#I will be writing a fic about this if all goes to plan !!

[goatschild]

working on another scogan fic rn! definitely well-liked :) i should have this done by tonight, but at the very latest, this weekend (if all goes well- sometimes writer’s block is a bitch)

then, after that, i have two au’s i plan on writing! one of them is a mainly scogan-centered college au (technically college/highschool just because i want to include some other characters like jubilee) where they have no powers! woag! this is going to be a long story with lots of chapters that i will add to in-between writing other one-shots :p for the other au, i’m thinking a remy/rogue angstfic that takes place in a zombie apocalypse! maybe random, but, i love zombie aus and i think the internet needs more of them- who kind of person would i be if i didn’t supply them?? (and yes, angst is growing on me. im sure the person that replied to my post from a while ago begging me to write more angst will be happy about that lmao)

then, at some point, there will be a remy/logan fic.. because i’ve read some really good fics about that ship recently and i’ve just gotta write it!! and because i am soooo obsessed with gambit :3 also going to do another more intense smut fic about deadclaws/poolverine, which will be a bit gorey and definitely won’t be for everyone. also a spiderman/deadpool fic somewhere, because i love them sm

anyways if ur from ao3 let me know if you have requests or tips! i’m always open to critique :) and also tell me about your favorite gambit ships, if you have any. if you aren’t from ao3 hellow i write sometimes

[gh0stsh4rk]

“There was a wolf in our apartment”

This is my formal request for RCG to write a “The Janitor Mops Twice” style episode where Mac is a werewolf and it’s never explained.

[xenon-demon]

I... have no idea what this is. No that's a lie I know exactly what this is, it's 2.6k of a Frozen AU with Steve as Elsa and Robin as Anna that I wrote in a fugue state after seeing a friend's production of Frozen: The Musical tonight. I have several WIPs I'm supposed to be working on and this is exactly none of them. Bone apple teeth. (Also I'm genuinely unsure if my usual crew of beloved enablers would even WANT to be tagged in this so... for now I'm not doing a taglist, and if I write any more of this AU I'll do one next time 😂)

“Steve!”

At the sound of his name, the Prince — now King, and boy is Robin going to take a while to get used to that — turns his head towards her. Seeing it's Robin, Steve gives his apologies to whatever noble he was talking to and steps away from their conversation. He makes his way over to Robin in just a few short strides, but his eyes flick back and forth between Robin and her new... well. She doesn't really want to think about what Eddie now is to her. In any case, she can already see a questioning frown start to brew on Steve's face, meaning this will be a much harder sell than she expected.

“Robin!” Steve exclaims, his gaze almost immediately sliding over to Eddie and giving him a once-over. He sounds markedly more subdued when he continues, “I see you've... made a friend.”

“Well, I wouldn't say a friend exactly!” Robin laughs, shrill and stilted, and gives Eddie's arm a pointed squeeze when he doesn't immediately join in. Getting the hint, Eddie finally starts laughing along. Hopefully Steve didn't notice her hinting, since she's had her arm wrapped around Eddie's since before she even called him over.

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, and shit does she need to keep this moving.

“This,” Robin announces, using the hand that's not around Eddie's arm to do a quick flourish in the direction of his face, “is Prince Edward of the Kingdom of Forest-Upon-Hills. We met at the ball tonight.”

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” says Eddie, trying his best to show the proper respect and bow as he does so. Robin's death grip on his arm prevents him from getting very far.

“Likewise,” Steve replies, sounding incredibly skeptical of this whole conversation. He then shoots Robin a look, which, rude, but also entirely warranted given what she's about to ask him.

Steeling herself, Robin begins to say, “Prince Edward and I-”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie interrupts her, leaning in a little bit closer to her as he whispers. He's got terrible volume control, however, so she wouldn't know it was meant to be a whisper if she hadn't spent the past two hours talking to him.

“Not one for formalities, Prince Eddie?” Steve asks, the weight of his gaze finally leaving Robin's shoulders for a moment. God, she often wishes her brother was easier to read, but never as strongly as she does right now.

Eddie, meanwhile, straightens up so quickly it's like he's been electrocuted.

“Uh, not particularly, no. They grate on me,” Eddie says. He pauses for a moment, and Robin can see the deliberation on his face before he adds, “Your Majesty.”

“I'm not one for formalities either, Prince Eddie,” Steve says. His mouth twitches into a very small smile. “I prefer Steve.”

There's a pause, then, where Steve and Eddie are locked into some strange stare-down, while Robin looks on in vague exasperation. She's pretty sure she could strip naked and swing from the chandelier in the center of the ballroom and neither of them would take any notice of her. She's about to intervene, actually, because they really do not have time for whatever this is, when Eddie miraculously breaks the spell himself. He blinks a bit, looking away from Steve and back to Robin, face significantly more flushed than it was a minute ago.

“I believe you were saying something to K- to Steve, Princess?” Eddie asks, just about tripping over Steve's new title on instinct before catching himself.

Robin just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. She really is the bravest, most long-suffering warrior in all of Hawkins.

Putting her brave face back on, Robin turns to her brother and says, “Yes I was, thank you Eddie, I was saying that Prince Eddie and I-” and here she falters, because Steve looks back at her and meets her gaze. She swallows, trying to be subtle, and looks very pointedly at Steve's forehead instead of his eyes. She can't do this if she's looking him in the eye.

She takes another half second to compose herself, then rips the band-aid off.

“Prince Eddie and I seek your blessing for our marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Steve says, more like demands, almost choking on nothing. Robin's never seen her brother this off-kilter in her life. He doesn't even try to compose himself at  all before he says, “Robin, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

Robin swallows guiltily, knowing he'll see straight through her if she agrees.

“No. Anything you want to say to me, you can say to both of us,” Robin says, and how her voice stays steady, she doesn't even know. It probably helps that she's still not looking Steve in the eye.

“Robin- I don't-” Steve interrupts himself to run his gloved hands down his face. He pauses for a moment, face completely covered by his hands, and takes a deep sigh. When he removes his hands and starts speaking again, his voice is measured. Calm. Deadly.

“Rob, you can't marry a man you just met,” Steve states. The word man falls heavy off his tongue, and Robin knew she would regret coming out as a lesbian, she just didn't think it would be like this. Squaring herself up for the best performance of her life, Robin begins her improvised speech full of bullshit to convince her brother to let her do this.

Before she can, however, Eddie chimes in with, "You can if it's true love." Steve doesn't even spare Eddie a glance, but his frown does deepen significantly. Shit.

“Steve,” Robin begins, trying very hard to stay calm, “Eddie and I have a connection unlike any I've ever felt before. I lo-love him”—shit, she could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat saying that, and judging by the almost-imperceptible twitch in Steve's eye, he knows too—“and I think it's time I start giving back to the Kingdom of Hawkins.”

“Giving back?” Steve asks, and fuck he's folding his arms across his chest now. “How exactly is this giving back to the kingdom? What you're doing is running headfirst into the first bad decision you can find.”

”I'm a bad decision?” Eddie asks. Both Robin and Steve ignore him.

“No, Steve, I'm giving back by giving the kingdom a new celebration to look forward to after your coronation,” Robin hisses. “A royal wedding is another opportunity to open the castle gates and bring the kingdom together-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, interrupting her. “We are not opening up the castle gates again for a long time.”

“Why not, Steve?” Robin snaps back. “Tonight's been great for the kingdom's morale, it's been great for you to see people and actually socialize-”

“You have no idea what's good for me, Robin,” Steve says, making her stop dead. It hurts, hearing Steve say that like it's obvious and she's stupid for not knowing it already. What hurts more is that it’s true.

Once it's clear Robin won't keep talking, Steve continues, “You asked for my blessing, and I do not give it. I don't approve of this, and if you're doing this in some misguided attempt to make me happy- quite frankly you've gone insane if you think this would make me happy.”

With that, he turns to walk away.

Okay, sure, she has no idea what Steve's whole deal is or why he's always shutting her out, but Robin is sure she knows what will help.

Sure, part of this crazy scheme is the vague idea that if Robin has a picture-perfect capable-of-bearing-children partnership, then Steve will be under less pressure himself to marry someone who can produce an heir. Maybe, with less scrutiny on his personal choices, he'll learn to relax and open up more over time. That idea falls apart pretty quickly, however, as the thought of producing an heir with a man - even one as fun to talk to as Eddie - makes her want to gouge her own eyes out. No, the real reasoning behind Robin's (admittedly insane) plan to marry someone she met two hours ago at her brother's coronation is so she has an ironclad reason for Steve to open the gates again. Sure, ideally it would've been a woman who caught her eye tonight, but she can't be picky. Robin doesn't meet anyone, especially with the castle locked up like it always is, and she has yet to think of something other than a wedding that would convince Steve to open the gates. Then Eddie came along, laughing and flirting (she thinks, at least; Robin's tried to black that part out) and professing his undying true love to her, and this was the best opportunity she was ever going to get.

And she has to convince her brother to open the gates again. Steve's been thriving tonight. He clearly loves the thrum of people, all of them dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves, and he's slowly coming out of his shell with every conversation he has with their subjects. Robin's spent more time talking to her brother tonight than she has in a long, long time. Too long for her to try to quantify it without crying.

Watching her brother turn away from her, the promise of a relationship with him going forward about to slip through her fingers, she knows she has to do something.

“Steve, wait-” Robin says, reaching out for Steve. She grabs him by the hand, feeling the soft cotton of the white gloves he always, always wears.

“Enough, Robin,” Steve says, not even looking back as he yanks his hand out of her grip. She's trying to hold on, though, so she's left holding his glove as Steve pulls his now-bare hand away from her. God, how upsetting is it that it's been years since she saw the back of her own brother's hands?

Steve swears, then, under his breath. Robin almost doesn't hear it; almost.

“Robin, give me my glove.” Steve's not asking; he's demanding. Robin can work with this.

“Not unless you talk to me about why you won't open the gates. Look at how tonight went, it's been so good for you-”

“This isn't up for debate, Robin, give me my glove,” and Steve reaches for it then, but Robin quickly holds the glove up high above her head before he can grab it.

“Why isn't it up for debate? Why do you isolate yourself all the time?” Robin's almost dancing now, twisting and turning as she tries to keep the glove away from Steve's grabbing hands. It doesn't help that he's taller than her, but she's more agile than people think, especially since Steve's in full coronation regalia right now. The material's stiff as a board at the best of times.

“You wouldn't understand, just give me the- ugh!” Steve's stopped trying to grab the glove, instead trying to restrain her and make it easier to grab.

“Maybe I would understand if you'd talk to me instead of shutting me out all the time-” Steve's almost got her in a headlock, but Robin ducks out from underneath it and quickly steps away and out of Steve's reach.

“Robin, that's enough!” Steve shouts, and then several things happen consecutively.

Steve reaches out towards Robin with his right hand, the one missing the glove.

Robin thinks she's going crazy, but- what look like snowflakes shoot out from Steve's hand where he's reached for her.

The crowd, most of whom had turned to look at Steve's shout, gasp, almost in unison.

“I- Steve-” Robin says, not quite sure where to start with the -- actually quite sizable -- pile of snow now on the ballroom floor.

“No,” Steve gasps, and Robin's never heard her brother so distraught. It makes something keen inside her, the sheer anguish in his voice. “No, no no no, this can't be happening, this can't-” Steve reaches up to pull at this hair, but more snow and ice shoots out from his hand as soon as it's pointing towards the ceiling. He flinches away from his own hand, sheer terror on his face, but with every movement Steve makes more and more snow and ice surrounds him. Within a few seconds, there's a wind picking up as well, and it's like a snowstorm is starting to form right there in the castle dining room.

The crowd, originally shocked into silence, starts to move again. Robin hears screaming, people running, shouting from the guards about an evacuation plan, but it's all faint and distorted like she's underwater. All she can focus on right now is Steve, the way his terror is only worsening by the moment.

“Steve, let me help you,” Robin calls over the roar of the crowd and the storm, taking a few steps towards him. She needs to get his attention before getting closer, the last thing she wants to do right now is startle him.

“Stay away from me!” Steve yells, holding up his hands in an instinctive 'stay back' gesture. Yet more ice shoots out towards Robin as he does so. “I’m not safe!”

“I don't care! You're my brother!” Robin shouts back, but Steve doesn't seem to hear her. He's looking down at his hands in horror, then at the waist-high line of ice between the two of them.

Robin somehow knows what he's going to do the moment before he does it.

“Steve!” Robin screams, breaking into a run. Steve's faster than her, always has been, so he makes it to the doors of the ballroom well before she can catch him. It also helps that people, even the guards posted at the doors, part to make room for him whenever he draws near. Seeing Steve push open the ballroom doors just enough to slip through them, Robin yells again, “Steve! Stop!”

“Princess Robin!” Someone crashes into Robin then, nearly sending the two of them flying. (Robin mentally thanks whatever God there may be that she wore pants and not a dress.) After regaining her footing, Robin looks at her assailant to find- oh, it's that guy. The Duke of one of their main trading partners, Tommy something. Haggard? Halfwit? Yeah, something like that.

“Princess Robin,” Tommy Hapless says, bending over with one hand on his knees and the other holding Robin's elbow as he catches his breath. God, Robin does not have time for this. “Princess, you can't- we need guidance. We need someone to... to lead us while the King is... indisposed.”

“I really don't have time for this,” Robin snaps, brushing his hand off her elbow. “Steve's my brother, I have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“I don't think... he's the one who'll be getting hurt,” Tommy Hanger-On says between gasps, quietly, but not so quiet Robin doesn't hear. She makes a point to stomp on his toes as she stalks off towards Eddie, who is doing his best to help people follow the evacuation advice. He looks faintly queasy, and very much like he would rather be literally anywhere else, but he's actually doing a pretty good job of guiding people where the guards want them.

Eddie doesn't notice her coming, so he jumps when Robin grabs him by the shoulder. She turns him around to face her, then grabs him by the other shoulder as well so she's looking him right in the eyes.

“I need to find Steve,” Robin says, not waiting for Eddie to finish whatever question he's opened his mouth to ask before continuing, “Can you take care of the kingdom until we get back?”

Eddie goes pale instantly. “What? I can't-”

“You're a prince, right? I know Forest-Upon-Hills is a pretty small kingdom, but how different can Hawkins really be?” Eddie doesn't look reassured, but Robin cares very little about that right now. She claps him on both shoulders in what she hopes is an encouraging gesture.

She grabs Eddie's hand and thrusts it up into the air, shouting, “Prince Eddie is in charge until I return!”

She then drops his hand before turning and running out into the night, ignoring the chaos behind her and the faint sounds of Eddie's confused protests.

Nothing matters to her now except for finding Steve.

[steelycunt]

an um. snippet. from me. for the first time since. july :-)

[ellalalala]

Made my OC again using this wonderful windswept oc maker :')

[waitineedaname]

Jiang Cheng had a lot on his plate. Political shitshow, balancing the needs of his sect with the needs of newcomers, navigating a new fake-but-also-kind-of-real relationship. He had those problems handled, more or less. The problem he was avoiding, then, was that of Wei Wuxian.

the next instalment of my fake marriage fix-it! the google doc for this fic was titled "wwx doing necromancy in the jiang sect basement"

[cerealmonster15]

i do love sneaking in side ships to fics where they arent the focus but also i think the only reason i have the cater/trey mention in this story was bc i needed a reason to prevent cater from giving silver and kalim more thought out advice kflsjdfklsjd i had to interrupt him and make him LEAVE!!!

[fisherrprince]

idk how it would happen but I imagine ven meeting his younger selves and they’re both so different. But the same. But different

he meets the one stuck in the desert with no memories and immediately almost gets his head cut off, just because — for ease of reading, he’ll refer to himself as Ven and the younger one as Ventus and the youngest one… Little Ven. Look, he never said he was that creative, and they like their name — because he startled him. He doesn’t remember the badlands that well, but he does remember how jumpy it made him. That’s still… there.

anyways he almost gets his head cut off because Ventus hears someone’s big metal shoes behind him and whips around, keyblade in hand, and Ven backs out of the way with his hands up and an eep! and puts a lid on the instinct to summon his own keyblade. Ventus’ face gives away his emotions pretty much instantly, which it doesn’t do so much anymore, but it goes fear-anger-confusion-VERYconfusion-fearagain-curiosity-confusion-bigshowyhuffyface. Like a kitten making itself look bigger. Ven tries to make himself look smaller, or at least non threatening. Or at least not like an evil future version of himself come to end his bloodline here and now. Would you believe he had that irrational fear every once in a while he’d make some kind of dumb mistake and go ah, I hope this doesn’t have universal consequences i feel the repercussions of via someone smarter than me coming to tell me off! which, I mean it’s not The Most irrational. Time travel exists. He’s doing… it(???). Ventus seems to settle somewhere between genuine curiosity and cornered kitten.

“Who are you?”

Wow his voice is higher! It dropped pretty late. Mostly while he was training here, so he never really had the embarrassed-by-voice-cracking thing Aqua told him about with Terra, he was worried about other things. And his hair is so much scruffier, and his skin is dry-looking, he doesn’t remember taking care of himself very well out here. There’s nothing here, really. Has Ventus eaten? Today? Should he have brought the conchas from the kitchen. Is that an open cut on his arm? That’s blood. That’s bad. Ven’s been forgetting to speak and just looking at his younger self which is not helping his nerves, he doesn’t think. “Uh… you? Older you! We’re in a dream, sort of, I think.”

probably not the right thing to say, even though ven’s not sure what WOULD be the right thing to say. That was about the most succinct he could make it. Ventus’ eyes narrow, and he drops the curiosity, and Ven knows what just happened, he thinks this is a test now. It’s absurd enough to not be real, and it must be illusion magic. Ventus spins his keyblade behind him and lowers his stance (still kinda sloppy, the Master was always— Xehanort was always on him about it even though apparently holding a keyblade backwards was fine). “Bullcrap,” he spits.

“Language!” Ven scolds, feeling the spirit of Aqua fill him. Ventus is too nervous to say anything more than “crap” though, which is kind of cute but weird to think about now that he’s still nervous around adults but swears like a sailor around, like, Roxas.

“Either leave me alone or fight!”

“I don’t wanna—“ And then Ventus jabs at him, his patience for the test spent. The faster he passes, the faster he can go sit down and the less of a chance he gets hurt. Ven dodge rolls out of the way once, twice, threefourtimes, getting ten pounds of dust down his shirt. He never liked this feeling. Dust stuck to his skin. Ventus gets more and more frustrated with every miss, starting to make angry growls when he does, and snaps out a strike raid, which misses, and it misses on the way back, but Ven is busy righting himself from where it missed and Ventus gets a heavy slash in right on his knuckles, which stings.

Ven recoils, and Ventus sees the real actual blood on his knuckles and the teeth of Wayward Wind and his eyes blow wide. Almost immediately, he drops his keyblade and backs away, hugging his arms to his chest and turtling in his jacket. “Oh— sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry! I messed up.”

“it’s okay! It’s okay, it’s fine,” Ven reassures him, really really wanting to stop hearing himself over-apologize. He quickly, telegraphing his moves because he knows how bad this could look, summons his keyblade and casts a quick Cure. The wound vanishes, even though it’s gonna leave a bruise anyways. Ven shows his arm. “See? Totally fine.”

Ventus doesn’t move towards him, but un-turtles slightly. His eyes linger on Ven’s hand — fine. Like he said — to the space his, their keyblade was just summoned, the one he’s holding his version of. To his face, which is pretty similar, though Ventus hasn’t looked at himself in a mirror in a while. To his outstretched arm, and the thin scars over it, and his own scrawny arm, dried blood still shiny over a thin but deep cut.

Ven follows his gaze. “Can I see that?” he asks, gently.

Ventus slowly, very deliberately shuffles his way over and gives up his arm to be looked at. Ven takes it — Ventus almost flinches when he touches him, totally real and corporeal and warm and stuff — and once again casts Cure, this time a Curaga just to cover anything he might not be showing him. Ven used to do that, before he knew what he was doing but after he was too floaty to know what he was doing at all, he’d just not tell anyone he was uncomfortable. It felt shaky and bad to verbalize, and it took Terra specifically a long time to teach him that no was a good word and I made a mistake was not the end of the world. Ven’s not gonna be able to teach the younger version of himself that whole thing in a few hours. But y’know — at least he can be nice.

Ventus studies the spot on his arm that he cured. It’s going to scar because he didn’t get to it on time, but he knew that, and Ventus figures that out, his stare moving to the same scar on Ven’s forearm. And the rest of them. Some the same, some came later. He is not, pointedly, removing his arm from Ven’s hands.

Ventus’ voice is tentative and scratchy. “Why’re you here?”

“Um,” Ven says, elegantly. “I’m not sure.”

”That’s dumb,” Ventus huffs.

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ven says, gesturing for his other hand. Ventus hesitates — fear-worry-want, his face is like an open book — and gives it to him, finally desummoning his keyblade. “Do you not know Cure yet?”

Ventus scowls again. “Shouldn’t you remember? No.”

Ven shakes his head. “I don’t remember when we learned it. I thought it was before this.”

“I don’t remember anything before this.” Ventus, despite curling forwards into the touch he’s being given, somehow scowls even deeper.

Ven kneels. “And I don’t remember being so angry,” he says, softly. “We don’t get much better at the memory thing in the future.”

“Oh.” Ventus keeps standing. “Do—“ he bites his lip.

“Do what?”

“Do we… do we get better at — you’re … I’m… mad. I don’t like— You don’t look— Do we— nevermind, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“We get happier,” Ven says, something inside him crumbling. “We do, we get friends, even.”

Ventus’ eyes widen, not looking at him. “Here?”

“No, not here. It… it’s a long story. But I promise it gets better.” Ven doesn’t like looking at this. He spent so long not thinking about it — on purpose, not thinking about it, ever since he woke up in the Land of Departure “thinking about it” was more of a phrase that meant shaky, scattered flashes of memory and sharp copper smells and waking up with his heart in his throat and his muscles trying to scatter out of existence or hearing a metal fixture drop to the floor with a loud clang! and suddenly he couldn’t hear anything except ringing and it was all, an abstract cocktail of not good that he never untangled and avoided like the plague — that… making it real, seeing himself just exist in a terrible place while nothing happens to him like those flashes of memory, it makes it real. And it breaks something inside him, something really small but gummed up because before this he had a layer of detachment from the whole thing, and he almost wants to cry. Ven knows now that he didn’t deserve this and it was stupid and horrible and he should have just had friends who loved him this whole time because it’s possible and he’s a likeable person and he has good to give and love to receive. But Ventus doesn’t know that yet, and he sure won’t believe it until it happens. He remembers not believing it. He remembers thinking it wouldn’t ever get better, and how much better it feels now that it has, and — oh, okay he is crying cool. Ventus looks at him like he’s grown a second head, all confusion and worry and tentative digging inside himself to see what he should do.

“Do… um. Do you want a hug?” Ventus asks nervously.

Ven nods. Ventus’ arms curl around Ven’s back, all thin shaky noodles and no muscles and fewer scars and not used to doing this. Not too hard — he doesn’t want to weird him out — Ven hugs back as best he can. He learned how to give pretty stellar hugs from his friends. He hopes Ventus can feel it.

[libertatias]

finally writing my fic about rafe taking sam to new orleans after bailing him out of prison to see What Happened to nate and sam being equally devastated and infuriated and betrayed by the fact that nate is off living his ~normal life and then having a lot of complicated emotions about how he can't possibly fit into this domestic caricature and how can he possibly convince nate to get back in the game so of course he begrudgingly decides to partner with rafe (all the while intending to bail the second he has a compelling lead bc rafe was always a means to an end)

[sincerely-sofie]

Hey, this might be someone seriously dumb, but I saw the lore about Twig’s name and Grovyle’s lost name and thought of this dumb angst: Grovyle telling Twig (and the others) that he has decided to go by a different name and asking to be called by that. Twig doesn’t really think much about it, but later on finds out it was the name she gave Grovyle back before she lost her memories. There’s the fact that he wouldn’t tell her about that and the miscommunication that causes some issues. This is seriously dumb tho I just wanted to get it off my chest tho. ^^;

Anon when I tell you there's a scene in the fic where it goes much more fluffily but still with oodles of angst I—

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Jam's November Writing Challenge

Goal:

Finishing 4 WIPs

Finishing 3 Showman chapters (bonus points for a forth chapter)

Overview:

WIP 1 "???": ❌️

WIP 2 "???": ❌️

WIP 3 "???": ❌️

WIP 4 "???": ❌️

Chapter 55: ❌️

Chapter 56: ❌️

Chapter 57: ❌️

Bonus Points:

Chapter 58: ❌️

Book fair fic: ❌️

Little surprise: ❌️

Word Count

0 / 50.000

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[ghostywriter]

Being a writer is so hellish because one part of me is like "I wanna expand on this subject in my fic NOW!!!" And the other part of me is like "yeah but you should wait like. 10 chapters to make that anywhere near believable." And then a third part of me is like "actually you probably shouldn't include that at all because it feels off topic" aaaaaaAAAAAAA

[clowndensation]

trying to explain charoum cries during sex like okay so it's not that charoum has never felt an honest emotion, it's that he's just inherently disinterested in contextualizing his emotions in an authentic way, and so the single time he genuinely feels something and is unable to sublimate it into a performance to further an agenda, he immediately gets so overwhelmed by the experience he collapses in on himself and it all ends up leaking out of him.

and it just so happens that this happens while astarion is attempting to seduce him.

so by the time charoum settles back into himself again, and is better able to channel his emotions into something productive, he now has one single core memory of feeling something, genuinely, as himself, with absolutely no ulterior motive behind it. and he links that experience with astarion. which does (un)fortunately link them together tighter than charoum has ever been bound to anyone else in his life. which should be fine for them.

[nexus-nebulae]

at some point i really need to make a huge post compiling all my minecraft headcanons properly

[quynhorlose]

Hi! I saw the ten line game and I wanted to ask about your wips! Could you tell us more about "the hairpin turn" and "any way the wind blows"? Sorry if you've already talked about them, I'm quite new

hello!!! yes i will gladly talk about them and at length! :)

the hairpin turn

it’s titled after a richard siken poem—the one about twins fighting. wolfstar, jegulus, marylily — motogp/motorcycle racing au — sirius and regulus and lily and mary are all racers — james is a sports journalist — remus is a physical therapist (he’s necessary… because of Plot Events that shall remain mysterious). we’ve got brother dynamics! angst! motorcycles! doctor/patient violations! i’m genuinely so excited for this one—ask anyone at all ever. zar and jude have dealt with me talking their ears off about it for a while now. i hope to finish it entirely and then post it as a whole rather than as a wip so i don’t get behind! here’s the synopsis:

any way the wind blows

(this one, if it happens, will be a ways down the line i think). it’s based on the musical hadestown; with jegulus as orpheus and eurydice and wolfstar as hades/persephone (they are extraordinarily fucked up in this one actually)! a real tragedy, 10/10, heartbreaking. it’s sort of on the back burner for now but still very much something i have in the works! here’s a snippet :)