#still a wip but very happy with how this is turning out so I'm sharing it again

[maud-lin]

ugh. what a freak (affectionate)

[v6quewrlds]

❝ fever, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it's your birthday. mat's horny. nothing new.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: this was supposed to part of a wip that i'm scraping because i hate it 🙂‍↕️🫶🏾. but this scene was tew good for me to throw in the trash so here it is!

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. established relationship, language, sexual content, unprotected sex, penetration, fingering, handjob, description of ejaculation, mathew barzal is a problem.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

The gentle early light of dawn crept through the curtains and scattered across your face. The sound of a distant lawnmower mingled with the song of the morning birds on the easy April morning. Your boyfriend lay next to you, breathing a soft, rhythmic hum in the quiet room. The scent of his minty toothpaste tickled your nose, hinting at his ritualistic morning routine. You felt his warm hand splayed over your waist, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles. The softness of the mattress and the weight of his arm were familiar anchors in an unfamiliar space—his childhood home.

Mat had insisted the two of you stay at his parents' house last night after celebrating the Islanders clinching their playoff spot. The excitement from the game still lingered in the air, a faint buzz of energy that seemed to have seeped into the very fabric of the room. You, however, were in a state of tranquil bliss, your mind floating in a sea of contentment. You had worked tirelessly on your master's thesis for months, and now, it was finally done—the approval email hit your inbox in the middle of the game last night, your supervising professor's praise the sweetest victory of all.

Mat leaned over, his lips brushing your forehead, and whispered, "Happy birthday, gorgeous."

Your cheeks warmed at the realization that you had forgotten to mention it was your birthday to anyone but him. "Thank you, honey," you cooed, still nestled in the warm cocoon of the bed.

Mat's eyes danced with mischief as he suggested, "How about a little birthday surprise to start your day right?" He winked and gestured towards the door, the bathroom just across the hall. Your eyes narrowed, understanding his intent. You glanced at the clock—9:17 AM—his parents were probably downstairs already.

"Mat, seriously?" you whispered, trying to ignore the thrill that danced through you at the thought.

Mat grinned, his teeth flashing white in the morning light. "Come on, babe. Live a little. They won't hear us," he said, his voice low and persuasive. Despite your reservations, the excitement in his voice was infectious. He climbed out of bed, his tall frame moving with a comfortable grace. His hand reached back to you, and you took it, allowing him to pull you out of the covers and into his embrace.

You tiptoed across the cold hardwood floor to the bathroom with shared giggles, Mathew attempting and failing to silence your sneaky amusement. You couldn't help but feel like a teenager again, sneaking out with a forbidden boyfriend. The sound of the shower cranked up to full blast filled the room, and Mat stepped in first, the water cascading over his broad shoulders. He held out his hand for you, and you took it, stepping over the threshold. The heat washed over you, a stark contrast to the coolness of the house. You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close, his warmth seeping into your skin.

Mat's eyes held yours as he whispered sweet birthday nothings into your ear, making your heart flutter against your bare chest, a silver 'M' perched between your breasts. The water streamed down your bodies, melding them together as one. His touch grew firmer, more urgent, as you kissed passionately under the showerhead. Your shyness melted away, replaced by a fiery need that matched his.

Your bodies intertwined, moving in a silent dance of desire. The steam thickened around you, turning the bathroom into a personal sanctuary. Your coils sticking to your back, your usual careful attention to your wash day routines thrown to the wind, a testament to the heat building between you. You both knew the risks—his parents' footsteps echoing below, Liana's room right beside Mat's room—but the excitement of your secret tryst only heightened the intensity of the moment.

You felt the warm water run down your face as you kissed, a perfect excuse to hide the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. Mat's hands roamed your body with the confidence of a man who knew every inch of his lover, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips and the small of your back. He picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he pressed you against the tiled wall, the coolness starkly contrasting your fevered skin. You gasped into his mouth as he entered you, the sensation of his hardness overwhelming your senses.

"Mat," you whispered, a mix of pleasure and nerves in your voice as he carried you in the steamy shower, your bodies moving together in a passionate dance that seemed to have a rhythm all of its own. His eyes searched yours, a silent question that you answered with a nod, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You always had this unspoken understanding, a connection that went deeper than words.

He held you tightly, your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt his muscles tense and release as he moved, the water droplets on his skin gliding onto yours. Your breath hitched as you felt the peak of your climax approaching, your body tightening around him. His kiss grew deeper, his grip stronger, and you knew he felt it too. In the haze of passion, you heard the creak of a floorboard outside the bathroom door, and your eyes shot open. But Mat either didn't hear or didn't care, his focus solely on you, his love and desire a wall against the outside world.

"Do you hear that?" You whispered urgently, your eyes wide as the sound of footsteps grew closer. But he was lost in the moment, the victory of last night's game and the excitement of the day ahead fueling his passion. He kissed you deeper, his hands roaming, and you knew he wasn't going to stop. The floorboards outside the bathroom door creaked again, louder this time, and you clamped your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your whimpers.

Mat looked down at you, a question in his eyes, but you could see the smug satisfaction there too. He knew you were close, and he wasn't going to let anything ruin it.

With a gentle kiss to your neck, he murmured, "Don't worry, baby," his voice was a soothing rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I got you."

He reached for the shower handle and turned the water to a pulsing massage setting, the thunderous beat of the water masking any sounds you might make.

Your movements grew more urgent, the beat of the water punctuating your silent cries of pleasure. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching back as his hips snapped in a particularly rough thrust, his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm gonna come," he hissed, pulling out of you as you whined at the loss of his heat.

He set you down, the cool tile a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and turned you around to face the showerhead. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he towered over you, the water cascading over your shoulders and down your back. You leaned forward, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall, your other hand reaching back to grip his throbbing cock. You felt a thrill of power knowing you could make this strong, elite athlete quiver with need.

Mat's breath hitched as you began to stroke him, your grip firm but gentle. The sound of the shower was a cocoon around you, muffling your breaths and the slick sounds of your skin moving against each other. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his hands slipping around your waist to cup your breasts. You could feel his heart hammering against your spine, his excitement mirroring your own. Mathew pulled your torso up to meet him under the spray of the shower head. Your mouths found each other, kissing fiercely, sharing the taste of mint and passion.

He whimpered against your ear, his straying hand faltering for a moment before finding the front of your body. His fingers slipped down, teasing your clit as you stroked him. Your breath caught in your throat, the pressure building as you felt his thumb rub circles around your swollen nub. The heat from the water and his touch was almost too much to bear.

Mat's breath grew ragged, his eyes squeezed shut as you worked him, your strokes matching the tempo of the water's pulsing beat. He groaned, his body tightening, and you knew he was close. You felt a thrill of excitement, your own climax just a whisper away. You could feel the tremble in his legs as he fought to keep standing, the head of his cock leaking against your hand.

Any discomfort in your spine melted away with the pleasure of his fingers on your bundle of nerves and the sound of his labored breathing and strained whimpers in your ear. You felt yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, your legs quivering slightly. The footsteps outside grew closer, but the anticipation only heightened your passion. Mat's hands left your breasts to hold your hips firmly in place as he thrust into your hand, his breath hot and needy against your neck. You could feel his muscles tensing, his release imminent.

Your hand quickened, your grip tightening just the way he liked it, and suddenly, he was coming, the hot spurts of him hitting your back as he groaned into your shoulder. You stroked him through it, the intimate moment making you feel powerful and loved. Your own climax crashed over you, your body tightening around the emptiness where he had just been, your hand slowing to a stop. You both panted, the only sound in the room save for the steady beat of the shower.

Mat leaned heavily against you, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades, his chest heaving with exertion. You felt a bubble of laughter form in your chest at your shared secret, at the absurdity of your desperate morning tryst. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so free.

The footsteps outside had long ago disappeared, replaced by the comforting sound of the shower. You remained in your embrace, facing each other head-on to delve back into a kiss, the water beating down on your intertwined bodies, the steam a tangible presence in the small space.

As you kissed, you felt Mat's hands slip away from your hips to glide up your body, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing the water out of your eyes, and you realized you had been crying. Tears of joy and release mingled with the shower's flow.

He looked at you with a softness that made your heart swell, whispering, "I love you." You whispered it back, the words a sacred promise, a declaration of your unspoken bond.

You took your time, the water washing away the sweat and the evidence of your love. You felt the soap slowly soothing your over-sensitive skin as you basked in the aftermath. Finally, when the water began to cool, you stepped out, wrapping yourselves in a shared fluffy towel. You placed a shy peck on Mat's shoulder, whispering, "Thank you," your voice hoarse from your passionate whispers. He grinned down at you, his teeth bright and perfect, the same grin that had captured your heart so many months ago.

As you snuck back across the hallway to Mat's room, wrapped in your shared towel, you couldn't help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest. The thrill of your secret rendezvous had you feeling giddy, like you were high on love. Mat's hand squeezed yours gently, a silent reminder of the incredible intimacy you had just shared. You felt your heart beat quicken as you approached the door, the sound of muffled voices from downstairs growing louder.

You dressed quickly, your body still humming with the echoes of pleasure. Mat's playful swats to your ass as you stepped into your underwear only served to fuel the warmth that still lingered between your thighs. He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, shorts, and a t-shirt, his eyes never leaving yours, the smugness clear as he watched you get dressed. The scent of him clung to your skin as you threw on a hoodie and shorts of your own, the fabric whispering over your sensitive skin.

[dangerpronebuddie]

WIP Wednesday!!

Tagged by the wonderful @elvensorceress who shared some AMAZING words y'all should show some love! <3

Still working on my marriage of convenience fic! I had a breakthrough the other night that really moved things along, but alas, I think I need another 1k words or so to call it complete. In the meantime, have some Ravi confusions!

“I gotta say though, I'm surprised you guys remarried,” Ravi continues, because he's always had a big mouth. Somebody had to say it! “But I'm happy for you.” Eddie raises an eyebrow, which really doesn't distract from the blush. Buck's brows are furrowed like Ravi just told him the sky was green or some shit. Like he's lost his mind. And… Wait, why is it Ravi is the one out of his mind? He's not the one in a situationship turned remarriage with his not-ex-ex husband or whatever.  He's getting a headache. “What do you mean remarried?” Eddie asks. Ravi looks between the two, hoping they understand how weird this all is. They keep staring at him like he's the crazy one. Maybe he is. He did rejoin A shift, after all.  “Wait… you weren't divorced?” Ravi asks. The look Eddie gives him is one of utter disgust. More appalled and repulsed than the time they repelled into the sewer for a man who'd dropped his keys down the hole and decided to follow them.  Buck, meanwhile, is very interested in the label of his deodorant.  “Why would you think we were divorced?” Eddie asks, practically spitting out the word.  Ravi flounders, he has no idea how he's the only one who thought this. You try joining A shift when the two guys who are usually partners in everything are suddenly no longer speaking, six months after one almost died. Then live through a shift where the name Tommy Kinard is thrown about between the two more than a baseball in a game of catch. And furthermore try and make sense of their relationship when Buck snarls like a dog any time Ravi is left alone with Eddie, only to bound away the second he makes sure nothing untoward is happening behind his back. “Why wouldn't I?” is what Ravi ends up saying.

(tags below the cut! As always please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@mangonadaeddie @lover-of-mine @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @ronordmann @inell @exhuastedpigeon @keynb @drmellking @rainbow-nerdss @elvensorceress @sofa-king-lame @thegeekcompanion @unlifeira @icebergeddie @diazsdimples @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @misshiss727 @darkrose6578 @wildlife4life @bekkachaos

@thekristen999 @kaseysgirl86-blog @diazheartsbuckley @buddstiel @bibuckbuckgoose @penpatronuswhump @zerokrox-blog @idealuk @lookforanewangle @maraskywalkers @monroemary @eddiedisasterdiaz @joannte @damnitiloveyou @kissyboytroye

@aroqueerfandoms @slowlyfoggydestiny @babydollbuck @savlikesbluengreen @epicbuddieficrecs @whatsgoodinthehood22 @wallywise @eddieswaistisslutty @nonspeakingkiku and anyone else who's interested!!

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (7/18/25) - Sweet

Last week, I broke from my norms and shared darker fics that I loved despite the tags. (Yeah, I know. Compared to lots of stuff out there, my recs are barely gray. Despite formerly "enjoying" films like Un Chien Andalou that literally caused audience members to vomit, my tastes have turned soft. Sue me.)

This week, I make up for it by sharing a small selection of "sweet" fics. What makes them sweet? When I finish them, that's the one-word description I add to my spreadsheet.

Let's start with a fic that for me, epitomizes the theme: Putting the Endearment in Dear (G) by @joyandotherstories. From my spreadsheet: "Aziraphale starts referring to everyone as 'my dear' so he has an excuse to use it for Crowley. Through the Ages. No plot. Sweet. LOVED it! Very emotional. Left me in tears at the end."

Just above it in alphabetical order is Putting the "Bet" in "Betrothed" (T) by @rogue-bard and just as fond a favorite. Aziraphale and Crowley make a bet over who can abstain from miracles the longest. It's as funny as you'd expect. A fine extra are the humans commenting on the action. And yeah, it's sweet.

In Sauntering Through Space and Time (E) by @slurpi13, Crowley uses the excuse of needing to stick close after the Armageddon't to convince Aziraphale to stay in his room while he sleeps. He discovers that he actually sleeps better when the angel is nearby. If you're soft for Aziraphale being tender to a sleeping Crowley, you'll love this one.

When Aziraphale and Crowley return to the bookshop after the Armageddon't, they find Adam has returned nearly everything back to normal. Except now there's a marriage contract on the wall. Slow (T) by write-away/@theirdarkreturning finds Aziraphale rushing forward with the idea of being married while Crowley worries about going too fast. How could it be anything but sweet?

AppleSeeds has written many fics I'd call sweet. But I'm happy to shout out Subtle Escalation (T). Years ago, Crowley published historical fiction about two men (a bookseller and a herbalist) who shared an intimate, asexual bond. He wants to revisit the characters so he offers to write fan fiction for Fandom Trumps Hate and ends up working with Aziraphale. This fic is very meta and so terribly sweet.

The War of the Pie Dish (G) by sodium_aizde/ @sodiumazideandothertoxins is literally as sweet as pie. Crowley moves into a new flat and finds a treat at his door in a beautiful, blue pie dish. Thus begins the "war" in which the pair pass the plate back and forth with new treats. Amazingly, the pair don't meet through most of this fic and it's still achingly sweet.

Let's toss in a WIP from the delightful @on1occasionfork, Thus Saith the Lord (E). After averting the Second Coming, the pair go on a road trip in the Bentley. I've always loved a road trip story. And this one is a fun travelogue. But it got the "sweet" label in chapter 13, “You,” the demon says, his voice rough and so close to Aziraphale that he can feel the movement of lips against his ear. “You are what I enjoy. I enjoy watching you enjoy things. Taking you places that you like. Seeing you indulge. You make me happy.” Did I need to take a moment after reading this (and after typing it into this post)? Maybe.

Next up is a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou (T) by Chash. In 6000 years, the principality Aziraphale and demon Crowley have never met. But Hell wants reality television to stay corrupt. And Heaven wants to protect one of their greatest assets, The Great British Bake-Off. The pair compete against each other on behalf of their home offices. And once they meet? Well, let's just say that it's not just the baked goods that are sweet.

Finally, I just started reading a new fic. I'm not even finished yet and I already know it's going to end up bookmarked as a favorite. I couldn't let this post go live without including it. It's I REALLY FUCKING LOVE YOU (M) by @thisisshiny. Inspired by fan favorite, Flowers for Anthony, this fic finds Crowley waking up dead and confused. The angel in charge of helping him find his final resting place seems to recognize him. So the two work together to figure out the mystery. It's funny. It's a lovely homage to London. And it's so very sweet. Is this list far too short for the theme? Absolutely. There are no shortage of "sweet" fics in the Good Omens fandom. But I gotta, y'know, eat, work, and walk my dog. So it ends here. Which of your favorite "sweet" fics did I miss? Reblog and share links in the comments to give them a shout out. I love getting new recs.

I'll be back next Friday with more great Good Omens fan fics on a new theme. In the meantime, check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations. And if my faves appear to be your faves, check out my bookmarks on AO3--all the fics I rate in my top 10% of everything I've read.

Don't forget to nurture the fan fic community. Share kudos and comments to show the many wonderful creators how much we appreciate them. Writing is a lonely hobby. Let's encourage the hard working writers we love so much.

[mystxmomo]

@mogruith tagged me in another WIP game.

It was a few days ago, but I love these things because it gives me a chance to slip out the things I sit on for long periods of time into the wild a little early.

An art and a design thoughts, because I've been poking at a few things behind the scenes.

A character design I've been sitting on for like a month now, because I need to create a second part of the design (Of which I do not have a bloody fucking idea of the direction I want to go for even in theory)

The character is Enclave's Mentor for her role as a Masked Traitor, specifically within Vhaeraun's church. Enclave was trained as a spy for Lolths church at a young age, but in my heart Vhaeraun and his Chuch have different expectations, prioritizations, and modes of operating for why they're spying. And that's where this character comes in.

With the Traitor design, I want to play with the concept of someone "hiding in plain sight." You know. Masks don't just exist for Vhaeraun, and the idea of a performer hiding their face is not anything new. As such, I want a lot of things in their design to exist with double meaning. The mask being decorated for Lolth, but existing for Vhaeraun. Vhaeraun and Lolth sharing Black Sapphire for their gems, and so they wear that. Ect, ect...

I want to play with the lives courtesans and entertainers historically have lived, paradoxically gaining freedoms a culture generally would not give and heavy expectations, restraints, and responsibilities as a result of doing so. I want to play into the sandbox of what I think that would look like for Lolth-worshiping cultures. (Admittedly, this one doesn't come from anything canon in the books, this is strictly my own brain turning over what I know happens in a lot of real world cultures.)

They're from Guallidurth, and their performances are held in a temple, and equal parts religious ceremony as they are public ceremony, supposedly dedicating it to Lolth. However, when operating strictly within the community of Vhaeraun's church they're a more typical artisan. Being from Guallidurth, the bulk of their experience is in temple architecture.

Main thing I'm not yet happy with when it comes to this part of the design - I think it needs more details on it. While I'm happy with the very restraining dress, they're a performer, so maybe they should have a lot of ornamentation. But I'm still trying to figure out how to implement it... Maybe add an instrument directly to it? More jewelry?

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @everlastingday @henrygrass @nisbanisba @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @carlossreaders

An idea for a future/Jonah fic merged with Ranch Fic which I believed I've shared a bit of before. It won't leave my head. Here is a snippet from a chapter in which Jonah starts preschool and brings home a gift in the form a stomach bug they all get to take their turn with. Look how happy the little guy is with himself.

Thus this snippet is also me jumping aboard the Carlos Sickfic train whoo Niz you're still the captain and the driver I'm just joining the ride for a bit! Warnings for descriptions of nausea and a mention of throwing up but no more than those exact words.

He kind of wants to check in on Jonah and TK, wants to say goodbye to Jonah before he leaves for half the day but his eyelids are already drooping and the nausea still sits on the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he has a small window of time wherein if he just moves very little and goes to sleep soon he might be able to skip the next bout of nausea.

His wish is granted anyway as the bedroom door opens, Jonah entering first along with TK’s voice reminding him to be gentle, TK himself emerging last.

“He wanted to show you the dragon he chose,” TK says as Jonah climbs carefully up the bed to sit next to Carlos.

“Hey Jonah," Carlos says, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pushes Jonah’s bangs away from his forehead. He’s gonna need a haircut again soon. “Did you choose a good one?”

“Look!” Jonah says, pulling at the hem of his shirt and puffing his chest out, proudly showcasing the pink dragon on the front.

“Wow, mijo, that’s a really good choice,” Carlos says, making Jonah beam up at TK at the confirmation that they chose right.

“Are you gonna wear your pajamas to work, Carlos?” Jonah parrots TK from earlier. He does that a lot these days. Sometimes it makes him say weirdly wise things that sound way too adult coming from his four year old voice which always makes Carlos laugh.

“Carlos gets to stay home and sleep some more, because he’s sick, remember? Just like you stayed home when you were sick.”

“Did you throw up?” Jonah asks, turning to Carlos with wide eyes. He looks a mix between concerned and intrigued.

“Yeah, but just like you I’ll feel better again in no time,” Carlos reassures with a out upon smile. He hopes he's right.

“Do you want an ice pop?” Jonah asks, remembering that had made him feel better.

“Maybe later,” Carlos smiles at him. “But that was a nice thought, mijo. Thank you.”

Jonah looks like he’s thinking hard trying to come up with something else that will magically heal Carlos. He’s so sweet and caring, just like his brother. TK interrupts him before he can suggest any more remedies, heartwarming as they are.

“Okay, buddy,” TK says. “Time for breakfast I think, so we can get to preschool on time.”

“Can we make omelets?” Jonah asks, sufficiently distracted. Carlos usually lets him ‘help’ when he makes omelets in the morning and Jonah loves being delegated with small but very important tasks.

TK chuckles. “Sure. I don’t know if I can make them as good as Carlos though,” he says. “You’ll have to ask him for the secret ingredient.”

“What’s the secret ingredient Carlos?” 

Another time Carlos will tell Jonah how to make his favorite omelet, but right now Carlos can’t bear the thought of pronouncing the word of any food related item. “Love,” he says instead, ruffling Jonah’s hair, trying not to show that even the act of lifting his arm feels like a tremendous effort. Jonah frowns for a moment before he giggles like Carlos just said a super silly thing.

“Love? You can’t put love in an omelet Carlos!”

“Sure you can,” Carlos says. “You just have to make the omelet for someone you love and that’s how you put love into it.” He doesn’t know where the spontaneous pocket philosophy comes from and he hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in case the omelet TK and Jonah whip up for some reason isn’t to Jonah’s liking.

Kids don’t think that deep, he tells himself. Jonah will probably have forgotten about it in the time it takes them to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. And besides he fully trusts TK’s abilities when it comes to cooking. 

His jumbled overthinking is interrupted by Jonah making his heart grow two sizes and do a little dance in his chest. “Then we have to make some for Carlos too TK! So we can put love in it!”

Unfortunately his stomach seems inspired by his heart to start matching its little dance routine. Thinking anymore about omelets, let alone one being made for him that he has to eat, isn’t helping. He feels his little window of time starting to close as the nausea begins tauntingly closing back in on him. Luckily TK seems to read it on his face. Or maybe he’s just turning visibly green.

“We’ll make some for him to save for later,” he says. Planting a soft kiss to Carlos forehead he tells him “You should try to finish that glass of water though, if you can. I’ll bring you a new one before we leave.”

Turning back to Jonah he says more loudly, "Now, can you say bye to Carlos so we can let him sleep?” to Carlos he says softly “You look ready to, baby.” 

Carlos only hums in response.

Jonah rises up from his knees on the bed, putting him at eye level with Carlos as he wraps his little arms around his neck. “Bye, Carlos. Feel better,” he says before turning back to TK, putting his arms in the air to be lifted off the bed.

Carlos musters his last energy for a sincere “Bye Jonah. I love you,” But Jonah has apparently already moved on, or rather back to discussing what to put into the omelet, beside love.

“And ham,” he says as TK lifts him under the armpits and sets him back on the floor.

“And cheese!” he says, “And eggs and pepper and-” 

“Okay buddy,” TK interrupts quickly, sending Carlos an apologetic wince before quickly ushering Jonah out of the bedroom, as he keeps listing ingredients. 

Once the door is closed behind them, Carlos takes a few steadying breaths, the nausea thankfully retreating back to the peripherals. Having learned to listen to TK when it comes to medical advice, he sips the water until the glass is almost empty before he gingerly lays down, foregoing his own freshly clean pillowcase in favor of TK’s, and pulling their shared blanket up and over his body. He shifts a little to make himself as comfortable as he can and then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t hear when TK creeps in half an hour later to replace the near empty glass of water, or the front door opening and closing as they leave to drop Jonah off at preschool.

OPEN TAG

And tagging @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter

@bonheur-cafe @ladytessa74 @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom

@rangersoup @theghostofashton @everlastingday @henrygrass

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89

@the-126-family @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh @tailoredshirt

@nisbanisba @nancys-braids @your-catfish-friend @rmd-writes @goldenskykaysani

@captain-gillian @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye

@carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @pimento-playing-hopscotch @firstprince-history-huh @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@never-blooms @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland

I finally made a taglist so lmk if you want to be removed from it or added to it!:)

[drippingmoon]

Remains of a Night | Aberration of Sunlight: Beta stage!

Hello to everyone! I'm super happy and excited to announce that another one of my wips has reached beta stage. It's a series of two books: with Remains of a Night being the first, and Aberration of Sunlight wrapping up the story. Like before, if anyone would like to give a wee fellow writer a hand, I'd beam in gratitude☺ If not -- if you could at least boost this post, that'd be delightfully kindly of you. ❤

Sign-up period: till April 10

Genre: sci-fi horror, taking place on either an icy planet, or in the dead of cosmic space, as we're on the runnnn

Long story long (both books' blurb):

In purple fields of forget-me-nots, a broken helmet rests. It's the Fourth Dive of Procyon.

The Beast of the Deep Night has long turned into a cataclysm. Now it vies to extinguish humanity. The stars are slowly being tugged its way, and one day they will all Dive inside its void maw. This is the current outlook, in the planets' neon nights of bleakness and numbness. Alexander Madigan, police Superintendent of his planet, is definitely not where he should be. But with the world at an end, and a distress call breaking the silence of his office, he decides to investigate the truth behind the cataclysm. Even if that may draw its lambent eye his way.

He doesn't think his life matters more than the young marine's on the other end, who he wishes he could bring home.

Ages before their reality, the crew of another ship does its best to preserve their own lives. Things have become complicated though: with the addition of a new recruit, and while the Beast is merely a cautionary tale in their time, their impression is that it might have just come to their ship. Nor does it bode well that they have the most selfish human on the journey with them.

Word count: 120k, 123k respectively (RoaN and AoS)

Warnings: gore, body horror, suicidal thoughts, ableism (intentional and unintentional)

This all started out of my love for Halo, (if you share it, I salute you!💞) and for the idea of a creature that could hear the whisperings of the universe to it. Boy, were they bloodthirsty.

What am I looking for?

It's an advanced draft, I went ham on the editing!🥳🤣 so if any typos have dodged my attention... (they always do, the little fuckers), I will be super grateful if you found them. Otherwise, the standard; characters, plot, odd phrasing (this isn't 'quiv, so the writing is standardly clear. Still, if there's anything that makes you squint, I want to know). I do have lists of questions for each chapter, but you can opt out of it and comment free style.

Honestly, I just want your direct thoughts, and if there happens to be someone who's an expert on people who have had one arm devoured... that's a sensitivity beta I could use!🤩

Inconsistencies! Orrrr... if something just so feels like it used to have 5 more chapters on it and now it looks like a visitor from another timeline. Whoops.

Your emotions! Let me eat them! What moments stayed with you, and which had you feel particularly meh! More than everything else on this list, this is the most important one to me.🥹

Very preferably, that you read both books. However, it's purely optional.

What can you expect?

Two pretty word documents! We can talk as much or as little as you want. I do enjoy making friends, though🤭

No deadlines. Having been a beta reader myself more than a handful of times, I know how hard it is. Nevertheless, please do make sure you actually want to do this, and genuinely like the sound of this series.🧐 I will expect you to keep me updated about your progress (nothing fancy; once per month), so I know I'm not being ghosted. It goes without saying you can drop it whenever you want! Just inform me. That way, I'm not waiting, and I can move ahead with my baby. And you've something off your conscience. Win-win.

!! Since I've never shared snippets here, you can absolutely ask for a sample two chapters and decide.

That's it! Thanks for eyeballing this post, and I hope to see some of you! I am genuinely curious and excited about your thoughts, and hopefully someone will have the time🤩💞 for the sign-ups, you can contact me in my DMs, or comment here, and I'll reach out to you! Ta-ta, I'm out! Have a great day!

[thewardenisonthecase]

Bloody Meeting

Fenris x Elizabeth Hawke

Summary: Elizabeth Hawke and Fenris haven't spoken much since she became the Champion. That is, until one night, he shows up on her doorstep with a stab wound. A/N: I'll be honest, I didn't like this how this one turn out that much but I need this fic to leave my WIPs. like, even if i dont love it, i need it to be AWAY from my sight whenever i open my documents so i'm posting it. i got stuck on this fic for months and now im finishing it while im sick as hell, i need it to GO. Link to ao3 on the title word count: 1,404

It was a quiet night. 

Elizabeth was awake, writing in her journal about the events of the past day - a meeting with the Knight-Commander, helping Anders with some mage troubles, drinking with Varric, wondering where Isabela was, the usual . Barkspawn lay at her feet, and she could hear his soft snoring. Everyone else had gone to sleep, and for once, things were peaceful. 

A year had gone by since she had become Champion, turning her life upside down. Where once she was just another Ferelden refugee who made something of herself, she was now known by the whole city. Everyday, someone needed something from her and she was happy to oblige, but Maker did she wish things were easier. She wished people didn’t need her as much as they did. 

She looked at her bed. Her cold and empty bed. So many people that looked up to her and yet not one to share a lonely night with. She sighed. There was only one person who-

A loud knocking on her door interrupted her thoughts. 

Barkspawn immediately awoke, standing tall, his ears perked up. At first, she tried to ignore it, but as the banging grew louder and louder, Elizabeth quickly stood up and headed towards the door. 

Groaning, she opened it. “What is t- Fenris?” She said, and gasped as she took a good look at him. He stood there, covered in blood, a hand on his side while he breathed heavily.  “Maker’s breath, what happened to you?” 

Fenris opened his mouth and took a tentative step forwards before collapsing, knees giving in. He would have hit the floor, if Elizabeth hadn’t caught him. “Shit. Bodahn! Orana! I need help.” She called out to the other members of her household as she began to drag Fenris inside her home. She didn’t make it very far - Fenris was heavier than he looked and Elizabeth was not strong enough to carry him up the stairs - opting to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

She moved Fenris’s hand, and saw a deep gash cutting through his armor and his skin. Blood oozed from the wound, and she quickly covered it with her hands. 

“My Lady, what’s happened?” The dwarf asked as he approached them. 

“I need you to go into my room and grab some healing potions. And Orana, go bring me some towels and water.” 

She heard them scurry away and she turned her attention back to Fenris, who had fallen unconscious. Elizabeth had never been a good healer, and since meeting Anders she put less and less care into improving those skills, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she focused, letting her magic flow through her. 

“C’mon, Fenris, wake up.” She said, opening her eyes and looking at him, hoping and praying it would be enough. Elizabeth gulped, her heart beating loudly the longer it took for him to show any sign he was alright. 

“Fenris, please.” She touched his arm, trying to stir him, as a panic settled within her. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him like this. The two of them had been injured in battle and taken a bad fall a lot of times. 

But it was different now, she thought. With all that had happened between the two, there was much she wanted to say. This was the first time in months that they had actually seen each other and if he was about to die here then-

Fenris groaned, and stirred and Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. She removed her hand and noticed the wound had stopped bleeding though the flesh was still open. When Bodahn arrived with a potion in hand, Elizabeth was quick to give it to Fenris. She held this head up as she pressed the vial to his mouth and after a few sips, his skin mended itself back together. 

He was still asleep but there were no other signs of major injury. She breathed a sigh of relief. Maker, if something worse had happened, something beyond her skills…

She looked at her carpet, which was now stained with Fenris’s blood, but it didn’t matter. She and Orana could clean it later. She looked at the dwarf and said “Help me bring him upstairs. I’m not gonna leave him on the floor.” 

. 

Fenris woke up with a groan and a headache, as he sat up on a bed far more comfortable than his own. 

He put a hand on his forehead as he looked around and quickly realized he was in Hawke’s room. 

A fact made more obvious when he saw her standing at the foot of the bed - her bed - with her arms on her hips and a frown on her face. 

“Hawke-”

“How are you feeling?” They both spoke at the same time. 

“My head hurts but it will pass.” He meant to say more but he wasn’t sure what to say. The frown lifted from Elizabeth’s face as she nodded. 

“Good.” She crossed her arms. “Now, care to explain what in the Maker’s name was all that?” 

“Uh…what do you mean?” He scratched the back of his head, as he thought about what to say. 

“Fenris.” She began to walk closer to him. “You show up in my house in the middle of the night, bleeding, and then pass out in front of me without another word.” Elizabeth spoke in a worried tone. “What in the Maker’s name were you doing?” 

Fenris took a deep breath. “I was on a job. I got ambushed and I…came here for help.” 

“Where did this happen?” 

“Lowtown.” 

“Why didn’t you go to Anders, then?” 

He scoffed. “I wasn’t going to go to Anders.” 

“He’s a better healer.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go to him.” 

“Maker.” She said under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Stop being so stubborn!” 

“I don’t understand what your issue is.” 

“Don’t understand-” Elizabeth threw her hands in the air. “My issue is that you and I both know I’m not the person you should come to for healing. What if you had a grave injury? Something that wasn’t fixable with a healing potion? What if I couldn’t stop the bleeding? What if you had-” She stopped herself, but it didn’t take much for Fenris to understand what she meant to say. 

“I apologize.” He said, looking at her. “For upsetting you.” 

“I’m not upset, I’m just…” She rubbed her eyes. “Don’t do this again.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

“Good.” 

An awkward silence stood between them. She was right. Fenris should have gone to the other mage, in fact, he had thought about it. Despite their differences, even he could admit Anders was the better healer of their little group. 

But his feet had dragged him to her house almost on instinct. 

A year had passed, and things were still…weird between them. Fenris didn’t blame her. There was much he wanted to say but the words seemed always stuck on his throat. He wanted to apologize for that night and say he wished he never left. He wanted to say Hawke rarely left his thoughts.

He looked at her left arm, uncovered and heavily scarred from her fight with the Arishok and he wanted to say that that night he had been more worried than ever, when he thought she might die. 

Fenris wanted to say that the real reason he had walked over to her house, bleeding, was because he wanted to see her. Because ever since she became Champion, they barely had time to talk and she became more and more reclusive and he missed his friend. 

Elizabeth was not a good healer, but Fenris knew she wouldn’t let him die. 

Instead, Fenris stood up as she took a step back. 

“I should be on my way.” He said and she nodded.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” 

He moved past her, grabbing his things which she had placed next to her desk. The two walked in silence down the stairs. Barkspawn looked at him with big eyes but stayed put. Fenris chuckled and shook his head, as Elizabeth opened the door for him to leave. 

“Be careful out there, will you?” She said. “And go see Anders in the morning.” 

“I’ll do my best. Thank you, once again.” 

“Of course. Good night.” 

He gave her a stiff nod, and walked back home.

.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging it and leaving a comment, they're extremely appreciated!

[onetiny-inkdropuniverse]

Bit of Binary Stars WIP that I thought was super funny, so I'm sharing here. --

Nico gave Will a sly smile. “What is it with you and needing people to wash your feet because you’re too unconscious?”

Will felt a blush rise in his cheeks. “Uh, I don’t know… I’m reverse Jesus?”

Nico and Lou Ellen cackled.

“In my day,” Nico said between wheezing, “they would have killed you for blasphemy, Will.”

Will, Will noted. He said Will now. 

“I’m sure they would have killed me for blasphemy on several other accounts,” Will retorted, then inadvertently found himself vividly imagining all those accounts (most of which had to do with Nico di Angelo).

Lou Ellen snorted. “Yes, perhaps for your fashion sense.”

“Hey!” Will said, truly offended. “Y’know, Nico and I were actually having a very nice time, but now that you’re here, Lou, both of you have turned on me.”

“It’s funny to me,” Nico said, “that the girls you get along best with are Kayla and Lou, the exact two people who’d tease you the most.”

“Don’t forget about Clarisse,” Lou Ellen pointed out. “I know you haven’t seen much of it, Nico, because she’s in college now, but it’s actually astonishing how willing Will is to be totally humiliated.”

“Good to know,” Nico said with a twinkle in his eyes that made Will’s stomach flip.

“He’s the introvert we adopted,” Lou Ellen continued. “We probably bully him too much, actually.”

Nico smiled. “Well, I’m happy to join in on the committee.” He turned to Will. “What’d you think? Will you be my adopted introvert?”

“I’d rather be your boyfriend,” Will said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I could live with that,” Nico said back with a matching expression.

Lou Ellen made a retching noise. “You two are sickly sweet. C’mon, Nico, let’s tease Will some more on the way downstairs.”

Nico followed Lou Ellen out of the med bay, still grinning mischievously. “Yes, let’s.”

[whatevertheweather]

Hellooooo on this somewhat dreary Sunday. I have been almost completely incapable of writing lately, but this day is more than half over and I'd like to manage at least one (1) thing, so I'm going to throw together a few snippets from the backburner projects that I don't usually share things from. I have a notion that switching it up this way will...realign my brain. Or something.

So here we go, each from a different WIP, in order of how much they've pulled me away from the things I should actually be working on. You'll get three that are reasonably comparable moods and then we're going to switch the tone in rather a jarring way.

Under the cut because not a one of them will be under six sentences.

ONE

“Don’t give me that,” Baz tosses his head. “We talk about this at least weekly.” “We actually talk very deliberately around it,” Agatha corrects with a smirk. “Yes, well, we both know what it is we’re not talking about,” he snaps. It goes very loudly unspoken. No one named, just a tacit understanding that Baz is gone for someone, casual mention of highly specific hypotheticals, and an uptick in the conversation about it when Simon leaves the room. “I’m obsessed with your ex-boyfriend, are you happy? Does it bring you joy to hear me say it?” Agatha heaves a long sigh, her mouth pursed in thought. “It’s actually not as fulfilling as I thought it would be,” she muses, stopping once more while her dog pretends it has any pee left to gift to the local shrubbery. “I’m kind of underwhelmed.” Baz looks up to the sky. “Ever so sorry my problems don’t entertain.” “What problems?” she says. “My ex-boyfriend just sent you a musical love confession. I will bet actual money that you’ve had dreams like this.” “I don’t know what he meant by sending it!”

TWO

As Simon is returning from loitering in the copy room for a change of scenery, he sees on Penny's screen that she's in the middle of responding to an email from Baz.  Simon flips her paper tray off the desk. “Oh, rotten luck!” “Simon!” Penny yelps as she futilely lurches to catch her scattered papers. “Why would you do that?” “Me? I’m over here,” Simon says from her other side, reaching across her station and deleting the drafted email. Penny’s head pops up with another indignant sound for the click of her mouse, but Simon is dropping into his own chair while she’s still bent at the waist in hers, apparently unable to decide whether to figure out what he’s done on her computer or to collect her paperwork. Simon leaves her to it and opens Baz’s email at his station.

THREE

“Snow—” “It’s not—look, it’s not a big deal, we can just ignore it—” “Ignore—?” “It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t even mean anything, it’s fine, like, what’s it even matter, really?” Simon made the mistake of glancing up at Baz again after finally pulling his eyes away. He looked like someone had smacked him in the face with a fly swatter. Or a bolt of lightning. “Nothing has to change.” Baz’s mouth pulled into a snarl as he charged forward a step, but he stopped. His back snapped into position, spine straight and rigid. Simon could see it play out on his face as he drew a line between them, pulled himself back in. “Are you messing with me?” he whispered. “What?” “If you’re messing with me, I will disembowel you.” “Jesus Christ, Baz—” “I will eviscerate you,” he hissed. “Are you messing with me?” Maybe he should say yes.

FOUR

Baz didn’t open his eyes. He kept his hand over his mouth and turned his face into his pillow, tried to choke down the sound building in his chest as Snow knelt beside his bed. Snow’s heart had kicked up to a quicker beat, but his breath was steady. The weight of his hand settled on the blanket, just shy of Baz’s elbow. “What can I do?” he asked. It knocked into something already crooked in Baz’s chest. “You’re—you’re shivering, are you cold?” Baz screwed his eyes up tighter and nodded. “Okay, okay, here—” Simon stood, stepped away, stepped again, shifted beside the bed with a heavy rustle of fabric. “Here.” Baz opened his eyes and shook his head, a breath stuck in his throat as he jerked back from Simon’s blanket, pushed it away. “Okay, hey, okay,” Simon said softly, twisting the blanket around his hand and throwing it to the floor. “There, okay? Okay. Do you—can I—hey, okay, can I just—?” Simon did it slowly, leaning over Baz’s bed with a hand poised between them like he was ready for Baz to lash out, ready to retreat. Baz didn’t, and Simon kept going. Baz didn’t lift his eyes past Simon’s chin when Simon laid down beside him.

That last one is the last one because we're ranking by things that have taken up time recently. If we're going all-time, it should be number one. It is in fact in a WIP sub-folder called "the labyrinth is growing," where it lives in perpetual limbo with five other documents.

Now tags <3

@monbons @forabeatofadrum @artsyunderstudy thank you for the tags today!

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @mooncello @whogaveyoupermission

@cutestkilla @run-for-chamo-miles @iamamythologicalcreature @thewholelemon @rimeswithpurple

@alexalexinii @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold

@bookish-bogwitch @noblecorgi @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife

[the-ellia-west]

INTRO POST!!1!!!!!1!

Hello! I'm Ellia! Welcome to my weird-ass writeblr blog! Here's some things to know about me:

I am an Aspiring author and Devoted Christian Woman. I live in the USA (CDT time zone) I am a minor, and the only other language I know is some very spotty spanish.

I mainly write Fantasy, and I'm working on four main projects (Listed Below)!

I like: Jesus, Bright Colors, People, Writing, Reading, Cats, Music, Warm Weather, Rain, Flowers, Dresses, and my Moots!

I Dislike: The texture of wool, Heavy Lifting, Baked Beans, Sin, Satan, Demons, and the Time Travel Trope

Hey! Pst! Before you continue! I have a side blog! Check out @jakkon-and-rose-topic if you want to read some stuff!

Tags:

Ellia Writes - Any talking or sharing of any aspect of any of my WIPs

Ellia's Construction Company - How I make stuff, tutorials, ect.

Ghost Party - Chatting and geeking out with my friends/Moots

Ellia answers - Answering questions

Ellia's Rambling - Me talking about stuff (a little too much)

Ellia's Haunted house - Any posts that I could slot into my story and character/world building. And my pile of creations (Including shitposts)

Ellia's mind palace - Stuff I'm adding to my mental Library :]

Ghost gardens - Aesthetic Pictures and stuff

Ghost scribbles - Art/Drawing Practice

My Wips:

TCOT - (The Cursed One's Throne) - TCOT is a low fantasy Novel Series I have been working on for 5 years, and I hope to publish in the next year, and the Main Wip I will work on and talk about on this blog (Tags: #elliatcot, #ellia tcot, #ellia's tcot, #the cursed one's throne)

J&R - (Placeholder Title) - High fantasy Adventure with Sass, spunk, and a heck of a lot of conflict (To be turned into a comic one day)

StF - (Steel and Feathers) - StF is a High Fantasy project about a Chosen one And stuff (Tags: #stf, #elliastf, #ellia'sstf, #ellia stf, #ellia stf)

Fallen - (That's the title) - A High Fantasy Romance between a Runaway Noble and a Disgraced (probably Criminal) (Tags: #elliafallen, #ellia'sfallen, #ellia fallen, #ellia's fallen, #rustpearl)

StF Short story Masterpost!

Alkain - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Raavas - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 3.5

Old Pinned post Copy-paste below (followed by my moots)

------------------------------------ Hey there! Hi! You! Tumblr user!

Are you a fan of epic fantasy? Want a story with romance, action, and sassy heroes and villains? How about some good old-fashioned ANGST?

If so, you're in luck! Get ready for the upcoming release of The Cursed One's Throne (TCOT for short), coming... well, eventually!

A story of trauma, war, recovery, trust, and love intertwined with curses, magic, sacrifice, and a few too little hours of sleep. Who needs a release date when you've got me, the very entertaining author, right?

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

Wtf is TCOT?

TCOT sneak Peek

Worldbuilding

Music

TCOT Ships

Post this comes from

✨️Moots✨️💫

@agirlandherquill - HER WORDS ARE ART, GO FOLLOW NOW

@aredeemantagonist - Fun to talk to! AMAZING IDEASSS

@artsandstoriesandstuff - AWESOME ARTIST WITH AMAZINGLY CREATIVE IDEAS, FOLLOW THEM NOW!!!

@bigwipscholar - Yes

@bloodmoonloveletter - Slay

@blue-kyber - READ IT ALL

@corinneglass - Why is she so amazing and sweet?!??!? I do not deserve her 😔

@cosmolumine - Extremely Creative with wonderful ideas you can't help but get hooked on :]

@cybercelestian - I don't talk to her as much as I'd like to, but I live her <333

@darkandstormydolls - AN AMAZING WRITER, Her research on medieval clothing and settings is really cool and useful too! <3

@fantastictrashpolice - I need to talk to her more often too because she is very sweet and wonderful <3

@homelessnerdwrites - Very kind and wonderful, and I don't think I've seen any of her writing yet but she still ROCKS!!!

@i-hate-happy-endings - A wonderful author with FANTASTIC ideas that you all should check out!!

@illarian-rambling - ALL OF HER IDEAS MAKE ME WANT TO SCREAM, I WISH I COULD BE THIS CREATIVE AND WONDERFUL

@lunaeuphternal - A wonderful friend who I don't speak to often but is an amazing person you should check out!

@pastellbg - A Wonderful artist and friend all of you Need to follow!!!! (Slay Queen)

@phoenixradiant - His ideas and writing is amazing and poetic in EVERY SINGLE WORD he chooses

@rivenantiqnerd - YES

@savepoint-has-died - ALSO YES

@sl-vega

@somethingclevermahogony

@sunflowerrosy - Why does she follow me, I am so LAME?!?@?@?

@sunglasses-in-the-bentley - My beloved adopted daughter who deserves all the attention :]]]

@supercimi - A WONDERFUL friend with ALL the Amazing ideas you could wish for

@thecoolerlucky

@thelazywitchphotographer

@thepeculiarbird - Amazing Artist, I deeply admire her every word and movement

@urnumber1star - The author I can only wish to be 😔✊️ Follow Her

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling - THE MOST CREATIVE AND WONDERFUL AND AMAZING IDEAS I THINK I HAVE EVER SEEN

If you made it all the way to the end, have a wonderful day, don't forget to drink water, have a little snack, sleep, take a walk, and Don't forget that I love you :] <3333

[sanguinarysanguinity]

hi, ✨️, 🤲 and 💌 for the ask game :)

My apologies for the long delay on this answer! Life Events (TM) took over for a while there, but I'm starting to get my feet back under me again.

✨️ What’s a fic you’ve posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

I don't have those feelings much, mostly because my body of work has had a very long tail: most days I get a kudos email, and when I scan the list of works kudosed, I quite frequently am reminded of a work I had altogether forgotten existed. Sometimes, too, I'll encounter recs for works I hadn't realized still had a following (but which isn't showing up in my kudos emails, because it's mostly being hit by re-readers now). And then there are the comment emails: infrequent, bolt out of the blue, but quite often on something I didn't realize anyone was still reading anymore!

I do wish I heard about it more when people are talking about a story -- this last week or two I've been wondering if my Holmes stories got mentioned somewhere new, because I've been seeing traffic on them again, and from a number of different readers. But for the most part, I really enjoy this quiet long-tail level of engagement, when I'm minding my own business and pop! a story I'd long forgotten turns out to have made someone recently happy.

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

I like spinning a story. I like spending time with the characters. I like puzzling how to organize my thoughts so the communication with the reader flows smoothly. I like sharing what I wrote today with my cheerleaders.

And, as mentioned above, I like kudos and the thrill of a comment email.

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

@phoenixfalls and I are collaborating for @pod-together again this summer. Last year's creation was such a success we were hesitant to attempt a reprise -- so we're not attempting a reprise! We're writing very much for ourselves, what tickles our own fancies, what brings us joy, what makes us giggle in delight or maliciousness. It's a fun way to work, and of course it's always a great joy to play with Phoenix -- I'm genuinely enjoying writing stuff to pass off to her, and eagerly looking forward to what she passes back.

I expect (hope!) other people will enjoy this project too, or at least parts of it, when the time comes. (It's designed so that a reader can pick and choose the parts that interest them, if they wish.) But it's also wonderfully freeing not to worry about that: we're enjoying ourselves, and that's plenty enough to be going on with for now.

[ladytanithia]

WIP whenever tf

I've had practically nothing in progress writing-wise in ages. Lost my mojo. But I'm trying to get back into a groove. Not happy with how I've done BLP so far, so I'm rewriting it, from the beginning, and incorporating Miranja's journal into it.

However, this scene from Out of the Ashes came up in a conversation the other day, and OotA technically still counts as a WIP, since it's not finished (dammit - NONE of the parts of Miranja's story is truly finished!). So I figured what the hell. It's been a long time since I had any writing to share, and this is one of the best scenes to really show how Miranja's mind works. Not even any sex here. <gasp!>

Tagging friends whose writing I've been enjoying whilst not producing anything myself. @dirty-bosmer @lillxart @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @theoneandonlysemla I hope you enjoy it.

It was just about eight o’clock in the evening when they arrived back in Solitude. Before doing anything else, Miranja went directly to Castle Dour.

Tullius was sitting on the bench in the corner by the enchanting table in the foyer. Miranja had gone straight to the war room looking for him, hadn’t found him, had checked his bedroom, still hadn’t found him, and had backtracked to the front door before he finally spoke to her and drew her attention.

“Looking for me, Auxiliary?”

Surprised, Miranja turned toward the sound of his voice and approached him.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the Jagged Crown. Legate Rikke sent me to deliver it to you.” She handed over the Crown, and Tullius took it and turned it in his hands, examining it with interest as he replied.

“Excellent work, soldier. I have to admit, I had my doubts it even existed. Did you run into any trouble?”

Tears filled Miranja’s eyes, but she kept a stiff upper lip. Teldryn’s hand in the middle of her back certainly helped give her fortitude.

“We lost a lot of good men. I hope it was worth it.” Tullius didn’t need to know that she was also talking about the Stormcloaks who died.

“That’s not for you to decide, soldier. I wouldn’t have sent you in the first place if it wasn’t going to be worth it.”

Miranja’s pride stung at those words, while at the same time, her sense of justice was offended. She was the gods-damned Dragonborn, as well as a Thane in this hold, and she had become largely unaccustomed to people talking down to her. And in her opinion, this stupid war wasn’t worth the loss of ANY people, if you got right down to brass tacks. No one should be dying over what she felt was a deeply personal religious issue. It was tantamount in her mind to killing people for what they did in their own bedrooms.

“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to, General. May I be candid with you, sir?”

“By all means, Auxiliary. Let’s hear it.” There was a challenge in his voice and in the way he jutted out his chin.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t like you very much.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Tullius replied indifferently. He rose and brushed past her to carry the crown into the war room. “I’m not here to win popularity contests. I’m here to keep the Dominion out of Skyrim, and to quell this dissention.”

Miranja followed him, and Teldryn tagged along quietly behind her. “The Dominion is already in Skyrim, whether you want to admit it or not. I pass Thalmor on the road every day taking Stormcloak prisoners to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what to them. The only reason I don’t kill them is that I don’t want a bounty on my own head.”

“Wise choice,” Tullius acknowledged briefly, but added, “Think what you want, Auxiliary. It could be much worse.”

“I’m sure it could. I just want you to know that I think you’re a cold, insensitive…” She hesitated for a moment, searching for a milder word than ‘asshole.’ “…jerk. I wonder if you have a compassionate bone in your body, and if you really care about the people of Skyrim at all.”

Tullius’ face darkened with anger. “Listen up, Auxiliary. I’m here to do a job. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I have family back in Cyrodiil who I love and miss terribly. I’ve been in Skyrim longer than I ever wanted to be. I’m doing what I’m paid to do, what I believe is for the greater good in the long run. I hope that’s also what you’re doing, why you joined the Legion in the first place.”

“Of course it is,” Miranja glowered back. “But I’d like to think I’m going about it in a more personal, compassionate way. I’m not sitting in a fancy castle ordering everyone else around. I’m on the ground, learning about the people and helping them in more ways than just killing Stormcloaks and getting Imperial soldiers killed.”

“Well, good for you,” Tullius replied with overt sarcasm. “Imperial Generals don’t have that luxury. I didn’t get to my station in life by being compassionate.”

“That may be so, General, but it’s obvious you’re not particularly happy. And there’s no reason to take it out on others. You chose your path.”

“And you chose yours when you joined the Legion, Auxiliary. You can either follow orders or take up residence in the Solitude prison. Which will it be?”

She was sick of being addressed as a title. “My name is Miranja. Miranja Laurentius. And I will follow orders, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miranja. We all have to do things we don’t like to bring about things we do like.” He stopped and regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as Miranja stared back with some surprise at his unknowing echoing of her father’s words.

“You said your name was Laurentius?”

“Yes.” She didn’t bother with the ‘sir.’

“Your father was in the Legion, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… sir.” Where was he going with this?

“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now. I worked with your father briefly in Hammerfell some twenty-five years or more ago. I remember him because he had the same bleeding heart and lack of respect that you do.”

“I’m proud of my father and his work for the underprivileged,” Miranja said, jutting out her chin as Tullius had earlier. “And both my father and I give respect where it’s due. We just feel morally compelled to point out injustice regardless of who’s perpetrating it, and that includes the Empire.”

“Well, his soft heart is what kept him from advancing past Captain. He could have been a general himself, if he’d been tougher.”

“My father and I don’t measure success by titles and wealth. We measure our riches and our station in life by the happiness we create and the love we give and receive. My father retired a happy, peaceful man, and he’s still bringing joy to those around him and earning respect for his deeds.”

“Well, that’s a heartwarming story, Auxiliary, and your opinions are duly noted, but it’s time we got back to business.”

Miranja heaved a resigned sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke tiredly. “Very well, sir. What’s next?”

“I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion’s support. This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier, these documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl’s eyes only.”

Yes, yes, she’d overheard the conversation between Rikke and Tullius when she’d first walked into Castle Dour yesterday. “Of course, General. We may not see eye-to-eye, but we are on the same side, and you can trust me. Balgruuf was one of my first friends when I came to Skyrim. I’ll see this gets delivered.”

“You do that,” Tullius replied, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed.”

Once they were outside, Tel whistled – or tried to, and only partially succeeded with the scarf over his face – and shook his head. “Damn, woman, I can’t believe you spoke to a General like that and didn’t end up in the stockade.”

“Speaking your mind isn’t a crime, Tel, and I didn’t disobey any orders. I asked him for permission to be candid, and I also made sure to include ‘with all due respect.’ My father taught me that. I know when I’m within my rights.”

Teldryn chuckled. “I like a woman with cast iron balls. I bet your dick is bigger than his.”

Miranja grinned and blushed with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. They were still standing between the door guards, and there was no way the guards hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but they were wisely keeping their mouths shut. She knew the barracks would be abuzz later, though.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening, boss?”

[604to647]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @ace-turned-confused @mermaidgirl30 😘😘😘

Working on a few things and have been fairly motivated to write recently, which makes me happy 😊

Brandy by the Fire a Frankie Morales x City Girl!Reader cabin fic written for @auteurdelabre's Trope-Off Challenge - I'm so late 😅 There's no smut, but it's fairly fluffy and hey, if you're an anxious girlie (gn) like me, maybe you'll resonate with this reader 🫣

The two of you glide across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes. Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you three days ago, and was considerate enough to ask after you.

Safest with You Epilogue - takes place ~2.5 years after our finale chapter.

Just before your finger is about to press the call button on the panel outside of the closed metal gate, you retract your hand and look up questioningly at Din.

“How many am I allowed to get again?”

Din stares at you for a second to ascertain if you’re kidding and when he sees you’re not, a little panic sets in on his face, “One, pretty bird.  Just one.”

“But…”

“We only made arrangements with the airline for one, baby.”

You pout a little, but you know Din’s right, “Okay. Fine. One.”

And finallyyyyyy... once I finish up these two, I'm going to fully dive into my very first sharing fic, The Detective and The Agent (Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader x Agent Marcus Pike).

I still find writing smut to be fairly difficult so I don't know what I'm doing writing PWP 😅 but 18+ Content (MDNI please) snippet below the cut:

“You okay, baby?” Tim’s grunt is surprisingly tender - despite the heated way he’s currently rutting into you, his priority is always your comfort over his or Marcus’ pleasure.  But when you look back over your shoulder at your detective, nodding with your eyes glazed over and cock drunk giggle on your lips, Tim nearly loses his rhythm, “Seen you suck cock better than that, gorgeous.  Come on, show Marcus what you got.”

I'm toying with the idea that this is an crack/alternative universe version of Tim and Shutterbug 🤔🤔 Would that be too wild?

Haven’t done one of these in a while and of course I’m late with it, sorrry if you’ve been tagged or already posted yours: @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent @baronessvonglitter @jeewrites @ghotifishreads and anyone else who would like to share! Show meeeeeee 😁😁😁

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @lemonlyman-dotcom @welcometololaland @sznofthesticks

@actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @honeybee-taskforce

@strandnreyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @whatsintheboxmh

and @birdclowns🧡

I have a knitting WIP as part of this too - prompted by @actual-sleeping-beauty's share!

But first! This is my first share from the WIP we shall know for now as...Poet Fic! Which is not an AU! Oooh! I started it in November and I've gone HAM on it recently - it's getting to be on the longer side and won't be ready until after the summer (I think).

For context, TK has done a naughty thing lol and Carlos isn't very happy with him:

TK bites his lip, steps forward, releases his hands and slinks them along Carlos' hips, his sweatpants plush and soft over his firm muscles. Carlos goes still. He stands upright and rigid. TK breathes against the back of his neck, travels a finger along the curve of Carlos' waistband, stopping when his fingertip taps the middle of the bow Carlos has made of the drawstring.

“Babe,” Carlos huffs, “What are you doing?”

“What does it feel like I'm doing?”

“Killing me.”

With one skillful hand, TK yanks and undoes him, collapsing the tightly knotted bow like it was nothing. Carlos instinctively pushes his ass back a little, bumping TK's groin. TK feels him keenly through the thin cotton of his pajama pants.

"Do you need help with the tea now?" TK whispers.

"No."

TK slips a hand down inside Carlos’ sweatpants, slow and smooth, slides his pointed forefinger against the not-entirely soft bulge in Carlos’ black Calvin Klein’s. "How about now?"

Carlos shakes his head, seething, turns on his heel and snatches TK by the waist, slamming his mouth against his. "Fuck you," he says into a vicious kiss, "Fuck you. Fuck. You drive me nuts."

Tags and tank top under the cut!:

For a change of pace, here is my tank top, which I'm knitting out of a bunch of colourful cotton I impulse-bought in a sale (hence the back and front being mis-matched. I'm knitting it flat because I felt a bit daunted by trying to do the shaping in the round, but I think this has taught me the basic principles well and I'm excited to try a tank top in the round next time! I'm still very much a beginner, so I'm trying to find entry-level things that are still challenging enough to build up my skills:

Tagging!: @eclectic-sassycoweyes @fallout-mars @literateowl

@kiwichaeng @tellmegoodbye @paperstorm

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @ladytessa74

@rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader

@chaotictarlos @reyesstrand @sugdenlovesdingle

@bonheur-cafe @goodways @herefortarlos

@alrightbuckaroo @vineofroses @orchidscript

@three-drink-amy @nancygillianmvp @safeaswrites

@mikibwrites @basilsunrise @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry

@sanjuwrites @chicgeekgirl89 @never-blooms @fitzherbertssmolder @carlos-tk

If you want to share/ haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[sunny374940]

WIP Wednesday

Tis a Wednesday again. And I have way too many things in my wip folder, so I am inflicting some upon you. Thank you for your cooperation.

I've got two bits in the emmrook honeymoon fic I really like and I'm itching to show them to someone, so here goes:

This first one is Rook attempting to make tea. Surely nothing can go wrong.

He went into the giant kitchen and started looking around for a kettle. It was harder than he expected. Where did Emmrich put it? There was one whole cupboard just for bowls. So. Many. Bowls. He looked inside a drawer out of curiosity and the sheer amount of different forks made him close it again. One type of fork was very much enough for Rook. Why the fuck did Antivans have to have so much weird kitchen… crap. He didn’t even know what to call this one, there was some sort of spigot attached to a glass pot or whatever and what was that for? But it definitely wasn’t anything to boil water in, so he stuffed it right back where it came from.  The next cupboard was full of different sized clay pots and alright, a pot wasn’t a kettle, but he could make do with that. He filled the pot with water and put it on the stove. It was powered by runes or something? Emmrich was so excited about it when they found it that he went on for a whole half hour about the different enchantments that went into making the thing work and Rook just leaned against the counter, enjoying the way his husband was waving his graceful hands around, explaining how the magic had to be manipulated just so to get the right amount of heat without exploding things. And now Rook tried to recall how to make it go. There were some knobs, so he tried turning them, and sure enough, a flame sprung from the stovetop. Not where he put the pot, but that was easily remedied. He let the stove do its thing and went into the pantry to find a snack. He could do with some food after what Emmrich put him through. The pantry was the size of their living room at home. He would definitely have to talk to Lucanis about what a normal house looked like. He didn’t seem to have a clue.

And here is the aftermath of Emmrich revealing he knows shibari (no smut here, just the aftercare). Rook had A Lot of fun.

Rook was floating in a very comfortable haze. He could distantly hear Emmrich speaking. “Darling, can you hear me?” “M-hm.” Emmrich laughed. The sound was very happy. “I take it you enjoyed yourself.” He nodded weakly, making Emmrich laugh again. “Let’s get you out of this, dearest.” Emmrich started untying the ropes that held him together, but there was still no way he could move. His arms were untied from the harness at his chest and laid at his sides. Emmrich unwrapped them, running his fingers over the indentations left by the ropes. It felt nice. The pressure holding his legs bent was suddenly gone and Emmrich straightened them carefully. All that was left was the harness on his torso. “Could you be persuaded to sit up for a moment?” Emmrich asked. Rook shrugged, dragging his shoulders along the rug, but made no move to sit. He wasn’t so sure how to go about that right now. Emmrich took him under the armpits and dragged him up, leaning him against his shoulder. How was he so strong? It felt very good to be here, resting his head in the crook of his neck, and he nuzzled his face against the side of it, drawing a chuckle out of Emmrich. He smelled so nice. “Thank you, darling.” Did he remember how to talk? “I believe you did.” “Okay.”

Hi guys! Got anything you want to share? (I'm being nosy again :D)

@lavender-tea-fling, @spinfins, @mercars-musings, @redheadsramblings, @sorrowsfallallaround, @starfleetteddybear, @pavuslavellan, @bygonesigh