#I think if I could get over myself and just write this fic as snippets of Mike and Chuck being morally grey and codependent

[hirazuki]

📓give me yer plots

Plots? Plural?? Okay, you get three ♡

I only included ideas that I am not currently/actively working on.

Maedhros + Mairon team up AU: After Luthien and Beren nab the silmaril and scram, Melkor actually does give chase and follows them south towards Doriath, and he cuts through Nan Dungortheb where he is ambushed by Ungoliant's spawn (I think if he was alone, given how physically weak he is at this point in time + just having woken up from Luthien's spell, he'd be easy prey) who take him and his crown with the remaining two silmarils and bear him to the south of the continent where Ungoliant has been waiting to exact revenge and claim/consume the jewels. Mairon comes home after having lost Tol-in-Gaurhoth to find Angband in panic, not being able to find Melkor anywhere. He decides to infiltrate Himring, it being the closest center of elven activity and information that is also open enough to travelers, etc. for a new face to pass unnoticed, to see if he can find out if the enemy has Melkor. Maedhros, having had him as a visitor for 30+ years while hanging off a cliff, recognizes him pretty quickly despite the disguise. They team up and go on a life-changing fieldtrip to the south of Beleriand to retrieve one dark lord (for Mairon) and two silmarils (for Maedhros).

Maeglin in Rivendell AU: Maeglin either is brought back by the Powers to help in the War of the Ring (yes, it's inspired by that one poll a while back XD) or actually somehow survived (I haven't decided which I prefer) and ends up in Rivendell. Not really a cohesive linear plot kind of fic, as much as a series of character interactions/exploration of themes: Maeglin and Elrond, Maeglin and Glorfindel, Maeglin and Eowyn, Maeglin and Frodo, to list a few of my top ones.

Eol makes a stone that outshines the silmarils AU: @melkors-defense-attorney and @mirkwood-hr-department take equal share of the blame credit for this completely wild idea yes it still lives rent free in my head, I have not forgotten about it XD. Basically, Eol is much closer to the dwarves than he is to his own kin, and would probably be more comfortable going to them for courtship advice re: Aredhel. Hence, presenting her with the shiniest rock as a gift early on in her stay at Nan Elmoth. Problem is, she has seen the silmarils, so it would have to be an extra shiny rock. He accidentally makes a stone that outdoes the silmarils; cascading world-wide consequences follow XD (These include: angry Feanorians; angry Melkor, at not having the Shiniest Thing™ and seeking Eol out in his forest a la Evil Queen style, to trade his two silmarils for this one; Eol (in this timeline, never having been to Angband) being so isolated he literally doesn't recognize Melkor and slamming the door in Melkor's face ("no solicitors!!"); angrier Melkor (that's two door-slamming elves now); angrier Feanorians (that Melkor would seek to trade the silmarils with Eol of all people); one very swoony Aredhel at the balls of this elf throwing the Dark Lord out on his ass.)

[mothwingwritings]

Apologies

Reader X Welt Yang

I want to preface this little story snippet by saying I don’t really plan on regularly writing for Honkai Star Rail (this may be the only thing I write for HSR tbh) and I’ve not gotten super far into it (I only just recently got to Luofo) but I love Welt Yang with all my little beating heart and I get sad that he doesn’t seem to be as popular as the other dudes when it comes to fic content, so I wrote him a little something. :3

I really want to try and push myself out of my comfort zone and get more acclimated with writing nice characters through the yandere/dark fic lens. Mr. Yang has become one of my guinea pigs so bless him.

WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mentions of physical and mental abuse, yandere, dubcon kissing/touching.

Your first kiss with Welt was full of desperation.

His iron grip held you taut against his body, while ravenous lips pressed down firmly upon your own. It felt more like an attempt at suffocation than a kiss, and you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the ferocity at which he came for you. Was such unbridled desire always lying dormant in this reserved, kind, gentle man this whole time? The interaction happened so fast it was hard to process what was going on, let alone decipher the true intentions of the man who was perpetrating the act.

Discomfort bordering on pain-this was how you would remember his initial show of affection.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words followed his first tense love confession and succeeded each one thereafter. Every hold that lasted a beat too long, every kiss the was a tad too invasive, every moment he lost control of himself and ended up hurting you as a result of his unchecked passion, a fervent apology would follow shortly after. They would tumble from his lips in breathy whispers, spoken as if they were a prayer, peppered in with the delicate kisses he would litter over the wounds that he had inflicted upon you.

It didn’t matter how gingerly he’d treat you after, you’d wince at each unwanted kiss. The sear of his lips causing you more pain than any other touch ever could.

“I’m sorry.”

He said it so much it was becoming like a catch phrase. When he caught you crying alone in your room or when he felt you struggle against his overbearing affection, the words would spill from within him. His regrets would be relayed to you in hushed tones, mumbled against your skin, chanted to you over and over and over again, begging to be absolved of the sins he was committing against you.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words no longer held any meaning.

“I’m sorry.”

They were only spoken to make himself feel better.

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking himself into thinking he wasn’t hurting you, that by saying them he was making something right.

“I’m sorry.”

If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.

“I’M SORRY!”

You were, too.  Sorry that you believed he was a good man, sorry that you trusted him, and sorry that you were once naïve enough to ever have given your heart to him.

[kiwiana-writes]

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

Thanks @welcometololaland @beautifulhigh @orchidscript for the tags today—hopefully that’s everyone, apologies if not—and to everyone who’s tagged me over the last few weeks. The old mental health is once again Not Great Jim and writing is not coming easily but unfortunately it is also the only way I know how to feel good about myself so here we are persevering etc.

This is from the blackmail kink fic—if that’s something you’re morally opposed to, I support your right to feel that way but I also do not care, keep scrolling xoxo

Snippet is under the cut but first, tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice

@everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz

@leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites

@ninzied @nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @piratefalls

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

Otherwise, (hopefully) enjoy the spice below the cut…

It started on Reddit, as all good decisions do.

Alex has always had a bit of a thing about being watched. It’s not narcissism—shut the fuck up, Nora—he just… really fucking likes knowing that he’s the one getting someone off. Since starting college, Alex has perfected the art of the risqué selfie; keeping his abs and thighs in the shot as well as his dick, lighting himself well, making sure he’s suitably vocal as he strokes himself when he posts a video instead of a picture. Reddit, with its ridiculous number of NSFW subreddits ranging from the expected to the terrifyingly specific, is an instant feedback loop of people more than willing to tell him, in explicit detail, exactly what it is about his body and his actions and his sounds that brings them over the edge. His DMs range from respectfully horny to disrespectfully horny in a way he’s been very clear he’s onto, with only the odd one that is actually disrespectful, and they find themselves on the inconvenient side of the block button before Alex can say ‘fuck off’.

And then, a few months after he started posting semi-regularly, he opened his Reddit chats to find a message reading simply:

NYU? Pretty sure I recognise that view out your window haha

It should have been terrifying. It was, genuinely, a good reminder about stranger danger. Except Alex had gotten a hand around his cock without thinking about it, staring at the words on his phone screen, mind spinning with the possibility that someone could put two and two together, that someone on campus might have dozens of pictures of Alex’s dick on their phone without Alex knowing, that someone could put him on his knees to stop his secret getting out…

He’d come harder and faster than he had in months, and spent the next several hours down a brand new fucking rabbit hole.

[bellaxgiornata]

Honestly I cannot believe that I've been on tumblr for just over a year now and somehow there's already so many of you wonderful people here that are reading, enjoying, and supporting my silly little fics. When I jumped over here from AO3, I had not anticipated how much fun I was going to have getting to chat with all of y'all while also sharing my stories with those of you who aren't on AO3. I've definitely made some wonderful friends this past year because of tumblr and I just want to say thank you to everyone for the support. I always mean it when I say y'all are the reason I keep writing these stories 💖

I could certainly get sappier but instead I'll just invite y'all to join me for my first ever celebration! There's a few fun things below the cut that y'all can pop up with in my ask box starting today May 3 through Wednesday May 8! I tried to think of some interesting things that I could realistically make time to do with everything currently going on in my life, especially because I'm also still trying to stockpile rough drafts for many of my stories so that I can still have updates during my upcoming "writing hiatus" (that I'll explain more about later). My plan is to answer things as they come in and hopefully have them all finished shortly after the celebration ends. And once the celebration finally ends, I'm hoping to give y'all an update to a story or a one shot!

Hopefully this will be fun for everyone!

Let's Chat! - Feel free to send me an ask about anything at all! No, seriously. You want to tell me about your day? An upcoming vacation or exciting accomplishment of yours? Do it! Or maybe you want to ask me questions about one of my stories or my writing process? Hell, feel free to ask me about myself, chat about coffee, music, books, pets, whatever!

Discuss Headcanons with Me! - Have any headcanons about Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, or Michael Kinsella that you want to chat about or share with me? Send them in! Or are you interested in a headcanon I might have about one of them in a certain situation? Feel free to ask! We can chat about the boys!

Send Me Fake FFTD Installment Titles! - Create a title name for an installment for my Falling for the Devil series (ex. "The [insert title]") and I'll write a couple of sentences about what I could picture that installment being about! You win bonus points if you can actually stump me on coming up with a plot for your title. But also who knows, maybe some title suggestions could spark an idea for future updates...

Let's Play a Game! - We can play would you rather, have you ever, or fuck/marry/kiss (or kill). For the record, f/m/k can be with anyone from Daredevil, Punisher, Defenders, Kin, or even any of Charlie's characters that I'm familiar with (Matt, Michael, Owen, Henry, Tristan, or Adam) or those of Jon's that I'm familiar with (mainly Frank, Shane, or Julian). If you can think of another game feel free to play it with me!

Ask the Boys! - Do you enjoy my weird internal dialogues with fictional characters that probably make me sound crazy? Great! Feel free to send me an ask to either one or all of the fictional men that live in my head (Matt, Frank, and/or Mikey) and I'll relay whatever they respond with in something of a short internal dialogue!

Request a Sneak Peak! - Since I have been stockpiling quite a few WIPs and rough drafts for a couple of months now, I am open to y'all just requesting a sneak peak. If you do, I will share a snippet from a fic I choose at random from something that's either a fully finished rough draft or still a work in progress!

**You're more than welcome to participate multiple times, but all I ask is that you (1) send things in separate asks, (2) are not rude to me or anyone else, and (3) are 18+ to discuss anything spicy (this is an 18+ blog anyway so I'd hope everyone here already is).**

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey, for once I’m posting early!  Thank you to : @blackberrysummerblog, @rimeswithpurple, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @artsyunderstudy,

@roomwithanopenfire, @larkral, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @wellbelesbian, @letraspal,

@prettygoododds, @bookish-bogwitch, and @whatevertheweather (good to see you back!) for the tags over the last two weeks. 

The summer has been good for me. I’m getting organized and having more time to write! I’ve started the new fic I teased a couple of weeks ago (the one that I was waiting to start until Heart in The Well finished). It’s probably going to be my angstiest one to date, fair warning. 

Here’s one snippet from each of my WIPs 

From Saving Simon Snow: 

“So, you think,” Bunce says slowly, “that the act of casting a spell is calling more magic to the area?”

“Kind of,” Simon says.” His lips twist and he tugs at his sleep-matted curls as he tries to work out how to explain himself. Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Not calls more magic. More like takes the magic that’s already there and concentrates it. Gives it a shape. Like, Normals are the source of magic, right? And they produce magic in and of themselves, but they can’t use it. It’s just, like, loose and spread out around them as they go about their lives. But then mages, we use words to give that loose magic a form, and that pulls it together, right? Pulls it into the shape the mage wants it to have. And so doesn’t that mean that Mages are pulling magic from the magical atmosphere each time they cast a spell?”

From Snow Fox: 

Every nerve in my body is on alert. 

I sent the boys home. They’re probably not the reason I’ve been betrayed, but right now, I can’t trust anyone. 

Except Simon.

I need to get to Simon. 

But first…I need to make sure I’m actually alone.

From TikTok Dancer: 

He’s dancing alone. His friends are there, running the music and cameras, but they’re also different. Quiet and focused. Also, if I’m reading their expressions correctly, they’re just a little bit worried, as they watch Simon dance. 

The whole thing makes me feel unsettled and oddly light. Like there’s a bubble of helium in my chest that will soon lift me right off the ground. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that Simon Snow never takes his eyes off of me when he dances. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

When I’m feeling greatly daring, I travel back to our home beach. I stop a distance away, and stay behind trees or rocks, but it gives me some comfort to watch the flicker of shadows in the firelight as Simon moves around performing his evening routine. It’s the only time I allow myself to watch him. If I see him during the day, my priority is to stay out of sight, but there’s little danger that he’ll go traipsing about looking for me after dark, so the darkness is my ally.

It hurts, to see him. But it’s a pain that fortifies me. After a few minutes watching him, I’m able to rest more peacefully knowing that he’s safe and well. The pain of missing him subsides enough to let me continue to live without him.

From Cupid’s Shield:

 “Baz, fight it. You have to. The anathema—”

Now I know he’s aware, in some form. I see fear on his face and tears forming in his eyes. But, at the same time, he’s reaching up to the collar of his own shirt, and ripping it away from his skin. 

That’s it. He’s helpless against Cupid’s spell. He’s going to lose everything because a fucking god with a grudge tore his free will away.

That’s probably my fault too. I pissed Cupid off. He must have hunted down Baz because I was immune to his arrows. That means it’s my responsibility to fix this. 

“Please,” he whispers.

From The Rat and the River

I’m aware that I don’t need to be out of bed right now. Simon Snow will be completely fine without me seeing him off. I could probably sleep for the hours the team will be gone, as there won’t be much for me to do until they’re back. 

Like I could sleep when Simon is out there. In the hot zone. 

It’s a sensationalistic term, “hot zone,” but it captures how I feel about the area of highest risk of infection. Hot, as in getting in hot water or hot as in playing with fire. 

Also hot as in Simon Snow is the hottest man I’ve ever known, even in a shapeless white positive-pressure suit, but that’s irrelevant right now. 

And from my new project, untitled as yet, the following: 

I feel myself slipping. 

Other than the daily cup of blood with a bendy straw, I haven’t seen light in weeks. Maybe months. And for the last several days or weeks, I’ve not even had that. I’ve woken up from a doze to find the blood already inside the coffin with me. I spend more time drifting, semi-conscious, than I do actually awake and aware now.

After all, there’s nothing good about being awake and aware. 

Tags and shout-outs to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22,

@moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade,

@upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget,

@confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi,

@hushed-chorus, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt (happy birthday!),

@cosmicalart,  @cutestkilla (also happy birthday!), @theearlgreymage, @alexalexinii, @Iamamythologicalcreature,

@emeryhall, @ileadacharmedlife, @messofthejess, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress,

@nausikaaa, @youarenevertooold, @j-nipper-95, and @facewithoutheart

[the-s1lly-corner]

Shut In (Eyeless Jack x reader oneshot!)

Basic plot: its really cold outside, and you urge Jack to stay in your home with you... he decides to stay despite knowing full well that he will be fine out in the freezing temperatures. You both decide to do things to pass the time and stay warm! Turns out Jack can make a mean cup of hot coco, too

Extra notes: I dont usually write fanfics, and the last one I've written was a personal one from late August... so to say I'm rusty and underexperienced is an understatement! I feel this one ended up a little.. weirdly paced imo but I think I'm still happy with the end result! Dialogue I feel I could have done better on but I'm going to be nice to myself since I mostly write hc posts so this is way out of my comfort zone.. Drafted on Tumblr then sent through google docs to pick up on some mistakes I missed, briefly reread no proper proof reading imo... lets hope this isnt a train wreck + it copied back to tumblr okay!! LMAO

Brief joke about pregnancy/making a pregnancy but its like one small snippet but I know that can make people uncomfortable + implies at least one of the characters is AFAB

Word Count: 2915

Extra Admin's note: I want to say again that I am so so happy about this blog hitting 1k followers, when I first started this blog I was originally going to use it to burn time and have something to do on the side, as well as having a place to put out my cringe ideas and hcs. I never thought this many people would be interested in my dumb thoughts, but here we are! I intend to keep writing this year, and perhaps even make more non-celebratory one shots this year? Maybe? I don't know I guess we'll see the reception on this fic!

It was the middle of the night, around the middle of January. Your boyfriend and you were holed up inside your apartment, you having locked the man up with you after seeing that it was below freezing out, as well as raining. You had to practically beg your boyfriend to stay with you for the night.

Your boyfriend, who also just so happened to be a man eating demon with tar dripping out of his hollowed out eye sockets. Your boyfriend, who was currently sitting still and staring forward, the only sound in the apartment coming from the dripping of your faucet. You had asked him to come visit you, it'd been a while... and he would never ever let you go to his cabin when it's this cold out. So here you both were now.

You pat the palms of your hands on your knees, sucking in one of your cheeks and working the flesh through your jaws for a moment. You were both technically stuck in the apartment now; you didn't want Jack to go out and risk getting sick, and Jack more than likely wouldn't want you to step out for the same reasons. So, you were both confined to what you already had within the space. You were about to open your mouth to speak but Jack broke the silence first. "You're shivering, do you want me to get some blankets?", blunt and almost robotic. He was never that expressive. "Or would you like to go to your room?" He added after a brief pause, his fangs poking just over his lip before he readjusted his mouth. You were both in the living room, sitting together on the couch; the front door to your left and a view of the kitchen to the right. You thought for a minute as your eyes lingered on the kitchen for a moment. You'd already eaten, before your partner arrived... but..

"That's fine, I'm probably going to make some hot coco," You pulled yourself up, stretching up. "Powdered stuff ooor..?" Jack mimicked you. You only shook your head, earning a disapproving look from him. "What?" You questioned, but he only dismissed you. "Why don't you get some blankets, I'll handle it," and he turned on his heel to make his way to the kitchen. "Maybe put on a movie, too, your choice." He added as his voice carried off. "Are you saying I can't cook?" You called back, following after him. No answer as he tugged out a pot. "I'll have you know-" you started once more

"Do you have half and half?" He was already opening your pantry to grab things.

"No, I don't,"

"Heavy cream? Whipping cream? Whatever it's called..." He mumbled as he placed various ingredients on the counter. Cocoa powder, vanilla, salt and sugar. You only nodded, and as he was about to begin working he paused. "Do you want anything else in it? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" He paused and through gritted teeth, "Coffee?"

It was almost midnight, of course he would be opposed to you having caffeine so late.

"Cinnamon is fine," You watched him get to work. He measured everything out; even mixing the heavy cream with some milk to make a substitute for half and half.... was that really all it was? You weren't sure what you expected it to be, if it weren't..

He pulled his head up and stared at you. It was then that you noticed he had actually taken his mask off and set it at the end of the counter and out of the way. The black ooze dripping from his eyes was slow and posed little threat to dripping into your drink. He had a fistful of napkins on standby to dap his face dry should the flow quicken. "Aren't you going to get the blankets?"

You pat your hands on your thighs, pausing... watching him. His body had a warm glow on him from the old light bulb in the ceiling; it flickered every now and then. Under the yellowed light he almost looked healthy and alive, though there was no glint where his eyes should have been. His sharp nail tapping on the counter brought you back to the moment, blinking a few times. "Yeah.." you mumbled, defeated at the chance of making a drink for yourself stolen from you. But was that so bad?

You backed out of the kitchen, dragging your feet across the floor. Your apartment was.. a little on the smaller side so within a few steps you were in front of your bedroom door. You didn't really pay much attention to your surroundings as you shuffled through the blankets on the bed.. eventually you settled on just grabbing an arm full and waddling back to the living room, dumping everything you had grabbed onto the couch.

The house smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.. with a hint of vanilla.

Turning your gaze to the tv, your eyes scanned across the DVDs you had stacked messily. Nothing sounded good. "Is there anything you want specifically?" You called out as you settled yourself down criss cross in front of the tv and pulling all the cases onto the floor next to you. "Movie wise," You added as you pulled the first case into your hands. The DVD collection for Child's Play.. you had gotten it a few weeks ago, finding it on sale at your local store. You still hadn't popped it in to watch..

"I have.. Chucky, uhm..." You shuffled for the next case. "All the movies by the way.. I have that and.. most of the Friday the 13th movies," You called out. No answer, the only sound coming from the kitchen was the noise of a whisk gently being stirred. "I don't have Jason goes to hell... But!" You pulled out a third case with the Nightmare on Elm Street DVDs. "I DO have Freddy vs Jason," You mumbled and spread the three disks on the floor in front of you. Most of the disks you had, you noticed, were mostly older slasher movies. Still, Jack hadn't answered you. You pull yourself to your feet and trudge back into the kitchen. His back was to you, too preoccupied with the stove... He hadn't noticed you, not yet. An idea blossomed in your head, a smirk pulling itself across your lips. You steeled yourself, trying to force yourself to stop shivering.. Jack was always paying attention to his surroundings, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You take a step forward and he still doesn't notice your approach.

Another step.

And another.

Jack wasn't the tallest, in fact if you wanted to you could rest your chin on his shoulder... and that's what you ended up doing, while wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You could feel his body seize up just a little bit against you, before relaxing. "You didn't answer, what sounds good?" You pulled your eyes down to look at the pot. Your drink was nearly finished. You view rocked as your boyfriend shrugged, still silent but the twitching of his pointed ears let you know he was listening.

"Anything's fine," Another shrug as he cuts the heat. "You're the one cooking for me, you get to pick the movie," You insisted. He paused mid-whisk, letting out a soft huff. Suddenly he spun around, his face just a few inches from yours. In the dimmed light his eye sockets seemed deeper, it's black ooze lazily dripping down his cheeks. You noticed the smudges on his face, from wiping the streaks. You briefly wondered what it was like to sleep with them, but your thoughts were cut short as he pulled a blackened and clawed hand to your hair; tucking a lock behind your ear. "How does...." He paused, sucking in his teeth. He looked almost embarrassed. "Bride of Chucky sound?"

"What? Want to study the characters again so we can dress up again this year for Halloween?" You tease. You had convinced him a few months ago to dress up with you. With him as Chucky, and you as Tiffany... It had taken some begging and convincing but you ultimately got him to agree. Although you didn't go out to get candy, you were both fine with staying inside watching movies together in costume. It was also that night you got him to watch the movies..

His ears darkened, before he scoffed. "No... actually this year I was thinking of..." He took a long pause, visibly scraping his brain for names of characters, before seemingly giving up. "Look I don't watch many movies I don't know any.. characters.." He grimaced, before gently pushing you off of him so he could turn his attention back to the hot cocoa. "We've still got nine months, more than enough time to come up with something..." You shrugged, then smirked. "Not enough time to make a Glen... or Glenda," You teased before turning on your heel. You held back a snicker as you heard Jack splutter, finally processing what you had just said to him.

"W-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put in the disc, I'll leave it paused for you," You cut him off, still grinning to yourself as you kneeled down to do as you had said.

Soon enough Jack walked into the room with a mug, as well as a platter of cookies. "You didn't have to," You mumbled as you eyed the treats, but he only waved you off as he placed the plate and mug onto the coffee table. "You don't have to eat them, but I figured you might want a snack while watching the movie," He mumbled. You took the mug, and swirled the drink inside of it. "I hope I didn't put in too much cinnamon," Jack added as he watched you. He leaned over and started the movie.

You took a sip, smiling a little as the warmness crept in. "You did good, probably the best hot cocoa I've ever had." You offered a grin to him. "That has got to be the fakest compliment I've ever heard," Jack shot back, though you could see the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe this is the most decadent and satisfying beverage I've had ever been graced with in my life, and-" You began, only for Jack to hush you. "I'd rather you throw it on me, don't... say words like that again," He grumbled as readjusted himself into the couch. You took a sip and shrugged, "It's just absolutely immaculate," and he lightly smacked you on the arm. "I'm never making anything for you again," He snorted, before turning his attention to the movie.

You weren't going to lie, you felt a little bad treating yourself to the cookies, knowing Jack was unable to eat them without upsetting his stomach. Being a man-eating monster must really be hard. You purse your lips, and shoot a look at him from the corner of your eye. He must have been doing the same, because he turned his head to look at you. "Do you want to do something else?" He asked lightly, his grin from a few minutes ago already faded. "Do you ever miss eating.. food?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He didn't bother pausing the movie, instead he just fell silent and stared down, into the space between the two of you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a touchy subject for you," You mumbled and put the mug on the table. You sucked in the air between your teeth, flicking your eyes up to the movie, before bringing them back down to your lap. It stayed like that for a minute before Jack broke the silence. "I mean... yeah, I do. But at least I don't have to eat every day like you do, means I can have more time to do what I want," He said. Clearly, he was still bothered, tip-toeing around the big.. thing about him. The air was still tense and thick, all of the previous joking gone now. It was nearly unbearable. Nearly.

"You know," Jack began after a few more seconds of silence when you didn't reply. "I've never tried cinnamon in hot cocoa, I didn't know that was a thing people did," He was changing the subject. "You haven't?" You asked, raising a brow. He eyed your mug, but you both knew there was no way he was going to take a sip.

"It's really good," You mumbled, and took the drink, "The combo, I mean," You added. He hummed, patting his knees lightly. You swirled the drink again, watching the... what was it called? Those lighter swirls in the drink.. Did that have a name?

"You've had hot cocoa before, right?" You asked. He hummed again, nodding his head. "Well.. the cinnamon makes it warm. Taste wise.. It makes it.." You took a sip and thought for a minute. "Richer, I guess? It's hard to explain," You muttered, then looked back at him. You tore your eyes back down when you saw he was looking right at you, totally hooked onto your words. "I hear nutmeg goes good in it, too.. but I've only tried nutmeg and chocolate together in baked goods," You shrugged. "You did really good with this, you know... not too much cinnamon.. not spicy, at least." You smiled. He nodded, before turning back to the movie.

"Woody, I hear people describe cinnamon like that," He leaned back into the couch, a dull pop came from his back.

"Woody," You repeated, then took a large sip of the hot cocoa. You put the mug down onto the table, and leaned into your boyfriend as the warmth crept and settled into your bones. You weren't even paying attention to the movie, your mind was now occupied with how tired you were. Your eyes slipped up to the clock on the wall, It was nearly one in the morning. Had it only been an hour since Jack walked himself into the kitchen?

You lean deeper into Jack, not caring about his body's natural chill. His clothing still smelled a little like the cocoa from earlier.. "Gotta invest in some cologne, you smell nice like this," You mumbled into his arm. "The cinnamon?" He asked, not looking down at you. "No.. the cocoa, I mean cinnamon would be a nice touch... but you don't seem like a sweet smelling guy, do you?" You muttered. "Are you already getting tired?" Jack asked, and he leaned over you to grab the remote, pausing the movie. You muttered, the heat of the hot cocoa doing way more than you expected on the tiredness you didn't notice you had. "A little," You shrugged, "But we can still try to finish the movie," You offered, but he shook his head. Of course he would, as much of a hard ass or party pooper he came off as, he was going to make sure you were going to get your rest.

You put your hand in his, the one that had the remote.. you unpaused the movie. He paused it, and you unpaused it again. It kind of kept up like this before Jack conceited and kept it playing, although he did lower the volume.. The subtitles were already on, though. "I win," You smirked up at him, before crawling into his lap. You placed your head on his chest, pausing when you felt him stiffen before relaxing against you. His heart beat for a moment before settling to its barely there rhythm. For a minute you thought about asking about his heart, as far as you knew he explained himself like he was becoming a walking corpse... how does that work?

You decided against it, you already asked about him earlier.. and besides, your mind was already beginning to blank as Jack reached to the side of the couch, and turned the lamp off.. It was dark now. It was still raining, you could more clearly hear the drops outside now that the movie was turned down. Plus, Jack was running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. It wouldn't be long until you finally gave in and fell asleep.

"Are you going to still be here in the morning?" You asked, melting into his chest as he hummed in response. "Plan on it, I still need to clean up the kitchen," He added as he curled your hair around his hand. "It'll still be cold in the morning," He added, "I need to make sure you bundle up before you go out for work," He added. "I'm not that dumb," You muttered and lightly slapped his arm. You swear, if he still had his eyes he would have rolled them.

"How do you see? I know you're not.. a normal person, but," You blurted out, lifting your head. He pushed your face back down, shushing you. "Sleep," He ordered, before loosening his hold on you a bit so you could get comfortable. It wasn't an order but it may as well have been with how your body started to loosen into him within the next few minutes, quickly snuffling out your curiosity and questions.

He'd still be here in the morning, you could pester him then. After all, it's what he signed up for when the two of you started to date one another..

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 thank you all 💖💖💖

haven't written much over the last few days bc all i do is work and watch oth - but getting back to it bc my one and only writing goal for this month is to finish and post the married buddie smut and I will do it 😂 (hopefully lol) so here's a tiny little snippet just to motivate myself 😂 - they're obsessed with being husbands and this is all the fic is about 😂

prev snippet

___

One of Buck’s hand’s settles in Eddie’s hair, and follows as Eddie goes lower, leaving kisses down Buck’s body until he gets to his groin. Then, he smirks and looks up at Buck’s pretty face, catching him already looking down at him. “I love you.” he whispers, then leaves a soft little kiss on Buck’s hip bone.

“I love you, husband.” Buck responds, cupping Eddie’s cheek, the last word impossible to say without a smile forcing itself onto Buck’s face. Eddie knows the feeling. Him and Buck being married still seems like a dream, like something he’s wanted for so long, it’s surreal to think it came true. It makes him want to scream it at the top of his lungs. Buck is his husband. Buck is a Diaz. Buck is his. He is Buck’s. They’re bound together, till death to them part, and hopefully longer. Their very souls belong to each other, and Eddie doesn’t think he could be any happier.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @weewootruck @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @honestlydarkprincess @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @giddyupbuck

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Nessian Week | Day Five | Behind Closed Doors

Read on AO3 or below

@nessianweek

Summary: Sometimes a Valkyrie and a General need some TLC <3

AN: This was so cute to write! It was my first fic I wrote for Nessian week <3 Enjoy this fluff!! Banner made by me via Canva.

CW: Slight sexual content (consensual)

Snippet:

A small gasp echoed across the room as Nesta’s eyes filled with stars. Flipping back to the front cover she immediately started reading the novel. The premise was everything Nesta loved. A slew of tropes including enemies to lovers, a princess and a rebel leader, forced proximity, and one bed. The sheet laid on her face comfortably.

She was nearing fifteen pages in when the powder room door opened, Cassian standing in the doorway.

“I feel stupid.” He mumbled, a similar looking sheet mask on his own face. It barely fit his entire face as he settled down next to Nesta. She shifted looking up at him.

“Self-care isn’t stupid.” 

“But I look ridiculous right?” Cassian asked.

A nearby clock chimed as the hands rested at the twelve. The music swirled with bells and strings letting the residents of the House of Wind know that midnight was here. Nesta Archeron emerged from the powder room, wearing one of Cassian’s shirts that easily reached her knees. A gentle whimper sang from her lips as she settled into bed. Her hair was down, reaching her lower back now. It needed a trim, but that could wait. On her face rested a sheet mask, a gift that Bryce Quinlan delivered to her for her birthday that spring.

“My mom says happy birthday, and that even the toughest of warriors deserve some ‘treat-yourself’ days. Everything in here can last for a while, and no there aren’t any mind controlling parasites lurking in there. Checked everything myself.”

Nesta gave her a deadpan look before accepting the gift. It was a red box that weighed like nothing. She stared at the woman as the golden portals between their worlds glowed. Opening the box, Nesta saw the most unusual items. Her head tilted in confusion, holding up a few cold colorful packets.

“Those are sheet masks. We didn’t know what type of ones to get you, so we got you literally everyone we could think of. I wrote the instructions in your language as best I could, but it’s all easy steps. Clean your face, leave it on for fifteen minutes, then rub everything into your skin.”

The coldness of the sheet took some getting used too, but Nesta grew to love them.

The day was long as her feet ached from the week-long mission she just got back from. Nesta and the fellow Valkyries were sent to help the outskirts of Hybern where small villages were still recovering from the war. They managed to help three villages get back on their feet, providing resources from the solar courts of Prythian. The leaders of the courts met and discussed what to provide to the fae folk in need in the months leading up to the mission.

While it was primarily a peaceful mission, Nesta ended up in several small battles with some rebellious group. As the country didn’t have a ruler anymore and no heirs to take the throne, these groups weren’t too uncommon in the land. Granted most of the individuals in the group were not military trained, making things easier for Nesta and her friends to deal with, but this was only the beginning. There would be more to come.

But all of that could wait, as the House lit a fire, silencing the cracks followed by dropping a romance onto Nesta’s head.

She winced, rubbing the spot. “Ow! Watch it.”

The House made a nearby rug ripple as if it was laughing. Nesta playfully rolled her eyes before looking at the recommendation. The cover had the classic couple, standing in such a romantic pose with yearning that should have made Nesta sick, but it made her giggle and kick her feet. Flipping to the back she read over the synopsis. 

A small gasp echoed across the room as Nesta’s eyes filled with stars. Flipping back to the front cover she immediately started reading the novel. The premise was everything Nesta loved. A slew of tropes including enemies to lovers, a princess and a rebel leader, forced proximity, and one bed. The sheet laid on her face comfortably.

She was nearing fifteen pages in when the powder room door opened, Cassian standing in the doorway.

“I feel stupid.” He mumbled, a similar looking sheet mask on his own face. It barely fit his entire face as he settled down next to Nesta. She shifted looking up at him.

“Self-care isn’t stupid.” 

“But I look ridiculous right?” Cassian asked.

Nesta bit her cheek, attempting to hide the smile that was about to appear.

“Great now you’re laughing at me.”

A giggle slipped from her before Nesta placed a hand gently on her mouth. However, her shoulders shook silently. 

“I..I’m not laughing!”

Cassian stared at her with a deadpan expression. “And I don’t have wings.” The sarcasm was strong through his words.

His complaint only made her break into a huge smile. Swiftly however, Cassian swiped both of the sheets off their faces before dumping them in the nearby waste bin.

“I wasn’t done!” Nesta exclaimed, placing her book down.

“Don’t care.” Cassian joked before pulling Nesta into his arms.

Immediately her body rested against his. The hands she grew to love over the last five years traced patterns into her back. She sighed gently, resting her face in the crook of Cassian’s neck. He kissed her head gently. Their heartbeats drummed in unionsion, a golden string curled between them.

Reaching over Cassian grabbed the book Nesta was just reading. He flipped it over, reading the back.

He hummed. “All of your favorites, Nes. I swear the House spoils you more than me.” 

Nesta shrugged. “It missed me. I was gone for a whole week.”

“I missed you more.” Cassian growled. “ I can’t stand being away from you, Wife.”

The pet name that made Nesta’s toes curl as she leaned over Cassian. Wife was always something near to her soul, a small grasp of the humanity that still lived in her. Cassian was the one to suggest it, after mate wasn’t giving her the same response. However, she usually referred to him as her mate. Their worlds collided in the devoting exchange.

Gently she took the book from Casian’s grasp before placing it onto her night stand. A smirk toying on her lips.

“Care to share how much you missed me, Mate?

Their kisses made Nesta’s soul light as his hands caressed her body all over. When the two made love, they became the instrument and the artist. Playing each other to the perfect rhythm, creating a soft spoken melody that sung between the two of them. Time wouldn’t exist for them as their love was a religious experience. They kissed prayers of desires on skin, knees were matched in kneeling pink. Golden light plucked between them, reaching their holy moment.

When they were spent, Nesta laid on her belly, her body aching in all the right ways. Cool to the touch, she whimpered. Cassian mumbled an apology before he continued cleaning her off. He quickly threw the wet cloth in the nearby hamper. Gently he laid back down, pulling her close to his chest, kissing her freckled shoulders.

They mumbled their ‘I love you’s’ all the while the doors to their balcony remained closed, keeping the summer nights away.

[blackoutspoetry]

An Unmarked Night in Urzikstan (ghoap)🪐

note - this is a snippet from a longer fic I'm writing for posting on ao3, the first few chapters are on ao3 here

(I also suggest you listen to Give by Sleep Token while reading this)

Background:

This is part of a fix it fic that takes place during the Moder Warfare III campaign. Still on the hunt for Makarov, Soap and Ghost are accidently stranded in Urzikstan and Farah arranges them a place to stay for the night. But after having a terrifying close brush with death, Ghost struggles to grapple with the idea he almost lost Soap forever. Soap tries to make it up to him.

WARNINGS: no smut, but mature themes including talk of death and violence ahead.

"You know, there was a moment there that I was scared I missed him and hit you instead,” Simon confesses, his own soup is finished but he grips the bowl hard, like he’s trying to project all the nervousness into the porcelain instead of letting his voice shake. It's scary, really, how worried he sounds. 

“You were lying there with his body over you, and I couldn’t tell if it was your blood pooling on the ground or his. I waited for you to talk to me for almost a minute before you said you were fine. And a minute doesn’t seem like a lot, but it's enough to get you thinking and I–” he took a breath to steady himself. 

“You were alright this time, but I’m worried that one day, I won’t be there to take that shot. Like last year in Las Almas or today, I just won’t be around and he’ll get to you first. Or worse, I– I am there and I’m too compromised by the stress, it messes with my head and I kill you myself because I was too worried about the immediate threat that I didn’t aim properly.” 

Johnny watches him for a moment in silence, biting the inside of his cheek. If they weren’t in the field, he’d have kissed him right there to silence the worry. But he sits and watches, trying to think of an appropriate way to act now. He can feel the heat of that fire close to his skin. 

“I won’t be able to live with myself if I get you killed, Johnny… it would ruin me.” 

Screw professionalism, the fact that they were in the field together, that this would be an inappropriate thing to do under the circumstances, Johnny reached for Simon’s trembling hands, squeezing them softly for reassurance. 

“I’m still right here, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

It didn’t do much to ease the shaking of his hands, so Johnny stripped off his gloves, running a careful thumb over the skeleton pattern on the back before tugging at each of the fingers and sliding them off his hands, revealing those skilled hands beneath them in all their pale glory.

He raised one to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss against the pulse point of his wrist, right at the edge of that tattoo. One shameless step forward, closer to that fire so that the heat might begin to burn him, and he’d be fine with it, as long as Simon was on the same page as him. 

He could feel the other man’s pulse quicken under his hold as he moved to kiss the palm of his trembling hand. 

Johnny looks to find him, frozen in that position and he cups his other hand around Simon’s jaw, a pressing reassurance that he was breathing, still here. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, love. I’ll be alright, you’ll see.” 

Shamelessly, another can of fuel tipped onto the fire and they’re sitting in the smoke, getting high on the fumes. It's too much to resist now. They’ve held off the inevitable far longer than they wanted to. 

The kiss is a consolation for all that affection, unsaid and unseen  in the thick of the gunfire. It tries to make up for everything they’ve missed. Johnny cups his jaw between both hands, pulling him closer, almost bruising in its languid movement. 

He feels hot tears streak against his hands, tasting salt in the kiss before he feels Simon pull away, failing to stifle a small sob. Johnny wants to look at him, but Simon dips his head against his shoulder, clutching him tightly. 

“I can’t lose you, Johnny, I don’t have anything else, I can’t–” 

“You’re not going to lose me, I’m going to be fine, we’re going to be fine. We’re gonna get out of here tomorrow and return to base, we’re going to do whatever it takes to get Makarov, and we’re going to live.” 

“I saw it today for a moment there, I lost you for thirty fucking seconds and it felt like I was going to die with you.” 

“I’m here now.” 

“You almost weren’t,” he tugs the mask off, finding it more a nuisance than a comfort, and what Johnny sees steals his breath away.

Simon’s hair is mussed up beneath it, tousled strands falling over his forehead and his eyes look wild and distressed, accentuated more by the remnants of eye black that he couldn’t quite scrub away, eyes glistening where his tears collected around the edges of his eyes. 

“Simon,” Johnny said softly, hand finding Simon’s shoulder. It does the trick because Johnny rarely uses his name. 

Simon's eyes turned back from where they were fixated on the ground, letting the tears slide when he found Johnny’s face, smiling a little despite it all. 

He put Simon’s hand over the beating of his heart, just to accentuate the fact that he was still alive, that they were alright. 

Simon fixated on the hand pressed into Johnny’s chest. 

“You’re here…” Simon says brokenly. 

“I am,” Johnny agrees. The hand on his chest pulled into a fist in the fabric of his shirt. 

With a resigned sigh, Simon pressed their foreheads together and Johnny’s hand found its way into Simon’s hair. 

“Come hell or high water, I’ve got you and I’m not leaving you,” he tries to reassure Simon, but they both know he can’t promise anything. They both know that even if Johnny promises not to leave, to walk away from him, they can’t control gunfire and fate. 

He thinks in this case, that the thought isn’t enough to count. 

“I love you, Simon.” 

He feels Simon stiffen in his arms. It was the first time he’d said it and the words had left his mouth unbidden, but it was the truth. He’s never been more sure of anything. 

“Don’t just say that.” 

“I mean it.” 

“You don’t. You can’t.” 

Defiantly, Johnny pulled out of his hold and looked him dead in the eye, sure as ever, voice unwavering as he placed his hands on those broad, solid shoulders. 

“I meant it when I said it. I love you, Simon Riley, and I will not leave you to face the world alone. We’re in this together. We’re a team. We’re more than that.” 

“Please, Johnny, you don’t know what you’re saying.” 

There’s something unsaid, crammed into the thick silence. You don’t know what you’re doing to me. 

Johnny finds more fuel and tips it generously into the licking flames, feeling the heat lurch up, swallow him into the inferno. 

“I’ve loved you for the better part of five years, Simon. I loved you long before I realised it. I loved you before Las Almas and I loved you when you cried into my shoulder about your father, I loved you when I watched you take that mask off for the first time, and I loved you when you kissed me at Gaz's engagement party.” 

He knows he’s laying it on thick, but he needs to drive the point home. He’s never been good with words, but he needs Simon to know this. Even if they can’t turn back from here. 

It looks as though Simon wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to put it into words. 

Johnny is taken by surprise when Simon kisses him, hard. Their teeth clack together and everything about it feels broken and desperate, like they’re trying to lay claim on each other, needing to remind each other they’re here, and real. It's that kind of struggle with object permanence that he must fight with every day, because the second they leave each other’s sight, they’re fair game to be ravaged by the world. All they have is here, and now. 

“Johnny, this is a bad idea,” Simon says between kisses, hushed abruptly by Johnny’s desperate mouth again, another kiss skewly planted to the corner of his lips. He makes no move to slow the pace as his hands dig in under Johnny’s shirt, large, warm palms pressing into Johnny’s skin. He doesn’t try to stop. 

They’re gaining too much momentum.

“No one has to know what happened here.” 

Another kiss. 

“I will know.” 

His body acted in the opposite direction, pushing Johnny back against the armrest of the couch behind him, Johnny pulled him closer, but he hovered a few centimetres away. 

“You know how I feel about mixing work with– this.”   

“I know. But we’ve got time to kill anyway, and you know how to keep secrets, what’s one more?”

“It's a matter of decorum, it's not right.”

Johnny barely contains the eye roll. “I just wish for one moment you’d start thinking about what you want instead of what they want from you. You told me not to let the system make me its bitch, so take your own advice and start thinking for yourself.” 

Simon looked genuinely surprised for a moment. “You remember that?” 

“Course I remembered it,” Johnny says as if it should have been obvious. “Fucking clung to it like scripture.” 

Simon chuckled lowly, cause for another kiss, his hands steadied himself against the armrest. 

Johnny reached for the hem of his shirt but stilled halfway as he frowned up at Simon. 

“I don’t want to do this here.” 

Less than two minutes later saw them taking the obvious next move from there on. Though neither of them mentioned it when they moved into the room, Johnny could tell Simon’s mind had also drifted back to their earlier conversation when Johnny kissed him senseless and pushed him back onto the bed that they decided they were not sharing under any circumstances. 

He comes to sit between Simon’s legs on the mattress, feeling the old thing dip from their combined weight. 

Contrary to his earlier belief, It was a terribly small bed, he notices with a bit of disappointment, and he’s half afraid it will give in halfway through the night, what with their combined weight, bulked up from years of building muscle. 

It makes him a bit shy, if he’s being honest. 

He pushes that down though, ignores it for the more important concern weighing on his mind.

Johnny carded a hand through the man's honey blonde hair. Those soft brown eyes tracked his movements meticulously.

Simon's eyes betrayed his true nature, always. So tender and soft behind that mask, that he had to hide his face to obscure it.

Simon was by nature, a sweetheart forced to wield a gun and told he was born to fire it. But Johnny knows, he knows that they are fundamentally different.

Simon was bred into what he is today, and Johnny chose this job because there was darkness, a demon clawing out of him.

He'd carried a darkness since the day he was born, gentleness was something he'd had to learn. But Simon...

Simon used to be a soft child without an inch of violence in him. He'd gotten the cruelty beaten into him. All that love that once overflowed from him, as a child, as a toddler, as that boy with that wonderfully wide smile, was kicked out of him.

He became Ghost to survive, but Johnny found Simon in there.

"What do you want from me?"

Simon shuddered when he trailed a hand up his chest, feeling the supple ripple of muscle under his palm.

He eventually finds the words, however difficult it sounds to say.

"Just don't be afraid of me, treat me like a real man."

A real man, a civilian.

"Just touch me softly, Johnny?"

Johnny took the other man's unmasked face between his hands and kissed his forehead softly. He feels the tension in his brow subside, Simon’s hands coming up to cup Johnny’s warm palms. 

"I'll be gentle with you, Simon."

He loves him. 

He's cultivated the admiration, that attraction for his superior officer into something far more dangerous. He doesn't know how else it's supposed to go, because it felt impossible not to fall in love with him when he let his guard down.

Johnny swears he can see tears welling up in Simon's eyes.

"You are loved, Simon," Johnny kisses along his cheek, pressing soft affection into the little scars decorating his skin.

"You deserve to know that."

Without preamble, Simon pulled him closer and tugged the shirt over his head, discarding it elsewhere, out of sight.

It doesn't matter.

"Eager, are we?" Johnny jokes.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Sitting half dressed in Simon's lap, Johnny stilled as the man's hands trailed up and down his chest, squeezing softly, like he's afraid Johnny might break if he's not careful enough.

Simon's hand stills over Johnny's heartbeat and he brings his own hand to hold it in place, feeling the blessed warm skin against the rhythm of his racing heart.

"You sure about this, Johnny?"

Simon runs his hand over the cross pendant sitting in the dip of Johnny's chest. The metal is warm to the touch. He smooths the twisted chain against warm skin.

"Certain, Lt."

[copperbadge]

Mr. Badge! Mr. Badge! Life hard, but Caleb and Buck are cute, can I ask for maybe a small snippet (if you have one easily avaliable, if not no worries) of fic for that good positive brain chemistry?

Yours sincerely, lostchips

Well, I don't have anything from Royals/Ramblers that's easily shareable, but Buck and Caleb do pop up in the football novel (I'm thinking of calling it Paolo's First Eleven but I already did one novel with a number in the title....)

Context: Paolo, the POV character, is a former top footballer turned youth coach, who happens to have befriended Buck and through Buck, Caleb. One of his young players, Vev, is in his early teens, so gifted that it's extremely obvious he'll be an elite player someday, and also trans, which Paolo knows is going to be an issue for his career sooner or later. Our scene is set just before morning practice begins...

To his surprise, the pair of men in the stands turned out to be Buck and Caleb -- Buck in a pair of ripped jeans and a leather jacket over a worn band t-shirt, Caleb swaddled in a hoodie with an instrument case on his back. When he came out of the tunnel, Buck waved and both of them got up to come down to the pitch. 

"Morning," Paolo said, offering them the bag of protein bars he was carrying to hand out to any hungry-looking kids. Buck waved it off, but Caleb peered into it and then took one. "Here to write me a fight song?"

Buck grinned. "Working on it. No, I'm just chaperone really, this is Caleb's joint."

Paolo looked at Caleb, curious. The younger man smiled. 

"I heard about Vev," he said. "Came to see him, see how he was getting on." 

"Oh! That's -- very thoughtful," Paolo said, as the kids on the pitch began to slowly drift towards the adults. A few stayed out; Vev, bouncing a ball from foot to foot, was one of them. "VEV, YOU TOO!" Paolo yelled. Vev looked up, caught the ball off a knee, and came running over. When he saw the pair of men with Paolo, he stopped, eyes huge, then sidled forward shyly, half-hiding behind Paolo. 

"Eat," Paolo told him, pressing a protein bar into his hand. Vev held it loosely, still watching the other two. "Vev, this is Buck Haverd and Caleb Canto, they're mates of mine."

Vev nodded. "You won Eurovision," he blurted. 

"Well, he did," Caleb said, jerking a thumb at Buck. The other children were crowding in, equally awed and impressed. 

"But you should have," Vev said, apparently forgetting to be shy as he crept out from behind Paolo. Buck began to laugh, loud and enthusiastic; he shook a finger at Caleb.

"Every time," he said, through chuckles. "Every time, someone in this damn country tells us both you should have won. Come on, you lot, let's have a kick-around," he added to the other kids, shedding his leather jacket and walking onto the pitch, most of the students following like ducklings. Paolo lingered, just in case Vev took shy again. 

"Well, whether I should have or not, Buck did," Caleb said gently. "But I'll gladly brag about being second-place." 

"I liked your song," Vev said. 

"Thank you. I wrote it about children like you," Caleb said. Vev blinked at him. "Daring princelings. I heard from Paolo that you're a star player."

"Don't let it go to your head," Paolo said, ruffling Vev's short hair. 

"So I thought I'd come along and meet the newest tavat," Caleb said, using the Shivadh word for prince that his song had popularized. "You know I'm trans like you are."

Vev nodded, digesting this.

"Well, we have to stick together, don't we? Look out for each other," Caleb said. "So I thought I'd introduce myself. That way you have a grownup who's like you, if you need one." 

Paolo swallowed, watching Vev's face go from thoughtful to pleased. 

"So if you have questions, or some kind of problem you need help with, you know you can always talk to Coach Paolo," Caleb said. "But maybe you could talk to me too, if you want." 

He offered Vev a little slip of card-paper; business cards, real paper ones, were in vogue in Fons-Askaz at the moment, and Vev took it like a treasure. Peering over his shoulder, Paolo could see it read 

CALEB CANTO  MUSIC AND VOICE INSTRUCTOR PRODUCER - REVERB STUDIOS HE / HIM 

An email address and a phone number were printed in one corner; the address of the Maritime Academy was printed in the other.

"Come by the school any time, or text me and I'll come visit you here," Caleb said. "Give it to your parents if you want so they can get in touch, too." 

Vev nodded. Paolo elbowed him and he looked up. 

"Say thanks," Paolo whispered. 

"Thank you, Mr. Canto," Vev said. 

"Caleb is fine." Caleb gave him a smile. "Now, you'd better go show Buck your best moves." 

Vev looked down at the prized business card. "Can you keep it for me?" he asked Paolo, who nodded and took the card, tucking it carefully in the little plastic pocket that held his ID. Vev turned back to Caleb and visibly squared his shoulders. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Caleb said, and Vev fled back to the field, where he almost immediately stole the ball from Buck and outran him despite being about a third of his size. 

[moonselune]

So I'm writing a longfic and throughout it Minthy adopts a half-drow kid, but I wanted to see the idea as a stand-alone snippet written in your marvelous style, if you're up to it <3

Okay I'm going down the road of accidental child acquisition and for some reason or another she has this half drow kid with her when she is trying to take over Menzoberranzen. I see her plotting in a tavern pre her return, and she just has this kid with her who is trying to show off their latest trick.

Minthara sat at a weathered wooden table in a dimly lit tavern, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on her intricate maps. Her sharp eyes scanned the lines and markings, plotting her next move to reclaim Menzoberranzen. Beside her, a half-drow child fidgeted restlessly, trying to capture her attention.

"Minthy, look! One hand!" the child exclaimed, balancing precariously on a table with one hand.

"It's Minthara, not Minthy, and I am trying to—oh, by the gods, get down from there, now." Minthara snapped, glancing up from her maps. The child wobbled, their hand trembling under the strain.

"Shut up, child eater."

"Sun scum."

"Spider kisser."

"Mongrel."

"Murk—Ow!" The child's arm finally gave way, and they tumbled off the table, landing in a heap on the floor with a crash.

Minthara sighed, a small smile playing on her lips as she smoothed out her maps. "I told you to get down from there," she chided, though her eyes softened as she glanced at the child. Seeing the devious grin forming on their face, she knew they were uninjured. She then stood up abruptly, thwarting the child's plan to kick the chair from under her.

"No fair…" the child grumbled, brushing themselves off.

"Then be better," Minthara retorted as she retrieved the chair that had been unceremoniously kicked across the room.

"Then be better," the child mocked, quickly ducking to avoid the small book Minthara tossed at them. They settled on a nearby chair, drawing their legs up to their chest and huffing. "I'm bored!"

"Then make yourself useful and come plot with me," Minthara said, her tone softening slightly.

"Really?" The child's eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off the chair to join her at the table. They peered over the edge, trying to make sense of the intricate plans sprawled across the surface.

"Yes, really," Minthara replied, pulling them closer. "Look here," she pointed to a marked section on the map. "This is where we'll stage our ambush. What do you think we should do to catch them off guard?"

The child's brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the map. "Maybe we can hide in the shadows here," they suggested, pointing to a narrow alleyway.

"That's a good idea. We'll use that to our advantage." Minthara nodded, a proud smile tugging at her lips. She patted the child's head, affectionately, she then motioned for them to grab a chair and sit next to her.

Throughout the night they plotted and schemed, Minthara passing on all that she knew to her new prodigy. She made a mental note to start introducing them to poisons and toxins next, build up their immunity. As the moon peaked in the sky, Minthara was drawn from her thoughts by a light snore, the child had sworn that they were simply resting their head on her shoulder so they could get to see everything from her perspective. She should have known from their ceased chattering that followed soon that you had fallen asleep.

Sighing Minthara picked the child up, being careful not to stir them from their slumber. She had never thought herself particularly maternal, well at least not in the conventional sense, she knew she would be an excellent drow mother. Perhaps she could come to a compromise for this child.

Oh my god I had to stop myself from writing a full fic this was so much fun and I hope you like it - Seluney xox

[philosophiums]

hi sam!! 1, 2, 6, 8, 12, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30, 42, 43, 44, 45, 47, 50, 51, 55, 57, 66 (lmhs), 71, 72, 76, 78, 79 😊 i just love picking another writer's brain hehe

KSJDBVJKDFBV MARIAM IM CRYING HELP 😂 *cracks knuckles* okay let's gooooo 💜 (there's gonna be a read more somewhere)

questions from here!

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Truly depends on the length of the wip! For short stuff that I'm confident will be under 10k, I just go in swinging. For longer stuff, I'm daydreaming constantly, even during the writing process. When I had a desk job, I would spend Work Time thinking and then write stuff out in my notes app, but now that I operate a moving vehicle for 7+ hours a day, I just spend the majority of that time Daydreaming, Thinking, and Planning for LMHS.

2. Where do you get your fic ideas?

It's about a 60/40 split between original thoughts (as much as anyone can claim to truly have original creative thoughts that are 100% not inspired by anything else) and ideas that are based on or inspired by the premises of other fics or by fanart (sometimes not even from the same fandom).

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

From LMHS, last line of chapter 3: "Sun shining on their backs, sweet snacks in their stomachs, and laughter in the air, the three of them take off together, venturing once again deeper into Changyin’s busy streets."

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Not written out yet so I can't post a snippet, but in LMHS, water is so important to Megumi's character, way beyond just bending.

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Sometimes! I did outline LMHS, though that was mostly an attempt on my part at keeping track of all the thoughts @hinamie and I were throwing at each other. It's not very detailed at all, just a bullet point list of things like "they travel to [location] - remember that [this character] is with them" or stuff like that. It's a guide for the like... movement™ of the fic, but less so the nitty gritty details, which I kind of enjoy discovering as I go (be it while I'm writing or while Hina and I are talking). But the last long fic I wrote (250k) did not have an outline. I just followed my heart and the vision I had of the end of the fic <3 The back half of that fic did have a canon timeline to follow, though, which made it easier.

14. What is your favorite location and position to write in?

SJKDBJKSDB I do about 95% of my writing in a big leather wingback armchair in my living room, usually with one leg hooked over an arm of the chair. The other 5% is bleary-eyed, 2am in bed, notes app, half-finished sentences with just the worst spelling you've ever seen.

15. What’s your favorite time to write?

It used to be between 1am and 3am, back when I was unemployed/working a job I didn't have to properly sleep for. Now, the only time I seem to be able to write is from about 8:30pm to 11pm. It takes me forever to unwind after coming home, so I can really only get myself to focus way at the end of the day. 100% if I went back to a desk job or stumbled into a pile of money that could let me stop working, I'd be right back to typing away well after midnight.

17. Do you have a writing routine?

Sit down > open word doc > reread last paragraph > dissociate > walk away > come back three hours later and write SKJDVBDKJBVJKDFBV

18. Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

I don't necessarily enjoy it, mostly because when I'm researching, I tend to get pulled down a rabbit hole of stuff I don't need to know and will never use. However, I do find that I end up doing impromptu "shotgun" research a lot while writing. Literally while writing the first chapter of LMHS, I had to pull up some research on trees just to make absolutely sure I was describing something correctly. It's 100% an inconsequential detail, but at least I know I wasn't pulling it completely out of thin air KSJVDBDKJVB I don't think I could honestly say which fic required the most research. If we include the amount of time I spent on the respective fandom wikis for character/canon details, then Swallow the Stars for sure. But if it's only for Other Stuff™, then I think they're all about equal.

19. Do you enjoy creating OCs or do you prefer to stick solely to canon characters?

I love making OCs in general, but not really for fanfic. I'll make an OC for an inconsequential side character no problem (did this a couple times in Swallow the Stars), but, for the most part, I prefer to stick to canon characters. I've never written a fic from the POV of an OC, and I doubt I ever will. I would much rather explore the dynamics between canon characters than insert a new main character into a story that already has one.

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

Depends! I've done all three before SKJDVBDKJVBF Sometimes, a title comes to me right away, and I can sort of circle around it while I'm writing (this is more common for me with short fics). Sometimes, I get a few thousands words in, and have played with the themes long enough to have it just sort of come to me. Other times, I'm fully edited and just staring at the words begging a title to appear so I can post KSJDVBDKJFVBDFV LMHS had a title before I even started writing, because I wanted to have a title when I posted the fic announcement. As far as how I come up with them, I've pulled directly from words in the fic, I've gone on random quote generators and pulled from those, I've sat down and literally just strung words together based on a theme or a single specific word I wanted (LMHS, for instance, came from a desire to use the word "haunt"). It just kinda depends and is different for every fic!

23. Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

The beginning is easiest because it's fun character introductions and scene setting, not a lot of plot yet. The middle is by far the hardest because that's where the plot is beefiest and where a lot of the transition spaces are, and at the same time you're starting to gather up the threads you want to tie off at the end.

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

I choose based on whose thoughts I'm imagining most when I'm first thinking of the story! When I'm new to writing for a fandom, I will sometimes have to start a fic 2 or 3 times to find the voice that comes easiest to me, though. I have a tendency to lean towards the quieter characters, but that's not always true! For example, Andrew Minyard's POV is easier for me to write in, but I have more fun writing Neil, so I tend to gravitate towards Neil for AFTG fics.

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

World building my beloved..... I love coming up with Reasons for things that I want to happen, tying things into the setting and the history and making sure it works for the characters as well. The moment when everything connects is so magical.

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

Writing KJDBKJDFBVJKDBFV Words are just.... so hard 😭

28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

Detailing! Descriptions! I am constantly fighting with myself over how much detail I actually need to include in my descriptions, because on some level, I want to describe it as much as I possibly can so that it can be envisioned easier, but on the flip side I know for a fact that no matter how much I describe something, no one will ever see it exactly the same way I do. And so then I pull back too far, I think, and keep my descriptions bare minimum, which I think is just as unhelpful. I need to work on finding a balance. Maybe metaphor can be my friend here.....

30. How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

I usually go through for edits a minimum of two times and a maximum of 4 times. I always do an initial read-through for details that I missed or clarifications I need to make or continuity problems, stuff like that. Then I'll go through for grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, etc. If I end up rewriting a lot during that second edit, I'll go back through yet again just to double-check everything. And, more often than not, I do a last read-through right before I post. Though, inevitably, there's always something that I don't catch until it's already posted KJSBDVKDJBV

42. What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

I'm really quite keen on Like the Moon Haunts the Sun !! It's longer than what I usually go for with titles, but it's sooooo thematically fitting and just really really pretty imo. But, This Is What Hollows holds a special place in my heart because it's a bit different and yet perfectly fitting for that fic. Plus, it was titled loooong before I came up with a way to include it in the actual writing of the fic, and I felt like an absolute genius when I managed to do that organically.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

I have a world mostly built for a fantasy setting with dragon gods and stuff that I've planned out all the lore for and yet cannot for the life of me actually think up a plot that would be interesting to write SKJVBDJKVB I have characters, I have setting, I have themes, but a plot? Evading me. And it's been haunting me for like 7 years.

44. What is your favorite genre to write?

Urban fantasy 100%!! I love writing magic systems without having to do historical research SKJBDVKJDVB Also just the idea of magic in a place that we live in is so special to me like... there is magic everywhere in the world, but sometimes that magic really does come from a spell book like Yes Please.

45. What genre/trope do you tend to write the most?

Found family trope my beloved,,,,,,,, don't look too closely at it; it doesn't say anything about me as a person I Promise.

47. Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of?

Not a trope, but when I was younger and Working Through Some Shit, I included a, I guess, circumstance™ that I will not actually say (bc it's like. triggering) in just about every fic I wrote, but I'm past the point now (thank god) of needing to vent through it, so I truly don't think I'll ever include it in anything ever again.

50. How would you describe your writing style?

HHHHHHH I have no idea. I think I am incapable of looking at my writing objectively enough to describe it.

51. Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

Very much so! I love reading prose that is rich in metaphor and simile, but for the life of me I can't write like that. I don't have the gift of constantly being able to turn a phrase so beautifully, but god is it gorgeous to read.

55. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

I don't even want to think about the words and phrases I overuse because I'm sure there's plenty JSKDBVKJDFVB I do have a recurring theme of like... healing, though. This deep inner struggle of the characters to get to a better place is just... so important to me. I want them to heal, but more than that I want them to want to heal.

57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

I'm certainly conscious of it, but less so on the first draft. I think foreshadowing has a way of sneaking into my writing naturally (especially because I write chronologically), and then I can really hammer it in during the edit. Symbolism is purely being brought in during the first edit unless it's something so important that it was underlined a lot during the drafting/planning stage.

66. What’s a fun fact about LMHS?

It started as me just randomly thinking about ATLA and sending a question to Hina about what she thought the main trio's bending elements would be, and it just tumbled out of control from there SKJDVBDJKVFB

71. Do you spend more time reading or writing?

Writing, which is... saying something because I really don't spend a lot of time writing on a day-to-day basis. But I haven't read a published book in.... 4 years? And I don't read fanfic very often either, despite my bookmarks tab being overflowing with fics that I would like to read at some point. I just feel like I never have the time or energy to sit down and read.

72. What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

I have gotten a similar comment from multiple people that is about my characterization of canon characters within AUs and how it still feels like the canon characters but with realistic changes based on a different setting, and in fic writing I can't think of higher praise. Like... that's exactly what I want. I don't want the characters to be exactly the same as canon because their circumstances have changed, but I still want them to be recognizable. That's always what I'm striving for, and it makes me happy that people notice and think it's executed well enough to comment on.

76. How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

Poorly KDEJVBKJDEFVBJKDFVBJF Really though, I struggle managing pressure when I'm writing. And it's always internal, because external pressure on fics just makes me petty since it's Free Labor, and people who complain about a slow upload schedule or whatever just make me Mad. But internal pressure is HHHHHHHHHH I am Going Through It with LMHS. I want it to live up to expectations, but I also want to finish it quickly, but I also want it to be lush and complete, and there's always this voice in my head telling me I'm not writing fast enough or good enough. Mostly I work past it by reminding myself that the time will pass anyway and that it's a miracle that I can even write ~1k words a day with how tired my job makes me. And on the days when that doesn't work, I have loud music KSJDVBDKJVBJDKFV

78. What motivates you during the writing process?

Up to the point where I start posting (for my last long fic, I was >100k in before I uploaded the first chapter), the motivation comes from a simple desire to write that particular story. For me, it can't come from anywhere else. If I don't want to write on a fic anymore and I haven't uploaded yet, I'll just stop. However, once I start posting, comments and general interaction with the fic gives me a huge bump in motivation. Engagement and talking about the story and the characters and the plot just makes me so excited to keep going so that I can drop the next plot twist or cliffhanger and read everyone's reactions. This time, for LMHS, I am very very lucky to have my own personal cheer squad of one (Hina) motivating me daily through memes and character discussion and new pieces of art and other various things <3

79. Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

The best actual constructive writing advice that I can give is: Do Not Edit Something Until You're Done. And yes, I mean the entire story - do not go back and reread/rewrite until you're done with it. Nothing will make your forward momentum disappear faster than going back to edit. If you're too hung up on details and perfection right away, you're never going to get done. You have to just write and accept that things will need to be reworked. Make notes for yourself on things to fix later or whatever, just do not scroll back up and start editing before you're done with something. It will only make you disappointed that where you pick up again isn't going to look as nice as what you just edited.

[immeasurable-depths]

Holding myself accountable by posting a snippet from the fic you guys convinced me to write… was hoping to have it out before the next episode but life happened. Hopefully it’ll be finished by next week! In the meantime…

Putting most of it under the cut since it is not very SFW 👀

A shiver of anticipation ripples up Laudna’s spine, her eyes captivated by the silky yellow bandana in Imogen’s hand. Imogen wore this every day for the first years of their travels together: it is something so irrevocably Imogen, so familiar. And yet, in this moment, it is something entirely new. Exciting. Enthralling. Laudna shivers again.

The material is soft as Imogen places it over Laudna’s eyes and knots it securely behind her head. The last thing Laudna sees is Imogen’s smile, small and secret, and her eyes, fiery with desire and adoration, before darkness envelops her. With her eyes covered, every other sense tingles, intensely honed in to the quietest of noises, the faintest of sensations. Laudna hears the gentle creak of the boughs of Ligament Manor, enveloping them in a cocoon of secrecy, allowing them a space that is private and uniquely theirs. She feels Imogen’s breath hot on her cheek as she kneels in front of Laudna, hands fiddling with the blindfold to ensure its security. Laudna catches the faintest hitch in Imogen’s breath, feels her own breathing stutter in response.

“Is that okay, darlin’? Is it comfortable?” Imogen’s voice is barely a murmur, but in the charged silence that thrums between them, she could be shouting. Laudna detects the faintest waver of uncertainty, and scrambles to reassure; this is new territory for both of them, after all.

“Yes - yes, it’s fine, dear,” Laudna affirms. She presses her palms into her thighs, nervous.

“Good, good.” Imogen is quiet for a moment. Laudna can’t feel her breath anymore.

When she speaks again, Laudna can already detect the change in tone. Imogen is quiet at first, tentative; but then a low husk reverberates in her throat, growing with confidence with every word. Figuring out the next steps, and enjoying it.

“Good. We’re going to leave this on, yeah? And you’re… you’re gonna sit real still for me, aren’t ya, Laud?”

Laudna feels her heart pounding in her ears.

“Aren’t you, Laudna?” Imogen prompts. Her voice is syrupy sweet, but something low and hungry ripples beneath the surface.

“Y-yes, Imogen. Of course.” She rolls her shoulders and takes a deep breath in, settling into a comfortable position. She can already feel heat pooling somewhere deep in her stomach.

“Good. And we’re gonna be real quiet, too, aren’t we?” Laudna purses her lips in response and nods. “‘Cause otherwise, you won’t get what you want. We clear?” Imogen’s breath is warm on her face, somewhere just in front of her lips.

Another frantic nod.

“Good girl.”

And there it is. Laudna inhales sharply, arousal flooding through her, her skin prickling.

Another fluttering heartbeat follows, and then Laudna feels Imogen’s hands clasp hers - though she tries to suppress it, Laudna can feel the slightest nervous tremor, before there is a nudge at the borders of her mind.

She lets Imogen in instantly, and warm tones float through her consciousness as Imogen’s voice, cautious and full of affection, projects into her mind.

If - if I’m not gettin’ it right, or if it’s too much or anythin’, you tell me to stop and we will instantly, sweetheart. Laudna thinks she might break apart at the sincere vulnerability of Imogen’s concern. Okay?

Yes, Imogen, yes. Of course. Laudna smiles, full of love and gratitude for the other woman.

And Imogen’s lips are on hers as she pulls her in for a deep kiss, warm and reassuring, as I love you, I love you so much murmurs into her mind. Lauda smiles again as her hands cradle Imogen’s cheeks, before she lets them fall limply into her lap.

Imogen clears her throat, encouraged. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Laudna breathes. And then, she waits.

[sugarsnappeases]

KARAAAA BARTYLILY LIBRARY FIC PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

LAURIE MY LOVELY YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT FROM ME ANYTIME YOU WANT!!!!!!

bartylily library is my silly little fic which i think about constantly and which is probs like. one of the most ambitious things i've ever decided to write.... it has Chapters.... i'm so bad at Chapters. but i love her anyway. she stems from this post i made in like december and she's been stewing beautifully in my head and has developed a lot since then so this post is just gonna be like. general deranged rambling lol

so. lily's coming back to her volunteering job at the library in her hometown after having been away at uni (she's second year, just finished the spring term and she's studying english lit). the library has always been a Big Part of her life, she would visit literally at least once a week and not just to get books but also for all the events that they put on like craft things and holiday clubs and film nights and the like.

and she's been volunteering there for the last five years, since she was fifteen, bc like. obviously she has. it's a bit of like trying to please her parents and demonstrate how responsible and brilliant she is, but also just the inevitable next step for a girl who semi-grew up in the library, but also something that will look good on her cv, but also something simple, easy, uncomplicated. it's a routine that she knows like the back of her hand, it's something into which she can fall after how intensely stressful her terms at uni are and something to which she can escape from the whole Petunia Scenario going on at home. and she's good at it and she loves it and she needs it.

this holiday. however. there's an Issue in the shape of one Bartemius Crouch Junior. who literally couldn't care a whit about the library or lily's routine or the ease and simplicity that she's been craving all term. he's a Nuisance. a Menace. a Bother. and he's ruining her life and she hates him but he's also an Enigma. and lily has always liked studying. analysing things. pulling apart words and actions. it's literally what she does for her degree.

also. as shown in the snippet i just posted, lily's trying to hold onto the hope that she can fix him and set the library to rights again but this doesn't really last very long bc he's just so entirely resistant to any attempt on her part to change him. like she's showing him seven times that these books go here, it's easy, it's dewey decimal, and yet he still insists on putting them in the wrong place and she knows he's just trying to rile her up and it's working bc he's just SO infuriating!!

but then also on top of that he's so Interesting!! like he's so charming, a little outrageous but still charming, to all the library-goers and to madam pince (the main librarian), and she's watching him when he's wandering around the stacks and taking mental notes of and then going around and looking at all the books that he had paused and looked at, surreptitiously checking out the ones she hasn't read

and when she comes into study on wednesdays (bc she's lame and three days in the library per week is Not Enough) he's wandering over to bother her but also chatting w her about the things she's studying (which i've decided is gonna reflect what the english students at my uni (it's all i know!!!) study in the summer term of second year. which is shakespeare. so i'm gonna have to come up w lots of things to say about ol' shakesy p. haven't studied him since i did my a level so this could be interesting... i do think that the hardest part about this fic is gonna be the Intellectual Literature Conversations, which i think there are gonna be a few of, bc the literature i have intellectual things to say about nowadays is all in italian and decidedly unhelpful for lily's english lit degree. although i'm planning to bring up michelangelo at one point. i just can't help myself i'm sorry. they're gonna discuss the silkworm poem...)

anyway. they eventually kiss lol. in the back room of the library where lily is trying to lecture barty on how he can't just endlessly point the old men in the wrong direction bc if he isn't careful they'll keel over before they find the books they're looking for. yk the vibe. and then there's a lot of visits to the park right next door to the library. it has a little duck pond in it, if you were wondering. and they go to a gig. and he skives off from the library to hang out w her.

oh also! his community service is like. two months and he's been there for a month already so he's got four weeks left. and lily's holidays are five weeks so there's a little goodbye thing for him at the library when lily's still gonna be there for a week if that makes sense. and then he shows up again to visit on the next monday grinning at lily like 'did you miss me?' and then she skives off one day and they go to the cinema and like wander around the shopping centre and she goes to his flat and has to walk of shame it into the library the next day. it's all very like. normal. but lily's never really had that and she feels a little like she's a girl in an american rom-com getting swept off her feet. like she's a little giddy and it's so easy, simple, uncomplicated etc etc etc

and anyway then she goes back to uni x

seriously tho i think about them all the time and this fic is gonna be such a labour of love and i'm so so so so excited about it!!! hope this like. makes sense and is interesting thank you so much for asking i love youuu

[maibluemen]

it's been a hair over a year since i last posted any fic/updated last light (look. i know the exact date bc it's also my sister's birthday i swear i have not actually been obsessing over this lol). i'll probably? be able to update this month, the next chapter is mostly done and then needs to be edited. mostly i need to sit down and just write it lol

it's felt a lot like the past couple of years, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, and it sucks to add all of that to a laundry list of pre-existing mental health Issues (the combo of adhd/depression/ocd deserves a special place in hell). social media has been....really rough, especially with the ocd. i simply don't have spoons to deal with it much and it doesn't take a lot to make me spiral in such a way i've nearly called 911 on myself a few times. i've unfollowed and blocked people over genuine grievances but also because i simply can't deal with it. and i'm going to keep doing that, and likely cycling between using socmed a fair amount and avoiding it for long stretches of time. i'm going to keep running the horror week, tho i think i'm going to have to put a pin in rusliet week for the time being, btwn my mental health and feeling really pessimistic about participation for numerous reasons (mostly the mental health tho, and also not knowing what my schedule is actually going to look like any more than a week out at a time atm). and all of this isn't getting into everything that's been going on offline either lol

but i did want to say that i appreciate everyone who has stuck with me, and stuck with my fics. and especially thanks to the people who comment, seeing ao3 emails about getting a comment have made me tear up lol and there's some of you i need to still reply to on ao3 proper but for now please take my thanks here

i also wanted to say that although i haven't posted in (just over) a year doesn't mean i haven't written, either, because i write things out of order and also write snippets of other things....if i can find my outline for the fra/pol/pru murder mystery fic, i'd like to start working on that for real and have it up by halloween, and then also get back to working on oneshots, too. and rework the LL outline...i was going to do that in scriv but i'm a bit hesitant to pay for scriv rn so i might be messing around with pen and paper a bit before typing it up nicely in word lol....anyway. i haven't actually lost interest in writing fic, though there are definitely patches there....but these story ideas and characters live in my head rent free and what can i say i like to write! so it will be exorcised from me eventually lol

[comphetkoncass]

oohoho finally writing again... first snippet of a fic. hoping to finish this but if i dont i still think this scene is cute :)

“...I’m your first choice for a plus-one?”

Kon looks embarrassed for asking her now, and Cass knows it was probably rude to say it like that, if it’s making him radiate embarrassment in such a high dose. Embarrassment, and about a dozen other things that Cass is trying to filter out, but the embarrassment is the one at the forefront. (Shame registers a little lower, a little deeper – and there’s guilt, too. What has he been up to, for the guilt? What is he trying to avoid, with the shame?) 

“Why so surprised?” Kon asks, and pulls Cass from squinting and looking deeper. “We’ve been each other’s plus-one before. Couple times, even. And it's for a hero event, it's not like it'd be weird for you to be there.”

“But why me and not-” 

“Cassie and I broke up.” 

“I know,” Cass says. “Ravager.” 

Kon flushes, and radiates embarrassment, guilt, shame, in higher and higher volumes. He crosses his arms over his chest, makes himself a little smaller. Cass is causing that. But she doesn't want to. “You know about that?”

She’s fought Ravager recently. And the hero community is small. And teenagers are the biggest gossips on the planet. 

“It’s not really working out with Rose,” Kon says. "And I... don't want to go alone."

Kon crosses his arms tighter; smaller, uncomfortably tight. Self-punishment? …For not figuring out how to make things work? For not wanting to go alone?

Cass tilts her head to the side. Thinks about the conversation they had, a lifetime ago. Before much of her family life got tilted upside down and turned inside out. Before Hong Kong. Before Kon died and came back and started going by Conner. 

(Should she be referring to him as that in her head, now? He’s never told her to call him Conner.)

Kon avoids looking at her, even now. 

It’s not her fault that he’s feeling this way. The shame and guilt and embarrassment were there before they started talking. But… She is making it come to the surface the more she asks. So she does something very stupid, and says, “Okay.” 

Kon’s eyes widen a little. 

Why so surprised, she wonders, when he was the one to ask?

“Really?”

“Yes,” Cass says, shrugging. “As friends,” she reminds him. “Not a date.”

“Oh. Yeah, obviously.” Kon looks relieved. 

A theory forms. Cass scrutinizes him a little further. “I only like girls,” she reminds him.

Kon looks more relieved. “I know, Cass.”

Weird. 

“And if Stephanie asks,” Kon starts, “I can tell her we’re just friends, too.”

“I’ll tell her myself,” Cass says, because Kon and Stephanie are… Not rivals, but not friends. Not the way Tim and Stephanie are friends or Cass and Kon are friends. She thinks they could get along, but they’ve gotten off on the wrong foot too many times. 

It’s stupid how much stock people put into first impressions. How they hold grudges. But Cass knows most people can’t see intention or predict movement the way she can. So they think grudges keep them safe. It must be exhausting. 

"I'll pick you up at eight," Kon says, still looking relieved. He goes in for a hug, and there's a safety he sees in her that always surprises her.

She hugs him back, giving him a few perfunctory pats on the back. And when they part ways, he looks better. But, she thinks that while the embarrassment has faded, and the guilt is no longer on the surface... shame isn't so easy to get rid of. It's burrowed deep down, and hard to shake. She wonders what it is. What caused it. And why it would come to the surface when asking Cass on a friend date.