the-pontiac-bandit

[the-pontiac-bandit]

ok newest insanely specific fic rec request

hi in my continued hunger games renaissance i am looking for a fic about katniss finally deciding she wants children and having children with peeta, angsty and well-written and mostly canon-compliant

yes, i’m aware that one solution to this is ~just write it~ however i simply have not hit that point of desperation yet, so if any of you have a rec in this category, please share haha

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #fic recs #listen this is what my tumblr is for now #i have read many pages of ao3 and have not yet found the fic that will exactly scratch this itch #so i'm crowdsourcing

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hello, help, i got way too deep in the hunger games again bc why the fuck not. but am now in desperate search for finnick x annie fics, the angstier the better, especially surrounding her games/their getting together

PLEASE send your faves my way

#the hunger games #thg #annie cresta #finnick odair #odesta #fic recs #carrie talks

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#ok this is SO hard bc on the one hand #nawat is by far the best ROI #and damn so cute #but hear me out #achoo is simply so silly and i love her #tortall #tamora pierce

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april x andy, "slowly"

April watches, the hint of a smile ghosting over her face the only indication she's finding any enjoyment in their neighborhood park on the first sunny morning of a long-overdue spring.

"Babe, slowly!" she calls as she watches her husband spin their toddler on a playground merry-go-round far faster than can possibly be a good idea.

As is becoming a pattern in her life, though, Jack is fine, and she's handing over the baby wipes in her backpack to Andy five minutes later while he cleans up the aftermath of his own motion sickness.

#april x andy #parks and rec #april ludgate #andy dwyer #my writing #carrie answers #rlly jumping all over the map here #as one does

[the-pontiac-bandit]

Neal + waiting

Neal leans on his practice sword as he sulks in the practice yards at Pirate's Swoop, thinking of the myriad of other more enjoyable ways he could spend the third bell after lunch--really, even a ride on Peachblossom sounded more enjoyable than sparring with his new knight-mistress. A knight mistress who's late to her own practice session, he adds resentfully in his mind.

He's jerked out of his reverie by the whistle of a dagger flying mere inches from his ear, followed by a cackle from the wall above and a shout, "If you won't learn vigilance from me, Queenscove, I'm happy to let Aly teach it!"

#three sentence fics #carrie answers #my writing #tortall #tamora pierce #nealan of queenscove #alanna of pirates swoop and olau #alanna the lioness #here have another one #no vouching on quality here we're just gonna write why tf not

[the-pontiac-bandit]

could you do ron and hermione and the word bruises? thank you!!

In the dappled early-morning light spilling through Shell Cottage's kitchen window, Ron first notices the brilliant blues and purples blooming like violets beneath her wrists. She's cooking, scrambling eggs by hand, reverting back to muggle comfort even after all these years in the magical world. Her hands shake as she begins to scoop food onto plates, and just for a moment, his fingers ache to steady them, cover them, trace their bruises.

#three sentence fics #my writing #ron x hermione #romione #harry potter #hp #carrie answers #guess who's back back again #i got so bored i decided why not write some of these prompts that have been sitting in my inbox for years #hermione granger #ron weasley

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logging on to tumblr dot com like

#i mean

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Sounds like most Chihuahuas and I would bet a prior Chihuahua owner would take him.

#ok listen #i saw this this morning #and i have been thinking about prancer all goddamn day

[the-pontiac-bandit]

Fanfic Asks

1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

2. What’s next on your ‘to-read’ list? (Fan fiction or otherwise)

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs?

4. What fandom’s/ship’s fan fiction do you read the most?

5. What’s a crackship you love?

6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh?

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

8. Bed sharing or roommates AU?

9. Fake dating or arranged marriage?

10. Mutual pining or enemies to friends to lovers?

11. Kid fic or childhood friends?

12. Friends with benefits or secret dating?

13. Exes or established relationship?

14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

#ooh send some!!

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i’m sick of this guy (the pandemic) alexa play taylor swift’s entire discography

#WOW IM DYING #DEAD #HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS WAS UP #we love a good tswift mashup #and a talented friend #music

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Thayet: So you don’t think I can fight bandits because I’m a woman?

Jon: No, I don’t think you can fight bandits because right now you’re in a wedding dress. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Raoul could fight in that dress either.

Raoul: Maybe not, but I would make a radiant bride.

#tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #i am SCREAMING

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im gonna need people to stop treating journalists like they’re idiots lol. “i can’t believe we needed an article to tell us this” “lol did journalists just realize this or something??” yeah look what is obvious to you is not obvious to another individual on the other side of the state/country/contingent/world and your experiences are not universal. not everyone lives on tumblr dot com and talks to leftist twenty-somethings all day. a journalist publishing a headline that you already took for fact is not said journalist making a surprise discovery for the first time that you and your friends already knew about and publishing it like it’s news for them, it is the journalist making a realization that there is content out there not being addressed or talked about yet with the facts they have access to, and the article is them studying and gathering evidence and writing it out and presenting it in article form for people who DIDN’T know that, or who had believed otherwise. and now you have the luxury of linking to their proof in your online debates because they did that work, and doing the work right takes time, and it is not as fast as a netizen with a keyboard and an opinion.

there are older adults and professional adults and seasoned adults out there in the world who are your allies, who want the same things you want, and the people who do the work and gather the data and put in the hours and present it to the public to support facts that may be obvious to you are, in fact, helping the cause you think you are carrying by yourself, but your patronizing criticism of such experts who study and work their asses off to get where they are is doing the opposite. go figure

#really fucking important #bc i have seen a whole lot of stupid hot takes making the rounds about the article documenting the pandemic baby bust #of COURSE it makes logical sense #that is why someone did the damn research #but journalism isn't the same as a fucking tumblr post #and it is actually important that our thoughts and opinions are based in reality #journalists take the time to read the statistics and look at birth rates and hospital numbers so that we *know* it's true #anyway their work is important #and takes time #and doesn't always confirm what you think might be true #but sometimes verifies exactly what you think is true #and the verification does not make it stupid or late to the game

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#...me on day 3 of 5 12-hour days #god #thinking about the fact that i will still be TWENTY HOURS UNDER THE DUTY HOUR LIMIT #HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS #I WANT TO DIE #is this better or worse than the night shift truly who could say

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Percy, already exasperated, entering CHB in the beginning of summer: let me guess, I have to go on a long harrowing quest to save the world?

Chiron: yes child, it is your destin-

Percy:

#oh #my god #pjo #god i miss these books i should reread

[the-pontiac-bandit]

SCHITT’S CREEK (2015-2020)

#schitt's creek #simply the best

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If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.  

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

#carrie answers #my writing #anonymous #raoul of goldenlake and malorie's peak #raoul of goldenlake #buriram tourakom #tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #keladry of mindelan #okay we've got all the found family shit in here #the friends? check #the surrogate daughter? check #adoption? check #also who said a baby can't have three godsmothers definitely not buri and raoul #also on ao3

[the-pontiac-bandit]

#OH MY GOD #how have we never talked about this #b99