#I have so many wips I promise I’m working on them

[baloooga]

Ghosting

[appreciatingtokrev]

i was looking back on my tumblr drafts which is one of the many places where i write my fics and oh my gOD there is like a little of unfinished pieces that i probably will never touch so here you go have some and if u want the rest of any of these pieces just ask like idk but all of them aren't finished T T

hi taku thank you!! help relatable i have fic bits and pieces i still work on on like.. three apps atm which i really should clean up especially bc i keep forgetting if my notes or google doc version is the more recent one... but i’m also too lazy. anyway. i love these!! i mean i’d read more for all of these but i am especially interested in the kakucho one bc my life desperately needs more kakucho centric fics but sadly very much lacks them. so 👁 also dw abt the fact they’re unfinished there’s an unfinished genshin fic i love to death that hasn’t been updated since june 6th 2021 (don’t ask me why i know this by heart idfk either), and probably won’t ever be updated again, and i managed to survive that so 👍

also lemme comment on the fic bits

- the kakucho fic. first of all kakucho pov that already makes it good thank you. and then ughh. his childhood friend takemichi. izana. his nothing. his everything. T-T

- the bonten restaurant fic just makes me happy bc i think they are happier in this au.... also takemichi being a silly little guy like he should be

- dear saviour, leave me is a bANGER TITLE okay also also it’s pretty sweet rn but i am suspicious 🤨🤨 i can smell the angst. you cannot fool me. no but atm it’s pretty soft which is the balance i needed so thank you. mikey is so cute fr, and draken is lovely istg

- T-T. yeah that’s all i can rlly say about the last one. T-T. /pos

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 3 August 2022

Literally dumping all the presentable works here as promised, whether I’m proud of them or not!

The first image was inspired by a color palette of a random YT playlist thumbnail! I really loved it and wanted to turn it into a cosy travel & rain scene with colorful city lights smeared like dripping wet watercolors. The second one is a KH3 reference! Do you recognise this scene? I don't know how he would possibly end up there in the first place, but he sure is determined to find his dear brother by breaking through the edge of the world!

How to make Ingo smile, step 1: Make him spell "Emmet"! And a goofy cartoon collision moment ahah!

They are very satisfied after a challenging match, win or lose, and they want you to come back for another ride! I love the twins as they appear in Pokémas the most and try to capture the personalities their English VAs give in my art. They are adorable, excitable, cool and very much admirable!

Emmet always wants to look cool, and Ingo surely gives the most heartfelt handshakes! This piece was to celebrate 1K followers on Twitter! The first three months were wild as so many people found my works!! I fondly reminisce that time, not only I was doing well with my first fanart account, I also felt very happy in general! I was so in the zone with art, being super creative free of worries. It's awesome to see most of the people who commented this back then are still posting/in contact with me!! Thank you so much for sticking with me and my little shenanigans!

I still really like these sketches here, love to see this trio having a blast together! The clips are from a movie classic "Singing in the Rain", and below is the final piece:

Doodles~

Early Breakmas AU sketch (Team Break Submas); going full speed after trainers to collect their pokémon... What would you do if these two giant traffic cones approached you at high velocities?

Excadrill & Archeops, the soft & fluffy guys! Some of my first sketches of the submas mons. Excadrill has become my no. 1 submas mon, I adore that tough little missile knight! Archeops is definitely one of the most appealing ones! I love how he kinda has 4 wings he glides with. However I cannot unsee the snake in a parrot suit ahahah, pardon me! Also I pity the poor guy's in-battle idle animation where he has to flap SO HARD just to stay afloat!

Also Durant & Galvantula! I never was a fan of Durant but I've found ways to have fun drawing this little mischievous creature. They're after your ankles nyehehehe~ Galvantula also wasn't appealing to me until submas fever hit but now I think it's a pretty cute beast! I really like how I drew that fur, which is funny because it was that bristly blue fur that didn't strike my fancy back then!

Still enjoying this sketch! Took me some time to read the lines though ahah, the sketch so loose. He's leading a complete opposite life now...

Surprise!!! I held an art raffle on my Twitter account once but I never finished the piece for no good explanation other than getting stuck with the depot agent designs. I wanted to finish this so badly but just couldn't get over that mental block. It still bothers me I couldn't do it!

More KH inspired attempts, this time the stained glass!

Some expressions! Those snouts I draw for them are so silly ahah

Oh yikes, mood shift! The situation is looking dire, is his brother okay?? I like how the pose & water turned out!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway?

Another intense situation, what could this Team Break guy possibly want from him..?! Man, this piece feels so old now but I still like the movie like vibe! That's all just from August!! I was extremely productive back then ahah, it's cool to see how creative and varied stuff I could do!

More and more sketches & WIPs are waiting in the queue! Hope you had fun checking these out!

UPDATE: I had accidentally uploaded some sketches I had already shared in the July 2022 sketchdump so I replaced them with other sketches I had actually forgot I made in August!

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[shibaraki]

🍉 ─ SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA

Hi friends!! I don't know how this will go but I wanted to participate and help contribute a little bit more to the fundraising efforts for Gaza set up by ficsforgaza. I’m taking things slower on the writing front this year so I only have a few to list, some longer than others. Even so, I hope some appeal to you and encourage you to give a donation.

RATE: $1 per 100 words

INSTRUCTIONS: donate to a vetted fundraiser of your choosing, take a screenshot of the donation confirmation (make sure your private information is censored) and send it to me along with the title of whatever WIP you're sponsoring!

Here’s an example:

hi monty! here's proof of my donation to child mohammed and family's gofundme. I'd like this to go toward the wip 'name your courage' :) ty!! [screenshot.png showing evidence of donation states that $5 was given, therefore 500 words will be written for the wip titled 'name your courage']

Upon receiving your ask (I won't be publishing them) I will amend the list below and prioritise progressing that WIP as well as keeping this post updated weekly. Just for clarity: I’ll be submitting redacted evidence I receive to @ficsforgaza to try and ensure that people are not sending those same screenshots to different writers.

TO AVOID BEING OVERWHELMED I HAVE MADE A DONATION WC GOAL FOR EACH WIP❗️Just to be clear—donations go towards progressing a WIP. The sole purpose of this is to encourage donations and spread awareness. Every little bit helps. Even if a fic doesn’t get completed right away I still appreciate your participation and promise to fulfil the WC goals.

🍉 ─ WIPS AVAILABLE:

↳ NAME YOUR COURAGE — BAKUGO KATSUKI #: GN AFAB reader, post canon au, quirkless discrimination, falling in love, social work, worldbuilding, angst + fluff + eventual smut

determined to reach deep inside himself and reconcile the shame that still lingers there, pro hero dynamight publicly aligns with a well-known quirkless charity organization. what he gains is greater than he could’ve imagined.

current wc: 12,932/20,000+ donated (goal) wc: 5,000/5,000 🎊 ☑️

↳ A MANY SPLENDORED THING — KUROO TETSURO #: GN AFAB reader, divorcee kuroo, best friends to lovers, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut + romance

you wonder, not for the first time, why tetsuro could never see what was right in front of him. it was as though the compass of his sharp intuition reversed polarity when you were in the vicinity. you’ve been in love with him since you were sixteen and he’s the one person that never noticed.

current wc: 13,962/20,000+ donated (goal) wc: 5,000/5,000 🎊 ☑️

↳ #HEARTBURN — TODOROKI SHOUTO [COLLAB FIC] #: GN reader, meet-cutes, social media + shipping, reader is a paramedic, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff + humour

who knew your run-ins with the suspiciously accident prone pro-hero shouto would capture the hearts of the general public—or that a bit of harmless flirting could have such inconvenient consequences?

current wc: 2,500/5,000 donated (goal) wc: 2,500/2,500 🎊 ☑️

↳ EMERGENCY CONTACT — AIZAWA SHOUTA #: GN reader, friends to lovers, fluff + humour, sexual tension, reader is an underground hero, adopted eri, getting together

when aizawa gives eri a special card with a number to call if there’s ever a big emergency and no one else is around who can help, he doesn't consider the fact that her idea of an emergency is vastly different from his.

current wc: 1,600/3,000 donated (goal) wc: 2,500/2,500 🎊

↳ THE STAG — OKKOTSU YUUTA [RETURNING WIP!] #: AFAB reader, courtesan au (no curses), courtesan yuuta, reader is a tailor, falling in (forbidden) love, fluff + angst, love letters

your hands were made to embroider, to cut fine silks and sew tales into fabric. from time to time they’ll find themselves touching a courtesans skin. it is only to measure, and never for pleasure.

current wc: 649/? donated (goal) wc: 2,000/2,000 🎊

↳ SOMETHING BORROWED — NANAMI KENTO [EVENT WIP!] #: AFAB GN reader, no curse au, neighbours to lovers, single parent nanami, foster kids yuji + sukuna, fake engagement, pining, getting together

the precious little you know about your neighbor is that he’s handsome, unmarried, and he has two long term foster sons. after the twins panic during an inspection and identify you as nanami’s fiancé, you’re left with the opportunity to learn more. 

current wc: 10,288/? donated (goal) wc: 250/2,000 ☑️

That’s all for now, though there is a possibility that I will add more WIPs later. And let me know if you’ve got any questions (or if I’ve missed anything lol).

It’s totally fine if you can’t donate or if none of these fics appeal to you!! Please feel free to check out the other writers on @ficsforgaza’s page if you’d rather sponsor some different fics, or even make requests to those accepting them ^_^ thank you guys!

HERE’S EVEN MORE WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE, AND DON’T FORGET YOUR DAILY CLICKS!

[alatushours]

☆ LOVE POTION, various — he doesn’t know much about love, but he’ll try his best for you.

contents. featuring xiao, dan heng, and roronoa zoro. gender neutral reader, fluff. xiao + zoro is canon au, dan heng’s is modern! your first date with each of the boys ♡ word count. 537

notes. writing the prompt “love potion” for my own event despite it having been closed for a month LMAO i just need an excuse to write something… anyways uh pls pretend i’m not writing xiao when i said i wouldn’t in a while 🫣 i have a wip for tighnari otw i promise !!!

xiao has never been interested in mortal celebrations. but after meeting you, he can’t help but want to learn more about them. “would you… want to come to the lantern rite with me?”

you were pleasantly surprised when he asked; glad to see that the yaksha was finally coming out of his shell. you laughed, took his hand (which prompted a blushing mess out of him), and led him down to the harbor, where the festivities were already starting.

figuring he still wasn’t too comfortable being around large crowds of mortals, you took him to a secluded spot on a hill by the pavilion, close enough so that you could still see the lanterns that lit up the sky.

“they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” you ask him, following his eyes as he stared at tiny glowing dots fading in the night. xiao nods slowly, seemingly mesmerized by the sight. you smile softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch the fireworks show that followed.

dan heng, being a bit of a bookworm, was a little… socially awkward, to say the least. luckily, you found his quirks entertaining. “there’s a new bookstore that opened across the street… would you be interested?”

so one tuesday afternoon, you meet him by the park, where he stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. you giggle when he awkwardly offers them to you. “of course, why else would you have bought them for?”

making you way to the bookstore, dan heng watches as you stroll down the aisles, picking out some you wanted. he felt his heart swell as he spies his favorite novel in your hand. “i didn’t know you liked that book too…”

the two of you end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the cafe next door, chatting about your favorite books over coffee. he smiles, maybe being a geek isn’t a such bad thing after all.

zoro never quite wanted to leave the sunny when the crew docked on a new island; he preferred to stay behind and take a nap, or train. but you always encouraged him to come along, and he finally decided to go along with it. “i’m gonna go explore… if ‘ya wanna come with.”

there happened to be a small crafts market in the town nearby, so you and zoro (mostly just you) went admiring the handicrafts the stalls had on display. "aww, how lovely!" you admire a little clockwork deer that reminded you a bit of chopper.

then you realized you had some business to attend to in town, so you left zoro behind for a few minutes, saying, "don't you dare get lost while i'm gone!" he stands there awkwardly, before glancing back at the crafts stall. while i'm here...

...and then of course you happen to accidentally encounter the marines, causing you to have to run back to the ship with zoro in tow. when you're finally safe in the crow's nest of the sunny, however... he presented you with the mechanical deer toy from earlier, to your joy. "i don't have that many berries but.. i know you wanted it, so i guess i'll just have to pay nami back later."

end notes. i thought i would write a lot for xiao but i ended up writing more for zoro lmao he’s been taking up all of my brain recently but i hope you enjoyed <3

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 11

Heeyyy...look at that! Another chapter of this story just a scant few days after part 10.

I'm putting this one out first because I finished a chapter for it first and it's always first come first post in this house.

I am little concerned that not putting these out like I should has severely hurt engagement (god I hate that word but it's accurate) for these stories. This one and werewolf Steve didn't even get out of the 50s in the notes. Metal band Steve did a little better I think because it's the Nancy chapters and people were really into those on WIP Wednesdays.

But if you guys don't want to post these let me know, I have dozens of other ideas that are just chomping at the bit to be written.

In this chapter Steve deals with Robin with mixed results.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Eddie found the YOU RULE/YOU SUCK board hilarious. As did most of their friends, only Jeff was on Steve’s side.

“He is sacrificing his dignity for Eddie’s comfort,” Jeff pointed out, “a little appreciation wouldn’t go amiss.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around the pouting Steve. “It just means it’s working.”

“She’s openly mocking me and you guys are having a giggle about it.” Steve didn’t push him off him but he didn’t return the hug either.

The smile slipped off Eddie’s face and he gently lifted Steve’s chin. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you that bad, Stevie. It wasn’t meant to be malicious.”

Steve nodded but didn’t say a word. He pinched his nose and rubbed the end.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie said, leaning down to look up at him. “We’ll stop.” He turned to Brian and Gareth. “Won’t we guys?”

Gareth and Brian shared a glance.

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. “We’re really sorry. It was meant in good fun.”

Gareth let out a sigh. “You know,” he said scratching his chin thoughtfully, “it is a pretty shitty thing for her to do. Like, she’s always so hostile to Steve when we go and get ice cream there. Not to us, just him. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe we’re actually friends with him.”

Brian and Eddie shared a shocked glance.

“Holy shit,” Brian hissed. “I don’t think I ever noticed.” He looked over at Steve. “What did you want us to do, man? Because she shouldn’t be allowed to keep harassing you like that.”

“Oh,” Steve said softly. He hadn’t been expecting them to want to go to bat for him, let alone ask him what he wanted them to do.

Normally Carol and Tommy H. would just retaliate if they did anything at all.

“It’s okay, guys,” he promised. “I just didn’t want to be teased mercilessly for it. She thinks I’m too dim to notice her eye rolls and sneers and then play it up in front of customers when they notice.”

Gareth burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious.”

~

“Harrington!” Robin called out. “There is someone named Henderson out here to see you!”

Steve came barreling out of the back. “Henderson is here?!”

They did their dorky little handshake that left Steve ‘dead’ on the floor. He bounced back up and hugged Dustin tightly.

“Just how many children are you friends with, Harrington?” Robin snarked, leaning back against the counter with haughty expression.

Dustin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen Mike and them?” he asked Steve.

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Dustin just shrugged and looked away. Steve frown deepened and he put his arm around the boy.

“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll make you a banana split and you can tell me about it over ice cream?”

Dustin nodded and went to go sit down.

Steve turned around to see Robin smirking at him. “What’s that look for? It’s my lunch break.”

She rolled her eyes but slid away. Steve shook his head and went about making Dustin’s “Banana Boat” as it was called on their stupid little menu. He got it made but led Dustin out of the shop to one of the tables out in the food court so that the kid could feel like he could talk without judgment.

“So what’s up?” he asked as they slid into booth just across from Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin poked at his ice cream. “The guys were supposed to meet up with me yesterday after I got home and they didn’t.”

Steve felt that like stone sinking into his stomach. He knew what it was like to be ghosted by people you trusted. “Hey, maybe they just forgot. You know what airheads they are without you.”

Dustin snorted, but the mood lightened and Steve counted that as a win.

“Tell me about your camp,” he said. “You must have a lot of fun.”

Dustin lit up and started talking about the camp and all the things he learned. “But the best part was Suzie. She’s from Utah. Dude, she is so hot.”

Steve blinked at the other boy in confusion. There were girls at this nerd camp? “Hot, huh?”

His answering grin was blinding. “Hell, yeah. Even hotter than Phoebe Cates, man.”

Steve knew what the answer to that should be. And before he met Eddie, he would have said it instinctively. But now he wasn’t sure what he was going to tell him. So he just nodded, lips pursed tightly in a thin line.

“Her name is Suzie Bingham,” Dustin barreled on without noticing Steve’s obvious discomfort. “Kissing her is great. Though apparently kissing without teeth is better. Who knew?”

Steve was glad his lips were already pressed into a fine line because he would have burst out laughing. “Yeah, who would have thought.”

“So that co-worker of yours isn’t too hard on the eyes,” Dustin said wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Where the fuck did this kid get lines like that? Jesus H. Christ! Oh. Oh, yeah. Him. He gave Dustin those lines. Before he met Eddie and found out the reason he had to work so hard with girls is that he was gay. Who knew?

“She is not my type,” he answered truthfully. “She’s mean, and a little weird and absolute nerd.”

She was too.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “When are you going to start realizing that high school hierarchy is a bullshit social construct?”

Steve tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Who does that saying remind me of?” He hummed for a moment as the kid glared at him. “Oh I know! Eddie! You know, the guy that befriended me when everyone else abandoned me? That guy! I think I know better than you what is and what isn’t a ‘social construct’, twerp.”

Dustin cocked his head back and forth, sticking his tongue out and making mocking noises. “I’m just saying that you should snap her up before someone else does.”

Not for the first time and certainly not the last, Steve briefly thought about telling this kid his sexuality at least. He wouldn’t even have to bring Eddie into it at all, he could just tell the butthead that he liked men and to leave Robin out of this.

Which he really needed to do, just maybe not in an overly populated mall on a hot day in the height of summer, though.

“Whatever, dude,” Steve said, shaking his head ruefully and rolling his eyes. “Look, I’ve got get back to work. I’ll catch you later.”

~

“Just how many children do you have, Harrington?” Robin asked when he got back. “Because seriously. There are actual hoards of them running around.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Erica is a force of nature that cannot be contained. She comes with her own hoard. I am not responsible for her or friends. They scare me.”

Robin was about to say something mocking, but she had seen that little girl in action and actually secretly agreed with him on that one. “And the others?”

Steve took a deep breath and started counting off on his fingers. “There are the girls, Max and El. El’s dad is super strict about her being about. Max is a recent addition and could out bitch god and I love her for it. Then there’s ‘the Party’,” he put air quotes around ‘the Party’, “Dustin, whom you just met and the other three shitheads trying to get into movies free. Lucas, Mike, and Will.”

“And you are responsible for all of them?” she asked, eyes wide.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “God no, at least not outside of being their babysitter, anyway.”

Robin slid up to the counter and leaned over it. She clasped her hands together and stared at him intently. “You mean to tell me that there are actual honest to God parents that allow you the sole custody of their child for a few hours?”

He rolled his eyes and ignored her, going to the back to clock back in from his lunch.

“Come on, Harrington!” Robin called. “You have to admit it’s hard to believe that King Steve, Keg King, Mr. Big House, No Parents actually watching kids. You know that right?”

Steve threw open the window shutters, and pounded his fist on the counter. “Look, I really don’t care what you think, you’ve obviously got a grudge against me or whatever. We don’t have to like each other or hell, even get along. But can you cut the bullshit, please?”

She opened and closed her mouth, stuttering and stammering, before she nodded.

“Thank you.”

~

When Eddie came to pick Steve up from work, Robin was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve greeted. “Just let me grab my stuff and change. I am sticky all over.”

“Awww,” Eddie cooed. “You look cute in those shorts, Stevie!”

“Oh ha,” he grumbled. “I am coated in every flavor of ice cream, sauce, syrup, and topping we have today. If there was hose back there, I’d spray down my shoes. They’re gross.”

“And I know how much you care about those little blue sneakers of yours,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “Go. Get changed. I’ll be waiting at one of the tables.”

Steve nodded and made his way to the back. As soon as he was gone, Robin looked over her shoulder to make sure Steve had really gone to the back. She hurried over to the table where Eddie had sat down and sat across from him.

“I’ve got to know,” she whispered. “What blackmail does Harrington have on you to make him hang out with him?”

Eddie reared his head back and then tilted it. “You want to say that again? I don’t think I heard you right.”

“Come on, Munson,” she said. “People like us don’t hang around people like him. So what has he got that would make you keep coming back.”

Eddie’s mouth nearly ruined everything by blurting out a big dick! But thankfully he managed to stop himself in time. “I guess that depends on what you mean by people like us.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Poor, nerdy, musicians, freaks and weirdos.”

He forced out a breath and then another. He thought that she was going to say queer in that list and then he really would have opened his big mouth.

“And I know the band teacher forced you to pit for the school musical, Buckley,” Eddie growled. “He fought hard for that part and almost got a bucket of water dumped on him for his troubles. He was at Hellfire’s table during lunch. I know the reason he changed, but have no doubt he has.”

He knocked on the table and stood up. “I won’t say I don’t get the impulse to rag on the guy, but he’s one of ours now.”

Just then Steve came out and Eddie walked out with him without a word to Robin.

~

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina

[hyggetrait]

hi there,

I’m glad you’ve stopped by to read this little note. I have quite a few updates to share. some good, some not so good. but short summary is, I’m happy, healthy, and building! This is a little long, so I apologize. I’ve tried to organize my thoughts as best as I could below.

First, thank you

I’m still flabbergasted that over 3000 of you have pressed that follow button. even crazier when I think about the fact that I’ve only posted less than 50 posts. I feel like I’ve gotten the better end of that deal but I promise to be more present. thank you for following me despite my lack of uploads, thank you for liking, reposting, commenting, and just being so kind. you’re all such a wonderful supportive community.

happy life update

Earlier this year my company downsized significantly and many near and dear people to me were let go. on top of that, a lot of work was piled on to me, so I had to prioritize offline life for a bit. the good thing is, after a crazy couple of months I was able to take time off for some much needed r&r, and as part of that break, I got to go to France to visit some family, enjoy some good food and sip on some delicious wine. but most importantly, i made some wonderful memories with my now fiancé! (surprise!) I’m still letting all soak in but we’re so happy for what the future holds.

now with the personal update out of the way, onto the sims ;

gameplay

I’m so sad to share that the save file with all of my wip was corrupted. thankfully I was able to salvage some builds because I saved to my gallery, but others are forever gone. sadly, the house I built for my growing together family and my tartosa town were collateral. I have an earlier iteration saved of the tartosa town but a lot of my progress is lost. I’m still heartbroken as I had worked so hard on them both, but I promise when inspiration strikes again I’ll try to complete the tartosa town.

the good news is, I’ve started building again. smaller lots these times and boy am I grateful for that. I even started a new house for my growing together household. I have one build I’ll be sharing in the coming days and two more that are nearly done. they are all in brindleton bay, inspired by nantucket and cape cod. think of it as a mini series if you will. I can’t wait to share more!

tray files and downloads

a lot of people have been asking for a while for my tray files. I apologize for the long wait, but I’m finally working on it and I’ll be setting up a free patreon for you guys to easily download!

and that’s all. I’m working on some new formatting/graphics for my future posts, it might change a few times while I figure it out but I hope it’s worth it. Thank you for sticking around, for reading my little note, and for supporting my creations!

see you soon,

nicole 💕

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

Enjoy another snippet of the fic about ghost Robin haunting Jason! I really need to think up a title. Maybe I'll brainstorm some ideas and put out a poll to see what everyone likes.

Part 1 is here

And onto part 2 (1.2k words)!

-----

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised? He adjusted the strap of his backpack to hold it more firmly. Hopefully something he’d brought would be enough and it’d be just a matter of getting Robin alone for a few minutes.

Jazz let go of Danny’s hand to take Jason’s as he led them down a hallway. Robin tightened his grip on Alfred before letting go and giving Danny a sad smile. Both Jason and Robin would point to objects and rooms as they passed. Danny paid extra attention to the items Robin pointed out that Jason ignored: a crack in the wall, a mark that had never been painted over, the chandelier he decided to hang from for a few seconds.

Voices echoed out of one of the upcoming rooms, and Jason slowed. Jazz leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Robin had the opposite reaction and shot a grin at Danny and flew to the doorway, waving him to come inside.

Danny couldn’t help but smile back at his obvious excitement. Jazz caught his expression and narrowed her eyes at him. Oh, she was not going to let this go.

With a deep breath, Jason entered the room, Jazz and Danny right behind him. “Hey everyone, this is Jazz’s brother Danny.”

Inside, too many people were gathered on a collection of chairs and couches. One man was sitting upside down on a chair, his feet on the back cushion and head inches from the ground. He grinned at them and did a flip that somehow ended with him on his feet and halfway across the room in the space of a breath. Robin cartwheeled to him.

“Hey, Danny, I’m Jason’s older brother Dick! Glad you could make it. Jazz says you’re always busy.” He held out his hand to shake, unknowingly passing it right through Robin.

Danny couldn’t help but look at where the arm passed through the ghost, but did have the wherewithal to shake Dick’s hand.

“Dick? You really use that by choice?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think. Embarrassed, he slapped his other hand over his mouth at the same time Jazz hissed a warning at him. “Shit! I mean—”

Only to be cut off by everyone laughing. Dick waved off his apology. “My parents were immigrants and it’s what they called me. After they died, I decided to stick with it. Don’t worry, I’ve heard all the jokes.”

“He’s made most of them, too,” added another black-haired boy. This one looked to be close to Danny’s age. “I’m Tim. We’re glad you could make it. Jazz mentioned you’re usually busy with work?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. But I spent the last few weeks making sure I could get tonight free with minimal chance of interruption.” Not that it worked, his eyes flicked to Robin who was now hugging Bruce Wayne, the only person of the bunch he recognized on sight. And, what was that feeling radiating off Bruce Wayne? It was like liminality, but not quite. Had he died?

“Welcome to my home, Danny,” Bruce Wayne stood and came over to shake his hand with a wide grin on his face. “I’m Bruce and these are my kids.”

“Oi! Don’t call me your kid!” protested a blonde girl. “Hey there, I’m Steph and I’m just here for the food and to give Jason a hard time.” She also felt strange. Not a ghost, but the touch of death lingered. What sort of family had Jazz gotten involved in?

The rest of the group introduced themselves. Both Damian and Cass were liminal as well. So, out of the ten people he’d met tonight, three of them had died and two were as liminal as Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

Completely ignoring the fact that Danny was trying to come to terms with all the death in what was supposed to be a normal rich family, Robin was doing even more antics to get his attention. He greeted Dick just as warmly as he had Bruce and Alfred. Cass, Tim, and Damian were the other three he seemed to like the most, though they didn’t get hugs. He didn’t react at all to Steph or Duke. He sat on Barbara’s lap for a minute, too, before returning to Dick’s side.

No one noticed the ghost desperate for their attention. Not even Jazz.

Barbara took the time to point out where the drinks were located and Danny looked over the selection of pop before grabbing a coke. He closed his eyes at the satisfying sound of the tab opening and sighed at the first taste.

One of the boys laughed and said, “You’re acting like you haven’t had a coke before.”

“Nope. I’m acting like I love coke and haven’t had any pop at all in ages.” He plopped down on a couch next to Jazz who ruffled his hair.

“Have you been traveling that long?”

Danny shrugged. “How long ago was our last phone call?”

“You don’t remember? Last week.”

“Grandpa had me doing favors for him. He dropped me off this morning.”

Jazz huffed in the way that indicated she was very annoyed. But it’s not like Danny could just not do the things Clockwork asked of him. Besides, his most recent trip was fun. He’d gone to another planet! He couldn’t wait until he could tell Jazz all about it.

Jason looked at them curiously. “You’ve never mentioned a grandfather before, Jazz.”

“Oh, he’s not really our grandfather. Just someone who helped Danny out once and decided to stick around. They’ve gotten close over the past few years. He’s fond of me, too, but we don’t have the same relationship.”

“Grandpa’s great. If infuriating at times. But favors for him are always interesting.”

“Next time feel free to invite him,” offered Bruce.

The image of Clockwork in Wayne Manor caused Danny to snort into his coke. “I don’t think he’d fit in here,” was all he said. Though maybe Robin would appreciate another ghostly visitor.

Dick did a cartwheel and landed upside down on an armchair. “What, too uptight for the likes of us?”

The last prank he and Clockwork had played on the Observants played in his mind and he smiled wider. “Not at all. You just come from different worlds.”

“I’ll have you know I grew up on the streets in Crime Alley.”

“I was a circus performer.”

“I was raised a rich kid through and through, but I hardly spend times in the upper echelons of society.”

“My dad’s in prison.”

“I’m a librarian.”

“I’m a foster kid.”

Danny held a hand up and laughed. They were still from different worlds, but he couldn’t explain he meant Earth versus the Infinite Realms. “I get it, I get it. I’ll let him know next time.”

“If he’s still in the area, you should invite him,” said Dick. “Alfred’s food is to die for.” Robin was hanging upside down next to Dick nodding solemnly.

Danny tried to stop himself, he really did. He even managed to keep from saying he’d been there done that, but he couldn’t keep from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

-----

Part 3

And for the tag list!

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

if y’all want fic recs for the Trolls fandom i’ve got so many. like i tend to skew more for the feral stuff but i’ve got variety, i promise lol.

now, idk most of the ppl’s handles here on tumblr since i’m assuming most of these ppl have tumblrs. if your story is on this list and you want me to link to your tumblr, please don’t hesitate to ask i will do so immediately.

also if y’all have fic recs, 👀👀👀 i’d love to see them. links are easiest for me to use, but if you’ve got the name of it and the website it’s on i can manage, probably lol

i’m not reading stuff that’s positive abt Creek tho. i just can’t, i hate him too much. y’all get on w yo bad selves if you do love that disaster gay, it’s just not for me.

recommendations are beneath the cut bc it started getting really long lmao

a “bergens are only in history books” fic— Complete

a what-if of if Clay got the letter about Floyd, instead of John Dory —Complete

the ever-famous “what if JD came back to raise Branch?” AU —Complete

probably my favorite atm? John Dory is Branch’s dad, and the OC that JD is shipped w… it’s so good y’all i can’t even. the first two parts of the series are complete, and the third part is updating regularly.

a “what if Branch AND Poppy were feral” AU this bitch updates like, every day??? idk how tf some of these authors keep up. it’s just about to get to the events of the second movie i think. y’all. it’s so. GOOD.

ok y’all, THIS FIC, GOOD angst. so far it’s a two part series, and the angst. oh man. John Dory has some ISSUES, and he is not dealing with it well. it’s so good. the first part of the series is complete, the second part is updating regularly.

this series is a mashup between The Eldest And The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck AUs. y’all. making me go all-in on the John Dory x Hickory train wtf. i think the first three parts are complete? or almost complete? idk

YALL THIS ONE GIVES ME SUCH LIFE AS AN AUTISTIC PERSON. basically Barb mistakes young grey Branch for a rock troll and accidentally kidnaps him. it’s SO GOOD. also i DO know the tumblr handle for this one! it’s @rocksibblingsau !!!! give them some love this fic is AWESOME. not complete yet, but oh man if you can read WIPs then definitely check this out!

[lisenberry]

WIP Wednesday Thoughts        

Working title:  There’s smoke seeping out of your bloody teeth (but you’re home somehow)

(From 28 by Zach Bryan)

Recovering Price x Recovering Reader

A/N: I have way too many WIPs at the moment, but this one came out of nowhere and I’m wondering if there’s something more here.

It’s a little darker than my usual, but somehow rides the line of more fluff than angst if you can bear with me through the backstory.  I’m also seeing a trend where I love to paint Price as a complete mess and struggling with himself.  I just know he has some Big Repressed Feelings buried deep in that broad chest.  Like, the Captain takes care of everyone else on missions but needs more help than he lets on in the real world.

CW:  Accidental overdose, Addiction/Recovery, Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous, a whiff of PTSD, single parent/recovering addict Reader, written with afab/fem reader in mind, but it came out fairly neutral. Overall heavy subject matter, but with some hope/humor to follow.

John fucked up.  He knows it, Kyle knows it.  And now Kate does, too.

He’d promised his sergeant that he’d lay off the whiskey, but he didn’t tell him about the pills.  The oxys and the benzos.  And sometimes, when things got really bad and he got in a little too deep, the ketamine and fentanyl. 

It was pure luck that Kyle found him.  That he was worried enough to kick the door in, strong enough to pull him out of the bathtub, and quick enough to do CPR until the ambulance arrived with the Narcan. 

He hadn’t meant to end it.  His life, that is.  Just the never-ending pressure in his brain.  The headaches, the sensitivity to light, everything being so bloody fucking loud.  Two decades of explosions, gunshots, and crashes had racked up on him, each one a tithe to be repaid down the line.  And it seemed they’d all come due at once.

In the aftermath, Kate had paid him a visit when he’d been ready to check himself out of the hospital, and she’d given him a directive.  It wasn’t even an ultimatum.  There was no other choice. 

Get help.

She wasn’t kicking him off the team.  She wasn’t even putting a note in his file.  The military wouldn’t know, other than an extended personal leave signed off on by high enough names no one would question it.  A 30-day stay in a doctor-supervised substance abuse treatment facility, and another 60 days at home with weekly check-ins.

Who he told other than Garrick would be up to him.

He agreed, of course.  It was his last chance to get his shit together, maybe even more than he deserved.  The look on Kyle’s face when he regained consciousness would be ingrained on his brain for the rest of his life.

“I always thought it’d be Ghost.  Never you, Captain.”  It wasn’t disappointment that clouded the kid’s eyes with tears, but fear.  That it could happen to any of them if they weren’t careful.  That the danger didn’t end when they came home.

Price hadn’t asked for help, but he knew when to take it.

Which is how he met you...

He tried to attend four to five meetings a week.  They were usually at night, after dark, when the urge to settle into his chair with a bottle of scotch and a few extra Percocets was all he could think about.  When the distractions of the day faded and he was alone with himself. 

If he could hold the urge at bay long enough, in the company of others, even if he just sat and listened, then it would pass like a mad dog thrown a bone.  And then he could go home in peace, until the dog came back around again.

In the beginning, he jumped around to a new meeting each night.  There was St. Stephen’s, St. Giles in the Fields, St. George’s, the Salvation Army, and the Tenant’s Hall.  Some were for beginners, and others just for men.  He didn’t want to become familiar with any particular one, preferring instead to lean on the Anonymous side of the program.

He sipped his tea and ate his biscuits, all from the back row.  Quietly reflecting on the opening speaker, and the stories of hope and struggle that followed.  At first, he found it hard to relate.  Kids who got hooked on drugs in school to escape from abusive parents, or former gang members and dealers looking to buy their way out of poverty and the system that abandoned them.

He’d been born into money, went to good schools.  His demon didn’t come at him until later.  It had taken its time and made roots into an already established foundation.  Like a parasite, it didn’t take him young, or weak.  It took him when he was at his strongest and broke him down from the inside out.  He was already infected long before he saw the signs.

He had no one else to blame, and didn’t think he’d find much sympathy from telling his story.  He didn’t want it, anyway.  He just needed to get through his 60 days and be back on a mission again.

But then one Friday evening, he walked into your regular 7pm meeting in the basement of an old church and everything changed... 

It was the best around, because they had a small children’s area in the next room, with a library and a sweet old nun who would read books and watch the kids for free.  It had become a local favorite for parents without childcare, and the group had grown as close as a family. 

There were a few of you who took the snack duty very seriously.  There were no stale, day-old donuts or flavorless boxed biscuits.  Instead, the spread was enough to rival the set of the Great British Baking Show.  Cakes and puddings, shortbreads and tartes.  The coffee was freshly brewed, not the cheap instant granules.

It had made you very protective, still always a little wary of newcomers, as against the spirit of the program as that was.  It had become your safe space.  Where you brought your children, and shared your biggest regrets and darkest moments.  And mainly because, despite the progress you’d made in your recovery, you’d never fully be able to trust again.  To look at another person and not see a potential threat. 

Outside the church, you knew where the dealers stood waiting to find you on an off day.  Where the pimps lingered in the dark alleys ready to meet you when you were broke and desperate.  They were the obstacles you could see.  Like a video game level you’d failed so many times you could jump and duck and kick your way a little further with each respawn.  You already knew there was a bad guy waiting on the other side of that door and all the tricks to avoid him.

It was harder to tell with the quiet, six-and-a-half-foot tall, bearded man in the beanie hat and combat boots slumped in the back row.  He’d popped up about a week ago, and always arrived exactly five minutes early.  He'd wait patiently until the snack line died down and load his plate before sitting in the same seat, closest to the door.

He hadn’t shared with the group yet, but offered a few pleasant nods and greetings to anyone who’d initiated a conversation.  It seemed rude not to reach out, if for no other reason than to gauge his intentions for yourself.  Was he here because he was serious about his addiction, or was someone forcing him to come?  Some set number of days on his coin before he’d be free from his sentence and never be heard from again.

It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t any of your business.   

But that didn’t stop you from looking over at him a few times during your share, only to find him paying close attention.  His serious features unreadable. Enough to make you stumble on your words and lose your train of thought.  Everyone there knew your story already and could probably recite it for you.  It just helped to recount the good parts, along with the bad.

“Did you make these?” he asked afterward, a rumbling voice breaking through your thoughts as you sat in a folding chair sipping the last of your coffee. 

He held up a half-eaten salted caramel chocolate chip blondie.

“Yes, those are mine,” you answered with what you hoped was a polite smile.

“I thought I saw you bring them last time I was here.  Fucking delicious.”  He popped the rest of it into his mouth, catching the crumbs with his thick dark beard.  “But your hair’s different, isn’t it?” he added, once he’d swallowed his bite.

You reflexively raised a hand to your head, remembering with a laugh the events of your day.  You’d nearly forgotten the fiasco at work a few hours before.

“I work at a training salon.  I let the students experiment on it when there aren’t enough dolls.”  You didn’t have time to fix it before you had to pick up your kids from their afterschool program.

“It’s green.”

“Very green, yes.”  You found yourself smiling again.  Before that, it’d been black with purple tips.  “Who knows what color it will be next time.”  You stood and folded up your chair.

And tried not to read into it as he took it from you promptly and stacked it over with the others.

“Reason enough to come back and find out, then,” he called over his shoulder.

And you didn’t miss when he stopped to grab the last blondie on his way out.

[graceshouldwrite]

4 Ways to Get Back Into Your WIP

You know when you might have taken a long break, worked on other projects, talked to other people about it, and basically did EVERYTHING to get yourself back into it, but it’s not working?

Even though you still want to LIKE your WIP and work on it? 

These tips are based on my own experience dealing with that feeling. I went through something like that for around a year, but now, I’m getting past it and returning to my main WIP more excited than I’ve been for a long time! 

1. List out WHAT you don’t like and fix it

COMMON CORE ISSUES:

Plot + Subplots? 

They might seem too (among other things):

lackluster

complex

unnecessary

confusing

You might not know how to:

develop the plots

make them believable

add the scenes you want without giving the book 800+ pages

choose scenes to cut to fit the word count goal...

Characters?

A BIG ONE: some writers try to force themselves to like X character for whatever reason (e.g. based them on a specific aesthetic, felt forced to add specific rep, etc), but they just DON’T. 

Or, maybe:

you don’t know how to develop your characters

their group dynamic is too difficult to write/doesn’t make a lot of sense

your character voices, personalities, or appearances might not be distinct enough

Prose?

You might:

want to add more humour (prose is too depressing and atmospherically dark)

want to add more gravity (prose is too comedic and romantic)

want to shift from past to present tense, want to tell story from another POV, etc. 

Organization?

OFTEN, the book’s just TOO COMPLEX with all the characters, subplots, etc. and it’s too intimidating to try to sort out all the mess that’s your WIP 

SO…

The lists I gave you are most of the big, common issues. Once they’re sorted into SPECIFIC types of problems, don’t they get less intimidating to look at? 

I know you might think, gee, Grace, these problems will take [insert comically large time frame] to solve. 

Well, if you genuinely want to like your project again and work on it, DO IT.

Slowing down your WIP finish date is worth it if it helps you get back into it. If you never get back into the project, you’ll NEVER FINISH IT. Late > never.

Heck, you might not even be too late—you might find yourself back in the passionate fever you were when you started it, and be in the headspace to write furiously :) 

I think you know how to solve these broken-down problems. Some require more sheer line-editing, while others require big executive decisions (e.g. getting rid of a character or rewriting an entire subplot/the plot). But, it will be worth it when you start to love your project again.

2. Remember why you started it 

Before each project, write a STATEMENT OF PURPOSE at the beginning of your doc to remind you why you’re writing this story in the first place. If you didn’t do this, it’s not too late to start one now! 

It could be something as close to heart as “I want to express how unrequited love feels,” or something as grand as like “I want to write a tragic allegory of the political and economic state of the world that explores human nature” (I am projecting in both of these examples, but you get it). 

Something SPECIFIC is a lot better for this than things like: “I told X this story idea and they liked it,” or “I promised to write this for X,” or “I want to tell this story just cuz.” These latter examples probably won’t fill you with passion. 

3. Listen BEYOND your WIP playlists. Look at images BEYOND your WIP aesthetics 

Many people think revisiting your old playlists / boards help, but that often contributes to the staleness!!!! 

Instead, by purposefully expanding your scope of consumed media, you open yourself up to more inspiration and ideas of where you want to take your project.  New images and new songs will give you new ideas on atmosphere, mood, scenes, and so much more. 

4. Compare your WIP to a similar book you like

You know THAT BOOK that comes to mind whenever someone asks you which book is your favourite/impacted you deeply? Think of how your book will impact readers in the same way. All the emotional turmoil and mental enlightenment That Book gave you is what YOU will give to the readers who resonate with YOUR book one day!

The author of the book you’re thinking about went through drafts, edits, and maybe even wanted to give up at some point, (LIKE YOU!) but pushed through it. Now, their book is on the bestseller list/on a bookshelf/a classic (whatever appeals to you)!  Don’t stop before YOUR book is there, too. 

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

A LOT of this comes from personal experience; I had this mental tussle with my main WIP a while back, so I hope this helps anyone else dealing with the same problem :)

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 15

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: One more day and I'm a homeowner

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slow to a crawl amid the retinue of carts and horses. The sun beams down relentlessly on the summer fields. As you laze in a sheen of sweat, Bryce works to tie a swath of linen over the cart in a makeshift canopy. You thank him for his effort, his own brow slick with sweat as he tugs at his mail. 

“I admit my winter’s hide is not made well for this sun,” he utters as he reaches to pet Daisy, the loyal steed tied to his new one as he rides in step with her. “Let’s hope we might reach the tundra in due time.” 

“Mm, it is rather hot,” you murmur, exhausted from the endless blaze. It’s three days thus far and many more ahead of you. 

“Little maid, cannot complain even when you should,” he tuts. 

The cart rolls on, rocking your body as the hooves clomp down on dusty grass. As the train passes over the lands, they leave a trodden path in their stead. The progress is steady but sluggish. 

The wheels creak and lurch to a halt as Bryce reins in both horses. You sit up and peer ahead, unable to see more than horse tails and overloaded carts, the helms of soldiers shining under the sun. The knight on his dark steed sits up straighter, alert as he leans forward. 

“Eh, maid, keep watch on the mare,” he tosses the reins at you as the royal party comes to a halt. 

His horse kicks up dirty as he gallops around the edge of the train. You watch him bend over the beast’s long neck and hurdle ahead of the clog of vehicles and bodies. Something is amiss. 

You wait, nervous, as other servants cluster together and wonder aloud. Soldiers mill up and down the winding retinue, themselves sharing no more than looks. You climb out of the cart and walk on your cramped legs. You stroke Daisy’s head as she huffs through her nostrils and nuzzles your shoulder. 

“I don’t know either,” you tell her softly. 

The pause stretches on and Bryce returns, his horse in a lather. He swings off and lands solidly on his feet. He looks between you and the grey mare. 

“Some hold-up, nothing to worry for,” he explains, “enough time to find some water for these beasts.” 

He takes Daisy’s reins and hands them to you, “come, there is a river near. I can smell it.” 

You peek ahead and squint. You don’t know that you believe it is nothing though you can’t find a reason to argue. You nod and tug on Daisy’s bit. 

The soldier leads you across the grass, well away from the front of the train. Others disperse to sit in the meadow and chew on their rations. You continue into the trees and the trickle of the promised water has Bryce proudly exclaiming. He weaves his way around the trunks to come upon the bank, putting his dark brown horse to drink. As the larger stallion laps noisily, Daisy lowers her head and patiently gulps up the ripples. 

“Where did you find Chestnut?” you ask. “He must be a castle horse.” 

“Aye, he was locked away in some stall. They said he is vicious. Due to be horse pie.” 

“Horse pie? But he is fast.” 

“They did not lie. He likes to nip,” Bryce warns as you step between the horse, “watch your fingers, mouse.” 

“Perhaps he only did not like being locked up,” you suggest and gently touch the horse’s long mane, working out a tangle in the hair. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Chestnut?” Bryce says, “you’ve given him a name of your own.” 

“You didn’t say if he had one,” you brush your hand over the fine short hairs along the horse’s shoulder. “I thought it suited him.” 

“Mm, I might call his Hellion but Chestnut is kinder, I s’pose.” 

You chuckle. The horse lifts its head and you near the river’s edge. It turns to sniff you and Bryce reaches for your arm. The horse drips water onto you as it sniffs your neck. It lifts its lip, showing its square teeth, then touches its nose to yours, turning back to the water to nicker. 

“Mm, you do have a way of taming the wildest creatures, eh,” he muses as he lets you go. “Come, I saw some berries back in the bush.” 

You leave the horses near the water and follow the soldier between the trees. As he squats to pluck out dark blackberries, you sway on your feet and glance back toward the road. 

“Why have we stopped, sir?” You ask. 

“Told ya, no matter to worry for,” he stands and offers you a handful, “be thankful for it. We’ve found a nice horde and it will do ya good to be out of the sun. And to eat.” 

You accept the bounty and frown. You know he isn’t telling you all but you know he wouldn’t do so without reason. You stand and pick at the berries, biting in hungrily as the juices coat your mouth. The soldier eats as he picks, plucking a few into his purse as well. 

“How do ya like squirrel meat?” He stands again, “I could find us a morsel for the evening fire. Perhaps a hare if I can.” 

“If you like, sir,” you accept. You chew your lip and search the trees. “Is there truly nothing wrong?” 

“I told ya not to worry,” he growls. “So don’t trouble yerself.” 

He beckons you back towards the river. You follow, not asking any more questions. It’s expected that the road won’t be easy, something just feels awry. 

⚔️

The party makes camp at the point of the delay. You return to the road as Bryce grumbles about the evening warmth. The dry heat lingers in the air even as the sun begins its descent. 

“Come, you will need look in on the queen, I’m certain,” he ties the horses to the cart and urges you along. 

You notice less soldiers as you stride through the train. It’s not so crowded as before. The missing bodies add to your uneasiness. Still, the queen’s tent has been erected and guards keep vigil right outside. You enter and find her alone. She has a veil over her hair as she taps the brim of a cup with her fingernail. 

“Alas, a maid!” She snaps as she sees you, “I’ve been calling for wine all night and those damned soldiers only bring me water.” 

“Your highness,” you back out of the tent. The soldiers do not move. 

You go to the luggage and search for a bottle. You grab one and return to the tent. The soldier at your right extends his arm before you can enter. 

“No wine,” he snatches the bottle, “king’s orders.” 

You blanch and look ahead at the silken flap. You nod and thank the soldier as he keeps the wine under his arm. You blow out between your breath and once more push through the draped fabric. 

“Your highness, there is to be no wine. The king has commanded it,” you say meekly. 

“Pardon me? Who are you to refuse me?” She stands and snarls. “My head is on fire, I need wine.” 

“Yes, your highness, but the king--” 

“I am the queen. My order is a good as his. Bring me wine. Now. You little twit.” 

You stare at her unmoving. 

“They won’t allow it, your highness--” 

A flurry of veil and skirts rushes towards you. Before you can react, a scalding heat radiates over your cheek, the force behind the queen’s slap rattling your head. You stagger back and clutch your head between your hands. 

“You stupid girl! I am the queen! You are a dumb maid!” She strikes you again, her hand glancing off your forearm, “stupid stupid twit!” 

She continues to hammer you with blows, closing her fists as she hits your shoulders and stomach. You shrink down, curling into yourself as you keep your head shielded. She huffs, tired from her assault, and twirls away. 

“I don’t want to see you unless you have a bottle in hand,” she snarls and kicks over the stool. “Go before I have you gutted.” 

You wine and stand straight, lip quivering. You turn and hold your left shoulder as it thrums. You step into the night air, aware that the soldiers could no doubt hear the queen’s fit. They say nothing and you don’t either. 

You continue through the train of bodies. You feel your cheek pulsing and your brow swelling. You keep your head down and as you reach the cart, you relieved to find it alone but for the two dozing horses. You climb up and turn towards the wooden wall, hiding against it as you hug the cushion. 

It isn’t so different from Debray, only that you don’t have Merinda to hold you, to share in your pain. You always preferred that it was you who faced the rather of the ladies. You only hope Lady Rezlyn isn’t issuing the same displeasure upon your companion. 

⚔️

The morning comes with the tweeting of birds and a distant rumble. You sit up and look towards the sky. There are no clouds to forewarn a storm. You stare into the horizon where the thunderous noise rolls over the plains. 

You see the figures on their approach. Men on horses. As soldiers rush to confront them, their alarm is eased by the wave of a familiar banner. It is the king and his party. 

Bryce grumbles as Daisy sniffs him and the coughs into his hand. He shakes his head as you lean out of the cart, watching the specks on the tapestry of green grass. You gasp as you feel him grip your wrist. 

“Eh, mouse, what’s happened to ya?” He demands as he pulls your attention back from the distance. 

You look at him and the tenderness in your cheek reminds you of the queen’s wrath. You wiggle free of his grasp and sit back against the side of the wagon. You shake your head. 

“I went to... the bushes to relieve myself, sir. I tripped.” 

He squints at you, his square jaw gritting. He stares daggers at you. You’re not a good liar but you can’t tell him the truth. 

“Tripped?” He echoes as his thick brows furrow. 

“Yes, sir, it was dark,” you say. “I’ll be alright.” 

“Mm, you look as if you were caught by a bear.” 

“Really, sir, I am well,” you put your head down. 

He growls under his breath and turns away. He fiddles around with his saddle bag before he returns to the cart. He reaches over the top, holding a folded cloth with an acrid smell roiling off of it. 

“Put it on ya face,” he demands. “It’ll soothe ya, make you a little less puffy.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You don’t go trippin’ no more. If ya do, ya let me know,” he scowls. 

You nod, sinking into a tense silence. You both know it’s a lie but neither of you will admit it. You put the cloth to your cheek and exhale. It cools your skin though the smell burns your nose. 

⚔️

That night you don’t return to the queen’s tent. Bryce claims there’s no need for it. She needs her sleep, as do you. It’s another lie you won’t call out. 

Several days pass in the cart. Short nights followed by sweltering days. It’s as if there is no end to the road or the heat. 

You sit on your knees, looking ahead as Bryce chews sweet leaves and spits onto the ground. Daisy’s tail sweeps behind her as she keeps a steady trot. You watch the progress with impatience, each moment feeling more and more trapped in the cart. 

“...down in Debray...” you hear a voice drift back. 

“...don’t like traitors, suppose...” another returns and you search over the carts to try to place the speakers. 

“Careful, mouse,” Bryce warns, “you’ll fall under the wheels. 

You sit back and face him, holding onto the side of the cart, “sir, what happened?” 

“What do ya mean? We’ve been riding,” he sniffs. 

“No, days ago, when we stopped. Something... in Debray?” 

He grimaces and spits out the leaves completely. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. 

“Nothing a maid needs worry about,” he girds. 

“I know, sir, my apologies. I’m only curious...” you hang your head, “I... I was raised there, is all.” 

He hums and rocks with the motion of Chestnut’s steps, “skirmish up a ways. Party on their way to the castle. Certainly, you know your former master’s deceit has bought him little good will.” 

“A skirmish?” 

“Ah, so it was, but nothing very dire. The king returned in good spirits, that rat lord—the duke with him,” Bryce explains, “course, it only suits that the lord should see to the defence of his own castle.” He chortles, “shouldn’t tell ya, maid, so ya keeps your lips sealed, but the duke meant to hide in the queen’s tent.” He shakes his head and sighs, “in the Hinterlands, them sortsa lords aren’t lords for long.” 

“Mm,” you purse your lips thoughtfully, “but... but the duke, he helped end the war.” 

“By betraying his kingdom. We didn’t come to conquer; we came to unite. Turns out, there’s more fractures than those between winter and summer. Shoulda know by Yellow Waleran’s deeds.” 

“Yellow?” You wonder. 

“Mouse, it is a lot you needn’t worry for. All I can say is a king isn’t much of one if he don’t keep his word,” he sighs, “any lord or man lacks substance if he melts like ice.”  

You look down and watch Chestnut’s legs. You slant your lips. 

“King Geralt, did he have some agreement with Waleran then?” 

Bryce snorts, “too clever. Promises. Broken promises. Deadly things.” 

You nod and hold your chin, “and King Geralt, he is a good king?” 

“Do you not know by now?” He asks with a smirk, “he is a man who keeps his word. A man who fights for his people, not for gold and a name. No good winter lord would kneel to a man built on coin. Blood, that buys crowns. It buys loyalty.” 

You lower yourself onto your bottom and draw your knees up, “for his people?” 

“You heard him say it, you summer’s blood are one with us now. Once he has his heir, it will all be set in flesh. A prince to join the realm,” Bryce says, “let us hope he comes soon. The king’s done his part, he’s fought his battles, now it is up to your queen to claim her victory.” 

[glossysoap]

WIP ask game <3

tagged by the sweet @gemmahale , @fairyboygenius and @dozeydaisy ! thank you all mwah <3

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs

really tried to narrow down my wips list for this, focusing on actual series/stories rather than just one off requests. if i included all my requests/asks (that i’m still working on, rest assured) we’d be here all day 😅

- empty on call rooms.

price/plus size fem reader -> poly 141/plus size fem reader. “not actually a one night stand” trope as price has no intentions on letting her go. meddling to find where she works and later pulling strings to have her be their medic. surgeon reader. my love child with 🧀 anon, i would tag her but she may be shy, understandably so. she’s so talented! she’s written amazing art for this with a plus size reader and all 🥺 we have a shared pinterest board about it too, it has a bunch of outfit and tattoo insp!

- ready to comply. not abandoned i promise 😅

ghoap/winter soldier reader, masterlist in link above

- limerence.

ex husband price/reader. more extensive concept in link above

- saudade.

childhood best friends/penpals au with ghost/r/soap. ghost and soap are unknowingly sharing a penpal, reader. years pass - reader has become a surgeon and ghost and soap are in the 141, they reconnect. extensive concept in link above.

- bun, gaz.

stalker gaz that hints towards price sharing, but gaz is absolutely the focus.

- streamers luck, gaz.

stalker gaz who stumbles upon streamer reader. in my drafts so far, but it has some dacryphilia, dubcon, noncon, stalking of course, forced moving in, manipulating.

- teach me, series. .

they guide reader through her first experiences. very heavy on body worship and quelling insecurities, servicing readers pleasure. (making this a series with the whole 141, with the sergeants parts being written and posted first.)

absolutely no pressure tagging, like always (tagging way more people than i have WIPs bc i can’t help it): @vgilantee @rememberwren @cordeliawhohung @mikichko @stellewriites @ghastlybirdie @buttdumplin @ghouljams @secretsynthetic @kyletogaz @syoddeye @groguspicklejar @fulltacs @391780 @madstronaut @frudoo @boolger @lordlydragon @all-purpose-dish-soap @eowynstwin @charliemwrites @femalefemur @sqeedledob @bi-writes @gardenthatneversleeps @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts and anyone else who wants to do this <3 if i could tag you all i would 😅

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I'm going to combine my reply to yours on AO3 with this, but yes, I 100% get it. People can be so rude and unappreciative and I know it's usually not on purpose but it can still be grating. Not very demure, not very mindful 😓

This is a really young fandom (not just in age specifically, but in fandom experience) and I try to remind myself of that all the time. I'm in a place now where I just scroll past in my inbox and barely take in comments like that, but I get how disappointing it can be. We work really hard on these pieces and they genuinely take a lot of our time and energy we could spend doing other things (I haven't read a book in months), so getting responses like that on a labour of love is so grating.

I feel so awkward as a writer who gets it even phrasing "I'd love to see more" in comments. It's very: I want this person to know I loved it so much I want to see more of it, but also: I don't want this person to feel pressured to do it just because I love it, I just want them to know. Even when I commented, I had in the back of my mind how many WIPs you were working on and how stressful that can be holding all of that in your head, but I don't think normal people realise.

It's like you have a million things to do but you've spent all day baking a triple layer cake with filling and frosting and all the toppings and you're exhausted and your feet hurt but you're eagerly watching someone eat the first slice...and they say "nice! have you got any biscuits?" and you're just like???

@justallihere and I always talk about starting a fandom podcast to talk about things like this and educate people and honestly, I think the world needs it. People treat writers like TikTok content creators and that's just not how it works over here.

(Also, I promise we're not girlbossing it, we're bullshitting our way through every minute of every day)

I'm annoyed that this has ruined the excitement of posting a new work for you, you should be able to bask in our shared joy after gifting us something like this. I really loved the work, truly and I can understand the lack of inclination to continue it given the little worldbuilding we've been shown. It certainly doesn't make canon-adjacent fic easy. Love that you don't like Brennan though, or have any desire to write him. He's dodgy as fuck.

As a writer, you can only write what you want to write. If you're not enthusiastic about it or inspired by it, it either won't be written at all, or the magic won't be there. If you can see where it goes but you don't want to write it then you shouldn't.

I'm so grateful for you taking on the prompt in the first place, it was a wonderful gift and the pair of them were everything I could have hoped for—Violet being her prickly self and Xaden still being a self-assured casanova? Delicious. Plus, we love a fic where Violet gets eaten out in the wilderness 😉 Welcome to the club! Should we create a 'cunnilingus in the wilderness' tag for this fandom?

You put so much thought into this whole world and it's absolutely, truly appreciated by those who matter and understand how hard the process is and what a gift it is—thank you, thank you, thank you! 🙏

Amy!!! You are so lovely, thank YOU. I get you 100000% and I didn’t feel pressured by you whatsoever. I definitely agree that people who aren’t writers just don’t get it. I got a comment this morning that was like I’d read 200k more of this, and it’s like, someone has to WRITE 200k more of it then. Two hundred thousand words are not going to fall out of the sky just because you’d like to read them. But I digress!!! There’s been a lot of joy in it too, especially in discussing the backstory with everyone. If you and Alli had a podcast I think I would go a little insane!

I personally am just not huge on writing Brennan when he’s alive because he makes NO SENSE. I feel slightly similar about the Fen & Xaden dynamic. I just prefer to write him being dead for that reason.

Again, I’m so so SO glad you specifically enjoyed the fic!! I thought about you a lot while writing it, so I’m glad that paid off.

Cunnilingus In The Wildnerness Tag!!! Absolutely. I am honored to join the club .

This made me very happy, and definitely helped me feel better about things + my reaction to them. Thank you.