#yea fic talk

[reitziluz]

After dealing with some youkai, Reigen and Serizawa have ramen and talk about business cards.

1.2K, pre-relationship verging on gen

i continue to have emotions about the business cards

[ash-and-starlight]

The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀

Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.

anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck

(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[yellowheartz]

Not hating on Kuboyasu Aren, like don't get me wrong, that's gang and I love him.

But I think that if he did achieve his dream of being able to marry a lady and have a family, there would be a lot of loopholes in his relationships.

Like, yes, he's a very respectful dude and he'd probs treat the woman like the only girl in the world but let's say they had a fight, right?

Dude wouldn't know the first thing to do, 50 outta 50, he'll apologize because "that's what a man should do" but what if he felt wronged as well? Either way, whether he apologizes or not, there would be a little toxicity at least, surrounding his relationship with his lady, like please do yall get me? 😭

Istg, I'm not hating, he's literally my fave character, but if he really ended up with a normal girl and lived a normal life, there'd surely be problems, most likely if he had a daughter.

[stafsar]

L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

I had a bookcover design assignment so obviously I chose @devilinthebox's literary masterpiece of a fanfic Our Bodies, Possessed by Light

[wrongcaitlyn]

listening to folklore and writing will angst 💯

[mossyflowers]

"Hand in hand, they tango straight to hell"

[goofyjelly]

so youre tellin me that the internet goes wild for actor men ALL THE TIME, but when I go on wattpad I can't find ONE Ethan Peck fanfiction-

[boimgfrog]

ok question come on how does that green anime hair guy (not the one from my hero shsjfhd the other one the buff one) top the pink hair guy that is like a classic contender for the little one tops the pink one is the fandom really so reductive :(

Joe (Green hair) is large and bisexual and cherry (pink hair) is lithe and homosexual and SOMEHOW that's all it takes. it's bullshit tho Joe is so infatuated w cherry and cherry is absolutely a dom and they are both switches. fandom is dumb and silly 2 not understand my beautiful vision.

[fatuismooches]

Fragile!reader is a wonderful concept. However, I will NOT let Signora meet them & suffer through that type of loss ever again, therefore I FORBID you fatuismooches from writing them together.. because if you do I’ll most likely break down in tears and start crying because we all know how it’ll end. >:( 💔

Rosalyne, whose suffered through years of grief and sadness from the loss of her late husband, promising to uproot herself from her own flames, finally seeing a chance at love again, a fleeting moment where she can once again be embraced in the arms of someone she holds dear. It would have taken her so long to accept love back into her life, to not fear it and what it’ll bring in the event of tragedy. To welcome back the familiar warmth, just to lose it all once again.. She would never love again.

I think about her and why fragile!reader would be like, but I can’t think of them without being reminded of how devastating it will be if they were to ever meet and fall in love.

Signora isn’t Dottore. She can’t prolong your lifespan or give you the adequate healthcare. 😞

I love my pookie Dottore like A LOT, but there’s something about a widowed woman falling back in love with someone who’s time is already limited, that you just can’t beat..

It’s 1am and I have tests tmrw but I NEEDED to get this out, there’s so much more I want to say about Signora and fragile!reader but I can’t likeee, IDK,,explain it better 😭💔💔

Hello webttcre, i totally didn't write this and this where Signora loses you!! 😂😂 (Also i hope you did good on your exams!! but don't go to sleep so late it's bad for you!! 😡)

BUT YES. Signora is such a sad character, Rosalyne is even more heart-breaking. When her husband died she swore to herself never to love again, never to place her arms around another nor to let them embrace her, just... never again. She cannot let herself go through that pain again... she was already so hurt by Rostam, that the pain it will be the second time would be... unimaginable. Well, that's what she promises herself, but she ends up breaking it when she meets you. It's as they say. When you're in love, you're in love. You can try to deny it, run from it all you like but, it won't stop it... Signora can't stop herself from loving you. So after a lot of time, a lot of reassurance and comfort from you, she lets herself fall in love again. You quell her flames but you keep her from freezing over... it's a perfect match.

But things never last long for sinners like her. The Gods never favored her, did they? It's always the right person, but never enough time. Signora though that this second chance would be the right one, the one that would end in happiness and not heartbreak... but your illness shattered all hopes of that. It's not your fault of course, no never, Rosalyne would never blame you. But she can't help but loathe at the hand she's been dealt in his life, to be cursed to lose the only two people she ever gave a damn about. She spends all the time she can with you but, as she sees you withering away and inevitably leaving her, she alternates between pure flames and pure ice. Pure anger and pure emptiness.

Rosalyne should have never let you get close to her... her love always ends in tragedy. :(

[charlataninred]

Sucker for the hyperspecific “one person goes back in time in a tragic story except the future consciousness gets slammed into their past body” trope

[reitziluz]

Chapter 4 - Dating and Such

dazzling autumn colors. a cold shoulder. vending machine coffee. offer a finger, lose an arm.

chapter word count: 6,2K

a/n: well, despite all the obstacles, i'm back at it again! this one is a mountain of fluff, and i had lots of fun writing it! come get your fun tree facts!

(a hanahaki serirei longfic (reboot) - aimed to update monthly, but things got a bit crazy)

[uselessnbee]

thinking about Mike Wheeler being the heart, but not the heart of the party, the heart of the UD

thinking about Mike Wheeler being the leader, but not the leader of the party, the leader of the democreatures

[gifti3]

I think one con of dating asmo would be his fans

I like to believe that most of them are decent but theres always gonna be fans who dont know or care about healthy boundaries (some of his fans have to have a parasocial relationship with him!)

And ik asmo can defend himself but im sure it can still be upsetting at times

[darkhazard19]

So my brain came up with a primis armyhorse fic but gave me two versions of the same idea 😅 I didn’t know which one was better so I’m here to get your opinion on which version I should write.

I feel like version 1 gives an insight into how Leta and Dempsey’s relationship developed and how they bonded but version 2 shows the moment the two know they want to be together. Maybe this could be a 2 parter kinda fic but that’s why I’m here to get opinions and feedback lol

Prior to Origins and a couple months into when Leta joined the marines. During the aftermath of a battle while trying to assess everyone’s injuries, Leta gets shot and injured by a straggler. While getting her wounds treated, Leta is slightly delirious and lightheaded from blood loss and just mutters about how she’s sorry for not being useful. Tank comforts her and later on the two share a heartfelt moment while Leta is healing. (Version 1)

Prior to Origins and right after Sterling’s death, Leta makes it back to where they set up base with the letters she nearly died for, letters that Sterling died protecting her for. Moments after delivering the letters she passes out from exhaustion and a wound she had to stitch up rather quickly and messily. After being treated and waking up, she and Dempsey share a heartfelt moment and make the decision to cement their relationship and make it official. (Version 2)

[pizzee]

twice

FUCK IT WEREWOLF BY NIGHT FIC. Where(wolf) you can read it here on AO3

When the first rays of dawn shine through the window and cast the chamber in shades of gold, he begins to stir. Or, the lump on the ground that’s comprised of a cloak Elsa found and a man-turned-beast-turned-man-again stirred. She ignores the stinging from the gash on her arm and waits.

The lump groans and the cloak shifts just enough that grey hair peeks out from underneath the blanket of black. Another move and eyebrows hanging over shut eyes make an appearance before a hand — a human hand — juts out to push himself up. Another hand braces against his head, then he looks up, cracks one eye open, and—

“Elsa?”

Jack’s voice comes out in a creak, barely above a whisper. But it’s a voice.

She sighs, feeling half relieved and half exasperated. “Mornin’.”

“Ah is it…” he looks over his shoulder at the shadows cast by the sun, bars over the window making long stripes of grey and yellow on the floor. He huffs a breath. Turns back. Grins at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Good morning.”

Elsa clicks her tongue and tightens the bandage on her arm, biting her tongue to keep herself from wincing. Not that Jack would notice, with how busy he is pushing himself into a sitting position that makes him stifle groans of pain and rubs his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath in Spanish and finally takes her in, eyes catching on her arm. He makes to talk.

“Didn’t think farmers still attacked people with pitchforks,” she lies before he can speak, and makes a show of casually tapping on the bandages, “bit old fashioned.”

Jack frowns, eyes flicking to her shotguns whose barrels are spattered with blood. She nudges them out of view. He chews on the inside of his cheek. “Are you ok?”

“You’re in a cell, mate, and the first thing you say is good morning and ask if I’m ok?”

“I’m used to all this.” He waves his hand in the air. “But, are you?”

Besides the restless night and aching wound and general clean-up work down at the nearby village she'll have to do—

(Beside the small seed of worry in her gut that was planted there when Jack stumbled up to her doorway the evening prior, bleeding out from a wound and politely asking if he could lock himself away for the next few nights. Besides the fact that it's grown since she had to track him down to the village and kill some monster hunters that'd fallen into his path. Besides that its roots are so firmly planted in her that she stayed awake all night, even if he was finally chained up and unconscious, just to make sure he was healing like he'd said he would, that he was still alive and would be ok when dawn came and the claws and hair and healing abilities vanished and left just a man. Just Jack Russell, aching and confused and worried. Jack, who'd smiled at her and asked if she was ok first.)

—yes, she is fine. Her arm would heal. She'll replace the sheep. She'll rest... later. But first and most important was getting him out of this cell, no matter how used to it he claims he is. So Elsa stands and offers him a hand, then leads or drags him out, up the stairs, past the main hall into the kitchen, and rummages through the fridge while he practically collapses onto a bar stool, panting and drawing up his legs crossed under him. She can feel his gaze on her back as she grabs a can of beans off the cupboard shelf and a few slices of bread to pop in the toaster.

“Do you remember anything?” she asks while the pan heats up and she opens the tin of baked beans.

Jack hums and makes a so-so sign. “Hm, in a way. I only remember something but even then, I don't know if it's real. It’s like… watching a dream through a foggy glass." He frowns and leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and fingers intertwined and untwined and intertwining again in a constant pattern. "If that, makes sense.”

She watches his hands a bit longer and changes the topic. “Sure. Your full-proof system failed, so I spent the night trying to wrangle your arse back here.”

“And stop me from—“

“Killing a few sheep and farm animals? Yes, though I wouldn’t say I was as successful at that.”

She leaves out the rest of it. The sprinting through the woods and shooting and the moment when one of his claws grazed her arm in the heat of battle. Unintentionally, she was standing too close and he was too... wild, to coordinate with and there were too many hunters. Elsa leaves it out, not because of those reasons, not because she knows he didn't mean to and never would.

She leaves it out because Jack is staring at her, eyes wide and grateful, hesitant and deeply apologetic. Afraid.

(In that cage, when time was running short and panic long, when she'd long since given up when she stared at him and wondered how exactly he would kill her. And he stared at her and wondered how he'd save her from himself.

Well, does it work? she'd asked.

He shook his head, and slightly tightened his grip on her arm, for purchase. Once, he'd said. And said nothing else.)

She leaves it out and turns back to the food instead.

“Thank you, for finding me.”

She shrugs and spins to place the plate in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind English breakfast because that’s all I know how to make. Here you are.”

He makes a face at the beans on toast that he quickly wipes away, but not before Elsa catches it. “What happened to your butler?”

“I gave him the night off.”

“Dios dame la fuerza...”

She knows just enough Spanish to know what that means. She flips him off, Jack chuckles lightly, then nibbles around the edges of the toast.

“Nice place, by the way," he starts between bites, looking around at the overly dramatic gothic interior of the kitchen, "I didn’t mention it last time.”

“Too preoccupied with not dying were you?”

A laugh. “Haha yes. It’s a lot nicer without the mess.”

The giant murder cage in the middle of the room, bodies of the people they killed. She'd agree if she liked the place. “I’m sure Ulysses would’ve been happy to hear that.”

If he catches the use of her father's name, he doesn't mention it. “Hm, true. But now it’s yours.”

It hangs in the air between them. Elsa grabs his plate and relents with a sigh.

“It is.”

He smiles (when does he not) then scrunches his nose and shakes his head, like a dog. “Blergh, please let me cook next time.”

Elsa scoffs and rolls her eyes and makes her way out of the kitchen while he trails behind her. “Sure, I’ll let the werewolf make me dinner.”

“There are 27 other days in the month when I can cook.”

“And what, you’ll be spending those 27 days here?”

A stupid question, but the mansion is big and empty. It's crawling with ghosts. Maybe it’s the crypt on the grounds. Maybe it’s the enormous portraits of Ulysses hanging above, perfect poses, and sharp eyes that bore down at her. Maybe it’s the stares she feels on the back of her neck that she spins to try and catch, only to be met with empty air. A stuffed corpse on the wall, watching. It'd be nice, Elsa thinks somewhere far in the back of her mind, to share the space with someone else.

Jack clasps his hands behind his back as she opens the doors to the upstairs gardens. He whistles and moves a little faster to keep pace beside her. He leans forward. “You could come to visit me. In Mexico.”

She tries not to get giddy over that. “I’ve never heard of a monster inviting a hunter to ‘visit’ them.”

“And I’ve never heard of English food being good.”

“Twat.”

The terrace is missing a fence and the edge is concealed by bushes. Elsa remembers her mum always snatching her back before she could get too close and wander off, and she gets a very frustrating and terrifying sense of deja vu when she has to yank Jack back from falling off when he meanders over and almost walks off the 2nd story. She growls and steers him by his shoulders to a patch between some trees and forces him to sit while she stands over him.

“Do you ever think?”

He smiles sheepishly and scratches behind his ear. “I try not to make a habit of it.”

"Bloody hell." She sits roughly beside him, letting out a long breath. He does the same, something pained and uncomfortable, but his shoulders ease, even if the aching tension is still there. He watches the last bit of sunrise and she does the same. And thinks about that cage, that night, the cell, this night. If he'd stay past these few nights if she'd visit him like he said she could.

There's a sigh behind her, then under his breath, “2 more nights.”

Well, does it work? she’d ask him.

She looks at him, from the corner of her eye at first, then turns her head. He’s brighter in the sunlight, warmer. He catches her gaze and locks on. His lips twitch, the corners pushing up until he beams, and his face practically glows. Something spreads in her chest and it feels like the sun. She finds herself mirroring him.

Twice. He’d say.