#this is not what i meant when I wanted to write ficlet for this ship

[merganalogy]

Part 4

Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

This one takes place in the 60s (Part 1)

Her hesitation was palpable. The timbre of her voice pulled him from his reverie, evoking memories long buried within his mind’s depths. He shook his head, dispelling the ghosts of the past. Now was not the time for nostalgia.

Yet, he found it impossible not to study her. She remained unchanged, as beautiful as that fateful night forty years ago. But beneath the surface, darkness lingered—a truth he should have recognised. After all, Morgana excelled at hiding it.

“Merlin?” Her call drew him fully into the room. His day had already been wretched; it was about to worsen.

“I must insist you vacate the premises,” he said, his anger simmering since he learned of her presence. “Immediately.”

Morgana tilted her head, her green eyes searching for something no longer present. Still, she smiled, as if he jested. “You’re mistaken, Merlin. My stay at this hotel has been paid in full.”

“I care not,” Merlin snapped. “This is my establishment, and I determine who stays. You, Morgana LeFay, are unwelcome here.”

“It’s Pendragon,” she corrected, surprise flickering in her eyes. She hid it well, his newfound aggressiveness marked a shift in their dynamic—one that she concealed adeptly.

But he knew better than to believe her innocent act, years of relentless pursuit had led him to the spell Morgana had employed for her salvation. Its discovery shattered his very existence. No longer the smitten servant, he now faced her as Emrys, resolute in keeping her at bay.

“I confess, Merlin, I harbored suspicions over the years. This land never remains barren. Castles, palaces and mansions torn down and rebuilt over the years where Camelot's castle once stood. And now, a hotel. An peculiar choice.”

“For Arthur,” he replied curtly.

She hummed, unimpressed but that, "Did you have to name it Camelot?" Her disapproval evident, she twirled her hand in the air, gesturing around her. " It lacks creativity,” she declared.

His patience waning, Merlin asserted, “I will not ask again, Morgana—”

She cut him off. “Then don’t.”

Ignoring her, he continued, “You shall collect your belongings and leave at once.”

Morgana shook her head. “What’s the matter, Merlin? If this is about that night—” then realisation dawned on her, “I see. I am not allowed in Camelot.” The irony, the symbolism. “It was once my home too, you know.”

“Not anymore,” Merlin replied. “It stopped being your home a long ago.”

“Did you decide that?” she challenged.

“Yes.”

“I won’t leave,” she held her head high, arms crossed like a defiant child.

Merlin’s resolve remained unyielding. “Then I’ll have you removed.”

“I won’t be threatened.”

He glared, closing the distance. “Without magic, how will you retaliate?”

Morgana’s humourless laugh echoed around them. “Millenniums later, and you’re still stuck in the past? You started all this, Merlin, remember? If only you’d trusted me, if only you had explained before handing me that waterskin, we would not be here."

I blame myself for what you've become.

“I, too, once believed that. Yet, as the Millenniums passed, contemplation became my companion. I bear no responsibility for the path you treaded or the malevolence you wielded. You got what you deserved."

From this list, send me a prompt if you’d like.

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese Ficlet for y'all

I'm planning to take a break from AO3 for a little while, because I wrote 4 fics in 4 days and my head hurts. (I don't usually write anything this fast, but when I'm truly inspired, I'm a man on a fucking mission lol)

Here's a relatively short fic for you guys to enjoy while I'm gone. It's wholesome (for once). Hope whoever reads it enjoys it, whether they like this ship or not

Post-canon (technically), Burning Spice is no longer a threat to anyone, he's just an asshole who's down bad

"Hm? Golden Cheese eyed the envelope being handed to her critically. "And this is...?"

"For you," Burning Spice said. "It is a romantic holiday today, is it not? Is this not what couples do for one another in celebration?" "I don't recall us ever being a couple, Mr. Burning Spice," Golden Cheese muttered, crossing her arms and giving him a look. "So I'm not sure what possesses you to want to celebrate a day not meant for either of us." "You possess me, my little thief. That is all the motivation I need." He returned her look of annoyance with a look of cool confidence, giving her a flirtatious smile. "Regardless, why do you shun a heartfelt gift? Are gestures of admiration such as these not what you like to receive from others?"

"They are," Golden Cheese said, "But I can't imagine whatever you've brought to me being 'heartfelt'. In fact, I didn't realize that word even existed within your vocabulary before today." He chuckled at her little jab, much to her own furthered annoyance. "You wound me, pretty bird. Why do you judge me for my appearance? Why don't you read this and see for yourself what I am capable of?" "It's hardly your appearance. I've encountered far more brutish beings than you who turned out to be bigger sweethearts than Pure Vanilla." She sighed. "But... fine, very well. If you went to this trouble, I suppose I can entertain it this once." "Yes... please do, my little thief." His smile grew bigger. "Entertain me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did nothing to challenge him further and took the envelope into her hands. It was surprisingly fancy; adorned with intricate little patterns that she recognized to be commonplace in Wild Spice artistry. When she opened it, the smell of spice reached her nose, causing her to sneeze. Burning Spice chuckled again, and she shot him a disapproving glare. He gave her a look of endearment, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. He did not speak, but he did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant by that face, for he'd given it to her before, along with the words meant to describe it. You're so adorable when you sneeze.

Not wanting to encourage this sentiment any further, she turned her attention back to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. A pale reddish-orange, scented with nutmeg and tumeric. The words were written with black ink - in quite good handwriting, much to her surprise. A very quick skim told her it was a poem. She brought her eyes back to the very top and started again, reading it diligently, word for word:

"You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan. You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune. Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, 'I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face'. Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What is this war of thee and me? Give o'er the wanton strife. You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life."

Golden Cheese's mouth hung slightly agape by the time she finished, her face hot and cheeks flushed so red that she was certain it could be seen even all the way back home. "Burning Spice," she began. "I..." "You...?" he asked back, clearly enjoying the look on her face far too much. She stood silent for a moment longer before she collected herself. "It's... this is lovely," she said. "I don't know what to say. I... I truly did not think you were ever capable of something like this." "That's alright, pretty bird. Your eyes say enough." Oh, if only that blasted smile of his would fall away already. It was making her feel even stranger. "You and your people aren't the only ones with silver tongues in your mouths."

She hadn't been insulting the Wild Spices earlier, she had been insulting him - but even so, she had no choice but to admit her folly. "Fair enough," she said. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. If I may gift you with something in return, it's with me saying that this would fit in among the works of my own kingdom's finest poets." "Would it, now? Such high praise, coming from you," Burning Spice purred. "But I'm afraid I'd rather you gift me with something else." "Oh?" She tilted her head at him. "And what would that be?" He answered her by coming closer, closer, until they stood toe to toe and his face was not so far from hers anymore. "I think you know," he said. He cupped her chin. "Or shall you let a veil divide us any longer?"

At this, Golden Cheese said nothing. She only let him tilt her head up gently, and her eyes flutter shut, as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Burning Spice kissed her sweetly, tenderly - so unlike what she expected of him, such a feeling and taste she never thought she'd find within spice like his. He licked at her lips, soft but still forceful enough to be noticed, politely asking for entry - and she obliged him, parting her lips and sighing into their kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. She felt a hand touch hers, rough fingers ghost against her skin, and she obliged him again, taking his hand into her own and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, he lingered there for a little while longer, their now half-lidded eyes locked and foreheads touching. The fire that always burned so bright in his eyes was now brought down to a smolder, reminding her more of the warmth of a fireplace than a scorching inferno. She could still feel his breath, taste it: hot and spicy, a shock to her senses. But... it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, actually. ...But he didn't need to know that. She'd fed his ego enough for one day.

"My little golden thief," he purred. "I thank you. Your gift is as lovely as mine." "...You're welcome," she murmured. "But... don't expect any more like it." "I won't," he said, that familiar sharp-toothed smile creeping back across his face, "Just the same as you expected me to give you something crude and mediocre." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, both at his words and the little jab hidden behind them. She opened her mouth to retort - but he cut her off before she could by kissing her again. Lightning fast, but still hot and rough, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, that godforsaken grin came back in full force, stretching from ear to ear. "See?" he asked playfully. She chose not to respond this time, instead only huffing at him. Such audacity need not be dignified in such a manner. (And it wasn't because she had no real rebuttal to give him. Really. Honest.)

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go and stepping back again, giving her back her personal space. "Well, then," he said. "I shall give you one last gift by allowing you to enjoy the rest of this day on your own terms." "How kind of you, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Once again, you surprise me with your words and actions." "Golden Cheese..." He turned his back and peeked at her from over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright once again. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." With that said, he turned and began walking away. She watched him leave with her arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of his head as he left. Finally, she was free. No more of his nonsense; she can bask in light and peace again.

And yet, his parting words still rang in her ears. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." Just where did he get this brazenness from? Wherever he cultivated it, she wanted the earth salted and burned. After everything that's happened, after her granting him a goddess's mercy by allowing him to continue existing in her life after all was said and done, and he repays her with this never-ending foolishness? Well, she could commend his stubbornness, if nothing else. But this time was a step too far. This was the first Valentine's Day gift she's ever received from him, and it shall be the last. Next time, she will turn him away without remorse. Won't she?

She turned her eyes back to the paper in her hand. To the beautiful envelope that had housed it. To the poem inscribed on the page, that serenaded her without making a single sound. Golden Cheese, against her own better judgment, brought the poem back closer to her face and read it a second time. When she finished, she tucked it back into the envelope - carefully, so it wouldn't tear. And then she sighed. ...No. No, she won't.

---------------------------------------

The poem here is "Humayun to Zobeida" from the poetry collection "The Golden Threshold" (bet you know why I chose a poem from there lol), all written by Indian poet Sarojini Naidu. Please check it out if/when you can, her works are lovely and you can read them for free online (also a lot of the poems give me BurningCheese feels, especially "To the God of Pain")

Y'all let me know if you enjoyed this, I thought of a sequel and I'll write and post it if you want

[sinisterexaggerator]

Fair Recompense

Tech x Gen! Reader

Warnings: None. Small bit of fluff and a kiss.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways, however this one, along with Wrecker, deviated a little bit from that path. In this case, the story is left open-ended.

Crosshair || Echo || Hunter || Wrecker

---

Luck was your business, born into a family who owned a bit of property on Ord Mantell. While most had to search out creative ways to eke a living, you had it made.

As the proud owner of a spacious hangar, it meant you did not have to want for much. Credits were earned not by hard work, but by allowing patrons to dock their starships; there were never enough empty bays to go around.

Still, you were fair; you did not make it a habit to overcharge. Not only that, but you offered droids, specialized equipment, and your mechanical expertise when needed to those who could use a helping hand to make repairs.

It was here that one particular man caught your eye. While his companions found better things to do, this clone remained.  Besides being one of several million replicas of a long-dead bounty hunter, he looked familiar to you. You vaguely recalled witnessing his chiseled mug somewhere on the HoloNet; he was plagued by notoriety for a Riot Race he had won back on Serolonis, yet you failed to mention it.

Tech was his name; he did not pay you any mind as you watched him work from day-to-day. You were careful not to get too close, hoping that he would not take notice of your studious appraisal – at least at first.

Then, you found it was hard to capture his attention, even if you desired to strike up a conversation. So caught up in his own affairs, he barely seemed to register your presence except when rent was coming due.

You asked about his travels, and what he liked to do for fun. You offered him fresh Jawa Juice, and even tried to inquire about his ship.

Answers were scant, his patience sparse when it came to what he perhaps thought was frivolous small talk that served no purpose, or so it seemed. You had become so enthralled with him that your heart felt heavy in your chest with each rejection, even if it was only something you yourself perceived.  

Determination took hold as you decided to attempt a different tactic, hearing that he would soon take off on another mission for Ciddarin Scaleback. Word traveled fast in these parts, and rumors had begun to circulate; Tech was wanted by the Empire, but as far as you were concerned, his secret was safe with you.

“Tech?” you asked, more so to alert him to your approach. He turned; he was undeniably handsome, no matter that his gorgeous brown eyes rarely lifted from off his datapad.

“Yes, what is it?” he questioned offhand, fiddling with some unknown sequence of code that was reflected within the transparisteel lenses of his round goggles.

“I hear you are heading out tomorrow,” you remarked, twisting your foot against the flattop of your hangar; you kept your hands behind your back on purpose.

“Do not worry, I shall settle our bill before we vacate the premises,” he reassured you dryly. He did not give you a second thought, or even a second glance.

“I’m not worried,” you shyly stated, admiring the distinctive features of his face. “I want to give you something,” you timidly informed him.

Tech’s forefinger pressed against the bridge of his eyewear, pushing it snug against his nose. Finally, he looked at you, amber-colored eyes even more beautiful up close, or as close as you dared.

“I do not understand,” he replied, his tone neither harsh nor excited. It was an honest declaration on his end; suddenly your palms were sweating, your hold loosening on the item stowed away just out of sight.

Tech arched a brow, taking note of the minor change in your appearance with muted curiosity, yet he could not keep from adding his two credits. “You appear to be ‘under the weather,’” he said laconically, Tech’s tone changing to emphasize the usage of this specific idiom. “Perhaps you could do with some rest.”

“I’m— I’m fine, really, I—” You bit your lip, gazing at him as if there was a gulf the size of Yavin Prime between you; you felt like you might cry, however asinine the notion. “I brought you a laser-caliper, since you keep having to borrow mine,” you whispered.

“Why?” he asked; it was a sincere question, Tech unsure how he had earned such a gift when he had done nothing to warrant this show of kindness.

You brought the small tool out from behind your back, fiddling with it in your hands. You hoped your answer would be good enough to satisfy him. “Because— because you need one of your own,” you humbly offered.

“And what do you want in exchange?” The query baffled you; you had not thought that far ahead. Should you want something? All you had wished to do was make his life a little easier.

You glanced about, anxious, and suddenly unsure. Was this somehow too forward? Was it obvious you had grown to enjoy his company, however short he was with you? Were you making a fool out of yourself?

“To see your eyes,” you blurted out. The man paused any movement, his attractive countenance, as always, an unreadable mask of what you assumed to be near-cold indifference.

“I beg your-?”

“-Please,” you interrupted, your voice laced with desperation. The word had exited too quickly from your lips; you felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry—” you corrected, not knowing which way to turn, which way to walk in order to rid yourself of this overtly embarrassing predicament.

“The recompense you have requested seems fair,” Tech asserted plainly.

You mildly gasped, a small intake of breath that caught in your throat. The tall, handsome clone strode forward, holding out his hand to take the laser-caliper.

“And a kiss,” you added, too brazen for your own good; you presumed you had pushed your luck too far. Still, you waited, your wincing becoming more defined the longer his silence stretched between you both.

“Fine,” he answered tersely, causing your eyes to widen and expand. He stood before you, inactive, delaying his departure back to where the Marauder camped, eager for his tending.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you extended your arm, gifting to him the laser-caliper you had promised. He took it from you, taking the time to inspect it before squarely staring through to your soul.

“Well?” he asked, both hands full up with his datapad and the tool now in his possession. Nervously, you searched his face, then you sought to do what had previously been thought unthinkable.

Meticulously, and with the utmost care, you lifted and removed Tech’s goggles from off his nose. Once loosed from his ears, you were deliberate with your intentions; you made sure not to pull a single strand of his curly hair.

Though you now appeared mostly as a blur, Tech could still make out your expression. He noted you looked pleased, and in turn he felt slightly amused, his feelings marked by the smallest upturn of his shapely lips.

“Now?” you asked, afraid he might change his mind at any moment.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he responded, Tech going so far as to tilt his body forward, his mouth mere centimeters from your own.

You craned your neck, taking a new liberty, your free hand meeting the turn of his cheek. You cradled his firm jaw in the crook of your palm as you unabashedly lingered, pressing into the soft flesh of his downy lips.

Then, he surprised you; he had clipped his datapad to his belt in one fluid motion, the backs of his gloved fingers tracing the curved line of your jaw. His caress extended from the base of your ear to the start of your soft neck; you could not help but to relax at his welcomed touch.

Your eyes closed as he attempted to deepen your kiss, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you allowed Tech to take the lead.

It would last longer than you had ever hoped for, stealing your breath away. Once you found the wherewithal to break free of your shared embrace, Tech gave you the equivalent of a knowing smirk.

“Truth be told, I thought you would never ask.”

[ghostofskywalker]

hellooo! i'm really excited about your winter ficlets and wanted to request something!

what about “I don’t think either of us are qualified for this, but sure, go for it” with tech? i'm really wondering what he wouldn't be qualified for. 🤭 and i don't mind about the reader's pronouns, you can write what you're up to!

hello! this was such an interesting and fun prompt for him, i hope you enjoy my interpretation!

words: 840

summary: omega's in a bad mood, and neither you nor your boyfriend know what to do about it.

note: the mechanics of this fic rely on the idea that when they're on Ord Mantell, the batch rent an apartment so that they're not on the ship all the time.

Not Qualified

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The sound of Omega’s door slamming shut echoed throughout the tiny apartment, and you could have sworn you heard some of the plates in the cabinet rattle. Not sure what to do, you looked at Tech. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Looking as confused as you felt, he shook his head. “I understand that Omega may be worried that Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo haven’t returned by now, but this behavior is far from normal for her.”

“Do you want to check on her and make sure everything is okay?”

He looked at you like you had just suggested that he wrestle a gundark with his bare hands. “What?”

“Someone should check on Omega,” you said, a confused look on your face. “She clearly needs to talk to someone right now.”

“What about you?”

Your eyes widened. “I don’t know how qualified I am for something like this. Usually bounty hunters can just kill their problems, and that’s definitely not what needs to happen here. Besides, you’re her brother.”

“Look, I don’t think either of us are qualified for this,” Tech said. “But we should still go for it.”

As you looked at his face, you could see a glimpse of something in his eyes that you didn’t quite recognize at first, until it came to you. Tech was nervous. It made sense of course, because Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo had embraced their newfound role of “big brother” a little easier than he did, because he had always been a little bit less social than the rest of the crew. Hells, it had taken you what felt like forever to finally get him to realize that you liked him, and the relationship you had with him was still just barely out of the friend zone. You knew it had to be nerve-wracking right now, to be the only one of his brothers here and having a issue that can’t necessarily be solved with cold hard facts, and you reached out to take his hand. “Come on, let’s go together.”

A gruff “come in” sounded through the door moments after you knocked, and the door opened to reveal Omega laying face down on her bed, with the plush Aiwha you had gotten for her at a market laying haphazardly on the floor (which was likely launched into the air from the momentum of her throwing herself on the bed).

You were definitely not prepared for this, but it would be much worse to just turn around and leave, so you took a few steps into the room. “I can tell that something is bothering you honey,” you said gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It may make you feel better.”

She pulled her body upwards off the bed, and you could see the way her eyes shined with tears. “When is everyone else going to come back?” she asked, and your heart broke.

Growing up where she did and being watched over exclusively by Kaminoans clearly affected her, and now that she had found something of a family it had to be hard to watch some of them leave. Even if it was simply for a mission, part of the team leaving meant that she still had to spend more time without the people she cared so deeply about. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “But they won’t be gone forever, I know that.”

Tech looked like he was going to open his mouth to say something, but you shot him a quick glare. Yes, you knew that every mission meant the chance of serious injury or death, and Omega probably knew that too, but technicalities were not what she needed to hear right now.

Thankfully, he seemed to get the message. “Yes, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker will be back as soon as they can,” Tech said, and you watched as Omega ran over to him. He definitely looked a little shocked as his sister threw her arms around him, and you could see the way he looked to you for help. You mimed wrapping your arms around something to give him a little hint of what to do in this moment, and he nodded quickly.

You watched as Tech followed your hint, and you could see Omega’s tears start to stop. You knew that her heartbreak wasn’t something that could be fixed right away (or maybe at all), but with some time (and maybe a little bit of ice cream), you might be able to help make this a little less difficult for her.

It was impossible to ignore the smile that crept over your face at the sight of Omega clutching onto Tech like he was going to disappear, simply because he looked really surprised when it first happened. You had a feeling though, that he would be settling into his newfound role as big brother a little easier from now on.

And maybe, later you would get to gleefully inform him that he was wrong about neither of you being qualified to help in this particular situation.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[senseandaccountability]

I'm sorry, I had to take a break from the game to write this little act 1 ficlet because I'm obsessed and wanted to try out this POV for a bit. Sorry/not sorry.

Build this ship to wreck pg-13, 900-ish words

*** It’s so simple, seducing her. Almost boring in all its pettiness. A little flattery here, a carefully worded promise there - their lives are dark and dreary and full of worms and Elnys Tavren is not even half as immune to vain delights as she’d like to pretend she is.  “You don’t have me yet,” she reminds him and all the freckles and scars of her skin seem visible in the moonlight at that moment. The darkness rising from the earth nearly disguises her but not to him. Never to him, he doesn’t miss a beat and that’s why he’ll win in the end.

There’s something wild about the way she moves. Something raw and unrefined that makes him think not of the endless line of perfect, willing bodies he’s lured and baited over the centuries, but of a before that he no longer knows ever truly existed outside of his imagination. Hundreds of years of make-believe take their toll, he assumes. Perhaps that’s why he - apart from the fact that she’s the least powerful fighter of the group - had chosen to bite her, not so long ago. Glaringly obvious reasons aside, she’s also someone the living man he used to be might have desired, once, before he made a deal with the devil and lost all traces of himself to cruelty and death. Cazador, at least, wouldn’t enjoy her, of this he’s absolutely certain. Look what the pets dragged in. He’d feed, soften the worst of his bottomless hunger and throw away her corpse; the notion rattles dangerously in Astarion’s chest for a fraction of a second. No.

The chasm of his pasts thunders and rages, but he can’t give in to it, can’t twist up this chance at turning the tables. Nothing matters but that freedom, the sheer might of it. Does it?  Mere hours ago Elnys had allowed him to deal with the filthy Gur monster hunter the way he saw fit and Astarion had cut the man down - sloppily, without much glee, but instead a sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach. Disappointment, surely, at the lack of grandeur. Surprise that the dreadfully dull woman holding the reins had loosened them like that when, normally, she’ll jump in between an arrow and a bystander for no good reason. On the way back to camp he had meant to ask her why, meant to prod further into the shades of what his power over her could be wielded from - lust, loyalty, naivety - but the words had got caught up in between their companions, then in a camp full of celebration and revolting wine. There’s so much to consider, wound tight around others like this. Obstacles, idiocies, downright doubts, but Astarion is nothing if not resourceful so here they are now. He tells her he’s been wanting to have her since he first saw it. It’s cheap, hells is it ever, but what is seduction other than a mutually signed pact to play certain parts? An animal and its prey. The consummate lover and their chosen one. There’s a glint in her eyes as he steps closer, a flicker of hesitation perhaps. He changes his tone, tilts his head, adjusts to her unspoken demands and just like that, it’s gone again. It’s so simple, seducing her.  And hells, it would be boring if it wasn’t for her rough edges, the unpolished lust and the memory of nights in camp, listening to her spin tales from the sordid places she grew up in, her glee after a successful battle, her sharp insights and filthy mouth. All those details of her, they fill up every empty space between them, flatten out the hollows. 

She tastes of cheap wine and smoky fish and her hands get lost in his hair, twisting themselves around his curls as he kisses her; he gets lost in his own well-rehearsed theatrics, then in her blood as she rolls her neck and allows him. No fear, no sense of obligation and he’ll remember this for at least a century, he thinks, the way her fingers trace the wretched scars along his back as he drinks her, the way her breath catches and her lips are on his, licking her own life from them. Afterwards, she’s flat on her back beside him on the ground like they’re some lost wood elves frolicking about; he plays along, thinking this woman's surely predictable enough to appreciate that sort of romantic delusion. She’s glancing at him with that particular gaze she has sometimes, letting it graze over his face. It makes her seem puzzled and determined at the same time, as though she’s measuring them quietly, holding them up against a scale of her own making. 

There’s that rattle again, the sound of bones in him as he realises he doesn’t want to know what she makes of this, let alone of him. Nothing to see in here, he thinks, pushing himself up on one elbow to meet her gaze. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “Are you alright?” “Am I… what?” Elnys shrugs; the corners of her mouth twitch. “Forget it,” she says, but he won’t. After Cazador, he doesn’t forget a single thing. “Darling, of course I am, as you so eloquently put it, alright,” he retorts instead, stifling a scoff with a smile and her possible further questions with a thumb rubbing over her nipple.  She growls, low in her throat, and pulls him down over her.

“’s not a strange question, you know, just common courtesy,” she mumbles later still, arms curled around herself, a few fingers vaguely brushing his arm. He doesn’t care for it, or wouldn’t under any other circumstances, but the sun will be up soon and he can’t find it in himself to spoil the wonder of seeing it by moving anywhere. Elnys’s crimson-dyed hair is spread out over the grass, over the place where his heart once could beat and Astarion lies there watching the stars fade into a bright sky as she begins to snore, her breaths tickling his shoulder. It’s so simple, seducing her. 

[im-a-wonderling]

The Chosen One ~ Anidala

Well...I don't often write ficlets, and if I do, I don't post them. Buuut I was working on Rescue Me, and this just kinda happened, so I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: Unedited angst I guess?

Word count: 1.5k

To be the chosen one with no choices.

That’s how Anakin felt, standing on the balcony, fresh off his fourth nightmare this week. He watched the nighttime traffic of Coruscant whirl past, wishing he himself could hop on a ship and run away. He would never be able to describe the relief he’d feel if he and his wife just…left. If their responsibilities ended, and they had the chance to leave, to go to safety, to have their child in peace.

He let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself. 

The dream tonight had been worse. He’d seen her die. He’d felt her life…stop. 

His ears caught the soft sounds of padding feet. 

“Go back to bed,” he said quietly. “I’m fine.”

The feet only came closer. He closed his eyes, a fleeting smile gracing his lips. He should’ve known better.

“Ani,” Padmé said softly. Just his nickname, nothing else.

Arms—his favorite arms in the galaxy—slid around his abdomen, and a face buried into his back. “Come back to bed with me.” Padmé’s coaxing voice lulled him back to sleep like nothing else had, not the excessive exercise, not the staying up until his mind was too tired to manufacture anything, not even sleep aids he’d taken from the infirmary.

Padmé made everything better.

A searing pain started in his chest as he remembered his dreams. 

“I’m not going to sleep anymore tonight.” He meant it. He wouldn’t sleep, even if he had to glue his eyes open. Being exhausted tomorrow was a small price to pay for the hope that he would feel less haunted when the sun came up.

The arms loosened, and Padmé swung around to face him.

The day her beauty failed to make his breath catch was the day his heart no longer beat. Her warm brown eyes held more power over him than anything else in this world. The rosiness of her cheeks reminded him of her luscious home planet of Naboo, and she was now more his home than the desolate planet on which he’d first fallen in love with her, thirteen years ago. And her hair?

He reached up to touch one of her curls, running it between his fingers with a sort of juvenescent fascination. 

Padmé studied his face. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He knew his wife well enough to recognize the alarm in her face, but he didn’t want to give voice to the horrible images he’d seen, not in the presence of his angel. 

“If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you,” she said, her voice like balm on a burn, “then I can’t help you.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “The longer I can’t help you, the longer we’ll both be out here, not sleeping.”

How anyone in the Senate could resist Padmé’s silver tongue, Anakin didn’t know. He certainly was never able to begrudge her anything for long.

Padmé’s hand found Anakin’s hair. She didn’t smooth it down or comb through it, but just sank her fingers into the soft locks, holding onto as much of it as she could. “Talk to me.”

He shut his eyes, leaning into her touch. He hadn’t realized how much he needed it. “The dreams–” he broke off. “They won’t stop.” 

He felt Padmé lean away from him, and the distance made his anxieties skyrocket. 

“Ani, I’m not going to die in childbirth.” Her voice, while loving, was stern, and he hated it.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, his voice shaking, opening his eyes again. “How can you discount–”

“Listen to me.” Padmé lifted her chin, the same way she did in Senate meetings when she was about to end a discourse. “I’m fine. All my check-ups have been normal.”

“My mother died,” Anakin croaked. “I dreamed it, and it happened.” He reached out for her, his hands settling at her waist. “I…I can’t survive losing you,” he confessed. “Without you–” his voice cracked. “Without you, there’s nothing left in this galaxy for me.”

Padmé remained still in his arms. He knew she was formulating the right thing to say, but he didn’t want her to say anything, for how could she have a solution if she didn’t even believe in his dreams in the first place?

“Anakin, if I die–” Anakin shrank away from her, unable to bear it, but Padmé walked after him, her eyes blazing with stubbornness. “You have to let me finish.”

“If you die, I die!” He knew he was being too loud, but there was no way to say these things quietly. “I won’t even think of living without you!” 

Padmé’s retaliation was sharp. “Do not condemn this child to a life without a mother or father!”

Anakin froze. 

Padmé drew nearer, reaching out for him, pressing Anakin’s metal and flesh hands to her belly. “If I die, this baby will need you more than ever.”

Anakin furrowed his brow. 

“You’re not only a husband anymore,” she said softly. “You’re a father now too.”

Father.

Anakin blinked. 

He hadn’t had a father. Obi-Wan had been the closest thing, and Anakin was already nine years old when Obi-Wan came into his life. 

A different fear gradually came into Anakin’s mind.

“What if I’m a horrible father? What if the baby hates me? What if it goes hungry? My mother did the best she could for me, but…there were times when we both went to bed hungry, times when Watto took advantage of us.” He shut his eyes, overwhelmed both by the memories and the compassion in Padmé’s face. 

Padmé’s soft and cool fingers ran comfortingly down his face. “You’re not on Tatooine anymore. And the baby won’t hate you. It’s half of you and half of me.”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, the gears in his mind turning. “I’m a Jedi. I don’t make any money, and the council wouldn’t let me raise the baby in the temple, not without me telling them I’m the father, and if I did that–” 

Anakin had to choose. He had to make the choice which hovered over him for years, the sacrifice he’d avoided being forced to make. 

The Order or his family.

Obi-Wan, the Jedi Temple, and Anakin’s very way of life or Anakin’s mother, his wife, and his baby. 

He tried to imagine the two different paths.

If Padmé died, the baby lived, and Anakin didn’t step forward, their baby would likely be sent to Padmé’s parents on Naboo. Her parents were unaware of their daughter’s marriage, and Anakin’s child would live with no clues as to their father’s identity. Meanwhile, Anakin, wracked with grief, would devote himself to the Order and bring peace to the galaxy, as the Chosen One was prophesied to do. 

However, if Anakin did step forward…he didn’t know the first thing about parenting. He didn’t know anything about babies, how to keep them healthy and entertained. He would flounder and perhaps fail miserably multiple times. But Anakin had always been a quick learner, and if he made up his mind, eventually he would figure it out. 

He could show his child the galaxy, teach them all he knew about piloting and fixing things. They would meet all kinds of people from all walks of life. And he would tell them stories. He’d tell them about wise Master Qui-Gon Jinn and powerful Obi-Wan. They’d learn all about the Clone Wars. They would know all about their strong, beautiful mother, and they would live every day knowing that both their mother and father loved them. 

But he’d be separated from the Order. 

Neither future was perfect. Neither one felt like destiny. 

But that wasn’t the way to think about it, Anakin could see that now. The Order could continue without him. Obi-Wan could continue without him. If Padmé died, their baby would need him. 

He opened his eyes again, suddenly calmly resolute. “If the worst happens, and you…you die, I’ll leave the Order.” His wife’s wide eyes told him she understood the weight of what he was saying. “Anything you could ever ask of me, I would do,” he told her. “And I will provide anything and everything our baby needs.”

“Anakin–”

“Without you and our baby, there’s nothing else for me,” he said simply. “Without the two of you, it all means nothing.”

“I–”

“I know, it’s a little bit crazy, but–”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Padmé looked up at him. “I was going to say I love you.” 

“Oh.” Anakin let out a long breath. 

The pinch telltale of worry appeared between Padmé’s eyebrows. “Ani, are you sure about this?”

He brought his hands to her cheeks, holding her in place while he kissed the adorable scrunch. “Yes.” Padmé’s arms wrapped around him, holding him so tight, he couldn’t think of anything but her, just what he preferred.

Neither one of them spoke for a while. 

Then, wordlessly, Padmé led him back to bed. When Anakin settled under the covers and closed his eyes, he was still afraid, but he knew that if he woke up from another nightmare, he would wake up to see the woman he loved and remember the promise he’d made her. Because, as it turned out, the chosen one did have choices.

-

Tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[optiwashere]

For the prompt fill: B5 with Asheera/Shadowheart because I love those two so much!

Thank you so much for the love of the girls, and for requesting this one 💜

You can send a prompt from this list + a ship or platonic pair, and I'll write a ficlet!

---

B5. A character that isn't used to being protected finds someone who will protect them from anything

In the darkness of the House of Grief, on a set of violet-and-gold clad stairs, Shadowheart waited. Waited for what, she didn't know. For a hand on her shoulder to wake her and tell her this was all a terrible nightmare, perhaps. Her hair would be black again and she would wear the circlet of the Dark Lady with pride instead of disgust.

There would be one missing in the barracks if she woke just then. A half-orc with an easy smile, gentle laugh, and careful hands. A paladin that promised so much and never once failed her.

When Shadowheart opened her eyes, she saw nothing but the purple flames of lit braziers and her companions taking the steps into the shadows below. Ready to fight for her. The Mother Superior wouldn't sit and suffer this insolence, and somewhere deep within herself Shadowheart knew that her initial mission to retrieve the Prism was full of strange instructions, holes in their team's composition, and more. It was all coming to this.

And these people were willing to fight for her. Someone they'd known for a few months.

Why?

"Is everything all right?"

Asheera's voice dispelled the reverie from her mind, and Shadowheart glanced over at the woman that she found herself falling for despite all of this. Despite every bit of her being so tired of it all already, Shadowheart couldn't deny that she looked to Asheera at the lowest of her moments.

"I'm fine," lied Shadowheart.

Asheera shook her head. "You're not."

A long silence was all Shadowheart gave her in answer. She was so close to seeing her parents, yet she didn't know what would happen. Voicing her concern felt impossible.

"You know I won't let them hurt your parents," Asheera whispered, stepping closer to her. "Or you. Ever again. If I knew their names, I would swear an oath on it."

Shadowheart reached out, slipping her gloved hand into Asheera's gauntleted one. They both squeezed tight. She laced her fingers between Asheera's and felt the honesty in that grip, the strength offered.

"I know," said Shadowheart. "I don't know why you've gone all this way for me, but I'll cherish your kindness forever."

"You really don't know?" Asheera scoffed. "The thought of your Mother Superior laying a hand on you has me... fuming with anger. It's almost so bad that I can't tell where I am for minutes at a time. Ever since you found out about your parents, when I think about it I have to chant my oaths backwards and forwards a dozen times to stop myself from breaking whatever I'm holding in my hands. I have dreams of your Mother Superior's neck in the same hands that are meant to forgive and redeem."

With every word, Asheera's grip on Shadowheart's hand tightened. She punctuated everything with more and more strength. Her brows pinched above her nose, and her normally warm, ruddy brown eyes reminded Shadowheart then of a focused lioness.

One whose love was threatened.

One who held Shadowheart in her hands just then. Shadowheart knew Asheera was never going to try to break her despite all this building anger.

Shadowheart found her voice. "I'll never be able to repay you for this, and—"

Asheera leaned down and pressed her lips against Shadowheart's without any force. A tender kiss that felt barely more than a graze.

When they parted, Asheera said, "All I need, all I want, is your smile after this is all through."

Unable to find the words to match the flood of heat in her chest, Shadowheart nodded. Though her memories were lost, that sense of complete trust she had in Asheera seemed almost entirely foreign. Unique. Precious.

Just as she felt whenever Asheera looked at her. Perhaps, then, she was someone worth protecting.

She blinked away the scant wetness willed to her eyes and thought instead of her parents.

[lathalea]

20 Questions for Writers

It took me a while, but here we go! Thank you for tagging me @fishing4stars and @i-did-not-mean-to 💚

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Let me see... 49 🙈

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 682,524 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien - mostly The Hobbit, LOTR and The Silmarillion.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Please check fic rating and tags before reading! 📖 The Writer's Month 2021 ficlet collection 📖 Springtime at the Lonely Mountain 📖 All Is Fair in Love and Trade 📖 Strong 📖 Third Time's the Charm

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, I'm very happy to interact with my readers, and it doesn't matter if it's a long comment or a lovely bunch of chaotic keysmashes, I love to reply to them all!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? The first chapter of The Weeping Willow. I was crying while writing it. it was meant as a standalone story but my amazing readers convinced me to write the second chapter to make the angst more bearable 😇

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think it's How to Kiss a Fairy, a fluffy and cute fic I wrote together with @avaria-revallier.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, it has never happened so far. The closest to "hate" comments I got is reading loving messages like "how dare you treat these characters this way" (meant in a positive way) - I absolutely adore them!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Some tender vanilla, some is more kinky. I'm mostly into m/f and f/f.

10. Do you write crossovers? Rarely, mostly one-shots. My weirdest ones so far were The Hobbit crossovers with Three Musketeers, Snow White, and Star Wars.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. It's The White Raven, not an easy thing to translate, I believe.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! It's so much fun! Here are two fics I can think of at the moment: How to Kiss a Fairy (see above) and Scattered Through Time co-written with @joyfullynervouscreator

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Canon ship? Wait, only one? How am I supposed to choose? Let me give you three ships for the price of one: Eowyn x Faramir, Galadriel x Celeborn, Bofur x Bilbo.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Listen, I want to finish all 398274238765723866782354768 of my WIPs, okay? Just please don't ask me when...

16. What are your writing strengths? I have no idea, I'm constantly doubting myself. Maybe... Storyline planning and worldbuilding?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Do you have an hour? No? I thought so. My biggest one is laziness. And I'm not too good with dialogues. And descriptions of clothing worn by the characters. And... finishings the fics I started.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As English is not my native language, I'm doing it every day :D Writing dialogue in elvish or dwarven languages is a great tool for a writer! Among other things, adds specific flavour to stories and I really like reading it. From time to time, I add some of it to my stories too.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Every single fic I wrote is my favourite - although each of them for different reasons. What are your favourites?

Tagging (no pressure): @middleearthpixie @crazytxgradstudent @asgardianhobbit98 @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

@sotwk @joyfullynervouscreator @ettelene @heilith and everyone else who would like to join!

[quill-pen]

I should be sleeping or at least in bed, but late-night creativity always seems to hit me hard. Probably because it's the time of day I can actually sit down and just write without being interrupted while everything and everyone else sleeps. I always regret it in the morning though. lmao--kill me!

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be a ficlet. I was just going to do another little conversation thing like I normally do, but then my mind said, "Ya know, this would be a fun little thing to write." So... I did. I went all out and did. And it was fun! Except it kept me up until nearly 1 am. Again. Oy....

Anyway--on with the ficlet!

Slight NSFW--I'm gonna go ahead and say 18+ and "Minors get lost" just to be safe.

Summary: A quick comparison of two of my favorite ships from my Scroogeverse: Tom and Addie and Ebenezer and Bess. Which couple wins? You decide!

Warnings: Surprise, surprise--most of these are for Ebeness: brief mention of body-shaming, groping, mention of genitals, dirty talking, lusty idiots in love--I'm surprised there isn't more. As of now, not edited.

Toddie Vs. Ebeness

Addie Shaw, soon to be Jenkins, leaned heavily against the front counter of Jenkins' Toys and Games, watching as the owner of the establishment and her fiancé, Tom Jenkins, checked the inventory on the shelves. Every so often, after he'd counted up the amount of a certain item, he would call out to her a number and item name and she would dutifully record it in the ledger beside the proper entry. They'd been at it for a little over an hour now, Tom working down the shelves away from the counter. Away from Addie.

Addie drummed the fingers of her left hand against the pages of the ledger book as she heavily rested her face in her right hand. She knew it was stupid, what she was feeling, but she couldn't help it; the further Tom moved away from her, the lonelier she felt. And why on earth should that have been? He was literally right there in the room with her--he wasn't even out of sight behind shelves yet! Still, silly as it was, she did feel lonely and there was no denying it. She couldn't reach out and touch him from here, couldn't feel his warmth, couldn't smell his cinnamony cologne that she loved so much. Addie let her gaze fall down to hold on the pretty silver ring on her ring finger. Now she understood what her cousin Bess meant when she spoke of true love: You didn't need to be next to them all the time, but, ye gods, did you ever want to be!

A brilliant idea suddenly came to the young woman's mind that caused her rosy lips to curl. It was a little bit more of a Bess thing to do, but it seemed like it could be fun. And Addie knew Tom wouldn't mind taking a break.

Gently slapping her hand against the ledger, Addie leaned even more heavily on the counter and sighed extra, extra loudly, making sure to make it sound dramatically forlorn. She thought she did a decent job.

It definitely worked, for Tom immediately stopped in his counting of the checkerboards and turned to look at her. "Is everything all right, Sugarplum-bum?" he asked, looking a tad bit concerned.

Addie met his eyes, looking innocently at him. "Yes," she answered.

"Only, that sigh sounded rather sad," Tom gently pressed further, his gentle brown eyes looking her over.

Addie bit back a smile. Bess was a genius! "Well, as it happens, I am just a tad melancholy," she replied, doing her best to keep the corners of her mouth from curving up.

Tom hopped off his ladder and moved towards her, looking even more worried. "Oh, yes? Might I ask why?"

Addie put on her best pout and puppy-dog eyes, and she must have done a commendable job because she could see an entirely new level of softness well up in her beau's eyes. She internally cheered and made a mental note to discuss her triumph with Bess later. "Well, if you must know, Sugarpie, it's because it's been an hour and five minutes since you last told me you loved me."

Surprise, realization, knowing, and playfulness all flashed through Tom's eyes in a wink. It was incredibly impressive, and Addie quietly wondered if that's what Ebenezer looked like whenever Bess pulled this stunt with him. "Oh, my!" Tom gasped, one hand flying up to cover his mouth, the other his heart. "Oh, I am so sorry, Peachfuzz, so very sorry indeed! Allow me to fix my mistake!" He swept behind the counter and wrapped the plump woman up in his arms, squeezing her tight as he spun her around.

Squealing with delight, Addie wrapped her arms around the man's neck. Then she found herself being lifted up and deposited on the countertop. She blushed pink and giggled as Tom came to stand in front of her, moving between her legs. She probably parted them for him a little bit easier than a lady should have, but she didn't care. They were practically married after all.

Wrapping his arms around her again, Tom stared into his love's shining hazel-nut eyes and smiled ever so lovingly and fondly at her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he murmured. Another kiss to her temple. "I love you." Her other temple. "I love you." He smooched her cute button nose. "I love you." He peppered her cheeks. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!"

Addie laughed, trying to push him away and duck out of the onslaught. "Tom-Tom, please! That's a little too much!"

"Ah, there's never such a thing as too much love, my sweet!" He kept up the assault of butterfly kisses all over her soft, round face before finally planting his lips on hers. Immediately everything slowed, the rest of the world falling away until they were the only two people in the universe.

Addie slowly slipped her hands up to cup Tom's jaw to hold him closer, her fingers curling around his delightfully prominent ears. She delighted at how the closely cropped curls of his 'chops tickled her palms. His thin 'stache scratched against her top lip just so, sending tingles throughout her body. The woman felt as though she were in her own personal Heaven, one that was filled with nothing but Thomas Aaron Jenkins. Not that there ever had been, but there wasn't a trace of doubt in Addie's mind--this was love. True love. And it was hers. It was theirs.

When the couple finally broke apart, Tom touched his forehead to Addie's and gazed deeply into her hazy eyes. "I love you, Adelaide Kathryn Shaw" he repeated, softly, slowly, with meaning in every letter and syllable. "With every bit of my soul, I love you. You make me the happiest man on Earth, and I will dedicate the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest woman on Earth."

Addie smiled adoringly at the man, his words touching her very soul and bringing the slightest burn of tears to her shining eyes. Growing up she'd always been the silly fat girl--too plump, too loud, too attention-seeking. Boys and young men had never looked at her as something to take seriously, never mind something to love or desire. But now here she was, a grown woman in love with an absolutely wonderful grown man who loved her back with all his might, listened to everything she had to say no matter how goofy, and wanted her to be his wife and mother of his children. Addie had never felt so special. Or so happy. "You do that already, Tom," she replied to the man. "You make me so happy, I hardly know what to do with myself."

Tom smirked. "Well, apparently, you're so happy, you stoop to your delightful cousin's manipulations in order to get a little extra affection out of me."

Addie giggled. "It worked, did it not?"

The swarthy man grinned and shook his head. "You Shaw women," he muttered, booping her nose with a finger, "deviants the lot of you. I've never seen more mischievous females."

"You love us and you know it."

"Yes. Mischievous and irresistible--a dangerous combination. Good thing I'm a man that's always liked a little danger."

Addie laughed as he surged back in to kiss her again.

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Ebenezer was adding up the family balance book for the month when the door of his study practically flew open. He took a brief second to look up and catch a glimpse of his wife before turning back to his numbers. "Hello, Darling," he greeted her.

With a melodramatic sigh, Bess leaned heavily against the doorpost and pressed the back of her right hand to her head. "Have you no heart, Ebenezer Charles Scrooge?!" she exclaimed, a theatrical vibrato in her voice.

Still adding up the balance, the reformed miser smirked at the woman's dramatics. Bess always claimed she couldn't stand theater, but the woman took such delight in performing melodrama it was hard to believe her. "Well," he answered, "I have a pulse; so judging from that, I believe I have heart--but I haven't been to the doctor for a good while, so I suppose I can't say with certainty."

"No!" Bess wailed, going full Shakespearean. "No, you haven't a heart! How can you?" She pushed off the doorpost and swept into the room. "How can a man profess to have a heart when he hasn't told his adoring and devoted wife 'I love you' since..." she paused and took a deep, shuddering breath, "... since breakfast hours ago! Oh! Oh, the humanity!" The American pressed a hand to her forehead again and the other to her heart and twirled about before "swooning" and collapsing onto the deep rust, chaise lounge across from his desk. She sobbed, stretching a foot dramatically towards the ceiling: "The humanity!"

That caused Ebenezer to roll his eyes and turn away from the balance book to pivot around in his chair and face the actress that was his wife. He smirked amusedly at her. "You never fail to take it up a notch, do you?" he remarked with a snort.

Bess peeked out of the corner of her eye at the silver-haired man and winked with an impish grin, before resuming character. "Oh, the misery! The despair of being a vibrant, vivacious woman trapped in a loveless marriage!"

"Well, you are most certainly a vibrant, vivacious woman, I'll give you that."

"How can I go on? Knowing that the man I love doesn't love me in return--how can I possibly be expected to go on?! Oh, I am a piteous being! A most wretched and lowly soul cast among the broken and downtrodden of this cold, cruel, heartless world! Oh, woe! Woe is me! Woe is me!" Bess threw herself fully across the lounge, leaning far back over the curved headrest so that she was nearly hanging upside down, a hand still pressed to her brow.

The sound of chuckling reached her ears, followed by a book snapping shut. Then there were footsteps lazily crossed the hardwood floor before the door shut. The sound of the lock turning was what caused the woman to snap her eyes open and sit up to look at her husband. The distinguished gentleman stood there beside the door, watching her intently, his eyes dark. A shiver instantly ran up Bess' spine. She watched carefully as he undid his cuffs and deftly rolled up his sleeves, revealing expanses of slender-built forearms covered in attractive salt-and-pepper hair. Defined, wiry muscles flexed beautifully beneath rosy skin, reminding her of the surprising power and strength those otherwise slender arms possessed: The strength to carry her all the way home from the market when she twisted her ankle; the strength to hold her up and pin her to a wall as he rutted into her until she screamed with ecstasy. Bess gulped, looking from Ebenezer's arms up to his leering face. A thrill shot straight through her down to the special space between her thighs that only Ebenezer knew and could affect so markedly. Instinctively she parted her legs a bit.

"Well, now," Ebenezer rumbled as he slowly trod towards her, fiddling with the last few rolls of his left cuff, "it would appear as though I've been a bad husband--neglectful in my duties and leaving my poor, poor wife to suffer for it."

Bess pouted out her bottom lip. "You have been neglectful," she grumped.

"I know, Sweetness."

"Very, very neglectful."

"I know."

"How am I supposed to know that you still love me when you go hours without telling me, Ebenezer?"

"I know, I know, and I'm so sorry, Bess. So very, very sorry." He knelt on the floor before her, (which was quite gallant to do, as he did not have the youngest knees anymore) and gazed up into her face. He smirked and it held a dangerous edge that matched the blackness of his eyes. "As I have been made aware of this... greatest of transgressions," Ebenezer said, his voice soft but dark, "I would very much like to try and alleviate it." He wrapped his arms around the woman's waist and drew her forward to him. "If only you would be so gracious as to let me, Dearest Wife." He trailed a hand languidly down Bess' long leg until he came to the very hem of her skirt. Moving his hand to touch her stockinged ankle, he traced his hand just as slowly back up under her skirt. His long fingers gently pressed into her flesh.

A squeak caught in Bess's throat as a goofy grin spread across her face along with a strawberry blush. Lord, the effect this devilish man had on her--she'd never get over it. And she never wanted to. "I-" she stopped and cleared her throat, "-I believe I could find it within me to be as such." She shivered at the temperature change on her lower legs as her lover slowly pushed her skirt up higher and higher.

Ebenezer smiled wolfishly. "Thank you, my darling. I am undoubtedly married to a saint of a woman." With his free hand, he took up one of hers and kissed her fingers. "I love you." He kissed her knuckles. "I love you." He kissed the back of her hand. "I love you." All the while, his hand beneath her skirt kept on its trek.

Bess tried to steady her breathing and shifted around to allow him more access as he progressed.

Ebenezer was kissing up her arm now, trailing his lips along its length until he reached her shoulder and pressed a firmer kiss there. "I love you," he whispered into her blouse. He turned his face to hers with devilishly glittering eyes and asked, "Is this making things better, my love?"

Bess shuddered a breath and nodded her head, unable to find her voice.

"But not quite enough is it? No, you went hours without hearing an 'I love you' from my lips--a few kisses will not suffice." He moved his head to the center of her chest and pressed a kiss to her clothed sternum, then a trail of them up over her collarbone and the column of her throat.

Bess moaned as his lips gently sucked at her sensitive skin, tilting her head back just slightly. Little twinges of pleasure sparked deep in her belly; heat pooled in her pelvis. How was it possible for anyone to be so good with their mouth all the damn time? She hadn't the time to consider that question as suddenly her man's lips were upon hers, claiming them fully. She leaned into it, tilting her head for a better angle and molding her fully lips to dance with his soft, smooth, slender ones. Without thinking she brought both her hands up to skim his shoulder and clutch at the back of his neck, one hand moving higher to twine into his soft, steely hair. A large hand squeezed her left knee ticklishly, and Bess squealed, allowing Ebenezer the perfect opportunity to plunder her mouth with his tongue. She moaned at the taste of him--he'd sucked on a peppermint recently-- and allowed him to push her deeper into the lounge. Before she knew it, she was lying back with her man stretched atop her and nestled comfortably between her legs. She had no complaints.

Finally, the kiss ended as both parties desperately needed more air than they could find through their nostrils. Hearts racing, lungs heaving, they gazed into each other's lusty, half-lidded eyes. Each party thought the other a spectacular vision with their flushed cheeks and glistening lips. They could have stayed in such a way forever and been content.

"I love you, Elizabeth Felicity Scrooge," Ebenezer rasped, voice as full of adoration and devotion as desire. It warmed Bess' very soul. "I love you so much, I don't believe I could ever voice it effectively to you." The man's lips curled into a delightfully wicked sneer as his once-slate-blue-now-black eyes gleamed with devilry. "Therefore, I believe I shall have to write it out with my tongue and fingers both on and in that delectable little quim of yours."

Bess was sure she could have burned to ashes on the spot with the heat that flared throughout her body. "Ebenezer!" she squeaked incredulously.

A dark, rumbling burr of a chuckle rolled up from deep in the Englishman's chest. "Oh, I love it when you say my name, She-Wolf," he snarled, touching his nose to hers as he glowered seductively into her eyes. He trailed his hand further up her thigh to find it bare and gave it an appreciative squeeze. Its mistress squealed, and he felt his pants grow ever more constrictive. "And I can't wait to hear you scream it again."

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @crimson-phantom-designs @purgratoriat @ofvampiirisms

[tennessoui]

*holds microphone to your face* miss kit, your brain is so interesting and amazing and i love everything it thinks of, so I have to ask *deep breath*….if, in a modern au/whatever-you-choose-au, how would you portray a Vader&Anakin duo? How obsessed would they both be with Obi-Wan? How would the old man handle getting the Skywalker attention x2? How dark would you make it or could you see it going in a more comedic direction? If in the GFFA universe, would they both be Obi-Wans Padawan (via loophole/bullshit-wxlapnation)? How much shit would they get up too? And finally….would be Obi-Wan be getting the double D? 😳

*yanks back mic* that’s all! Thank you for you input, and I’ll def be watching out for that body politic au 😉

(2/2) Whoops! Forgot to add the “Vader-no-crisp-version-just-a-twin note” 🙈😵‍💫

hm this is a great ask -and also thank you for the compliment!! so funnily enough 2 different fics/universes jump to mind, and neither are exactly what you're after, but both are close in different ways -

in the playmaker au, where undercover obi-wan is corrupted by mob boss anakin, anakin is written as having two personalities: anakin & vader, and in the ficlets, both names are used but not interchangeably. they're meant to reflect vaderkin's mind at whichever moment, so it's sort of like both vader and anakin are obsessed with obi-wan and he's getting a crazy amount of attention

but closer to what you're after is: 'if you love me let it remain unnamed', where for some hand-wavey reason, obi-wan and anakin from the gffa universe hop to a different universe where the jedi have fallen and there's an empress and a rebellion. they don't meet vader, but they do meet an older anakin skywalker who goes by the name set and is a smuggler, and for a few days, obi-wan has the undivided attentions of both his padawan who is in love with him and set who wants to fuck him

(spoiler alert, set fucks him. anakin also fucks him. it's a double d situation)

that fic ends with the gffa pair finding their way back to the correct galaxy (it's assumed at least) and set!anakin finding his own obi-wan in his galaxy!

and that's because i'm like a very weird writer/shipper where when i say i only ship obikin i mean i only ship them with each other's other part. i don't really read or have interest in writing a time traveling anakin story where he gets with old ben or a time traveling obi-wan story where he gets with a padawan anakin or something or an anakin from another dimension after his becomes vader. no one understands him like his anakin/his obi-wan understands him and they're a matched set!! idk how i would handle two anakins for one obi-wan in a scenario where it's not a temporary glitch but an actual long-term thing

[hyllaswriting]

I'm opening up short writing commissions!

Howdy! I thought I'd open up comms while I'm in between job applications so hopefully, I won't be left totally high and dry in terms of my finances.

I'll have five slots open for now, just to test the waters; comms will be $3 for every 100 words, and the maximum length will be $30/1000 words. I'm also willing to do NSFW for an extra $5 on top of the base price. I'm open to reader inserts but ships are a case-by-case basis, so feel free to message me here or my Ko-fi page with any questions/requests!

I'm the most confident about writing for:

League of Legends/Legends of Runeterra

Arcane

My Hero Academia (I'm not caught up on the anime but I am caught up on the manga)

Hazbin Hotel

Hellsing Ultimate

I will not​ write:

underage

noncon

real person fiction (RPF)

fetishes

bestiality/zoophilia

Feel free to ask about other fandoms, as well! If you want examples of my short-form writing, I have a collection of multifandom ficlets here.

Terms and Conditions​

Reposting or using my work without credit is forbidden. My work cannot be used for commercial use and is meant for the buyer and buyer only.

All prices are as listed and cannot be changed.

In your initial message, tell me the fandom you want me to write for, a brief summary of what you want me to write, and your desired word count.

I will begin working on your project after I receive payment. If I need to do a bit of preliminary research beforehand to refresh myself, I'll let you know and get started as soon as I'm done!

I will stay in contact with you throughout the entire process and give you periodic updates on the commission. When the work is complete, you will be sent a draft of the final work to look over. If it isn't to your satisfaction, I will make edits as necessary. Once everything is completed, I will send you two copies of the final written work in the form of a view-only Google Doc and a PDF file.

I have the right to refuse service to buyers if they do not read the rules, the terms, or the commission information.

If you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message here or on Ko-fi!

SLOTS: 0/5

[happyk44]

Having written yet another Percicobeth drabble (or ficlet? Probably? Like the difference is in word count, right? And I'm idk how long that one was but feels long-ish), I'm thinking about comments I've gotten (and ignored) on my other Percicobeth stuff, people complaining that Nico is gay so he can't be in a relationship with Annabeth and ofc my first instinct is to go "I was here long before Nico was gay, and shipped this ship, I'm not gonna abandon it just because the owner of the boats made up something new. I've been in this boat for over a decade. You think I give a shit if the owner suddenly says my boat isn't made for the deep waters I've been taking her into this whole time?"

And that of course is totally valid. I don't think people need to give up ships or headcanons or whatever else they've had for a long time just because something changed or became official in canon. But I also don't think it matters what people ship, irrespective of canon anyway. Like, yeah, in the heydays of fandom, shipping canon gay characters with female characters was really frowned upon because there were so little canon gay characters, it was annoying to see them scrubbed out for a m/f ship, but it's not really like that anymore. But also, tbh, as annoying as it was, I never really gave too much of a shit because fandom is fandom. People like what they like. And most of the time they retconned them to be bi, not straight so who gives a shit 🤷‍♂️ just block that person if you want and move along

But that also reminds me that I did get a comment complaining that by making Nico "bi", other people will feel like it's okay to make him straight, which a) that's not how that works and b) I'm not making him bisexual, I'm saying Annabeth is his exception.

In all my years of being in the PJO fandom, the only two girls I've ever shipped Nico with was Thalia (whooo, go early days PJO!) and Annabeth. And Thalia/Nico was never a big ship to me tbh. I think I may have actively shipped it for like a few months, and even then I didn't really seek it out. If I did read it, it was usually because they were a secondary relationship in a fic with a really fascinating plot. Like the only two fics I can remember reading with them as a pairing was a time travel kidfic, and this fic where the gods faded due to lack of belief so the kids had to take their spot as gods. And both fics had an ensemble cast and a plot I wish I remembered more.

So basically - it's really just Annabeth.

And truly and honestly, and this is just for me, I don't care how you guys approach it, but I never write Percicobeth with intention of Nico being bisexual. Even in the way back, when canon gay Nico was just a dream, I always just saw Percicobeth as "Nico is really gay, but Annabeth is hot so it doesn't matter for her". And I think a lot of people saw the ship that way too.

And for all that people talk about sexuality being fluid, it's really baffling to me that some people can't wrap their minds around a fictional relationship where a gay male character hooks up with a girl he really likes, but otherwise isn't attracted to other girls.

It happens in couples where a person transitions but their partner stays with them because they love them too much. Would they look at that gender on other people with the same vibrant romantic/sexual attraction? No. But on their partner it looks good, and that's all that matters. And all the jokes about gay men kissing twinks that turn out to be lesbians thinking they were kissing another lesbian.

Also I swear when I was, like, thirteen or so, people used to use the label homoflexible/heteroflexible, which basically meant "I'm gay/straight, but if you're hot enough, I might be interested". I wonder what happened to it 🤔 but yeah, anyway - sexuality is fluid, people kiss and date and fuck who they want, and sometimes who they want is not always what their label says, and it's really up to them if they want to change it.

So in summation. Yeah, I know Nico is gay. But I've shipped Percicobeth for over a decade, and I'm gonna keep shipping it because it makes me happy. And when I write the ship, Nico is still gay, but either Annabeth is hot enough that he doesn't care, or they end up having a really deep connection and friendship outside of their relationship to Percy, that they end up hooking up anyway.

Also sometimes I write Percicobeth as "she fucks Percy and he fucks Percy, but they don't fuck each other, they just scheme together different ways to fuck with Percy", because sometimes that's what polyamory is! Sometimes it's "I'm dating X, and X is dating me and Y, but I'm just good friends with Y, and Y is just good friends with me" and that's okay too. It doesn't always have to be everyone is in love and dating each other.

The world contains multitudes.

And at the end of the day, I write what I want.

[ghostofskywalker]

Your writing is amazing thanks so much for sharing!

For the winter ficlets how about “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.” With a gender neutral reader and Kix?

No pressure though thank you!

this was so fun, thank you for the prompt!!

words: 1,035

summary: Kix startles you awake in the medbay by accident. He just wants to make sure you get the rest you need.

Long Hours Make For Tired Jedi Healers

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

As Kix stepped into the Resolute’s medbay for his shift, he stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on you. Your overall presence in the space wasn’t a surprise, as he had known that you were here on the ship, but he had never seen a Jedi sleep before, and especially not the one that he had a little crush on.

For someone that fought tooth and nail to ensure that all clone medics had all the tools they could ever need on their flagships and that there was a mandatory cap on how many hours someone could work in a row without at least a sixteen hour break, you were terrible at following your own advice. The amount of time you had spent in this very chair was completely unknown to him, and he knew that it was probably way longer than you were going to admit.

The three patients in the medbay that you were technically watching over were also fast asleep, and Kix was grateful that life had slowed down a little for now. Of course the galaxy was still at war, and would be for the foreseeable future, but he still liked to take advantage of the times when his stress levels began to come down.

It was no shock that you had fallen asleep, especially with how your life was going at this point in time. Because you had some healing experience under your belt by the time the war broke out, you spent most of your time bouncing between battalions rather than working with a consistent group of soldiers, helping overworked medics in any way you could. Kix was always incredibly grateful for the time he spent with you, and not only because you were an incredible healer. He knew that developing feelings for a Jedi was never going to end in anything but heartbreak, but he could never help it with you.

Torn between wanting to let you sleep and also thinking that you would benefit the most from this nap if it took place in a bed rather than a chair, he took a few steps towards you, intending to wake you in the gentlest way he possibly could, but those plans were shattered when he accidently tripped over his own feet, only catching himself by throwing his arms out to grab onto the desk (that you were resting your head on).

Your head shot up instantly, and a somewhat crazed look took over your features as you grabbed the first thing you could find in order to use it as a weapon.

You were probably going for your lightsaber, but it just so happened that your datapad was actually the closest item. The image Kix saw was nothing but comical, especially given the fact that GAR-issued technology was incredibly fragile and wouldn’t at all make for an effective weapon. “Kix!” you said as you took in the situation, your face shifting as embarrassment took over your features. “I’m so sorry, you just startled me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile. “But I will say, I’ve never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

A soft scoff left your mouth as you shook your head, the absurdity of the situation finally clicking in your mind. “Yeah, I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I grabbed it.”

“I’m sorry for waking you like that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to throw myself against the table.”

“It seems we’re both a little bit of a mess today,” you laughed. “I won’t hold it against you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” he said, a smile growing on his face (as one always did when he spoke to you). “You should go get some rest.”

To others, those words might have seemed like he was trying to push you out of the room, but he never meant it that way. Wanting to make sure the people he cared about took care of themselves was so ingrained in Kix’s personality that he barely noticed when the instinct took over, and you were absolutely one of those people (and not only because he knew that you rarely put your own needs before anyone else’s).

And as he suspected, you weren’t about to start doing that now. “No, I’m fine,” you said. “I should be around to help if you need me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, and he must have succeeded in getting across some of his emotions, because you spoke again, this time with a slight defensive tone to your voice. “What if something happens?”

“We are in so far away from any planet that I think you can get some rest for a few hours,” Kix said. “You know I’m a fully trained medic, right?”

Your eyes widened as you took in his implication. “I’m not suggesting- I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t mean it like that, I promise,” he laughed, cutting off your frantic words. “But I can tell that you’re tired, so you need to get some rest.”

Something about his tone (or maybe it was his expression) must have clicked in your mind, because you just nodded before beginning to gather your things from the desk. “You can comm me if you need anything, and I’ll be here-”

“I will let you know if there is some kind of emergency,” he said, even though he doubted it would ever happen. “Now please, can you go and get some rest? For me?”

You walked over and wrapped your arms around him for a moment, and Kix relished in the feeling of your closeness (even if it was over way quicker than he wanted it to be). “I will,” you said softly. “But-”

He just looked at you, clearly pretending to be annoyed .“Go!”

You echoed his teasing tone. “Fine!”

Soon Kix was once again the only waking person in the medbay, and he faced a long shift ahead of him, but he didn’t really mind being alone for a little while. He certainly didn’t want to admit how much your short hug had affected him, and he just hoped that you were truly getting the rest you so desperately needed. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[miladydewintcr]

Writing Prompts

Hello!! Welcome to my prompts page!! On Fridays, I'll be taking prompts for the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle.

(More info below the cut!!)

I'm happy to explore pretty much all the dynamics- platonic, romantic, antagonistic, I don't mind! I'm also happy to write platonic interactions between... anybody!! Or just single character-focused drabbles!!

I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort, and for fluffy little ficlets, so expect to see a lot of those.

This week I'm feeling: I've been playing Veilguard all week and I'd love to explore the character dynamics a little!! I'm still not finished, so please don't spoil anything for me (I've picked up all the companions!! Currently I'm wrapping up all the side quests before I do the next Plot Mission). My canon ship is Rook/Bellara!! I'd love to write some cutesy, pre-relationship, friends-to-lovers kinda stuff for them as that's v much how I'm reading them where I'm at atm!! I'm also interested in writing some interactions between the Veilguard crew, and some (platonic!!) professor/student interactions between my Mourn Watch girl and Emmrich!

I'm working on a dedicated page for my OCs, but in the mean-time they're:

Eleri Tabris- duelist rogue, Zevran romance, convinced Alistair and Anora to rule jointly, spared Loghain. Eleri can be very soft-- she tends to be very understanding towards children, and people on the lower rungs of society. Amongst the nobility though--- she spent 99% of DA:O threatening violence to every nobleman she met. She trusts none of them. Noblewomen (and generally any nobles who aren't men) get a bit of a pass, but they are on thin ice. Loghain was the first one she offered a chance to (much to Alistair's dismay!!). He intrigues her, as someone who didn't grow up amongst the nobility. Her relationship with Zevran was sort of "slowly, and-then-all-at-once". In my game, it played out so that

Zevran's loyalty mission triggered on the way to rescue Anora from Arl Howe

Arl Howe is ofc in the palace where Eleri's extremely traumatic backstory took place, so she's just about not having a panic attack the whole time

I mis-clicked and Zevran offered her his earring during this mission. She said she only wanted it if it meant something. He reacted as he does (imo he lashes out here because this is his attempt at making their relationship transactional-- you helped me, I'll give you this. He understands transactional. He doesn't understand his feelings, and confronting them terrifies him)

Eleri gets taken to Fort Drakon before they can reconcile. Zevran is part of her rescue team

He then re-offered her the earring soon after. I think it worked well this way because I can say the fear of potentially losing her at Fort Drakon is what made him realise that he actually really does want to spend the rest of his life with her, if she'll have him (which she will ofc, she adores him)

Neria Surana- spirit healer mage, Leliana romance, backed Anora for the throne, let Alistair kill Loghain. Neria's life before joining the Wardens was incredibly sheltered. The Circle is all she remembers. The world she encountered outside of Kinloch Hold is terrifying-- but so incredibly exciting, and honestly less scary than the older mages would've had her believe- darkspawn and all. She was drawn to Leliana, who had seen so much of the world already and who had so many fascinating stories to share. And slowly, over time, their nightly story-telling sessions evolved into something more. Post-DA:O their relationship is predominantly long-distance, although Leliana visits Neria wherever she's stationed when she can-- and once Leliana is made Divine, Neria suddenly has a lot of business to attend to in Orlais?? They snatch moments together when they can, and love each-other completely.

Coralie Hawke- purple f!Hawke mage, Anders romance, backed the mages, Carver is a Warden. Currently I'm working on a long-fic about Coralie where she escapes the Fade and builds her happily ever after with her found family. Generally, though-- humour is Coralie's coping mechanism. Since her father died, it's been her job to hold her family together. To keep them happy. And also, generally speaking-- if someone is laughing at her jokes, they aren't paying so much attention to the sparks dancing around her fingers. As her life and her family fall apart, she clings to her poorly-timed jokes like a raft. If she's laughing, it's okay. If people are smiling at her, she's alright. The mask only comes down amongst a few select people, and only in private. Essentially: she seems like the happiest, most confident person you've ever met, but she's actually held together with pieces of string and with hope.

Hissera Imekari Adaar- necromancy mage, romanced Josephine, sided with the mages. She has several names. Hissera (hope) is the one that she identifies with most, although her parents used both it and Imekari (child) interchangeably throughout her childhood (with 'Immy' remaining their nickname for her, however old she gets). Adaar (weapon, fire-thrower) is the name she adopted when she started work as a merc-- there aren't many jobs in the Free Marches for a qunari mage. I like to think post-DAI, she adds Montilyet to her long list of names, too. Hissera is somewhat awkward, especially around polite society. She puts a lot of effort into being lady-like, because she worries constantly about how her actions reflect back on Josie. Trying her best. Full of anxiety. Just wants everybody, in the entire world, to like her and be her friend.

Viveka Ingellvar- Mourn Watch death caller mage, romanced Bellara. I'm still playing the game so this bio is still v much a WIP! But essentially-- she's a goth girl, she's always cracking jokes, and she loves her new friends. She's also incredibly homesick bless her.

Prompts:

softer love prompts

misc. sentence starters with a dash of angst

Taylor Swift lyric prompts

platonic sentence starters

[there-must-be-a-lock]

@luredin tagged me in this fun lil game!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

First fic published on Ao3: Marked, which I started in September 2017!!!!

Last fic published: Last *completed* one was A Brat By Any Other Name, which was the closest thing to PWP I've written in a long time, but I literally just posted Ch. 7 of i've got a bulletproof heart, you've got a hollow-point smile.

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: There are a number of ships I've only written once because I tend to mess around with rare-pair/crossover ficlet experiments pretty often, but considering that three of the four pairings in The Lake House were ones I only tried once within a fandom I've written a LOT (Nat/Steve, Clint/Darcy, Sam/Bucky), I'm going to go with that.

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: That'd be Steve/Bucky, so - Not That Kind Of Movie.

Fic I wish more people read: A Muscle The Size Of Your Fist. I know it's a very specific genre of AU that might not be your thing. I know. Just trust me? It's my favorite thing I've ever written.

Fic I agonized over: See above! I put SO much work into that one. Also, though, Sweet Home Was Home. It started as a sort of experiment where I was rewriting the Hawkeye series as it came out, basically, to be more in line with comics!Clint, but then it grew into a lot more; I spent a solid month on the last chapter, I think, because it had turned into something that meant so much to me, and I wanted to give the characters the ending they deserved. I still want to go back and re-write parts of it, the middle is a bit rushed, but I do love how it turned out.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: The One With The Pottery Barn Couch - aka the first Marshmallow Crime Lords fic. @noxnthea and I wrote like 7k of that 'verse within a day, I think? It was so much fun, and so much easier than I expected to write collaboratively with someone.

Fic I'm proud of: The Coffee & Psychopaths series. The first fic in that was when I stopped giving a fuck about whether people would read what I was writing, I think; I didn't expect anybody to read it, because it's a gen crossover, but also, it's super thinky, lots of psychology and science talk, and I got really into tying the two canons together, and... yeah. It was a JOY to write and I am super proud of it.

No-pressure tags: @noxnthea @bittercape @notherdeadrobin @claraxbarton @kangofu-cb @drgrlfriend @katzynia @skalidra

[antimonyandthyme]

Tagged by the lovely @badboy-george and @rosyjuly for the 20 questions for fic writers game, thank you! <33

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

62!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

196,925

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it's only F1, but I've written for a bunch of anime fandoms like Haikyuu! and Daiya no Ace (even in anime I can't escape sports) and Naruto of course. And some movie ones like Tenet. And some random others. Like the Epic 7 and Fire Emblem game.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Cloud That Settles (sewis), then If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win (lestappen), then Treading Softly in My Head (martian), then All the Miles We Have to Shed (martian), then Shutter Speed (martian). Special mention to the sixth in line But I Exist to Serve the Master, which I think was the first fic up on ao3 for The Gentlemen (2019) fandom kekekeke.

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

Yes, absolutely. I have a backlog at the moment which I feel a little guilty about because I want anyone who's commented to know their words and thoughts are so beloved to me, and sometimes when someone leaves a wonderfully thoughtful comment it takes me ages to respond because I want to respond in kind.

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

Spring Cleaning (maxiel) or this prosenna tumblr ficlet

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

Hmm. Looking through my fics I realize they often end on a very happy, resolved, or hopeful note. It'd be tough for me to choose the happiest. Maybe Down in the Depths We Make Our Home (sebchal pacific rim au), just for how complete it felt at the end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not in the traditional sense, like I hate your writing! kind of thing. I've had some odd comments that I genuinely think weren't meant to be mean but have made me question some aspects of my writing, and I've learned to take those in stride. I'm also very very lucky to be surrounded by beloved people who have everlasting patience for my huehuehues.

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

Kekekeke. Y E S. I love doing so. I'm not sure I can describe what kind, I'm into so many flavours. The really, really horny kind? *me scrolling through my ao3* Oh wow yes the really, really, really horny kind.

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

I have not! Only AUs at the moment. The craziest AU I've ever thought of was probably an F1 Chainsaw Man AU.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win and Melt Your Aches and Call This Home (a baseball anime fic) translated into Chinese. Reading them has been a delight and a lesson all in one!

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

No, but I am in talks with... some beloved people...

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

All time! Hmm. Hmm! Naruto/Sasuke my og pairing probably. But Martian and Sebmick are right up there too.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Huehuehue. I have a bunch languishing in my drafts at the moment. Rosquez, seb4seb, sebastidan wips are most in danger because my interest in them crests super hard one day and wanes the next. *sees a gif* *is inspired* *sees a gif of something else* *forgets*

16. What are your writing strengths?

Narrative voicing I think? A very clear, defining character arc. I've been told the porn's pretty good too, while being very emotional.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long fic. Ah, geez. There are so many stories in my head that could only be done justice if I had the patience to take my time with it, put in the hours, put in the words, put in the work. But I'm very easily distracted by shiny things unfortunately. I also worry I write the characters the same across fics. Like my Sebs, I worry that he's getting a little too consistent and predictable even in vastly different works.

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

I probably wouldn't, I would worry too much about whether I got the nuances and grammar and structure and voicing right.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Naruto?

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This changes depends on the day you ask. At the moment it's actually my prosenna tumblr fics, which upon every reread I find myself liking more. (The real fave fave fic is something I chatficced with @rosyjuly that I hope will one day see the light of day)

No pressure tagging if you'd like to play! @sebrrari @effervescentdragon @ayceeofspades @loveisworry @wewentcarracing