#when will i have my fanfiction moment?

[floef-likes-minecraft]

Gluestick

“And I shall name him Gluestick,” Skizz announced proudly as he took his new horse by the reigns. The animal didn’t seem to care much for the name, he just wanted the carrots Skizz had pocketed a few moments ago.

“… why?” Impulse just asked with a puzzled look on his face. “Your first horse on the Server could be named anything and you name it Gluestick?”

“You heard me correctly,” Skizz proudly said, patting his new animal friend on the neck. “And he shall be the loveliest of horses to have ever existed.”

“Sounds like a horse that’s slow,” Grian noted, who had also decided to come along for whatever reason. Maybe he had finally have enough of his fishing endeavors. Maybe he wanted to make fun of Skizz, who knew. “Like it’s glued to the ground or something.”

“Don’t say that about dear Gluestick,” Skizz said, jumping in to defend his horse. “He’s very sensitive.”

“You’ve had him for ten seconds!”

“And those have been the best ten seconds of my life I’ll have you know,” Skizz said, sticking to the bit. He wasn’t going to let his friends talk him into renaming his horse already. Sure, he could’ve named him something conventional like Thunder or Racey McFast but this was way more fun. This was a name that would… well, stick with people. The Hermits would know this was his horse, not just some animal named and abandoned in the wilderness.

“I – never mind, I’m going to stop arguing,” Grian said, giving in and pulling his fishing rod from his inventory. His own horse, Pluto, had been impatiently waiting and tied to a fence. Seeing his owner pull out the rod made him think they were about to move again and he pulled on his restrains.

“Calm down Pluto,” Grian muttered. “Yes, we’re going back. No, I won’t try giving you fish again. Gluestick is going to be your new neighbor, get used to it.”

Grian hopped smoothly on his horse after setting it free from the fence. Pluto was a fast one, Skizz had seen Grian ride around on it plenty. He crossed another Hermit on a horse, who was happy to join Impulse and Skizz.

“A new friend!” it had been Bdubs on his own horse. Climb 10 was, as far as Skizz was aware, the fastest amongst all the horses they had tamed. Skizz didn’t expect anything less from Bdubs, honestly. “You’ve found your steed, Skizz. What did you name them?”

“Gluestick,” Skizz answered proudly. Impulse sighed, resting his head in his hand. Bdubs eyes started to shine, just like the big smile that appeared on his face.

“A worthy name!” he exclaimed. “Strong, recognizable, everything a noble steed deserves! Oh come here, buddy, have you found a new home? Serve my friend well, alright, don’t go slow on him!”

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Impulse muttered into his hand, which Skizz thought was a given at this moment.

“He looks fast, Skizz,” Bdubs had already walked to the side of Gluestick and started to scratch his but. Gluestick seemed to like it, stretching out his neck to make a funny face by lifting his lips. Skizz laughed, as he had never seen a horse do that. “His coat glows, his tail is nice and full and – wait, are those shingles?”  

[destinysbounty]

I know I have wayyy too many fan projects on my to-do list to warrant adding another one onto the pile (cough cough the 30-minute love triangle video essay), but for years now I've been wanting to do a rewrite/novelization of the Shadow of Ronin video game. Because like, the lore of this game has so many fucked up implications that never get acknowledged - but unlike with most fucked up Ninjago lore, the game is just obscure enough that not as many people are familiar with it enough to facilitate a broader discussion about this stuff. And dammit, I need at least one fic talking about how messed up SoR actually was and if I cannot find it I guess I'll just have to create it.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

“You don’t have to do this.”

"You don't have to do this."

Demeter's voice comes from somewhere behind Alonzo's shoulder, thin and reedy but heavy with intent. She is frighteningly calm, all things in considered, though Mungojerrie can hear the tail edge of something foreign tightening each syllable.

The decided emphasis of the statement gives Alonzo a solid beat of pause; he's hearing what Demeter is saying, but, more importantly this time around, he's deliberating it. It's gotten through to him. Mungojerrie sees every millimeter of muscle beneath his eye twitch and shift. He holds his breath.

The speed at which Mungojerrie had been off his paws and slammed back against the wall was - admittedly - startling, knocking the wind and words clean out of him. He'd been midsentence, explanatory excuse just on the tip of his tongue, attempting to keep pace with the cats walking with him, but every time he caught up front, they continued on. Alonzo wouldn't even look at him - that should have been his first warning.

They'd been silent amongst themselves when he'd made his meager attempt at explanation. Even Teazer was frighteningly quiet, trailing hesitantly behind Demeter, in the way that suggested whatever she'd seen back in that room hadn't been good. The silence had been deafening and uncomfortable, tension thick and wounded like a noose set to decorate a neck, and every nervous bone in Mungojerrie's body screamed to fill it, interrupt it - say something that would diffuse everything and stitch them back together instead of feeling like he'd been trapped behind glass, screaming and screaming with no one around to make it mean anything.

He'd said the wrong thing; he could feel it the moment it whistled through his teeth. He'd said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, pissed off the wrong cats. Or just one of the wrong cat; the most important of wrong cats. And they'd all surely pay for that slip up down the line. But it could be smoothed over; surely everything could.

The last thing he had heard before being suspended was a sharp, flat exhale - a decisive, frustrated kind of noise that, perhaps if he were paying more attention to his surroundings instead of his fear, Mungojerrie would have recognized as something foreboding.

Now, he was face-to-face with a very angry looking tomcat, and struggling a solid few inches off the ground, every instinct in his body screaming at him to escape, lash out and yowl like his tail was on fire, do something, but he was completely frozen. Alonzo held onto the scruff of his chest firmly, shoving his nose into Mungojerrie's muzzle and the rest of him bodily into his space so he couldn't look away from him even if he tried. There were bright coals of anger burning in Alonzo's eyes, fanned to life with an undercurrent of fear. Danger. A reminder - Mungojerrie thought distantly as his attempts at squirming free from an iron grip slowed to a trickle, then an icy stop - of how he'd gotten to be where he was in the first place. It was easy to forget; easy to pretend they were playing one long hauled game. Alonzo was grumpy and aloof, but never dangerous. Never any real threat.

There is a scar running through his lip and up into his nose, deep and pulled taught against his snarl. Mungojerrie wonders where he got it. He'd never asked.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" the larger tomcat growled, low, menacing, cold, shaking him for emphasis. "What is the matter with you?"

Send me a sentence and I’ll fill at least five more in after it for a little mini-fic.

[compacflt]

i am pretty solidly anti-fic printing except when its my fic that i wrote & i want to hold it in my hands for editing purposes

final (final!!!!) edit & slider one-shot inbound soon

[19871997]

.

[optiwashere]

Also Shadowheart/Asheera, B9? I swear you did write something like this before but hey, new angles,

I have written something to this effect before, but like you said - new angles and all that. Plus, it's not like it's something that Shadowheart just "gets over" you know? Either way, thank you for requesting this one!

Let's end the prompt bash with my two favorite ladies 💜

---

B9. Convinced that their past makes them irredeemable, Character A struggles with Character B's affections (This technically takes place after Chapter 2 of one of my ongoing fics, Blades in the Night, but all you need for context is that it's post-canon)

Night fell on the Trade Way, stars in haphazard patterns that Shadowheart couldn't read for any constellations.

All she saw were dots of light in the sea of darkness. Seams in the black fabric of night, none of them strong enough to light the world. The moon was dim that night. All was dark save for the small fire she and Asheera built together.

Stargazing kept her mind from staring at the shadows of the trees around them. Yet another forest.

More trees. More hiding places for the Sharran assassins set on ruining what future Shadowheart thought she could have. Each of the shadows in those trees, distant enough that her darkvision couldn't reach them, could have been a shifting figure with a nocked arrow.

"Quiet tonight," whispered Asheera near her.

She was sitting next to Shadowheart by the fire. When she sat down, Shadowheart didn't know.

"I suppose it is. Not much reason for most to travel this way, I assume." Shadowheart glanced her way, then returned her gaze to the sky.

"I meant you."

"Oh."

The low hunting call of a nocturnal bird was the only sound on the road for a handful of breaths. Shadowheart couldn't keep her eyes off the stars.

All around them they were bathed in darkness, yet still they shone. Did the stars too, then, understand what it felt like to consider the darkness? Think it preferable? Did whichever god that hung them in the sky know the feel of its creator's blood on its hands as Shadowheart felt of her parents? Had that god ever heard its parents scream as it worked the interrogator's techniques on them in ignorant devotion to some other, greater god?

It must have. Its work showed in the sky. On some mornings, the sky bled red, and the clouds were stained the same way Shadowheart knew her hands were stained.

Tainted.

"Love, are you all right?" asked Asheera, her voice so soft that Shadowheart shivered at its softness. Her hand fell on Shadowheart's shoulder, thumb rubbing gently. "You've been quiet for hours."

"Have I?" Shadowheart turned to stare at the hand on her. When she tilted her head up to look at Asheera, her tusks glinted in the firelight. "If I said I was contemplating the night sky, would you laugh at me?"

"Depends on why. I have a feeling it's not exactly a humorous occasion."

Waiting a moment, Shadowheart sighed. She didn’t know how to word this. "When you see a star in the night's sky, what do you think of it?"

Asheera shifted her jaw, grinding her tusks against her lip as she thought. Her brows knitted together above the bridge of her nose. "I see a forge weld, like pieces of a breastplate stitched together. Each of those stars keeps the world from falling into total darkness. They're beautiful that way. Why, what do you see?"

"Naïve children that think they can fend off eternal darkness. Destined to die, fade away. Become nothing."

At once, Asheera sat closer, her arm shifting to hold Shadowheart at the waist. Her arm wrapped around Shadowheart and pulled her tight. She was warm. Warmer than the fire. Instinctively, Shadowheart rested her head on Asheera's shoulder. Despite the distance - perhaps because of the oath Asheera swore to protect her - Shadowheart swore she could hear the echo of her heartbeat.

She was so damn warm, and Shadowheart could only think of the darkness blanketing the light in the sky. How a star could be snuffed out in an instant, replaced instantly by shadows.

Shadowheart's breaths hitched. For a moment, she worried her thoughts mingled with Asheera's mind. But the tadpole was gone. Her thoughts were her own, completely free from unfortunate sharing or melding of emotions.

The warmth of Asheera's body enveloped her deeper as Asheera slid her palm down Shadowheart's arm. Close, covered in that palm. Fingers slipped between hers. Held tight.

"You have no reason to fear that," whispered Asheera. "You are not that darkness."

"I broke people for decades. Including my own parents."

"You didn't know—"

"And that absolves me? That's meant to stop me from remembering what I've done?" Shadowheart growled, lifting her head to meet Asheera's gaze. "And what would you know of such loss?"

The words tasted like poison, specifically the extract of carrion crawler innards that could paralyze and trigger violent spasms in its victim. Acrid like burnt flowers. Disgust welled at the bottom of her throat, and she meant to turn away from Asheera, but she could only stare into the deep, ruddy brown eyes that searched her face.

She expected Asheera to pull away.

Instead, she reaffirmed her grip on Shadowheart's hand.

Instead of pulling away, she smiled weakly.

Instead of leaving Shadowheart to wallow in that darkness, Asheera said, "It's not meant to do anything. It's a reminder. But I understand. I understand, though if you think I'm going to sit idly while you compare yourself to the empty night sky, you're more clueless than I expected."

"You think me clueless, then?"

"Let’s just say that I remember hearing the zealot that I met on a floating squid ship regurgitate Sharran dogma." Asheera lifted the corner of her mouth in a curved half-smile. "She was so very different from the smiling drunk that said she cared about refugees."

And somehow, Shadowheart smiled again. She nearly laughed too.

Rather than say a word and ruin what Asheera offered with open arms, Shadowheart nestled back into her embrace.

The two of them watched the stars until the fire became a glimmering, constant light that refused to die. Though they were wrapped in the dark for a moment, darkvision revealing the world in grayscale again, the stars still shone.

[avaantares]

Dentists hate him! Find out the one weird trick* they don't want you to know!

* Results may vary. There is, after all, only one Shen Wei.

-

For @guardianbingo prompt "cigarettes," which only get a couple of passing mentions in the story but definitely play into the history of the whole situation because cigarettes -> lollipops -> dentist.

[jestroer]

So i’ve started readin an amazing piece of team rancher fan fiction called The Highwayman by @envelopedbyoblivion​ and ummm...

This is the size comparasion of Tango and Bullseye i got in my mind after reading the first chapter... Which is basically the canon right

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🌸!!CHAPTER TWO POSTED!!🌸

Title: Four Walls

Tags: slow burn, domesticity, friends to lovers, smut, pining post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

[gothamcityneedsme]

I love Akiras honest joy about this. Like. Everyone is happy but Akira is so cerebral about his happiness. Hes like. YES! CHAOS!

And finally. Finishing off Blasted with this line from Kiyoharu. Its left murky because like. Kiyoharu is a little loopy and the people view both him and Akira as leader sort of? But even Akira defers to Kiyoharu. So it was uncertain how Kiyoharu saw Akira, and then this line at the end clears it up. He sees Akiras potential too. Probably knows he a little of a figurehead

[hauntedwoman]

i think the worst part of being in your early twenties is that you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you're no longer a teenager or a child, but something else that can clearly see the exact moment when you started to become your own person. you're hyperaware that your experiences made you into who you are now and you can't go back and change them. you can't go back. the image of innocence is so clear in your mind. but you are the ship and the iceberg is right ahead.

[catchmewjsn]

I have to iron 🫡

[clonedchaos]

Hehehe, Alien Robots

Watched Transformers: Rise of the Beasts with my dad today and legit all I can think about is writing a fanfiction centered around the cast being found family and doing mundane slice of life things bc they’re aliens and need to interact with earth more. 😭

I also kept mistaking Optimus Primal as a robot version of King Kong, but that’s not relevant.

Read the tags if you want my random thoughts and some spoilers.

[10000-paper-nohara-rins]

It's late. Even underground, in the winding labyrinth of tunnels beneath Konoha where no natural light falls, Danzo can tell. There's a scent to the air.

Normally, he works through these quiet hours with the same dedication that he carries at all times. Tonight, however, his stacks of paperwork have all been meticulously combed through, signed, and filed. No one needs his attention. Nothing is wrong.

Danzo picks up his cane and begins the trek back to his old clan compound. He does not visit often. He is usually busy. He is not busy tonight.

His bones ache with a sort of weariness that denotes no real problem. He has learned to ignore this sort of pain. He ascends out of the tunnels, not bothering to muffle the sound of his footsteps with chakra.

He does not blink when he comes out to Konoha's streets. It is just as dark out here as it was in the tunnels. It is late out. A glance at the thin, crescent moon puts the time somewhere around 1.

Danzo makes his way past shopfronts, apartments, and fields. His memory of the layout of the village is annoyingly spotty. The streets have changed too much since the Kyuubi's attack, and he does not spend much time in them.

He walks past Hokage tower. The light in Hiruzen's office is on, casting a dim, yellow glow into the air. Danzo does not stop to see him. Soft, tender moments would ruin the sparks between them. He cannot think of anything more unappealing than stopping to relearn everything about the man who puts poison in his tea once a week.

He used to know Hiruzen. It was a mistake. A good shinobi does not have time for sentiment. Teamwork is a strength- relationships are weaknesses.

He wanders the streets for what seems like an eternity, a ghost in the village he has given and will give everything for. He does not regret it. He does not regret anything. He has done everything right.

Like the dull, distant pain in his hip, something tugs at his gut. Danzo ignores it. He knows what he is protecting. He knows why he does the things he does. He does not regret it.

He does not look back at the light in Hiruzen's office. The hair on his neck prickles- he can feel Hiruzen's gaze, how it carefully avoids him, observing the street around him, but not Danzo. A good shinobi has no time for sentiment. Hiruzen may be starting to fall apart in his old age, but lessons he learned alongside Danzo decades ago still stick to him like wet, rotting leaves.

Danzo finds his way to the Shimura Compound. There are heaps of fertilizer sitting in the garden, ready to be mixed into the soil. The smell of rotting leaves dances around the smell of the night. Crickets, hiding in bushes of nightshade, chirp a quiet, steady song.

The siding of the buildings in the compound is all pristine, brown and orange and achingly unfamiliar. Danzo knows how to ignore aches that do not matter. There are twelve in total, each housing one or two families. Danzo knows every name and face of his clan. He has met sparingly few of them.

He does not miss them. He does not miss the way he used to live. He creeps into the house in the center of the compound, past the rooms where the clan head and her four nephews sleep, into his old, dusty office. He will rest here, for the night, only because there is nothing else for him to do.

Danzo reaches across old scraps of paper with shaky writing and sloppy drawings and turns on his old lamp. A dim, yellow glow fills the room. He leans back in his chair. His hip aches. His hands shake. He does not regret anything, but quietly, because there is nothing else to do, he allows himself to feel very, very bad.

The lamp burns, and the leaves rot, and the crickets chirp. Dim yellow light slips through the window and paints stripes through the garden of poisonous plants. Danzo rests, and lets himself ache, and the night drags on.

[animangalover-writes]

#2, 3, and 11 for "a present from the soul" for the writer ask game! -lizzy

You're too sweet sending me this ask😭 This is actually one of my favorite fics that I've written so I am THRILLED to talk about it.

You can read A Present From The Soul here if your interested.

I'm very tired when I answer this so excuse any rambling and typos lol. ANYWAYS.

2. What scene did you first put down?

I think the first scene I actually wrote for this fic was Jaskier giving Geralt a rock(basically the first scene in the fic lol). I've heard people with gift giving as a love language love giving/receiving little things like rocks or leaves, because to them, it means something. I knew I wanted to make Jaskier's gifts be small but meaningful, and what better way to start off the fic then by having him give the person he loves a something as simple as a rock? Especially when, to him, it reminds him of pearls and the color of Geralts hair.

3. What's your favorite line of narration?

This one was hard because there are actually quite a few lines in this fic that I loved. But if I had to choose, it'd probably be this:

"He loves doing this for her, allowing her even a moment of reprieve. So she can be a child again. Just a child enjoying a story told by a bard."

I really liked this line because we rarely get to see Ciri just getting to be her age. And the idea that Jaskier, a bard, can give her that joy, that freedom to just listen to a grand story being told by a famous bard. UGH. ITS SO SWEET. Definitely one of my favorite parts to write.

11. What do you like best about this fic?

I loooove exploring dynamics in fics, whether they be platonic, romantic, or familial. Especially between characters who never or rarely interact. So exploring the dynamics between, not only Geralt and Yennefer, which is already throughly explored in many other fics, but also with Istredd and Ciri was such a blast!

Love languages was a really fun way to explore these dynamics individually, but I loved going in depth on how I imagine Istredd and Jaskiers dynamic would be. I mean, two sarcastic scholars in one room? How could you not want to explore that? And I'm such a sucker for Jaskier and Ciri having their own father daughter dynamic, especially because they both come from wealth and understand the shallowness that can come with that. The idea that Ciri gets to be a little kid with him(and the others, but mostly him) is so precious to me!

Thank you for sending this ask, it was such a lovely surprise and was so fun to talk about! Now I have to send one back 👁👁 I'm so curious about yalls thought process when writing your own fics!

[im-still-watching-anime]

ohoho i am SO powerful when i get more than one day off a week rumor has it that tonight i will be posting a Thing that is both finished and edited and ready to be read hoho