#kaylie writes things

[kazz-brekker]

honestly the most impressive thing about tlovm season 2 is that it managed to make me actually somewhat invested in scanlan

#i really don't vibe with his sense of humor so every time he was on screen i was like ughhhhh go away #and like. he was still annoying in this season #but i liked that it explored how being the funny one is kind of all he knows how to do and his feelings that no one likes or cares about him #also i was spoiled on the kaylie thing but i think it's a really good writing choice #kind of forces him to confront his bad choices and kickstart his development #pie says stuff #the legend of vox machina #tlovm #scanlan shorthalt

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

dry your eyes and start believing

gen (obviously) | 1490 words | Battle for the Cowl AU

"Be my Robin."

The offer doesn't come with the or else that Tim expected. It doesn't come with a threat, or a fight, just the flashing green-blue eyes of the person closest to what Tim thinks of as a brother. Granted, also the guy who's nearly killed him in the past, but right now he's just his brother, eyes so intensely green that if it were darker Tim thinks he'd still be able to see them, a little uncanny because he knows that's what happens when Jason gets most upset, and they're all upset right now, and everything just sucks, and Tim doesn't want to think about it.

He knows Jason is on the verge of a breakdown, because so is he. And so is Dick, much as he might try to hide it. So is Cass, and that's why she went to Hong Kong, because the person who anchored her to the world is- gone. Not dead. Gone.

He also knows exactly what Jason is asking. He knows Dick doesn't really want the cowl, the responsibility and age beyond his years of living up to Bruce as Batman, and Tim certainly doesn't freaking want it either. Jason is the one with the connection to Gotham, the darkness of the city thrumming in his veins just as much as magic mountain dew from Nanda Parbat. If he were a little more steady, his eyes a little less green, it would make all the sense in the world.

Tim knows what Robin means. It means grace — he thinks of Dick and his red-green-yellow flips, now black and blue zipping from the top of a building to the ground without a grapple, because he's always loved to fly — and it means magic — Tim lifts his head from the computer to stare back at Jason, whose gaze still hasn't faltered. Magic can mean a lot of things, he thinks, and the definition can change. Zatanna would probably back him up on that. — and it means hope. It means light, when Batman is at his darkest, because that's what Tim came here to bring. They both needed it.

And now they do again, but it's Jason instead of Bruce, a kid who's just lost his dad instead of the other way around. Tim blinks owlishly, thinks back to his earliest days trying to keep Batman and his adversaries alive, trying to give back life that was taken, and the human representation of that is standing right in front of him. Tim's surprised he hasn't gone batcrap — pun only slightly intended — insane yet. He's surprised none of them have.

"Okay," he says, finally. "Sure."

Jason startles, eyes flickering into something more blue. "Really?"

Tim nods. "One condition."

Jason frowns and Tim knows what he's thinking, the wariness that comes from years of fighting Bruce's no-kill rule. But Tim isn't Bruce, thank God, no matter how similar they might sometimes be, and as well as he knows his own moral code, he's not about to cause a knock-down drag-out fight over it in the Batcave when he's already just. So tired. He became Robin to keep Batman true to himself; he can keep doing the same now. "What," Jason finally asks, voice flat.

"Stay at the Manor."

It would be a lie for Tim to say he doesn't flinch when Jason jerks away from where he's been leaning against the computer, hands flung in the air before he crosses his arms over his chest. Tim stays sitting, watches his brother out of the corner of his eye as he paces, listens as he swears up a storm. In any other circumstance, it might be funny.

They're not often alone down here; usually if Jason is around Dick is doing his best to pester him, the right of eldest siblings everywhere. Usually, Alfred would be giving a mild-mannered lecture about appropriate language. But now, Dick is upstairs trying to get through to a tiny, bitter child assassin who wants Tim dead, and Tim has no clue where Alfred is. It's not uncommon, the butler is as sneaky as any of the residents of the house, but right now it's unsettling. Tim has the sudden need to know the exact location of everyone he cares about, a sense that's been following him around ever since Bruce- well. He supposes it makes sense.

There's almost an apathy around the house right now, in the few days following a burial without a body. It's like no one wants to move, or knows what to do now. Anything that could have been reasonably planned out has passed them by and he wonders if any of them can even remember what they said at the burial.

"Why the hell is that your one condition?" Jason grumbles. "You know as well as I do that me being here is not a good idea. Especially not with the demon kid."

"Bad idea for you, or for all of us?" Tim asks, leveling Jason with a quiet stare. He doesn't have the energy to actually act all tough, but it seems to work anyway. "This is home base," he adds as an explanation, though he probably could have left it at this is home. "And I think it's a bad idea for us to scatter. Like it or not, we're family."

And if Damian comes up with any murder plans, it can't hurt to have the Red Hood on his side. But Tim doesn't say that. He just watches, slowly spinning his computer chair, as Jason paces some more, nervous, hurting energy — Tim knows because he feels some of the same — coming out in the form of a sudden hard punch to the nearest training bag. Tim is just glad it wasn't him.

When the bag, set up on a floor stand, finally tips over — after about thirty more seconds and one angry, formless shove— Jason turns back to Tim. Tim, who definitely does not cast a wary glance at where his bo staff is leaning against the edge of the computer terminal. Jason catches the look and glares, white shock of hair falling over his eyes. "Fine," he snaps. "I'll stay here if you'll be my Robin."

Tim blinks, not expecting the relatively easy acquiescence, and suddenly wonders if Jason isn't just as lonely as he is. He's read all about birth order — or in their case, adoption order. Middle children are the forgotten. The ones who, when asked, can only say that they're outsiders. Dick is the eldest, the first son, and Damian has to be the baby of a family that never knew about him, even though he's the least childlike child Tim has ever met. He and Jason are outsiders in a family of outsiders. Maybe that's why Jason wants him, of all people, the Replacement, Pretender, the cuckoo in the nest, as his Robin. Maybe that's why they're sticking together now.

He stands, levers himself up from the chair feeling far too tired for someone who actually got six hours of sleep last night despite his own best efforts. "Okay," he repeats, and offers a hand to shake on it. It isn't just agreement, though, it's a sign of trust. Jason could crush his fingers, snap his wrist with a twist of his own, if he wanted to. And yeah, he's done it before, but despite his own wariness, Tim wants to believe that Jason won't hurt him again. Not now.

Jason stares him down, a head taller and something wary in his own eyes. If Jason could hurt him physically, Tim is probably the most capable of causing emotional damage in return. He sees more on that front than most people do, even if Dick talks about it more. But Tim's purpose as Robin, no matter who he's partnering with, is to keep everyone in one piece. If that means physical safety, it's simpler. But if it means evening out his older brother's temper — magic, he knows, even if it isn't the same magic from when he was Robin — then he can do that too. When Jason takes his hand, he thinks that's understood.

Batman is darkness and protection, and Robin is light. Flickering, tired light, maybe, but light nonetheless. Bruce isn't gone, Tim won't believe that, and he thinks Jason doesn't want to either. There's a sense that this is temporary. Tim thinks they can make it work.

In another universe, another set of circumstances, even just minutely different from their own, the agreement would never come. There would be a fight and pain and Tim wouldn't be able to do anything to fix it, much as he wanted to — much as he sees. But in this one, middle children stick together. And Robin means grace, magic, hope, and Tim is all of those things that he's made himself, all those things they desperately need right now. It doesn't come with a fight. It's just who they are.

#friendly note that the author has never read a single comic I'm just vibin based on stuff i read online skfjskfjskf #shoutout to robin (brown little); nightwing (called-kept); disco (tea); and kaylie for filling me in about various dc things btw #Lu writes #batfam #tim drake #jason todd #btw this is just a crosspost from like a couple weeks ago

[brown-little-robin]

Hey, I’m struggling with time right now and being on tumblr is giving me a lot of rabbit holes to go down instead of... getting my life to be a little more steady... more fulfilled by God and diligent work and joyful rest than by instant-hits of happy chemicals. I will be off tumblr for one week (apart from publishing the next chapter tomorrow and some possible mob-blogging this weekend!) trying to establish some good habits.

I’ll be back next Wednesday. See you then!

#habits include: #1) being in the Bible every day #(yes Kaylie I'm sorry I don't do it every day right now. Yes I DO think of you when I think of doing Bible study) #(I'm hoping to get some diligence and joy in there together) #2) sleeping earlier #getting in my room by 11:00 and in bed SLEEPING by 11:30 #3) doing research at A Certain Time and doing off-computer work at A Certain Time #as long as do productive things every day the order doesn't really matter. #I'm thinking that starting with off-computer stuff (cleaning... sewing... cooking) #will give me a good foundation #and then after lunch I'll have the WHOLE afternoon to really dig into the writing and research of computer work. #I'm just trying it out in case it helps. #I will miss you all and be praying for you!

[luminewhosthat]

Can I just honestly rant about some things? Girl I really cannot get toby and Hannah's story outta my head. And like, the weirdest thing is, how is Avery still coping with this? I need the amount of mental strength she has. Toby and Hannah's story is going to be epic I just know it. I cannot wait to read games untold but at the same time I'm not ready for it. Toby was literally responsible for Kaylie's death, so I have no idea how the hell Hannah fell in love with him. Seems like Jackson was right when he said she was the damnest Rooney. So, Hannah hated him at first then started to like him? Truly strangers to enemies to lovers with hurt/comfort. Jennifer, I hope you're not going to destroy our mental health with whatever devastating story you're writing about them, I do not think I can handle the scene where toby leaves Hannah. JUST WHY COULDN'T THEY BE TOGETHER?!! Toby was such a coward for this, but hey, can't blame him. I hope we have both Hannah and toby's Pov. But toby's one sounds very interesting. What if the scene of Hannah birthing Avery is also there and it is from Hannah's Pov? Okay, goodbye. I cannot think straight anymore. It's already too much for me to bear.

I hope there is also snippet of Alice and Tobias's story, what made her runaway like this, is still a mystery and I hope it's going to be solved in Games Untold.

#the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne vault #Games Untold #toby hawthorne #hannah rooney #alice hawthorne #tobias hawthorne #jennifer lynn barnes #grayson davenport hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs

[utilitycaster]

Can you write about what you thought of how the Craven Edge consequences were adapted?

Sure!

[again, spoilers for C1 below if you are avoiding that]

I think a really big thing to remember is that when you strip away the D&D context, some beats in C1 just don't totally work, and a big one is that half the party died repeatedly during the Conclave arc and were resurrected each time. You want to make those feel like big moments, and so honestly the only deaths I'd keep (aside from Vex's that already occurred) are Percy's at Ripley's hand, and then, assuming we get more seasons, outside of that arc, Vax's death with Vecna, possibly Artagan, and obviously at the end, since those are "The Raven Queen has made you a revenant"). Vex and Percy's other deaths aren't terribly relevant to the narrative and are resolved quickly, and Scanlan's deaths could be exchanged from a particularly harsh encounter with Kaylie and some near death experiences plus some social rejections.

Anyway, what that means is that instead of having Grog die, you want a different negative consequence. (I also like how Grog is able to destroy the sword himself here, so that while he does have an arc of being a pathetic noodle man, he gets a good moment first.) So, anyway, pathetic noodle man hours. It fits well because the "where do you get your strength" line has been repeated (with Kamaljiori, not just with Groon), and it lines him up to discover his strength through relying on his friends and standing up for people (or so I presume, but like, the themes are constant even if exact plot notes differ), which also saves the second trip back to Vasselheim which I'd cut (make Vax's Raven Queen Temple Scene happen elsewhere). And, I think, it's worth noting that again that this show is trying to convey character themes and motivations that were revealed through hours of subtle gameplay in the campaign in like, five minutes. So having him extremely dependent on the others and quite literally being saved again by Wilhand and Pike (and, this time around, Scanlan as well) is a good strong parallel to drive it home.

The other good thing is just that removing any dignity he had is funny as shit and I support it.

#answered #Anonymous #tlovm spoilers #critical role #grog strongjaw

[the-french-belphegor]

So I wrote down three fic ideas for @critter-genfic-events's bingo card, one funny, one bittersweet, and one bittersweet with a heavy helping of sad, and for some reason my brain went "SAD. SAD FIRST", so here I am. Writing something with cuddling/missing someone/angst/post-campaign. I'll post it on AO3 (user name "Belphegor") ASAP.

—

The night was soft, warm, and silent. Pike barely heard the bedroom door open and a quiet footfall pad closer, floating as she was in that particular state between half-asleep and half-awake. She liked to try to stay up on the nights Scanlan played a Westruun tavern, but she was so comfortable despite the empty spot in the bed that she’d given up fighting off sleep long ago.

The mattress dipped a little on Scanlan’s side, tipping the balance towards consciousness. Then, surprisingly, nothing happened for a few long seconds.

Outside, an owl hooted.

“How’d it go?” she murmured eventually. Through the mattress she felt her boyfriend give a start.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Eh. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, absolutely,” she mumbled around a smile, very aware that she was slurring her words so much only someone who’d known her for as long as Scanlan had could make sense of them. Burying her face into the pillow probably didn’t help, either.

Scanlan didn’t make a witty remark or huff out a laugh. From what she could feel, he didn’t even move from his spot.

The silence and stillness jarred Pike awake completely.

“Scanlan?” she asked, rubbing her eyes to get them to focus faster. “Is everything okay?”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg tucked under him, bare-chested but wearing the short loose trousers he liked to sleep with.

(Scanlan liked to keep pants on at night in case of emergencies – or in case Grog barged in, which did happen occasionally. Pike had slept naked for four decades, most of them under the same roof as or a stone’s throw from her adopted brother, and saw no reason for things to change.)

When she spoke, he half turned to her and schooled his face into a smile instead of the half-lost look she could have sworn had been there a second ago.

“Sure. I should play the Golden Buck more often. You should see the fortune I made in tips!”

But the thing was, if Scanlan had known her long enough to decipher her words even when she was drunk, exhausted, or loopy from blood loss, Pike had learned a thing or two about him in that time, too. Kaylie remained the only person in existence who could tell in a heartbeat when he was lying, but Pike was getting pretty good at that as well.

She sat up and scooted closer. He’d placed a small candleholder on his bedside table, most likely to avoid tripping in the dark; the tiny flickering flame outlined the slope of his shoulders, the ridges of his worst scars, the vulnerable spot where his neck met his shoulder that she loved to kiss.

No point in calling him out for lying, even by omission. That would only be stating the obvious. Thus Pike jumped directly to the next logical step.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Scanlan’s shoulders slumped a little.

“Nothing. Just…” Emotion rippled across his face, like a breeze on water, and something about him crumbled. “Somebody requested ‘The Raven’s Wings’ again.”

Oh.

Scanlan had written many songs since the rise and fall of Vecna, mostly about Vox Machina. (Many were about Pike in some way or another. Her favourite of those was probably ‘The Lady’s Favour’, a cheerful ballad with the kind of lyrics that had to be sung after making sure the kids had all gone to bed.) A few of them were about Vax, of course, some cheeky, some solemn. ‘The Raven’s Wings’ was melancholic and haunting and unabashedly heartfelt; Scanlan had written most of it in one night while getting absolutely shitfaced with Pike and Grog. It had taken all of Pike’s powers of persuasion to convince him to actually make a real song out of it instead of burning the stained paper he’d scribbled the lyrics on.

She loved that song. Sometimes the melody snuck into her mind unexpectedly, and it felt both like poking a bruise and soothing an old hurt.

But she suspected it was somewhat different for Scanlan. Like everyone else, really.

Scanlan shivered a little when she gingerly wrapped herself around him from behind, skin to skin, scars to scars.

“It is a beautiful song, you know,” she said softly. “He’d love it.”

“It’s sappy, though.”

“What’s wrong with that?” The fact that Scanlan didn’t have a rejoinder was a good sign. Or a bad one, depending. “It’s a lovely tribute.”

This drew a sharp sigh from beneath her hands. She held him just a little tighter and waited.

“Yeah, but that’s… That’s it, it’s just a tribute. It doesn’t even say anything important about him. There’s nothing about what he was like, or… You know, like he was both really simple and really complex at the same time? I mean, he was such a shit, and he could brood worse than Percy, but also he was this ray of sunshine when he was happy… And he laughed, and he cried, and he wore his heart on his fucking sleeve and he let the whole world see it like it didn’t matter, and I never…”

He let out something that might have been a chuckle if not for the catch in his throat.

“I meant to ask him how he did that. Missed my shot in the end.”

“He made it look real easy,” murmured Pike, putting her chin on his collarbone, “but it’s really hard. But… I guess sometimes we do need reminders that it’s okay to, you know, feel things and show it. Even the bad stuff.” She paused. “Like the world’s not gonna stop because I say out loud that my friend is dead, and I miss my friend, and I’m sad.”

The worst thing about losing someone dear, Pike had found, were the regrets. The I should haves. The might have beens. She knew Scanlan still carried the weight of the wish he didn’t get to make; Scanlan knew about the quiet poisoned voice in her heart that sometimes whispered that her words to Vax – if the Raven Queen fucks with you, or hurts you, or doesn’t change you for the better, then she’s going to have to deal with me, and we’re going to have a problem – turned out to be meaningless and empty promises. She hadn’t been able to save him any more than Scanlan had, or any of them.

But at least she’d learned to stop pretending she was fine so everybody else could be okay. And start remembering they had each other to be not okay with.

Scanlan shifted a little in her arms to press a kiss into her temple and rested his forehead there for a moment.

And he prided himself on his words, that man of hers, but he didn’t give himself enough credit for his silences.

After a while, she asked him in a low voice, “Did you play the song?”

A two-tone hum answered her, then a wry chuckle. “I mean, I had asked for requests. And I know it’s not, you know, terrible music. Just… I could write all the songs I want and it still wouldn’t do him justice.” A beat. “What would you say? In a song about Vax, I mean. What would you like remembered?”

A soft smile with sharp edges. Warmth shining through sadness. Long hands with clever fingers, always gentle, even covered in blood. A trickster’s love for pranks. Mostly a heart so wide it could have contained enough love for a whole world and more.

“Fun buns,” she said softly.

“Hm?”

“We had this… thing, this little habit of doing each other’s hair up into fun buns. And… You know how he’d have a nickname for everyone? Nobody else ever called me ‘Pickle’. Just him. That’s a good thing to remember, I guess.”

Scanlan gently ran a hand up her forearm, rubbing the little hairs there the wrong way.

“I could work that into a song, if you’d like. Might even have a melody ready.”

Pike immediately shook her head.

“Oh no, it’s… That’s…”

Those memories were precious, and private, and hers. Sharing them with Scanlan, Grog, Vex, Keyleth, Percy, Tary – each of whom had their own set of precious private memories of Vax – was fine. But perfect strangers, who only knew of the Champion of the Matron of Ravens through what was essentially becoming folklore? That felt almost sacrilegious, in a way.

“…Don’t,” she finished lamely. “I know it’s stupid, but I kinda… want to keep some part of him for myself, I guess.”

“It’s not stupid,” murmured Scanlan into her hair. She could have sworn she could feel him grin just before he added, at the same low volume but in a very different tone, “Guess I’ll have to make it about the musician and the brave, strong sailor with the perfect breasts again. Sea shanties are always a win, right?”

“Idiot,” said Pike with a laugh that warmed her chest on the way up.

She knew she’d made her point, though – nicknames and fun buns would remain in the family. That still left Scanlan with plenty of material to write about Vax, anyway.

The conversation faded naturally after that. Pike blew the candle after she realised she was falling asleep right there against Scanlan, whose shoulders were still slumped, but for entirely different reasons than when he’d come in.

The night was still soft, warm, and silent. The bed felt much more comfortable with Scanlan clinging to her, one leg sprawled across her thighs and his head resting in the crook between her shoulder and her left breast. Everything was just as it should be – or the two of them were, at least. That was something.

She was teetering on the brink and starting to think him asleep too when she felt a touch of moisture on her chest, under his head, just where the corner of his eye would be. Then another.

“…Scanlan?” she mumbled.

He didn’t move; he only said thickly, in a voice so low she barely made out the words, “My friend is dead. I miss him. And I’m sad.”

Magic couldn’t fix everything, no matter how powerful. Words couldn’t really bring someone back, no matter how enticing. Sometimes the only thing left to do was to hold each other and let themselves grieve together.

Scanlan’s breathing came heavy and halting against her skin. She closed her arms tighter around him and murmured, “I know. Me too.”

They did fall asleep eventually, before their tears had dried.

—

I loved my friend.  He went away from me.  There’s nothing more to say.  The poem ends,  Soft as it began,— I loved my friend. 

(Langston Hughes)

(I almost went with Bastille's "Poet" but Hughes' poem rewired my brain long before I knew about either Bastille or Critical Role, so. I'm not ruling out the song one day, though.)

Here's hoping the next one is more cheerful! In the meantime, hope you liked 💜

#critter genfic bingo #critical role #vox machina #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #vax'ildan #pikelan #fanfiction #tlovm spoilers

[twistedsongstressofstarz]

🌠Kayliore Kathlena🌠

(she does have a general design, but i don't have time to finish the ref rn tho)

Name : Kayliore Amaria Kathlena

Nicknames : Kaylz, Kayli, Kiya, Mademoiselle Chanteuse D'Étoile, Lily (Rurianne)

Age : Undiscernibly fucking old (not even I know anymore)

Height : 5'5

Homeland : Briar Valley (Magic Kingdom Levianta too, somewhat)

Birthday : Jan 4

Species : Half-Fae (?)

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••General••⟭

Hair Color : Purple (of different shades, but still purple anyway)

Eye Color : Right yellow, Left pink

Gender : Female (she/they/star)

Sexuality : Bisexual

Family : Thiz iz private information

Favorite Food : Shrimp (Not yall tho, I'm not Banica), Iced Tea, Cake

Least Favorite Food : Broccoli (Ew)

Likes : Music, Songs, Drawing, Writing, Sewing, Rhythm games, Creative work, Vil (<;3), Causing Chaos

Dislikes : Being interrupted, Crowley, Being called weak (or vurnerable in any capacity), Harsh Rain, Loneliness, Art block

Hobbies : Music composition, Drawing, Writing

Personality : Being Pomefiore's resident songstress, Kayliore appears intimidating on the outside, concentrated on one goal. That is, what she appears like to people who don't know her that well. If you do, however, prepare for one of the most chaotic people you've ever met. Whether it be openly simping for her own dorm leader in front of her friends, indiscriminately stalking people in other universes through a music box, or talking nonsense about another world star's been in, Kayliore is an enigma to the majority of the school. And not to mention how cryptic they speak when something weird is happening.

There is, however, another side to her that even fewer people know. Even the most dramatic of songstresses have their vulnerable moments.

Occupation : Student, Resident Songstress (and apprentice Butai Shoujo™️)

Twisted from : Technically Twilight Melody and Stage of SEKAI (not really tho)

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••School Information••⟭

Dorm : Pomefiore

School Year : 2nd Year (Skipped several a grade!)

Class : 2-B

Best Subject : Ancient Magics, Musicology

Worst Subject : Flight

Club : Film Club <3

Dominant Hand : Right

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Unique Magic••⟭

Defy all doubts, by Twilight's Sound!

Twilight's Sound allows Kayliore to boost someone's mood, as well as their abilities connected to said mood. However, in return, Kayliore's own mood will go down. When the person they use this on goes about a mile away, the effect of the UM will stop, leaving both Kayliore and the person it was used on in a really, really bad mood.

They've only used it once before, and only save it for dire situations.

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Backstory••⟭

Something happened one day and I decided it'd be a good idea to record history through songz, whether that be of thiz world or many of the otherz. There'z more, but why would I tell you that right now?

[A Songstress' Tale of Origin]

◌☆————————————————☆◌

⟬••Trivia••⟭

Seemingly always knows where Aiyuu is

Knows things she isn't supposed to, but star really doesn't care.

Weirdly can change her voice to just about anything, like mimicking anyone's voice or making her's sound more robotic.

Stars magic seems to fluctuate in power sometimes, mostly because of her… trip.

#☆~songstress' oc friendz #☆~ kayliore #Kayliore Kathlena #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst

[daevastanner]

B E W I T C H E D

Merry Christmas to @headcanonheadcase! Your secret Santa gift for the @acotargiftexchange is ready! It was so tough to write something worthy of this hella talented fanfic author but I think I managed after a few tries ♥️ — Ive been itching to share this one…

A Gwynriel Winter Solstice one-shot featuring inspiration from Kayli x Simon in Firefly (the "you're pretty pretty" scene) and also, a holiday favorite of mine "Ever After" (I don't know why it's a holiday movie to me but it is).

Read it on Ao3

Azriel had told himself that asking Gwyn to be his date to the Winter Solstice party was a means to an end. It wasn’t a ‘real date,’ after all – it was simply his best friend attending Rhys and Feyre’s party with him so that he wouldn’t be the only person without a partner. Yes, tonight was not about being “Gwyn’s date”, it was about ensuring his family didn’t cast pitying glances his way all evening. 

But when she’d met him on the terrace of the House, swathed in a long-sleeved velvet dress that appeared to be spun from the midnight sky, he couldn’t help the way his stomach had flipped. He couldn’t help the breath that had been stolen from his lungs as her hips swayed when she approached him. He couldn’t help but feel like he was truly her date.

The feeling only intensified when they had entered the river house together, arms linked. Azriel’s family had spotted him with the pretty Valkyrie on his arm and the spymaster’s back had straightened with pride, his shadows purring contentedly.  The week leading up to the party, Azriel had notified everyone in the inner circle that Gwyn would be attending as his friend, wanting to ensure no one mistook their relationship and made the priestess uncomfortable by mistake. Now though, with Gwyn mingling and making Rhys laugh and even leading everyone in a carol song after dinner, he found he wanted her to be his real date. 

“Are you alright, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn asked, catching him staring at her, lost in thought.

Azriel nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes.” He pointed to the copper mug of mulled wine she’d been nursing. “Do you want some more?” 

“Oh, yes please,” she smiled, thrusting the cup at his chest. She pointed to the roaring hearth across the parlor they’d all retired to after supper. “Meet me over there?” 

Azriel hummed in agreement and exited the room, the busy conversation dulling to a hum as he trailed further down the hall and into the vacant kitchen. 

Ladling more warm wine into the two copper mugs, Azriel took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had explicitly brought Gwyn here to be his date, friend or not. Perhaps it was only natural he was feeling these… things. Perhaps for tonight, it was permissible to desire Gwyneth Berdara as his date. Perhaps that could be his Solstice gift to himself – to allow himself to consider Gwyn as more than his best friend. 

She’s always been more… his shadows crooned.

Azriel double-fisted the mugs, rolling his eyes. I am aware of your fondness for her.

We are aware of yours… they sang back.

They were always a little saucier when he’d had a bit to drink. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. At least not for tonight. 

🌲

“But think about it,” Gwyn said, bracing her free hand atop the plush carpet they sat on, her teal eyes fixed on Azriel so intensely that his heart stuttered.  “Just think about the incredible things that you could do for Prythian!”

The mulled wine had numbed his self-preservation, he didn’t care that his family milling about the room could be potentially eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’m not blind to the influence I have with being spymaster to the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. But you forget that this position– it comes at a cost, Berdara.” Azriel exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. “It’s difficult to only be seen as ‘the shadowsinger’ or ‘the spymaster’ instead of who I am. You’ve got no idea how aggravating that is.” 

The fire from the hearth beside them set the priestess’s hair aflame as she took a timid sip from her cup, then grimaced. “I don’t?”

His stomach turned, cheeks heating at the mistake. Of course Gwyn had an idea of how aggravating it was to be defined by what she was rather than who she was. She was a priestess in the library known as a haven for victims of trauma, and a Carynthian — yet people only seemed to consider the latter. She was consistently viewed as fragile and breakable, most only seeing her circumstances and not her achievements. 

“Apologies,” Azriel murmured, glaring at his wine as he set it down on the rug beside them. The stupid drink was to blame for his poor choice of words. “But until you become High Lord of every Court, my stupid, idealistic plans will have to wait.”

“Training females in self defense is not stupid or idealistic,” Gwyn insisted. The eyes that had been glassy with drink seconds ago were now fierce with resolve. “What’s stupid is you not even trying to make a difference because you’re scared that people will judge you.”

Azriel leveled her with a look. “They will judge me. They’ll see me and think my aim is to recruit more eyes. My blood-soaked reputation has soiled any chance I have at appearing sincere–”

Gwyn interrupted him, her fierce expression now imploring. “No, no, no,” she slurred, putting down her cup now. “I may not leave the library often, but I am knowledgeable about Prythian and you are not alone in having an image that precedes you. Take High Lord Tarquin, he’s seen as young and naive when he has in actuality, made enormous strides for the Summer Court. Helion is known for his humor and debauchery, but he is in possession of the vastest library in the world. Kallias of the Winter Court is seen as cold and brusque, but his progressive legislation betrays his compassion.” Gwyn shook her head at him. “Nobody is just one thing, Shadowsinger. That is something that everyone can recognize.” 

Gods and Cauldron and Mother above, she was stunning. The passion in her voice, the conviction in her eyes. It was a siren’s song to his soul.

She went on, “The position you have been given comes with specific duties that have painted your reputation, true enough.” Her features softened into a knowing smile. “But that position is not who you are and more people know that than you realize. So I beg you, do not give up on your dream of educating the females of Prythian on how to defend themselves, Shadowsinger.” 

Azriel felt the edge of his lip lift involuntarily at the warmth in her voice. Her vigor, her good nature, was truly infectious. He could drown in it. 

“And now that I’m comfortable leaving the library, perhaps I could accompany you on this tour. You could offer me up as a demonstration!” she suggested eagerly. 

The smile on Azriel’s lips broadened at her enthusiasm, at the way her eyes twinkled in the firelight. Even if it was only for tonight, he was honored to be her date. Anyone would be, were they lucky enough to be in his position. Gwyn was clever and kind and spirited. A breath of fresh air. 

Gwyn winced then, laughing softly. “I’m sorry, Shadowsinger. I think the wine… My mouth has run away with me.” 

Before he could stop himself, Azriel’s eyes darted to her mouth, the pink twist of those clever lips. When he forced himself to meet her eyes again, he found she was still smiling, but seemingly holding her breath. A tendril of shadow extended in her direction as though trying to draw her nearer and Azriel flushed. 

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way she stroked his ego. Maybe it was that beautiful dress or her pretty face. Whatever it was, Azriel’s resolve to think of her as his date crumbled.  He wanted to speak to her like she was his date.

Allowing just the barest hint of a smile, Azriel replied, “No, priestess, don’t apologize. It is your mouth that has me bewitched.” 

Gwyn didn’t look surprised by the statement, but rather touched – her glittering eyes softening. Her stare darted to his lips and Azriel thought his chest may burst. He fought the pleasant haze of alcohol, allowing her another moment to consider if this was what she wanted. It was the longest moment of his life. 

Then Gwyn leaned forward slightly, still sitting on her knees. 

Throat bobbing, Azriel straightened as well, their gazes locking as little by little, they inched closer. 

Face to face now, Azriel could hear her heavy breathing, see her chest heaving. The sparking in his chest flared and his heart squeezed. Gwyn smiled gently, the expression making her eyes narrow slightly. It undid him. 

Azriel inclined his head, slanting his lips over hers. He stilled, allowing her to decide how far this would go. 

After another agonizing moment, her lips moved against his, deepening the kiss. Azriel kissed her back, his brows drawing together as he tried to memorize the feel of her. Something about this event felt monumental. Like he would remember it until he was old and gray.

His hand lifted, sliding beneath her hair to cup the nape of her neck as the sound of their family conversing in the background faded into nothing. All Azriel could hear was the music of their thundering hearts as they gave in, mouths moving in a beautiful rhythm as old as time itself. 

More. More. More. 

He wanted more of her. 

He wanted more evenings by the fire, drinking wine and trading stories. 

He wanted these evenings until his dying breath. 

He wanted and wanted and want—

A loud ‘whooping’ noise that could only belong to one of his brothers shattered the moment, and briefly, Azriel thought he was going to have to ruin this party and murder one of them. But then he felt Gwyn smile against his mouth, pulling away and looking out at the parlor with a bashful grin. 

Surprised at how quickly his ire faded, Azriel mirrored Gwyn’s expression, following her gaze to where Cassian stood next to Nesta, applauding, clearly deep in his cups. The eldest Archeron was smiling like a cat who’d trapped its prey, glancing between the two Carynthians. By the bar-cart, Morrigan looked touched by the display, offering Azriel a warm smile. 

When Cassian didn’t stop applauding and Rhysand joined in, Gwyn laughed, averting her gaze. Azriel followed suit, shaking his head. 

But despite Azriel’s blushing and protests that everyone mind their business, he had never been happier. 

🌲

Azriel walked Gwyn to the top of the stairs, leading down to the library’s dormitories, stopping short at the exit when she turned and placed her palms on his chest in warning. “We’ll say goodnight here. I don’t want to wake anybody.”

Azriel nodded, quite liking the feeling of Gwyneth Berdara’s hands on him. He looked down at her and smiled softly, which immediately resulted in a flattering shade of pink painting her speckled cheeks. “I appreciate it, Berdara, you being my date tonight. You may have saved my Winter Solstice.”

Gwyn laughed, a quiet sound. “A priestess does what she can, Shadowsinger.” 

Before he could stop himself, he corrected her earnestly, “Azriel.”

The priestess’s eyes flashed, her grin was demure as she nodded and said, “Handsome.” 

Azriel blinked in surprise, struggling not to chuckle at her. He clearly wasn’t the only one who had a bit too much to drink tonight. 

Gwyn’s hands left his chest, coming up to cover her mouth. “Oh, I– No, I–”

The shadowsinger smiled and returned, “Beautiful.” 

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, but he could tell she wasn’t displeased with his compliment. In fact, his shadows were kind enough to relay that she was ‘delighted.’ A Solstice gift of their own as they were often keen on giving the priestess her privacy. 

Gwyn dipped her head in farewell, and Azriel offered her a sketch of a bow. Then she turned and started for the stairs behind her. 

Azriel loosed a shuddering breath, his limbs delectably warm–

Then Gwyneth Berdara reappeared in front of him and raised up on her tiptoes, pecking him on the lips one final time. Startled, but elated, Azriel kissed her back.

She lowered herself, pulling away slowly, then started walking backwards towards the stairwell once more. “Goodnight, Azriel.”  

Once she disappeared out of sight, the shadowsinger found himself touching his swollen lips, the scent of Gwyn lingered on his fingertips. 

“Goodnight, Gwyn.” 

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn and azriel #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #ao3 #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2022

[blorbologist]

i wanna know about kyssandra kith........also more mew 🥺🥺

okokokokok

so

I used to be clinically neutral on all Cassandra ships. Cass and Kaylie, Cass and Desmond, Cass and Kynan, Cass too aroace for this shit.

And then I started writing Two for joy, and Kynan. Would not. Stop. Swooning. He has such a huge fucking crush on her it makes him stupid and gods forbid Percy notices (please notice it'll be funny as shit).

And then I remembered that, per Tal'Dorei reborn, Cass never has a spouse mentioned, and in Campaign 3 a spouse is never mentioned then either, and Kynan is still around.

And I decided Cass fucking deserves nice things, right?

Enter, this complete dork.

Both of them have been through absolute hell, and of similar sorts. Kynan's family and most people he knew are likely dead. Emon burned. I mean, his dad was a shitfuck, but he must have lost friends, too, other relatives, so much. He's trusted by both Percy and Vax, to the degree that he's made the head of the Riflemen. What this kid means, as far as Percy ending the cycle of vengeance ("I forgive you, but I cannot let you leave", Kynan allied with Ripley, Kynan played a part in killing Percy, and he's forgiven, too.) and Vax's legacy (Vax specifically requests he guard Cassandra... and then Vax dies) just... holds him up v gently.

Despite all he's been through, Kynan still fumbles, and can't handle his drink (makes sense with an alcoholic father), and just wants to try his best. He's young.

Cass shed her youth like a skin, wears maturity like armor. She lost almost everyone, too.

I think, with Kynan, they could catch up on those lost years. Be blushing, awkward teenagers. Walk around all moon-eyed. Try to sneak around without Percy noticing (Vex would spot them in an INSTANT tho). Kynan wasn't here for the Briarwoods. He doesn't know the Cassandra that she hates, he just knows a strong leader who gags at her brother's antics.

They're also both Rogue/Fighter multiclasses. Think of the POTENTIAL: sneaking around the castle together! Kynan explaining to her how Percy's guns work because gods forbid he talk about it. Cass showing him how to wield a rapier, that stance is revolting, keep your back straight.

It's bodyguard/royal romance!!! With rediscovery of childhood wonder!!! And overlapping trauma!!

Clears throat

anyways.

The premise of the fic itself is that Cassandra keeps slipping her guard to go hide. Partially out of habit - she knows the secret passages well, it's how she initially survived the attack and got Percy out, and she could slip away when the Briarwoods became too much. Partially because she's just fucking overwhelmed, and rankled Vax thinks she needs a bodyguard, and after years around undead and a vampire and a necromancer and their few living lackeys, this much noise and life is too much. She needs alone time.

Kynan is also a rogue. He can find her, pretty easily, most of the time.

It eventually leads to them talking and being honest once Cass blows up at him for finding her somewhere she was sure he couldn't follow... and eventually it becomes a bit of a game of cat and mouse. And Kynan makes himself a little map to keep track. Maybe they start leaving little notes and gifts for eachother.

And then Cass is gone.

Kynan checks every secret spot, every stash, every nook, every cranny.

Vecna took her.

Vecna took her, and Vex'ahlia, her sister in law, shot her down with arrows (arrows in the snow, Percy running) and she died.

He's not her friend. He's not - no. He's her bodyguard. It was his job to protect her. Keep her safe.

He failed.

This is his fault.

(And Vax'ildan is dead, and Percival and Vex are expecting a whole ass kid, and Cass is in a depressive spiral, and what the fuck can he do about it?)

#kyssandra #cassandra de rolo #kynan leore #critical role #percival de rolo #campaign 1

[walkawaytall]

Fannish Year Review - 2023

snagged from @diplomaticprincess

1. your main fandom of the year: Star Wars -- after like three years of feeling way-too-sensitive about the series, I decided to take that whole Marie Kondo approach to fandom: keep what brings you joy and throw the rest into an active volcano (or...something like that. It's been a minute since I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, but I'm sure that's an accurate synopsis that Marie would be totally fine with on her book's dust jacket). And then I started writing fanfiction, which has been fun.

Though...though...I did revisit The Hunger Games this year and made my bestie into an HG fan, so that series has certainly played a part.

2. have u watched a film this year: I've only been to theaters twice this year -- once for the Return of the Jedi 40th anniversary rerelease, once to see Barbie. I don't think I've watched many new things this year, to be honest. Mainly rewatches.

3. your favorite book this year: Oof, my reading list is embarrassingly short this year. Probably Nine Liars by @maureenjohnsonbooks. It's the 5th book in a YA mystery series and love that entire dang series so much.

4. your favorite album or song this year:

Album: Stick Season by Noah Kahan

Song: Probably "Happier Than Ever" by Billie Eilish, but I'm honestly not certain

5. your favorite tv shows this year: I think I rewatched Severance twice this year, so...Haaaa...

6. your favorite tumblr community this year: Han/Leia, but I also follow some Little Women accounts that I've quite enjoyed.

7. your best new fandom discovery of the year: I did start watching Ted Lasso, but kind of forgot about it, though the show is delightful. I feel like I've been very hyperfocused on Star Wars stuff this year tbh.

8. your biggest fandom disappointment of the year: You know what, I rarely hate on specific ships publicly, but having one of my posts in which I was spitballing a headcanon involving Tarkin and Leia having an absurd rivalry while she was like 16-19 years old that was similar in tone to Jack Donaghy and Kaylie Hooper from 30 Rock (a relationship that is entirely not sexual on account of Kaylie being fifteen when she first pops up on the show) reblogged multiple times with Leia/Tarkin shipping tags might just have been the most disappointing fandom-related thing to happen to me personally this year. I don't even know if this is the type of answer the question was looking for, but uh...it was definitely the most disappointing.

9. your tv/movie boyfriend and/or girlfriend of the year: I'm...not entirely sure how to answer this tbh.

10. your biggest squee moment of the year: I've received a lot of really nice comments on my stories this year, but there have been a handful left where I really felt...seen? if that makes sense. Like, the commenters wrote something where I felt like someone fully understood what I was trying to do, which doesn't always happen, and those have definitely been exciting moments for me.

Self-service tagging today!

#it me

[gloomiegalaxie-sims]

Goodbye Tomarang~

i don't know how to write so sorry if this is dorky as shit. i tried lol

Demeter woke up to a realization that she wasn't happy. Each morning she woke up, left their room and went through the motions each day. Tend the garden, fight with a roommate, open the vet clinic, go home, fight with roommates again, fix an exploded appliance. Rinse. Repeat.

Their landlord was incompetent at best and indifferent to the disrepair of the house. Felipe was usually screaming about their dog yet himself was a complete slob. Her relationship with Kaylie is off more than on, and while she isn't considering settling down, she no longer has the energy.

She made the decision to leave, and the even more difficult decision to break things off with Kaylie. While Kaylie was upset, they understood and the breakup was amicable. They aren't looking for anything serious either and shared Demeter's sentiments about Tomarang, and really life in general. They both feel like young adults floundering, getting through each day but never really experiencing joy.

With a heavy heart, Demeter also sold the vet clinic and decided to say goodbye to the profession altogether. The time spent running, being the lead vet and constantly training (unfortunately useless) technicians was no longer sustainable.

She broke their lease. She wants to find somewhere stable to call home, something that's never quite been within reach throughout her life. Demeter deeply hopes that this will be the last major move in her life.

Everything has been packed up, by morning she will be in Sulani.

#ts4 #simblr #sims4 #ts4 simblr #my sims #ts4 gameplay #vulgarislegacy #sims 4 #demetervulgaris #ts4 screenshots #ts4 screenies #ts4 legacy

[hypnotisedfireflies]

11, 14, and 30!

Thank you, Kayli! :)

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

I don't think anything is overrated. There's things I don't enjoy reading myself but I wouldn't begrudge them anyone else! The only thing I can really think of that I think is overrated as such is the jealousy trope. I think trust is a lot sexier and there are better ways to introduce conflict than having a character flying off the handle because the object of their desire made them jealous.

14. Write and share the first sentence of a new fic. Just that.

I only really write one thing at a time, but I did write the first chapter of the SQ sequel before getting waylaid with IO. However, I will probably rewrite the entire thing. At present, the first sentence of it is: "Tick, tick, tick." But yeah, I think it's all getting scrapped.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

I was going to write an AU as part of the Cloud Nine series, but changed it to something else instead. It was what would've happened had Tess not been bitten, there are no Fireflies at the meet-up, and what Joel and Tess would've done with Ellie. I didn't work out very much before choosing a different AU topic.

Thank you for your questions!

Ask Game

#ask game #fanfic asks #tlou fanfic #asks

[oliviassunrise]

Hi Kayli hope you're doing well and that you're enjoying your weekend!

So, I send this ask about A&A and I'm not sure if you got it.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how happy it makes me that you updated, that chapter has been my only waking thought for a little while 😆 it was catastrophically bad, laughed at some parts, and the beautiful build up to that slight realization of feelings was everything to me. You rock, and your fic rocks, and I know I've been awful and showing support, but remember that's one of my favorites and I'm looking forward for more, thanks for allowing us to read it! 🫶🏼

Ahhhh thank you, Vane!! (And you are one of the best cheerleaders. Never doubt that.)

I’ve had so much fun writing the family drama. About to dive deeper in the new chapter that’s in progress, but I’m hoping to continue injecting humor into it. (When it comes to family, sometimes if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry. You know what I mean?) I was honestly a little worried that spending a few chapters elsewhere would be kind of alienating or pull people out of the story? Hopefully it’s not. Trying to be real intentional about holding onto that Tessjoel connection without overdoing it.

Tess just needs this moment to push her toward where she needs to end up; she’s gotta face the things that hold her down. I also need to let Joel have a moment soon, because I feel like the story has been very Tess-centric, and this is meant to be about both of them.

Anyway, grateful to have you on this ride! On its good days, this story has been a joy to write.

#ask kayli #a&a

[waltwhitmansbeard]

How about ✊("protecting") for Scanlan and Kaylie? (You decide who's doing the protecting!)

Send me emoji(s) and I'll write a drabble

The thing about becoming a crime lord that Scanlan did not prepare for was all the enemies he'd create along the way. Maybe he's naïve, or maybe he'd just gotten so used the feeling of invincibility that came with being a member of Vox Machina, but it doesn't take long into his stay in Ank'harel for him to accumulate an impressive list of enemies, each of whom would like to see him and his daughter dead.

Which, yeah, that takes a good deal of the thrill away. Kaylie's got his sense of self-preservation, but also his sense of recklessness, and as a result she's fairly blasé about all of the people the two of them have managed to piss off in their relatively short stint here in Marquet, but Scanlan's not as enthusiastic about the situation. Anyone who comes for him is going to be coming for her, too, and it would be just his luck to get his kid killed mere months after actually establishing some kind of relationship with her. More than once he's tried to convince her to take a step back, to disassociate herself from him, just for her own safety, but tenacity is also a heritable trait, it seems, and she's refused on every occasion.

Which is how they end up here, in the back alley of a tavern in the Suncut Bazaar, starting down the business end of three scimitars with their hands in the air.

Behind the brutish oafs wielding the blades, a tall, thin human man with dark hair and too much jewelry paces a half-circle, affecting an air of boredom that Scanlan has employed many times himself. "Tell me why I should strike you dead where you stand."

Kaylie scoffs. "As if you could."

The human's teeth flash. "Big words from one so small. I could chop you to bits like a steak on my dinner plate."

"Rabi," Scanlan says slowly, carefully, "why don't we talk without the swords, huh? What could you possibly have to say that couldn't be said over a drink inside?"

"Some things are better said in blood," Rabi replies dryly, "like, stop undercutting my prices."

"You're bad at business and it's our fault," Kaylie says, tone dripping in sarcasm. "Have you ever considered that maybe you just suck?"

There's a choked noise in Scanlan's throat as all three scimitars close in on Kaylie's throat. It's a threat, but it's also an opportunity; now that the attention is off of him, he is able to quickly mutter something under his breath, and in the next instant, he and Kaylie are in the middle of the busy street, a few hundred feet away from where Rabi and his goons had been threatening her a heartbeat before.

"RUN!" Scanlan grabs Kaylie's arm and yanks her into a dead sprint away from the alley. Sometimes there are benefits to being tiny, like disappearing seamlessly into a crowd of drunken revelers and gamblers. Scanlan can hear Rabi's shouts behind him, but it's too late; Scanlan tugs Kaylie into an inn, where he immediately disguises both of them as an elderly gnomish couple.

Kaylie frowns. "What was that for?"

He's confused. "The dimension door or the seeming?"

"All of it! We could have taken them!"

Scanlan huffs out a sigh. "We could have, but Rabi is lethal and pissed. It's better to get out alive than to get your ass kicked for no reason."

Kaylie crosses her arms. "Seems like a coward's way of thinking to me."

He grits his teeth. Sometimes he wonders if she inherited anything from her mother at all. "I've been a coward, and I've been a hero. Guess which one got me killed. Twice."

She avoids his eyes then, the shame not at all hidden by his spell. He doesn't know how to make her get it, how to make her see that there's no amount of glory or heroics that's ever going to get him to risk her life. He leaves her to stew, hobbles to the door of the inn just in time to watch Rabi and his men rush past, clearly at a loss for where they could have gone. He waits to see them disappear further down the thoroughfare before returning to Kaylie. "Come on. Let's go home. We'll figure out our next move there."

He turns back toward the door, but freezes when Kaylie says, "I don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself."

He doesn't know how to make her get it. "Too fucking bad." He walks away, shoving out of the inn and into the bustling nightlife of Ank'harel.

#ask #Anonymous #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #scanlan shorthalt #kaylie shorthalt #my fic

[potatoesandsunshine]

ooh good questions! I'm gonna say 1, 2, 10, and 4 for my beloved now is the season of the hunter death <3

thank you hannah!!!! these questions come from this post.

1.What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

this is such a hard question for me and i don’t really feel like i have a good answer!! i guess it depends on what fandom someone was into? and i’m not really a fan of any of my pre-2020 fic anymore (i’m glad it got me where i am as a writer now but it kinda feels like looking back at pictures from middle school; like, loveable cringe?). i guess if fandom wasn’t a factor i’d choose most agitated hands, be my salvation because it feels like it exemplifies what i like to do best, which is turn characters over in my brain and make up activities for them to do. the small jobs series is also a distillation of me at my most Me (coming back to a ten year old video game and insisting that two women should’ve kissed). i know i’ve written so much cr over the years but sometimes i can’t find myself in those stories :(

2.Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

okay skip over the tlovm spoiler tag that’s just in there because i’m trying to finish the oneshots series. i guess that does represent my writing habits lately but it doesn’t represent Me As A Writer. other than that i think this is pretty accurate! the line between angst and light angst is something i often go with my gut on and i do love to write canon divergence AUs. and honestly i like writing about friendship more than i like writing most shippy stuff so i’m glad that’s in there :)

10.How do you decide what to write?

i wait for inspiration and then i stay up really late when it hits. i do not have good writing discipline and i have never managed to get the ‘write every day even if it’s just a hundred words’ habit. because it’s a hobby/for fun, i try really hard not to put too much pressure on myself and just lean into whatever idea feels best at the time. there are a couple things i’m not really interested in writing so it’s easy to stay away from them, but other than that i’ll just write whatever comes to me. i wrote about the elder scrolls: oblivion earlier this year and i’m working on a sequel fic when that game came out in 2006.

4.What detail in now is the season / of the hunter Death are you really proud of?

the fact that any chapters of it ever get finished at all every time anyone references the scars vox machina have left (however inadvertently!) on these characters is a moment i love. kaylie has a scar around her neck and one on her torso from vax killing her and she’s not sure if she’s ‘allowed’ to be mad about it. cassandra is carrying around the arrowheads her sister-in-law sniped her with. and this little moment in chapter three is like a crystallization of these three characters:

kynan looks back in regret, kaylie looks forward with a kind of angry optimism, and cassandra’s trying to figure out who she is in the present moment. it feels kinda cliche but i love it and it’s the guiding star of this fic’s characterization.

#hannah when i write now is the season it is literally JUST for us. and someday i WILL finish it 😤😤😤 #answering asks #ask game #thanks again!!!!!!!!!!!

[leslie-lyman]

Hello there! Just dropping by to say that Stranger at my Gate is such a lovely fic! So warm and cosy and hot and wonderful! I’ve not watched the film so I don’t know what Pero is supposed to be like but your fic has made me want to seek him out. Would you be able to rec some Pero fics? Fluffy, smutty, plotty or AU - all welcome! I just feel like.. you’ll know good fics ☺️😉

Aww thank you so much anon! The Great Wall is…not a great film, but Pedro is definitely the best part of it. I think it’s potentially worth watching once, just to see Pero.

That said, I absolutely do have Pero fic recs!! Mostly because I have astonishingly talented friends who have blessed us with many amazing Pero fics. Okay, off the top of my head:

@ezrasbirdie just started posting a new modern bodyguard AU that has me utterly fucking FERAL. It’s also been a million years since I’ve read Cherry Wine, her other Pero series, but it’s Birdie so I’d rec anything she writes no hesitation.

@lowlights has a whole masterlist of Pero fics she’s written, both modern AUs and canon timeline, and all are excellent. Her Brujita-verse featuring dad!Pero makes me melt into a puddle of goo every time!

@thewayofthemandalorian also has several Pero fics on offer, but her latest in-progress fic, All’s Faire, is a modern AU featuring Pero and reader in an enemies-to-lovers scenario as they both work a summer medieval faire, and I have been LOVING IT. (Even if, forgive me Gillian, I have been bad about reblogging and telling you as much!)

@oonajaeadira’s whole masterlist is a smorgasbord of decadent delights for all sorts of Pedro boys, but her Pero works have a special place in my heart. Branded is an amazing work of creativity and world-building and chemistry between the two leads. Dulces Sueños took me on a whole-ass emotional journey that I never wanted to end. And Primroses: A Sign of Early Spring made my heart stop in my chest, but only for good reasons!

@writeforfandoms has one of my favorite takes on a time-traveling Pero with her Born to be Wild ‘verse. I especially love the Halloween installment!! And Jen has several other Pero stories and you should read them all, but The Voice is one of the most unique and gorgeous fics I’ve ever read for any character, not just Pero.

@beskarberry has a great list of Pero fics, but Unbridled is my favorite of hers! I dunno if monsterfucking is your thing, anon, but if it is, this one is a fantastic and wild ride (hehe).

@absurdthirst has so many great Pero fics! But I especially love Keri’s take on a modern bodyguard AU with The Client, and because I am a shameless wh*re for the a/b/o trope I always drool over The Primal Prize featuring alpha!Pero.

@littlemisspascal’s Little Red’s Shadow was one of the first Pero fics I think I ever read, and it played such a role in making me fall in love with his character! How I absolutely adore werewolf!Pero.

@chaoticgeminate’s entire Iridescence universe is fucking incredible. Kelly has built a whole fictional universe featuring nearly all the Pedro boys in different fantastical roles, and the Pero series in that universe is Precious Sea Glass featuring dragon!Pero (!!!!!).

@starlightmornings is another fabulous writer with several Pero stories, and since I started this list with a modern bodyguard AU I’ll end it with Kaylie’s canon timeline bodyguard story, Sworn to Protect!

I know I have barely scratched the surface of all the amazing Pero fics and writers we have in this fandom and I am sure I am forgetting people. Anon, you should also check out the Pedro Library run by @littlemisspascal if you haven’t already, Rae does the indispensable work of collecting all Pedro fics in one place, and I’m sure there are tons of amazing Pero fics waiting for you to discover there!

Okay y’all, who did I miss? If anyone has additional recs for anon, feel free to reblog and say so, or drop them in my inbox!

#answered asks #fic rec