#imbolc fic

[grogusmum]

FEBRUARY: In The Belly

A Hedge Witch and the Mercenary Story for Imbolc

PERO X F!READER (nicknamed reader)

WORD COUNT: 1700ish

RATED: M

SUMMARY: This is a one-shot for The Hedge Witch and the Mercenary series, though, I don't think you have to read the entire series to enjoy this fic. If you care to read the series here is a link to the series masterlist

Pero and his hedge witch, Mariposa are ready for Imbolc and for the babies conceived on last Beltane to arrive.

WARNINGS: pregnancy, beginnings of labor

A/N: Here is the February installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms February brings us the funny little holiday of Imbolc, living on today for non-pagans as Groundhog Day, Candlemas, and St Brigit's Day. Very like Groundhog Day it is all about the anticipation of spring- including prognosticating when spring will arrive. Included is a Gaelic proverb from Scotland.

Pero returned to the cottage, after stacking newly split wood under the shelter he built in the fall, arms full of firewood. He was proud of the structure, not only for its sturdiness but the idea- close to the home easy to get, even in poor weather. Keeping the crickets and other insects outside all the while keeping it dry.

“It is still light out,” he remarked, shutting the wind outside the door.

“So it is!” Your belly was full and round, the rite of Beltane having done its work. “Spring is truly on the way, husband.”

“The lambs will be here any day,” Pero grunted as he dumped the wood on the hearth. 

“This is good, we'll be able to milk the ewe and make cheese.” You said with a sigh, food stores were low and three feet of snow sat resolute on the ground. “We need to give an offering to Brigid at the well tonight, for tomorrow is Imbolc, my love.”

“I will do this, Mariposa. You, too, are due any day.”

You raised an eyebrow- 

“Pero you have cleared a path to the well, I can get there.”

Pero came to your rocking chair, placed a slow kiss on the top of your head then knelt before you. His hand found your belly and a kick from within responded. You both smiled looking down as if you could see the culprit. 

“Mi hermosa brujita, mother of my children,” Pero placed an open mouth lingering kiss on yours; it made you ache for more, “you are your own worst midwife, she has told you you must be in bed, not even in your chair, let alone at the well in the snow.” 

You rolled your eyes and let Pero help you up. You were big. You and the midwife both knew there was more than one child to be born, though no one would have guessed three. You laughed as you waddled to your cozy tick. Pero set you up so you could sit, wrapping a wool blanket around you and covering you in fur. Then he gave your belly a kiss and rested his head there, murmuring sweet nothings to the little ones in his native tongue. Then his dark eyes met yours -

“Do you have everything ready?”

“Aye,” you sighed, “All but the wash tub.”

“I will bring it in so we may start to fill it, Mariposa,” Pero smiled. “But you will stay right where you are.”  This was his favorite part of the Rites to Brigid. When you had told him that you would bathe each other, he was concerned that it was to be a sponge bath as it was on Beltane, the cottage was warm, but one finds every draft when standing undressed and wet, it would have to be rushed. But you assured him you would use the beautiful tub he had traded for in the fall. 

“Very well,” you smiled knowing Pero loved caring for you.

You finished weaving a straw Brigid’s cross and a dolly from the bed while Pero brought in the tub and snow to heat over the fire, it would take some time, but well worth it.

Pero listened carefully to all your directions, he took the basket full of items he would need to take outside, and tried not to show any nervousness about doing the rituals himself. Of course, you did your best to instill confidence, telling him you had complete faith in him. And if the faeries did not turn him into a boar already, they were not going to tonight. 

He began by hanging the cross over the door, and with a quick look back and a finger pointed at you to stay put, he set off. Needless to say, you snuck out of bed only a moment or two after he left, but only to move the heated water to the tub and place more melted snow on the hook arm in the fire. Then you set the cradle Pero had built next to the hearth and slipped back in bed. You picked up some of your handwork and waited.

Pero had very specific instructions. First, he laid a bundle of slit logs and sticks on his ax yard stump - an offering for Cailleach (kəˈlʲax) the crone who is nearing the end of her reign-

“For your hearth Cailleach, may you rest and allow for an early end to winter.”   

Pero approached the well, looking around as if to make sure he was alone. Then walked sunwise around it. The blessing he learned only a murmur at first but gained strength as he went-

“Thig an nathair as an toll

Là donn Brìde,

Ged robh trì troighean dhen t-sneachd

Air leac an làir.”

(The serpent will come from the hole

On the brown Day of Brigid,

Though there should be three feet of snow

On the flat surface of the ground.)

“Brigid, blazing in the darkness of winter,

keeper of the flame

We honor you, light bringer,

healer; exalted one.”

He set out the loaf of bread with honey and a cup of mead, then continued -

“Bless us now, hearth mother,

that we may be as fruitful as the very soil,

and our lives as abundant.”

Then Pero left the path, stepping up on the deep snow. He settled his weight finding the snow can hold him, only sinking a few inches. He walked over to the sleeping apple tree, one of the reasons you and Pero chose this spot for your home, and tied a strip of linen to a limb.

Then clasped his hands and said his own prayer.

“Please.” Pero began, his voice hitched slightly, “please keep my mariposa safe when she bares our babies. Brigid, Good Neighbors… God- whomever, all of you…”

Pero could feel his ire going up, transforming his fear into anger at whatever powers might be listening as if he could hear them making excuses not to grant his plea. But wisely, he ended his “prayer” quickly as he was close to giving them an ultimatum. Instead, he took a breath and gave his thanks for you, this life he never thought he deserved, and the babies that were to come. His last task was to hang up some clothes for blessing, but before he moved to hang them he heard the low of the pregnant ewe, not in the stable but by the well reaching with her mouth for the bread.

“Mama, what are you doing here?” Pero looked around, wondering how she could have gotten out there so suddenly, as he approached the sheep. After all, she was almost as wide as she was long. The sheep waited, her calm eyes on him. 

“This is no food for sheep, sí?” he admonished. 

She bleated her own admonishments in return. 

Pero looked around, thinking of all you had taught him of the old gods, of the fae, and he took a piece of the honeyed bread and gave it to her.

“There you are, mama. Now let's get you back where you can rest.” He led her back to the stable and added some straw to her bed before heading back to the house. He heard some voices and something moved in his periphery. He did his best not to smirk, but to his ears, they seemed pleased. 

Finally, he returned to the warmth of the house, and you- his home.

He swung open the door, sure he would catch you out of bed, but you looked at him innocently from the bedstead.

Pero made no mention of the water he could see had been moved, nor the stool with a pitcher, washcloth, and soap. The two lengths of linen from Beltane were now warming by the fire. He finished the job, filling the large tub with melted hot snow and adding more. 

After the water was ready he came to the bed. 

“Come, mi vida,” he said his voice low. He helped you out of bed and out of your shift, and you helped him out of his shirt and unlaced his britches. The firelight set a warm glow on your bodies, Pero wondered if he would ever stop being in awe of yours.

As you stepped into the tub, you let out a sigh, Pero settled you in before climbing in himself. His eyes on you were worshipful. He loved every change your body has gone through, your belly rounding like the moon, your breasts swelling with pre-milk to nourish your babies, his babies, our babies. He knew he would love your body after. He could not ever imagine not wanting his hands on you at all the time. Pero pulled you forward so he could tuck in behind you. 

You reached for the small pitcher and poured a thick liquid into the tub. As Pero reached for the washcloth and soap, he began washing your shoulders, neck, and back.

“What potion is that, Mariposa?”

“Ewe’s first milk, sacred to Brigid, good for purifying baths,” you said simply.

“That reminds me, the ewe was by the well.”

“Matilda? When?” making a small splash as you turned to look at him.

“Yes, she just appeared after I said the blessing,” Pero said with as much curiosity as one might have if they saw the baker outside his shop in the village. 

“Auspicious,” you mused, smiling.

“I gave her some bread,” Pero began washing your front, his arm wrapping around you. You could hear he was pleased with himself.

“Good,” you smiled, looking over your shoulder at him, “Brigid will be pleased.” Your kiss on his cheek was interrupted by a small moan as he paid special attention to your breasts. Circling gently as he knew they were tender at this point. He kissed your neck, and your moan turned to a groan. This sent a zing of excitement down his spine. His kiss turned to a bite, but you stiffened in a way that did not seem right. You were still a stone -

“Marimosa?” 

Your hands went to your belly, and Pero knew. You had talked to Pero, and so did Yedda, the midwife, assuring him that at the very start of labor, you had time for him to ride to Yedda’s village and back. He was sorry you did not have time to enjoy your bath, but he knew what to do. 

“I think it is time, Pero. You are soon to become a papa!” you smiled.

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚 HAPPY IMBOLC!

If you enjoyed this, you can find more Pero and my writing in general on my masterlist and if you would like to be tagged in future work, please go to my taglist form.

[witcherwheeloftheyear]

Today is Imbolc!

The first event of Witcher Wheel of the Year 2023 is now live. The prompts were

well/spring - divination - initiation - turning of the tide

pregnancy - cumplay - fireplay -

snowdrop

dumpling

colour palette here

Post your fanwork, tag with #witcherwheeloftheyear, and @witcherwheeloftheyear

There is an AO3 collection here and a canonical tag: A Witcher Wheel of the Year Challenge

Not done yet? No problem, you have until January-ish 2024!

Prompts for Ostara (March 20) can be found here, and the prompts for Beltane (May 1) will be revealed next week.

graphic by Crimsonherbarium

[astaldis]

@witcherwheeloftheyear

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word count: 660

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Snowdrops, Well, Imbolc, A Witcher Wheel of the Year Challenge

Summary: On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night?

"Look, isn't this a beautiful place!"

Geralt grunts. Angoulême is not wrong, the little glade looks beautiful indeed. The tall trees around it are powdered with a thin layer of snow crystals that sparkle in the last rays of golden afternoon sunshine, the grass and dry filigree stalks of last year's wild flowers are also coated in sparkling white that crackles under their horses' hooves, and, around the ancient looking well, there are large patches of snowdrops stretching their white heads toward the light. It looks peaceful, serene, like a nice place to make camp for the night. However, if something looks too beautiful, there often is some hidden danger lurking in the shadows of the trees. Or burrowed in the ground. Even the well might harbour some kind of monster or evil spirit. Perhaps the water is poisonous? Or enchanted by an evil wizard or witch? Maybe he has become a bit paranoid, but in his line of work you can never be too careful. Better safe than sorry.

"Wait!" Geralt holds up his gloved hand to stop the other members of his company from leaving the narrow path and venturing further into the glade and straight into the potential trap. Suspiciously, his yellow eyes narrowed almost to slits, the Witcher gazes around ...

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44626222

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Seven Several Sentences Sunday

I was tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove and I'm about to work a ten-hour shift so before that hits, have a snippet!

“It’s not about money,” Eddie mutters. Buck turns to him, folding himself like origami on his chair. “Okay, what’s really going on here?” “Going on?” “Don’t play me for a fool, Imbolc. I know when something’s up with you. Why do you want to avoid the mountain pass?” Buck pauses, lets the silence linger. “You can talk to me. It’s okay.” He remembers when they’d stopped by his parents’ house in El Paso, and things had been tense. Not enough that it was a stilted dinner, but enough that Hen and Buck had picked up on it. Buck had cornered him at the bathroom afterwards, and Eddie’d told him the truth: it was the first time he’d seen them since they’d tried to take his son. “Listen to me,” Buck had whispered, his voice completely devoid of the softness that usually infused it. “They will never take Chris from you. Ever.” I know, Eddie had thought. They can’t, now, because I gave him to you. Buck’s never said that he wished Eddie had told him sooner. But he still thinks it was unfair, in retrospect, to let Buck wade into that without knowing the truth. If he could go back in time, he’d tell Buck before. He’d let himself bask in Buck’s righteous, protective fury. And because this isn’t real life—because this is D&D—he can do that. He can be selfish.

You are all SO lucky I love you and shared a Buddie fic and not my rarepair that's rotating around in my head like a rotisserie chicken.

When Bobby said that D&D could be a bit of wish fulfillment this isn't exactly what he meant...

Tagging @princessfbi and anyone else, again, no idea who's got something going on.

[maingh0st]

❤️ 🦋 and 📗 for the ask game!!!

hi!!! from this ask game! gonna go in reverse order:

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

my full-time job is writing! but fic allows me a creative, non-work outlet during my free time. I do have a few original fictional novel ideas in varying stages of planning/drafting, but I’ve been focusing on fic for the last year or so because it gives me a sandbox to practice & sharpen specific skills. I don’t have a grand dream of becoming a published author, but if I ever managed to polish a novel to the point of being really proud of it, maybe I’d seek out a lit agent

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

obviously I really enjoy the Ghost/Taryn fics I’m working on right now, but honestly, I think the most fun I’ve ever had writing fic was when I took a stab at Zoya’s POV in head on my heart (tell me we’re worlds apart). she just has this very biting, almost morose internal voice that was a nice change of pace for me

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

oh nooooo this is hard!! “favorite” can mean so many different things. I’m going to cheat a little bit & give a few answers

from a thematic standpoint, I’m proud of the following exchange from head on my heart (tell me we’re worlds apart) for what it represents in the overall story:

Weariness weighed on her. "A thorn wood is only ever a thorn wood, Nikolai." His lips against her collarbones were nearly a kiss. "That's precisely what I'm saying, Zoya."

it might not make sense out of context, but the skills I was focusing on in that fic were character voice + theme through a framing device, and I feel that ^ exchange near the end of the fic really captures what I was trying to do

from a purely prose/atmosphere standpoint:

Winter wanes. Life stirs deep in the belly of the earth and spring arrives quietly, a visitor padding through a snowfall. With spring comes the fest of Imbolc—the time of melting snow, blooming blackthorns, and ewes gone to milk. [this whole passage, actually, but I'm already stretching the prompt's "one line" limit haha] [from ch 4 of mniwyd]

on a character level:

Taryn stored up her worst memories of Locke the same way she stored up her best memories of Madoc. [from ch 8 of mniwyd]

&

His father had been a good, honest human, but in the absence of another parent, Elfhame became his mother—and he's been sitting at her feet for far longer. When he thinks of the years stretching before him, the long fae life he is promised so long as no enemy cuts him down, he fears what he might become in her custody.   [from ch 5 of mniwyd]

[mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips]

Maira Live Reacts!

Read a fic, had some thoughts... Bon appetit.

About a quarter of the way through Descendants of Cyrano by the fantastic @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels I decided to write notes in a kind of live-reaction reading.

Mads, this is for you. Thank you for writing this amazing fic. ❤️

(Spoilers within, read at your own risk!)

I meant to save this as a draft as I was worried about posting it, but Technology™️ intervened, so, here it is? I guess?

Me: *reads scene (Imbolc loves Atton to the core)*

*literally throws phone (It's fine, there was a pillow)*

Me: Fuck me dead, he did not just-

My fiancé: Fic?

Me: Fic. Christ.

*~*

*me reading the scene from between my fingers a la Chimney*

Me: I can't I can't I can't

*~*

Me, to my cat who is asleep on my lap: Evie, boys are dumb.

Evie: *twitches ear*

Me: I'm so glad you agree.

*~*

*the session after The Sexting*

Me: Oh MY god.

Me: Just... come on.

*~*

*after the in-game fight, when Buck comes over*

Me: OH! MY! GOD! YOU! BOTH! LOVE! EACH! OTHER! JUST! SAY! IT! AAAAAH!

*~*

'There's not point in going only halfway to Hell' Me: Boy, you ain't wrong, damn. Get it.

*~*

Me, after the blowjob against the wall scene, literally face-palming over Buck thinking EDDIE ONLY DID IT IN CHARACTER FOR THE GAME like, baby honey sweetie... No.

*~*

... You realise you both admitted you had to 'clean up' after that, right? Right?!

*~*

*hits them both (lovingly) with a clue-by-four* Y'ALL!

*~*

"Can I kill him?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

🤣

I can hear Bobby's deadpan delivery and it is *chef's kiss*

*~*

... Crossroad's demon? Really?

*~*

*Eddie's speech to the Wives of Hell*

Me:... No, no, I'm fine, I'm not sobbing, it's cool.

Me: Oh, no, it's getting too real, oh, gods.

Me: FUCK YES A NAT 20!

*~*

Xedgin called, they want their paladin back.

*~*

*panicking at the thought of the 118 breaking up because of retirement or other captaincies and knowing those are good reasons but still wanting to cry*

*~*

Gold star for that reference indeed.

*~*

'Marry me.'

Me: What the FU-

Evie: *in cat* Mother, do stop yelling, I am sleeping.

Jesus H Christ, Mads, I can't believe you actually went through this as an actual campaign and SURVIVED, my god.

*~*

*keeps reading*

*squeaks at how much they fucking love each other*

*~*

Y'all we're in this temple for the wedding and I'm waiting for one of them to straight up go 'I can't do this' and walk out of the game because it hurts too much and they want it to be real.

*~*

BOBBY MADE POPCORN! 🤣

*~*

Simultaneously weeping and giving heart eyes and feeling my heart break because Eddie thinks he doesn't deserve to say this IRL.

*~*

Oh, Eddie Diaz, my beloved.

(Could say that about the whole fic, but, specifically here)

*~*

'He was bound to slip up' oh this bodes well.

*~*

*gasps* Oh nooooo.

*~*

OH SNAP!

*~*

My boy Eddie Diaz, y'all. I'm so proud.

*~*

I take it back, I choked on my tea when he said the core line TO BUCK IRL I WAS NOT PREPARED!

*~*

“If you say intelligence was my dump stat…”

🤣

*~*

Okay the 'so hot it's almost cold' thing? I get that too, and the one person I told gaslit me about it, saying it was impossible and I was making it up, so I never told anyone again and now I am Holt from B99 yelling vindication! dot gif.

*~*

THAT REVEAL! *dies laughing*

*~*

Seriously, can't stop cackling.

*~*

Watching Chimney have an aneurysm shouldn't be this entertaining.

*~*

Ofc Bobby figured it out, he's the real MVP.

*~*

My heart, right in the feels, damn.

*~*

Fucking great last line.

*~*

And oh good, your friends admitted it, thank all the gods.

*~*

[heatherfield]

Walk Me Home | A “Headless” Fic Chapter Fifty-Two

Story summary: Brom and Matilda find their relationship status is more complicated than ever after the explosive reveal of a year’s worth of secrets. How do they navigate their way forward when they struggle to know what’s true? And yet, to their friends, some things couldn’t be more obvious. (Explores what happens in between the climax of the finale and the epilogue of “Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story”.)

Chapter summary:  Matilda and Brom return to the Bishop house for their celebration of Imbolc, where they find some things are the same—and some are very different.

Chapter Characters/Pairings: Brom and Matilda, Matilda's parents

Rating: Teen

Author’s note: This chapter should really be summarized, "where Heather tries to cover as many emotions as possible in one short(ish) chapter"—and continued next week!

Link: AO3.org

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: February 13

Zero writing done, but I’m getting through my gigantic read list! 

Here’s what I enjoyed this week!!!

🪐 = Year of Themed Creations work!

.

PERO TOVAR

First Kiss by @hopeamarsu 🪐 Holy BALLS was I left breathless and yearning with this one. I think I’m still recovering. What I wouldn’t give to make Pero stop for a hot second and realize what a kiss means to him. To not let me go. To want more. 

The Herbalist: Part 3: Appearances Can Be Correct  and Part 4: Sticking Your Nose In by @blueeyesatnight A wild Pero appears (proceeded by odor and followed by cussing) just as reader is described as “a lady.” You think he cares? These two couldn’t be less likely or suited to enjoy each other’s company...and I can’t wait for them to crave it.

Love and Red by @chaoticgeminate This is actually a fanwork of leslie-lyman’s Stranger At My Gate. Readers of that story will recognize the Walsh family members, as well as Pero and Tess and their red string. It’s wonderful to look at a fan paring from an outsider’s POV while inside the story itself!

In the Belly by @grogusmum 🪐 Hazel’s Hedgewitch and Mercenary are preparing to reap the fruits of their Beltane tumbles. Since his Mariposa is supposed to be resting, it’s up to Pero to get the Imbolc ritual right. After being put through a quiet test, he’s about to get what he deserves!!!

Whatever Comes Our Way by @writeforfandoms  Okay, come on now. Jen’s modern!Pero is one of my happy places because he’s such a toddler of a man. Pouts, grumps, refuses to give into force. But his defenses can be eroded by the funniest things...in this case, a ferret. Watching Pero bond with a ferret is... *giggles* delightful.

.

JOEL MILLER

The First You by @yelena-bellova I love this meditation on Joel through the eyes of his Tess-like companion, sleuthing out little gestures and behaviors that point to an inner Joel, someone with passions and preferences he’d rather not let anyone be privy to. Which is a shame...because he’d benefit so much from the love. Beautiful and aching.

I Lied by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 When Joel gets protective, he gets protective. And when you belong to him, he’s not gonna let anyone else have you. Swoon.

Saying I Love You After A Fight by @songsformonkeys 🪐 Hanna’s going for my heart this year in all the different ways one can say I love you, and she’s already making me yearn on this first one. The way the reader and Joel trust and know each other--know how they argue, the sound of sleep vs. laying awake, the words that are unspoken and those that are... It’s just a beautiful quiet moment of making up in the quiet way Joel has, and I’m here for it.

Home by @radiowallet  Cat revisits the moment when Tess denied that she had a home with Joel and how it affects him. It’s heartbreakingly beautiful like all of Cat’s writing, but that last line goes for the throat and the pain is so exquisite that I’ll gladly just lie here staring at the ceiling and letting it bleed out....

Getting Lost is Being Found by @littlemisspascal  This is an absolute stunner. Dark AU, hellhound!Joel, alpha/omega dynamics. Sometimes I feel like Rae is the good witch of this fandom, peering through her cabinet of ingredients and skillfully poitioning the most amazing fics from them. Her writing in this one is particularly beautiful, her descriptions and worldbuilding just gorgeous. This is one of those fics that takes me out of time and places me somewhere else for a while. Perfection.

Anywhere But Here by @prolix-yuy A bleak and beautiful examination of Joel and Tess’s relationship from Tess’s POV, from a supposed meeting right up until the greatest thing she’s ever done. LJ’s writing is absolutely gorgeous as usual, and she really knows how to make it sing while it stings.

Men Who Are Fighting To Be Warm: The NSFW ABC’s of Joel Miller by @something-tofightfor  Listen. When Rachael writes Joel, she writes JOEL. And even if this is a headcanon format, you’re going to get in deep to Joel’s head and learn about him beyond the bedroom. The man has stories from so many lifetimes--from Texas, Boston, Jackson...he’s got his triggers and his traumas, but it’s nice to see him on the road to having the semblance of a quiet and loving life.

SPECIAL GUEST CORNER: THE LAST OF US EDITION ELLIE AND SAM

Not A Monster, Not Alone by @beecastle  Bee wrote us a fix-it fic for Sam and Ellie. And it’s so bright and wonderful that it just breaks my heart all the more...

.

OBERYN MARTELL

Does Your Mother Know? by @simpingcowboy 🪐 I’m in love with the ABBA theme. I’m in love with this version of Oberyn. And I’m in love with how he toys with her and leaves her wanting more. I’m not an age-gap kinda girl, but I adore Oberyn’s way of saying something shocking as if it was not taboo at all. Because, to Oberyn, little is taboo. But even he has his limits.

Sweet Reds and Starlight Mornings by @lowlights No joke, when Oberyn’s told to make a mess, he’s going to enjoy making that mess. And there’s no mess like a honey and fluids mess. What a fantastic birfday gift. Lap. It. Up.

.

MR. BEN

What The Hell Are Fancams? by @musings-of-a-rose I’m kind of still reeling from this. I usually stick to reader fic or OC (this one’s first-person narrator) so nearly took a hall pass...and I’m so so SO glad I didn’t. I love the narrator a lot and her student Chelsea is a little mischievous queen. (Can we talk about her mutual student crush and how adorable they are???) This is just wall-to-wall mutual crush at first site and holy balls this is so fluffy and cute and my heart was just fluttering all the way through it and pulling for them the whole time. Srsly. NO. CRUMBS. LEFT.

.

EZRA

Glory by @insomniamamma 🪐 I never want J to stop writing for Ez and Prickle. And since she so cleverly writes their story out of order in moments and assignments, expertly weaving in just the things you need to know in order to follow that particular installment, you can read any of them as standalone or read them as they come up, as if you’re getting scattered stories of a life lived, as many life stories are told. This one isn’t of just one instance but many, of how love looks and acts with Ezra at the wheel. And forgive me if I disappear after this one as I have melted and am slowly seeping into my couch cushions...

.

JACK DANIELS

Spare Parts by @haylzcyon  I am in love with the balls on this reader character. How she knows when she’s not wanted and leaves without a fuss. How she speaks her mind. How she tells her man exactly what’s on her mind. And, of course, how she puts him in his place--secure in her heart and bed. <3

.

MARCUS MORENO

YSC: Heartbeat by @deadhumourist 🪐 This fic gave me emotions that I don’t really know how to define. For her first Year of Science Fiction installment, Ani takes Marcus and gives him a new heart. Which sounds lovely and poetic. Until you realize this is sci-fi. And then things point toward the darker side. 

.

[jomiddlemarch]

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @iamstartraveller776 Thank you! 💜

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Hermione took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for agreeing to see me. You’re the only person I can ask,” Draco said.

Rose stood before her, drooping, her braids coming undone, shoes scuffed, a new rip in her overalls, giving Hermione a look of absolute incredulity when faced with the undeniable truth: Hermione had forgotten to pack snacks.

It was not that he was waiting for her as much as that he was most often in the faculty sitting room at this hour and so was she and the staff knew to leave out a full tea service and also a magically chilled bottle of very dry amontillado, the color of her eyes. 

“I Owled Molly,” Hermione said, tossing the words over her shoulder while she fussed with the copper teakettle.

“Beltane, sex magic, and a botanical aphrodisiac,” Hermione said.

Taking in-house on-call at St. Mungo’s on Imbolc wasn’t the absolute worst, as far as Hermione was concerned.

“Be honest—”

“There used to be offices. Actual fucking offices, doors, windows, generic black and white landscape photography in a black frame because they wanted to be a little edgy, architect-school-wannabes,” Nina announced at the water cooler, which had been moved out of what was nominally the kitchen-slash-lounge, so that it was less appealing to stand around and chat.

It took a lot to shut them down in Jackson, but getting two feet of snow dumped over the course of a short winter’s night followed by plummeting temperatures effectively did the trick.

I think what I notice is I tend to start with someone talking OR a very long sentence. I occasionally mix that up for myself by starting with something very short. I also nearly always start with a main character vs. the setting.

Tagging @orlissa @trulybetty @nervousladytraveler @tortoisesshells @aquitainequeen @ladamedusoif and anyone else who wants to navel-gaze.

[nikethestatue]

I’ve received three back to back prompts, and decided to combine them all in one fic. 

Prompt 1: What is Azriel’s favourite (baked) treat.

Prompt 2: Feyre is an art student and Rhys is a nude model.

Prompt 3: Elain teaches Azriel to garden.

A mini, fluffy trilogy. 

Summary: Elain finds out that Azriel’s birthday is coming up on Imbolc. She is on the quest to find out what his favourite treat is and bake it for him for his birthday. Oh, and Cassian’s.

Imbolc

Part I

Chocolate

“Imbolc is coming up soon,” Nuala made the offhand comment, as she filled her pastry bag with vanilla buttercream and began piping.

Elain, however, was struggling.

The little square of parchment paper that she filled with chocolate and was now attempting to make delicate chocolate decorations with, was not cooperating. The chocolate burst out from the top, pouring over her hand line a mini lava stream and then plopping onto the counter.

“I hate this!!!” she raged and Nuala laughed silently.

“Why are you laughing?” she snapped, and the wraith twin, who was piping gorgeous rosettes over the perfectly smooth cake shrugged,

“You need to be patient. It’s an art, just like anything. It takes practice.”

“It shouldn’t be this difficult!” Elain let out a frustrated grunt, as she began salvaging the melted chocolate and dumping it back into the bowl. 

Chocolate was expensive. It came from Day Court, and at first, Elain didn’t even like it. It was both sweet and bitter and tasted…odd. However, Rhysand enjoyed it, and ordered aggressive amounts of it to be delivered once every few weeks. 

If it wasn’t for Azriel, Elain probably would’ve never developed a fondness for the brown goo, but…as luck would have it, she once walked in on Azriel tucking savagely into a chocolate bar. 

He seemed taken aback by her witnessing him eating it, and scrambled to put the chocolate back in the cupboard, like he was trying to cover up a scene of a crime. Elain laughed at him, and told him that his secret was safe with her. 

“You don’t understand, Elain,” he began a rambling explanation. “But Rhys thinks that Mor eats his chocolate. While Mor thinks that it’s Cassian. Cassian thinks that it’s Feyre and Rhys,”

“So you got a little devious plan working here,” Elain laughed freely and happily, and she didn’t notice how intently Azriel was observing her then. How his hazel eyes glittered with merriment when he watched her laugh.

“Well, don’t worry, I will not infringe on your secret stash here,” she promised. “I find myself quite indifferent toward chocolate.”

At this, Azriel clutched his chest like he was mortally wounded and his handsome face expressed utter horror.

“That cannot be!” she cried out dramatically.

“Oh, but it be,” she continued laughing at his antics.

“Then we shall remedy this at once! You, my lady, don’t know what you are missing!”

She grimaced and admitted, 

“I’ve tried it many times, and I just can’t,”

“That’s because you tried the cheap stuff,” he cut her off confidently, and then extended his arm to her. “Let’s go!”

“What now?” she frowned in confusion.

“No better time than now. Let’s go.”

It was a crisp autumn day–bursts of yellow everywhere, piles of fallen leaves blanketing the granite embankments of the Sidra, the scent of vanilla and spices wafting in the air. 

The moment they left the house, Azriel began fussing over her. He tucked a scarf under the collar of her jacket, made sure that she wore gloves, and then pushed her wide-brimmed, felt hat lower on her head, so it ‘covered her ears’. It didn’t, but Elain found his unnecessary concern endearing. What kept her warm and comfortable that day was the close proximity to him–his towering form, the warmth of his body next to hers, the sure heaviness of his muscular arm, which she held over the elbow. It felt carefree and cosy, to be walking like that with him–like they were a normal couple, out in the city for their own business. Not the Shadowsinger and the Seer. Not the High Lady’s sister or the Illyrian warrior. Just them. 

They meandered into the older part of town, where the streets were lined with book shops, little boutiques, endless cafes and pubs. Through the windows, Elain observed groups of Fae enjoying their ale, pints of cider, pitchers of mead, and she felt a pang of longing and envy in her chest, for she wanted to be free and unburdened like them. Azriel gave her a look, but said nothing. He knew. He always knew what she was feeling, what thoughts gnawed at her. He knew. 

They continued their walk down the winding, cobblestone streets, and while the walk was mostly quiet, Azriel pointed out interesting things about various buildings. 

“Here,” they stopped at a tiny little cafe–one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it places–which Elain would have never looked at twice if she passed by.

They entered, Azriel ever the gallant gentlemale, opening the door for her and allowing her to enter first.

A pretty Fae girl was minding the counter. It was a tight space–but with lovely walnut finishes, old frescoes on the walls, a long walnut counter and display case, which showcased an array of pastries. Despite its tightness, the place was bustling, with people crowding the bar and the six small tables. 

Azriel told Elain to find a spot for them, which was easier said than done, but she finally managed to navigate to the wide window seat, which was cushioned and had a bunch of pillows on it too. She sat down, saving a spot for her companion too. The seat was high and her legs dangled above the floor, and when Azriel noticed it, he smiled. She looked like a big baby, her eyes darting everywhere, her head moving back and forth, as she observed the organised chaos in front of her. 

“Here,” he crowded next to her, sliding onto the seat, so that his arm pressed into hers and their thighs brushed against each other. She acted brave–like nothing unusual was happening–but his ever-watchful eyes noticed her throat bobbing, especially when their hands brushed, and his scarred fingers wrapped around hers, once he handed her a cup.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned.

“What is it?”

Elain glanced at the cup, but whatever was inside, was covered by a thick glob of silky whipped cream.

“Mmm,” he considered for a moment, while she tried to figure out how to attack the drink around all this cream. As she brought it to her lips, she immediately earned herself a thick, creamy moustache and a little blob of cream on the tip of her nose.

Azriel looked at her and rubbed his thumb over his beautifully sensuous lips, before bursting out in laughter. 

“Ugh, this is a mess!” she complained, feeling the cool cream all over her face.

“You can say that again,” he agreed, and then reached for her, and before she could say anything, he smeared her moustache off her upper lip with his thumb. Without giving it a moment of thought, Azriel pushed his thumb between his lips and sucked the cream off. 

Elain’s throat bobbed again.

She watched him lick his lips, his eyes never leaving her, as he swiped his thumb over the other corner of her mouth and then murmured with approval ‘delicious’. 

She blushed, suddenly feeling very warm in this small cafe, next to the mighty Illyrian warrior…well, with his muscular arms, and his honey-brown eyes which were tinted with emerald, and his overly large wings and all…All. Of. Him. He was so big. So dangerous. So beautiful. And his scarred fingers were sure, but tender when he touched her mouth, her lips. And she found herself wanting to lick his thumb. Kiss it. Taste the cream off his fingers. 

And he knew. He always knew what she was thinking. The emerald-tinted eyes crinkled with a mischievous grin and he smirked. She wanted to push him. And yell at him. And tell him to stop it. To stop tempting her. To stop making her want him. To just…

No, she didn’t want him to stop.

“May I?” he whispered, leaning closer to her face. 

May he? What else was there to do? He already wiped all the cream off her mouth.

Was he going to kiss her?

Oh, Mother above!

Elain’s heart beat like a galloping horse. Surely he was able to hear it.

Mother above. He was going to kiss her.

Here. Now. 

In this tiny cafe which smelled like coffee and chocolate and butter.

He was going to kiss her.

He swallowed and nodded, breathing, “yes”.

He gently clasped her jaw with those sinful fingers of his, tilting her face just a bit and…

His mouth closed on the tip of her nose. 

And he sucked the little dollop of cream onto his tongue.

“When I kiss you, Elain,” he whispered hotly into her cheek, “it will be your last first kiss. When I kiss you, I will mark you forever as mine. When I kiss you, that will be it for both of us. Forever. Because no one will ever kiss you again like that. No one will touch you, but me. You, Elain Archeron, will be mine and no Cauldron, or the Mother, or the Cauldron’s swirling eddies would ever stop me from claiming you as mine.”

He pulled away and then, as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t just unsettle her whole world with his declaration, he decided,

“Suppose I should teach you how to drink this.”

Elain barely comprehended what he said to her, but she watched him swirl a long spoon inside her cup and then, he winked and said, ‘open up, beautiful’.

Obediently, she opened her mouth, and he fed her something…heavenly.

It was deep and rich, smokey and sweet, slightly bitter and deliciously creamy. She swallowed. 

Azriel bit his lower lip, watching her. 

“What is it?” she managed to finally ask.

“Hot chocolate,” he explained simply. Then he scooped another spoonful of chocolate and cream and fed it to her. The drink was thick, with a hint of oaky alcohol in it.

“I love it,” she admitted, watching him, unblinking.

He smiled.

“I love it too.”

She wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but it didn’t matter.

Azriel proceeded to feed her spoon by spoon, thick smooth chocolate dripping into the cup, between her lips, the cool cream cooling the inside of her mouth. 

“This is dangerous,” Elain told him.

The alcohol in the chocolate made her warm and soft, and she allowed Azriel to unbutton and remove her jacket and her scarf. Now, she sat in the corner, pressed between the window, the wall and the Shadowsinger. That felt like the best place to be.

“I am a dangerous male,” he grinned at her.

“I was talking about the chocolate.”

“And I was talking about me.”

They sat in the cafe for hours. 

It was so warm and cosy inside, and when the rain started to pour outside, it was not like they could leave anyway…

Azriel kept feeding Elain all sorts of chocolate concoctions. A tiny cup of chocolate mousse, which was a silky, intense taste of heaven. A chocolate cream puff, which they split–it was filled with chocolate cream, and glazed with a shiny chocolate glaze.

“You see, beautiful,” Azriel’s deep, dark voice surely reminded Elain of chocolate, as it slithered and slid over her bones. “I am a lot like chocolate…”

“Mmmhh,” Elain snuggled to him under his arm, which has been embracing her for the past hour. He just draped it over her, and pulled her to him, his long, powerful body unfolding and relaxing next to her. Azriel was always relaxed next to her. He’d allowed himself to be informal when it was just the two of them, oftentimes sprawling in front of her in a chair or on a sofa. Very unlike the Azriel that everyone was so familiar with. 

“And how’s that?” she asked sleepily.

“Unassuming and unimpressive on the outside,” he mused. “Complex and dark and enticing on the inside.”

“If you, my lord, think that you are unimpressive on the outside, you clearly don’t know what the hell you are talking about,” Elain argued, snorting. 

He laughed and tightened his arm over her. 

“But I agree with the rest of the assessment,” she decided.

…“It’s not difficult,” Nuala argued. “But…practice makes perfect.”

Elain wrinkled her nose and muttered under her breath, “You sound like Azriel.”

“What?”

“Nothing…”

Her friend laughed.

“He did teach me many things. And practice did make perfect.”

Elain refilled her parchment square with more chocolate, twisted the top and asked, “What about Imbolc? Is there a special celebration?”

Imbolc was a winter holiday, celebrated a month or so after Solstice.

Elain wasn’t familiar with it, having sort of missed it last year, and having paid no attention to it the year before.

“There is,” Nuala continued decorating the cake, “It’s Azriel’s and Cassian’s birthday, you know. We don’t do,”

“What?” Elain interrupted her quickly. “It’s Azriel’s birthday?” she exclaimed. She had no idea. “And I mean…Cassian’s too,”

Nuala shot her an amused look and then said, “It is.”

Perplexed, Elain asked, “they were born on the same day?”

“Azriel was born on Imbolc. No one knows when Cassian was born, only that it was in the winter. So Azriel offered Cass his birthday–so they could celebrate it together. Which they do, every year. Used to be that the two of them and Rhysand would go to the cabin in the mountains and get drunk for three days. 

“When they were young-er,” she cleared her throat, “I heard rumours,”

“What sorts of rumours?”

Elain paused her work and listened to Nuala with rapt attention.

“They’d go to Hewn City and have…well,”

“Have what?!” Elain insisted, “parties?”

Nuala cocked her brow and murmured,

“Sure. Parties. With a little something extra.”

“Like what?”

“Like orgies, Elain.” 

Elain wasn’t exactly sure what ‘orgies’ meant, but she didn’t want to admit it to her friend, and figured that she could probably ask Nesta later on.

“Oh,” was all she squeaked.

Nuala might have guessed, but she was trained by Azriel. So she didn’t press the conversation further. 

Working in silence for a few moments, Elain kept thinking, before asking,

“So, what is Azriel favourite treat?”

“Treat?”

“Yes! Does he like cakes? Pies? Creamy delights?”

Nuala furrowed her brow and scratched her nose.

“Actually, I have no idea. I don’t think Az even likes sweets…”

Confidently, Elain argued, “oh, he definitely likes sweets!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Then you’ll have to ask someone else. Ask Cass. Or Rhysand. They ought to know.”

At once, Elain set her chocolate pouch on the counter, and then untied her apron.

Nuala gave her a look and chuckled, 

“You really going to go and find out right now?

“No better time than right now.”

What would be the Shadowsinger’s favourite treat for his birthday?

Oh, and Cassian’s too.

[dianneking]

Larissa's Gloomy Summer Chapter 4

Hi all, happy February 1st and merry Imbolc for those who celebrate! I am down with a cold so I won't be super chatty but the new chapter for my Larissa/Morticia/Gomez fic is up! Link in the title above!

Thank you to @scream-queenlover for the cover pics and to @yourlocaldisneyvillain for being extra patient in betaing this fic.

[witcherwheeloftheyear]

Molanna

@astaldis (I borrowed your own wrapup post for this, I hope you don't mind)

Imbolc February 2nd: The Glade

On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night? Friendship (Words: 660; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ostara March 20th: Where the Tulips Grow

Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri learn that Jaskier has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that hint at a kidnapping. Yennefer leaves Geralt with Ciri and goes to save the bard. But not all goes as planned. The hero becomes the damsel in distress and Jaskier has to save the day. Romance/Yenskier (Words: 23,951; Chapters: 9/9, )

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Beltane May 1st: Belleteyn

Yennefer has a beautiful May Night with her lover. Who the lover is? I had one specific Witcher character in mind when I wrote the fic, but you might fancy a different pairing. So, feel free to decide yourself whoever works best for you, Yennefer/Geralt, Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Istredd, Yennefer/Cahir, Yennefer/crossover character, Yennefer/You, ... loads of possibilities! Romance/Smut (Words: 3,469; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Litha June 21st: A Night to Remember

It's Litha, the longest day of the year, and Geralt is throwing a garden party at his newly acquired estate, Corvo Bianco, the old vineyard in the Sansretour Valley. Milva cannot dance, but Cahir is a good teacher. The delicious wine and Jaskier's newest song also help. And then there are Angoulême's Hansa Games and Regis's hot hooch ... Friendship/Romance/Humour (Words: 4,160; Chapters: 2/2)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lammas August 1st: Of Bairns and Banes

It is a beautiful night, fair summer weather, the air balmy, the sky clear and sprinkled with stars. The perfect night for the village’s traditional Lammas celebrations, the feast of first fruits. However, unlike in the neighbouring villages and the years past, there are no bonfires here today. No corn dolls to be burned and bulls or horses to be sacrificed as an offering to the gods. No ritual dances or athletic competitions are held or blueberry loaves baked in the village bake house. This year there is no matchmaking and rolling about in the hay. For the village is in mourning, the villagers terrified. And very much in need of a Witcher. Lucky for them, one has just arrived.

This is the story of Cahir’s first solo monster hunt. Spooky Adventure (Words: 2,977; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mabon September 22nd: Her Idea of Fun

“Finished!” Angoulême exclaims and starts to dance circles around the victim of her wager. “I bet nobody’d take him for a Nilfgaardian now!” she adds with a raucous cackle that reminds strongly of a goose on fisstech …

Cahir loses a bet and Angoulême is having fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 444; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Samhain November 1st: The Present

It is the evening of the last day of October, Samhain, a magical night where the gates between worlds are wide open for those who can travel through space and time. Ciri can, and she has a surprise for her boyfriend Cahir, a very nice surprise. Romance/Cahiri (Words: 1,656; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yule December 21st: Jaskier's Jolly Yule Jumble

Another festive event is coming up in Toussaint and Jaskier has the perfect idea for how to celebrate it with his Hansa. He only needs to convince Geralt and the others that his idea for their Yule party will be fun, lots of fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 8,681; Chapters: 4/4)

[themerlinlibrary]

Favourites Friday (July 2024) – All Time Favourite

TML Favourites Friday round-up! July 2024 round 1

What is Favourites Friday? – The Basics

a different theme is announced on Friday each week; FF recs must match the theme of the week

only one FF rec per person per week/theme

FF recs must be unique within that week/theme; no double-posting the same fic for one theme!

no self-recs during regular rounds

only self-recs during self-rec rounds (last Friday of each month)

Theme for week 1: All-Time Favourite!

Imbolc by MerlinLikeTheBird G, 145k, Merlin/Arthur Canon AU

Sorcerer's Bane by BeautifulFiction E, 265k, Merlin/Arthur Canon divergence, Abduction

Once and Future Pride by Papysanzo89, Pinky_Wisteria, Snarky_Ship (Pinky_Wisteria)  E, Series of 8 art works, Merlin/Arthur Modern AU, Comics, Pride

The Crown of the Summer Court by astolat E, 24k, Merlin/Arthur Merry Gentry fusion

The Hands We Use To Catch Each Other by scripps T, 10k, Merlin/Arthur Canon Era

From Shadows to the Light by PeaceHeather T, 16k Post-Canon Fix it

My Significant Bother by evaelisaa, Leandra E, 96k, Merlin/Arthur Modern Era, Royalty, Friends with Benefits

wanna be your end game (my youth is yours) by ladililn E, 63k, Merlin/Arthur Modern Royalty AU, Series

Twitch Your Whiskers and Pull My Tail by BlueSimplicity E, 62k, Merlin/Arthur Modern AU

Avalon by s0mmerspr0ssen E, 133k, Merlin/Arthur Modern AU, Escort!Merlin

All lives are (love)stories by amithia E, 193k, Merlin/Arthur Canon Era, Soul Bond, Fix-it

Dower the Stars by RurouniHime E, 41k, Merlin/Arthur Canon era AU, Golden Age

Parchments by BlueGrassSax E, 33k, Merlin/Arthur Canon era

Let's Be Winners by Mistake by Seravia E, 48k, Merlin/Arthur Modern AU

A Challenging Hostage/A Challenging Quest by wryter501 T, 390k, primarily Gen with background ships  Canon AU

A masterlist of all round-ups can be found here.

If you want to make sure you never miss a FF rec, or would like to participate and share your own favourites; join us on the Discord TheMerlinLibrary! Happy reading!

About the FF round-up lists:

Recs are listed in the order they were posted on the Discord; the order does not imply any sort of ranking.

The pairing given in this list is the main pairing of each respective fic – please read the tags for any possible minor or side-pairings, as well as any potential warnings or triggers.

Pairings and Eras are given as tagged in each respective fic. (?) signifies that the tags were unclear and I do not know enough about the fic to fill the gaps.

Round-ups are compiled on the weekend of the week after the respective theme of the post (when the new theme has already been anounced), to avoid omitting potentially belated FF recs.

The weekly round-up is not a guarantee! I'm running this alone, so it can only be posted for weeks when I have enough time on my hands to compile a list. If you'd like to help out, feel free to contact me on Tumblr ( @zaharya ) or Discord. Thanks to @ravenwilds for helping me out with these round-ups, and to Chel for making a whole-ass bot to make it easier!

[grogusmum]

Joining up with @oonajaeadira @writeforfandoms for "A Year Of Themed Creations" (self) challenge.

Mine, the wheel of the pagan year. Fics centering or inspired by the 8 sabbath and 4 moons

January: Quiet Moon  (Oberyn Martell x F!Reader) Oberyn travels to the North and meets a beguiling sorceress.

February: In the Belly a Hedge Witch and the Mercenary short for Imbolc (Pero x "mariposa" f!reader) Pero is tested as he tries to do the Imbolc ritual in his mariposa's stead.

March: In Which, Bean Are Not Beans, Eggs Are Every Place And I Have To Eat Them (That is doing my part, people!) As Told By Grogu Djarin A Grogu pov fic for Ostara/Eostre

April: Budding Moon, a Seven Tears Short (selkie!Ezra x f!Reader) Ezra tells his Pearl about his first love, a handsome sailor.

May: Yes, You May : a Beltane Story part one (Oberyn x f!Reader)

It's a maypole meet cute!

June: Litha a Javi and the Beeheeper one shot (Javi x gn!Reader) Javi helps his Bee Charmer make litha candles.

July: Buck Moon a Your Spot Companion (Frankie x "Rocket" gn!reader) it's the smut folks, under the moon, cowboy camping style. Don't look at me

August: Lughnasadh (pairing TBD)

September: Mabon (pairing TBD)

October: Samhain (pairing TBD)

November: Mourning Moon a Conversations with Dead People Companion (Frankie x f!reader w/ Holly)

December: Yule A Galaxy Far Far Away (Din x f!reader w/Grogu)

You are welcome to come into my DMs and asks with questions, thoughts and ideas.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Fuck It Friday

I was tagged by @smallandalmosthonest who is trying to murder all of us with their "Eddie keeps walking in on Buck and Tommy having thee nastiest sex" fic.

I am in rarepair hell, I do admit, but I also hope to actually finish the two Buddie fics I've been promising so, have a snippet from The Gang Plays D&D*:

Of course, Atton’s an idiot, so it takes Chim’s character Hae-in pointing it out for Atton to realize he’s got a crush. “So,” Hae-in says when Atton’s just stabbed a guy a few more times than necessary because the asshole jumped Imbolc, “are you ever going to tell him that you dream of kissing him under the moonlight or are poor underpaid knockoff assassins going to just keep suffering for your pent-up sexual frustration?” “I don’t have any pent-up sexual frustration,” Atton replies, stabbing the corpse one more time just for the hell of it. “Sure you don’t, buddy.” I can’t believe it took Atton that long to realize, Eddie texts Buck later on, clearly amused. Yeah, Buck texts back, his stomach weirdly in knots. What can I say, the guy’s high Intelligence and low Wisdom.

Who the hell is even writing. Um. @buckttommy and @princessfbi catch! *throws the hot potato at you*

*not the actual title, actual title pending

[astaldis]

My Witcher Wheel of the Year 2023 Fics

Thank you so much for creating this fun event and the inspiring prompts, @witcherwheeloftheyear 😘

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Imbolc February 2nd: The Glade

On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night? Friendship (Words: 660; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ostara March 20th: Where the Tulips Grow

Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri learn that Jaskier has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that hint at a kidnapping. Yennefer leaves Geralt with Ciri and goes to save the bard. But not all goes as planned. The hero becomes the damsel in distress and Jaskier has to save the day. Romance/Yenskier (Words: 23,951; Chapters: 9/9, )

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Beltane May 1st: Belleteyn

Yennefer has a beautiful May Night with her lover. Who the lover is? I had one specific Witcher character in mind when I wrote the fic, but you might fancy a different pairing. So, feel free to decide yourself whoever works best for you, Yennefer/Geralt, Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Istredd, Yennefer/Cahir, Yennefer/crossover character, Yennefer/You, ... loads of possibilities! Romance/Smut (Words: 3,469; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Litha June 21st: A Night to Remember

It's Litha, the longest day of the year, and Geralt is throwing a garden party at his newly acquired estate, Corvo Bianco, the old vineyard in the Sansretour Valley. Milva cannot dance, but Cahir is a good teacher. The delicious wine and Jaskier's newest song also help. And then there are Angoulême's Hansa Games and Regis's hot hooch ... Friendship/Romance/Humour (Words: 4,160; Chapters: 2/2)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lammas August 1st: Of Bairns and Banes

It is a beautiful night, fair summer weather, the air balmy, the sky clear and sprinkled with stars. The perfect night for the village’s traditional Lammas celebrations, the feast of first fruits. However, unlike in the neighbouring villages and the years past, there are no bonfires here today. No corn dolls to be burned and bulls or horses to be sacrificed as an offering to the gods. No ritual dances or athletic competitions are held or blueberry loaves baked in the village bake house. This year there is no matchmaking and rolling about in the hay. For the village is in mourning, the villagers terrified. And very much in need of a Witcher. Lucky for them, one has just arrived.

This is the story of Cahir’s first solo monster hunt. Spooky Adventure (Words: 2,977; Chapters: 1/1)

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Mabon September 22nd: Her Idea of Fun

“Finished!” Angoulême exclaims and starts to dance circles around the victim of her wager. “I bet nobody’d take him for a Nilfgaardian now!” she adds with a raucous cackle that reminds strongly of a goose on fisstech …

Cahir loses a bet and Angoulême is having fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 444; Chapters: 1/1)

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Samhain November 1st: The Present

It is the evening of the last day of October, Samhain, a magical night where the gates between worlds are wide open for those who can travel through space and time. Ciri can, and she has a surprise for her boyfriend Cahir, a very nice surprise. Romance/Cahiri (Words: 1,656; Chapters: 1/1)

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Yule December 21st: Jaskier's Jolly Yule Jumble

Another festive event is coming up in Toussaint and Jaskier has the perfect idea for how to celebrate it with his Hansa. He only needs to convince Geralt and the others that his idea for their Yule party will be fun, lots of fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 8,681; Chapters: 4/4)