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ships-to-sail · 18 hours
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I dont think anyone subscribes to you for t rated 5 +1s in your own au lol. Chop chop with those wip’s porn girl!
Well. Quite a bit to unpack here on an otherwise unassuming Friday!
#1:
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#2: I actually track this stuff. Admittedly the E-rated percentage is a bit higher if you look at RWRB only, but overall...
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#3: I think anyone who subscribes to me on AO3, or indeed anyone who follows the kiwiana-writes tag here on tumblr and sees all those fucking WIPs, knows that I like to write a bit of variety. That's not to say there aren't definite underpinnings of, like, themes and vibes that I return to over and over (which I can only assume are why people subscribe to me), but if someone only likes my college AUs, or only likes my post-canon stuff, or only likes my E-rated stuff, or only wants to listen to my podfics, they're probably going to have a much more successful time saving the tag search than subscribing to me at the author level. Or they've mastered the art of archiving and moving on without complaining about it, like I do when the authors I'm subscribed to write something that doesn't interest me. It's a useful skill! I highly recommend cultivating it.
#4: AO3 not giving series stats is and continues to be the bane of my life, but based on the number of people who subscribed to the OG actor AU, there's probably a significant chunk of people who aren't subscribed to me as an author and only want the actor AU verse stuff. And good for them! I LOVE that AO3 offers multiple ways to subscribe so you can get notified for the stuff you want (my kingdom for the ability to subscribe to individual pseuds, though.)
#5: This fandom is OVERFLOWING right now. Like, I can't keep up. You only want to read E-rated stuff? Awesome! Well over 100 E-rated fics have been posted in the RWRB bookverse tag just this week (it looks like most of the movieverse smut has also been tagged bookverse, but either way it's also very easy to find). Or go back to older fics and find some hidden gems—there's nothing an author loves more than for someone to come in and gush about a fic they wrote a year or two ago.
#6: You don't pay me, and I'm not subject to annual review. One of my favourite authors was talking this morning about how sometimes she thinks about taking a break from writing for RWRB because it's starting to feel a little rat racey, and that would suck for me personally because I love her stuff but god knows I couldn't blame her, because the (extreme minority but still exhausting) entitled comments and rudeness really do not help. Stop treating your favourite authors like content creators who owe you something new on a regular schedule, because that's a damn good way to ensure they don't want to create anything new ever again. Like... anon, you haven't even bothered to couch this in a compliment. The bar is ten feet underground and somehow you still managed to trip over it.
#7: Not to be all 'back in my day' but... well, back in my day, snippets and peeks into the universe of a remotely popular longfic were pretty much the standard lol. Nobody is forcing you to read them, I promise.
#8: I've posted two E-rated fics in the last two weeks.
#9: Honestly I just really want to reiterate #1 because what the hell lol. While pronouns don't equal gender, it's pretty reasonable to extrapolate from pronouns if you don't have any other info to go on—and of the three "main/standard" pronouns, the one most closely associated with 'girl' is the only one that ISN'T in my bio 🤦
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ships-to-sail · 16 days
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WIP Wednesday 4.3.24
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Well, y'all, blink and it's been a week! Seven whole days later and I here I am again with more @firenati0n prompted shenanigans. The rival bakers stay rivaling, but there may or may not be (but most definitely is) sexy dough kneading this round, so. thanks be to the universe for that!
He motions across the street with a wild gesture. “There’s a new bakery?!” “Apparently,” Ellen says, her voice calm even as her brows pinch together by another fraction of an inch.  “Since when?!” “Since about two weeks ago, mijo, if you’d actually read any of the signs across the street,” his dad says as he comes out from the small kitchen in the back, wiping the flour on his hands onto the hand towel sitting on his shoulder. A wave of sugar-and-cinnamon smell smacks Alex in the face, and he knows the first pans of conchas are sitting on the racks in the back, waiting for them to flip the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN. “Patissier du Renard,” the traces of his father’s Mexican accent turning the French syllables into a different kind of dance. “Who the fuck is Renard?” “It’s French for —”  “Language, Alex,” his mother barks at him again, spinning on her heel, the corners of her mouth tucked down. The set of her jaw makes it abundantly clear that it’s not actually his choice of four-letter words that’s bothering her. But Alex, while not always the smartest guy, is also not an idiot, and so decides that this is not the moment he wants to push her on the issue.  Holding up two hands, he gives her a sincere, “Sorry, ma,” has he slips behind her, stopping to press a kiss to her cheek before he pushes open the swinging door to the kitchen and grabs his favorite bright yellow apron off the back of the door and flipping the neck band over his head.  He ties the strap behind his waist absentmindedly, making his way to the far fridge and grabbing out a 10-gallon tupperware of concha dough, tossing it onto the workstation behind him with a loud bang.  His thoughts stay on the new bakery across the street, the crowd of people he couldn’t see through overlaid with the columns and columns of numbers growing increasingly larger, but in vivid, blood-red font. He can’t see past it as he crosses to a different set of fridges, pulling down jars of fillings and jams — mango and strawberry, passionfruit and limón, whatever his hands can reach until his arms are full.  He drops them next to the dough with a clatter, and lets his hands work on autopilot as the gears in his brain spin at warpspeed, trying to process through this new piece of information.  He uses a pastry cutter to slice off a chunk of the dough, tossing it onto the waiting scale, before adding a smaller piece and then sliding the whole pile off the metal plate and onto the cool metal of the work bench. Reaching beneath him, he grabs a small container of flour and flicks it open, sprinkling some over both his hands and the table. His heels dig into the cold, partially sticky dough as he begins to pull at the edges of the pile, his fingers pushing and his palms pressing, his hands working occasionally together but even more frequently at odds, as he begins to work his family’s award winning concha dough into a batch of slightly-less-popular (but in Alex’s opinion superior) chamucos. 
a giant thank you to @suseagull04, @cha-melodius, @wordsofhoneydew and @hgejfmw-hgejhsf for the tags -- I'll leave my tags below the cut, and consider this your hearty invitation to take the open tag, especially if you never have before!
@affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy-afterdark @myheartalivewrites @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes
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ships-to-sail · 17 days
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ships-to-sail · 18 days
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he's trying very hard. but once a bitch, always a bitch
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ships-to-sail · 19 days
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nick and charlie ft. no personal space
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ships-to-sail · 20 days
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guy who is definitely not about to fall into a surprise midday nap with an aftermath worse than a hangover: it seems like a really good idea to lay in bed and get cozy under the blanket as part of my plan not to fall asleep. I do not know why.
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ships-to-sail · 20 days
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This is the coolest fucking thing.
I am in truly honored awe 💜
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ships-to-sail · 21 days
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should be able to leave kudos on scientific studies. i liked your paper dude keep at it
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ships-to-sail · 22 days
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it’s so weird to me how there’s cliques and hierarchies within fandom spaces these days like. we’re all just fucking nerds. how are you gonna try to be popular amongst the nerds. how are you going to feel superior over your fellow nerds. at the end of the day you’re still a fucking nerd bestie
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ships-to-sail · 23 days
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It's dishonest work and it's a lot. And nobody needs to do it
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ships-to-sail · 23 days
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Howdy, fam! Long no talk! It's been a wicked-hectic March (thanks, Spring Break) and between that and the number of Super Secret Things I'm currently working on, there's been a little bit of a lack of WIP words I'm actually able to share!
Luckly, it's @firenati0n to the rescue with a truly unhinged prompt/prompt style that is turning out to be such an addictively fun thing to work on, no one tell Roop but I'm probably gonna make them do it again when this one is done!
Anyway, without further ado and with no additional context provided, please enjoy this week's WIP Wednesday (tags after the cut, as always my doves!)
When his alarm goes off the next morning, though, he throws an arm to punch his phone off the end table, and then lets his fall behind him, expecting to find the soft give of sleeping flesh and finding only the cold flatness of sheets that had long lost any body heat they once contained.  It’s six in the morning, and Alex groans as his phone continues to yell at him from the floor. He sits up with a groan and drags his hands over his eyes, squeezing them shut and scraping dully at the sleep still gathered in the corners of his eyes.  He remembers…baguettes. And the blond guy, a story about…a stove? Or, no. A refrigerator? A power outage in his new apartment and he was supposed to meet a friend…Tootsie? Reeses? Pez. That was the one.  Alex leaned over and grabbed his phone, finally pressing the stop button for his alarm, and clocking the seven mixed group message texts he’s missed since he checked in last night — before going to the club. He’d been spinning out about Liam, again, and both Nora AND June had insisted that going out would be far better than just sitting in his apartment, in a funk. (He considered it the height of maturity that he only mentioned twice that he wouldn’t have to be all alone in a funk if they hadn’t moved out of the city and left him alone to fend for himself like some kind of adult at 28).  He would die before he’d ever tell them that they’d been right.  That the buzzing of the bass in his sternum and warm press of bodies did more to calm him than any of the stupid fucking ‘box breathing’ his therapist kept pushing at him — and then he’d met…Hayes? Harry? The blond, with the stunning blue eyes and the accent that made Alex go all melty at his joints.  The one who’d ridden Alex’s thigh the entire cab ride back to Alex’s apartment, who’d pressed his back to the closed door as soon as Alex had swung it shut behind them both, his mouth eager and his noises filthy as he swallowed Alex right there in his living room, jeans barely down far enough for him to get his dick out.  The one who’d let Alex spread him open and stroke his prostate like a sleepy kitty while his hand worked his cock, firm and slow and wetter with every pass of Alex’s thumb over the head of Harper’s dick.  The one who’d let Alex be the big spoon, wrapping his legs over the swell of pale hips, his arms around Hugo’s chest, head on his shoulder like a little a curly-headed backpack.  The one who’d managed to slip out before dawn, taking his name and his phone number with him. 
@affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy-afterdark @myheartalivewrites @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf
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ships-to-sail · 24 days
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season 3 of the 🍂🍂🍂 show coming oct. 2024
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ships-to-sail · 25 days
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ships-to-sail · 28 days
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For @kiwiana-writes, in celebration of his birthday and in honor of fashion sluts everywhere
Henry makes a choked sound, the seeds of a manic laugh that he can feel ticking the back of his brain. This Alex was going to come into his salon — the salon he’d been here to help literally build with his two fucking hands — and tell him his station wasn’t his?! And he was going to do it while letting the sharp line of his jaw and the allure of a single curl escaping the hold of styling gel to lie loosely across his forehead taunt Henry?!
Absolutely the fuck not.
Or, Henry is a colorist, Alex a hairstylist, and a series of fortunate events leads to a fashion slut-off at work
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ships-to-sail · 1 month
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hannibal season 2 summary
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ships-to-sail · 1 month
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there has never been and will never be a more devastating image than will resting his head on hannibal's chest, listening to his heart beat as he finally feels at peace
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ships-to-sail · 1 month
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hannibal is so cringefail because how do you successfully get away with literal murder and cannibalism for years all while being a well respected sophisticate and food connoisseur and then risk it all for a guy covered in dog hair who is also an asshole and also wants to kill you real bad
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