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@madebylong
first of all, hello
I'm Long, and I write. I've been writing for a long time, but this is the first time I've sharing my work. I keep this blog to share my stories, memes, and thoughts.
you can find me at AO3
someday I will create a list of fandoms that I write about, but I don't have one yet, so please know that my tastes may be specific.
make yourself at home. I hope you like my texts.
tegs to follow: #made by long
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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His clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin — and it turned out to be utterly unimportant. He craved being in those arms far more than he craved staying dry. He settled his chin on Rengoku's shoulder and found within himself an unthinkable feeling — the feeling of coming home.
— A Heart Worn on the Sleeve
Sharing a snippet from the concluding chapter of this little story.
….yeah, it's been a while since I've been here....
I've been in deep shit about my life, but hey, I'm writing again
«In the whole world, you can't find a person as unlucky as Kennedy. No matter where he goes, the apocalypse favors him. That's what makes him so valuable»
— (???)
…okay, I might be writing something about resident evil. it seems like a completely crazy thing to me, with selective canon adherence, but I'm having so much fun
"My friend, words cannot express how I... I..." Gale's shoulders sagged. "Thank you, Astarion. You're the first living person I've told about this."
"Spare me the melodrama, would you? I'm not particularly living." The reproach in Astarion's tone was too theatrical to be genuine. He made a casual gesture, waving off the thanks. "Yes, I'd rather have kept such a trinket for myself, but I'm not at risk of exploding if I go without it”
— Thirty-Three Misfortunes
(you can read it here)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The first of the thirteen chapters is available for reading. The text was written with exceptional love for the characters and their world.
I’m hope you like it.
Thirty-three misfortunes
Astarion wasn't entirely sure at which precise moment he had firmly decided to quietly, and without a scene, part ways with this motley crew of fellow sufferers. Their brave leader's worldview turned out to be a bit too righteous, and a poor vampire spawn simply didn't fit into it. Fortunately, solitude wasn't in the cards for Astarion—the only question left was just how much better traveling in the company of Gale of Waterdeep would prove to be.
A short story about how Astarion and Gale went their own way, despite all the misfortunes that fell upon them.
You can read this story here.
Half an hour later, Astarion's three-minute patience ran out. He materialized at the entrance of Gale's tent like an unforgiving reminder of death—like a ghost, like a nightmare, like inevitability itself. The hair on the back of Gale's neck stood on end, and he nearly dropped everything in his hands, cursing under his breath as Astarion crawled into his tent.
"Hell's sulfur!" Astarion hissed, snatching from Gale's hands a book with an old, worn-out binding that the wizard had been clumsily trying to shove into his pack. "A Practical Guide to Eel Farming?"
Astarion raised his eyes to Gale, unsure whether to smack him with the guide or demand an explanation as to why in the nine hells he needed eels. Gale was already stuffing another book inside, suffering not the slightest pang of conscience for so shamelessly taking his time packing. He knew, he sensed, he believed that each of these priceless folios would prove its worth—and then Astarion would have no choice but to thank Gale for his stubbornness.
"Never know what might come in handy," Gale mumbled in his own defense. "Especially for us"
— Thirty-three misfortunes
(soon on ao3)
art by @anastoza
"You'll go back now, decide I was a figment of your imagination, and we'll part as friends," — the corners of Astarion's mouth drooped, forming a tense line. The fog of dullness lifted like mist over a campfire, and his voice adopted an equally charming bluntness. "Don't put me in a position where I have to choose, Gale."
"You're a vampire," Gale blurted out, as if bursting with the joy of discovery. "Incredible! How did you…"
Astarion lunged forward and clamped his hand over Gale's mouth — Gale flinched, threw his hands up, and froze. His bag fell, hit the dry forest floor, and clanked loudly. Astarion's pointed ears flattened, his red eyes flashing with lethal danger just inches from Gale's wide brown ones.
"You always have to make things so complicated, don't you, Gale?" Astarion hissed through clenched teeth. "I gave you a chance!"
— Thirty-three misfortunes
(soon on ao3)
I don't want to work, I want to write omegovers in the surroundings of ancient Egypt
Shadowheart spoke in overly dramatic riddles, constantly evaded questions, and eavesdropped on everyone without exception. Her caustic manner of noting details and asking uncomfortable questions made Astarion think twice before opening his mouth in her presence. She kept on her person a prism about which she knew absolutely nothing, and harbored a fierce aversion to Selûne. Astarion cared nothing for gods, their followers, or the endless squabbles between them, but even he suspected that at the core of Shadowheart's personality lay a blind devotion to some loathsome little deity. In every respect, she seemed a bitch — befriending her would have been a pleasure, but she was hardly the type to defend a miserable vampire spawn on the third day of their acquaintance.
— Thirty-three misfortunes
(soon on ao3)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i have an itchy urge to stuff Rengoku and Tomioka into the Game of Thrones au. the more I think about how they interact in a jousting tournament, the more I want to, although—huh—it sounds a little crazy.
but when has it ever stopped me?
"Giyu," Rengoku swayed toward him, grabbed his shoulder, and they ended up so close their foreheads almost touched, "I never told you the most important thing. Forgive me."
Giyu found himself utterly helpless before this proximity and the way another's breath suddenly warmed his cheek.
"As long as a flame burns in my heart, I want to move forward." Kyojuro smiled gratefully. "And I'm so glad you're walking with me. Thank you, Giyu."
— A Heart Worn on the Sleeve
(you can read this there)
"I'm trying to talk to you, Kyojuro," Giyuu wasn't making excuses, but he had a point to make. "I do care."
"As do I, Giyuu."
Rice paddies spread out on either side of the path, the high spring sky reflected in the flooded plots. But the tranquility of the landscape offered no help—there was no ease in this openness, and the words, seemingly so simple, came with effort. Tomioka stopped; Kyojuro stopped too. For one brief moment, they looked at each other, saying nothing, but mutually waiting. Giyuu frowned again, not fully understanding what exactly he was angry at: the conversation itself, his own inability to find the right words, or Kyojuro, whose striking silhouette looked unfairly poetic against all this serenity. Perhaps at everything all at once.
— A Heart Worn on the Sleeve
(you can read this there)
Kyojuro was a miracle in himself — to call his survival anything less would be false. To demand another miracle from him would be the height of selfishness. Yet, seven months had bled into one another since he succumbed to unbroken slumber, and the longing for a miracle arose unbidden, for no other future seemed possible. The sun cannot help but rise at dawn and climb to its zenith by noon; a spark cannot help but catch in dry tinder — that was what they all awaited. The inevitable, for it could not be otherwise.
— A Heart Worn on the Sleeve.
(you can read the story here)
bloodweave goes so crazy because they're both like. what if I spent my whole life in devoted service to a being with the power to unmake me on a whim and was punished horribly for deigning to make a mortal mistake. and what if for the first time in lifetimes I'm finally working out what kind of person I am without their influence and it's scaring me shitless and I have a hunger that aches and aches and aches and reminds me of them every waking moment but at least I have the freedom to decide for myself what I want and what I deserve. and what if that's you.
hell yes
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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