#another fic that I may or may not finish

[writeouswriter]

The curse has lifted (finally wrote more than like 10 words on something)

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Just some kids

[zukkaoru]

❤️‍🩹 i want your dreary mondays ❤️‍🩹

It’s far from the picture-perfect ideal life Kunikida had planned out for himself, but…he’s realized that you cannot plan for everything. You cannot anticipate every attack, and just because life doesn’t turn out looking like you expected doesn’t mean you can’t find happiness anyways. He took both his own life and Yosano’s ability to heal for granted, and now he’s suffering permanent consequences. But he also has support from people who understand.

kunikida has a bad pain day, and his partners take care of him

❤️‍🩹 2.7k words || kunichuuzai hurt/comfort + fluff ❤️‍🩹 written for pamper kunikida week 2024 on twt

[bbb-bbbbbbb]

Am I real or someone else's dream? Flying eccentric circles 'till I scream.

Fanart for the fic Daisy, Daisy. Another version under the cut

[theminecraftbee]

Joe had tried to write a will once.

Well, more accurately, he’d tried to make Cleo write one. After all, she had appropriate custody over an entire ship full of ghost sailors that season! If she’d inconveniently died, it would have been irresponsible to leave her armor stands to figure out what to do with the disaster that had resulted. Simply irresponsible, not to have a will.

Cleo had laughed at him. “Joe, I’m already dead. I’m not sure zombies can legally have wills.”

He’d huffed back. “Zombies can be responsible with what to do after they depart this plane the same as everyone else. Or, the second time they depart? You may have a point on the legality of the matter...”

He’d ended up half writing one too. To be honest, even as they both updated it season-to-season, Joe rarely had much he wasn’t willing to leave behind or loose. Oh, sure, he was terrible at letting go. One of the last through to the next world at the end of most seasons, in fact, too many projects still in the works, too many irons still in the fire. But not being willing to let go and not being willing to lose - those are two different things, now aren’t they? So, honestly, not much in his will. Normally, just who would take custody of any pets he’d picked up. (It was Cleo, and then normally either Xisuma or Scar if she couldn’t, depending on the pet and the year.)

He’d written it in rhyme this season, he thinks, standing alone in front of the spawn egg. Well, as fitting as everything else - no one will be around to execute it.

...and no one will have to. After all, Cleo had, after much cajoling, written hers in rhyme too, and he’s the executor. So, clearly, he can’t die, because that would put Cleo in real trouble if she managed to die a second time. Which she wouldn’t! Because she had a plan!

Maybe, he thinks, Cleo had a point, back then. Joe conquers death, and Cleo’s already died once.

What -

- he stares at the moon so long it burns his eyes, and then he takes flight again, ignoring the growing horrendous heat in his chest -

- what do they need wills for, anyway?

(Nothing at all.)

[starlightvld]

I... I think the last chapter of Couch Surfing is... finally... done? I need to do another read-through tomorrow, though, so here's a little snippet from near the end to tide you all over:

"Better learn some self control, Sergeant." Johnny scoffed but laid his head back down anyway. "Willnae be able to say tha' much longer." "Not callin' you L.t." "Ye'll be calling me Lieutenant MacTavish every time, will ye?" "No. Just Johnny." Johnny gave a pleased hum. "Sounds about right."

Also, there is now *art* to go along with this fic (!!!!!), which I am excited to share very soon!

[roomwithanopenfire]

calculated my word count totals for writing for the month of April and this is the bad thing about spending the whole month editing...

and over half of those words were written yesterday 😭

[fearandhatred]

so much to do so little time. i haven't finished either of my gomens projects i started in january

[r2y9s-notartblog]

evening/night boop! (how are you doing?)

morning boop! (i've lost track of the time whoops!)

I'm doing well! have a cat butt!

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

I don't wanna be perfect (I just want to be good enough for you)

Heist!Mark x reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) | Words: 694

You are curled into your heist partner's side in the living room area of your shared base, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when he asks you something out of the blue.

‘Do you think– are we… good people?’

You turn to face him, shutting off your phone screen, and raise an eyebrow.

‘Who are you and what've you done with Mark?’

‘Come on, I'm serious.’ You give him a baffled look and he sighs. ‘I never really thought about it all that much, I guess. I think I always just sorta accepted it? I sorta fell into this profession because it was fun and it paid the bills — I mean, don't get me wrong, I love what we do. I love the thrill, and I love the satisfaction of getting away with our loot scott-free. But I dunno… Recently I've been thinking. Is it bad that I enjoy this job? Am I a good person?’

It's a fair question, you suppose. You understand where he's coming from, but you're sure you both knew what you were getting into when you started this lifestyle, and once you've been doing it for so long it's hard to even begin to think of doing anything else, let alone the difficulty that would come with becoming an honest, working citizen without getting caught and sentenced for your many transgressions.

‘I mean, we're thieves, Mark — regular, organised criminals. We're not exactly heroes’ — you jab him lightly with your elbow — ‘as much as you like to act like one.’

He chuckles at that. There is a light-hearted smile on your face that is soon replaced with a more thoughtful expression. You cast your gaze away from him as you continue.

‘I think good and bad are kinda relative and subjective. The average person probably wouldn’t consider us good people, and yeah, I can't say we're necessarily good, but I don't think we're terrible either. I mean, I wouldn't want to actually hurt anyone. Would you?’

‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘No… Unless someone gave me a reason to.’

‘Well, that's fair. I think that's the same for most people.’

You pause, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. You don't recall at what point your fingers involuntarily found the edge of his clothes, but the familiar texture grounds you. ‘Yeah, we might not be good people per se, but I don't think that makes us bad people exactly, either.’ You meet his eyes again, with all the earnestness you can. ‘I don't think you are, at least,’ you add softly.

‘I don't think you are either,’ he says, and his tone is gentle but unwavering. You feel warm.

You offer a good-natured smile, attempting to turn the conversation in a lighter direction.

‘You know, in our defence, we mostly rob museums and super rich people. I don't think we need much justification to steal from the hella rich, and most stuff in museums is stolen anyway,’ you say matter-of-factly.

He laughs, loud and genuine, and the sound only warms you further.

‘Y'know, you're not wrong…’

‘But seriously,’ you ask, ‘what got you thinking about all this?’

‘I…’ he starts, voice low again, hesitant. ‘I don't know.’

But he does know, he thinks to himself, as he looks into your eyes. He often finds himself wondering what kind of person he is in those eyes.

It's you, he thinks. It's all you.

You break the entirely-too-long and yet far-too-short period of eye contact in favour of returning to your former position, nestled into his side. You lean into him and he places an arm around you, his thumb gently brushing wherever it can reach. You don't think all that much of it, but he's warm and comfortable and safe, and the way you fit together feels like home.

He thinks you're probably right; the idea of a good or bad person isn't something set in stone. And his and your standards measured against anyone else's would certainly differ.

But he finds that he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him.

As long as his best friend, his partner, still likes him enough to keep sticking around, that's enough for him.

[the-pale-goddess]

Girls don’t want to work. Girls want to write the most incomprehensible fic, filled with obscure metaphors and symbolism that make sense only if you’re their author.

[moregraceful]

tagged by @lemondropbois and @kitnita and @lovethygoalie!! I love having so many writer mutuals from such diverse points of fandom. I wasn't gonna do this because I am under a severe writing deadline however I am also so deeply frustrated right now that a nice meme may cheer me up. or make me worse. unclear

wip title game rules: post 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! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

not posting everything in my wip folder bc most of my wips need to get moved to the superhell (abandoned) folder, i just haven't been able to bring myself to do it. also i have talked about some of these before so i may not share a snippet if i haven't added anything to it since the last time i did this. here's what i have read and pondered in the past 5 months:

bergy buster love

jamie tyler robbers and cowards

kaapo alexis k'andre

mario brent trade (<- boba au)

miro jrob everything

roope jani water and power plot

shak nikita

Untitled Document

big fan of descriptive google doc titles. I decided my birthday/new year's resolution is to not use any song lyrics as titles 😤

soft tagging whoever wants to do it!

[not-krys]

The Traveling Adventures of Mister Fox and Miss Mouse

Few days ago, I was playing a FMK style ask game with @lorei-writes. One of the choices was who I would take a six hour train journey with. And, after I had given the other two choices some thought, Mitsuhide got the train ride choice. After that, the image of traveling in the old American West with him sparked in my mind.

And I tried my best to steer myself away from thinking too much about that concept bc time and energy levels wouldn't allow to make something completely coherent and complex.

And yet here we are, still thinking about an Old West traveling story with Mitsuhide.

Might as well see where this thought leads us.

Warnings: raw, unedited writing. Haven't done a whole lot of research into the old American West so details are bound to be incorrect. Reader will be referred to with she/her pronouns and other feminine aligning terms (Miss, missy, etc).

My Masterlist!

---

No one has ever said that the life of a detective was ever a glamorous one, especially when a man needed to put food in his belly and a roof over his head. Mitsuhide Akechi was also no stranger to the odd job he didn't care for but needed the cash it provided.

This current job, well, it may have just taken an interesting detour.

Back east, a sleazy gentleman had come to him to find and return his runaway bride, an oil heiress whose family he managed to swindle her out of. He knew this type and, quite frankly, didn't want to take the job because of it, but with the threat of bankruptcy of his business over his head, he had no other choice.

Instead, he took the job of recovering this runaway heiress, finding her trail laughably easy to trace. A common trend of runaway brides had started when the government started offering handouts to whoever wanted to move out west to desert and mountain country, hoping to settle it more with American citizens. Women were especially needed as schoolteachers, so it was his first thought of where he could find his runaway heiress.

Luckily (or unluckily), his hunches were rarely wrong.

He soon found himself on a train bound westward, sitting a few booths down from a young woman with a deep purple bustle dress, her white collar high on her neck and her hat decorated with sprigs of lavender. She matched the description the sleazy gentleman had given him so perfectly, it almost tore his blackened heart that he had found the girl so quickly.

But, he didn't have the time or luxury of moral dilemmas when money was on the line.

He then saw the young woman being boxed in by two other gentlemen, likely either hired by the same sleazy gentleman that had hired him or opportunists seeing a woman alone and sought to take advantage of her. Either way, he wasn't about to have his quarry taken from under his nose, especially not by amateurs.

"Please," he heard her meek voice, trying to be brave in spite of her terror, "m-my husband will be back soon, so please leave."

A perfect opportunity, Mitsuhide thought, as he grabbed the untouched dinner from his table and walked towards them.

"I don't see no diamond ring there, missy," the scoundrel smirked, "you best not be lying to me about no husband-"

"Sorry I'm late, dear." Mitsuhide said, sliding the plate of food in front of her. "The cook was busy with all the orders, and I'm afraid the waiter said they just ran out of your favorite chardonnay."

The girl turned to him, her face still nervous, but glad that someone was helping her.

Her companions, however, were not as pleased.

"Who are you?"

"Why, I'm this wonderful woman's husband." He said cordially. "The meat hadn't been cooked to the way the lady liked it, so I went to get her a fresh one."

His voice dropped lower in the next beat.

"Now, may I ask what business you gentlemen have with my darling wife?"

His hand moved subtly to his belt, brushing back his white overcoat slightly to reveal the holster and pistol at his side. The holster, decorated with stitched bellflowers, gave a not so subtle hint of who he actually was.

The boys paled.

"J-just saying hello, sir."

"Y-yeah, just saying hi, sir. N-not looking for trouble or anything."

"Good," said Mitsuhide with a smirk, "I hope you enjoy the rest of the trip, gentlemen."

The boys moved away from the lady's booth, grumbling but knew when they had been beat. You sigh with relief.

"Thank you, for stepping in."

"No trouble at all, Miss Mouse." he tipped his hat. "They shouldn't be giving you any more problems."

"…'Miss Mouse?'"

"Sorry, just came to mind when I saw you trembling."

You turned your face away, cheeks turning a light pink.

"Is it really that obvious, how nervous I am?"

"A woman travelling alone rightfully has every reason to be fearful." He took the opportunity sit in the seat across from you, giving a small push to his plate of food towards you.

"But, that's your-"

"I lost my sense of taste years ago, Miss Mouse. Complex flavors that are in likely there are wasted on me."

"Still, you need to eat too, Mister…?"

He paused, weighing his options of using his real name or coming up with a fake one on the spot. You would likely figure it out once he seized the opportunity to take you back east regardless, but, luckily (or unluckily), you just giggled and finished your own sentence.

"Mr. Fox."

"Mr. Fox?"

"Yes, if you insist on calling me Miss Mouse, I feel you should be able to take your own medicine, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled.

"Very well. Miss Mouse, may I introduce myself as Mr. Fox, a westward-bound traveler seeking opportunity in the wide, wild world?"

You giggled again.

"You introduce yourself well, Mr. Fox. I'm an up and coming teacher moving to the West. The Oda company is hiring in California and with my grant, I'll be ready to start my new life soon!"

A bullet couldn't have hit his heart harder. She was giving him the usual excuse for why runaway brides run from bad marriages these days. His hunch was, unfortunately, becoming more and more correct.

"A teacher? That sounds exciting. All the way out here for a teaching job."

"Y-yes." You turned your face away, looking at the passing scenery. "The Oda company pays well. They're even giving me housing and everything."

"Sounds like you're all set for life, Miss Mouse."

"Yes, yes, I am." Your voice trails off, still paying more attention to the passing scenery.

Mitsuhide turns to look out the window as well, seeing the grassy greenery and pale blue skies passing at a leisurely speed.

[hopelesshawks]

Nothing like reading a fic on ao3 and suddenly getting heavy sadomasochist and impact play in almost all of the smut scenes even though the smut tags were only “dom/sub”, “soft dom [insert character]”, and “sub [insert character]” to make me appreciate how well tagged/warned shit on tumblr is

[indulgnc]

anon opinion!!

you seem like a very genuine person, and i love seeing your tags on peoples work - theyre always so positive and lovely to see !! also your old fics are literally some of my favorites 🫣🫣

WHAT!!!! which fics..!!! are they the g3nshin ones.. im so honored omg 😭😭esp bc these are old im so happy u still like them🥺 ik i dont write for it anymore, but im more than happy to take a rq if theres something you liked in a fic rhat i can apply somewhere else !!

also tjank you WAHH!! WAH!!! this is so sweet. thank u.. sniffle🥺

[azusaluvclub]

thank you to @bluebird990 for tagging me in this! took me a few days to get around to doing it, mb...

rules: Make a new post and post the latest line of your WIP. Then tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)

line: MDMA, speed, tabs — Seongje thrived on adrenaline, be it exchanging punches with whoever particularly pissed him off that day or indulging in a different sort of high. Trying to put his Union days behind him, the latter seemed more fulfilling.

tagging (but tbh im not sure if these ppl are active anymore-): @xbunnybunz @rare-and-beautiful-things @sharlulu