#also i'm really tired from working on two major projects so writing my wip for coc is kind of my way of taking a break i guess?

[darling-archeron]

Hello again! 🧑🏻‍🎄

I hope you had a wonderful Halloween full of candy and fun! I ended up not doing anything much beyond dressing in black and orange at work bc I was so tired by the time I got home, but I did do a little more prepping before midnight kicked off and I started writing your fic for nanowrimo! Two days ago while writing, despite following the outline, Feyre and Rhys still managed to take control and change something right at the beginning😔 but honestly I love it and how it’ll enhance some of the plot and I hope you will too!

Any plans this coming week? I’m flying to visit a friend tomorrow night so will be busy probably until late next week, but I’ll still be tapping away those keys as best I can in my down hours.

Also - I know it’s a bit late but re the favorite fic post - i just adore Hot Chocolate with Cinnamon! Feyre drawing those cute little puns makes me smile so much☺️ and for the wip post feysand fake dating au?👀

And for your first snippet, a line I literally wrote five minutes ago:

“I’ll trip you,” she admitted blatantly. “If a wolf decides to show its face to us? I don’t have to outrun it. I’ll just have to outrun you.”

And Rhys just laughed at that, loud and carefree, either unaware or unbothered by the looks it earned from the other townspeople out and about on market day.

Have a great week!!!

Hi Santa!! I have had so much Halloween candy the past couple weeks, it's been great haha. My actual Halloween was pretty uneventful, I dressed up and went out with a few friends!

I personally always love it when the characters run away with the story, it's usually when I end up getting most inspired and writing in big streaks.

Hot Chocolate Cinnamon is one of my older favorites! One of the few times I don't make anyone suffer 😅I'm so glad you enjoyed it, I want to keep writing more aus like that in the future :)

I'm having so much fun with the fake dating AU! I'm forcing myself not to post it until I have the majority done because I'm notorious for leaving multichapters unfinished, which is a habit I'm trying to break. The premise is that Feyre and Rhys are partners for a class project in college, and Feyre ends up needing a fake date to a work event because Tamlin will be there...and the whole thing goes from there! Here's a little snippet for fun :)

-

Feyre narrowed her brow. “This better not be some elaborate scheme to sleep with me, Rhysand.”  

“It’s not, and I’m a little offended that you think so little of me.”

“What then? You’re just really bored? Between the two of us, I’m the one who was home alone last Friday night.”

“I already told you, I can’t have you slacking on our group project! Is that not a good enough reason?”

Hardly, Feyre thought, but bit back the remark.

He was helping her, after all.

-

I hope you have a great flight and a great time with your friend! Last week I got to see some friends I haven't seen in forever.

Omg this snippet has me so excited. Soft/domestic vibes? Chef's kiss!! Thank you for sharing!!

I hope you are doing well, have a fantastic week!

[thecoziestbean]

5 Songs

🎶✨When you get this, list 5 songs you actually listen to. Then, send this ask/tag to 10 of your favorite followers 🎶✨

I love talking music, so thanks for the tag @rebelrebelwrites !

I make playlists for EVERYTHING, so naturally I have one for every WIP and every potential WIP. Here are 5 songs that have been on heavy rotation lately that specifically relate to Haladriel/Saurondriel projects. This got really verbose... I just really love talking about music!

If you follow me on the bird app (if you don't you can @ cozy_ships) you might have seen me post some prompt fills related to a story I'm working on for Haladriel Week. It's a Prairie Gothic AU with a Tevildo as Black Phillip thing going on. Oh and there's a sexy farmhand Halbrand. The working title is Meet Me at the Edge, which is a lyric taken from "The Beast" by Delta Rae.

"Meet me at the edge, I ain't afraid, Lord I've already fallen, See the beast sitting on the ridge, No time to waste, Let him know that we're coming."

The Venus of Valinor is my main WIP right now. It's a multi-chap art heist AU with a lot of screwball comedy that was inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (1966) with Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole. It's hard to pick one song for it because there are so many that vibe with Hal and Gal's moods at various points in the story, but "Secret Heart" by Feist feels very on the nose overall. Both our leads have lots of secrets. And it's a song that I never tire of.

"This very secret, That you're trying to conceal, Is the very same one, That you're dying to reveal."

Mirah is one of my all-time favorite musicians, and "Gold Rush" is probably my favorite song by her (the name of my tumblr comes from this song). It also gives me major Haladriel vibes. It's on all my fic playlists.

"Oh love when I get lonesome, I'm gonna call you up into my world, When waters rise up I do my best, To keep my home floating upon your chest."

This is one of the most Haladriel coded songs in my rotation. Also one that's always been deeply personal to me, even pre-TROP. It figures prominently in the playlist for a Western AU I've been working on for a while (I've shared a few snippets of this one via prompt fills on the bird app as well). Not sure when this one will make an appearance, maybe Haladriel Week, but this one is a heavier lift for me, so no promises.

"I walk with others in me yearning to get out, Claw at my skin and gnash their teeth and shout, One of them wants only to be someone you'd admire, One would as soon just throw you on the fire."

The first thing I started writing was/is a Music AU. It’s heavily rooted in the late 1980s/early-mid-1990s punk & grunge scenes, as well as being loosely inspired by the film Whiplash (2014). The whole thing started from the idea of Finrod & Sauron’s epic song battle reframed as two kids from rival grunge bands, and Sauron somehow being responsible for Fin od’ing (think Finrod as Kurt Cobain). There’s also a whole thing with flashbacks where first Mairon, and then a young Galadriel were drumming students of the brilliant but unforgiving Aulë, and then in the future-present Sauron’s trying to live a quiet non-musical life but then music exec Galadriel “discovers” him and drags him kicking & screaming back into the life. I’ve got a little written, but have no idea if it’ll ever see the light of day, although I seem to have outlined it here so… 🤷🏻‍♀️

Siouxsie & the Banshees are a little earlier than the time period this fic is inspired by, but they’re influential to a lot of the other acts that are prominent in it, and I see them as being one of Galadriel’s faves in the story (also one of my faves). And the drumming on “Into the Light” is 🔥🔥🔥.

“Standing in the light, I never wanted to be right, Now I’m attracted by the light, And I’m blinded by the sight.”

Tagging (zero pressure, I'm sure many of you have already been tagged): @justatinycollector @ophidion @demonscantgothere @hazelmaines @jhalya

[vampire-named-gampire]

Carry On Countdown - Day 22

Wow, watch me use the @carryon-countdown to plug my skating fic lmao

I don’t know if this counts, since Angelina is an OC and actually, Baz would totally make friends with/practically adopt a 17yo Russian girl, so I don’t know how unlikely it is, but it’s here. And also, I just really want to share more of On thin ice content, but the fic itself isn’t ready to be published yet so have this instead. 

For context, Baz used to train in Russia aged 16-20, and now both him and Simon train in Montreal (no, idk why I chose Montreal out of all places but that’s how it is.) Also I think Gelya is the Russian diminutive/nickname used for the name Angelina, but I’m not sure. The fic is still in the works, so this scene is bound to change/expand (I did omit it a bit when writing because spoilers) but anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. 

Prompt: Unlikely friends Word count: 1950 Rating: This scene is G, although the whole fic will be T or M 

SIMON

The ride from the airport to the hotel is awful. Baz must’ve suspected this, because he made me sit in the front.

“Go on,” he said teasingly. “The only skater who has motion sickness.”

I have to say, sitting in the front almost didn’t make a difference. I may not know how to drive, but even I know you’re not supposed to drive like that. When the cab drops us off in front of the hotel, I don’t even bother hiding my relief. Baz laughs.

“I never want to experience this again,” I say, knowing full well that this is my life for the next week. The hotel might be close to the venue, but it’s still far enough for it to be a driving distance. I can only hope buses are less deadly than cabs.

“You know, Moscow traffic is actually tame compared to the rest of Russia,” Baz smirks, handing me my bags.

“Well then I never want to see the rest of Russia,” I mutter, slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder and stepping through the automated hotel doors. Baz scoffs and follows me.

This hotel is fancy – much fancier than the hotels we usually stay at. Baz doesn’t seem phased by it at all, the posh bastard. I bet the hotels he stays at when he’s on vacation are at least twice as posh.

He does, however, seem phased when someone yells “Basil!” across the lobby. Before either of us can register what’s going on, a small figure in a red jacket runs towards us at full speed and crashes into Baz, making him emit a surprised oof sound.

The moment I realize the figure is actually Angelina Nuriyeva is the moment she starts speaking in fast Russian. I don’t understand a thing, but Baz seems to, because he laughs and hugs her back.

I knew Baz and Angelina were friends, but I didn’t think they were this close. I mean, they’re the exact polar opposites; Angelina is an actual sunshine (she’s always hugging and smiling at everyone) and Baz is… Baz. (He’s a big softie, I know that, but he goes through great efforts to appear cold and closed off.)

But here he is, ruffling Angelina’s hair and telling her something in Russian. (I’m suddenly met with the realisation that being in Moscow means I’ll get to hear a lot more of Baz’s Russian. I am very much not complaining at this prospect, even if I don’t understand a thing of what they’re saying.)

Angelina is nodding along and she pulls out her phone to show him something, but that’s when Baz stops her, suddenly speaking in English.

“Wait, I think in the interest of Snow, we should switch to English. He already looks lost enough as it is,” he says.

“No, no, I’m fine, by all means…” I start, but I’m soon cut off by Angelina.

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry, Simon! Come here, it’s so good to see you,” she says and hugs me. (This is what I mean when I say Angelina is a sunshine.)

“Good to see you too,” I nod.

“I was just about to show Basil how his houseplants are doing. Do you want to see too?” she asks.

“Houseplants?” I don’t bother hiding the surprise in my voice. Since when does Baz like houseplants? His flat in Montreal doesn’t have any, spare the tiny cactus on the windowsill.

“I had a lot of houseplants when I still lived here, but I couldn’t take them with me on the plane when I moved, so Gelya took them in her care,” he explains, as if he’s reading my mind.

“Georgy is doing amazing but Ilya went a bit floppy. I changed his earth so now I’m hoping he gets better,” Angelina says, showing Baz a picture of two houseplants, side by side, one of them (Ilya?) looking slightly wilted.

“When it goes floppy, we say it wilts, and we don’t say earth, we say soil,” Baz corrects her. If I was Angelina, I’d probably be annoyed right now, but she just smiles at him.

“Thank you. It’s so much harder to learn English now that there’s no one here to practice with me,” she sighs.

“You know you can call me any time and we can practice,” Baz offers.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I stop them both. There is so much new information I have to process. “You had houseplants? And you named them Russian names? And you taught her English?” (That would actually explain why Angelina’s English is so good.)

“Yes, Snow, are you keeping up?”

“And when he gave them up, he wrote me a whole notebook on how to take care of them,” Angelina chimes in. “And another notebook with English grammar.”

Maybe I do have trouble keeping up. Who is this Baz? (And why is he so attractive?)

“I never thought of you as a houseplant kind of bloke,” I shrug. “You don’t have any houseplants in Montreal.”

“I’m still mourning the loss of my old children.” Baz deadpans before turning back to Angelina. “Show me Alyosha. He was always my favourite.”

-

BAZ

Unsurprisingly, the jet-lag catches up with me right when it’s time to go to bed. I don’t know why I was naïve enough to believe I won’t need melatonin when dealing with an eight-hour time difference. I better take it now, before it’s too late.

I sigh and throw the covers back before picking up my phone to check the time. However, a text message notification from Snow grabs my attention before I can do that.

Is he nervous again? It would make sense, since this is a big competition for him. Would I be able to sneak into his room and sneak out the next morning unnoticed? I doubt that. There are only athletes staying on our floor, the coaches, press and competition staff are all on different floors, and I doubt the athletes would pay us much attention, but it’s still risky.

I’d much rather risk a few weird looks than have Simon spiral into panic two days before a major competition, though. I decide I’ll go to his room if that’s what he needs.

Maybe I should check why he’s even texting me before I devise any plans.

SS: do u have melatonine? SS: jet lag

I sigh in relief. He’s not having a mental breakdown. He’s just jet-lagged. (Which is a bit strange for Snow, but I suppose even his circadian rhythm can take a blow from time to time.)

BP: It’s spelled melatonin and yes, I have it. You can come get it if you still need it BP: Room 254

SS: yes ik where u r SS: I’ll b right over

I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for Snow to knock on my door. He’s staying a few corridors down, in room 273, so it takes him a few minutes. I jump up when I hear his knock.

He’s standing in front of my door, wearing joggers, a hoodie and those damned glasses of his again. His hair is messed up, like he’s been tossing and turning too.

“I thought you didn’t get jet-lagged,” I say, stepping aside to let him in. He settles on the edge my bed while I rummage my luggage for melatonin supplements.

“I don’t get sleep jet-lagged, but I do get food jet-lagged,” he says.

“What does that even mean, Snow?”

“It means it’s lunchtime in Canada right now and I’m so hungry I can’t sleep.”

I bite back a laugh. He’s an idiot. (An adorable one but an idiot nonetheless.) “You don’t need melatonin, Snow, you need this,” I say, throwing a granola bar at him. He startles, but manages to catch it.

“You’re just giving this to me?” he asks, audibly surprised. (Which is ridiculous. He gives me food all the time and here he is, questioning my generosity over a fucking granola bar.)

“No, Snow, pay up. Fifty rubbles.”

“I don’t have any Russian money,” he laughs, tearing the wrapping open. He’s going to get crumbs all over my bed, but I don’t shoo him away. Instead, I finally find the melatonin supplements and take one with some water. “Do you still want one?” I ask.

“Do you have any more granola bars?”

I laugh and pass him another one before sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, just to make sure he’s really okay.

“Right now? I’m just hungry,” he says, tearing open the second granola bar.

“Right,” I nod.

“Baz. Are you doing that thing where you’re worrying about me again?”

“A bit,” I admit.

“Stop,” he says like I can just turn it off like a tap. (I wish I could.) We sit in silence for a while, me thinking about how much easier my life would be if I just stopped worrying about Simon Snow and him chewing through his granola bar. “I didn’t know you and Angelina were such good friends,” he finally says.

“We trained together for four years,” I shrug, but it’s not just that. The training environment in Russia was intense. It’s a bloodbath to even get on the national team there, so of course it’s intense, but I think every other skater the rink was looking at me sideways because I was an outlier. I wasn’t Russian, I didn’t speak Russian and I think they felt like I didn’t belong there. (I know now that I really didn’t.) They eventually accepted me and by the time I left Russia, even the ones who refused to speak during my first year there were sad to see me go.

But Gelya was nice to me from the start. She was only thirteen at the time and didn’t speak any English, but she clapped for me when I did something well and cheered me on when I was having a bad day. (Thanks to her, davai was one of the first Russian words I learned.) She brought me homemade pyraniki on special occasions and when I got injured and had to go back to England to have surgery, she sent me get well soon cards all the way from Russia and she made the entire rink sign them.

That’s just who she is. She’s this nice to everyone and it didn’t matter to her if I was Russian or English, I was just another person at her rink who she could bring biscuits to. Over the four years that I’ve lived there, she became like a little sister to me.

“Baz?” Snow’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. “You seem tired. I’m going to go.”

I have half a mind not to ask him to stay here. (We both know we can’t do that.) “Okay,” I say instead. He stands up and throws the granola wrappers in the bin. I stand up too, to walk him to the door (I have manners), but he waves at me to sit back down.

“It’s fine,” he says.

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“If my hunger doesn’t get to me again, yes,” he laughs. He’s already by the door.

“Wait.” I stand up and grab the last granola bar from my bag, offering it to him. “Just in case,” I explain. I want him to stay here, to make sure he sleeps well and doesn’t spend the night worrying about the competition, but I can’t do that, so this is the least I can do.

“Thanks,” he smiles, tucking it in his pocket. Then he hugs me briefly and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

And he’s out the door.