#this scene in particular sparked the fic

[lilyharvord]

RQ Week 2 Flash Fic Friday

... a scene taken from a series of scenes for a fic I wil probably never write.... Bonswa my loves, I have returned (: @nortaeventcouncil. For RQ flash fic fridays (prompt 1 secrets)

“Would you have given them to me?”

            Mare glanced up at him with wary eyes, hearing the way his voice betrayed the nonchalance with which he asked his question. Somehow, she knew he would ask her at some point. It had really just been a matter of when for weeks now. Being at the cabin always seemed to loosen lips, and now was no different. The last thing she wants to do was open this can with him though. She had already suffered his presence from the moment it arrived, and all she wanted to do was stay in the tranquility of this moment for as long as she could.

            “Given you what?”

            His cheek twitched at her avoidance, but his eyes softened at the edges. Glancing away, he stared out the frosted window at the viciously falling snow. On the back of the plush chair, his fingers curled into claws on the blanket draped there. The storm had come violently midday and had stayed well into the night. Travel was impossible, leaving was impossible. She felt like a fish trapped in a tank with a shark.

            “Would you have… given me children?”

            Mare’s hand stilled on Coriane’s curls, and she had to forcibly keep herself from possessively wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer. The question wasn’t directed at Coriane at all, but something about the idea of it made Mare’s hackles rise. He hadn’t made any overt threats toward Coriane yet, at least none that Mare knew of. Maybe her threat had worked that first night, or maybe he had been telling the truth when he told he that he had nothing against her daughter. Given the past, the former had to be true.

            Slowly she returned to stroking Coriane’s damp hair, and considered her as she did so. Fresh from a warm bath, she dozed peacefully. The firelight bathed her in orange and red; the perfect colors for her palette. For half a second, she imagined her with different features, the more angular ones that used to haunt every one of Mare’s nightmares. She imagined her with blue eyes instead of mellow amber. Something in her stomach clenched tightly at the fact that she could not picture her daughter laughing with those blue eyes. She swallowed subtly before saying the only thing she could.

            “They never would have been ours. They would have been your mother’s.”

            His exhales whistles through his teeth, telling her she hit the nerve that has always made him curl in on himself.

            “That’s not true.”

            “Look at me and say that. Look at me and tell me that you really think I would have been allowed to raise them, that she would have let me.” She stared him down across the space, her hand stilling on Coraine’s head again before slowly guiding her closer. She wouldn’t be able to fit in her lap much longer, but it was the only way Mare felt like she could keep her close right this second.  

            He raised his chin at her, those icy blue eyes practically glowing in the low light of the dying fire. His cheek twitched again, and he curled his fingers into a tighter ball on the blanket.

            “I would have made her stay away from them.”

            Mare couldn’t help but laugh. The movement and sound made Coriane shift, and curl tighter against her. Cutting the sound off harshly to avoid waking her, Mare shook her head in exasperation. The least he could have done was say something believable. “You would have tried,” she admitted quietly, when Coriane had sighed and relaxed again. “And you would have failed.”

            His entire being went still as stone, and Mare felt the undulating waves of heat he tried to contain wash over her as softly as the waves on the lake shore. She watched him tear his eyes away from her, and gnaw on the inside of his cheek for a moment. The odd kinetic stillness she remembered settled over him as he began to tap a finger against his knee. Slowly he molded himself back into the blasé image he had been maintaining up until this conversation.

“You think I wouldn’t have loved them.”

            There wasn’t a hint of a question in his words, and Mare pursed her lips at the accusation. A part of her wanted to keep twisting the knife deeper, to inflict the pain she had always been able to with him. The other part, the one that had grown out of the bitter, resentful girl she had been stayed the blow, and ultimately won out.

            “I think, she wouldn’t have let you love them. Or me.” She added the last part quietly, but it still struck home like a blow.

            His finger started tapping again, and even in the low light she could see the nail was bit to the quick. The others were probably no better, so she didn’t bother looking at them. Before it had been easy to just remember the man who had been on the other side of cell bars taunting her and pulling at old wounds. It had been easy to remember the manic energy in his eyes when she had chased him down in Whitefire. Potentially facing the young man he had been underneath all that made her shiver. Her eyes slowly fell, and she dropped her voice to a whisper as she said, “There are no more secrets, not anymore.”

            “No more secrets.” He echoed the words mockingly under his breath before rising and slipping back into the shadows of the house. The fire popped loudly in the grate, the only residue of his emotions, while the wind howled outside and thunder rumbled faintly.

[nooomagnus]

oh hi! my kinks are your fault!!

(no I can't think of anything better to say, yes I only recently saw your Tumblr handle in one of your AO3 notes and it turns out you're one of the first people I followed on Tumblr 😅 Great work! Keep smuttin' it up!!)

HGDKSJLAFJD;DVJKGJKF

this is so funny genuinely thank you so much for telling me. i'm sorry and you're welcome 😈

[mala-sadas]

🗣 💗

🗣️Talk about your favorite WIP

Ahh, I have so many, how can I choose just one... I guess the one I'm currently most stoked to work on is In Hop of Protection! I started writing it a couple years ago on a whim and subsequently put more effort into it than almost any other fic I've written... I've started cramming as much Hop & Leon fluff into it as possible, but it's also the perfect excuse for me to let Hop interact with a bunch of characters from other regions. I've got a rough draft of the rest of the fic written, it's just a matter of motivating myself to edit it... I think I just need to let go of my perfectionism and just edit it as well as I can 💪

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

Hmm... This is a tough question, because I think most of my WIPs right now are stalled out because I already wrote all the scenes I was excited to write and don't have any motivation to go back and write the boring ones...

After going back and checking some outlines, I think there's one scene for a fic that I'm pretty excited to write because I think it'll be a lot of fun. The fic takes place in the Pokémon Masters universe, and in this particular scene, Leon, Hop, and Hau are hanging out with Eternatus and trying to learn more about it - including a particularly humorous encounter where the giant skeletal space dragon tries to give Hop a hug.

[stvrchaser]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader

( words ) : 2000

( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag

also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest

oh and happy new year!!

Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.

The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.

You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.

It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.

The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.

You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head. 

“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.  

“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”

“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh. 

“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.

“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.

“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.

She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.

“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.

“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”

“But he’s—”

“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”

You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.

“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly. 

“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Good. Now say it.”

“What?”

“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.

“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”

“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”

“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.

“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”

“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.

“Among other things.”

“Well, tell me about these other things.”

“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”

“Come on. What other things?”

You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Shut up. I’m not finished.”

“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”

“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”

And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you. 

You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.

“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”

“Are you calling me a talented poet?”

“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics. 

“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”

“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.

“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground. 

You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.

From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth. 

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”

“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.

“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.

“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.

You stand, offering your hand to help her up. 

“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.

“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”

“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”

•°. *࿐

reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake

clarisse: ok fine

clarisse: *tries to drown percy*

reader: what did i say about drowning people??

clarisse: …

clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits 

also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them

[halfhoursonearth-writes]

Can you recommend fanfiction that you personally really like?

Yes! Love this ask. I’ve never made a Zutara fic rec list partially because I’ve read so many wonderful stories over time that I find the prospect daunting! 

But there are absolutely certain stories that I have a personal soft spot for, that I return to again and again. And that’s my criteria for what’s included below. This is a sampling of fics that I find myself coming back to, in no particular order. I may come back and add more, because this list is so far from exhaustive. A mix of ratings (marked), so keep that in mind.

Wish I Was the Moon by Like a Dove (T), post-canon: There’s so much that I love about the way this one-shot explores Katara’s character and what she faces post-canon, how she frees herself, strikes out in the world and finds her way home. Her feelings for Zuko, and her inner-conflict around them, are rendered tangibly, both through scene and subtext. A really good example of how an author can show a character’s lack of/journey to self-knowledge without breaking voice.

Refraction by caroes3725 (E), post-canon: When I started reading Zutara fanfic (for me this was in 2020), this was the fic I was looking for—a deep, realistic-to-canon, in-character exploration of how Zutara could unfold after the events of ATLA in a way that gives Katara in particular the arc she deserves. Really well-done development of the Fire Nation court world, well-developed characters, shining dialogue. An amazingly well-worth-it slow burn.

Wildfire by rainstormdragon (E), post-canon: To me this story is kind of a steamy Zutara thesis. The characters are so spot on and alive, their flaws are on full display in a way that feels realistic, and their chemistry is powered by their compatibility—matched in passion and stubbornness, and also in what they want from life. And I think it really gets Aang, too, which is something that can be hard to find in ZK fic. Also really hot, but that's only part of what makes it really shine.

Partners in Learning by evergreenonthehorizon (T), Modern AU: One of the things I love in modern AUs is watching an author weave that invisible string between these characters. Sometimes, it’s by writing narrative arcs that parallel the series, and sometimes it’s by drawing out the personality traits that make the characters both lovable to readers and such a compelling match and watching that spark bloom into flame. This beautifully written story does that so, so well in a really compelling Modern AU setting. Zuko and Katara here are so wonderfully lovable, and it’s a joy to watch them fall for one another, too.

Journeys by Smediterranea (E), Modern AU: In real life, I want to see my friends in relationships with people who can recognize why they’re so particularly amazing. That potential, I think, part of the appeal of ZK as a ship, and that’s part of the special magic of this fic. Watching these two characters get to know one another—really see one another—and fall in love deliciously sweeps the reader up. Plus, really fun, in character cameos from the rest of the Gaang along the way.

Spark, set fire by marijayne (T), Modern AU: literary fanfic, and I mean that in the best way. This story is beautiful and bittersweet, the latter is not often something I seek out in fanfic (where I hide from life), but here it’s gorgeous and worth it. The world building here is really cool—allows the author to explore some of a set of cultural issues/interactions that both echo the ATLA world and ours. The characters are so tenderly drawn (dadko especially)—and the connection between them builds beautifully and tangibly—and the longing is…chef’s kiss. 

Wrong when it's right by nire (T), Book 1 Canon Divergence: Before I read this, I couldn't imagine wanting to read a Book 1 Zutara. After, I wanted more. Bickering, bed-roll sharing, shared heat, tenderness and common ground. A delight from start to finish.

Anyway, thanks for asking and happy reading! <3 And if you want more recs, let me know.

[junkdrawerfics]

Dandelions

Jasper Hale X Reader

Request: If it's not too much to ask, could I request a fic inspired by the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B? Not particular about plot just a lot of fluff if you don't mind. Thank you! @notafraidofstopping876

Word Count: 556

Note: I know this is pretty short, but I felt like it was a cute little scene and I didn't feel right expanding it. So I hope you like it! It was fun to work from a song!

---

“Look! A dandelion!”

Jasper has to hold back a chuckle as you drag him to the edge of the pavement. You stoop down, hand still in his, looking at the little weed in awe. It’s a tiny one, barely grown into the fuzzy little lion it will be, but you’d think it’s a stunningly beautiful flower by how excited you get. Amusement curls in the blond’s chest as he crouches down beside you.

“I love dandelions,” you hum, voice unbearably soft as you lean against him, “I don’t get why people call them weeds. They’re so cute, don’t you think?”

Jasper can’t help but agree, not because he finds the plant to be anything special, but because of you. Your emotions wash over him, a wave of warmth and wonder so intense he could drown in them. You don’t try to hide it either, or care that some students are giving the two of you strange glances. You just look at the little flower, eyes practically glowing with fondness.

You don’t pick the dandelion, though. You just kneel there, chin propped on your knees, humming contently.

“Aren’t you goin’ to make a wish, darlin’?” He asks expectantly.

You shake your head, a kind of knowing smile pulling at your lips, “Nope. I don’t need to.”

You have to bite back a wider grin at the perplexed look that flickers over Jasper’s face. You love when you can surprise the vampire, even in little things like this. He always gives you the same look, brows scrunched, eyes burning with curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly. It makes him look so human, like he hasn’t lived for hundreds of painful years, like he’s just Jasper, the nineteen year old boy who’s trying to figure out what on earth his girlfriend is doing.

“Do you want to know why?” You ask, voice not quite a whisper.

Jasper nods, eyes now narrowed, because of course he does. 

You lean in close, like what you’re about to share is top secret. The blond mirrors you. You take a dramatic pause, eyes sparkling, before finally saying the words you’d been practicing in your head since the moment you laid eyes on the flower.

“I don’t need to make a wish because they already gave me everything I ever wished for.”

It’s like lighting a match. There's a spark of surprise in his eyes before it flickers and warms into something overwhelmingly tender. 

“I wished on hundreds of dandelions for you Jasper Hale,” you finish in a whisper, just for him to hear, “I think it’s someone else’s turn to have their wish come true.”

A genuine smile slants over his lips, soft and lovely and oh, you don’t think your heart can handle it. You feel like you're melting, your pulse fluttering uncontrollably, and you know he can hear it. But Jasper doesn’t tease you like he usually would. He simply lifts your intertwined hands, lips ghosting over your knuckles. 

“You are everythin’ I never even hoped to wish for, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs.

Nevermind that you’re in Forks High parking lot. Nevermind that a dozen people are still watching the two of you with confused expressions. Some loves only come once in a lifetime, and the moment you look into Jasper’s eyes, you know that this is it. 

This is your forever.

[the-badger-mole]

1. Have you always hated Aang? If you can remember, what specific scene really sparked your hatred for his character?

2. Do you ever regret joining the atla fandom and having to fight tooth and nail for a ship? What’s kept you going all this time?

I've never liked Aang, but my hatred didn't start until the post series canon when I saw how for some inexplicable reason Bryke decided to go ahead and continue making Aang the worst main character and punish Katara and the others for it. The fact that they wasted all of that Zutara potential for a relationship that was somehow AS bland as it was toxic is what made me actively hate Kataang. Even though I never shipped it, I could have just ignored it, and lived happily in my fanfic bubble until I saw what they did to my girl. The fact that they stripped Katara in particular of everything that made her so awesome in order to make her and Aang's relationship believable and then unironically defended Aang for being a negligent parent, was what drove me all the way into the Aang is a Villain, Actually camp.

I don't regret joining the ATLA fandom. I have had, and am still having a great time. I'm also not fighting tooth and nail for my ship. I have my opinions and people can take them or leave them. If people get upset, that's got nothing to do with me. That's not my business. My only problem is when they bring their issues to me directly. If they deliberately tag incorrectly, or they jump into my asks, or reblog me, or leave hate comments on my fic, they can get the business until I'm bored with them. And then they can get blocked. I deliberately don't give them any serious answers, too. I don't argue with stupid anymore. I'm also not here to change anyone's minds on Zutara, Aang, or any other thing I mention.

[solisaureus]

how do you write a fic and make it like

long?

ok actually i did give a brief workshop in a fandom server on this once. Here’s the sparknotes:

Stage 1: brainstorming

- decide the topic of your story. write down the idea that sparked your inspiration and start there. this is your core concept from which everything else arises. write down everything that you come up with when thinking about your story, even if you don’t end up incorporating it.

- if you don’t have ideas, most of my fic ideas arise when talking about my fav characters with friends who also love them.

- pin down a few essential aspects of your core concept. is it an AU or canon compliant? ship vs gen? is it going to focus on an overarching plot or a particular character’s personal journey? what ao3 rating do you expect it to be? what trope tags do you think you’ll add?

- make a pinterest board and a playlist for your fic concept. i’m serious this helps you solidify the tone, setting, and mood of your story and can provide more inspiration

Stage 2: outlining

- now that you know what your fic is gonna be about, it’s time to break down the story and make it a complete narrative. Your outline can be as detailed or as bare bones as you want. some writers don’t make an outline at all, but i cannot even begin to comprehend their power, and if you’ve never written a long work before i highly recommend starting with an outline.

- the two most important things to keep in mind during this stage are PACING and STRUCTURE. Characterization is secondary in this stage but still important. Now is the time to establish the setting and the major plot beats.

- decide the narrator, point of view, and tense during this stage

- if you’re stuck for ideas, here’s a cheat for pacing — come up with just 3 things: a goal, a time limit, and stakes. What does your protagonist want to accomplish, how long do they have to do it, and what are the consequences if they don’t achieve it in the time limit? Character A is in love with Character B and wants to be with them (goal), but Character B is moving away at the end of the summer (time limit). Character B risks rejection, and losing their friendship with Character A (stakes). Boom, you already have the skeleton of a story. Try to identify these elements in your favorite stories, it helps you practice this and can give you ideas for your own story. Frodo has to deliver the Ring to Mt. Doom (goal) before Sauron’s armies overwhelm Gondor (time limit) or else the world will fall into shadow (stakes). Obviously, this is just one plot formula among a wide variety and there’s no one right way to write a story, but it can get you started.

- Another way you can start is by detailing some exposition events, some rising actions, a climax, and resolution. If you already have a climactic scene in mind, you just need to figure out how your characters get there and what they do afterwards.

- once your outline is done, you should have a general feel for how long the project will be

Stage 3: drafting

- now it’s time to write the damn thing. sounds simple but it’s not

- practice getting into Da Writing Zone. when it’s time for me to get serious, I have a few video game soundtracks i’ll put on through my noise cancelling headphones, i’ll make myself some tea, and i’ll light a candle. i have basically conditioned myself to write when i hear the journey soundtrack or when i smell my pomegranate candle.

- Each scene that you write should serve a purpose in the overall narrative. I personally determine whether each scene contributes to at least one of the following: worldbuilding, progressing the plot, or characterization. a good scene will accomplish two or even all three.

- consider the voice, whether you’re writing from first or third person. are you telling the story with stern reverence, poetic wonder, snarky indifference? consistency in voice strengthens the story.

- keep suspense in mind, too. you dont want the protagonist to know everything right away — be intentional about what information they learn and when. what the protagonist knows and what the reader knows can differ, too — this is the source of dramatic irony. or you can keep the reader ignorant and have them discover plot elements at the same time as your protag. the intrigue!

- take your time. pace yourself. writing is hard and you don’t have a deadline when it comes to fanfiction. if you’re in a rut, something that i do is that i force myself to write 200 words — if i do that and i’m still not feeling it, i stop there and try again in a few days, but a lot of the time i just keep writing once i get past that hurdle of just starting.

- beginnings are always hard. keep in mind that this is just your draft — whatever you write doesn’t have to be the final version. just start at a point that seems interesting to you.

- as a general rule of thumb, if you’re bored writing something, it’ll be boring to read, too. you may tell yourself that you HAVE to write this dry section about worldbuilding or write how the characters get from one place to another, but do you really? how much would it affect the story if you skipped that? can you approach it another way, or work it in in another scene?

stage 4: editing

- kill your darlings. if something you wrote is out of place or unnecessary for the story, but you like it anyway, get rid of it. save it in another document for outtakes, but don’t give into the idea that a section is valuable just because you spent time on it.

- having a second set of eyes on your draft is a game changer. if you can get a friend (ideally another writer) to beta read your draft and make comments, it can make a huge difference. i always like to thank my beta readers when i post a fic because i appreciate their input so much!

- now is a good time to decide whether you want to post chapters as you write them or write everything first and post it all at once (or on a posting schedule). there are benefits and drawbacks to both but you know yourself best!

- once you are happy with your draft, post it! :)

stage 5: stamina

- writing is hard, and writing a long fic is really hard. even if you’re super passionate about a project when you start it, you will probably lose steam at some point depending on how long it is. at times you will be discouraged and unmotivated. it helps to have a friend who has volunteered to be your designated hype man for this fic. i like to have at least one person who i KNOW is awaiting my next chapter.

- the fact that you don’t get paid for writing fic means you have to balance your writing time with your life and responsibilities. you might have to take a hiatus. coming back to the project after a while can be hard — this is where those pinterest boards and playlists you made back in stage 1 come in. they help get you back into the groove of the story when you’ve lost inspiration!

- when all else fails, try reading books or fanfiction. it counts as writing. words in > words out. bonus points if you journal/leave ao3 comments about things you noticed and enjoyed about it (or, if you didn’t like something, what about it left you dissatisfied. don’t write this in an ao3 comment though keep it to yourself), it genuinely helps you get better at writing. like it makes writing easier

- believe in yourself!!! believe in me who believes in you!!!!

[patchworkgargoyle]

Dudes Kissin' Dudes

So this post broke my writer's block...

Buckle up for a fluffy fic of Eddie thirsting over Steve at the bar after he overhears him tell Robin he's kissed dudes before. Modern AU, aged up, first meeting and first kiss, rated T, 3.1k words! Also posted to ao3!

One of the things Eddie loves about bars is people watching. Some nights he'll just sit at the counter and observe the throngs of people. It’s fun to admire their looks and their clothes and the way they dance, sometimes to make up stories about them in his head about who they are, why they’re here, what they’re in search of. He’s gotten quite a few NPC ideas from it, the occasional character or two. 

The other thing he loves is the buckwild stories he overhears. No one gossips like loose-lipped drunks. He weaves some of those into his campaigns too but mostly he just gets to have a good laugh or a sigh of relief that he’s not living out that particular drama.

The bar Eddie visited tonight was a little further than home from usual, but the queer scene there was always great and there was a live band playing that he’d seen a few times before. He’d heard a few good stories tonight too–a woman walking by exclaiming about some roommate entanglement gone wrong, one person’s aunt having been arrested for an illegal zoo complete with an emu that almost disembowelled a guy and then escaped–so it’d been worth the longer trip.

For now, he sat at the bar nursing his third drink, one elbow propped up as he scrolled through instagram to snoop on whatever his friends were up to and hoping the lull in patrons passes. A couple people had come up to chat, but no one sparked any mutual interest. It was fine, he wasn’t really on the prowl tonight.

Or so he thought.

Two people approached the bar, just one stool’s distance away, and Eddie’s eyes flicked up from his screen on instinct. The one furthest from him, with a dirty blonde bob, wore a bright patterned shirt and suspenders combo that screamed lesbian, to which he gave an internal nod of approval and solidarity, but then her friend pulled up beside her. And oh. Oh, her friend.

In the dim lighting of the room he still somehow shone just a little golden. Mole-flecked, with a strong nose and wide, easy smile. Warm eyes that sloped in a graceful downturn made him look a little soulful. And his swooping brown hair that fell with a touch of deliberate unkemptness that made Eddie want to mess it up, see if it was as soft as it looked, dig his fingers in and pull. He can’t look at the guy’s lips too long or he’ll start imagining things he really ought not to do outside the privacy of his own bedroom.

Unfortunately he also wore the straightest outfit he’d seen all night: khaki shorts and a white and blue striped polo. He would’ve looked right at home at a frat party, even ordered a bland pale ale those types chug right from the keg. Sighing, Eddie returned to his phone. There was no way he’d waste any more energy mooning over a straight man. Of course, that doesn’t mean he won’t eavesdrop.

Settling in, the pair leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. They started to catch up and the woman–Robin, he learns–went on a rambling rant about a needy client at what sounds like her translator job. Apparently the friend’s name was Steve, if Robin’s shouted, “Twenty-five pages in two hours. Two hours, Steve!” was anything to go by. He just listened with encouraging head-nods and appropriately offended gasps as he drank, sometimes surveying the other people mingling or dancing. Eventually, he stopped her with a smack to her shoulder, and pointed with the hand holding the bottle off in a corner.

“What about her?” he asked with an eyebrow wiggle, and Eddie narrowed his eyes as he stared at this guy.

“God, no. She’s way out of my league,” Robin says. Eddie relaxes, glad he’s not about to listen to some dude creep on someone.

“Are you crazy? Robs, leagues don’t exist, for one-”

She cut him off, claiming, “That’s what hot, confident people say to make us awkward ducklings feel better.”

“You’re not an awkward duckling, you’re a very majestic full-grown lady duck. And I bet you twenty bucks that lady duck over there would be thrilled if you crossed this pond to talk to her.”

“Please, for the love of god, never call me or another woman ducks ever again. That’s just weird.”

Sputtering, Steve said, “I was just following the- the metaphor!”

Eddie valiantly contained a snort while Robin rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled back with them. He appreciated the dramatics. But, looking at the woman Steve referred to, Eddie saw his point. He kept it to himself, but he believed in Robin.

Steve levelled a determined look at Robin. “Listen, I’m a phys ed and history teacher, not english, you get what I mean. You could absolutely sweep her off her feet.”

Frowning, with only a tiny bit of a stubborn pout, Robin fussed with the curling corners of the label of her own beer. “Well, what happened to this being girl’s night, huh? If I go home with someone–which I’m not saying I will, dingus– then you’re probably gonna have to hang around the bar all sad and alone and stuff.”

“Honestly, I’d probably go back and watch a movie with Roommate Greg.”

Robin made a face. “Not Greg. I can’t wait until he moves out.” Sighing, she finished her drink, left the bottle on the counter and asked the bartender for another. “I’d feel better if you’d be able to find your own lady duck here, but I think you’d be out of luck. If only you liked kissing dudes too.”

Eddie gave a silent, slightly ironic amen to that statement. But then, as if the gods themselves heard his plea, Steve said something that nearly had Eddie spitting out his drink.

“I mean, I have kissed dudes before.”

Robin went silent as Steve’s head turned to face her, her eyes wide, mouth open. Eddie’s phone screen had enough time to go black as he waited, on the edge of his stool, to learn more about this very handsome Steve kissing dudes sometimes.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you this before, Robs, it’s not that shocking.”

“Apparently you haven’t! I definitely would have remembered if my very straight male friend suddenly confessed to me that he’s ‘kissed dudes,’ plural, to my face,” she said, both hands gesturing wildly. She almost knocked over her refill.

God, Eddie wished he could see Steve’s face now, but he refused to move much in case they both realise he’s desperate to hear what comes next. He couldn’t even look away, he just stared like a weirdo, but he couldn't help it. This was juicier than killer emus. Eddie flat-out refused to acknowledge why, despite the tiny thrum of excitement in his chest.

Shoulders falling with a heavy sigh, Steve shook his head and leaned further into the bar, all too casual for this conversation in Eddie’s opinion. “It’s not that big a deal, jeez. Sometimes, with my old friends-”

“You do not mean Tommy and Carol.” Steve was quiet and Robin’s eyes got even wider. “You do not mean Tommy and Carol!”

“Well, yeah, it’s just. Y’know, when you’re hanging out at a bar and you’re at that happy tipsy point, not drunk, like, you’ve still got all your awareness or whatever, sometimes you just wanna show your friends you’re happy they’re around.”

“By… kissing them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“On the lips?”

The shrug Eddie witnesses is surprisingly easy for the sheer amount of obliviousness Steve was clearly carrying. “Sure. I won’t do it with someone who wouldn’t want it, of course, and after Carol saw me and Tommy do it a few times she’d asked him to stop, so we did, but if you’re confident in your sexuality it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“Steve. You are like my platonic soulmate and brother wrapped into one, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, but you are, on some occasions, extremely dense.”

“Hey,” Steve said, sounding offended, and Robin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean you’re stupid. But sometimes it takes some time for things to click, my guy, and this might be one of them.”

Eddie couldn’t help but agree at least a little, having struggled with his own comphet demons, but even as an out and proud bisexual he certainly never kissed his friends unless he was trying to annoy the shit out of them or they were in a “with-benefits” situation. There were so many more ways to show appreciation than to tenderly kiss your buddies on the mouth.

As Steve started to speak again, someone walked up to the stool between Eddie and Steve, his eyes on Eddie. With a slightly mean grin, swung his foot up onto the stool with a clang and said, “Sorry, waiting for a friend.” The guy left with a judgemental side-eye but Eddie couldn’t care less. When he glanced back at Steve, Robin caught his eye with a confused look, and Eddie quickly unlocked his phone to pretend to be busy, hoping the low lights hid the slight flush in his face. It’s not like he hasn’t been caught doing this before, but in this case Eddie really, really wanted to hear the conclusion to this conversation.

“Let me get this ‘straight,’” Robin began, “you’ve kissed Tommy, on the mouth, multiple times.” Steve nodded. “In front of his girlfriend.” Another nod. “With tongue?”

“No, never with tongue.”

“But like, softly. You’re not mashing your faces together.”

Steve sounded annoyed when he stated, “I know how to kiss, Robin.”

“Humour me.”

“Yes, it was soft.” He’d crossed his arms now, and Eddie had to force his eyes away from Steve’s biceps.

“Did you… enjoy it?” Robin asked, much more gently than the rest of her inquisition. 

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it.”

“I know I’m thoroughly a lesbian but I cannot fathom enjoying kissing Tommy Hagan even if I wasn’t.”

Steve snorts at that and some of the tension leaves his shoulders at the joke. “It’s not just Tommy, though, like I’ve done it with Jonathan, so it’s not just one person.”

Robin’s lips curled inwards like she was biting back something she desperately wanted to say, but wouldn’t. With one long breath in, then out, she said instead, “Okay. So. Two guys you’ve enjoyed kissing.”

“And Argyle. He’s great about it, actually, we kiss all the time.”

“Three. Guys.”

“Guy friends,” Steve clarified, as if that helped anything.

“That’s like this far away from being boy friends.” She held up two fingers that were basically touching, right in Steve’s face, and he swatted her away with a laugh. Taking her hand back, she leaned forward instead, asking, “Have you ever, I dunno, tried kissing a guy who isn’t a friend?”

Something in Eddie’s gut dropped at the question, making room for butterflies that had absolutely no right to be there and needed to vacate immediately. At the same time, a tiny, loud, selfish part of him wanted to raise his hand and yell, “pick me! Please, for the love of everything holy, unholy, and in between, fucking pick me!”

“What? No. That’s rude, I’m not just gonna walk up and kiss a stranger, I’d either be a massive creep or get punched.”

“Not if you ask, and especially not in this bar. You’re allowed to experiment, if you’re open about that.”

Silence lay thickly between them as Eddie watched Steve tilt his head to the side. Like he was actually considering it. He even let out a small “huh” and Eddie felt the seconds slide by like molasses, his own head tilted down at his phone but his eyes fixed on that perfect head of hair just a few feet away. Slowly, Steve turned so his back was to the bar again, and Eddie saw those puppy dog eyes glancing over the other patrons.

“Have you even seen anyone checking me out, though?” Steve asked.

Robin stared right at Eddie, and he swore his heart stopped. Oh fuck. “Probably the guy who’s been looking at you like you’re his last meal on death row all night.”

Oh fuck.

Twisting, Steve finally noticed Eddie. If his heart had stopped when Robin completely caught him out, it started back up again at a rabbit-fast pace, blood rushing straight to Eddie’s cheeks and ears, staining them bright red. Having the full force of Steve’s gaze on him was equal parts awful and wonderful and deeply fucking embarrassing. It was worse when Steve started looking him up and down, eyes tracing a languid path down Eddie’s body and along the leg still resting on the spare stool.

He knows what he looks like, and it’s nothing like Steve. Lankier, dressed in all black and ripped denim. Eddie had just enough self-esteem to acknowledge he could attract a few people with his long curls and dark, intense eyes, but not enough to think that this guy right here, seemingly checking him out, would find anything all that appealing. And yet.

“Hey,” Steve said when he got back to Eddie’s face, all calm confidence.

“H-howdy,” Eddie squeaked, zero charm to be found.

“I’m Steve.”

“I’m Eddie,” he said with slightly more vocal control, and the slight smile that brought to Steve’s face could spawn entire hair metal ballads.

Steve readjusted so he actually faced Eddie, and Robin leaned on his back, peering over it with a conniving little smirk. “So I guess you heard all that,” he said, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh you totally did,” Robin said, grinning.

Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but all that did was make Steve chuckle. It wasn’t even a mean chuckle, he sounded amused, like they were all in on a joke instead of justifiably pissed that a stranger had heard their entire private conversation. Robin, also laughing, pushed off of Steve with a pat to the back and a “good luck,” walked off towards the dance floor. Eddie watched her leave with only a little bit of malice.

“So what do you think?”

His head whipped back to Steve, who’d stepped a bit closer. One of the track lights above highlighted the natural tan to Steve’s skin. Eddie bet he’d look stunning with a bit of glitter on his cheeks. “What?”

“About experimenting, dude,” Steve laughed, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I won’t push. I’m not a shitty person.”

“And you’re just. Okay with this.” He couldn’t help waving a hand between them with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” Steve’s arms were crossed again, making some frayed wires spark in Eddie’s poor, overwhelmed brain as he took in Steve’s patient, friendly smile. His lips made this adorable wide v-shape like that, and whatever remaining restraints held Eddie back from this idea swiftly dissolved at the idea that he could kiss that smile away, even if only for a moment. Even if he knew he’d probably think about it for a year, or, likely, more.

With a sharp exhale, Eddie said, “Fuck it. Yeah. Let’s do it.” He stood, finding he was more or less as tall as Steve, and dredged up every ounce of bravado he could manage. “Any time you wanna stop, you stop, ‘kay? I’ll back off.” He paused to lean closer, glanced down at Steve’s lips with all the hunger he’d been fighting off all night, then back up for effect. “But don’t blame me if I rock your world.”

“You’re a dork,” Steve teased but, if Eddie wasn’t imagining things, he sounded just a little breathless.

Eddie closed the distance. Instead of getting right to kissing, he gently nudged Steve’s nose with his own, ghosting his full lips over Steve’s and earning a tiny, frustrated huff, and finally, with a smile, Eddie dove in for a kiss. It was soft, like he imagined Steve giving all those other guys, and intentionally short. Eddie pulled away a smidge, only to find Steve chasing after him, his broad hands grasping Eddie’s belt loops and yanking their hips closer.

Their kisses grew more fervent. Hands roaming, Eddie got his wish and buried his fingers into that silky soft hair, his other hand cupping the small of Steve’s back and bringing them flush together. He could feel the small groan in Steve’s chest when Eddie pulled his hair just the right side of too hard and gave a short laugh. Steve swallowed it, drew his tongue over Eddie’s lips in a question Eddie answered by letting him lick his way inside. Fuck, Steve really did know how to kiss.

A push, and Steve was pressed into the bartop, his hands slipping to Eddie’s ass and kneading while Eddie had him pinned. He could feel Steve getting hard in his preppy little shorts, felt it against his own hardness and couldn’t help but grind into it, both of them moaning low into each other’s mouths as their kisses grew hungrier, sloppier. 

Neither of them remembered where they were until hands slapped both of their shoulders and they jolted apart, pupil blown and lips pink.

“Welp, looks like you figured your shit out, dingus. I’m heading home with Chrissy here,” Robin wiggled her and the woman that was apparently Chrissy’s hands in the air between them all, Chrissy giving a little giggle.

“Hey, I knew I was right about the lady duck!” Steve said, still clinging to Eddie, and Robin groaned.

“Yeah, and I was right that it’s not straight to enjoy kissing your guy friends. Have fun, be safe, make good choices, give me the address of wherever you’re going,” she said, turning to leave, but glanced back. “Also, nice to meet you Eddie. I’ll probably see you around.”

Eddie snorted but waved goodbye before turning his attention to the handsome man he still had trapped against the bar. Steve was already looking at him with a mix of heated desire and genuine interest that bolstered Eddie’s ego considerably. “How would you say your experiment went, big boy?” he asked despite still being able to feel the results between them.

“Pretty good I think.” Steve’s hands wandered up under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, making his shiver. Shit. He wanted those hands everywhere immediately. “Wouldn’t mind a few more test runs though. Gotta follow the, uh, scientific method.”

“Of course, of course. We definitely need to see if the results can be replicated.” As he spoke, Eddie started to trail light kisses along Steve’s jaw, then down his neck.

“Fuck yes.”

P.S. If you got this far and liked this trope, but want something a little 👀spicier👀 may I recommend greatest hits by @/scarcrossdlvrs? (I didn't wanna tag you bc I didn't wanna force you to read this just to see why you were tagged! xD ) Enjoy!!

[finitepeace]

LAST MONTH I READ DRAMIONE

On April I read Dramione. Here are the fics I’ve finished. Personal favorites are marked with  ✿

Long Ones: 

Alternate History by Furare | 155k words | it’s dramione but i feel the ‘slytherin harry’, ‘snape and sirius happy’ and ‘draco’s found family’ elements are more prominent

Capstone by bek_48 | 112k words | read this from collection titled: underrated dramione | Sixth year canon divergence but like.. really diverging. well-written friendships and probably my favorite lucius writing ever <even if he just appeared for like.. 2 seconds lol>

Ghost of You by happy_valley | 105k | in which draco malfoy died and turned into a ghost which only hermione can see. or is he?

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale | 237k| post-war dramione tragedy with happy ending. it has two story arc: (1) dramione secret relationship and how it led to draco losing his magic after war + hermione falling out with ron and harry. (2) the granger-malfoy children wreck havock on wizarding (+house elves) community.

Remember Us As War (but call us forgiveness) by Anyaparadox  | 168k | dramione and marriage law 

✿ The Fixer-Upper Club by CharliPetidei | 160k words | 8th year AU, dramione coping with PTSD through fixing hogwarts

Medium length ones: 

Behind the Mask by EmilieJane | 46k | Beauty and The Beast with a twist. TW: Domestic violence, mention of rape, etc. Ron-bashing. 

✿ Instruments of Time by i_know_what_you_wrote_last_summer | 71k words | 3rd year AU because draco accidentally time traveling

✿ Curses, Banter, and Babies, Oh My! by LiloLilyAnn | 79k words | dramione having a child together first, work out their feelings second

Signed and Sealed by niffizzle | 26k | book shop keeper hermione, widowed single father draco

 ✿ The Watergaw by ectoheart, smokybaltic | 39k | dramione stuck together after a failed apparition, a detour on the deathly hallows mansion scene. 

Escapism by sodamnrad | 15k |  Reunited in the Muggle world, Draco and Hermione wreak havoc on each other’s loneliness.

Rebonded by niffizzle | 11k | dramione and ritual to fix draco’s wand <literally>

Kissed by Fire by niffizzle | 14k | Azkaban was a freezing fortress in the middle of the North Sea that devoid all prisoners of warmth. Or so Draco was told. The howling winds never bothered him. Nor the supposed chill emitting from the stone walls.He hadn’t felt cold since a lick of Fiendfyre scarred his flesh.

Short Ones: 

✿ Only you – Or the only time Hermione believed in divination by FedonCiadale | 5k words | CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE 

Surprise Soulmates by FedonCiadale | 6,2k | post hogwarts, In which Draco and Hermione discover they are soulmates OR Draco is a drama queen and looks guilty as fuck and Hermione tries to be rational about it all

Common Spaces, Empty Places by elithien, senlinyu | 3,4k words | eighth year dramione, confessions. 

Can't Get Any Better Than This by augustr | 1,4k words | 8th year, dramione being soft

Between Pages by DarkoftheMoon | 5,6k words| penpal dramione throughout their times at hogwarts

The Best Christmas Present Ever By: Proxima Shining | 9,8k l grandparents lucius & narcissa + family reconciliation 

10 Things I Learnt About You by nyle_bd | 4k words |   It's Parent's Day at Hogwarts and Professor Granger can't keep her eyes off a particular parent. Sparks fly and burn into something brighter.

Worse Things by niffizzle | 2k |  In the midst of Ginny and Blaise's engagement party, Hermione is busy dealing with a bitter Ron. That is until they're interrupted by the soon-to-be Best Man.

✿ The Hour After by niffizzle | 2k | post battle meet up 

With Teeth by provocative_envy |  5k | humor, dramione hunting horcrux(es) 

a bunch of dramione in secret relationship

✿ If/Then by Santhe | 5k words

I Know, I Know by nevertoosweets | 2k words

the one time they stayed by quitethesardonic | 6,9k words

Forgot to Mention by wetpretzel | 5,7k words

Tied in Lies by niffizzle | 3k

✿ Forgotten by niffizzle | 2k 

not a dramione but I think everyone would love this Draco:  

✿  the dogfather by hollimichele | 47k | What if the Dursleys rejected Harry after he was left on their doorstep? canon divergence in which the adults in HP are much more responsible than the one in canon | sirius x lupin but mostly sirius as harry’s godfather. 

part of the dogfather au, there’s one focused on draco and it’s so lovely (and heartbreaking but hopeful)

[foibles-fables]

Fic Author Self-Rec!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thanks for the tag, @xthescarletbitch!!!

Here's a list of five of my (current, momentary) most highly-favored children, in no particular order:

entering light (Horizon, T) - an exploration of Aloy adjusting to new motherhood, and all of the fear and joy that comes with it. This one was in the works for a long time--like, years--and after everything I'm pretty pleased with how it came out.

show me the world as it could be (Horizon, Aloy/Talanah, E) - close-POV, pre-Nemesis smut with feelings. Another one that sat in my WIPs for quite a while, waiting for the right time to flourish. Pretty proud of this one mostly for my own perseverance.

rest like you belong here. (Horizon, Aloy/Talanah, T) - a missing scene from HZD in which hurt/comfort and gay subtext abound. This was my first Hawk and Thrush fic ever, and it still holds a super special place in my heart. It's fun to see how far I've come since then--and it was really rewarding to dive into Aloy's head right as she's on the precipice of allowing her own vulnerabilities to be seen and addressed.

dream geometries (Control, Jesse/Emily, T) - my first fic for these two, and hopefully not the last! A quick and intimidating dip into the liminality and weirdness that makes this franchise so cool. I was pretty pleased with how this brief piece turned out!

gray areas and expectations (Horizon, Aloy/Talanah, M) - an exploration of intimate vulnerability and Aloy's character via endearingly awkward sexual content. Started as a joke post on discord, sparked itself into a concept I come back to time and time again.

TAGGING: @finrays @tjerra14 @mehoymalloy @maybirdie @souls-that-have-senses and anyone else who sees this and would like to participate! just claim me as your tagger--spread the love!

[romirola]

Hey Romi~ 💚💖 hope you had a a nice, chill weekend 😁

For the behind-the-scenes fic asks, I'd like to ask 7, 14, 17 and 26 for your Mill/Sweetheart fic, Job Well Done.

7. What inspired the idea for the plot?

14. My favorite line from this fic was [Rather than say anything, I closed my hand around theirs, brought it to my lips, and kissed gently. What they saw as a deadly weapon I saw as a genuine treasure.] What inspired it?

17. What was the hardest scene to write?

26. Wild Card! I'll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

Thank you for this ask, @pinksparkl!

Ask game here. Still open!

I'm so excited to have the chance to talk about "Job Well Done"!

7. What inspired the idea for the plot?

A little bit of a mix of things! For one thing, it felt like both Milo and Sweetheart needed to have a moment of developing this kind of deep trust sometime during the beginning of their relationship. Milo needs to know he can handle helping Sweetheart in this context, and Sweetheart needs to know that sometimes, it's okay to need help. More abstractly, I found myself ruminating on what it means to take responsibility, and how that can mean having to do things we don't always want to do. Sometimes, there's just no way around it. There's no alternative. There's no riddle to solve to create a win-win scenario. Sometimes, the roles we take on and the responsibilities that come with those roles are simply necessary and difficult.

14. My favorite line from this fic was [Rather than say anything, I closed my hand around theirs, brought it to my lips, and kissed gently. What they saw as a deadly weapon I saw as a genuine treasure.] What inspired it?

Ahh, thank you for having a favorite line! Writing in Milo's POV means that I had to embody his mindset, and that meant delineating between Sweetheart's sense of self and his sense of them. I think that contrast alone makes for some wonderful character reflection and internal conflict.

17. What was the hardest scene to write?

This fic is all one scene, so that makes this question easy. The one scene! I will say that fitting the story into one scene was a challenge, because that meant I had to explore Milo's thoughts as a means of adding drama.

26. Wild Card! I'll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

I really enjoy the idea that, second to their stealth specialty, Sweetheart has a particular affinity for electro-energy. They have a natural spark. Sure, they have a command over the magical spectrum after they earned their full certification, but even so, they'd certainly develop preferences and/or have certain magical variations come easier to them than others.

[boredandwiredkitty]

Listening to old favorite songs and getting some inspiration to write again.

For the longest time ever and and still a bit now I've been into omegaverse. Found some of my favorite kinks from it. Im a little ashamed to admit. I always wanted to incorporate it into some of my own fics and have made a few but I have yet to publish any of them. Maybe I will after this one.

I also highly recommend listening to the song as you read my little drabble. You don't have to but it might help you see the headspace I went in while writing. I really wanted to explore a bit more of the feral side of wheeljack. What if you both tried to deny what you both wanted. That push and pull. It all began as one scene in my head and the song morphed it into the whole fic that you see.

This is part one since I accidentally made it too damn long of a two part story

As always Minors DNI! This is a 18+ rated fic with NSFW! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

This fic does contain most omegaverse themes so if you're adverse to that this might not be for you.

Reader is AFAB if you're wondering.

Heavy panting and heavy footfalls were the only things you could hear over your pounding spark.

Stuck again in the same dream that you get time to time. You were always running. You weren't quite sure why. Was it to something? Was it from something? Was it both? Only the pull in your chest urged you forward. Unsure if it was fear or inclination.

Just as you were about to stop and turn to see if something was behind you the rug was pulled from under you. Abruptly feeling the sensation of falling.

You awoke with a jolt. Clutching the bed underneath you confirming your stability. You were not falling nor needing to run. Everything's fine.

Sort of.

You only got that dream periodically. Right around every time your body goes through a particular change.

The limiters were off and all hell was about to break loose.

As familiar symptoms began to creep throughout your frame trepidation mixed with it.

You couldn't calm your rapid spark as your internal temp was faintly yet steadily rising. The damn dream was always a warning. A premonition of sorts.

"Please dont" You murmured to yourself. Though it was futile. You didn't know how to stop it once it was set in motion. Especially without outside help.

But who were you going to ask? With such sensitive information no less? Was there anyone you trusted enough to ask for help from? Let alone even know HOW to help you?

It was the early hours of morning before the world seemed to wake up. Dawn had yet to break over the horizon. It wasn't much time but just enough to either find help or put enough distance between yourself and a certain other.

You weakly swung your legs over the side of the bed. Becoming even more aware of your incoming heat. You even wondered if it was coming too fast.

Did shockwave have something to do with this?

The first couple of times this happened was back in shockwaves lab. Every time you started showing noticeable signs he would quickly administer some sort of drug and it would seem to vanish without a trace.

The first time it happened you were obviously concerned and immediately went to the scientist with complaints of your new alarming symptoms. The uncomfortable warmth paired with mental fog and a strange urge that burned through your body. The urge to go looking for someone so strong it overpowered everything else. You didn't know who or what but you felt like you had to find what your body needed so desperately. A feeling like you absolutely depended on it for survival.

The unconcerned tank mech only stared at you in response with his one glaring red optic when you approached him that day. Only to turn silently and cluncked to a place in the lab to began working on something. Not bothering to utter a single word to you. Not too long after he arrived with a needle loaded up what you guessed was more energon mixed with something else due to its ever so slight opaqueness.

You squirmed and questioned how he couldn't just make it into something you could drink.

"This is more effective. Injecting it directly into your bloodstream will nullify your heat immediately."

"Heat?" You asked him incredulously as he pushed the plunger carefully.

"Yes. It seems are you are beginning your first heat cycle. No matter, I have made a temporary cure for your cycle and you shall be back to normal operation in a moment."

You winced as the fluid entered your body. You hated the invasive cold feeling of liquid forcefully entering your veins. "Will it be gone permanently?"

"No. It will only prevent symptoms this cycle. Do not worry. Your systems are still functional. You just are no longer under the affects."

"Great to hear." You stated sarcastically as he moved away to go back to his current project. He was looking at a strand of CNA next to a strand of human DNA. Probably another part of your cyberformation project.

After that every heat you had; depending on how quickly your symptoms set in; he would either give you the injection or a ingestable variation. You hated the injections but you had to admit it was much nicer that relief was almost instant. The medicine would take much longer and sometimes waiting for the symptoms to dissappear was unbearable. You would not let yourself drop to degrading levels around the emotionless logic fueled scientist. You would rather die before it got to that point.

Now you sat up in the darkness of your room back at autobot headquarters. Without shockwave or any medication to get through this.

You wanted to ask ratchet for help but you didn't know if he had anything to help you or even knew how to make it. Given your circumstances it was probably only shockwave that knew.

Ratchet knew of your technorganic body but he was still learning of all its ins and outs. It was only fairly recently that you showed him shockwaves handiwork. You were patient as he would carefully examine you and run different tests to see the extent of the cyberformation. But you doubted if he knew anything about your current predicament.

You stiffly got up. There's no harm at trying.

You walked out in the dimness of the base and found the medic looking over some files.

"Hey ratchet." You quietly called out to him careful not to startle the poor older mech.

His helm quickly turned to you noticing your weary looking frame. "What are you doing up?"

You suddenly felt bashful. "I um." You squirmed under his worried gaze. "I'm getting my heat cycle. And I'm hoping you could help me."

The flush over his face made you realize you should've been more clear. "I do not think I would be the right mech for such a task. Why don't you ask w-" He began before you cut him off from saying his name.

"Nonono! That's not what I'm saying. Can you give me some medicine to alleviate the symptoms?!" You exclaimed while waving your arms frantically in front of you.

"You want me to make a medicine?" He queried.

"Yes. That's what I meant," You confirmed back.

Ratchet stood there in deep thought for a moment. Murmuring to himself before looking back up at you.

"I'd hate to ask but what would shockwave do when this would happen? Or is this the first time?"

You shook your head. "Shockwave had different remedies. Sometimes it was an injection. Sometimes it was a medicine that I would drink. It depended on how bad the symptoms were." You told him truthfully. Hopeful he would find something.

"What exactly are your symptoms?"

Your eyes darkened. What a unpleasant question.

While you spent your time here you noticed something you never would've back at the lab. Something you would only have realized once EXPOSED to it.

The mech that plagued you. That you were injected with their energon. Repeatedly. Invading your veins to begin the cyberforming process. Their biomatter mixed with yours. How your body called out to theirs as if they were a homing beacon. You were a moth and they were the flame.

You took a deep breath. Attempting to calm your fretful spark. Trying to figure out how to tell him. "I start to feel a bit feverish." You began and ratchet nodded at you in acknowledgement. Silently urging you to keep going. "I get mental fog. My body feels a bit weaker than usual," You continued. Watching as ratchet was listening intently to every word you said.

Ratchet gazed at you probingly as you stopped listing anything else. "Is that all? Are you sure you're not having any other symptoms than that? Because if that were the case it could be something else besides a heat cycle."

You scowled. "No" you grumbled. Feeling defeated at confessing this out loud.

You raised your head to look ratchet better in the optics. "I get the most desperate and embarrassing URGE for a certain autobot."

You watched his optics widen a bit. "Who is it?"

You bit your lip as you felt a sudden tug in your spark. "Who do you think?" You snapped defensively.

Ratchet nodded in understanding. "I'll see what I can do but I cannot guarantee that I will have anything ready by the time you fully get your heat. In that case what do you want me to do?" His voice was professional. Like any medical practitioner.

"Send me away." You quickly spoke with a sweep of your arm. "Just get me out of here before something happens! I don't care where. Hell, inject me with whatever concoction you come up with! Anything to stop this heat from happening! I'll even drink the nastiest medicine you make!"

Ratchet jolted back aghast. "Are you sure that's what you want? Do you not want to try anything else?"

You nodded solemnly, "What other choice do I have? I don't want to inflict my heat on anyone else."

"Has it affected anyone before?"

You wrinkled your nose in thought. "Not that I'm aware. It never really seemed to bother shockwave. But that mech is rather stoic so it's hard to tell. Maybe the vehicons if I'm further in my heat but I'm usually isolated from most others."

Ratchet turned to start typing on his console. "That could either be because either you don't produce pheromones to attract other bots or.." He trailed off as he typed. Then looking over at the exit of the hangar. "That you affect only ONE mech. Given your symptoms that you described."

You choked on your spit and deadpanned. Currently the said mech was out on a mission. But when they come back what will happen? Will he be unaffected or completely taken over and forced into rut? Was that something you wanted to take chances on? It was getting harder to tell as clouded thoughts started to flit through your mind. Maybe it would be interesting to see if he would react. But what then?...

"If you wish to stay somewhere else after they get back I'll be sure to move you before letting them return to base."

You nodded politely. "That would be preferable thank you."

With that ratchet extended a servo to which you climbed on as he took you to his medical work station.

You tried not to put up much of a fuss as he did various scans. Typing different things on his monitor.

"Will you be adverse to me taking an energon sample?" He asked gently.

You made a face. You hated injections and getting fluids drawn. "I'd prefer if you didnt." You grumbled honestly.

"Unfortunately it would be much harder to get an accurate suppressant made if I don't get all the information that is stored in your genetic makeup."

You grimaced. Aka he needed your blood. If he didn't have it it would be as useful as taking a shot in the dark. You really wanted to avoid needles as much as possible though.

Ratchet sensed your unease. Being shockwaves captive is no joke. He didn't want to think about what that mech put you through. "Don't worry. I'll apply the techniques that nurse Darby taught me in case I ever had to help with the kids."

He then activated his holoform and brought out a small kit for drawing blood. "I'll try to make this as painless as possible."

You tried to be still and not fight ratchet so much but you couldn't help but flinch away when he brought the needle close to your arm.

"Why don't I turn on the TV so you have something to distract yourself." He asked you gently while moving the needle away.

You tried to sit up straighter. "I don't know. I'm not used to having a distraction. I don't know if it will work."

"Here." Ratchet then removed his holoform and picked you up. Placing you on the couch and turned on the TV. Setting it to a low enough volume. "Do you want to talk about anything?"

You now we're settled next to ratchets holoform again as you faced the TV on the couch they had for the kids. Some early morning cartoons were playing that you remember seeing as a kid and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. A sense of familiarity as you stared at the screen.

"It's kinda hard to find anything to talk about anything right now." You gave a light chuckle. "The brain fog is slowly taking over." You confessed still focused on the TV.

"Is it bad?" He asked as he carefully pierced your skin with the needle and watched you wince.

You shook your head. "Not that bad yet. But I bet it's only going to get worse."

"Probably." Ratchet agreed as he continued focusing on drawing your energon mixed blood. "But I will do my best to prevent it."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"You're very welcome." He told you with a smile. "How are you feeling besides the heat? Any issues with the cyberforming?"

"None that I'm aware." You stated. Glancing over to look at him for a moment. Doing your best to not look down at what was happening with your arm.

"Well while I have a sample I'll be running some tests to make sure everything is doing alright. I'll probably have June look over at your panels as well."

"Sounds good" You told him. Noticing how he was already moving to stand up. "Done already?" You asked incredulously.

"Yep. Already got enough samples for testing. You're good to go."

Samples? As in plural? You looked down at your arm and saw a little bandaid, then to his hand where he held five vials of your mixed blood.

"No way!" You whispered in astonishment. Reaching out to hold one of the warm vials in your hand. "This is so trippy." You laughed as you lifted it up to examine it closer. Trying to use the light from the TV to see through the vial.

"Wasn't too bad was it?" Ratchet asked as you handed him back the vial.

"No you did good. But I wonder if me going into heat is particularly to blame. I think I'm starting to go mentally numb to my surroundings."

"I'm going to go start running the tests. You can sit here for now. Let me know if the symptoms get worse or if you need anything."

You nodded and watched as he left. You couldn't help but wonder why you didn't feel anything with anyone else. There was no pull. No longing. No lust. Nothing. Which you were thankful for. But you felt nervous how bad it would get with HIM in proximity while you were going into heat. His lingering scent was already making you feel the warmth between your legs.

"Maybe I will ask smokescreen to take me out somewhere to keep me out of the base." You mumbled to yourself. He was a good and trusted friend. With that thought and uncomfortable feeling coiled in your gut. Like the thought of being alone with someone else repulsed you. Which made no sense since you were fine being alone with ratchet. Maybe because the scenario is different?

You couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was getting harder to think deeply. So you just relaxed as you started to watch the next show that played. Numbing your mind to everything but the screen infront of you.

As you went through different episodes the more you felt the warmth radiating from your body. Did your spark always sound this loud? What were you doing again?

You moved to stand up but then remembered you were waiting on ratchet. How much longer till he would be done? How long do normal cybertronian heats last? How long does it usually take for symptoms to get bad?

You were about to call out to him to ask when you realized he had already been calling your name.

You blinked at him. "Um, yes?" You asked stupidly.

"They are requesting to return to base. Do you want to go somewhere real quick?"

Your mind lagged. Go?... Go where? Where will you go? Making a decision felt difficult.

Your mouth fell open but no words came to mind. "I dont....." you trailed off. You couldn't think. All you could think about was how uncomfortable you felt and how your clothes felt too warm. You wanted to cool off. A cold shower sounded nice right now.

"Shower" You told him.

Ratchet looked at you incredulously. "What?.. nevermind," Ratchet sighed shaking his helm. it seemed your heat was coming on faster than expected. It was only a matter of time before you would be incoherent. He needed to find somewhere for you to stay in the meantime. but housing a technorganic in heat would be no easy feat. Considering this would be your first time fully going into heat. Who knows how your body would handle it. He wanted to keep you close by to check on you. Since it was obvious you weren't producing any pheromones that affected him. He was your physician and he wanted to help in any way he could.

He quickly picked you up and activated the ground bridge. Rushing you out to the barracks to get washed up. Maybe a hygiene ritual will help cool your symptoms. Even if for a bit. At the very least it would dampen the intensity of your pheromones for short amount of time.

He set you down. "Let me know if you need anything else. I will have Fowler be helping you." And with that he swiftly dissapeared back to the hangar.

You blinked as you just staired at the direction he went. Your mind trying to keep up. What just happened?

You shook your head and slapped your cheeks. Trying to regain your senses.

Shower. You were here to shower.

You went inside and found a stall. Pulling the curtain you stripped your clothes and hung them on the divider wall. Maybe a shower will help. You could only wish silently to yourself as you turned the knob.

Back at base ratchet arrived as everyone was stepping through the bridge. First Magnus strutted in. Looking completely unaffected followed by smokescreen who also seemed completely unaware of any potential pheromones in the air. Leaving ratchet to muse that maybe his hypothesis was right.

It was when wheeljack walked through he staggered. Seeming to be completely thrown off the moment he entered the base. With bulkhead looking over at him concerned.

"Whoa Jackie. You alright?"

The white wrecker blinked in a daze before coming to his senses. "Yeah. I'm alright."

Ratchet could only hum in thought. So he WAS right. You could only affect wheeljack. So all he had to do was keep you both separated. Since that seemed to be your wish.

Wheeljack spotted the medic seeming to be in deep though and walked over. "Whatcha working on?" He couldn't help but notice the closer he got the stronger the smell. Was it ratchet? He had to wonder and find out for himself.

"I'm just going over (name)'s charts."

He looked at the screen to see a strand of CNA mixed with DNA along with another strand of CNA next to it. "Is something wrong?" He couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

"No nothings wrong per se. Just looking over some things for her since she asked." Ratchet stated while typing on the screen before turning to the wrecker. "Why? Is something the matter?"

Wheeljack looked caught off guard again. "Nah its just..." He paused for a brief moment. Thinking of what to say. "It's nothing. Just wondering." He then looked around. "Is (name) around?"

"She just went out. She will be back later." He stated and turned back to his work. The faster he can make the suppressant the faster your symptoms will dissappear. As well as your pheromones.

Ratchet didn't even realize wheeljack was halfway out the door before he frantically called back to him. "And where do you think you're going?!"

"Just out for a moment. I'll be back." He stated without turning around. Causing poor ratchet to bristle over his flippant retort.

"I need you to stay here for the time being. The others may require backup." Ratchet snipped

"Awe c'mon doc. I just got here. Don't tell me you're going to send me out again." He complained loudly. He was desperate to see if you were the source of those enticing pheromones.

"I just might now get back here!" The medic snapped at the white mech. "And stop calling me doc!"

You were standing there just letting the water drum over you. The coolness seeping into your skin. The running water helped with the uncomfortable warmth you felt but it didn't help the thick fog your mind was swimming through or the absolute urge to go looking for the mech that your body was calling out for.

You rested your head against the cool tiles of the stall. You wanted these symptoms to go away. If only you were back at shockwaves lab. He would administer the shot without a second thought. You should've grabbed some medicine before you escaped. You figured if the scientist felt emotions he would be laughing at your predicament right now. Or maybe. This is exactly what he wanted. But why?

Subconsciously your hand had found itself between your legs. Fingers sliding inside the place that ached as your mind wondered to your wrecker. Your fingers didn't offer much but the thoughts of it being him helped. A stifled moan caught in your throat when you heard a sound outside and decided you were in there long enough. It not like you weren't in the desert right now or anything and that water was not usually something of abundance. Nor should you be entertaining such dangerous ideas.

You lamented on how the coolness quickly left your body and struggled to dry off and redress.

You left the showers to find Fowler waiting for you. "Ratchet informed me you weren't feeling right and had me look over you for the time being. Is there anything you need?"

"Something cool. Or maybe a nap." Or maybe a third that shall not be mentioned.

"Would you like me or one of the bots to take you into town to get some ice cream then?

Your eyes lit up for a second as a certain wrecker crossed your mind before you quickly dismissed that thought.

"I'm not sure." You told him truthfully.

You didn't know what you wanted. Nothing sounded appealing to you. All except for the carnal urge to find the white lancia and make him yours. To sink your teeth into him. Intertwine your body with his. To feel his spark beat against yours. But such an intimately deep and primal urge scared you. You were scared of the unknowns. You were still intigrating yourself into team prime. Slowly becoming comfortable with everyone around you. Being thrust into a situation like this was alarming.

"I'll just hang out in a different hanger and try to get some rest." You told him. All in all you didn't feel like being around anyone. Well all except one mech. But you weren't ready for that. You were starting to remember him better. Rekindle your close friendship. Such a commitment was not something to take lightly. You would do your best not to give in.

You ended up at an adjacent hangar and the others were polite enough to lend you an office to crash in. They even were kind enough to lend you a pillow. Once you seemed settled in enough on the small couch Fowler left to go back to his own office.

"If you need anything just give me a call." Fowler told you before leaving.

You hummed in acknowledgement and watched him dissappear from the doorway. Closing the door behind himself. Leaving you by yourself with your thoughts all over again.

You wanted to rest. Even with the malaise wearing down your body you wouldn't be able to relax. Not with the desire to seek out relief plaguing your hazed mind. Picking and nagging at you. But you wouldn't be caught dead pleasuring yourself in public like this.

You laid there for what felt like hours. Trying menial mental tests to keep you sane. You feared the moment you slipped up you would lose control. But as time ticked by your mental awareness shrank to next to nothing. Even your short term memory started to fail. It was getting to the point you would get up to leave. Only to stop yourself when you remembered just WHY you placed yourself into quarantine to begin with. Then found yourself pacing as you battled your own body. It felt like chains were constricting your body. Hot, heavy, and extremely uncomfortable. All with that mech on the other end tugging at you to come closer.

You didn't want to be caged up any longer. You've had enough of that back with the decepticons. The air was too stuffy. It was getting harder to breathe. You were sure soon the walls were going to start closing in on you.

You walked out to notice that the hangar was vacant. All military personnel had already left for the most part. How long were you in that office? Was it already night? There's no way. You stepped out and felt unease wash over you. It was uncomfortably quiet. You had gotten used to the hustle and bustle of hangar E. How there was at least one living being in the hangar at all times.

You left the hangar quickly. Not wanting to stay there much longer. The silence was suffocating.

What you weren't expecting was finding yourself wandering mindlessly over to the outside of hangar E. It was dark outside but like usual inside the hangar it was relatively lit. You wanted that familiarity. Something about it was calling you. Or maybe it was your instincts. It was getting harder to tell. You didn't even know what you were doing or why you were even there in the first place. Your self controll must really be slipping now.

You shook your head. You wanted to ask ratchet but thought better than to just waltz right in. You needed to go back before making a mistake. Turning to trudge back to the hangar you found yourself unable to take a single step. You would go back; Only that you had to conveniently forget which one you had actually stayed in.

Fuck.

You wanted to cry in frustration. What were you even doing? Where were you? Why were you still so freaking warm. And where was ratchet with your suppressant. "Just hurry up with the damn suppressant already!" You cried out to no one in particular. Well no one in earshot. At least that's what you thought.

The scent. Oh Primus the scent that started filtering into your nose. It made you feel weaker. it made the heat of desire burn hotter, stronger, heavier. A vice tightening with every vent. Like a starved animal. It clouded everything out of your mind. You turned around and was met with the sight of wheeljack standing just outside hangar E.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something you clamped your hand around it. No! Don't draw him closer. If you do you will lose the very shred of self control you had left.

He spotted you and began to make his way to you.

At first you stumbled towards him. Drunk off of his scent. It coaxing you sweetly while pulling you in. Calling to you. Beconing. Only for you to regain your senses enough to run.

And run you did.

To be continued...

Part two

[mistle10]

Scenes from an Omega's first time | Mallerollo one shot

Pairings: Malleus Draconia/Rollo Flamm

Rating: 🔞🔞🔞

Word count: 2.3k

Content: first time, awkwardness, fluff and smut, omegaverse, omega malleus, alpha rollo, theyre boyfriends, post flower incident, mallerollo, theyre both virgins figuring it out, malleus is shitty at nest building. have you ever seen those pics of the really bad pigeon nests? Its like that

Summary:

"On the other side of the bookshelf, a familiar scent brushed by Malleus’s nose. Almost like clockwork, he felt his face get hot. Who would have guessed that the prince was so easily undone that the mere scent of his boyfriend would send him over the edge?"

__________________☆___________________

Fic under the break!

It hadn't been a very good idea, in hindsight. Traveling to this school, while his heat was so close. Malleus had assumed he would have time, but then again, the fae had only started getting them months ago. He had no clue about his body's natural cycle yet, since he had only just reached the proper height. (This is how lizards work). It was far too embarrassing to talk about with his guardian, so he only did research on his own, but it was so easy to get distracted. While looking for books about heats, H is right next to G, which is the first letter in Gargoyle, which means the books about gargoyles are right there.

On the other side of the bookshelf, a familiar scent brushed by Malleus’s nose. Almost like clockwork, he felt his face get hot. Who would have guessed that the prince was so easily undone that the mere scent of his boyfriend would send him over the edge?

—☆—

In contrast to his usual demeanor, Malleus was flushed and seemed fairly embarrassed as he answered the door. Of course, Rollo was taken aback, and the smell of Malleus’s febrile state instantly made his pants tighten. Not giving him much time to linger there, Malleus stood to the side of his door, inviting the other man inside.

“As per my… letter… Which I am sure you received if you’re here, then you already know whats going on. Surely, I don’t have to explain?” Malleus stated, still awkwardly maintaining eye contact despite the circumstances.

“Listen Malleus Draconia, I don’t know what pleasure you derive from having your lackey send me such a letter in the middle of the daytime, but-”

The silver-haired man’s words were interrupted as Malleus quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him into the room and closing the door in a bold move. He couldn’t have him airing all of this out in the middle of the hallway. Rollo seemed speechless at the gesture, utterly indignant about being manhandled like that. He pulled his arm away, but as soon as he was inside the room, his nostrils flared as the thickening heat scent permeated the air.

“What- what d-do you think you’re…” Rollo covered his nose with his handkerchief, his face flushing completely red. He seemed to have lost his train of thought completely, distracted by the scent of his partner. The thing was, it wasn’t even a particular overreaction. Sharing a heat was a big deal, and the two had only been together for around a few months by now.

“Of course, I’m not twisting your arm to do this, but it would certainly-” Malleus kept looking at him, though Rollo had broken eye contact ages ago, “-be appreciated.”

Rollo could already feel that burning desire starting to spark deep within, and he sighed, accepting the offer, as absurd as it was. After all, it’s not every day that you’re visiting your boyfriend at his school and he goes into heat. After he went back home, he wouldn’t even exactly be sure when he would get to see Malleus again. It would have to be months, and Malleus didn’t really text, so it wasn’t exactly easy to contact him either.

Rollo took a deep breath, and stepped close to the other man, extending his arms and pulling him into a close embrace.

Malleus had never been this close to another man before. He just knew that his scent was driving him wild, and vice versa. Rollo breathed in deeply, face buried against the side of his neck, and his grip on his waist got tighter. The pheromones were intoxicating.

Malleus reached up, his hands tangling in the silver strands of Rollo's hair. Being so coddled, he had never been in such close company with an alpha until now. He understood why.

He was trying to keep his cool in the situation, but the warm feeling was taking over, his mind beginning to cloud. He could hardly think about anything but those uncouth thoughts about the man in front of him.

Rollo was beginning to burn up himself. He didn't want to do anything until he knew he was certain.

"Malleus Draconia," he was trying not to get caught on his words. "Will you g-" he took a moment to try and compose himself. "Will you give yourself to me?”

Malleus looked straight at Rollo’s face, and it was clear in his expression and his eyes that he needed him. “I am yours.” he whispered.

Their lips crashed together again, and heated kisses turned into hands wandering, albeit less boldly than they had both imagined. Awkward pauses and small murmurs sprinkled throughout their ministrations; after all, they were both just getting used to this.

"Are you comfortable? Is this okay?"

"Yes, I don't mind."

—☆—

It wasn't until the back of his legs touched the bed that Malleus realized they had been migrating from the door, and though he didn't want to let go, he retreated into the very small nest. Being away from home, he had to make do with the limited resources he had. He wished he could be at home for an occasion like this, but nothing could be done. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask Lilia for materials- it was embarrassing enough getting Sebek to deliver the envelope to Rollo in the first place.

Malleus sat back in the nest, hands politely folded in his lap. It was only now that Rollo could get a proper look at him, how unraveled he had gotten compared to his natural poise. His shirt buttons were a quarter of the way done already, and he wasn't wearing shoes or a belt. They had all been discarded in his fervor earlier.

Rollo couldn't help the flushed tone of his cheeks, looking away out of habit; he couldn't help but feel endeared by how pathetic the nest was. But realistically, he didn't expect much different from someone who wore the same outfit every single day.

Malleus sighed.

"Flamm. Are you just going to stare?" He asked.

"No, no," Rollo put his handkerchief over his mouth, trying not to laugh. "It's just that I never thought an omega could be bad at nesting." He teased.

Malleus furrowed his brows.

"I can kick you out at any time."

Rollo did laugh then, softly.

"Sorry, sorry. You don't have to get defensive about it. But yes, perhaps now I am going to stare."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Rollo replied, "I just think it's odd. You look so composed and stern normally, but now you're..."

"Yes?"

"You're adorable."

"Flamm!"

For once, Malleus was the one being flustered. As if the current role reversal wasn't enough…

"That was a compliment!" Rollo huffed. "It's just a complete one-eighty. I can't believe this is the man I was so set on destroying." He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with a bit of amusement. If you looked close enough, the corner of his lips curled up just a bit.

"Well, I reckon its still the same objective here," Malleus said with a completely straight face.

The two were silent for another few moments, before soft laughter echoed throughout the stone room.

—☆—

“Don’t worry, I- I do have a condom.” Rollo stated, hiding his face in his palm. He reached into his wallet, pulling out the telltale shiny wrapper. Being a student council president, of course he felt responsible to carry things like this.

He moved to sit on the bed next to Malleus, the two positioning themselves to spoon comfortably over the covers. Rollo shimmied a bit, shoving down his own boxers. He was almost embarrassed to be fully hard, despite the circumstances. It was impossible for an alpha not to be when smelling an omega's scent. Rollo pulled himself close to Malleus, hand grasping his stomach and face nestled into his neck. He wrapped the condom over himself, wrapping his hand around the base to position himself.

It was only now that they had no words to share. No banter. There was an unspoken intimacy in the air; their soft breathing a declaration of love.

As the two laid on their sides, Rollo breathed deeply as he positioned himself, trying not to get overwhelmed. The scent was so strong, it was taking all of his self control to not cum just from the eroticism of the situation. They were both so inexperienced, going from that to helping with his heat-

The other man whined lowly, hair standing on end as he felt Rollo breathing against the back of his neck. His mouth was so close to his scent gland, so accessible for biting, but Rollo resisted, instead keeping his face in the between of Malleus’ neck and shoulder. After all, his horns were large, and he had to keep his head down so he may not get poked in the eye.

At last, he took another deep breath, pushing his length inside of him. Rollo could barely stand the hot, slick feeling, and the dark fire inside his stomach burned even hotter. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt. It was completely different from his own dry hand. On the other side of things, Malleus was beside himself, the feeling of being full after agonizing in heat alone was absolute bliss. It was so unlike him, to lose his decorum in such a way. He had become a sopping-wet rag of a man within this short time, and now, he leaned back against Rollo, wanting more contact with him. Rollo held on to him tightly, starting to slowly and shallowly move his hips.

Black hair spilled over Malleus’s shoulders and into his face, not having the thought nor priority to brush it aside. All that took up his mind was the fullness, the hot pleasure of each shallow thrust of his companion's length.

Rollo's arms wrapped tightly around his middle, their bodies flush against each other. His front was stark against Malleus’s back, only the dip at the arch of his back separating them.

As their movements got more intense, a thin sheen of sweat shown on both of them, their bodies tangled together in a passionate dance. As slow as they were taking it, they both seemed completely taken over by the feeling. The pace was sloppy, without a very clear rhythm at all. As Rollo’s hips moved against Malleus’s, the two only cared about the other.

"Is this- ngh, fuck-" Rollo cursed breathlessly, his hot breath eliciting a shiver down Malleus’s neck.

"Is this okay?"

Malleus nodded vaguely, too preoccupied to think about it.

"Yes."

Rollo adjusted his position a little bit, the two turning just a little more towards their stomachs. He put his leg over to try and keep himself steady, his breathing becoming shaky.

"Is it… is it alright if I knot?" He asked, once again wanting as much consent as the other man could grant.

Malleus nodded again, this time more assertively.

"Yes," He repeated, more firm, even more breathless. There was a small whimper in his tone- a conveyed desperation no one on this earth had gotten lucky enough to hear. The length of Rollo's dick brushed against every sensitive spot he didn't know he had, making him crumble to bits in his arms.

"Please-" he whined, a high and needy keen.

The sound was so unlike him that it drove the other man right over the edge, Rollo's orgasm crashing into him. His knot swelled at the base of his length, and with one last thrust, the two now were locked together, for a good while at least.

The feeling of being knotted was too hot to handle, and the feeling spurred on Malleus’s own orgasm, making him shiver with pleasure. His toes curled, and he buried his face in the pillow next to him to hide his expression as he whimpered louder than before.

The silence that soon seeped into the room was deafening. The only noise was their soft breathing, the two not even daring to move yet. However, the afterglow crept in much quicker than they would have expected.

Rollo didn't move from his place against Malleus. His face was still fastened in his neck, nose pressed against the omega's sensitive scent gland, his arms still tightly wrapped around him.

"That was… that was really-"

"It was."

Rollo chuckled softly, humming briefly.

"I must admit, I still am in shock about you being an omega. I'd known, yet I suppose it hadn't set in until now," he admitted.

Malleus made a curious sound.

"Really, Flamm?" He asked.

"Mhm," Rollo murmured.

"Presumably humans present different as their second gender from fae. I'll have to make further note of that." Malleus mumbled, closing his eyes for a few moments as he settled back against Rollo’s front.

—☆—

The knot finally deflated.

As the two turned over, exhausted from the throes of passion, the silence and their breathing was all that was audible now. Malleus leaned over against Rollo’s chest, reaching his arm across his chest. Rollo’s heart almost lept out of his chest, but what would have been a sweet moment was actually just the prince reaching for something from the nightstand.

A little device that beeped as he turned it on, making little pixelated sounds.

“Ah, you’re hungry?” Malleus said softly.

“What?” Rollo raised an eyebrow.

Malleus’s eyes darted up to Rollo’s face now.

“What, what?”

Rollo huffed softly, “What is that thing?” he questioned.

“This is Drago.” Malleus explained, his face seeming to Rollo as if he had no thoughts in his head at all. His black hair was slightly stuck to his skin, which was still slick with sweat from their activities. His cheeks were flushed, and the sight alone made the other man's breath catch. Perhaps it was because he was a prince. Perhaps it was just because he was his boyfriend. But he really was so beautiful.

Rollo simply sighed.

"Good lord, Malleus. Whatever will I do with you…"

Malleus simply replied,

"I thought you wanted to destroy me, Rollo."

[anderstrevelyan]

My Blood Your Paint

Rating: M / Pairing: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash (one-sided—thanks, amnesia) / Word Count: 3,139

If you’d told me when I started this game that my writing brain would be consumed by this particular antagonist I would not have believed you, but hey, here we are! I’m working on more about Valas (and Gortash) set before the game, but it seems fitting for my first posted Baldur’s Gate fic to be about the scene that started it all.

Here's the Act 3 coronation from Gortash’s perspective.

Excerpt below, and you can read the rest on AO3.

Today was supposed to be the best day of Enver Gortash’s life. Everything was to be his. Everything. Exactly as it always should have been, from the moment Bane looked into his black heart and saw the makings of a lord. After all the cold, long years he’s spent, belittled and betrayed, building himself up with unwavered faith to close his fist around the kind of power Baldur’s Gate has never seen: to become its first Archduke. Yet it was incredibly clear, long before today’s vaunted coronation, that today won’t be the uncomplicated triumph he’s long imagined. Ketheric is dead. Orin is unstable, wavering, threatening to carve out the plan’s still-barely-beating heart—the antithesis of anything he would have chosen in an ally. The brain threatens to revolt, rumbling beneath the very streets, sparking his own panic even as he stands straight to solve everyone else’s. And Ketheric’s killers, utter unknowns, bearers of the third Netherstone—they remain the key. And so this day, his day, becomes all about them.

No matter. He’ll convince them, that standing with him is the way forward, the only way to best the brain: through logic, through charm, through the power of pageantry—or through force, if it comes to that. He just wishes—as he makes the final touches to his hair and pins the last golden brooch to his lapel, as he descends the winding stairs of Wyrm’s Rock, as he hands the ceremonial sword to Ulder Ravengard, mind tadpole-tethered and tamed—he wishes he had more to go on about what makes these mysterious adventurers tick. Orin had tried to plant a treacherous little seed, of course, and he curses himself for sparing it another thought. With a toss of her braid, affectedly aloof, and the exact right idea to carve into his skull: that her sibling, Bhaal’s fallen Chosen, his own lost everything, lives still. Is among those adventurers. Is on his way to him here, today, has accepted an invitation to these very formalities. Gortash didn’t fail to notice the cruelty in Orin’s eyes as she’d said it, had tried to focus on its memory as he heard of sightings across Rivington, through his Steel Watch and more quiet observers—or at least, sightings of someone wearing his face. Gortash wasn’t going to fall for that again, even as each report sparked an unwanted shock of hope through his heart. It’s not him. It can’t really be him. He focuses instead on the details of the audience hall: takes a silent roll call of the invited patriars, in their ceremonial best to greet the city’s new dawn, checks and re-checks its defenses, the Steel Watchers standing sentry and the traps, gilded gold, ready to make ash of anyone who tries to intervene. Orin and her ilk won’t come here. Even she wouldn’t dare. By the time he feels a faint resonance in the stone secured to the back of his hand, he’s calm again. Confident. Sure, as he listens to Dillard Portyr introduce him with a dull-as-ever speech, that he has this in his control. But when the far doors open, when he’s sure the newcomers are the ones he seeks, when they come close enough for him to see Valas DeVir’s face—that’s when Gortash knows he’d been wrong. Gods below, this really is the best day of his life.

(keep reading)

[ilikepjo24]

Fanfic writers, what is your work process? Be brutally honest.

Mine is:

I get an idea from a movie/book/song/video/chat/conversation/other fanfic/real life event/no where in particular.

I sit and think about the idea for long enough to get invested.

If the inspiration is a movie/real life event/conversation, I record it. If it's a song/video, I save the link. If it's a book, I take a picture of the page. If it's a chat/other fanfic, I take a screenshot of it. If it's nothing in particular, I just write it down, along with the situation I was in when the idea sparked (drinking coffee, completing a task, ect) so that I remember what the original vibe of the idea was.

I create a note in my phone where I have the recording/link/picture/screenshot/note that created the idea and then I type out all the extra details I came up with in step 2.

I spend a couple of days brainstorming and deciding what are all the events/dialogue/interactions I want my fic to have.

I create a timeline of all the events and add that to the notes app.

I create the fanfic in my head in the form of a movie, so that my brain can visualize what dialogue choices flow best, how much attention I want to pay in the background during each scene, and what is the body language, tone of voice and facial expressions I want the characters to desplay.

I make a video of myself narrating the movie and its details, while mimicking the body language, so that I won't forget the details and I add it to my notes app.

I look back at the video and wonder what instructions I'd give if it was a movie and I was a director, to get a better grasp of how I want all the movement to be described in text.

I make a voice recording of my director instructions so I can listen to myself say it and see if the instructions are formed in a way that would flow well on paper, and if it's not I redo it and add it to my notes.

I find pictures of all the objects/people I want to describe and follow a similar process with the voice recordings so that I can see if the descriptions flow pleasantly and then I add that recording to my notes too.

In the scenes where the background is important, I draw an layout of the room and add all the objects to see if it feels realistic for a room of the specific dimensions to fit all those objects in a way that isn't awkward and then I add the drawing to my notes.

It's been 18 months since I got the original idea and now all the prep is done, so I open a new Google doc and start making a first draft while constantly checking my notes app from reference.

I always complete the first draft in one sitting and now with that first draft and the note as references, I start writing a second draft, which often takes more than one sittings.

After the second draft is done, I open wordhippo (website) to find other words I could use in parts where I feel like the wording could be better and out of the second draft, I create a third one.

I go over the form of the sentences/paragraphs to make sure the fic is balanced properly.

I check for any spelling and grammar errors and since I don't have a beta reader, this third draft is the final product.

It's been 50 years since I got the idea and I finally post.

I look back in regret because I don't like the way it turned out but I don't take it down cause people leave kudos, so I must have done something right.

What is your 🫵work process?

No pressure tags: @waterfire1848 @bellatrixobsessed1 @timur-pannonicus @akiizayoi4869 @hello-nichya-here @azulas-daddy-kink