over you. Yet it pained him no less to leave the place he was closest to you. He had entrusted your care to his mother and the maids, and he had already bid farewell to your daughter. She had clung to him like a moss clings to a tree, asking him when he'd return.

-You couldn't give a reply, staring somewhere through him.

-Has the reign of peace perished so quickly?

-His dragon waited at the Dragonpits, and the troops were already marching out of the city gates when he took to fly over them, leading them to the front lines once more.

-You recovered in the following days, finding yourself alone - not literally, as there were maids and servants all flocking to you, but Jiyan wasn't there. His Hand sat the throne instead of him. And your children had grown significantly, as if years had passed instead of several days.

-Responsibilities choked you until you began to move, throwing yourself back into work and and duty. Your son was always at your hip or breast, making up for the time lost. And your daughter was always pulling at your skirts unless she was at her lessons.

-It was a restless period, and a terrifying one. The first letter you sent to Jiyan was met with an ecstatic response, him being overjoyed you were healthy again, yet he encouraged you to rest more.

-His other letters brought bitter news of losses and bloodshed and treason, but he reassured they were holding strong. You could only believe him.

-Months passed. Months. And a letter from Jiyan was yet to come in. It worried you. This everlasting silence, it was of more concern than the sorrowful letters.

-During one evening as you sat on one of the tall balconies of the palace, overlooking the city as your son cooed in your arms, you heard a shriek. One coming from your dragon in the Dragonpits. The dragon was as restless as you, her calls weren't foreign to hear, but this time her shriek was returned by a call of another.

-Your husband's dragon flew down from the murky clouds. The green dragon roared, splitting the sound mid air, earning another roar from your own dragon.

-Jiyan has returned.

-You’re unsure how you raced so quickly down to meet him, with a babe in your arms and not properly dressed either. Appearances didn't matter. Your husband's return did. He mattered.

-And once you saw one another, nothing else could hold you back from running into eachother’s arms, the baby carefully tucked between the two of you in a protective embrace as Jiyan kissed both of your heads, pressing his forehead against yours soon after, laughter shaking his shoulders and chest.

-He was sure he could cry right now, and seeing you shed tears of joy almost encouraged him.

-Jiyan knew he'd split the world in half if it meant keeping you whole and with him.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[itsticklishme23]

🌸 NEST post incoming… 🌸

“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.” ✨

Wow… I don’t even have the words to express the gratitude, bliss, and surreal feeling i have to have met all of the wonderful people at NEST. Thank you to everyone for the best time and for making my first NEST so unforgettable! I’m so sad I had to leave early, but the time I did get with everyone was BEYOND beautiful!! I met so many amazing loving people, the respectfulness and kindness (and bullying AHEM 🙄😜) I experienced from you all is just absolutely special and beyond any group/community I’ve been apart of. A HUUUGE thank you to the incredible organizers for creating such an amazing event. To my old and new friends: I LOVE YOU BIG!!

I know this is a kinda late NEST post hahah and I’m sure one day I’ll make a post of all the fun stuff that happened, or maybe I’ll keep some of it as memories between us, but I just absolutely had to make an appreciation post for the people that made it so special because that’s what it’s all about for me 🥰

~ firstly a huge thank you to @spiffytickler for being an amazing friend and the whole reason I even made it to NEST in the first place!! Seriously wouldn’t have even been there without you, and I’m so grateful to you, my dear friend ☺️ plus your pep talks and protector/“mother hen” energy was so appreciated, and I adore you ❤️

~ and of course the beautiful and sweet @yourlittlettoy with your illuminating presence and your sweet lil gifts just make my whole heart smile!! How did I get so lucky to know you let alone have a bestie in you!! ❤️❤️ I love you forever!

~ getting to meet and spend time with @kusugurihime was an absolute pleasure and joy, you’re such a sweetie pie! I can’t wait for us to reunite 🥹❣️

~ a huge thank you to @mister-ttt for being the sweetest friend, the best bidder HEHEH and just having a heart of gold, and being an amazing protector. Even though we met at NEST you’ve already easily become one of my favorite people and I see a sweet friendship blooming 🥰

~ getting to finally meet @toadallytickles was also a cherry on top!! Your kindness and attentiveness to your friends helps me see the sweetness in your soul and I’m grateful you extended that same sweetness to me, and I can’t wait to see you again ☺️

~ @puzz-ler we finally got to actually hug and have an amazing time after years of being friends, and you’re easily cementing your bestie status too ���🫶🏾 as sassy as you can be 🙄 lol but you’re still great and so generous with your kindness, which I forever appreciate 🖤

~ and meeting @ticklita literally made my whole weekend that much better bc you’re such a sweet, kind, precious lil strawberry 🍓 and I can’t wait to visit you and see you again!! 🥰

Plus many, many, many more that would probably take up your whole page for miles hahah i wish I could tag every single person who made nest special! But I promise if I didn’t tag you, you still mean a lot to me. And simply put, I’m already dreaming of reuniting again with you all with massive hugs and cheek kissies soon 😘💋 I can’t wait to see you all again, and I hope everyone who went had a truly amazing experience. If we met and didn’t get each other’s info to keep in touch, please feel free to message me and connect! The giggles, laughter, teasing, bratiness, jokes, silliness, love, and just the right amount of “mean-ness” were perfect hehe. My lil subby lee heart is full and missing you all already ❤️

[its-time-to-write]

in love with an idea

This is a very, very, v e r y minor study in the way that Jamie handles his sexuality, and the fact that sometimes it seems he thinks his only value comes from being sexy and playing football. And the fact that sometimes, one night stands are crap even if they feel good. It happens. Especially if you go home with someone wishing they were someone else. Anyway, I have another fic in the works, should be posted soon. I’ve been absent because I’m writing a long one that will never ever see the light of day because it is way too self indulgent. As if this next one isn’t going to be long and self indulgent as well. Thanks to all y’all who support my writing!! Those of you who leave comments/tags have my whole entire heart, and there is no such thing as too many comments. Special shoutout to @whimsical-roasting and @qquell bc you’re probably my biggest/most vocal supporters and I love you🥺🥺 Ok that’s enough words, enjoy the fic!

in love with an idea

Jamie feels like shit which is weird, because he doesn’t usually feel this way after hookups. He can tell you don’t notice because you just plop down on the locker room bench next to him and ask, “Did ya call your mum yet?” while grinning far too brightly. 

Jamie is going to throw up. You’re smiling at him and he’s going to throw up so he gets up and rushes out of the room without a word. He pretends that he left so fast that he didn’t see your grin fade. 

He’s headed to the pitch because that’s where he’s supposed to be anyway, but all he can think about is the fact that it should have been you in his bed last night. After all, it was your name that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. It was your face he kept thinking of, and your body he was imagining. 

The girl had left satisfied, knowing exactly what she had signed up for, but he still feels like he used her. It’s not her fault that he’s in love with you but took her home, and yet it feels bad anyway. He wonders why no one ever talks about the shitty side of one-night stands. He has a vague recollection of Roy saying something to that effect one time, but other than that, he’s in completely unfamiliar territory.

He throws himself into training with more vigor than usual, purposely running himself ragged. 

Meanwhile, you’re still on the bench looking stupefied. Isaac slides next to you in the spot Jamie vacated. 

He says, “You should probably check on him,” with his usual solemn gravitas so you nod and decide to do just that.

—

You don’t have time check on Jamie until after training. Ted has you running all around Nelson Road so you just barely catch Jamie in the parking lot. 

“Hey!” you call. “You alright?”

Jamie spins around, icon hat atop damp hair. “Yeah, sure, good, yeah!” he says, and now you’re absolutely positive that something’s wrong. You raise an eyebrow. 

“That totally sounds like something a completely alright person would say, but for some reason I don’t believe you. Is something wrong with your mum? Is that why you got all weird when I asked?”

“What?” Jamie says. “Oh. No. She’s good, yeah. She’s good. I did call her. Talked for a while, which was nice. Talked about this girl I like, actually.” 

The words are barely out of his mouth when Jamie wishes he could sink into the ground. Fuck his stupid rambling. 

“Oh?” you say, eyebrow still quirked. “That’s new.”

Jamie shrugs. “Yeah, it is,” he says and then his mouth betrays him once again as he continues, “I’m actually really nervous about talking to her.”

You laugh. That is utterly ridiculous, and you tell him so. “You’re Jamie fucking Tartt, Premier League footballer. People throw themselves at you every day and you eat all that attention up. Why is she so different? Hold on, are you blushing?” 

You laugh. He totally is, but he denies it. 

“Look,” he says. “She ain’t like a lot of people. She’s fucking…smart or some shit. Not that other people aren’t!” he continues, “But she’s just… different, like. She’s one of fucking… four people who are immune to my natural sexy glow.” 

The way Jamie says the word sexy is always interesting because he never used it comedically. It’s always inserted in some serious declaration of himself, as if that and football are the only points of value he believes he has. You wrinkle your nose. “How is that possible? No one is immune. Except maybe Roy. I heard he got his anti-Tartt vaccine boosted last week. Maybe it worked a little too well,” you say worriedly. 

“I dunno,” Jamie says. “She said she’s looking for someone smart and I don’t really think I fall in that category. All brawn on me, innit?”

He quirks a smile to mask this strange discomfort he has. You’re not used to seeing him anything less than confident. 

“Well Jaim,” you say after a beat, “as someone who is also looking for someone ‘smart,’ it really isn’t about IQ. It’s like… it’s like someone who actually talks to you and has interesting things to say. And is interested in learning, not just from me but from whoever and whatever. And someone who doesn’t talk down. Because, god,” you laugh, “I’ve been on so many dates that are just exhausting because all these smart people want to flex their knowledge instead of sharing it. It’s like a fucked-up power struggle. I never feel that way with you, y’know?”

Jamie tilts his head in a cocky go on type of way. 

There he is. 

You roll your eyes. “What I mean is, you actually listen to what I say and ask questions, and aren’t rude when I don’t understand something that comes easy to you. My corner kicks are getting better, by the way,” you interject. “Sunday evening practice is paying off.” Jamie comes over every Sunday evening to kick a ball around with you on the Richmond Green.

“Of course they are,” he grins. “Learning from the best, aren’t you?” You flip his hat off his head and catch it, returning his smile. 

“Just ask her out, Jaim. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And,” you add, “bring her round! Not enough footballer girlfriends around here.”

Jamie looks at you a moment, taking in the picture of you in Nelson Road’s parking lot, his cap on you head and a smile on your face that he made. 

“Right,” he says, then turns to walk to his car. He’s at the door when he turns and walks back. 

“Forgot something,” he says to your bemused expression. You point to his hat still on your head. 

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “That ain’t it. It’s you. You’re the girl. I talked to me mum about you because I think you’re fucking great. If I’m not your type, that’s alright, but fuck it, I just really fucking like you.”

He takes a step closer. “I’m going to kiss you, so now’s your chance to walk away.”

You don’t. 

You let him flip the icon hat backwards and cup your face in his hands, far more gently than you thought him capable of as he tips your head up to his. 

His lips are soft on yours, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact that Trent Crimm is walking by you, shooting furtive looks your way but you don’t care. 

“I think you’re fucking great too,” you reply when you finally come up for air. 

Jamie grins. “Wanna go on a proper date tonight? Been thinking about where I’d take you for ages. I can pick you up in an hour thirty.”

You smile. 

That sounds great. 

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin. 

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill. 

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry. 

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen. 

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life. 

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up. 

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure. 

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room. 

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin. 

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was. 

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon. 

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table. 

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way. 

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast. 

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours. 

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room. 

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions. 

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying. 

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace. 

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned. 

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy. 

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace. 

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up. 

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door. 

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan,  asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl. 

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly. 

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands. 

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use. 

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy. 

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one. 

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you. 

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person. 

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest. 

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through. 

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero. 

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship. 

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless. 

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim. 

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight. 

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death. 

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight. 

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails. 

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends. 

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face. 

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed. 

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her. 

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade. 

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this? 

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away. 

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry. 

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this? 

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks. 

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur. 

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it. 

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all. 

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching. 

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions. 

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up. 

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile. 

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation. 

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

[xxhypersomnia]

IMPORTANT NEWS BULLETIN ⚠️⚠️⚠️ for all fanfic writers

I’ve seen so many sad posts lately about fic writers who feel tired, unappreciated, and generally not good at what they do.

And it absolutely breaks my heart!

All of you are so wonderful. I wish I could write as well as everyone on this app, and especially everyone in the Pedro Pascal fandom. Y’all are fucking killing it.!

And I love the variety.

I love short simple stories, and long ones that I’m invested in for days.

I love simple writing that’s easy to read, and one’s that are written in a style that sometimes make me reread a sentence twice to understand.

It shows the breadth and range of ability in this world and I think it’s beautiful. It makes my heart hurt to see people who enjoy creating, especially young creators, feel discouraged by the amount of likes or lack of interaction.

That doesn’t mean it’s bad!!!

So much is based on algorithm, tags, popularity, fads, personal ebbs and waves people go through and what they feel like reading. I promise it is not a reflection on your ability.

If you are proud of something, then it’s good.

If you put effort and brain power into something, then it’s good.

And maybe it’ll take a while for someone to find you. But to that someone, it may be their favorite story. Or the story that picked them up off the floor that day. You never know.

So please keep writing. For you. For how it lets your creativity that wells inside you become something tangible. Continue to leave your mark on the internet, and improve your skills, and want to grow. I beg of you. Because I have honestly never seen a place as beautiful as this. Where creativity can flow freely and our favorite fandoms and characters can live on forever.

Send me your fics, I will read them. But I can only do that if you keep writing 💖

[book-nerd-emi]

“Doctors Suck” (part 1)

TW: This story talks a lot about death and leukemia and this chapter takes place in a hospital!!

As I open my eyes, the searing lights above me scar me. I blink rapidly, trying to get the pain to go away faster, even if it never indeed does. Once my eyes semi-adjust, my nose is hit with the burning-my-nosehairs-off smell of the chemicals. Every time I smell it, I just imagine the people who clean the rooms frantically scrubbing to try and scrub the death that occurs here. But can you honestly do that? It’s always there, never gone; the smell and everything that comes with it may leave, but the thought, the reminder, if you will, is always there. Somedays, I wonder if anyone’s died in this room I’m in. I wonder who they were and why they were here. Who misses them daily; who has that ache in their hearts that makes it hard to move on? Who can not look at a hospital anymore because it reminds them of that person’s last moments? Those last breaths? Those last “I love you”s? I make stories about those kids. I think I do it to make me feel more comfortable with the idea of dying.

Now, I know that leukemia has one of the higher survival rates, but there’s always that little voice in your head telling you, “This could be your last day, you know?” or “You could die today.” Like little Layla. She was 11. She loved animals, everything from snakes to dogs, fairies, and princesses. Her favorite color was blue for two reasons. One was that blue reminded her of her dad’s eyes. The second is that her favorite princess, Cinderella, is dressed in blue. She had a pilocytic astrocytoma brain tumor, but they caught it too late. I like to believe she’s having so much fun dancing with a prince in a blue dress; her kingdom is full of fairies and animals. Or how about little Miss Maeve? Maeve got diagnosed with leukemia, like me, but at seven years old instead of 10 like me. Even though she was so young, while she was here, in this bed, she found that she loved computers. She was exceptionally good at coding. I knew Maeve. She went to school with me; we were the best of friends. I sometimes see her sister Bronwyn around. I don’t think any of the Rojas will ever be the same. I think that’s the other scary part about death. The idea that I’m leaving all these people behind without me. I don’t want to leave them hurting like that.

Maeve, however, had a saying. “I’ll be in a better place with better beds.” I have to agree with her on this. The beds here are so uncomfortable. It feels like I’m laying on a bed of rocks with a scratchy sheet. Why are the beds so uncomfortable? Isn’t the whole point of hospitals to help people with their problems? If so, then why are we having the most uncomfortable beds on the face of the Earth in a place where you are supposed to be focused on healing yourself? Half the time, I am focused on the fact that I can never get super comfy in this stupid bed. This bed is covered in a total of 5 blankets, four pillows, and ten stuffed animals. And even still, it is not that comfy. All this just made it slightly more bearable.

a/n: RAGHDHSODNRKR first (writing) post!!! this i think will probably be one of the longer sections for this chapter mostly just cause it sets the tone and whatever. this chapter is just so long that i physically couldn’t post THAT many words in one post. the amount of just stuff that NEEDED to be said in this first chapter is crazy. anyways i hoped yall enjoyed oh em gee!!

tags: @wish-i-were-heather , @shattered-glass-roses , @a-menace-to-society-01 (im sure others said yes or something like it but i don’t remember who sooooo just tell me if you want to be tagged ig)

[lemonzestywrites]

writing patterns

tagged by @jeeyuns @devirnis ty lovelies!!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

a foundation of trust a love we cannot see

| buck/eddie, WIP, explicit, BDSM, slow burn, fwb (3/17 ch. 61k) |

Weird calls aren’t unusual in their field. That’s a simple given with their job- one that Eddie has definitely come to learn by now.

===

let me find some warmth inside this little love of mine

| buck/eddie, teen, new year’s eve, first kiss, mutual pining (4k) |

Loud and Eddie are two things that usually have a record of not mixing well. Eddie can deal with chaotic. He can deal with crazy and hectic and adrenaline seizing his body during every call.

===

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

| buck/eddie, explicit, introspection, fwb, getting together (25k) |

Eddie wants to be supportive about this; really, he does.

===

the place in my heart that used to be yours

| buck/eddie, general, angst, bedside vigils, feelings realization (1.9k) |

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

===

temptation comes from wants we cannot yet claim

| buck/eddie, teen, angst, coma, getting together, dream (8k) |

There’s a soft feeling that gradually, from the depths of Eddie’s chest, finds itself being emerged as he’s eased awake. The slumber makes its way out of his body in a slow, methodical pull. It makes no rush to leave, allowing Eddie to enjoy the gentle serenity that the early morning still has to offer.

===

our sweet love (built on the unspoken things)

| buck/eddie, 5+1, getting together, mutual pining, non-sexual intimacy (8k) |

Eddie isn’t really sure he could really classify himself as a coffee person.

===

five more minutes

| buck/eddie, established relationship, snuggle, morning cuddles (2k) |

Eddie really wishes he could learn how to properly sleep in. To lie in bed, asleep without a care on a weekend like this, and wake up sometime past 9 o’clock. To him, ‘sleeping in’ has always been whenever he finds himself the luxury of having to wake up anytime past 5:45 am, but today, like most days, his inner body clock works against him. Even without his alarm, Eddie found himself easing out of slumber, the world around him growing more present and alert as the sleep rolled off his shoulders.

===

jadeite hearts could never cost this much

| buck/eddie, first kiss, sharing a bed, non-sexual intimacy (6k) |

If Eddie is being completely honest with himself, he has definitely thought about kissing Buck a couple of times before (maybe more than a couple if he’s being generous). He can’t exactly pinpoint when he started doing it; there’s no definitive moment that set it all off. Just one day, he had found himself staring off at Buck’s lips, transfixed on a phantom feeling that he could only dream to experience. His mind drifted, wondering what it would feel like, how soft Buck’s lips would be, where exactly he’d place his hands. It had taken an embarrassing couple of minutes before he had caught himself, only then realizing the severity of the situation and what that meant.

===

t-rex kisses

| buck/eddie, established relationship, late night conversations, non sexual intimacy (1.7k) |

Buck loves his job. Undeniably so. It’s probably one of, if not the best, things that’s ever happened to him, and he could never imagine life without it. It’s brought him so many amazing things in his life now: belonging, safety, love, a place to call home, people to call family, and in recent developments- the newfound love of his life.

===

exactly what you were looking for

| buck/eddie, domestic fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal (3k) |

Eddie is 6 years old, sitting in Adriana’s room, watching as his older sister plays with her Barbies without a care in the world, when in the smallest, most curious voice, he asks, “How do you know when you’ve found your true love?”

===

it’s super interesting to see my little habits all laid out like this! obviously i might have a preference on pov 😅 but i love doing little character introspections or even just random little factoids i later dive into- this is very fun!!

tagging- @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @kitteneddiediaz @aroeddiediaz @wildlife4life and anyone else interested!!

[14carrotghoul]

Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

Thank you to @cha-melodius for tagging me! Have added so many of y'all's wonderful fics to my list from this tag game so I wanna see what y'all are proudest of! Tagging @read-and-write- @dumbpeachjuice @sherryvalli @cultofsappho

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @indomitable-love @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland

@orchidscript @xthelastknownsurvivorx @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @myheartalivewrites and anyone else that wants to share their personal favorites!!!!

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces 

[...]Thirdly, and most importantly, the music that’s playing is his music, not some flowery French waltz. These are songs that he’s heard since before he could talk. Songs that remind him of Saturday drives with his dad hunting down their favorite flavors of Helados at several grocery stores (mamey for his dad; pecan for himself). Of cleaning with his grandmother when she babysat until she dropped everything to watch her novelas. Smearing masa on corn husks until his fingers went pruny on Christmas Eve. Raucous birthday parties that are responsible for his well-earned anxiety near bouncy castles.

Solo Déjame Estar Junto a Ti

Alex nods decisively and says, “H, you are my choice and the absolute love of my life. I love you and I love your heart and I love your mind and I love the way you’re about to freak the fuck out when I say you have bewitched me, body and soul – ” he pauses because Henry’s chest positively heaves with a sob “ – and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” His smile widens and he opens the box. “Henry Fox, will you marry me?

True Blue

Henry wades further into the ocean, the Ionian lapping gently against his ribs before he tugs Alex closer and cradles him, whispering poetry in his ear, all sun-kissed skin and besotted smiles; his own private sun tucked safely in his embrace, nourishing him with his endless blaze.

Henry helps. Of course he helps but he's not always enough to cut through his cyclone of a brain; he hasn't been around when he fucks up and cracks under the pressure and spirals into panic attacks and unwise pulls of Maker's Mark straight from the bottle. Henry is there, holding him and helping him breathe and it makes him love him so much more for staying and fear far more deeply because eventually everyone leaves. Henry insists he never will but he doesn't get it he doesn't get it he doesn't get it. He is so alone and he is never alone - not as long as he's getting secretly photographed by fellow students at the library or being blasted on Fox News as their latest scapegoat for everything wrong with America or taking selfies with a barista when all he wants is a triple shot mocha and a fucking break.

Impossible to Ignore, Impossible to Ignore 

His brain is a perpetual maelstrom of immigration law and prayers in Nahuatl and stupid shit like Fergie singing the national anthem. It never shuts the fuck up. However, just being in Henry's presence makes everything else fade away. Wait… FUCK.  Henry looks away, alerting Alex to the fact that he's been staring at him in silence like a total weirdo. For good reason, though, because even though he never entertained the idea that he's into guys, Henry's face - even when exhausted and gray - is inarguable proof of a higher power. Like aurora borealis or the first time he heard Dreams by The Cranberries.

A Love That Haunts the Land [I am particularly proud of the bonkers plot and characterization in this, especially Pez and Raf, but also Nora's introduction below fills me with so much fucking joy]

Alex lives with his best friend/ex-girlfriend/sister-in-law Nora, who Henry meets for the first time while half-naked (and not the half he would've preferred).  She waltzes into the flat with a mischievous glint in her eye, slides onto the couch with them, and steals the remote for their sound system without saying a word. A few seconds later, she's blasting “WAP” and brutally murdering whatever shred remained of the mood while Henry clutches a throw pillow between his legs and begs desperately for the ever-so-elusive release of death. "Do you, like, mind?" Alex yells over the mantra of there’s some whores in this house.

two homes (side by side) 

His deep laugh kicks with the power of a bucking bronco, taking the whole room into hysterics with him – especially if the little ones are around (and they are always around). Abuelo Alex warms the space and fills it with grand and irreverent energy. He weaves tales so magical the kids don't believe him until one of them will chirp, “Is it true, Grandpa Henry?” And he nods sagely, if only to hear them gasp with delight.

Tiempo de Vals 

Before they call it and head back, Alex warns, "FYI, June has a crush on the other guys in the court that aren't related to her. So - you know - you're in the danger zone." "That won't be a problem." Henry blushes again (seriously, does this guy have a condition?) which makes it harder to believe him. "June's not the type of person I'm interested in, and she knows it." Alex half-jokes, "Why not? Are you racist or something?" "I'm gay," Henry answers with an amused huff. Without missing a beat, Alex kisses his teeth in mock disappointment and drawls, "Dodging the question, I see." Henry rolls his eyes and can't help but smile. "You're a menace." "Well, you're not beating the racism allegations with that attitude."

[fizzyginfizz]

“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.”

― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

It's been forever since I posted anything - fic or tumblr - and I wanted to pop in and let the six beautiful, wonderful, enthusiastic people who follow Quidditch is for Losers know that I am, indeed, still working on it.

But, I'm also in the phase where I've written way too many words and I'm streamlining storyline and killing darlings.

This hurts me. Editing hurts. I always write waaaaay too much. So every now and then, I might bury some of my dead darlings in this tumblr graveyard.

You six beautiful, wonderful, enthusiastic people? I hope you find and enjoy this microfic that used to be the beginning of the next QifL chapter.

But no longer is. Because it's dead. I've killed it.

Little dots splashed on the page as Ginny shook her quill, muttering her scratched words out loud, wondering what she could possibly say next. Dear Bill, Got back last night to unpack-then-pack-again to find smuggled stack of parchment with “Dear Bill” already doodled on each sheet. Also - dozen quills with tiny tags labelled “Me, too. Charlie.” “Ginny! We’re leaving for the Leaky now!” Ron’s voice shot up the stairwell. From her cross-legged position on her bedroom floor, Ginny yelled through the door. “You lot go on without me, I’ll follow in a few!” Her quill hovered over parchment. “And take my trunk with you!” she added, before turning back to her letter. Not subtle. Couldn’t - “Ginny?” Percy’s voice yanked her off her train of thought. “Your trunk is on the landing.” “Maybe someone who can legally use a wand can levitate it downstairs?” Ginny huffed, jabbing her quill back into the ink. “Since you’re all packed for school, Bill should know we’ve arrived home. Maybe you should-” Percy was cut off with a loud thump. Ginny could hear Fred’s oomph through the door. “Who left their trunk on the landing?” “Someone,” Ginny groaned, “who’d like someone else - perhaps with a wand and a blatant disregard for underage magic law- to levitate it to the floo?” “Oi,” George said, too casually from the other side of the door. “Did anyone let Bill know we’ve arrived home?” “Wish I had some parchment,” Fred added, sounding like his mouth was aimed right at the keyhole. “And quills,” George added. “Ginny?” Percy called through the door. “Do you happen to have parchment and quills?” “Perhaps tucked into your travel trunk?” “If you were to stumble upon some parchment and quills in your travel trunk-“ “-you could write Bill and let him know how you’re feeling.” “Best Brothers like to know stuff like feelings.” “Thoughts.” “Written down.” "On parchment." "With quills." “Oi!” Ron’s abnormally large feet thumped up the stairwell. “Which one of us was s’pposed to make sure Ginny writes Bill?” Ginny flew to her regular-sized feet and yanked open her door to find four brothers huddled around her trunk. “Go. Take my trunk, kick it down the stairs if your wands are broken. I’ll meet you at the Leaky after I finish writing the brother who is not Best Brother because no brothers are best.” She slammed the door in their faces, her trunk thumping down the stairs as she sat on the floor to finish her letter. Let’s discuss boundaries. Deceptively casual (totally overbearing) Best Brother has deputized four local spies to micro-manage sister’s existence? Is this how it’s going to be this year? I’m fine, got home fine, will have a fine year. Everyone needs to stop being mental. I’ll write you and Charlie every other week. Am off for an overnight at the Leaky before picking up train tomorrow morning. Never stayed at the Leaky, excited. “Never stayed at the Leaky, excited.” Ginny tried the words on her tongue as if they were an over-sized robe that could disguise the bloated subtext beneath, which went something like: “Harry accidentally blew up his aunt so we get a complimentary family night at the Leaky paid for by the Ministry, but I have no idea how these things are related because nobody tells me anything and they just want Harry to think something-they-aren’t-telling-me is perfectly normal even though seven Weasleys at the Leaky is about as normal as our gnomes donning garters for a delightful summer evening can-can.”

[melkor-did-nothing-wrong]

Hullo!

Just wanted to say that your blog is really cool! I’ve been back on and off in my Tolkien hyperfixation recently (mainly Silm but overall also works), and yours is one of the few that caught my eye, esp with the pinned post :)

Tho, I’m sorry that you seem to be attacked for shipping Angbang “wrong”, that’s just sad

Just because you have a different outlook on things doesn’t give others the right to attack you for it. But, some people apparently don’t have enough empathy and/or sympathy to see that :/

I know it’s so much easier said than done, but try ignoring those people? They will have a problem no matter what you do, the way I see it, so might as well enjoy the thing you do regardless, since it’s not hurting anybody, right?

So… I hope you have a good timezone, and hopefully people will educate themselves on basic kindness and respect soon :)

- Dragon Anon

Been sitting on this one for a few days without posting because I needed to stare at it one on one and think how to best reply to it.

Unfortunately, time did not help as I have nothing wittier or more thought provoking to say to any of your points than I did upon receiving this so I may as well post this now rather than have you waiting.

I could apologize for this blog catching your interest, rather than all the good ones. I could apologize because I produce no stunning art or amazing fics beloved by all and have no large variety of silm ships to offer you. This was supposed to be an Ainur blog more broadly, but hard times directed me to my comfort ship within the silm and I've stuck with posting it to the detriment of all else for... a while. There are so many wonderful silm blogs for you to find and enjoy. With more Ainur and Eldar and dwarves and men. Some of them I wish with all my heart would tag content relating to specific ships or characters so I could filter it more easily and join the rest of the community in enjoying them as well.

While I'm personally exhausted to the point of snapping at the prospect of being harassed over my ship takes, I do need to remember that this is the internet, and someone out there will always use the veil of anonymity to bring others down. And naturally, if there has to be one specific and certain ship within this fandom which gets all the mockery and vitriol for being "the one people should be discouraged from shipping", I suppose it's only natural for it to be the one with the bad people in it, rather than a more beloved ship favored by more people. And if anyone within that "bad" ship is going to get hate, of course the easiest target is some autistic foreigner whose takes are generally bizarre in the eyes of the wider public ("What?! someone who did something BAD is capable of FEELINGS?!?!? and of maintaining a happy relationship?!? how dare you!"). People see any nuance given to villains, any nuance given to villains in a RELATIONSHIP, heck, people see any joy and genuine love attributed to these characters and they just have to pounce.

I just never understood why every other Villain loves Villain ship in any and all fandoms on the planet get more grace and nuance than this one. Silm is largely supposed to be the more "adult" fandom in the legendarium. We have no visual media to popularize it, so it remains in the hands of the older fans who read the book and had to sit down with their thoughts about what was written in it. And yet other fandoms, including ones aimed at children or young teens are more accepting and less judgmental of their peers when it comes to shipping some fictional meanies.

Ignoring them IS difficult. Every time I get a notification about an ask in my inbox or a direct message, of course I want to assume the best. I welcome the prospect of an open conversation with anyone who agrees OR disagrees with me and I want to leave the door open to people who want to change my mind or even their own mind, in good faith. It's just aggravating to see that half of them are simply offensive for the sake of being offensive. Because I'd post them if they didn't have nasty terms in them aimed at real living people. I'd have the conversation. Instead, it's nothing but a demotivation campaign that drains me of my desire to interact with the wider fandom or post my own ideas anywhere. But I suppose you're right. No matter what I do, how hard I try to fit myself to one opinion or another, some people will still never be happy about it. The sooner I make my peace with it, the better. Maybe one day it will be easier to do. Maybe one day I'll get there on my own.

Regardless, thank you for all of this.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 13. Repetitive Carols

Pairing: Turpin x Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: London

A/N: So, let’s leave the magic of Hogwarts behind for a bit and jump over to the biter English winter in London today. I had quite a rough time coming up with a story for this prompt, I don’t know why but I guess after so many days of coming up with new Christmas fics and having written quite a few long ones in the past few days I was a bit tapped out. However, I do think you will enjoy this one even if it’s not until the very end that things turn bright.

And, I would like to add a small note here as well… If you don’t mind…

I hope that these fics offer you something during this cold and harsh December. All around the world people are struggling - hell, I’m sitting with three layers of clothing on, thick socks, slippers, a warm wheat bag under the blanket draped over my legs as the heating is just too expensive - and I know money is tight, for many of us this year with the inflation and sky-rocketing expenses of everything.

So, I hope these fics grant you something to look forward to, something to be excited about, something that offers you a feeling of being connected with others around the world. For we are all connected. We are all in this community together and I wish I could do more, be more, offer more. But I do not have anything but my hard work, creativity and words to offer during these hard times. I’m giving every spare minute I have to RICKMAS, late nights, early mornings, lunch breaks - all of it. And, to see you here - your comments, your reblogs, your likes and the tags you add - warms my heart. It makes me so happy to know that you wish to spend your time reading my words and communicating your thoughts and feelings about it in return too.

Thank you, for warming my heart and being here with me. I am ever so grateful for this little community of ours where we share love, friendship and support. I really wish you all the best and for these hard times to pass ❤

+A/N: I know the gramophone wasn’t invented until 1877 but this is fiction so we are just moving that invention a few years for the sake of this fic - so don’t come for me about that 🙈😂

Tags/TW’s: Kissing, Anger, Guilt, Worry, Lots Of Love, Taking Responsibility.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

You couldn’t help but feel protected and comfortable on his arm. Strolling through London could be dangerous, but not with your dear husband so close by — who would ever dare to bother you as the wife of Judge Turpin with him right there? None.

However, he appeared to have lost some of the initial warmth and joy from when you had first asked him to take a stroll through the buzzing city with market stands on each square, big or small. For nearly two hours you had been walking about with your butler, Mr Stokes, a few steps behind carrying everything your husband had graciously acquired for you. No item was too small and no price was too high when it came to spoiling you.

That had been hard to deal with at first, the guilt of suddenly being presented with all things you had ever wished for and far more than you could ever need. But he had insisted, time and time again, that you deserved it. That he wished to lavish you with gifts and that it brought him joy to provide for you in every manner possible.

However, something was bothering him no. You could feel the annoyance radiate from him in a manner you had not previously experienced. “Angel, perhaps something hot to drink?” you asked, wondering if it could perhaps lighten his mood with something warming. “If you wish,” he said in a dark murmur. “Are you fairing?” you asked quietly and he glanced down at you, raising a brow towards the rim of his black tophat. “You seem, out of sorts, perhaps we should return home?” You continued in less than a heartbeat. “When you are ready to return, we will do so.” “But I—” “Love, I am well aware you adore this time of year, so when you are ready, we shall return.”

You tilted your head and looked at him, nodding after a moment while he smiled in a restrained way — as he usually did when you were out and about where others were present. I still feel as if something is not right with you. Perhaps I should say I’m tired?

The sound of a children's choir reached you that moment when you turned onto a bigger street leading to the main square. Oh, such a lovely sound, you thought to yourself and smiled as the sound grew louder while you walked on. The smell of hot chocolate was in the air, people calling out prices and haggling being done by each stand you passed until you reached the giant tree where a small platform had been placed for the choir to stand on.

“Isn’t it lovely?” you said in a manner that was a question yet also a statement. “Mmh,” Richard murmured in a slight drawl while you both stopped to listen to the children sing. “Mr Stokes, if you please, a pound for them,” you said and your ever-jolly butler scurried forward to place the coin in the bin collecting money for one of the orphanages in London.

You smiled at the children while Richard seemed to stiffen beside you, becoming further annoyed it seemed. You glanced up at your most beloved grump of a husband who wielded far more power in the city than you could truly understand. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes cold and harsh while his pale skin held a slight hint of pink from the biting English winter. Something was most certainly wrong. He never acted in such a manner when you were on his arm unless someone said or did something he took offence at.

“Darling, are you sure you’re—” “Love, stop,” he gritted without looking at you. It stunned you for a moment as he never spoke in such a manner to you. He never withheld his attention from you either.

You felt your shoulders droop as you looked away from him, unable to hide the slight hurt marring your facial features while you looked at the singing children. “I’m tired, Richard,” you said quietly. “Can we return home, please?” “As you wish,” he said in yet another grumpy drawl and wasted no time turning the two of you around to march towards your home not too far away from the square with its prime location. Mr Stokes were hot on your heels, balancing the packages and basket he had been clever enough to bring for smaller items, most likely Mrs Marsh’s idea. She’s such a good housekeeper, and certainly thinks ahead each and every time. I wonder if she’s had time to bake those Christmas cookies she spoke of this morning?

The thought of those sweet treats made you smile for a moment as the two of you turned the corner and your home became visible. Richard was still stiff and cold beside you thought so that smile quickly vanished while your hand tensed around his arm.

Mr Stokes opened the door for the two of you and stepped aside. The house was beautifully decorated, thanks to you and the staff, and it felt wonderful to be back in the warmth. Only, you still felt cold when your husband behaved so strangely with you. He had never behaved in such a manner before.

“I shall be in my office,” he announced while rather quickly switching his boots and taking off his outer layers before you had barely had time to unbutton your winter cloaks two buttons at your upper chest. “Would you like some—” “No.”

You blanched at his interruption, stunned at the harsh tone of his voice. He stalked off before you even had a chance to ask what was wrong. “Are you alright, my Lady?” Mr Stokes asked which brought you out of the stunned state. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into him,” you confessed while removing your outer layers and switching your shoes for a more comfortable pair of slippers lined with fur to keep the chill of the floors away from your feet.

“Ah, my Lady,” Mrs Marsh said as she came from the hallway leading to the kitchen, “you have returned. And at just the right time,” she continued with a broad smile making her wrinkly face look happy. “Oh? Time for what?” you asked, feeling a bit warmer under her smile. “The first batch has just come out of the oven, piping hot, as you like them, my Lady,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes and you beamed at her. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way!”

You groaned and hummed at the delicious treat as you bit off the head of a reindeer-shaped one. “So good, you are a fabulous baker, Elenora!” you called out to the housekeeper. It wasn’t quite proper to call the staff by their given names, and you had agreed to only do so in the house when no guests were present. “Thank you, my Lady,” she smiled as she pulled out the second batch from the wood-heated oven. “Can we turn on some music?” you asked the butler who beamed at you and instantly turned to start the gramophone already loaded with a disc of Christmas music.

The very same song you had heard all over town during the stroll played, filling the house with music while the smell of Christmas cookies wafted through the air. You had nearly forgotten about your husband's bad mood while you danced around the kitchen to a sweet carol when thumping, rushed steps grew louder.

“TURN THAT INFERNAL RACKET OFF!” Richard shouted in fury from the doorway. His dark baritone voice cut through the air like thunder overhead, making the air vibrate and your body stiffen. His cold eyes glared at the gramophone before he stalked over in long strides and yanked the disc out of it, throwing it on the floor.

Your breathing turned ragged as you backed away from the man you didn’t recognise. Never had he raised his voice in your presence. Never had he glared at you with such anger. Never had he acted with such fury in the proximity of you.

The joy seeped out of you instantly, the warmth in the previously happy kitchen stolen in a mere second. Mr Stokes and Mrs Marsh back to the stoic staff members you had met when you first came to London nearly a year ago. Their heads bowed, their bodies stiff under Richard’s glare for those three seconds he stood in the kitchen.

Your bum hit the back of the long table for preparations, your chest felt tight and for the first time a sliver of fear shot through you because of him. He looked so, enraged. Dangerous. And then he turned on his heel and rushed out of the kitchen with gritted teeth and clenched fists. “What in the world,” you asked the universe as you looked after the man you had never thought capable of looking at you with such fury in his eyes.

Your hands shook as you looked towards the disc on the floor, having skidded along the stone it was most likely ruined. Tears began to rim your eyes. “Now, my Lady, you’re alright,” Mrs Marsh said quietly as she stepped around the table while you tried to speak — opening and closing your mouth without a single noise leaving you. “You’re alright,” she said once more as she took one of your trembling hands in her warm and slender one, the other she stroked your back soothingly as your breaths turned into short pants the moment tears began to roll down your cheeks.

You looked at her. “He’s never-, he’s never-,” you began to say but your weak voice never turned into a sentence. “I know, it’s alright,” she said gently. “His Lordship struggles with Christmas. It is not your fault, my Lady,” she comforted but it didn’t feel right. He had been happy when you decorated the house, he’d been happy when you put up the tree, he’d been happy when you presented him with the stocking you had ordered for the fireplace with your name and his stitched on them.

“Now, let’s get you a warm bath, my Lady. You are shivering.” You nodded at her words, knowing full well both of you knew better. You weren’t shivering. You were trembling. Yet you allowed her to lead you to the bathroom two floors up. Allowed her to sit you down on the chair in the room while she filled the tub with steaming water. Allowed her to help undress you and assist you as you stepped into the water a moment later. All while your mind ran rampant, wondering what had happened to your husband and the happy mood he had been in for the past couple of days when Christmas had been all around him.

“I shall start supper, I’ll return in a moment to help you get dressed, my Lady.” “Thank you,” you whispered as you sank down further into the warm water, allowing it to reach your chin and cover you completely with warmth. It helped very little though.

After a while, you began to hum on one of the carols you’d heard over and over during the day, one of your favourites. The bath soothed you slowly but your heart hurt at the way your husband had acted, at how he had frightened you for the first time ever.

A knock came from the door and you stopped humming. “You can just come in, Elenora!” you called, but as it opened it wasn’t her. Richard stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped and the harshness gone from his face. “Richard,” you said as he stepped inside the humid room and closed the door behind him. He looked at a loss. Much unlike your commanding and decisive husband, the man you loved so dearly despite all his faults and flaws.

“Love, I…” His words died out quietly while he avoided looking straight at you. It hurt seeing him look so lost, so uncertain. But the furious manner he had acted in a while ago still lingered in your head.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward until he sank down on one knee by the edge of the tub. “Love, I am sorry. I did not mean to behave in such a manner,” he confessed quietly, his baritone voice barely above a murmur while he kept avoiding your gaze, as if he felt ashamed of himself. “You frightened me,” you said. “Why did you act in such a way? You’ve never-, with me you have never behaved like that,” you continued and he sighed deeply. “I apologize,” he pushed out, worry evident in his dark voice. “Tell me why instead,” you prompted while reaching your soaked arm out only to grasp his hand with yours despite the water dripping from your skin.

He squeezed your hand before lifting it to his thin lips, placing the softest of kisses edged by some harsh resolve. “The carols,” he said and looked up at you, finding your eyes for the first time. “The carols?” “Yes,” he murmured, “the damned, repetitive carols.” “You don’t like music? But you play so beautifully, Richard.” “No, love, it’s not music. Merely, carols,” he gritted while looking down at your hand in his. “You don’t like carols?” “Every year, over and over, the same carols. The same tunes, the same words, the same notions of joy to the wretched world we inhabit. Over and over. Every damned year.”

It made sense. Your husband wasn’t fond of traditions, he wasn’t fond of repeating things or having to repeat himself beyond his daily breakfast habits or listening to anyone communicating something he had heard before. He abhorred words spoken more than once when they did not offer new meaning or a truth of some sort. Partly due to your occupation I presume. And he certainly wasn't fond of the world, which he'd confessed to being a gloomy and dreary place before he met you. Meaning every Christmas the world sang about joy he had been deep into the darkest depths of it. 

“I didn’t know, angel,” you said, trying your hardest to see it from his perspective when you yourself loved the comfort and security of repetitive things, traditions, habits and words spoken over and over in reassurance. In love with Christmas and the warmth it had always offered you when the world turned kinder.

“I won’t play carols at home again. I’m sorry, Richard. I truly didn’t know,” you said gently and he looked at you once more, his features softer and less creased as his worry melted away under your words. “You are blameless, love,” he said. “I should not have allowed myself to get to that point. You asked me if I was fairing and I avoided admitting the truth, and then you took some of the annoyance, the anger I had pent up. I am the only one to blame, not you. And I truly am so sorry, love.” You smiled at him, vowing to keep your home a carol-free place in the future for his sake.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Richard. For taking responsibility for your emotions and actions,” you said and leaned towards him. He met you halfway, your lips touching and instantly your heart fluttered. “You are the most wondrous woman, my love. I am most sorry, and I love you most dearly. Your patience with me—” he sighed deeply and pecked your lips once more “—is beyond what I deserve.” “Oh, Richard, you deserve all the patience when you work so hard to be open with me. I know you struggle with it, I know it’s hard for you. But one repetitive thing you can always count on is my love for you,” you said with a small giggle at his half-smile that softened everything about him. “That is something I do not mind being repetitive, as I do not mind hearing you speak the words over and over, every day, my sweet.”

“I love you,” you said, just to tease him. He chuckled and looked at you with wonder in his eyes. “I love you as well.” “And no more carols in this house,” you laughed out as you tugged on his hand to get him even closer, your noses touching. “Except when you sing them, love… Anything spoken in your voice is beautiful music to my ears.” “Richard…” you breathed out, tears in your eyes at his lovely words spoken with ringing truth.

Then, he kissed you. He drew you in without caring about his clothes getting wet while he held you tightly with only the rim of the tub as a barrier between the two of you.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: I hope this tugged on your heartstrings a bit darling 💚 Sometimes people own up to their mistakes, their wrongs, and I find it beautiful to have the courage and strength to do so. And, when it happens, I find it just as beautiful when the wronged offer forgiveness and understanding when the regret is honest. Forgiveness takes strength - both to ask for it and gift it - but I find more often than not that when it is done genuinely, things tend to sort themselves out one way or another.

Taglist: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @leah1243 @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus  @reinekefoxart @reiketsunomizunomegami @lokisbjchn

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

[trinidaddy888]

Strictly Professional (Chapter 2)

After living with your family for most of your life, you finally get to move out and find an office job in Devildom. The cost of living is low and the income is high and you make Devildom your new home. But no one is nice to you and ignores you. Except for the white-haired, tall demon that works a few floors above you. You want to get to know him. You even get a crush on him. You want to ask him out but is that a good idea?

Characters: Mammon, Reader, MC

Ship: Reader x Mammon

Genre: Romance

Tags: Office romance, Office AU, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Reader character is not the MC who went to RAD but is a post RAD MC, Mammon has changed after going to RAD, I do not know if there will be smut in this so I’m tagging it T for now, fluff, gender-neutral reader, race-neutral reader.

A/n:  I'm not sure how many chapters there will be but this is a multi-chapter fic. I thought of this while working at my office job and wished I had a coworker like Mammon to crush on. I think he'd make a good office worker because then he'd find a reason to try to work towards something. Check it out on AO3.

Masterlist

You spend that night dreaming of the kind-hearted demon who gave you his umbrella. You wonder if you would see him again. If you do, you promise yourself that you would have a real conversation with him. You are not sure what Devildom social norms are but he seems friendly enough to oblige in conversation with you.

You wonder if your slight obsession with seeing him again is because of how lonely you feel in Devildom. You have no friends or family here. Just coworkers that find you incompetent and annoying. None of who you see yourself befriending in the future. You still video call your friends from the Human World but it was not enough to fill the aching void in your heart.

It could be all of that or… that you just wanted a relationship. Either way, you still need to make friends. Maybe you could start with the silver-haired demon. The insanely hot silver-haired demon.

Your commute to work this time is easy. No rushing. You even get to pick up some coffee from the closest cafe to work. You do not see the hot demon that morning but you hold out hope that you would see him again.

A week passes without seeing him until you are running late to work, again. And there he is in the first-floor lobby, waiting for the elevator. He’s sniffling. Maybe from a cold? You hope it wasn’t because he gave you his umbrella last week.

Much to your dismay, there are more people there, also waiting for the elevator. A woman says good morning to the hot demon, without mentioning his name and he replies with a smile and a “Good morning.” Would it be weird if you said that to him?

Once you all get onto the elevator, a conversation between the demon and the woman arises. They talk about work. You guess that they work in the same department. They make an inside joke about “strategy” and then you are completely lost on what they might do in their department.

You get off at your floor and make a note that you might see him more, the later you are. Maybe the next time you see him, you will get to ask for his name. It’s something so simple to ask but you do not know what asking for it would signal to him.

You go through the motions of the day, this day being better than you expected. And by the time you leave for the elevator, you feel a tad bit less burnt out than you usually would. You are happy to go home and enjoy streaming this week’s show of choice. You make it all the way to the train station and realized that you left your wallet back in the office.

Shit.

You might have left it on the desk when you took it out to buy a snack from the vending machine. You make it back to the office in a short, sweaty sprint and take the elevator to your department. You collect your wallet that’s lying on your desk, thankful that no one snatched it. You make your way to the elevator and press the call button.

And then, as if the heavens were blessing you twice, you see the demon again when the elevator arrives. He’s loosening his tie and sighing. He looks exhausted. He makes eye contact with you and smiles.

“Yo,” he says casually. Usually, in an office setting a hello would be more professional but you feel a bit special that he’s being casual with you.

With his tie loosened, you notice his long, elegant neck and the prominence of his Adam’s apple.

“Hi,” you say, boarding the elevator.

“You were working late today, too?” he asks.

“Not really,” you respond, “I just forgot my wallet. I made it all the way to the train station before I noticed I didn’t have it.”

“Damn.”

“What about you?”

“I had to put in some overtime to make the deadline for this project.”

“Damn,” you say, “That sucks. I hope it’s all worth it in the end.”

He grins. “It will be. I’ll be making extra bank by the next paycheck.”

“What do you do?” you ask. Finally, you get to ask. You’ve been making guesses all week as to what he did for a living.

“Financial management,” he says.

You think to ask what exactly that is but you feel you would look dumb if you did.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Uh… customer service. Not as cool, I guess.”

“No, that’s pretty cool. You can deal with total assholes with ease. Couldn’t be me.”

You laugh, “I wish I did. It stresses me out, still.”

The elevator reaches the lobby. You both make your way to the door.

“Well,” he said, “ Nice chattin’ with ya, but I gotta make my way to the train station.”

“Me, too.”

You both realize that you are walking in the same direction. This is interesting.

“I guess, we’re walkin’ together,” he says

You try to hide your grin. You’re getting to spend more time with him than you ever expected.

“What do you usually do when you get home?” you ask him.

“Usually, I play video games and then sleep. But tonight, I’m just goin’ straight to sleep. You?”

You tell him about your goal to finish bingeing the show you’ve been watching by the end of the week and he tells you about the latest video game he’s been playing. This continues until you both arrive at the station.

“What line are ya taking?” he asks.

“I’m taking the Belladonna line to out of town.”

“Ah, I’m taking the 6 line.”

You start walking to your respective tracks and then you stop.

“Hey!” you call out, “What’s your name?”

He turns around to look at you. He smiles.

“Mammon.”

You tell him yours.

He repeats your name, as if testing out how it felt to say it.

“Thanks for walkin’ me to the station,” he says

He heads off to his track and you stare at him until he is out of sight. You miss your train and have to wait the next half an hour for another one, but you do not mind it. When you slumber, you dream of Mammon again.

[sapphicsandscience]

20 questions for fic writers

Not going to lie - no one tagged me in this lol - but I am doing it .

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

47.

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

322,829.

Crazy number for me. I know some have literal millions but I can’t believe I’ve written that much in like the last two or three years??

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Star Trek (TNG/VOY/PIC & some DS9). ER and Criminal Minds more so in the past. But ER I’ll never leave you.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Aster

- my labor of love - no pun intended.

- i WILL finish her (manifest it pls).

A Flame In Your Heart

- going to be honest writing post s3 isn’t something that interests me the most.

- however, this is a cute story and i wish i had some more ideas for it as i feel like i lack direction.

I Should Have Moved Moons For You

- ahhh.

- a fic I really should have pre-written before posting but i do have fun with it.

- i am half confident she will be finished in time but it stresses me out thinking about it and my outline lol.

- but like most of my WIPs the chapters are all outlined and i do have semi-concrete endings for them or at least know the main plot.

A Lot Of Things Can Happen In Two Months

- like the concept but i think i could have written it better ?

- feels a bit messy but also there are a lot of feelings in it.

- but happy i got it finished !! and i am proud of it overall.

Eighteen Minutes

- ngl I forgot I wrote this lol.

- the only one-shot here.

- def benefited kudos wise from being posted after the second episode aired.

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

Yes! And I love to give comments regardless if I get a reply from the author. But personally, I like to reply back as the commenter has taken their time to do this. And you can have some really lovely and funny interactions in the comments haha … I just love talking about fic.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well…it would have to be either of the ones I killed Beverly in - Last contact or Too Late.

Not sure which is more angstiest?

However, as for a multichap ending that ends the most angstiest and wasn’t written to be a character-death-fic - maybe - A Lot Of Things Can Happen In Two Months. Which sucks cause it’s pretty much canon compliant LOL.

Hmm now I am tempted to write another multichap with a less than happy ending…

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

Most of my fics that have an ‘ending’ are WIPS that I haven’t finished yet lol.

But maybe Our Turn - it’s just Beverly and Jean-Luc enjoying everything wonderful in their lives <3

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not really - I doubt anyone cares enough lol. But I am ‘fortunate’ that some of the more ‘controversial’ ships I may write have had writers come before me and take the brunt of any crap :(( but they’ve created a lovely sandbox for the rest of us to play in <3

9. Do you write smut?

Not often but I have yeah…and *deep breaths* … I have no idea if I am even acceptable at it LOL. It’s definitely something I sometimes want to add to my fics and lately I’ve been giving in a little.

Okay, someone tell me if I am terrible and I will stop.

10. Do you write crossovers?

It’s not my go to thing but yes I have. Including the fusion ER/TNG fic that three people have probably read (but three people I love).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but that would be cool as!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With my lovely and supportive ER fic buddies ❤️

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Not sure how best to answer this. It is very dependant on my current hyperfixation and I am one of those sapphics that very much is into the woman more than the man in terms of interest in f/m ships…

However, at the moment it’s Beverly/Jean-Luc and I can say I am definitely more invested and interested in Jean-Luc’s character than I have been with other men in f/m ships. So that’s another reason.

But I love to read/write Crusher/Janeway ❤️ and LOVE those characters. Kerry/Sandy too is special to me.

Can honestly say apart from helping me give Emily Prentiss a baby in my fics I never cared that much for any of her ships I wrote (sorry 😭).

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably won't?

Probably better I don’t answer this. It stresses me out cause I want them all to be done ����

I’ll answer with a WIP I never posted which was a dystopian AU with Kerry and Sandy. Field medicine, babies (it’s me so ofc) and friends trying to survive together.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm - I think I can come up with some good ideas. I can be good at description and introspection … probably more than dialogue.

And I am very strong in the art of giving Beverly Crusher lots of babies. And also making her go through angsty stuff. But I make up for that with the babies I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long intricate plots ? I would love to be better as balancing many themes and plot points in one story. I struggle with dialogue sometimes as well.

Also I am very word count preoccupied at times which is a hindrance as a writer. I sometimes really struggle to get anything out in a session then can overcompensate later by writing too much? But honestly either way I just let myself go with the flow these days otherwise I stress about it.

Yeah and I probably need to edit better.

And smut.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Is this controversial?? I don’t have any issue with it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

(redacted)

20. Favourite fic you've written?

These are both not what I would consider my best work (idk what that even is) but probably Gone (Ice)fishing or It Takes A Village.

Both were written as gifts and out of my comfort zone (for different reasons) but I am really proud of them both.

But I also love some of my Kerry/Sandy one-shots I did here on this blog. And Aster is definitely a personal accomplishment in terms of length as a writer. I love it too ❤️.

Oh, also - To Build A Home - cause it’s tragic & angsty but also BABY🥹 - it’s just my brand.

—————————————————

Okay -I’ll shut up now.

Anyone feel free to do this and tag me.

[roccinan]

2022 Fic Review

(Tagged by @natures-marvel thanks for tagging!)

End of the Year Fic Review 2022

1. What is your AO3 account?

Rocinan

2. How many words did you write total in 2022?

131,168

3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

6 fics total (1 of which was an art piece)

1 oneshot and 3 multichaptered (2 still unfinished)

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

Longest : Birdcage at 45,596 words

Shortest : Café for Your Trouble with 0 words LOL, or  Over the Hills and Far Away at 1279 words

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

Most popular:  Grand Hotel, A Tale of Love and Intrigue

Least popular:  Over the Hills and Far Away

6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

Hmm. They all sort of performed how I expected, as in I was pleasantly surprised to get more than 10 kudos for anything XD Maybe chapter 2 of The Contract? Not sure if people like it less than ch. 1. But in terms of the fics themselves, Over the Hills and Far Away already received more hits than I ever imagined lol but I guess I thought it’d earn at least 10 kudos. 

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

Grand Hotel, hands down. 

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?

This is a hard one, but probably Birdcage! Because I actually managed to finish it in 2022 asdfasdf Also it gave me the chance to write some extreme Andres whump, so there’s that!

9. What was your favourite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

I can’t settle for any one fic, so here’s some that I personally enjoyed the most and had the time to read in 2022! Most of them lean dark, so with the exception of “Upon paper wings” and “The way to a man’s heart,” do mind the warnings and tags!

Did I ever leave the lights on (could you ever find your way back home?) by @nharidy A crack concept (berlermo switch souls out of the blue) on the surface, but a story that’s so much more than that. Legit one of the most selfless, genuine depictions of Martin’s love (and that shred of nobility under all the asshole in his blood) I’ve ever read, and I still get emotional thinking about this story.

something borrowed, something -- by anonymous; I swear I’m not biased but I must say, I was insanely lucky to have such a talented writer take a post of a scenario I made and publish a full story based on it. Like WHEN will that ever happen again?? It’s like I threw a coin down a wishing well and it happened! This is a fantastically written (but Very dark!) character study, and even though there’s no upfront gore or violence, the story pulls no punches with the premise: injured, amnesiac Andres thinks Gandia is Martin and suffers all sorts of sexual, domestic, and psychological abuse as a result. 

Those Violent Delights by @aceraphaelsantiagos Ongoing but well worth the wait! It’s an ongoing berlermo thriller told out of chronological order and watching the puzzle unfold is like climbing deeper into the spider web. AU but amazing characterization, and with my favorite dynamic: Dom/Dom!

{ Upon paper wings. } by @moneyheist-fam Their first berlermo fic! And a truly wonderful one at that. One of the rare completed AUgust fics LOL. There’s a warm fairy tale like quality to this, and it’s just a very sweet and beautifully written tale about soulmates.

A Lamb for Our Love  by @the--sound--of--rain Ongoing, but definitely a story that stuck with me since the first time I read it! Another “Gandia abducts Andres and-” story, but the fic is about what happens after Andres comes back to Martin. A rocky, angsty piece with heartbreaking characterization and a look at what would happen if these two made the worst possible choices thinking that’s what’s best. The first chapter is definitely worth the read, and I’m sure the second will be equally good, if not better!

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach by @alfredo-kesmann Why yes, this is my gift haha, but alfredo-kesmann went above and beyond a very simple prompt and gave us a story that’s insanely funny and endearing all at the same time. Truly one of my favorite fics of 2022 and I rec it to everyone, especially everyone whoever thought “hmm what if Andres being a good cook is just headcanon and he really sucks at it?? would Martin lie and pretend he’s good?” Answer: yes Martin would

Vinum Stygis by @signorin-anarchia Another ongoing fic! But very underrated and promising. A period gothic romance with all the creepy and dark elements you’d want from the genre. It’s a creative spin on Crimson Peak that somehow manages to make the premise work for berlermo, and definitely deserves more attention. Wonderful atmosphere and toxic assholes all around~

Last but not least, The Fatal Drive by NaturesMarvel! Kal’s longest fic yet, and my favorite 2022 hit from her. It’s filled with lots of twists and turns (and a plot that’s blockbuster material for sure!), including a few that actually fooled me haha Also features badass Martin, a satisfying amount of hurt!Andres (thank you for your service Kal), and cameos from just about everyone. This is an AU where everything starts with Andres receiving a pen drive (saying anything else would be a spoiler!)