I must know about hanahakish!

🔥\o/🔥 hanahakish is my special little baby project, the most self-indulgent of blorbo blenders.

it is pretty much exactly what it sounds like! essek catches an engineered variant of frigid woe during the aeor arc, and the somatic components to Spell of Don't Die Horribly include a kiss from someone who loves you.

here's a little (unedited) bit of the middle:

-

"That—"

Caleb kisses him. It's short, closed-mouthed, and deliberate. He pulls away again, hands still on Essek’s arms as though to hold him at a distance, and Essek reminds himself to breathe.

"You are very important to our goals," Caleb says in a rush.

His gaze flicks down to Essek's mouth. As though unconsciously, he runs a thumb along his own bottom lip. For a moment, Essek is certain he's about to lean in again and do it properly. Then he straightens, clearing his throat, and looks away.

“This—I did not intend for—”

He curls his lip, muttering something unintelligible. Essek’s heart threatens to claw its way out his mouth.

It’s the finest knife to slip between his ribs. Caleb loves him—truly, provably loves him—but wishes he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” catches in his throat.

He bites down hard on the inside of his lip. There is little he can do to make this easy for Caleb, but at the very least he can keep from crying.

“Don’t be.” Caleb’s hand twitches in his lap. “I will save you a hundred times over, if that is what needs doing.”

If it needs doing. If kissing Essek is necessary, Caleb will do the practical thing. The potion went down easier than this. Essek swallows it anyway, pushing back the hair stuck to his forehead.

“Your help is appreciated.”

WAIT jason's murder world tour?! FROM THE EYES OF THE BATS?!??? hell YES

i feel like a lot of people just forget about his travel training, like just go Pit → Gotham so i'm always excited to see stuff about what he got up to!! and from the bats' perspective is such mwah DELICIOUS

(in response to this and this, and maybe this, from the wip title ask game)

Wow, this is getting a lot more interest than I anticipated. And here I was worried that Incident Review was going to come across as boring.

One of the things I love about the world murder tour is that it’s canon (or it used to be - for the love of god dc, get your shit together) but it’s so vague and open-ended. So you can do anything with it. Makes my little fanfic writer brain squeal with joy.

Thanks for the ask, anon!!! 🩵

Quick Now Here Now Always? For WIP-Ask game?

This is the sequel to England and Nowhere, Never and Always, picking up right where that one left off with Dream and Hob and Finn as an extremely newly-formed family unit!

Like. Picking up exactly where that one left off.

Dream lay for a little while in the warm quiet of Hob's bed, enjoying the feeling of being right where he belonged. There were things to do--Hob's home was not stocked for the care and feeding of Finn, a topic on which Dream was happily supplied with a great deal of practical information. He was certain that he could find what he needed in the dreams of others tonight, so that it would all be in readiness when Finn and Hob woke in the morning, but...

It did not take long before he felt Finn starting to dream. Dream had promised that Finn could sleep safely tonight; he would not leave his newfound son unattended now. Dream let his awareness of the Waking world fade as he slipped into Finn's dream, but he kept his grip on Hob's hand, his body still located in Hob's bed. This did not work quite as he meant it to; Dream found himself back in Finn's barren little bedroom in his mother's flat, but with Hob's dreaming self at his side, still hand in hand with him. Hob was not a naturally lucid dreamer; he had the soft edges and slightly unfocused gaze of a very ordinary human experiencing a dream that he would only half-remember. Dream could have changed that, but he thought it better to let nature take its course as much as possible, when he had already interfered to the extent of Finn and Hob sharing this dream with himself present to look after them. He drew Hob with him, to the place where the dream wanted Dream to be. He took that space for himself and dismissed the simulacrum of him Finn's dream had shaped, and Hob knelt readily at his side. Finn lay before them on the bare mattress that had been his bed when he first lay down tonight, and presumably for years before. He held his blanket to his face, and those cruel iron wires were back in place at his wrists and ankles and middle; Dream could feel the malevolent presence of the one around his throat by its weight in the dream, even if it was not actually visible yet. Dream meant to wait patiently for Finn to wake or make some first move--it was Finn's dream after all, and being too hasty was the one mistake he could see he'd made in the waking version of this moment--but he had not reckoned on Hob. As soon as he knelt at Dream's side he was reaching out a hand, saying, "Oh, no, sweetheart! What's all this?" Finn lowered the blanket from his face and looked up at them, blinking at the addition of Hob but not seeming at all alarmed. Dream felt it when Finn focused on him, on Dadda, here, the light and gravity of the dream shifting around him. He still kept his grip on Hob, but manifested an extra hand so that he could, at the same time, reach out one hand to brush gently over Finn's cheek, and use another to begin freeing him from the wires. "Dadda is here, my darling boy. You are safe now. You will always be safe now." That was the key; a dim awareness of what had come before and what would follow after suffused the dream, but all Finn's hope and fear narrowed in on those elements, which in this retelling of the night was conveniently collapsed into a single moment. His father had come, had identified himself, had set Finn free from the cold bonds of iron; the dream did not require the misstep which had left its permanent mark on Dream's arm, though Dream was rather pleased to have it. This was Finn's dream, and so time stretched and looped on itself, as Finn's dreaming self lingered in the moment of his father coming to him, of knowing who this was, that he was safe. Of being freed by gentle hands, again and again and again, until Finn could begin to believe that it was true.

HUAQING GAY CHICKEN PLEASE

I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD ASK

It’s not a romance. Mu Qing isn’t blind to Xie Lian’s knowing looks and unsubtle comments. For all his lack of interest in personally experiencing romance or the like, Xie Lian seems to delight in the idea that Mu Qing and Hua Cheng have fallen into some sort of wild forbidden romance. That is blatantly false. “So, what do I get for not killing you?” Hua Cheng asks, sounding a bit bored, as he tilts E’ming’s blade a hair closer to Mu Qing’s neck. For one thing, Crimson Rain has clearly never heard of romance in the first place. Snarling, Mu Qing shifts and swings his right leg up hard toward Hua Cheng’s ribs. Hua Cheng slips out of reach fast enough to avoid getting hit but not fast enough to avoid Mu Qing grabbing his ankle and dragging him down to the ground. Mu Qing rolls on top of him, catching his wrists and slamming them down on the wooden floor.

send a wip title, get a wippet (wip snippet)

THE ARO JAMIE FIC THE ARO JAMIE FIC!!!!!

Hello Gav! I fun fact about this aro jamie fic is that it was directly inspired by your own queerplatonic two aces fic so you've got yourself to thank for it's existence! and since I have yelled at you quite a bit about this fic already, instead I shall grant you a snippet.

Sam had thought it was strange at the time of course, Jamie wasn’t exactly a shy person, he wasn’t a particularly conservative one either, and he couldn’t see why Jamie would turn down someone he clearly enjoyed the company of. But Jamie did that all the time. He never went home with anyone, never went on dates, despite having been in all the bantr campaigns just like the rest of the team he was the only one who didn’t even have it on his phone for appearances sake. Sam never voiced his concerns before, he’d never seen a reason too. Jamie seemed happy enough even without any of that, but Isaac had an odd look on his face, and a worried furrow in his brow. “Not particularly.” Jan Maas says “Jamie has never been interested in dating.” “Sure he is, Jamie’s a proper slag.” Daniels says.

RIP Daniels, the second teamer I made up for the purpose of being a dick to and about Jamie a lot during this fic. I'd say sorry, but you serve your purpose well.

7. or 9.? <- guy who's totally not obsessed with fwhip

I don’t believe you /lh

7. was an idea to have Jimmy have amnesia for some reason and Fwhip is forced to take care of him- and then they eventually fall in love. Forced proximity situation! I couldn’t get it to work in my head properly in a short term fic so I abandoned it…. Oh god maybe I could do an arranged marriage AU with them! That would be interesting- so many ways to set that up… mmmm we’ll see

9. was something I wrote the first and only time I’ve ever used the sprint bot in discord. People wanted me to try it out and I said no because it sounded like anxiety in a discord bot and it was- never again. The plot was just be trying to blurt out something to get a word count- I see how people would be motivated by it, but it made me mentally exhausted and stressed. Basically Fwhip is a vampire and was going to somehow run into Scott because Rivendell is nearby. I kept changing where I was going with it- honestly forgot about it until now.

You might’ve told me about it but I can’t remember right now. Millie and CJ? 👀

(So good to see Sperm donor there, though 🥰)

I might have? I dunno.

This was partially brought about by my watching "Ellie" and going "what i need more of in life is CJ interacting with Millie, obviously" (because Mary Kay Place is a TREASURE!!!) but anyway this is probably an offshoot of the secret dating au from s6, and probably happens on the China trip, where Millie happens to check in on CJ and interrupts her in the middle of something...

That something is taking a pregnancy test.

"I didn't know you still made house calls," CJ says, stepping back in resignation to let Millie into her room, hoping she won't get a sudden urge to use the bathroom any time soon. "Please. I was bored out of my mind, sitting there in my hotel room with nothing to do." CJ can understand the feeling, the restlessness, the need to be useful to *somebody*. "So... what can I do for you, Millie?" "I wanted to see how you were doing." "I'm... I'm fine, thank you." "You sure?" "Why, don't I look fine?" "You look great," Millie says, laughing a little. "Well, now you do. You looked a little queasy on the ride in." "If I looked queasy, it was only because I was anticipating the press corps' reaction to what was going on. Which, believe me, would turn anyone’s stomach."

ALSO bonus baby Mary Kay Place in MASH under the cut.

Thank you Elena 💜💜

wip title ask game

Tagged by beloved @serenpedac and @sealriously-sealrious ! :) Thank you!!!

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

I'm really NOT that organized with my wips (although now most of them have official documents rather than being written in Tumblr drafts [that's-growth.gif]) so I'll probably forget some, but here's what I've been working on lately.

TWC

A mermaid au, kind of - Nate x Avery (and Farah x Jenny), an AU in which Avery is a mermaid.

bitten/disease [part 2] - Ava x Rider zombie apocalypse AU, originally made for Wayhaven Frights last October. (My masterlist is such a mess/out of date, but Part 1 exists here.)

hunger and thirst [part 3] - Nate x Avery, post book 3. I hate most of my ideas for ending it. (Parts 1 and 2 exist here. Minors dni!)

Pre-TWC AU - Bobby x Avery, I guess? A story from Avery's college days that sort of explores her relationship with Bobby and Rebecca.

Original

Senior Week - On and off working on chapter 1 of @mamma-mia-if. I think my goal is to be able to post a demo (prologue + chapter 1) before the end of the academic year.

Werewolf - Well. There is indeed a document (several actually) for this IF, but all of it is plans, none of it is writing.

~~~

a no pressure tag for @grapecaseschoices @griffin-wood @amlovelies @nathanielhsewell @her-devils-advocate @roxaro

WIP Title Ask Meme

Prompt: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

the lovely @oliviassunrise tagged me!

i recently reworked how my wip folder is set up because i'm anal as fuck, but it's also...a fucking mess right now. so enjoy!

a piece in the games [folder for the tessjoel thg au]

aos fic [folder for agents of shield fic]

AUpril fics to write [folder for the remaining au prompts from last year i never finished]

discontinued wips [folder for my wip graveyard that i've slowly been resurrecting over time, continues multiple fandoms]

future fics [folder for ideas i want to write some day and get random brainworms for so i'll write snippets, but i'm not emotionally available to invest myself in yet]

i press you to the pages of my heart (i just wanna get a little bit closer) [folder for my elena/elijah tvd au]

one-shot fics to finish [folder for one-shots i start, then abandon, and mean to return to]

san andreas fic [folder for emma/ray fic]

stranger things fics [folder for stranger things/jopper related fic]

tell me we'll never get used to this [folder for the at the pleasure 'verse]

thg fics [folder for hunger games/hayffie fic]

twd fics [folder for the walking dead fic]

twilight fics [folder for twilight/carlislesme fic]

we paint the town blue [folder for the tessjoel cop au]

circle the drain [tessjoel wip]

hold onto this lullaby [tessjoel wip]

i spend every day in a haunted house [tessjoel wip]

staring at the ceiling with you [tessjoel wip]

tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us [tessjoel wip]

the world turned upside down (who am i to complain) [tessjoel wip]

to the ends of the earth [tessjoel wip]

tagging 21 people simply because i'm an insane person is not happening but i'll tag @sassymajesty, @electricbluebutterflies and @becomethesun since all my other writer friends seemed to have been tagged already :)

I WANT LIGHTHOUSES SNIPPETS I AM FERAL FOR LIGHTHOUSES SNIPPETS JFC xo @hardly-an-escape

Then it is feralness you shall receive!! And I notice you said SNIPPETS plural so have a small bouquet of feral moments in this fic, in increasing length and feralness: Hob needing to borrow Dream's shower, accidentally cumming to the thought of your friend's smile, and wanting so bad it hurts your chest

(some NSFW under the cut)

Hob comes out of the shower shirtless with a towel around his neck. His hair is curling wet around his face. He did a poor job of drying himself. There’s beads of water caught like dew in his chest hair. A stray rivulet of water is running lower, down his furred belly. He’s dripping a puddle on the hardwood floor, and still glowing a little with exercise. Dream is certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey, thanks, man. I’ll get outta your hair now,” he says, unaware of the fact Dream is vividly imagining kneeling before him and following that rivulet of water with his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak.

“Naw,” says Matthew, as if Hob had been talking to him. “Stay for dinner and beer.”

Hob looks at Dream. He swallows heavily. “Yes,” he croaks. “Stay.”

Hob lights up. “Well, alright.”

“Right on,” says Matthew.

---

After kicking Hob out, he jacks off with an arm thrown over his face, because he doesn’t want to see anything else. Doesn’t want to be in this room or this life, a coward’s life, a greedy life, hungering after his friend.

If Hob ever saw it, he’d run.

Dream tries to exorcise the buzzing lust, curled sideways on his bed like a parenthesis and fucking into his fist, not taking his time with it like he normally does. He doesn’t want to take himself apart. He wants to tear himself apart. Wants this monstrous black hunger climbing up the inside of his ribs to be satisfied as quick as possible, so he can look Hob in the eye and talk to him without biting his tongue.

He thinks of good fucks he’s had, moments and pieces from them, stitched all together. It does nothing. It’s like purgatory. Limbo. Even as he twists his hand around his prick, crooks a leg and presses up on his hole with fingers, he’s blind with need and he still can’t fucking cum. He groans in frustration and squeezes his eyes shut, thinks of guys fucking him rough, hands ‘round his hips leaving bruises, pretty twinks with big eyes kneeling for him, the bar smell of leather and poppers and piss, hot tongue and spit on his hole, the warmth of another body, of bodies, of beckoning glances and smiles, of one smile, Hob’s smile, his easy grin, clear as day, the heat of him, the brush of his skin, his hands, restless and warm and big, with hair dusting the knuckles, fidgeting with a pencil, stroking the neck of a bottle, holding a cigarette—him him him—smiling and saying us poor fuckers.

And he comes back to himself a moment later, panting. He rolls away from the mess he made across his sheets to stare at the ceiling, limbs loose and soul damned.

He shouldn’t have waited. Should’ve climbed into Hob’s fucking lap instead of the chair next to him that first day, should’ve made a scene, should’ve known. Hob deserves someone who would see him straightaway for the marvel he is, and he didn’t. Didn’t see him until Hob had already seen someone else here.

He wouldn’t regret it with Hob.

---

He’s drank too much. He’s drank too much and this was stupid idea, actually, to bring Dream here. To sit next to him and hear fierce poetry about gay love, and desire, and touch. They’re across from each other now, and still it feels too close. Feels dangerous. He hasn’t been this sort of drunk since leaving home. The kind where he wants so badly it physically hurts. Like kneeling on broken concrete. Like a pulse. His hands itch. He needs a fuck, a fight, anything at all. Anything to stop him from quoting Shakespeare and staring too long at Dream’s lips and thinking of all the lines he heard tonight, coiled around his heart and throat, mocking him.

“I’ll wait,” he says, standing so hard on the knife edge of truth and discretion he thinks he won’t be able to walk away from this, or walk ever again after it. “I’d wait a hundred years for, for him. However long it takes.”

“You’re too loyal, Hob.” Dream looks disappointed with him. He wonders if it’s obvious, how fucked he is right now. He wonders if his want is rolling off of him, like fog, if Dream sees it. Or feels it, clinging to his skin, damp. If he’s repulsed. He doesn’t want to be pitied. Not by Dream. Not for this. There’s nothing wrong, being loyal. Nothing wrong waiting.

“Maybe. Maybe I am.” Hob’s eyes feel wet. He thinks about being a little kid and picking sea glass from the beaches of Sausalito, before they moved to Fort Wayne. He thinks about how the colours got dull by the time he was home, and how he’d put the soft-edged pebble of glass in his mouth, suck the salt off it, just to see it shining and transluscent again. Green, and clear, and amber, and sometimes, rarely, blue.

His head is swimming. Not swimming, no. Drowning. He’s a bad friend. He doesn’t want to be rescued. He wants to pull Dream down with him. Dream’s own lines rise up in his mouth like bile. He leans forward, defiant.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll, maybe I’ll save every breath in my lungs for him.”

“Don’t,” says Dream, jaw tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t take that from me.”

Hob hears the warning in his voice and wants to dash himself on it, wants to crash up on the rocks of the awful island Dream has made of himself if it means he’ll finally look at Hob with that white-hot attention he reserves for his secret love. “Why not,” he hears himself flatly say.

“I mean it, Hob.” Oh, he’s angry, now. Anger is a kind of heat. Maybe it’s the best he’ll get.

“Why not?” he repeats. He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag and laughs, and raises his chin. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream, unblinking, sets his glass down on the table with a sharp thunk. A stupid little thrill races through Hob.

Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thinks. Dream drops the cigarette in the ashtray between them and leans forward too. His voice is rough. “Like that?”

Hob is dizzy. His chest feels like it’s on fire. Like he’s been running miles too long, too hard. His lips are stuck parted. Soft. Fucked with wanting as the rest of him. He’d buried too much, and it filled him up, it’s all of him now, singing through every fibre of his body. “No,” he says, quiet. “More.” Dream shouldn’t be able to hear it in the noise of the bar. Hob can hardly hear himself over his pulse pounding in his ears, and maybe Dream doesn’t hear him at all, maybe he’s staring so hard at Hob’s mouth that he can just see the shape of the words. His lungs are going to burst.

Dream’s eyes flick back up to look at him. Not sea glass, no, the sea itself, all sunlit bright and unsecretly hungry. Looking at him, really looking at him.

“Who are you waiting for, Hob?” he asks.

Hob exhales.

tell me more about 'phrasing' for the wip ask game if you please? i love all the ones you've answered so far!!!

thank you friend!! <3

most of the other wips on the list are pretty angst-heavy, plot-heavy, emotionally complex projects. this one is about the mighty nein arguing over what essek would call his dick.

i posted a tiny bit of the beginning for six sentence sunday last year, so here's a little bit of context for the same snip

-

"You think Essek knows what a cock is?"

It’s going to be that sort of afternoon. Caleb peers up at Beau over the back of his book. She’s perched atop one of the chairs at the dining room table, fingers steepled in front of her mouth.

"I would assume that he has one of his own, ja."

"Assume, huh?"

Jester waggles her eyebrows. Caleb dutifully ignores her. Today is not the day he will be goaded into sharing his wealth of evidence.

"That's not what I meant, though." He’s seen this look on Beau before, though not usually outside of the library. "Like, this guy grew up with fifteen silver spoons shoved up his ass. Do you think he's ever heard the word 'cock' before?"

Caleb gives her a look, gesturing pointedly to Jester bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“She says ‘dick,’ though.” Beau purses her lips, balancing her pencil on top. “You think he says dick? I can’t picture him saying dick.”

“He probably has a word in his own language that he uses,” Veth points out.

“Right, obviously.” Beau removes the pencil, bracing both hands on the table. “But what does he call it in Common? Like—” and here she puts on a terrible imitation of Essek’s lilt— “Caleb, suck my… what? How does that finish?”

“Gross,” Veth says at the same time Jester says, “In his mouth, probably.”

Can you tell us anything about "that thing from that ask"? The vagueness has intrigued me

(From the wip title ask game)

It’s from this ask from the lovely @hy-5ive. And more specifically, this bit of my ramblings:

But how does that ripple fix Jason’s death, exactly? After Under the Hood, does Jay wake up buried in the rubble sometime later? Or has Jason’s initial resurrection become fixed in time—a nexus point, if you will, that keeps pulling Jay back in. Now that’s fun to daydream about.

The premise is that Jason wakes up post death by Batarang at the end of Under the Hood back in his coffin, 4 years in the past. He digs his way out, and because he’s not post death by crowbar there’s no head trauma, plus he’s faster this time around (practice makes perfect), so no anoxic brain injury. Which, together, means no catatonia. He is lowkey dying of hypovolemic shock tho, so he still ends up in a hospital. Enter Bruce. Angst and drama ensue. In a perfect world, I’d write this and post it for April 27 this year, but I’d probably get fired from my job for lack of productivity if I made that happen.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

Other answered wip title asks: Baby Bluejay, Adventures in co-parenting, Incident review #1, Incident review #2, TCItS part 2

Ooh #2 catches my eye!

2. Five Times Dream Ate What Hob Made For Him And One Time He Couldn’t

This one has zero words in the file, partly because I have been playing a lot of Stardew Valley in the last two days since coming up with that title and saving a file with it so I would remember to work on it.

I've been struggling for weeks now to find something to do with the idea of Hob knitting something for Dream, and Dream loving the thing Hob made for him so much that he eats it. I think I've got it this time. Probably. We'll see what happens when I actually try to write it!

Ooh, Hualian makeup? :o

this is so old asdklfg

It feels different, anyway, to have Hua Cheng do this: he lit up so brightly when Xie Lian mentioned it and has held such sincere focus throughout that it feels like a kind of worship. Pausing, Xie Lian corrects himself. It surely is a form of worship. His cheeks heat up at the thought, even as a heady smugness swells in his chest. It’s one thing to be worshipped by faceless masses or attended by servants with no other choice; it is something else entirely to have his cheek tilted so delicately by the one he loves with all the force of the sun, the one who knows him and wants him and believes in him. Even if Hua Cheng were not so powerful in his own right, Xie Lian thinks he would always be able to taste the difference in his worship above all others. “I used to steal it,” Hua Cheng says lightly, drawing back and setting the brush on the table next to them. His lips, blood red, quirk up in wry amusement. “When I was a kid, I thought that I could use it to hide all my ugliness so that I would be allowed home.” Xie Lian stills. Hua Cheng rarely talks about his childhood or what little of his life extended beyond that meager time. He seems to brush aside all thought of those brief years in favor of the great expanse of his afterlife.

send a wip title, get a wippet (wip snippet)

PLS I MUST KNOW MORE ABOUT THE HAIRWASHING FIC

I am so glad because it is curated specifically for you, Gav and I's enjoyment!

it actually started as another roy and jamie fic as is my brand at this point, but it just wasn't working for me to try and write it like that. I feel like I've boxed myself in with my roy and jamie fics, so I wanted to branch out a bit with this idea so I've decided to get a little experimental with it and it's now a Dani and Jamie fic!

The gist is the platonic intimacy of getting your hair washed when you're too fucking tired to do it yourself, and then my wanting to experiment with writing Dani's character has collided with that idea like ping pong balls and it has since spiraled into a bit of a Dani character study, because his vibes have bewitched me body and soul.

Millie & CJ? 👀👀

I touch on it here, but another snippet:

"Mind if I freshen up?" "I'd really rather you didn't." "Why, did you shove the boyfriend in there when I walked in?" "We can't all keep our dirty little secrets in the back of the closet with the Allman Brothers." Millie laughs. "CJ, what's going on?"