#well if you need me i’ll be reading this absurdly long fic for a fandom i’ve been in for literally 15 years

[fingertipsmp3]

Idk how I used to read insanely long, like 50+ chapter fanfics, on my phone and laptop. Hello eyestrain, will you be staying long???

[ashdumpsterpile]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

[cha-melodius]

Tags: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, (but everything else is the same), Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, Mission Fic, Fluff, absurdly fluffy for a mission fic, blink and you miss it angst, Misunderstandings, Banter, Revelations, Public Displays of Affection, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Non-Explicit Sex, Concerned Illya, Illya POV, Napoleon pov

Summary: Napoleon and Illya have to go undercover at a couples retreat, and the mission turns out to be both easier and harder than they expected.

Note: But chamel, I hear you saying, aren't there approximately eleventy-hundred undercover-as-a-couple fics in this fandom? Don't you have other things you've promised people you would write? Well, yes and yes, but I stumbled across this concept and inspiration is a bitch who insisted I write it, so here you go. I can promise that there is a twist to this one that I haven't seen in this fandom before (at least for this pairing, and of course I apologize if I missed something), so I hope it entertains. It's a mission fic, so it got longer than I planned of course, but it's not going to get super long *glares at story and tells it to behave*. The whole thing is very lighthearted, which I guess I needed after finishing a novel. I'll be updating on the weekends like I have in the past, because its easier to just keep to my schedule.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 [COMPLETE]

Preview of Chapter 1 below the cut, or read the whole chapter over at AO3. Chapters will be linked above each week.

“You’re late. Both of you,” Gaby hisses, jabbing an accusing finger in their direction. “We were supposed to be in briefing a half an hour ago.”

“It’ll be fine,” Napoleon counters smoothly. “Waverly probably hasn’t even finished making his tea.”

Gaby just glowers at him. There’s an easy grin on his face, but Illya can see the subtle tension in his shoulders, and he doesn’t doubt that she can see it too. She’s highly observant, even for a spy, and she knows them too well after more than a year of working together. Napoleon likes to pretend that he can still hide things from her, which is the whole reason they are late in the first place. Or rather, the argument that they had that morning about keeping secrets is the reason they are late, but Illya is happy to blame Napoleon.

Not that he can actually use that as an excuse out loud.

“What were you two up to before work, anyway?” she asks after she gestures impatiently for them to follow.

Illya looks sharply at her, but there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly knowing behind the question. Still, it’s disconcerting. “What? Why would you say that?”

“You arrived together, duh. Please don’t tell me that Napoleon called you to come get something off a high shelf for him.”

“Hey!” Napoleon protests, affronted, but Gaby ignores him.

“Actually, do tell if that’s the reason,” she muses, a small smile playing on her lips now. “It would serve him right. I don’t know why anyone needs bookshelves that go all the way to the ceiling.”

“It was coincidence,” Illya grumbles. He told Napoleon they should stagger their entrances, but, well, they were running late, and Napoleon insisted everyone would be too busy notice. In a spy agency. Illya doesn’t know why he listens to him, ever.

Napoleon opens his mouth to say something—some excuse for their suspicious arrivals, an insistence that he is in no way short, or a defense of his bookshelves; hard to tell which—but they’ve arrived at Waverly’s office by then. Their boss does not look pleased by the delay, though it is difficult to tell behind the genial British manners as he invites them to take their usual seats. Napoleon settles into the leather armchair, Illya on the couch, and Gaby perches on the edge of the desk, the better to get a glimpse of whatever intel Waverly’s working with. Like the files won’t be in all of their inboxes immediately after the briefing.

“You all know we’ve been tracking the dealings of the Catharus Corporation for the last few months,” Wavery begins, folding his hands lightly on the desk in front of him. “It has been frustratingly difficult to infiltrate their organization by the usual methods, we only find out about their transactions after they’ve been completed. Well, this time Analysis is sure that they’ve identified where their next sale will take place with just enough time to get agents in place.” “What’s the product?” Napoleon asks. Catharus seems to have a greatly diversified portfolio of black-market dealings, from weapons to art to secrets.

“We don’t know that,” Waverly tells him. “All we know is that the sale will happen here, sometime in the next four days.” He taps at his keyboard and the large monitor behind him displays photos of what looks to be a beach resort, somewhere tropical. There are palm trees and pairs of beach chairs in front of a good-sized even center, with quaint little blue-roofed huts dotting the surrounding landscape. 

“Well that looks pleasant,” Napoleon says approvingly. “Always nice when villains have taste.”

Waverly gives him a typically dry look. “It’s a couples retreat.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is obvious in Napoleon’s voice; couples missions almost always mean Illya and Gaby, and if it’s truly a retreat for couples only he’ll be reduced to taking a service position at the resort, if he even gets to go at all. He is part of the briefing, though, which suggests the former.

“Guess I’ll dig out my bikini,” Gaby chirps, her mood clearly improved.

“Guess again,” Waverly replies, so blithely that Illya almost doesn’t realize what he actually said. “This particular retreat is for same-sex couples.”

“Huh?” Gaby huffs.

“What?” Illya blurts.

“Say that again?” Napoleon queries, all at the same time.

“Same-sex couples, exclusively,” Waverly repeats, leveling his measured gaze at them each in turn. “I know this is an unusual request for you, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were the best for the job.” He says all of this staring directly at Illya, which is understandable. That Napoleon is bisexual is in his file, and has been made use of multiple times in particular types of honeypot missions. Illya, though… Illya is the one who has always been visibly uncomfortable when those missions arise. Illya is the one who had point blank asked Waverly not to send him as backup on those missions unless it was strictly necessary.

It wasn’t for the reason that everyone thinks, though.

[forestwater87]

Ok this is super embarrassing but you’re one of my favorite writers in this uh.. whatever this blogosphere is so!! I wanna try and take a crack at writing my own fanfic but.. I got no idea where to even start. Any advice?

Oh man, I feel awful about this! I didn’t know my inbox had any new messages, so some of these asks have been sitting here for . . . some time. 

Anyway, first off thank you very much! Secondly, the most obvious advice is just, you know, “do it.” But that’s infinitely easier said than done. I started writing fanfic when I was around 10 years old, so overthinking it wasn’t an issue, since I thought I was the world’s greatest writer. Assuming you’re not 10 years old and as blind to the concept of literary criticism as I was . . . well, the first step is obviously getting an idea. EDIT: Holy shit, this is long. I’m gonna have to break this bad boy up with headers, like it’s a real blog post or something.

Getting Ideas/Inspiration

I don’t know if you already have something you’d like to write about or if you’re still at the “gee that looks like fun” level of fanfic ruminating, but if you’re having trouble coming up with ideas, turning to the existing fandom is a great place to start! 

1: Filling in fandom gaps: I’ve found a lot of my best fic ideas by looking through what already existed and seeing where there was something missing; when I first started writing for Camp Camp, literally only @raenbowsofficial created anything for Gwenvid -- it didn’t even have a ship name yet, and I’m pretty sure the 3 people into it were still throwing “daven” and “gavid” around as well -- so there being zero other fics for it meant that if I wanted it to exist, I’d have to be the one to write it. (That’s also nice if you’re kind of insecure, because when no one else has tried the idea you’re interested in, you have no pressure to compare it to anything else.) 

Also, you could take a popular/already existing concept and write it the way you’d like to see it, if the existing fanfics do something with the story or characters that you’re not thrilled with. That’s handy because it gives you a general blueprint to work off of in terms of tropes and broad story beats, while letting you explore something new. Obviously, don’t rip off someone else’s fic note-for-note, but being inspired by someone else is a great way to kickstart your creativity! If you do have a specific author or story that you’re using as a jumping-off point for your own writing, I would strongly recommend linking them in your author’s notes at the beginning or end of the fic, and maybe gifting the story to them! You don’t have to, since the creation is entirely your own, but it’s still always nice to acknowledge the people who inspire you the most.

2: Fandom inception. If you want to be a little more direct and literal, there’s always the option of writing fanfic of a fanfic or fanart that you really love, if there’s a universe or story idea that you like, and you want more of it. As long as you give credit and notify the original creator, I think you’d have no issues in terms of fanfic etiquette, and I imagine they’d be honored to have inspired your own writing. Fandom is a very collaborative experience, after all, and we’re all in this together! :)

3. For more general “I have a vague idea of what I want to do (the ship, or maybe a tiny plot bunny) but I’m not sure where to go with it,” my biggest recommendation is music. Especially folk indie-rock music, which is 90% angst and 100% haunting. And again, looking at fanfic/art is a great way to get inspired -- I have a tendency to put up a particularly good or emblematic piece of fanart/fic in another window when I’m working on something tricky to write, just for something to stare at when my ideas start running dry (shoutout to @doritofalls, @ellohcee, and the aforementioned RA for being my go-tos when I need to stare at something pretty to feel inspired; there are absolutely others, because this fandom is filled with absurdly talented people, but those 3 are my heroes of inspiration and if you SOMEHOW don’t already know them, fix that immediately). 

Wow, that’s a lot and it’s literally just all about getting an idea . . . which you might already have. Yikes. For the sake of people who have to scroll past this, let’s put the rest under a cut:

Fleshing Out the Idea: An Ode to Outlines

Some people are able to just sit down and write something incredible from a vague idea, and the story just builds on itself without any sort of planning or organization to guide them along the way. These people are named Cipher/Campernetics, and we hate her for being unfairly talented.

For the rest of us, outlines are essential.

My outlines tend to be insanely specific, because I’m very afraid of letting a single idea slip through the cracks, and I build on them over time as I get increasingly sure of where the story’s going. The early outlines tend to be extremely vague, with lots of “and then something happens” connecting major plot points. An example for a current WIP I’m doing right now:

(Seriously, “Julia and everything”? Future Forest is going to be so pissed at current Forest when she reaches that point and realizes she has no idea what she’s doing)

And as the story starts to take shape and a plot eventually forms -- they tend to take at least 10 chapters to materialize, but they do generally show up! One of the great things about fanfiction is that plot is largely optional, though, so no worries if you’re starting without a full story idea -- I find myself writing more and more details down, if for no other reason than that I want to make sure I remember what I was thinking when I finally get to that scene (because I have absolutely gotten to a point in a story and forgotten what I’d had planned. It sucks). Here’s an example from another fic with pretty significant spoilers if you can figure out which one it is oops:

I’d recommend keeping your outlines pretty simple, at least to start with: words and phrases, rather than whole-ass sentences like the above. The complexity will develop as your ideas do, so no need to wrack your brain trying to write out the entire story in bullet form.

I use the bolded ideas as stepping stones, more or less; I’ll write out the piece of the story that each line represents, which can be as little as a sentence or as much as 4 or more chapters (RIP my most recent long-running fic), then delete that line and move on to the next. 

Bolding them isn’t necessary, but it does make it easier to differentiate at a glance what needs to be written. If you keep everything in the same hundred-page Google Doc like I do, this is very important.

Your outline doesn’t have to be well-written, and you can 100% use fillers like “and then something happens here.” I do that all the time -- again, another completely different story:

Now, the vaguer things are, the more annoyed Future You will be when it comes time to write whatever it’s bulleting -- there’s a reason I haven’t updated this fic, and it’s because I have zero idea what the everliving fuck “Pinky-and-the-Brain-ing all over the place” means -- but it’s really good for when you’re first getting started sketching out the vague outline of your fic. The more you panic trying to figure out all the twists and details at the very start, the less likely you’re ever just going to sit down and write the damn thing.

(This might be why I don’t write plot-heavy stories, to be fair. Mystery writers very well might have to have it all planned out from the get-go, and I’d recommend chatting with someone who’s a bit less “coffeeshop AU” and a bit more Agatha Christie for that kind of advice.)

Knowing When to Post

There are people that exist, who have amazing self-control, who can wait until their entire story is written and then release it in sections, at regular intervals, until the story is completed.

I am not one of these people, though I try to be with literally every single fic I’ve ever written.

Personally, I do this until I reach a point where I get stuck and need validation, and then post what I have in a giant chunk and then don’t update it for several months. This is almost universally known as the worst way to write fanfics, both in terms of getting interaction from fans and keeping readers from wanting to kill you, and if you have the ability to write the entire thing and sit on it until it’s ready to be shared, you are a hero.

Alternatively, if you can actually stick to a set schedule of writing it as you go and still update with a new chapter every X days, you are not human and I’m terrified of you, because if you find a way to weaponize this power you will rule the world.

Honestly, a good rule of thumb? Post it when you’re ready for people to read it, whether it’s done or not. Not all works will get done, and it seems mean to deny people the delicious little stub you’ve written even if you’re not going to finish it. When you’re happy with what you have -- or are so tired of looking at it that you need to post it or you’ll throw your computer out the window -- just do it and let out a sigh of relief, then either take a few days before going back to writing or just jump in immediately like a goddamn masochist.

(I have tried to get far enough ahead that I can start posting the already-written stuff on a schedule, figuring by the time I’m caught up I’ll have completed the entire story and won’t have any awkward gaps. Ahahahahahahahahaha that has never once worked.)

If you’re not certain about your writing, get a beta! The fandom is full of talented people who’d be happy to read over your work, and if the person you ask doesn’t have the time or spoons, they probably have a few ideas of other people you could reach out to. You don’t need a beta, but it always makes me feel better to have another set of eyes look over my writing before posting, and my beta always catches things I completely missed. Plus, you get a nice taste of that sweet, sweet validation we all crave.

This . . . is a bad guide. Just in general. The advice is . . . not good, and I think it’s largely useless. But I keep trying to think of useful things to add to it and coming up empty, so I hope something in here helped, and if you’d like to bounce your ideas off of someone, feel free to shoot me a message! Talking ideas over with friends is a great way to flesh them out as well, and I am happy to be anyone’s fandom friend.

[haru-desune]

Can i plz has a Hayaryuu sick fic. Hayato taking care of a sick Ryuuichi~ (established relationship or not it's your choice)

So I am a sucker for sick fic. I hope this meets yourexpectations! Also found on AO3 and FF.net

When Ryuuichi woke up that morning, there was an itch in histhroat that no amount of coughing could subside. After his 5thattempt at clearing his throat at the breakfast table, Saikawa had offered hima hot ginger and honey tea and advised him to stay home from school that day.Ryu took the tea, but politely declined the offer to stay in bed. A sore throatwasn’t too serious, really. That was his first mistake.

The walk to school seemed longer than usual, due partiallyto the biting autumn wind that blew strongly against them. Ryuuichi picked upKotaro and held him tightly against his chest, half afraid that the little boywould get blown away by the wind. He felt his brother shiver a little againsthim, despite the extra jacket the two of them wore. Without stopping to think,Ryu used his free hand to unwind the scarf from his neck and wrap it aroundKotaro, who sighed in contentment and snuggled closer. They continued theirwalk, and Ryuuichi ignored the chill on his neck and the heaviness in his legs.That was mistake number two.

The real nail in the coffin, however, was gym first hour,before the sun had been out long enough to really warm up the ground. Ryuuichiand his classmates stood huddled together, shivering in shorts and thint-shirts, waiting for their warmups to start. Even Kamitani looked mildlyuncomfortable. The boys chatted aimlessly in an effort to distract themselvesfrom the bone-deep chill. Ryu found himself zoning in and out of the conversationaround him, his ears filled with a strange sort of buzzing noise.

“Man, its cold! I wish the day care kids were out on a walkagain today! Think you can do anything about that Kashima?” Usokawa asked witha grin, playfully elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to make him stumble.

Normally, Ryuuichi would just laugh in response. Todayhowever his vision swam, the world tilted on its axis, and the last thing hesaw was Kamitani’s panicked expression before everything went black.

When Ryuuichi woke up he was lying down in the nurse’soffice, and Kamitani was sitting on the counter across from him, reading hismagazine. Ryu blinked the sleep from his eyes and tried to sit up. He let out asoft groan, and Kamitani and the nurse were by his side in a second.

“How are you feeling Kashima-kun?” asked the nurse as sheheld a glass of water to his lips, Kamitani hovering behind her. He seemed asemotionless as ever, but his furrowed brow gave away his worry.

“Heavy. And warm all over.” said Ryu, gratefully acceptingthe drink.

“Well that is to be expected. You seem to have caught a variantof the flu.”

Ryu nodded, before catching Kamitani’s eye.

“Thanks for staying with me Kamitani, sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got to skip class for this.” He replied,before heading back to his spot on the counter and Ryuuichi felt a strange stabof disappointment at the casual statement. The nurse seemed to notice.

“Kamitani-kun is a good friend, huh? We couldn’t make himleave your side until your temperature went down.” she said with a smile andwink as she tucked the blanket around his chin.

He shot a glance towards the counter where Kamitani wasseemingly absorbed in his magazine. But upon closer inspection, Ryu could seethe other boy sneaking glances towards him out of the corner of his eye. Feelingsuddenly at ease, he closed his eyes and settled into another deep sleep.

Ryu woke up to soft sunlight playing across face and acomfortable weight against his waist. He stretched backwards languidly, thenfroze as he collided with something solid and warm. There was a soft groan andhe manoeuvred himself into a better position for observation, letting out ahigh pitched squeak when he identified the obstacle. There, just inches fromhis own face was Kamitani, sleeping peacefully with his arm around Ryu’s waist.Shirtless. As Kamitani’s eyes fluttered open, he shoved himself backwards,spluttering.

“K-kamitani, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean-”

Instead of looking flustered, Kamitani smiled sleepily andpulled him closer.

“Shhh Ryu, go back to sleep. It’s too early to be awake.”

“Huh?”“Taka and Kotaro are sleeping over with the twins, and we rarely get to sleepin.”

“HUH!?”

The sleepy haze cleared from Kamitani’s eyes, and he lookedat Ryu in confusion. He propped himself up on his elbow and reached out withhis free hand to cup Ryu’s face.

“My love, are you feeling okay?”

Ryu rocketed backwards until he slammed into the wall, hisface turning a deep scarlet. Kamitani’s confused expression turned into one ofworry.

“Ryu?” he asked quietly.

Ryu’s heart was thumping so loudly he almost missed him.

“Ryu?” asked Kamitani “Ryu wake up.”

Wait. That was an odd thing to say.

“You need to wake up, Kashima”

Suddenly the world snapped into focus, and Ryu found himselflooking at a puzzled, fully clothed, Kamitani. Oh. So it was a dream. Why hewas having absurdly domestic dreams about Kamitani was something he wasn’tquite ready to think about.

“Kashima, are you okay? You were making some strange noises.”

“Hurk.”

Kamitani looked even more concerned. Ryu swallowed, tryinghard to forget the phantom sensation of those long fingers so gentle againsthis cheek. He was failing.

“Kashima you’re turning red. Is the fever coming back? ShouldI call the nurse?”

“N-no, I’m okay.”

“Oh. By the way are you hungry? That weird butler of yoursdropped off some porridge if you want.”

“He’s a secretary… I think.”

“Of course.” Kamitani quirked an eyebrow, even as his mouth quirkedinto a smile.

Even the half smile was too much for Ryu’s already flusteredmind, and he quickly looked away.

“I- I think I’ll sleep instead.”

“Okay. Move over.”

“What?”

“Move over, we can both fit.”

Was he having another dream? He stared at Kamitani inconfusion.

“You’re supposed to keep warm when you’re sick, right? It’llhelp if I sleep with you.”

Ryuuichi was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head, andKamitani flushed, realizing what he’d said.

“Not sleep with you! I mean sleep next to you! In the samebed!”

Ryu decided not to point out that that was hardly better. Heshould have refused, at least on the grounds that Kamitani would definitelycatch whatever Ryu had if he stayed so close, but a large part of him, the partthat came up with fluffy domestic dreams, prompted him to quietly move over.Kamitani folded himself into the offered space, and Ryu turned towards the wallto give him more room. He felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him and he wassure he stopped breathing for a moment.

“Is this okay?” asked Kamitani a low voice in his ear, andif Ryu shivered it was definitely because his fever was coming back, andnothing else.

He let his eyes close as he relaxed against Kamitani’schest. He was warm. It was nice.

“Just keep your shirt on this time.” He mumbled sleepily.

He was pretty sure he heard a strangled noise as he driftedoff to sleep.

Ryuuichi woke up to the sound of a camera shutter. His eyessnapped open, and he could tell that Kamitani was still asleep next to him bythe arm draped around his middle and the soft snores by his ear. The cameraclicked again, and Ryu shot into a sitting position, accidentally elbowingKamitani’s face in the process. As he muttered a quick apology to the otherboy, he finally located the source of the noise. Usaida was leaning against thedoor, camera in hand, and grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Delete that or I’ll send you flying.” said Kamitani evenly,rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You don’t scare me.” Usaida replied, sticking out histongue.  “Anyway, I just came by to dropoff this card the kids made,” He said, holding up a glittery construction papermonstrosity that Ryu was going to keep pinned to his wall forever “but I guessyou’re well on your way to getting better already. Sorry to interrupt!” Heexclaimed in a sing-song voice, practically skipping out the door in in glee.

Ryu groaned. That man was worse than the kids sometimes. Hefell backwards against the pillow with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Sorry about that, I’ll get him to delete the pictureslater.” He said turning his head towards Kamitani. His friend looked at himfondly.

“Kashima, go back to sleep.” Kamitani’s eyes were alreadyclosing. Ryu lay down, melting into his arms, and let sleep overtake him with asmall smile playing on his lips.

Ryurecovered soon after, but Kamitani was sick for a week. 

Ahhhhh I meant to havethis written yesterday, but life got in the way, sorry! Anyway since I've madea small promise to myself to write more this year, and also to maybe expandthis little corner of fandom as much as I can, I am open to taking prompts. I won't write anything that's ships an adultwith a minor (I don't care what the age of consent is in Japan) or a similarage gap (i.e. teen with child), and I'm very uncomfortable writing smut, butanything else is good to go. 

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Hey! Since it seems that you have been in the eruri fandom fo a while, I wonder if you knew any long modern au fics where we see them meet, fall in love, move together and then get married? Or something like that, I'm just a sucker for the whole narration of falling in love ;-;

I know there are dozens and dozens of fics that follow this arc and I am a sucker for the falling in love narrative, especially if there is an (un)healthy dose of UST involved.  I have to confess though, I’m a bit funny about marriage.  On the one hand I will and have campaigned for equal marriage rights for everyone, regardless of gender or sexual preference, but on the other hand I get a bit fed up with marriage being held up as the one and only ideal relationship goal. However that’s just me and you didn’t ask for a lecture, you asked for fic recs so I’ll get off my soap box now :}

I have read a lot of modern AUs that follow the meet, fall in love, form a relationship arc, here are a few of my favourites, I hope you’ll enjoy some of them too.

Different Stars by @thefangirlingdead​ (89,946). Reincarnation AU. Erwin searches for Levi everywhere after he is given a second chance at life, but when he eventually finds him, it’s too late - Levi not only doesn’t remember him or anything about their past life, but he is also happily married. Thankful for a chance to have Levi in his life once more, Erwin tells himself that he is content with just being a friend to his past lover, but not everything goes as planned. - I can highly recommend all of thefangirlingdead’s fics. 

find me on the way, find me anyway by seabear (24,612). Omegaverse. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be going into heat, he wasn’t supposed to be using a mating agency to help him find an Alpha, and he was never supposed to see Erwin Smith again. In Levi’s life, things have rarely gone the way they were supposed to. - Even if omegaverse isn’t your thing, this is really worth a read, it’s beautifully written, tender and very funny in places. 

An Education by @stereobone​ (18,611). Can Levi juggle teaching and dealing with the school’s new, absurdly attractive principal? Probably, but it won’t be easy.

I’m Only Going to Heaven (If it Feels Like Hell) by @stereobone (16,970). "Are you saying you want to be my sugar daddy?“ Levi says. - This is just gorgeous.

Animals by @stereobone​ (26,218). Prison AU. What Levi has now are four walls, barred windows, and, whether he wants him or not, Erwin. - Just read everything by stereobone, you won’t regret it.

Mats and Tats by @improbabledicks​ (11,244). Levi has the hots for his yoga instructor. - Hot, sweet and it made me laugh.

Four Years Later by @everythingshiny​ (92,279)​. Running into your former ex is always awkward. Especially when you’re still madly in love with him. 

all your demons and desires and dark sides by Carthage (65,024). Recently discharged from the military after losing an arm during a training exercise, Erwin Smith returns to the BDSM club he once frequented, hoping to find someone willing to give him control. There, he is introduced to Levi, another former soldier, new to the scene and burdened with a past he’s unwilling to speak of. - This is one of my all time favourite fics ever.  

Irascible by bigasstrees and revai-lution (119,595). Southern Gothic, True Detective-inspired, 1990’s setting. Detective Erwin Smith is a family man, first and foremost. He goes to church on Sundays, he has a wife and two beautiful children, and is well-regarded by his neighbors and coworkers alike. Sure, every man has his secrets, his struggles between himself and the Lord, but Erwin has never known any man whose waters run as dark and deep as Levi’s, his mysterious new partner.  - And this is my other all time favourite fic.

Am I allowed to rec one of my own fics?  If so…

Cardamom by @lostcauses-noregrets (43,027). The first day of the Archaeological Symposium has been long and tiring and Erwin just needs one cup of coffee before he attempts to find his way back to his hotel.“Just a long black, please.”The barista drawls something in Arabic, sounding mildly irritated as he points at the menu.“Coffee,” Erwin clarifies intelligently. He’s hot, he’s tired, he’s confused. He wants caffeine as soon as possible.

[canonicallyanxious]

this 30 question thing?? and i have to tag 20 people lol in what universe do i have that many friends

Thanks to @evensdramaticshenanigans for tagging me! <33

nickname: don’t really... have one anymore? Just call me Sarah i suppose gender: i’m a girl i guess idk i’m not that committed star sign: gemini! height: five feet on the dot as my wonderful friends who’ve never even met me in real life so love to remind me on the daily :’] birthday: May 29th favourite bands: fuck me idk what i listen to anymore um two door cinema club, twenty one pilots, misterwives, grizzly bear, the xx, glass animals, local natives, wildcat! wildcat!, saint motel, recently got into little green cars as well, basically just a shitton of white indie rock lol [though grizzly bear and the xx are gay culture so Jot That Down] favourite solo artist: Sufjan Stevens until i die [literally play seven swans at my funeral i’m not even joking]!!! also hayley kiyoko, mirah, laura veirs, brooke waggoner, and kid cudi song stuck in my head: dusk til dawn by ZAYN/Sia, it’s such a jam??? BABY I’LL BE THEEEEEEEEEREREREREREREREEEEEEEE last movie i watched: i think it was this movie called fairhaven about a kid who gets sent to gay conversion therapy [yikes......] and when he comes back he has to navigate his relationship with his old boyfriend which, like, i was kinda dubious about, but i gave it a shot because people said there was a happy ending and the trailer looked good?? turns out they put almost all the good footage in the trailer and there’s maybe like two minutes of the entire movie i actually liked LOL the acting was good but idk the writing was... eh? also i hated how long the conversion therapy scenes were i had to skip over those because i just couldn’t do it so basically i would not recommend it unless you can find the two good minutes of the movie [which to be fair were REALLY FUCKING GOOD i mean my queer ass is absurdly weak for sleepy morning cuddles idk what you want from me] last show  watched: haven’t really had the time or emotional/mental capacity for proper tv show watching lately but i did start watching this webseries called Barbelle [it totally counts] which is about lesbian pop stars and honestly what more of a pitch could you need go watch it right now when did i start this blog: i wanna say i made it late 2010 and started using it mid 2011 but like what are dates, time is a construct, IDK what do i post: idk lol. i guess you’d call this clusterfuck a multi-fandom blog?? right now there’s a lot of skam, check please, brooklyn 99, the get down, various other gay shit, the usual Other blogs: I'm a tiny bit obsessed with sideblogs oops. let’s see what are the ones i actually want linked out there... so i’ve got an aesthetic blog, a collab blog i run with my writing partner in crime and spouse @boxesfullofthoughts, a SKAM fic rec blog i co-run with a bunch of other people now lol, a review blog i run with lyds and @pronouncingitwang we don’t really post on anymore but w/e it exists, and more private blogs than i care to admit do i get asks: not that often nah average sleep: lol lucky number: 28 dream job: the DREAM dream job [like, top tier goals] is to write stories and live like a hermit but the “this might not be my ~most ideal scenario in the most perfect world~ career but i know i would be happy and fulfilled doing this” dream job is communications in public health [preferably at a nonprofit/ngo] food: noodles! last book i read: Clifford’s Blues, had to read it for class and i’d actually highly recommend it! It’s about a gay black jazz musician imprisoned in Dachau during the Holocaust and you can tell the writer really did his research. lots of interesting things done with style and form too. it’s quite heavy though so be warned what i’m wearing: an apollo/nasa shirt i got from the kennedy space center, jeans, socks my SO gave me, and my favorite flannel 8] favorite fandoms: my cynical bitter ass thinks all fandoms kinda suck on some level lol i’m sorry i’m such a rude fucker but i guess i’ll answer this with favorite fandom i’ve written for? in which case best and worst fandom simultaneously goes to SKAM, worst because the fic culture in this fandom was really stressful and rough on my mental health at times back when i was still actively writing [rip don’t ask me why i’m not writing now believe me i want to so badly but my life is a MESS] and i’m just in general not a huge fan of the level of entitlement and harassment i see leveled toward other writers [which of all the fandoms i’ve written for probably has to be the absolute ugliest] but also best because i’ve met some of my favorite people through writing for the fandom i would otherwise not have gotten to know, which makes up for 100% of the bullshit and then some. so... yeah sorry this is kinda not a very positive answer i just figured i’d be as honest as i could

i’m tagging: 20 people????????????? fuck that i’m just gonna tag like half of that, do it if you want but don’t feel pressured! @boxesfullofthoughts, @call-this-a-mask, @pronouncingitwang, @hotchocolatenthusiast, @fox-muldr, @rumpelsnorcack, @askybison, @minyardv, @of-flowers-and-sunshine, @thelibraryiscool

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Trouble on the Way - Chapter 4/4 (Ao3 link) Fandom: The Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow (total AU) Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Series: Sequel to Bad Moon Rising Warning: explicit adult content

Summary: It occurs to Len that maybe he’s been willfully ignoring reality when it came to Mick’s new condition. Oh, sure, he’d done the basic research, the public stuff, but he’d been so determined not to make Mick feel like any more of a freak than he already did that he’d perhaps skimped a little on some of the details that were turning out to be more relevant than he’d originally thought.

Time to fix that.

A/N: Will only make sense if you’ve read the first one in the series, as it follows straight on it, but I think the first one is one of my best standalones, so I’m making this a sequel instead

An executive decision was made that (in the spirit of the first one) this series is going to be like a minimum of 70% kinky smut, because we can always use more of that in this fandom, so, uh, mind the full set of warnings on Ao3.

———————————————————————————–

Len slouches back against the wall of the bar, hand wrapped around a pint of beer. He's feeling pretty good, all things considered. Sure, the place is loud, rowdy, and smells bad, but the beer is surprisingly decent and the air isn't too smoky. He's found himself a nice corner where he can have his back safely to the wall and he’s all wrapped up in his parka and two layers beneath it, just as he likes it.

Both layers are actually Mick's, actually. Len would've had to be blind to miss how Mick kept sniffing at Len and smiling, especially when Len's in bed or sitting by Mick, not to mention his appreciative comments the day before about Len answering the door for him, so Len had made the obvious calculation and grabbed a button-down Mick had worn a few days ago and dug up an old sweater of Mick’s to go on top of it.

It’d been very successful.

He smirks, remembering how Mick's jaw dropped in a very satisfactory manner when Len strolled out wearing that get up and announced that they were going out to get a drink.

"You've got no fear, do you?" Mick said, shaking his head, getting up and heading towards Len. “Crazy bastard – it’s only the day after the moon –”

"You know you want to go," Len purred in response. "Wanna show me off, don't you?"

Mick groaned and dropped to his knees, crawling forward. "You drive me nuts, Snart," he growled.

Len gulped, watching Mick crawl to him. "Now, Mick," he half-heartedly protested. "We're meant to be heading out."

"Oh, we'll go out," Mick said, running his hands up Len's legs. "We'll go out all right. But I ain't gonna show you off; I don't need to. You're gonna show yourself off, aren't you? Control freak."

Len shrugs. He's a bit of a control freak, it's true.

Mick laughed. "I bet you will," he says fondly. "You're my prize, best in the box." He ducked his head, nuzzling Len's inseam, working his way up Len's inner thigh. "My partner," he rumbled. "Len..."

"I guess we can take a little extra time before going," Len conceded.

"Stick 'em up," Mick said. "And keep 'em there."

Len laced his fingers together behind his head.

"Good."

Mick's fingers made quick work of Len's jeans, popping open the button and unzipping, pulling Len out. He rubbed his cheek against Len’s cock, smirking as Len groaned, and then, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Len’s, Mick leaned down, forgoing any delicacy to wrap his lips around Len’s cock.

“Fuck,” Len croaked.

Mick hummed happily and just went for it. No neatness, no tricks, no subtlety, just Mick doing his goddamn best to drive Len insane.

Len’s knuckles went white keeping his hands behind his head. Turns out years of being able to hold that pose while being searched by angrily policemen who kept smacking at him with batons to try to lure him out of position so they’d have an excuse to beat an allegedly hostile suspect down is absolutely useless when it comes to resisting an amorous werewolf with a wicked sense of humor.

The worst part, of course, is that every time Len’s fingers so much as slipped even slightly out of position, Mick stopped until Len got them back into place.

The challenge somehow made it all the better.

Goddamn Mick. And he says Len's a control freak.

Of course, once Len was done, Mick had gotten all revved up, and well, Len firmly believes in the equality and reciprocity aspects of a good partnership.

Suffice it to say that it'd taken them a good extra hour to get out of the house.

Clearly the answer to Len’s introversion and dislike of loud, rowdy gatherings is to get him into an appropriately mellow post-orgasm-and-brief-nap languor. Len smiles at the memory and shifts a little in his chair. Time to change the direction of his thoughts or else he’d start having trouble sitting still.

Though the idea of pulling Mick into the bathroom for a quickie is intensely appealing...

A trail of iridescent bubbles float into Len’s face, forcing him to wave them off and glare at the offending nereid, who blushes and looks away.

On second thought, maybe this isn’t the right bar to be having quickies in. It's a super bar, which meant that the whole variety of supernatural creatures in Central was on display: wolves and vamps and dryads and selkies, everyone and everything.

No lightning spirits, but Len’s not surprised; the Flash had left a garbled voicemail on Len’s phone saying something about gorillas which Len isn’t touching with a ten-foot pole. Why the Flash is dealing with a zoo problem, Len doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know.

He suspects it’s because the Flash has been particularly protective - read: absurdly over-invested in everything - of Central City ever since his battle royale with that other lightning spirit had spurred on a large black whirling cyclone over the city, destroying large swathes of it. Some people had called it a black hole, which was just frankly ridiculous.

Magic is magic, but you get that close to a black hole, nothing’s going to help you, in Len’s view.

“What’re you thinking?” Mick asks, draining his own beer.

“…nothing much,” Len replies, his mind having wandered off into thinking about how some supernaturals didn’t seem to need to breath the way humans did and wondering about whether supernaturals could travel in space and maybe-not-maybe imagining him and Mick in dashing sci-fi uniforms pirating the galaxy.

“I don’t want to know?”

“No.”

Not until Len has a chance to visit a costume store, anyway.

“Want another drink?”

Len looks down at his still half-filled beer. “You want to start a fight,” he predicts.

Mick beams.

Len shakes his head and slides his beer over to Mick. “Finish that, then get me another,” he orders. “Oh, and tell the bartender I want some fries.”

“Fries it is,” Mick says, finishing Len’s beer in a few swallows. “Oh, and some of those cheese things.”

“Can’t go wrong with cheese,” Len agrees, then watches appreciatively as Mick heads over to the bar. He can’t help but feel a slight frisson of excitement; he’s always enjoyed watching Mick fight when there’s nothing else at stake – a nice bar fight’s always been his favorite part of going out to bars at all – and Mick’s clearly feeling it tonight, smug and satisfied after the moon going so damn well. It’s going to be beautiful.

Sure enough, Mick makes it to the bar, puts in his order, and starts getting into some shit with one of the tough guys hanging out there, some guy in a leather jacket that doesn’t make him look nearly as tough as he thinks it does.

Of course, with Mick, it’s even odds if that’s going to end up in a fight or in Mick finding a new friend, because Mick does that. He’s ridiculously good with people, even if he doesn’t think that he is; it’s all a matter of putting him in the right context.

"Heeeeeeeey," someone says not too far away from Len.

Len tries not to roll his eyes. C'mon, man, at least give her a pick-up line to go with that.

"Hey? I mean, excuse me?"

It takes that long for Len to realize that the person being so badly approached is him.

He turns his head slowly, disbelievingly.

"You're a college student," Len says flatly.

"...I'm into older guys?" the kid tries. He's brunette, short, kinda twink-y. He's got a hearing aid, and his clothing practically screams rich boy. "And I actually graduated early, so..."

"No. Just - no."

"If you'd give me a chance, I could show you -"

Len holds up a hand and, when that doesn't work, pins the kid with a look that cuts him off mid-sentence. "Kid," he says, because he remembers being young and dumb. "Just stop the embarrassment now and move on. For both our sakes."

"But -"

Len's eyes narrow. "Kid, do you know the phrase 'no means no'?"

"...yes?"

"I'm saying no. Now leave before I make my ‘no’ even more clear - and in case that was too subtle, I mean 'before I break your bones'."

The kid slinks away, though not without some sincerely longing looks back at Len.

Len shakes his head in amusement. Guess there's always one. Len knows he's pretty hot, he uses it often enough in trapping marks, but he's not sure how Mick hanging all over him earlier hadn't been clear enough. Hope springs eternal, he supposes.

That first kid was funny.

The next four people who sidle over to hit on him are not.

"You're popular," the stormster who's been sitting a few seats down the bar comments.

"You noticed," Len says dryly.

"That last woman was pretty smoking. Just saying."

"I'm taken," Len says, trying to see where Mick had gotten to - ah, the pool tables, showing some rube what's what. Good man. Fight must've gotten derailed.

"You're Cold, aren't you?" the stormster asks.

Len actually looks at him for that one. "That's me," he says, eyes narrowing until a name pops into his head. "Mardon, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Did you actually try to tsunami the city?"

"Not my finest moment," Mardon concedes, coughing a little in embarrassment. "Anniversary of my little brother's death."

"Tough. My sympathies."

"Thanks."

"Try it again and I'll ice your balls off."

"I have no doubt," Mardon says, wincing. "And you’re not the only one to make his feelings on the subject known. Say, you planning anything coming up? I'm not short or anything, nothing desperate, but, well, ever since the Flash came around, it’s been harder to find good jobs..."

"I might," Len allows. "Why you asking me?"

"You're one of the few people with a good record of pulling shit off against the Scarlet Sparkplug. Figure I'll get in with someone who knows what they're going."

Len hums thoughtfully, thinking about it. On one hand, a supernatural crew would be pretty cool, and Mick never said that their pack had to be wolf-only. On the other hand – tsunami.

“If it changes anything, I’ve hooked up with a wolf myself recently,” Mardon offers. “He’s got some banshee blood, good with electronics, sonic stuff.” He winces a little. "Pretty sure he tried to hit on you earlier, but he's normally better than that."

"Gimme your contact info," Len says. "I'll consider it."

Weather manipulation - you could do a lot with that. Sure, Mardon was clearly more emotional, but if Len could manage Mick, he could easily manage Mardon. Bringing along a tech guy would be good, too, especially if Mick was looking for more wolves. That would also add a new element to Len’s battles against the Flash, which could be interesting…

“Hey, pretty. This seat taken?”

“Yes,” Len says without looking. “Buzz off.”

A heavy hand falls down on Len’s shoulder and spins him around with inhuman force. The guy in front of him is a giant – not literally, since Len supposes it's possible those also exist, but he's a head taller than Len, and Len's not a short man. Even without that, the man has supernatural strength, and Len of course does not. This is a rather unfair match.

Len's favorite type.

"That wasn't very nice, pretty boy," the wolf - and it is a wolf, like Mick, practically half shifted given how goddamn hairy he is, or maybe he just looks like that normally - says, growling out his words.

Len is unimpressed.

The wolf mistakes Len's disdain for fear, or something of the sort, as he then grins, over-long tongue lapping out to lick his lips. "So," he rasps, running the thumb of the hand still clapped onto Len's shoulder along Len's neck, "how you plan to make it up to me?"

Len is deeply unimpressed.

Still, Mick likes this bar. Len will try the diplomatic approach.

"You came up to me," he says flatly. "You asked a question, you got an answer. Now if you know what's good for you, you'll do what I told you the first time and buzz off."

Len never said his diplomatic approach was particularly diplomatic.

The wolf laughs nastily. "I don't think so," he says, still going for the raspy voice. "I think -"

"I don't have any Tylenol on me," Len interjects. "But there's a drugstore down the way."

The wolf blinks, off his stride. "What?"

"For that cold of yours," Len says helpfully. "You keep doing this thing with your voice." He coughs as demonstration.

Mardon sniggers into his drink. He's not the only one.

The wolf's eyes narrow and he tries to rally. "You won't be laughing long," he says, low and threatening. "Not after I drag you down and fuck you right here on the floor, fill you up like a bitch like you needs -"

"As if I'd sleep with anybody so crass as to be half-shifted in a super bar before the fighting's even started," Len says, because his patience for being hit on has gone down to basically nothing, and his patience for threats was never all too great to start with. "And even if I was so stupid, I feel like the bartender might object."

"No one'll object once you're moaning beneath me," the wolf says confidently.

"I won't be," Len says. "Last chance to buzz off before I put you in your place."

The wolf laughs nastily. "You're expecting your dumb brute wolf of a partner to come rescue you? Well, I don't think -"

"You don't think," Len says, his voice cold, because being rude to Len in an attempt to start a fight is entirely understandable, but insulting Mick is just uncalled for. "And you clearly don't listen either, since I said I would put you in your place."

"You?" the wolf scoffs. "What could you do to me?"

"Well," Len drawls, "you're a big strong werewolf, stronger and faster than I'll ever be, and little old me's got nothing -"

The wolf smirks and tries to speak.

"- except a gun aimed at your hip and loaded with amped up silver rounds, of course."

The wolf straights up immediately, his eyes dropping down to Len’s lap where, indeed, Len has pulled out his regular-style gun - more subtle than the cold gun, luckily - and is aiming it at the wolf with all appearances of casualness.

Len’s an adrenaline junkie, not stupid. Why in the world would he go to a supernatural bar, filled to the brim with creatures that prey on mankind, in order to start a bar fight and not bring a weapon specifically tailored for the supernatural?

"I'd shoot you before you got a step closer," Len says meditatively. "Since wolves aren't anywhere near faster than guns, I’d hit you, too. And while you'd stagger back, trying to rip it out of your flesh - you'd succeed, of course, this bar's got a no-killing-whatever-reason banning rule - I'd pull out my cold gun, which can freeze lightning in its tracks, and I'd see you well you fare for a month or two re-growing that foot of yours from frostbite."

The wolf is gaping at him. Len lets his eyes flicker across the room, taking its measure - they have an audience, but they mostly seem neutral or in Len's favor, good, and then adds, "But I'm not going to do that."

"You're...not?" the wolf says, clearly puzzled. Possibly a little hopeful that it meant that Len was softening to his beyond-terrible approach, because he clearly doesn't have any intelligence whatsoever.

"No," Len says, and leans back onto the bar. "See, my 'wolf of a partner', as you call him, has been wanting to get into a fight since we arrived, and -" here Len smirks "-he's coming up right behind you."

The wolf spins around just in time for a few hundred pounds of enraged Mick Rory to hit him dead on.

There's roars and shouting all around as they roll away from Len and into the middle of the crowd, spectators rushing in to watch and cheer.

Len leans back triumphantly and gestures to the bartender with the hand that isn't holding the gun - he doesn't lie about guns unless he has to. "Another beer," he says to the amused looking djinn-of-many-bodies' closest incarnation. "And I believe my partner put in an order for fries and those cheese things?"

"Coming right up," the bartender replies, shaking his head in amusement.

"Thanks, Damian."

"It's only going to make it worse, you know," Damian tells him before disappearing, likely to join up with the version of him that works in the kitchen.

Len's not entirely sure what he means, but Mardon's nodding along. "Good luck," Mardon says before Len can think of a way to react. "I'll look you up in a few days for that job - if I can get past the line at your door, that is!" He roars with laughter.

Len dearly wants to ask what the hell Mardon thinks he's talking about, but he doesn't because Mardon wants to work with him, and that means maintaining an air of competence even when faced with unexpected insinuations of knowledge.

Mardon drains his drink and salutes Len before heading out the door. Len nods at him, then starts brainstorming what it could possibly mean.

Presumably Mardon's talking about all the people hitting on Len. Maybe the sorceress' malediction backfired off of Mick and onto Len in reverse, making him irresistibly attractive to people instead of making Mick irresistibly attracted to them? But if so, how could Mardon tell? He didn't seem affected.

Was there some sort of guidebook supernaturals got when they turned? Because damnit, Len needs one of those.

"Pardon me," a chirpy voice says. "I don't mean to interrupt, but that was a most impressive display."

You've got to be kidding. Not another one already.

Shit, if it’s related to the malediction, Len'd better take this to STAR Labs sooner rather than later, embarrassing as it might be.

He turns to tell the guy what's what, then stares. "Do you have a death wish?" he asks Mr. Beige-and-Pastels from the day before. "First you come to my door, now you come up to me in a bar? You stalking me or something? Because I will put an end to that, you hear me-"

"I am sorry about yesterday," the guy interrupts apologetically. He still sounds chirpy and cheerful. Len didn’t even know you could sound apologetic and chirpy at the same time. "It was the moon, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

Len would hurt him right now if he wasn't so obviously oblivious. And almost professionally good-natured sounding. He's got to be in some sort of sales position; no one naturally has that type of smooth yet bland cheeriness. Oddly familiar, actually.

"Don't see how that's my problem," Len points out.

"I understand entirely, and it's my fault for burdening you at that time -" Well, an apology is always appreciated, Len supposes. "-but I was hoping that we could start again fresh, on a better foot."

People actually say that in real life? Len had thought it was just sitcoms.

Also...

"You remember that I pulled a gun on you, right?" Len asks skeptically. "I don't see why you're so hot and bothered to be making my acquaintance despite that."

"No, no, it was perfectly understandable! You were defending your home base from intruders."

Supernaturals support 'stand your ground' laws; Len is not even a little surprised. Territorial bastards, the whole lot of them - though he guesses it helps to have rapid healing abilities when it comes to forgiving people for being trigger-happy. You forgive a lot more if you’re not dead.

"Uh-huh," Len says, crossing his arms and giving the guy a skeptical look, hoping to convey that this conversation was going nowhere.

Though this guy did keep reminding him of someone he swears he's met before.

The guy coughs a bit. "Yes, well," he says. "That's in the past now. I was just hoping to introduce myself, properly this time - my name is Dan, and I -"

Wait.

Wait a goddamn second.

"Hotline Dan?" Len asks, because that voice is goddamn unmistakable now that the guy’s not high up on moon-day hormones. "What the fuck?"

The guy - Dan, freaking family-friendly telemarketer hotline Dan - looks just as taken aback as Len.

“You’ve called the supernatural assistance line?” he asks, blinking. “Well, that’s forward-thinking of you.”

“We talked literally the day before yesterday! You hung up on me!”

“I did?”

Len resists the temptation to say 'Yes! You did!' because he has the feeling that they'd just end up going in circles. "I asked some questions about sexual practices and new mates," he says, pinning hotline Dan with a glare. "You called me a pervert and told me to get stuffed."

Dan blinks rapidly. "I - uh - I mean – well, regardless, it seems to have gone very well for you, I'd say?"

Len's jaw drops a little. This guy is an idiot. He's not actually trying to say –

"After all, you and your mate have certainly had a very fruitful and enjoyable full moon, it appears,” Dan says, trying on an ingratiating smile.

Yes. He's actually trying to comment on Mick and Len's sex life. In public.

Len wonders for a wild moment if him killing the guy would qualify for the Darwin Awards. Surely this counts as an intentional attempt to remove yourself from the gene pool..?

"It's quite obvious he's, ah, treating you well," Dan adds, clearly totally misinterpreting Len's expression and deciding to dig that hole of his a few feet deeper. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, we can all smell how thorough he was -"

"I showered twice," Len says, vaguely horrified. It’s not that he cares that people know – he’d be wearing a turtleneck if that were the case, because his neck currently resembles a goddamn disaster zone for how many hickies Mick worked long and hard on – but…seriously?

Dan coughs. "Well, it's your first moon," he offers. "After a few, when the mating bond settles down, your scents will merge and it will be less obvious. Well, that or -"

"What's this about the mating thing not having settled?" Len asks, interrupting. He doesn't like the sound of that. He’d thought things were settled – he and Mick were going to keep being excessively co-dependent partners, as Lisa likes to say, except with the addition of regular sex, backrubs and pancakes. Mick's not going with any goddamn pack. "I thought - what more does there need to be?"

Dan blinks. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't know, that's why I'm asking," Len says. Years of keeping his temper in the face of aggravation are the only reason he’s not ripping off Dan’s head right now. "You're the hotline guy, so talk."

“Huh, I would have thought you would,” Dan says, and seems uninterested in continuing.

Okay, that’s it.

“Well, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me?” Len snarls, catching Dan's arm and reeling him in closer. His answers are right in front of him and guess what, hotline Dan? You can't hang up on a guy in person.

"...you're very attractive when you do that," Dan croaks.

"Seriously?!"

"It's not my fault! Mates are measured on a certain scale of desirability and you - well, you're very desirable."

Len scoffs. He knows he's hot; he doesn't need fluffing up. But after the first glance, most people figured out that he was a notorious violent criminal-slash-supervillain and dropped it. The guns and his general misanthropy usually helped with that. "Yeah, to a very specific audience."

"No, generally!" Dan insists, looking surprised. "You must know - to a wolf, you're really something very special."

Len rolls his eyes. Very special, his ass, what sort of pick up line –

"Wait," he says, suspicion rising up in his mind. "Has everybody who's been hitting on me been a wolf?"

"Well, I'd imagine so," Dan says. "You're in competition."

"I'm in what?!"

"A pack is judged by the strength of the wolf and the will of the mate," Dan says. Len vaguely recalls him saying something like that on the phone, but it hadn't seemed all that important, more metaphorical than anything else, really.

He'd forgotten that to supernaturals, metaphor often was reality.

"There are a number of established packs in the city," Dan is continuing. "Most wolves are involved in them because of the social instinct, the need to be a part of something, and because the competition between packs is pretty fierce, and violent."

"No shit," Len says. "They're beating out the gangs for the most territorial scuffles this year."

Not to mention the Families themselves, which is pretty impressive. Len never thought he'd see the day when there was any organizations more persnickety about maintaining territory lines than the goddamn Families.

Of course, the fact that the relevant organizations are werewolf packs goes a long way to redeeming it in Len's mind.

The police's as well, since unlike the gangs or the Families, the wolf packs generally fight with tooth and claw, not guns, and had a lot less collateral damage as a result. Really, as long as you didn't run straight into a wolf brawl you could walk down the street across from one without fearing for your life.

Scared the rubes, though. Central City homeowners wondering how to deal, please press one.

"Well, that's the danger in starting a new pack, you see," Dan says. He's incredibly earnest. Almost painfully so. "A new pack with no members starts at the bottom - unless they can find a mate that's strong and proud and willful. That'll give them a leg up."

"You're joking," Len says, unable to resist his skepticism. "Finding a girlfriend - or a boyfriend, or a non-binaryfriend, whatever - is no substitute for strength in numbers."

Dan shrugs. "For wolves, it is," he says. "That's why you're so desirable. You're strong and your will is -" His eyes drift a little closed. "It's really something..."

"You are being used as an information source," Len says. "Nothing more. Stop hitting on me."

"You can’t hold me responsible! You took on another wolf!" Dan protests. "Several, even! By yourself!"

"Not in an actual fight,” Len points out, even though he’s got the feeling this argument is well and thoroughly lost.

"Physical strength is only half the story," Dan says dismissively. "The will is what's important - you defended yourself, your homestead, you stood steadfastly by your mate -"

"We've been partners thirty years," Len says. "Well before the werewolf crap. Of course I'm standing by him."

"Most wolves don't have that. It's why he was able to claim you as a mate - a declaration that he's starting a new pack, a brazen challenge to the rest of the wolves in the city, to the established order."

Brazen challenge to the establishment. Yeah, that sounded like Mick.

"And, naturally, the competitive instinct of the remaining wolves gets fueled by that, and everyone simply had to go see you and judge you, to see what sort of pack is being formed."

Len sighs. He remembers Mick said something about showing off Len. He'd thought Mick meant more in the strutting about and preening about getting laid on the regular going forward sense, which he supposes this is just a more elaborate version of.

“And then, of course, you reacted so excellently – it was clear to all who looked that any wolf that won you for their own would be able to form a strong pack, and thus the competition began.”

“Competition for me,” Len says flatly.

“It’s traditional,” Dan says.

“For me. Because they want – what? To date me for independence and pack-power? Everyone wants a new pack?”

“Well,” Dan says, flushing a little, “if you were to mate with someone who was already in an established pack, your power would be added to that pack’s power, and therefore there would be a readjustment of the power dynamics regardless…”

“Now you’re definitely fucking with me,” Len says. “You can’t expect me to believe the power dynamics in Central City get reshuffled every time a wolf gets laid.”

“No, no! Just mates. Mates are – it’s different.”

“So why’s the competition for me?” Len asks suspiciously. “Wouldn’t getting Mick to join a pack work just as well?”

“It would,” Dan says. “Though if a wolf has claimed a mate – it’s quite rare, actually, the commitment involved on both sides is immense and necessarily mutual, far more like a marriage than a relationship –”

Len got werewolf-married because of a sex spell?

He’s never telling Lisa.

She’ll die laughing and then resurrect herself just to make sure he never lives it down.

Not that he objects to being married to Mick – they’re already married for tax and testifying purposes, after all, and now they get to add sex to the mix, so no harm, no foul – but still. Something that should’ve probably been mentioned.

Though in fairness, Mick was somewhat distracted at the time...

“– and of course assuming the mate is considered widely desirable, the likelihood of a wolf in the midst of competitive fever, with his focus fixed on pleasing and winning his mate, showing off that he’s the best, would agree to join a pack at that time…”

“Not high,” Len says. “Good.”

“I don’t suppose you would be amenable to meeting a few –”

Len gives Dan a Look.

“…I suppose not.”

“No. Now, one thing I still don’t get. How does dating someone – fine, marrying someone – make you more powerful?”

“It doesn’t,” Dan says. “But if a mate is filled with magical strength -"

"I don't have magic," Len objects. He's one of the few of the Flash's enemies that doesn't, in fact; it's well known.

"But a wolf does," Dan says. "And it would be reflected in the strength of your character. Not in terms of your virtues as regular civilization would have it," he adds hastily, foreseeing Len's obvious retort. "But in what wolves see as attractive. Your sharp mind, your observant eyes, your ruthlessness, your violence, your protective instinct, your loyalty, your wariness -"

"My paranoia is a selling point now?"

"We're wolves," Dan points out. "We may be men, too, but some of our instincts still harken back to the forest."

"But real wolves don't kill or be killed," Len insists, recalling some of those goddamn Animal Planet/Discovery Channel documentaries Mick's gotten into. "Their structure allows for -"

"That's 'cause we're not real wolves," Mick says, panting a little from exertion, sweating, but grinning broadly. He's clearly the victor - Len can see the other wolf limping away, scowling and nursing his well-deserved injuries. "We’re men, too, and mankind’s the most vicious, territorial bastard species on the planet. What're you talking about?"

"The fact that I'm apparently the newest hot girl in school," Len says dryly.

Mick loops an arm over Len’s shoulder. “That you are,” he says, grinning with a bit of teeth at Dan, who skitters a step or two backwards in a way that even Len can tell is respectful and please-don’t-rip-my-head-off-for-flirting-with-your-mate. “My hot girl. Or guy. Or neither. However you’re feeling today.”

“And all this apparently has some sort of impact on pack politics in Central,” Len says pointedly.

“We’re going to have the best pack,” Mick says happily, totally missing Len’s attempt to flag to him that maybe they should have talked about this. “Relax, Snart; it’s me beating up people who hit on you. You like watching that anyway.”

“Point,” Len concedes. He does like watching that. Mick in action in Len’s defense has always had appeal – almost a feudal sort of feeling, a man fighting in your name and for your (mostly non-existent) honor.

Yeah, that wasn’t so bad. Len could live with that, a few fights by Mick, giving them time to collect the best pack in the city – like Len would accept anything less than the best –

Though Len’s not getting caught flat-footed again. He and Mick are going to be having a long chat about what to expect next, and Mick’s not getting out of it with pancakes this time.

Actually, now that Len thinks about it –

“Say,” he says. “How long is this whole competition thing going to last, anyway? Till the next moon?”

“Oh, no,” Dan says. “A season or two, at least.”

“Half a year?”

Dan nods happily. “Yes, of course,” he says. “Possibly up to a year. Or until you get pregnant, of course, that would quite settle the issue.”

Len snorts. “Not sure if the competition’s starting to get to your head, but I’m still a guy.”

“And we’re wolves,” Dan says, sounding puzzled. “Supernatural biology utilizes a magical capacity for childbirth in order to enable pregnant individuals to continue fighting without significant impairment; any supernatural being, regardless of gender, is capable of impregnating any other being, regardless of gender.”

"Well, that seems like something that ought to be on the hotline before getting hung up on -" Len starts to say, snide and insulting, before it hits him.

Specifically, the very hot but – he’d assumed – theoretical dirty talk Mick had been pouring into his ear the last few days.

Dirty talk that accompanied the also very hot but very unprotected sex they've been having.

“Mick!"

"What? What'd I do?"

Len groans. This is going to take a while.

[thephilosophersapprentice]

[clears throat] h i l m n o q s t w v z because i'm a terrible person

My brain tried to resolve that into “Hi I’m noquist” and I was what.

H: How would I describe my style? Descriptive. Overly flowery, but in a gritty sort of way. Detail-oriented. My friend suggested “Tolkien” but I was like nah it’s more of a cross between Tolkien and C.S. Forester (if you don’t know who that is. AT LEAST READ ABOUT HORNBLOWER BEFORE YOU COME BACK. And consider watching the movies with Ioan Gruffudd.)

I: My guilty pleasure… writing friendship scenes. Generally between characters from two different fandoms. I know, I’m weird. I don’t do the shippy ship. Instead, I like reading about people being platonic and awesome.

L: The weirdest AU I’ve ever come up with… well, the three-way crossover with Doctor Who, Hornblower and Forever is up there, as is the Doctor Who/Star Wars one. But the absolute weirdest AU I’ve ever come up with was to genderbend Anakin and Obi-Wan and put them and Ahsoka as officers on a privateer during the Napoleonic Wars.

M: Premises… let’s see… Well, there’s a couple of stories experimenting with gods as relates to science–specifically, people using science to create gods. They have nothing to do with most of my fanfics, honestly. They’re all original stories. Other than that, I have a steampunk/gaslamp story with a sort of Nazgul-like villain (aka human beings who were corrupted by Evil and Necromancy and Misuse of Magic-type stuff.) It doesn’t sound as awesome as it is because I haven’t mentioned any characters specifically.

N: Yes. It’s a very specific feeling, the ache as you search for something and then realize it doesn’t exist and then realize again that you wouldn’t be the right person to write it. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any specific examples at the moment.

O: It depends. Sometimes the plot comes first and the characters come later. Other times I’ll have characters but no plot and it comes to me slowly. I don’t really have a preference for one way or the other. It’s easier if I know the characters first, though.

Q: Discarded projects. Well, discarded scenes happen in every project (I had to delete my favorite scene from my screenwriting final project last year), and I generally have a couple of documents just full of snatches, vague ideas, because I hate to waste anything, and inspiration comes so dear. But my first discarded project… Probably the plotless Star Wars post-Original Trilogy fanfiction that sprawled out to 425 pages and had no defined direction or structure. Most of my other projects end up salvaged into another shape, but the Robin Hood retelling is awaiting new inspiration and the Arthurian legends novel about Lancelot’s son became a retelling of the legend from Mordred’s point of view.

S: Any fandom tropes I can’t resist? Well… Most AUs are hard to resist, particularly a well-envisioned historical AU. I’m not into coffee shops or very into high school/college AUs (though, I will read Hornblower college AUs so long as they’re not too shippy. I keep headcanoning Horatio as being ace, despite the source material saying otherwise. I even have my own Hornblower college AU where Horatio, Archie and William are all members of a study group. Horatio’s going into science with an advanced mathematics degree, Archie is undeclared and William is a history major.) I’m also a big fan of character development and particularly missing scenes (I was so mad that we never get to see the Doctor just being a father to Miranda in “Father Time” but more about that another time.) Fantasy AUs, sci-fi AUs or paranormal AUs–it kind of depends on what it’s trying to do and what it does manage to accomplish, but I do like them.

T: Tropes I can’t stand… well, I don’t read smut for one. I also don’t like a lot of ships because I personally can’t see them ever happening. I don’t particularly care for straight-up romance but I will read romance if it’s a subplot to something else (i.e. a crime thriller or suspense.) A lot of genderbend which has the potential to be fantastic turns out terrible because of poor writing or insufficient fleshing-out of the concept, or maybe just because the writer doesn’t have enough imagination, and that’s really sad to me. I also dislike omegaverse or whatever it’s called.

V: A secondary character I want to see more of: I HAVE TO PICK JUST ONE?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? If Obi-Wan and Ahsoka qualify (because Anakin Freaking Skywalker hogs the bloody spotlight all the time), I want to see more of them teaming up! I like Captain Jack Harkness, but the fanon has actually done right by him. I like Martha Jones. She seems to be unpopular, which annoys me because she is awesomeness incarnate. I like Mace Windu and I feel like he’s way too underappreciated, and portrayed as stern and unimaginative, which he definitely is not. I also like Elrond and I wish there was more fic about Elladan and Elrohir because what’s their story? I NEED TO KNOW MORE GUYS. Also there’s Claire Temple but apparently she’s going the rounds of Netflix superheroes so maybe that one isn’t justified. But the number one secondary character I NEED more fanfic about is the unnamed (?) priest from Daredevil because he’s seen a lot and I want to hear more of his advice and about his experience, which we won’t necessarily get from the show because, even though it’s Netflix, there’s still time constraints going there. And that’s really the fantastic thing about fanfiction, right? You can go anywhere or do anything and don’t have to worry about losing your audience because your audience practically selects itself. You can write about really niche things that would never make it on TV or as a book and people will LOVE IT.There’s also a few OCs I’d read fic about because I got to know them in another fic (about the canon characters) and I want to know more about them too.

W: Sometimes a general prompt isn’t enough for me. I tend to prefer the absurdly specific ones, because they will spark off concepts where general ones won’t.

Z: Major character death–better known as the biggest point of contention when it comes to fanfic. Yes, I have written it. Yes, I condone it, but mostly in one-shots because I can’t imagine living without those characters for long. There are a few characters who are ABSOLUTELY OFF-LIMITS, though: mostly supporting cast who deserved better, such as Foggy Nelson and Ahsoka Tano. I also can’t forgive anyone who wrote Jack Frost getting killed off or Steve Rogers either, and if you killed off Falcon I’d probably come and smack you with the frying pan of my URL because you can’t possibly have a good reason for doing that… Yeah, there’s a list.