#300 word micro fic

[pagsys-writings]

20. Key

Kuramochi watches as Miyuki stares down at the key in his hand. The confusion on his face morphs from confusion to understanding to shock in rapid succession, but Kuramochi doesn’t like the mischievous look on Miyuki’s face when the shock finally begins to dissipate.

“Kuramochi,” Miyuki practically sings, “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Crossing his arms, Kuramochi narrows his eyes at his boyfriend of almost a year now. If he’s being honest with himself, this is well overdue, but this is also Miyuki — an absolute menace of a person despite how much Kuramochi likes him. “If you make me regret this,” he says slowly, “I’ll make sure you regret it, asshole.”

“I would never.” Miyuki places a hand over his heart, face morphing into a look of false hurt.

And, oh boy, Kuramochi can already tell this is a terrible mistake. He holds out his hand with his palm facing upward. His fingers curl in a grabbing motion. “Give it back.”

Miyuki’s hand closes around the key. “No way! You just gave it to me.” Kuramochi lunges for it, but Miyuki anticipates it and spins out of the way. He runs toward the door, yelling, “No takebacks! You’re stuck with me now!” Kuramochi rolls his eyes as Miyuki cackles, but he can’t keep the fond smile off his face even as he shakes his head in disbelief.

[chierafied]

Opening Lines Tag

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks so much for the tags to @annabtg, @mppmaraudergirl and @eastwindmlk!! Love you guys! 😘💕 I've done this same kind of tag a few times, a year or two ago, but if you're curious, the previous Opening lines memes are here and here! Also because my feed had been overtaken by jily microfics ever since the House Cup happened and because I feel very bad for my SessKag followers (sorry guys, they're giving me fake internet points for every micro I write and there's a competition to win), I'm going to post the opening lines of my 5 most recently posted jily fics AND 5 most recently posted SessKag fics. 😘💕

Jily

Predicament | G, 100 words

James Potter’s laughter rings in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Uneasy | G, 150 words

James walked back from the Hospital Wing, his steps soft, his shoulders stiff and his wand-arm at the ready.

Enraged | G, 130 words

James bit into his toast and absently picked up the Daily Prophet.

Zealous | G, 220 words

The zealous gleam in her eyes bides ill and Lily’s muscles tense in anticipation.

Ashes | T, 100 words

It only takes one split second for your life to shatter.  

SessKag

Heart and Home - Chapter 4 | T, 100 words

They had servants.

Honey, I'm Home | G, 750 words

The pair of elegant designer stiletto heels greeting Kagome at the entrance way of her house was the first clue that something was up.

Sweet Success | T, 300 words

Sesshoumaru leaned against a pillar on the engawa, holding a sake dish.

Time To Get Up | T, 700 words

Kagome lay on her futon.

Louder Than Words: Reprise - Chapter 2 | G, 915 words

Sesshoumaru had no trouble with machines.

Patterns:

I prefer shorter opening sentences to longer ones. I almost always start with the POV character, or then the character the POV character is observing.

I rarely seem to open with description of the setting. I guess, especially in fics this short, I prefer to get straight to the point.

*

Tagging @kaoruhana08, @jafndaegur, @stonecoldhedwig, @deadlyglacier, but no obligation whatsoever. 😘💕💖

[thatmexisaurusrex]

MICRO FIC CHALLENGE

I've seen some challenges around, and I thought I'd make a little one for the SamBucky people out there. Feel free to reblog if you want to do this little challenge too. Send me a prompt in my asks, I'll make a little micro fic (50-300 words) for SamBucky based on one of these prompts:

Birdwatching

A Couple of Guys

Accidental or Spur of the Moment First Kiss

"Oh, so it's clowns."

Hurt/Comfort

Cat Dads

Meet-Ugly

*Insert Favorite Old Timey Word*

"You're cute."

Avengers' Meeting

Sick Day

Dark Academia

Cuddling

"What else is there?"

Flight

Garden

Redwing

Costume

Beach

Exchanging Smiles

Clumsy

Ghost

"Well, that just happened."

Bad Flirting

Umbrella

[scriveyner]

short leash

"So, I was wondering," Atsushi said brightly, "why do you wear a collar, Chuuya-san?" Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, in no small part impressed by how bluntly the weretiger went straight in for the kill. Chuuya, for his part, spluttered for only about ten seconds before pointing to the very-obviously-a-collar and saying loudly, "this is NOT a collar! It's a CHOKER!" "No," Atsushi said, "I'm pretty sure it's a collar. It looks similar to the ones they used to make us wear at the orphanage." Hold up, what. Akutagawa looked over at Atsushi, brow furrowed, because, uh, what the FUCK, Atsushi, you can't just drop things like that on everyone with no warning. However, Chuuya brushed right past that loaded statement and straight into, "what the fuck, it's NOT a COLLAR!" Dazai, who had been suspiciously silent this entire exchange, shuffled around on his cushion. Akutagawa's attention moved from Chuuya, who was up on one knee and finger pointed at Atsushi, to Dazai, which was probably for the best because Dazai whipped out a dog leash and in a CLEARLY practiced move, snapped it onto the front of Chuuya's "choker". There was a moment of silence so heavy it nearly suffocated them all, before Chuuya's voice hit a note so high it almost broke. "DAZAI WHAT THE FU-" Well, that was their cue. Akutagawa rose smoothly to his feet and grabbed Atsushi by the back of his shirt, hauling him to his feet with practiced ease. "For someone who pretends to be so innocent you take great delight in stirring the shit," he said as he dragged Atsushi behind him out of the room. "But it IS a collar," Atsushi said, squirming free from Akutagawa's grip. "I don't see the point denying it. Dazai-san wanted us gone anyway."

[orange-peony]

Written for @drarrymicrofic with the prompt "skeletons".

"Where are you taking me?" Harry asks, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat accelerates every time Draco smiles at him or when their fingers touch.

It's just for show, he reminds himself. They're only pretending to be together.

"Surprise," Draco says, taking Harry's hand before he Side-Alongs them to a toilet cubicle.

"Er…" Harry mumbles. "I must say that's not what I expected."

"Put this blindfold on and trust me," Draco says with a mysterious smile. Harry complies and lets Draco take him out of the loo and into a loud echoey place that makes him wonder what on earth Draco has planned.

Their lunch at Harry's favourite Indian restaurant was simply perfect, and the walk in the park was ridiculously lovely. But Robards said they were supposed to be out together for a couple of hours, not for the whole day.

"You can take it off," Draco finally says, and Harry gasps when his eyes land on the huge skeleton of a dinosaur.

"Where…" he looks around and recognises the Natural History Museum immediately.

"You said you'd always wanted to come," Draco explains, their fingers still interlaced as he takes Harry around the museum. "You said that your horrible aunt refused to pay for your school trip when you were little, so you didn't get to see the dinosaurs."

"Draco…" Harry mumbles, speechless.

The Patronus reaches them when they're making their way out, still hand in hand.

"The suspect is in custody. Your mission is complete," Robards announces.

Harry's heart drops, but his hand is still safely secured against Draco's soft, warm palm.

He doesn't want to let go.

He wants to continue pretending.

"We could…" Draco starts.

"You could come to mine," Harry finally finds the courage to suggest. "For a real date."

Draco smiles.

"Sounds perfect."

[ashayatreldai]

His Face - Fic

Find this on AO3 or read it here.

Among Su She’s effects is found a bundle of sketches of Hanguang Jun, which inspires a lifetime of exchanges between Wei Wuxian and his husband.

***

Wei Wuxian yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t as though Lan Wangji minded; he still marveled at his husband’s calm acceptance of his less than perfect behavior. And it wasn’t as if he were really tired. They’d been back in Cloud Recesses only a handful of days and most of that time Wei Wuxian had been able to rest, to wander the back hill, to play with the rabbits, to tease Sizhui and Jingyi, to play Chenqing to the birds and the rainbows the sun cast in the light mists of Gusu’s waterfalls. No, he supposed. He yawned because he was warm, well-fed, secure and safe, and in the best company a person could desire, let alone have all to himself.

Lan Wangji sat on the other side of the desk, and in spite of the hour was still working through the backlog of mail which had accumulated in his absence.

“What’s this?” A bundle of papers caught Wei Wuxian’s eye, and on impulse he reached and drew them out of the stack.

Lan Wangji looked up. “After the events at Gyanyin Temple, members of the Lan Clan disposed of the bodies, sealed the coffin in which Red Blade Master and Jin Guangyao are buried, and otherwise put the site in order. Among these activities, Su She’s body was searched and his personal effects catalogued. A quiankun pouch was found, containing an assortment of items. This bundle of papers was also in the pouch. I assume it was forwarded to me because I am the subject.”

Wei Wuxian leafed through the pages. It was a collection of sketches in a variety of media, all of Hanguang Jun’s face, mostly sketches of his eyes. They weren’t half bad: the artist had captured the micro-expressions which concealed everything but hid nothing of Hanguang Jun’s thoughts. But as he examined the pile, he experienced an increasing sensation of wrongness.

“I wonder what he was trying to capture. I mean, here’s ice, here’s anger. I think this one is arrogance or being haughty; and this one has to be indifference. And this,” he huffed out with a half smile, “has got to be ‘you are the scum beneath my shoe’.” That was a micro-expression Wei Wuxian had seen often on Lan Wangji’s face when they were young, as he kept poking and prodding until the carefully cultivated mask his friend wore finally slipped. He spread out the pictures, his eyes searching for the clues he knew he’d find. “Why would he want to draw these things and exclude others? I know a lot of people are afraid of you, Lan Zhan, because you look cold and imperturbable. But anyone who knows you and watches closely can see that there’s so much more to you than that.”

“Su She was cast out of the Lan Clan because he betrayed our secrets to Wen Xu. He was known for being desirous of imitating me – poorly. We can only speculate as to his motivations otherwise,” Lan Wangji commented quietly.

“Mmmm,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “He hated you, but he also idolized you. Who’s to say what came first? Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “The fact he captured your eyes with these strong antagonistic expressions suggests he hated himself, and perhaps wanted to make you the one who hated him in his own mind. It’s easier to hate someone than to live with the pain of feeling rejected or not even noticed.”

“I never hated Su She.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to hate anyone, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Wuxian felt a surge of protective affection for this dear man. “Not even those who deserve it. Su She unfairly judged you and didn’t know you at all. Still, when you think about what people say about me, the scary deranged Yiling Patriarch, anything’s possible in terms of what people do to themselves to justify hatred. Blargh!” He made claws with his hands and pulled a terrifying crazy Yiling Laozu face.

“Wei Ying.” There was amusement dancing in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You do not scare me.”

Sometimes Lan Wangji could abruptly light a fuse in Wei Wuxian and leave him smoking. He laughed and crawled around to Lan Wangji’s side of the table, climbing into his lap to sit with one leg either side of Lan Wangji’s waist. His husband’s hands came up to support his lower back. He put both hands loosely around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangi had removed his silver coronet and tendrils of hair that usually were wound up to hold the headpiece in place trailed either side of his face, making him look softer and younger and so much more vulnerable.

For some time they sat simply looking at each other. Wei Wuxian took in the flawless face, reaching one hand to trace Lan Wangi’s eyebrow, feeling the soft hairs brush beneath his fingerpads. He gently followed the line of an eyelash, delighting in the butterfly kiss as his husband blinked. Out over the swell of zygomatic bone, cupping around his perfectly shaped ear – he really was like exquisitely carved jade, warm, living, and here. He cupped Lan Wangji’s cheek, his thumb finding the hollow between nose and lip and the soft breath of life it held. And those lips, now quirked in a loving bow.

He pulled himself up to kiss the forehead ribbon, to plant gentle brushes of his lips over all the places he’d touched. When he came to Lan Wangji’s mouth, he finally let go, giving all his worship as they joined tongues, teeth, desire, losing themselves in each other.

They released the kiss, and held each other, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Between them energy sizzled – it would be sated later, but it was sufficient for now to enjoy the beatitude of the moment, the closeness, words unnecessary to communicate the depth of heart each held for the other.

***

Wei Wuxian was traveling. His absence itched acutely just under Lan Wangji’s skin, a constant worry. He rued the duty which pinned him in his current dual roles: Chief Cultivator and Acting Sect Leader, keeping him grounded at Cloud Recesses instead of off night hunting with his husband.

It was necessary, he knew, for Wei Wuxian to move; the whole man was a study in movement, in ceaseless energy. He knew the staid and stable pattern of life at Cloud Recesses felt like a box to Wei Ying, and while he could endure for a season, he needed more than what life in Gusu offered, even with rabbits and a back hill to wander for hours.

But oh, he missed him. And he worried too: who would defend him when he had so little sense of self-preservation?

This journey, Wei Wuxian had set off to attempt to mend things with Jiang Cheng before making his way up to Lanling to see Jin Ling. One of the highest values for the Lan was family, and Lan Wangji understood the deep need his husband had for those connections – had encouraged it.

It was just as well Wei Wuxian had mastered the butterfly talisman (and enhanced it). Morning and night he would wait for the silvery wings to alight with Wei Wuxian’s messages of love and thought to whisper through his qi. Sometimes they were profound, poetry. Sometimes playful; sometimes just a kiss. Lan Wangji came to depend on those messages, and on being able to send some back himself: I love you, I miss you, come home soon.

He sighed. This morning had grown tedious. Today was the end of the accounting period for Clan matters, and while there was staff to manage the minutiae of bookkeeping, as Acting Clan Leader LanWangji was examining the records before tomorrow’s visit from the auditor. Not for the first time he lamented his brother’s seclusion, necessary though it was. Dealing with finances was the part of the role that least appealed to Lan Wangji; he felt a headache brewing and was contemplating taking a break when there was a knock on the door.

“Hanguang Jun, mail has arrived,” the disciple said, handing him a bundle.

“Thank you. Please ask the kitchen to send me some lunch,” he requested, taking the pile.

The disciple departed, and he began to sort the items: those about Clan matters, those for the Chief Cultivator. One letter stood out, a simple scroll tied with a red thread. Putting all the other mail aside he carefully opened the scroll and took a breath.

It was an ink painting of his eyes, creased ever so slightly in an expression of amusement. On his brow the forehead ribbon glinted silver, his hair loosely framing his cheeks. He instantly recognized the artist, tracing a finger over the brush strokes as if that touch could unite him with the hand that had made them.

“Wei Ying,” he said, infinite fondness filling him.

Throughout the rest of the day he kept the picture on his desk, glancing at it from time to time. And when it was time to turn his attention to other things, he gently placed the picture in his sleeve to take back to the jingshi.

Every couple of days another picture would arrive. This too became something Lan Wangji expected, an important and significant marker in his day, each picture a symbol that he was one day closer to seeing, holding, touching, tasting Wei Wuxian again.

***

300 years later

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao had come to the Forbidden Room in the Library Pavilion seeking a book she’d known had been here years earlier. Back then she’d been a mischievous girl seeking a way to prank Shufu, and she vividly remembered the green cover. Lan filing methods hadn’t changed in hundreds of years, so that wretched book had to be here somewhere.

She moved a pile of dusty scrolls, cursing under her breath when she knocked a stack of bamboo books which went tumbling over the floor. Patience, she told herself strictly. Breathe and control.

Feeling a little more composed, she bent to restore the mess to order. A red cover caught her eye on one of the lower shelves. She’d not seen that before, and she was sure she’d have recognized it if she had. It was quite distinct, a deep red, tied shut with of all things a Clan ribbon.

Intrigued, she opened the volume, carefully untying the ribbon and leafing through the pages. Page after page were pictures of a handsome man’s eyes: crinkled in delight, weeping with sorrow, dancing with affection, on and on they went. Sometimes the whole of the man’s lovely face was shown: in some he wore the elaborate silver coronet her ancestors had favored, in others his long tresses floated around his face, and the artist had clearly captured a treasured, private, and vulnerable moment.

Around half way through the volume the pictures changed: a spritely young man in black, his underrobe a vivid red (the same colour as the cover of the book, as it happened – and she wondered whether it was indeed cut from the same cloth), a red ribbon in his hair, holding a black dizi. This array of pictures had a different hand, a more understated eye which captured the young man’s energetic aura, as well as pensive moments – the youth had clearly been to hell and back, and Lan Shuoxiao could almost feel the immense love with which the person who’d drawn these pictures had made each stroke.

There were so many! Page sized varied: a compendium gathered together of odd scraps. The last page bore an inscription:

In loving memory of my parents, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang Jun, and Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu. The true faces of both, in their own hands. Love letters sent to dearest him who was, alas, away. Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui, Chief Cultivator.

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Clan records declared Hanguang Jun’s partner’s name to have been Lan Ying, Lan Wuxian. How had they never made the connection before that “Lan Wuxian” was in fact the infamous Yiling Patriarch? Given that the two had Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui’s name inscribed under theirs as offspring, Lan Shuoxiao and many others had assumed Lan Wuxian to be female.

She looked closely again at one of the pictures of the young man in black and red. He didn’t look like the evil dictator of legend. He looked mischievous and full of life, an impression caught in the laughing smile, and so… youthful.

Not that demonic cultivation was these days the issue it had been for her ancestors; these days cultivation was emphasized to be about harnessing the yin of negative energy and the yang of positive energy, holding them in balance and using each appropriately. She doubted the people who had so feared and hated the Yiling Patriarch would be able to recognize as righteous the way all cultivators now practiced as a matter of course.

As for Hanguang Jun… She flicked back to a picture in which his whole upper body had been captured as he played guqin, a study of someone completely caught up and focused on the music, almost in ecstasy. Another private moment revealing something about the essence of the man. He was so beautiful, captivating. And such a contrast from all the other images she’d ever seen of him. Hanguang Jun had a reputation even now, 150 years after he had Ascended, for being cold, somewhat forbidding, distant, just, merciful and benevolent, untouchable, unrivalled in almost all fields. That was how he appeared at the Gate of Gusu, carved of jade, opposite his brother, Zewu Jun, the famous Twin Jades of Gusu Lan now its guardians, their representations inscribed and infused with talismans and ward tethers. Rumor was that no evil could come to Cloud Recesses as long as the Twin Jades stood at the gates. How was anyone to reconcile that formidable image with this? This picture of a very human, vulnerable, gentle man, who was clearly so very much loved by the artist who drew him.

Lan Shuoxiao found herself on the edge of tears. It felt like an injustice, looking at these intimate sketches, that history had forgotten Wei Wuxian as little more than a footnote. And that the righteous Hanguang Jun had been immortalized as a stiff, cold and distant deity rather than someone’s beloved whose heart beat wildly in his chest in longing, and whose blood was warm and red and thrummed with reciprocated affection. She wondered how they had found one another, wondered about the history in which they must have been caught up: how did it affect them? What trials had they passed through before they finally found their way to each other’s arms?

She reverently closed the volume, her original mission in coming here put aside. Thoughtfully, she collected up the scrolls and bamboo books and reordered them, and then closed the Forbidden Room.

***

Several months later a new scene was depicted on the climbing path around the residences of Gusu: a beautiful, crowned Lan sat cross-legged in the back hill meadow, covered in a blanket of rabbits. His loving gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him under a peach tree in full bloom, who was standing and playing a dizi. The legend beneath read: Hanguang Jun and his cultivation partner Yiling Laozu, Lan Wuxian.

 FIN

[fleetofshippyships]

micro-prompt: "I don't know what to do" for xicheng - less than 300 words :p

(Yassss, a challenge!!! although actually, I found it to be more like: 300 words is SO MUCH XD | Word Count: 237 )

Warnings: a little spicy, but like, soft spicy =)

“I don’t know what to do,” Jiang Cheng whispered, hiding his face in Lan Xichen’s neck, hand shaking at his hip.

Even his lips trembled against Lan Xichen’s skin, breaking through whatever effort he was sure to be making to mask his worries and inexperience. It was more than Lan Xichen expected. Not the inexperience, he’d known of that a long time before they’d even kissed, but Jiang Cheng trusting him enough to even say it out loud.

For once, he was at a loss for words. There was not much that could be said to Jiang Cheng, in the wake of his rare expressions of vulnerability, that would not result in stirring his famous temper. And already stripped bare, Lan Xichen did not relish needing to rush after him, should he storm out of the room.

“Ah,” he said softly, buying time. He cradled Jiang Cheng’s face and lifted it from the crook of his neck to catch his lips.

Jiang Cheng sighed, a huffy sound sending warm air tickling over Lan Xichen’s cheek, but he returned the kiss, and even lingered after, brushing his lips along Lan Xichen’s jaw.

Lan Xichen reached down and gently lifted Jiang Cheng’s hand from his hip. He gave it a soothing squeeze, and then pressed Jiang Cheng’s fingers to his skin. He pulled them gently along, a smooth, light brush across his abdomen.

“I’ll show you how,” he whispered.

---

No AO3 link, posting to ao3 as I do these will only slow me down XD I might compile challenge prompts into a single fic at some point later, keep an eye out =)

[elialys]

Girl! You really don’t know how good of an writer you are do you? You only get 300- kudos in your fics because you write for dead/micro fandoms. If you wrote for active fandom i have no doubt you would become the most popular writer in that fandom in no time. How you capture the characters personalities and mannerisms is so on point that i have difficulty,to this day, remembering if something happened in an episode of Fringe or if i read it in one of your fics.

“You only get 300- kudos in your fics because you write for dead/micro fandoms.“

I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE CALLED OUT ANON.

Although obviously, you’re not wrong. About me somehow always ending up writing for tiny/dead fandoms, I mean. I’ll never be pretentious enough to think I would be most popular in anything xD Thank you so much for your kind words on my writing, though, it’s only 6am here and you’ve put a bright smile on my face :’)

[ao3-feedshance]

Voltron Typetrigger Collection

by scriveyner (trismegistus)

A collection of short (300 words or less) micro fic for Voltron. Multi-pairings.

Words: 2699, Chapters: 9/?, Language: English

Series: Part 34 of Voltron Fic Collection

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt

Relationships: Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Microfic, Drabble Collection

source http://archiveofourown.org/works/19768786

[ao3feed-skk]

by scriveyner (trismegistus)

A collection of short (300 words or less) micro fics originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly pairing fic, some gen.

Words: 300, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Bungou Stray Dogs Fic Collection

Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional Tags: Microfic, Drabble Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr

[ao3feed-keithshiro]

Voltron Typetrigger Collection

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Y6YJgU

by scriveyner (trismegistus)

A collection of short (300 words or less) micro fic for Voltron. Multi-pairings.

Words: 2699, Chapters: 9/?, Language: English

Series: Part 34 of Voltron Fic Collection

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt

Relationships: Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Microfic, Drabble Collection

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Y6YJgU

[pagsys-writings]

80. Canvass

(I am only slightly annoyed that this was canvass and not canvas)

Koushirou hunched over his keyboard — he gave up on proper posture hours ago. Empty containers of takeout were shoved to the side to make room for the concerning number of energy drinks. He was running on caffeine and adrenaline. His eyes scanned line after line of data as he reported the constantly updating data. He rubbed at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew.

It was just the opportunity Taichi was looking for. He quickly shut the laptop, earning a squawk of disbelief. “Taichi!” Koushirou reprimanded. They were in the final weeks of the campaign. He didn’t have time for this.

“You need a break.” Taichi picked up the laptop and began tossing Koushirou’s precious energy drinks in the trash. “When was the last time you saw the sun?”

Koushirou bit his tongue, not wanting to worry Taichi further. He went back to the original topic. “You need more votes. I think I can get you a spot at my university to canvass since you’re most popular with that population. If we can encourage them to vote on election day then—” 

Taichi silenced him with a kiss and Koushirou immediately melted and felt the stress bleed out of his body, leaving him exhausted. “Let’s get you some fresh air and some real food.” Koushirou didn’t have it in him to argue and let Taichi guide him.

[livlepretre]

For the fanfic ask game: L, O, X :)

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

It probably ends up being somewhere between 3-6 times per chapter, but the actual process tends to look like this: 

I start from a bullet outline of the chapter, which is very flow of conscious, and is just about figuring out all the scenes I want to include, and what order they should go in. I then start writing from that guideline, but very flexibly, realizing that scenes will occur to me as I go and that some things will have to happen earlier or later or even that multiple scenes might end up fitting into one big explosive scene. 

So, I tend to write, somewhere between like 300-1200 words, then I call it a day, and the next day, I’ll reread over everything I wrote the day before, and make changes as they occur to me during this reread, or maybe feather in points I’d thought about while I was at work, etc. 

And I keep doing this– rereading the portions I’ve already written in preparation for writing the next scene(s) and tailoring as I work. This gets to be especially important the further into the chapter I go, because I might realize that the emotional continuity is way off, or that I should have had some technical conversation earlier on to ease the writing later (or, in the case of the current chapter, I realized that several scenes I’ve been holding on to in my head for a few years HAVE to happen this chapter or, due to changing plot conditions, I’ll never get another shot, whoops). 

I am basically the stereotypical prints right off the press type in the sense that, as soon as a chapter is over, I very impatiently read it over again, unfortunately without giving the last scene or two the same level of coaxing as the earlier passages, and publish, promptly find tons of typos and micro changes I want to make. I kind of like that about fanfic though; if you accept that it’s always going to be riddled with errors and that the whole thing is a learning project, it can still be a lot of fun. 

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

I like to begin, actually, with a scenario. So, I guess plot? 

Like, I am really fond of canon divergence, so most of my fics are like, what if Klaus actually did take Elena with him at the end of 3x05? What if Elena had gone to college at Tulane? What if Elena was thrown back in time to New Orleans circa 1820 AND SHE HAD AMNESIA (okay, this is my guilty pleasure fic idea, because what happens when she remembers)

From there, I think that character determines plot. So, I spend a lot of time mapping out what each character’s motives/goals are, and I try to find a way to make each character dynamic in that setting. Like, in FE when I was mapping out the New Orleans stuff that’s happening, I drew a little chart– Klaus’s goals are to get rid of the coven and to free the wolves; Stefan’s goal is primarily to get Elena out of New Orleans alive, and he’s in tension with Rebekah because Rebekah just wants to make peace between Marcel and Klaus, so she went ahead and brokered that deal that put Elena in direct danger. Marcel, as we will soon discover, wants to get the bloodstone back without Klaus ever noticing that it exists. Going into this arc, I had some very broad ideas of what I wanted to happen plot-wise (well, the bloodstone coming back and being in contention), and everything else got filled in while thinking hard about what everyone wanted.  

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Obviously Klaus! I’m ecstatically through the roof contemplating his future. 

[ao3feed-dramione]

Micro Fic Challenge

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cN2lrV

by monsterleadmehome

A collection of 100-word stories from Twitter prompts! Ratings and fandom will vary.

Words: 300, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Original Work

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Original Characters

Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Kylo Ren/Rey, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: Drabble Collection

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cN2lrV

[scriveyner]

there’s no secret

"Dazai-san," Atsushi said carefully, holding a piece of paper that had been jammed between two folders in a filing box. "Is this a marriage certificate?" Dazai was lying on the couch in the office, his treasured book on suicide splayed open over his face to block the sunlight during his mid-afternoon nap. He lifted the book now, and looked at Atsushi with a frown - then his eyes alighted on the slightly-crumpled piece of cardstock and he flung himself upright. "So THAT'S where it went!" "Uh huh," Atsushi said. "You're… married? You?” Dazai plucked the certificate from Atsushi's hands and held it out, beaming. "Oh, it was just for a laugh." He leaned in toward Atsushi conspiratorially. "We went to one of those little chapels when I was on business in Las Vegas. I couldn't convince anyone to jump into the Grand Canyon with me, don't you think that would be an amazing declaration of love, to fall tragically to our deaths?" "Uh-huh," Atsushi repeated, not impressed. "Go back to the getting married thing please." "After my many failures to woo the beautiful women we met along the way, Chuuya-kun and I got a little.. inebriated." Dazai held the certificate to his chest and sighed wistfully. "It was such a lovely little ceremony. I thought I'd lost this, I must have just filed it for safekeeping." There was a long moment of silence, and Atsushi looked stressed. "Wait." He processed this information. "You … you got married to Chuuya-san?" "I did!" Dazai still had a distant, blissful expression on his face. "Vegas is a fantastic spot for a honeymoon, by the way." "Dazai-san." "Yes?" "Does Chuuya-san even remember this?" "Nope!" Dazai sparkled. "I have pictures, do you want to see them? He's still so tiny even in heels, but his hair was amazing- Atsushi-kun, who are you texting?" "Nobody," Atsushi said, staring intently at his phone.

[orange-peony]

Written for @drarrymicrofic with the prompt "discord" (better late than never).

Draco opens his eyes lazily, his body sore and still covered in dirt from last night's transformation. He reaches for his wand and casts a cleaning charm, wincing as he checks the fresh wounds on his naked body. He should try to heal himself or at least summon Miffy to ask her for some salve, but she's going to be terrified again, and Draco can't stand feeling like a monster anymore.

The room is warm, the Malfoy hunting lodge quiet and peaceful. Draco can hear the sounds of the woods from his open window. Birds chirping, the wind and the rustle of green leaves.

When he wakes up again, his eyes open wide in fear. He can feel the wards bending and breaking, someone apparating with a loud crack outside his bedroom. Draco can smell him before he even opens the door. Mud and leaves and musk. And something that reminds Draco of flying over a sea of flames, clutching at a sweaty back, black curls smelling of smoke.

The wolf inside Draco whines, the words mate and mine circling through his head, pushing him to get closer, to touch and bite and claim.

The door opens, and Draco gasps when he sees him.

Potter's hair is all white.

But Draco is not a monster, so he stands up, still naked, and takes slow steps towards the Saviour.

"The last time I saw you, Fenrir had his fangs in you. Right before he got me," Draco murmurs, his voice hoarse from a night spent howling at the moon. "I thought you were dead. Everyone did."

"Took me ages to find you," Potter croaks, then clears his throat, his fingers reaching tentatively for Draco's skin, tracing the faint line of a scar on his chest. "Mine," Potter murmurs.

Draco steps closer.