#wip: about knives and spoons

[napollya-inspiration]

Welcome back to another WIP Wednesday. Even though I have been working more on Lovestruck, I've decided to share some more rowing with y'all. I'm still deep in the enemies phase so...

(rule: post a snippet from your current wip to share with everyone, tag others to participate)

“Maybe you should stick to the exercise we are all trying to accomplish together,” Napoleon hisses. “Instead of pretending you are any better than us who have all medaled in this boat before.” Illya snorts. “You are 3V boat for a reason. It is obvious. Victor loses rhythm at low rates. You rush your recovery and then let shoulder drop which makes your blade sky. Logan muscles his stroke and drops his hands at the catch. The boat has been set for maybe a total of two strokes throughout this entire practice. None of you would survive a row in a single.” Napoleon tilts his head, eyes cold. “Then why are you here, huh? You transferred halfway through your major but not to any school with a great program. No, you came to Laurelhurst. A school that doesn’t even have a sculling program. You would have had your pick after the World Championships and you know it. Instead, you decided to stay in Russia. Until now.”  Illya feels the blood in his veins start to boil. He knows exactly where this is headed. Napoleon cannot know. No one had made an official statement. “I don’t know what you did but you fell from grace all the way here. It’s not for lack of trying by the way. I found one of your old teammates online. Hey, Peril, is it true your mother took money for-” Illya doesn’t know how it happens. One moment he’s in his seat; the next, he has Napoleon hanging off the side of the boat, his nose and Illya’s knuckles bloody. “Hey! HEy!” Illya is distantly aware of the shouting around him, but all he can see is Napoleon’s smug grin and his bust lips forming the words, “you’re out.”

No pressure tag going out to @cha-melodius @heytheredeann @justabigoldnerd @bighandsforabigheart @pippinoftheshire

[luffyszoo]

i want soft dom reader with sanji. i just wanna call him pet names and give him compliments so he believes it for once, all while hes destroying my insides ofc

Sanji x Reader 🔞 (smutt with plot)

Part 1 Part 2 (wip)

A/N: HII i’m back! For some reason i have a lot of ideas for this fanfic. so i decided to split this into 2 parts. because it was already 19k words until i had to shorten it LMAO please note this is the first part. so things will start spurring up in part 2 which i already have a good chunk of it done, just please be patient! <3

word count: 16K

CW, this fic will contain nsfw mixed with angst… (also the use of “y/n” i try my best not to use it but i had to.)

Sanji’s back on the ship now. You and the Strawhats are heading to Wano. But something’s wrong with Sanji. He hides it well from the others, but it’s clear that you and Luffy can tell something’s off. He’s more distant. I mean, who can blame him? Having to go back to your abusive family after years of trying to forget the horrible things that happened to you? That’s a kind of pain you couldn’t even imagine.

But still it hurt you to see Sanji so depressed.

Once a cook who was happy and always ready for anything, he’s turned into someone who seems chained to the kitchen. Cooking being one of his coping mechanisms, of course he’ll give the crew random dishes, even though none of them asked for dinner yet…

“Thanks, Sanji!” the others will cheer, seeing the delicious plate in front of them. So many different dishes, ones that originated from all over. A lot of them looked rich, complicated, and honestly, it was kind of clear he was going through something. The harder the dish, the more his heart must have ached over what happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the words his father spat at him before he left that island. Wounds he thought were healed, buried—just seemed to rip open again the moment he was forced to face the truth about his past.

“Useless.”

“Disgusting.”

Every time Sanji closed his eyes, all he could see were his brothers laughing at him. Bound in that cage. That damn metal helmet forced on his head. The hopelessness he felt when they said he was weaker than them. Not like he didn’t know that already. Of course he knew.

It’s all they ever said to him, every day, just to break him.

He was cooking all day. He’s tired. His hands feel kind of weak now. It’s like he’s made every dish you could possibly think of for his friends. The sink had a couple of plates, forks, butter knives in it. When he turned around, he saw the mess he made himself. Pots. Bigger spoons. Tools scattered everywhere. He sighed at the sight. Rolling up his sleeves, his hands moved numbly grabbing the sponge and soap. He picked up a plate and started scrubbing the leftover sauce or food that stuck to it. His mind was blank. He tried not to think of what happened. Because if he isn’t thinking about that, he’s thinking of nothing. His eyes were empty, just staring at the plate, his reflection faint in the center. His fingers shifted slightly with each new utensil he cleaned.

Once Sanji finished, it was time for a smoke break. The apron he wore was now off and hung on the wall by a hook.

Grabbing his pack of cigarettes, he opened it only to see one left.

Damn.

There’s no way he smoked that much, right?

He scratched the back of his head, trying to replay the day and count how many he actually had. Didn’t really help much.

But he knew that one cigarette wasn’t enough, not for the shitty few days he was having.

He sighed, taking the last one and stepping outside. The sun was just going down, a soft red and orange glow casting across his face—and the Thousand Sunny. Looking out at the water was… something he could stare at forever. The ocean matched the sky’s color. Sparkles of light danced on the surface, and down below, little fish swam close to the Sunny, as if they were following it. Gentle waves hit the bottom of the ship, making a soft whssp sound each time water met wood. He enjoyed the view. The weather was nice, too.

A soft but cold breeze brushed across his face, making his hair blow gently with the wind. From behind him, he could hear soft, slow familiar footsteps. But he couldn’t tell who it was He narrowed his eyes at the thought of having to talk to someone but he didn’t mind it, either.

God, these emotions he had were so mixed. Can’t he just be a normal fucking person—?

“Hey…”

voice was soft, followed with a casual small smile. You leaned gently on the railings of the ship, only your fingertips gripping the flat, white painted wood. You were nervous. You’d noticed Sanji’s behavior ever since you all left the island. The change in his energy. The way he’d isolate in the kitchen, pouring too much of himself into meals no one even asked for. You’d wanted to talk to him about it for so long, you had so many things you wanted to say. But now, standing beside him in the orange-pink light of the dying sun, your mind felt blank.

Nervousness? Definitely.But not because you were scared of Sanji’s reaction. It was more the fear that maybe, nothing you said would comfort him in the way he needed. Sanji wanted to seem like he was as happy as he could be. But he definitely didn’t have the energy to keep up the act he’d been putting on all day.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, offering a seemingly genuine smile. “What brings you here?”

You saw through it immediately. That smile wasn’t real. And you were determined to get the truth out of him.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound casual as possible. “Just noticed you here. Thought I’d say hi. You’ve been in the kitchen for a while, no? Cooking so many meals for us lately.” You fake-chuckled, pretending like the conversation hadn’t been rehearsed in your head over and over again. You knew how you wanted to start. The hard part would be seeing if you could keep up with him and his emotions, if he’d actually did open up.

Sanji snorted softly. “Well, yeah. Can’t leave my crewmates going unfed. What kind of cook would that make me?” He avoided eye contact. His gaze stayed fixed on the waves below. He started to lightly ruffle his hair with one hand—a habit you’d noticed before. You weren’t quite sure if he even realized he did it when he was nervous. Maybe it was just instinct. He ruffled it with the same hand holding his cigarette. The tip burned slowly down. A small pile of ash had formed on the railing in front of him, scattered where he kept flicking it without much thought.

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured, resting a finger gently to your chin. “You sure you’re not going through something right now?” Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked at him. He could feel it, that weight of your concern hovering over him like a shadow. He knew what you were trying to get at.

But he didn’t want to talk about it. Not really.

“Why would I be going through something?” he replied, shrugging a little as he flicked the cigarette again. Another bit of ash fell lazily down to the small pile. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t need to, he already knew you weren’t buying it.

“Well, that thing with your parents, and the wedding.” His face looked relaxed like you’d just brought up something as casual as the weather. Sanji exhaled a small stream of smoke. “Your point being?” He finally glanced at you. But it wasn’t full eye contact, his head stayed facing forward, his eyes just shifting halfway toward you. “As much as I love you for the fact that you care about me, and that you’re worrying… you’re overthinking this.” He turned his body a bit, finally facing you. His expression unreadable, tone still calm. Detached.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Yeah. Right.

Like you were gonna fall for that.

You crossed your arms, “Riiight…” you dragged out the word, especially the middle syllable, just to make it very clear you weren’t buying anything he was selling. “And I’m not supposed to believe those five-star meals are just you being a ‘good cook,’ huh?”

You finger-quoted that last part for emphasis.

Blunt? Yeah, maybe.

But pretending everything was okay wasn’t your style. Never has been. And honestly? You didn’t think it should be anyone’s. Watching Sanji throw himself into this exhausting act putting up smiles, serving meals like clockwork, burying his pain in butter and saffron, it was starting to wear on you.

It irritated you. Because you knew. You both knew. This wasn’t fine. And he hadn’t said a damn thing.

Not yet, at least.

His body flinched by your words, just barely. but you saw it. “What are you trying to say?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Sanji?”

“No.”

His expression wasn’t angry. Just tired.

“I knew. Ever since the day after we left the island.” You added, voice softer but firmer now. “The dishes. The overly used smile you’ve been wearing all day. it doesn’t feel like you.”

He avoided your eyes again. That same move. That subtle withdrawal. You knew how hard it must be for him, someone so used to hiding pain behind charm to be confronted like this. But he’d left you no choice. What if no one ever talked to him about it? Leaving him to carry the weight he’d been dragging since Whole Cake Island? He would’ve drowned in it. And that thought alone made your chest ache. You didn’t even want to imagine what kind of dark place he would’ve ended up in, how much more depressed he might be by now if no one reached out. His jaw clenched a little. The cigarette burned too low for another drag, but he didn’t flick it away. Just held it there.

“I told you… I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly near the end.

You didn’t interrupt. You waited. Watched him as he seemed to wrestle with the words in his throat.

“I..” a big exhale from his mouth, making his chest move up, and down slowly. “I talked to Luffy,” he insisted. “We already had this conversation. I told him everything I needed to say. He understood. So, yeah—I’m fine now.”

He nodded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. But you could see it.

That was only half the truth. He did talk to Luffy. You could see the impact it had on him. But there was something he still hadn’t said out loud. Something still gnawing at him.

“So you talked to Luffy, and that magically made your problems go away?” you shot back, your tone sharper now. “That’s it? All better? Wow, I should just talk to Luffy about all of my problems if it’s so easy.”

Sanji stiffened.

“Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m fine now?” finally looking at you “Can I not talk about my family? I’m getting irritated.” He snaps his head toward the ocean.

You took a step closer. You weren’t angry, not really. But the way he kept trying to brush everything under the rug like it didn’t matter, it was maddening.

“No, Sanji. I’m not looking for anything. I see it. In your face, in your hands, and face when you give out food. The way you can’t even finish a sentence about yourself without having to switch it to the other person.”

He turned his head sharply, jaw tightening again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The silence between you both felt heavy He looked away again. His voice came softer this time. Almost like a whisper. “I want to be okay…” he said. “I want to be okay. That talking with Luffy really did fix it. But..” His voice broke completely then, cracking in the middle like something inside finally gave way.

“But it didn’t.”

“It’s hot,” he exhaled through his mouth, pulling at his collar, his fingers shaking. “The heat is pissing me off… Why did it get so hot all of a sudden out here?!” But it hadn’t. The weather hadn’t changed. The breeze was still cool, the sunset still soft on both of your skins. He was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to say any of that. Words came out like they were pulled straight from the pit of his stomach. You could see it in his face, he was upset at himself for letting it slip. Furious that he has to feel this again for the same reason. His shoulders were tense, his hands trembling.

He still hadn’t looked at you again. “Sanji,” you said softly but firm enough to break through whatever storm he had spinning in his head. He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched again, his chest rising and falling too fast. You could hear how uneven his breathing had gotten, like he was stuck between wanting to talk and cry.

So you reached out, slowly pressing a hand to his chest. Right over his heart. His breath caught, it’s gotten just a little slower by your touch. You could feel it beneath your hand, his heartbeat, fast and uncontrollable… As you stood there, it started to slow down. And strangely, your own breath began to match his. Like your presence alone was helping him find steady ground again. That’s when you leaned in, arms sliding around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

Tucking your chin over his shoulder, wrapping your arms snug around his neck, your fingertips lightly brushing against his hair at the nape. The way you held him. You weren’t letting him slip through the cracks again. Sanji froze. Like the warmth of you against him stunned him more than anything else could’ve. Then slowly, awkwardly, his arms came up around your waist. His hands hesitated, hovering for a moment before they landed fully, fingertips flinching at every new place they touched, like he didn’t trust himself to hold you right. But eventually they settled.

He melted into your hug slowly, like it was something he didn’t realize he needed until his body gave in to it. The ship creaked faintly in the background, the distant waves and the sky. In this moment, everything else faded into a kind of quiet that pressed gently around you both. His chest rose and fell against yours fast at first, then easing.

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your voice barely rose above the sea breeze. Like you were afraid too much volume might shatter the moment. There was a pause. Not stiff. Just long, Sanji was replaying what you said in his head. Did he really want to talk about it? If he did, would you see him as weak? With the time he had to think about it. He agreed, sighing deeply but slow of relief. “Yeah.” His voice cracked just a little. But there was no shame in it.

You pulled back gently, just enough to see his face, but you didn’t let go of him. His eyes didn’t meet yours, not yet. But his hand found yours as if on instinct. Fingers brushing, testing… then curling around yours with quiet need Hand in hand, you started walking across the deck, your footsteps light on the wood beneath you. Sanji led you toward his room. For the first time since these past few days, he finally had someone to be honest with.

The silence in Sanjis room was very bothersome, you both didn’t know where to start. During the silence, you examined his room. You’d been in Sanji’s room before. Dropped off spices he asked for, borrowed a deck of cards once. Stood awkwardly in the doorway while he scolded Luffy for sneaking snacks. So you knew how he usually kept it. Tidy, and practical. A little stylish without trying too hard.

But now? It wasn’t a mess. Not completely. But it wasn’t like him. The desk in the corner had two books stacked neatly, but another one sat open next to them pages creased, like he meant to finish the paragraph and never came back. A pen rolled to the edge, dangerously close to falling. His drawers weren���t closed all the way. One of them hung halfway open, and inside you could see clothes that looked like they’d been folded once and then shoved in quickly, half of them sticking out like he lost the energy halfway through.

Even his scent usually sharp and warm, like cloves with a mix of tobacco and the faintest trace of cologne. It felt duller in here. Lingering in the corners like it hadn’t been refreshed in a while.

“I thought…” he hesitated, breath catching and scratching his blonde wavy hair at the top of his head. “I thought if I just gave them what they wanted, if I let them use me, marry me off, then it would stop. All of it. And no one else would have to get dragged into it.”

He let out a shaky breath, brow furrowing.

“And I know it was stupid. I know that now. But back then?” He shook his head. “It made sense. Giving up on myself made sense.” You didn’t move. Your eyes stayed on Sanji jas be poured out his heart.

“I felt horrible,” he muttered. “For leaving. For not saying anything. For the way I looked at all of you when you showed up to bring me back.”rubbing at his jaw, eyes still on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze, he can’t believe he’s really saying everything. His voice cracked again. “But instead I got put on blast. Everything, everything I ever tried to forget about myself, just thrown out in front of them. Nami, Brook, and Chopper…” His voice trailed off. He sucked in a breath, like it physically hurt to name them.

“I saw the way they looked at me,” he whispered. “Not in disgust. Not pity, either. Worse. It was shock. Like they couldn’t even imagine the version of me that came from such a family. And for a second, I hated that. I hated that they had to see it.” His hands curled tighter in his lap.

“I wanted to keep everyone safe. Leaving was the only way out, especially with the circumstances we were in. And then,” He scoffed suddenly.

“Luffy.” He spat the name with a frustrated smile tugging at his lips, like it made him feel pathetic just to say it aloud. “That idiot had to come find me.“ He shook his head, biting back the next sentence. “I still pushed him away. Hit him. Told him to go home.”

His voice dropped to a whisper again, low and splintered. “He stood there and took it. And then he waited. Didn’t leave. Didn’t fight back. Just said he wouldn’t eat unless it was from me.” There was a silence that stretched long between you. Sanji’s shoulders had sunk now, like the weight of it all had finally dropped fully onto him.

“…I don’t know if I deserve any of you,” he murmured, barely audible.

You let the silence sit for a moment, not out of hesitation, but to make sure you both heard what he just said. Every word. Every broken, twisted thought he’d turned into truth in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

His head lifted slightly. He didn’t look at you. Just the wall. The floor. Anything but your face.

“I mean it, Sanji. Don’t ever say that again.” You cupped the side of his face for you to meet eyes.

“You think what you did was wrong, and yeah, it was reckless. It hurt us. It hurt me. But you did what you thought you had to do to protect the people you love.” You shifted, turning your body more towards him, your knee brushing his. His hands were still clenched in his lap. You reached for his hand, carefully. Your fingers brushing his knuckles first, then curling gently around them.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve us.”He looked at you now. His eyes were wet, his jaw tense. “You’re not some burden we’re dragging behind us, Sanji,” you whispered. “You’re… you, You don’t understand just how enough that is.”

Rubbing your thumb slowly along his hand. “I missed you.” your face burned up a bit. “I was so worried about you. I missed you because this ship doesn’t feel the same without you, I loved waking up to your scent of love. walking through the halls smelling like smoked goods and burning toast in the mornings.”That got the smallest, most cracked half-laugh out of him. You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him.

“So yeah. You messed up. You’re not perfect. But none of us are. And if you ever say again that you don’t deserve us, or me, I’m gonna get Nami in here.” That made him laugh more, a little more louder than before. His shoulders loosened just a bit.

“Okay?” softly giggling softly. He nodded. Slowly. His hand gripped yours tighter

“…Okay.”

[chock-and-bates]

Hey! I heard you give really great fic recommendations, and I’m currently dying to find some Lestappen angst fics. It feels like I’ve read almost everything out there-though I really hope that’s not true! Could you please recommend me some?

~🥔

oh babe 😍 i went a little overboard with this one but i really, really, really love a good angst fic.

everything i listed in this post that requested angst with a happy ending.

dreaming about silver and gold: after the 2023 las vegas gp, charles realizes him and max can't be together. (one of my all time favorites.)

contagious chemistry: (series, omegaverse) max and charles are exes who spend a heat and rut together.

Tell me what you're willing to sacrifice: charles wonders what max is willing to sacrifice for him.

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix: after the dsq in china, charles goes to his ex for comfort.

the lighter has always been the third wheel: charles and max are having an affair, charles begins to question his worth and has to make some tough decisions.

Silver Spoons and Butter Knives: based on the iconic silver spoons lestappen edit (obsessed with this one lately.)

Let Me Think About Me: charles realizes he deserves better than the way max is treating him, max begins to understand how badly he fucked up.

how can you say you love someone you can't tell is dying?: they've been together for ten years but max still hasn't proposed. charles finally asks him why. (this one HAUNTS me.)

What if this is all the love you ever get: infidelity fic! charles and max make a mistake and have to face the consequences.

in burning red: max and charles have broken up but max still goes to see him receive his wdc trophy.

tell your girlfriend: charles starts to question max really loves him since he's staying with kelly.

all to play for: red bull teammates. it doesn't go well.

Why Am I Crying?: charles goes to surprise max at his apartment and sees something awful. (this one hurts!!)

heartstroke: charles get amnesia and doesn't remember his husband. (wip, hasn't been updated in years, but it's soooo good. give it a shot.)

Too Much: Horrible, toxic situationship. Pretty dark!

I feel the rain (olympics, gymnastics au) max and charles are ex-boyfriends competing in the olympics.

Permanent Mark: max and charles have been broken up for 8 years, but then max tells charles he's retiring. (wip)

baby, i'm the one to beat: they're friends with benefits who are terrible at talking about their feelings but very good at misunderstandings.

Together down the rabbit hole: 2022 lestappen infidelity fic (hasn't been updated in years, but a sentimental fav. one of the first lestappen fics i ever read.)

We Don’t Make Plans Anymore: how max and charles fall apart. one of them moves on, the other realizes they fucked up.

anything, except my love for you: (rule 63, series) max loves charles, but she's tired of being a secret.

Oh, no, there you go, making me a liar: after being left following a one night stand, charles promised himself he would never let max hurt him again.

keep me warm, love me long, be my sunlight: (omegaverse) max and charles are rut partners who develop a pre-bond. they try to separate.

noir désir: pierre and charles are in a long-term, but tense relationship. max is their new roommate.

when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you tasted: (au) charles is an aston martin photographer, but max mistakes him as prostitute. charles goes along with it, even if it hurts.

and a quick note for my two angst fics if you haven't read them-

morning comes (and you're not my baby): charles and max have break up sex, the morning after doesn't go according to plan.

(i love you) it's ruining my life: they're friends with benefits who made a sex tape. then it's leaked to the paddock.

hope you find something new!! ❤️

[zmwrites]

Writemas 2024: Day 14

Thank you to @agirlandherquill for hosting this event and for coming up with these prompts!

WIP: Snowy WIP

Prompt(s): "I will let you run, because I know in the end, you'll come back to me. Always." + The sharpness of broken glass

Words: 398

Notes: Canon? Questionable! Quality? Also questionable! But I got words down which I count as a win!

Livia sat at the richly supplied table, her hands folded in front of her, and searched for a weapon. She hadn’t been given a knife with her cutlery set. None of the lavish dishes had knives with them, or even large serving forks. Dull spoons, tiny forks, pre-cut meats.

“You insult me, Lord Andrin. You don’t even trust me to cut my own meat without trying to kill myself?”

“I’m more worried about you trying to kill me, my lady,” he said from the opposite end of the long table.

“Your Highness,” she corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“You shall address me as Your Highness, or you shall not address me at all.” Livia picked an imaginary piece of lint off the tablecloth. “I’m afraid I must insist on being shown the proper respect by a man claiming to be my fiancé.”

“Do you insist on using your title in bed too?”

Her brow arched as her stomach clenched with fear. She needed to escape. What could she do with spoons, tiny forks, a ceramic plate, and a wine glass? “That’s hardly table talk, Lord Andrin.”

“You’re a very perplexing woman, Your Highness,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I look forward to unravelling your secrets once we’re married.”

She sipped her wine, then smashed the glass on the edge of the table. Wine and glass shards flew across the pristine tablecloth. She pressed the sharp edge of the broken glass to her throat until she felt blood trickle down her neck. 

Andrin jumped to his feet. “Don’t do anything stupid, Louisa.”

“Let me go. I will not marry you, and I will not help you usurp my brother’s throne.” She slowly stood, not removing the glass from her skin, and took a step backwards.

Inexplicably, Andrin laughed.

Livia took another step towards the door. 

“Well played, princess,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d go so far.”

“I would rather die than join you.”

“I can see that.” He prowled closer, stopping less than two steps from her. “I will let you run, princess. Because I know that in the end, you’ll come back to me. Whether you want to or not.”

She curled her lip. Creep. She gathered her skirts in her free hand and walked backwards to the door. Only then did she drop the stem of the wine glass. 

Livia whirled away from Andrin and ran.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

If I could make more than one request I would love some more Mafia Restaurant 🥺 (otherwise feel free to postpone it to next week) Thank u 🤍

WIP Wednesday (9/13) | Mafia Restaurant AU

It takes Kevin about six minutes to get the salads the way he wants them, but finally he allows Neil to take the tray. As he starts towards the door, Jean grabs the back of his collar and Neil nearly chokes.

 “What the fuck was that for?" He hisses, spinning around and ready to bite the bastard. Jean curses in French then slams down a few forks and spoons onto the tray.

 “You are the most pathetic excuse for a waiter I’ve ever seen. You didn’t even get the cutlery.”

“Pardon me, monsieur. I’m not used to wining and dining,” Neil snaps. “Killing and maiming, I’m good at. This… Not so much.”

“Well, here’s another hint before you go…” Jean says, tugging Neil backwards again. He twists him around and reaches for the front of Neil’s pants, which has him confused. And a bit worried, considering the amount of knives in the room. Then Jean’s hand comes back with his mother’s pistol. “... leave the fucking artillery in the kitchen where it belongs.”

“Oh. I can’t believe you just said that sentence,” Kevin whines in the corner. Jean places Mary’s gun on the counter and shoves Neil toward the door before he can say anymore.

<- previous | first | next->

[divinekangaroo]

WIP: a honeymoon fic teaser for @deliciousnutcomputer for such patience :)

tommy x lizzie; drinking/inebriation, friction, very unreliable (drunk) narrator XD

(it might not seem it but this one will have the most terribly sweet ending i can possibly imagine)

Day 1:

5:00 PM: Arrive at Victoria Embankment in London to board the Orient Express. 6:00 PM: Departure from London towards Dover. Enjoy dinner in the dining car. Socialise in the lounge and bar cars.  Live music and conversation. Admire the passing countryside and towns as the train continues its journey. During the evening, compartments will be prepared for sleeping with the seating converted into luxury beds.

*

‘There’s fingerprints.’

Lizzie looked up from her plate. Quail at perfect moistness, green peppercorn. Some kind of broccoli sliced into the thinnest of curls, transparent as if green glass, or a museum’s pressed dissection of a small tree. Never particularly been intrigued by the idea of matching wine to meal, one of those things the upper classes pretended was real but wasn’t just to create another barrier, Lizzie learned otherwise: something about the way the white wine, selected for her meal especially, that made everything taste so much better. Hadn’t been the first sip, but layered, as if taste was something that could build over time, acquired, and she was in the thick of complementary layered bliss on her tongue right now. 

The green-eyed sommelier explained it to her with a masculine grace and an attention she’d felt warmly gratified by, as he’d seemed to recognise instantly Tommy wouldn’t pay attention, and instead poured his French-accented charm onto her instead. She’d listened, rapt, and drank everything he gave her.

As if giving a toast, Tommy raised his tumbler to the burnished chandeliers that gave the dining car such atmosphere, frowning.

‘See?  Fingerprints.’

‘Are they your fingerprints?’

‘Course they’re not mine. Look, there’s specks of dirt in this glass.’

‘Tommy.’

Now he was sniffing the contents. ‘Is this scotch? Taste it for me. They’ve given me scotch. In someone else’s fucking unwashed glass.’

‘Can you please get your glass out of my face—’

‘Where’s this bar car? I’m not taking this.’

How was she supposed to know if he didn’t? ‘Given there’s only two directions you could possibly go, I’m sure you’ll find it.’

Tommy gave her an unreadable look, untucked his chair, and stalked out the back end of the dining car, holding the glass out as if it was some dripping bloody organ. Then he hit his shoulder on the doorframe as he passed and paused to glare at it.  

Lizzie looked at her plate to avoid seeing if he'd start a fight with mostly inanimate architecture. She ate another careful mouthful of quail with a slice of broccoli folded onto the gold fork by way of the gold knife. There were still three forks and three knives on the table next to her plate, and three spoons in different sizes arranged at the top of the gold-rimmed plate. She assumed one set had been for the prawn thing in the glasses Tommy waved away before the waiters could approach their table, which she forgave because a disgust for shellfish couldn’t be argued with; another for the soup course he’d looked at and sent back without checking with her, which she didn’t forgive when she’d not even the chance to see what it was. But she wasn’t sure about the final cutlery set because it wasn’t meant for dessert, was it?  

She'd lost her taste for sweet things, anyway. Now she would never know.

Five minutes later, Tommy crossed through again to exit to the front of the car, still holding the offending glass, giving her a passing frown.

Lizzie looked at his plate, steak with the slightest blush of pink at the centre; she could tell because he’d sliced it thin as the broccoli, precisely, end to end, complaining it wasn’t cooked through, didn’t they know uncooked meat gave people worms or worse, he’d had better from a gutted squirrel at a fucking street stall grilled over charcoal on a stick. He’d pushed all the potatoes off the plate in the process of his slicing, exactly like Charlie at his petulant worst, staining the tablecloth.  

Having drained her glass of impeccably selected white wine staring at his plate, Lizzie waved the waiter over to fill her up again. The couple at the table next to her looked at her, not exactly aghast, but politely puzzled. Possibly you weren’t supposed to click repeatedly at a waiter like that in first class. Possibly you weren’t supposed to even call them. Maybe it was all done through some strange set of social signals no one was allowed to explain, because you had to be born into it. 

No one seemed to stare at Tommy like that no matter what he did, though, so men must have a free pass. Either that or he’d found a better book of etiquette than she ever had and not deigned to share.

‘You might as well leave the bottle. Are you allowed to do that?’

‘Of course, madam.’

‘Ta. Thank you, I mean. Thank you.’

‘At your service, madam.’ From the cow-eyes, he looked like he wanted to kiss the back of her hand. Surely that wasn’t reasonable? Lizzie looked away, slightly disturbed, and the couple at the table across offered her near-identical conciliatory smiles, sweetly, which made her realise they weren’t a couple but rather brother and sister, and that was perhaps an invitation to participate in some of that much lauded social conversation listed on their itinerary.

In the corner of the car, on a small elevated triangular stage, a trio of young violinists set up quietly. Two women with hair piled high in identical crowns-of-braids and one man, dark skinned.  At some unseen cue, they all began to play, ethereal and compelling. Lizzie thought distantly of Charlie’s practice, wondered if he’d keep his attention on it long enough to become this good.  Violins were amazing instruments. Having mostly filled her days and a good few nights of marriage so far with various entertainments now available to her, including orchestral performances, Lizzie had decided violins might be her favourite. Not just because of Charlie, but because even his faltering practice made the instrument sound almost human in some way, even if with him it was more crying than singing. Now, in the hands of masters, the instruments pulled her into another place where baby new potatoes weren’t rocking gently on the tablecloth with the motion of the train.

Frisson, that’s what it was. Lifting her from the mundanity of having endured without comment the now hours-long litany of Mr Thomas Shelby’s complaints of raw steak and dirty glasses and the station queues and the traffic on the way in and how could she forget her fucking passport all while pretending he hadn’t forgotten his and the stupid imperfect and fundamentally flawed itinerary the latest useless office lackey put together for this whole affair, the crammed luggage and the lack of information on the weather that would be awaiting them so they couldn’t even pack clothes properly as if he'd ever wear anything other than a bloody three-piece in public and the time this would take away from important business and she’d better be happy and why France, Lizzie, why fucking France, when he’d been the one who picked it—

Nothing was left in the bottle. Lizzie realised it was late enough the car was nearly empty, offending plate and potatoes cleared, and she was almost liquid in her chair, suddenly conscious of how she must look. Eyes half-lidded, face soft, listening and looking, free hand curled at her chest as if wounded, and a total degradation of posture.

The young violinist caught Lizzie’s eye and winked at her, inclined his head so briefly towards the rear end of the car. A lifted eyebrow, in enquiry and offering. He put an extra little effort into his bow arm, the tilt of his chin, and held her eye in a particularly meaningful way.

‘Do you want to fuck me,’ Lizzie asked the empty chair opposite her, jarring and vicious and in her poshest attempt at the King’s English.

The chair didn’t answer.

Then she went to find the bar car or her bed, whatever showed up first in the grand linear journey that was navigating a train where apparently everyone except for her husband actually did, in fact, want to fuck her, blaming her sway and the nearly-rolled ankle along the way on the motion of the carriage.

[thepeculiarbird]

"Not A Villain Song" Tag Game

Thanks to @mysticstarlightduck for tagging me in this game, I love the idea!

Tagging before I forget : @kaylinalexanderbooks @raiden-makoto @sarandipitywrites @jaelink @aalinaaaaaa @lyutenw @buffythevampirelover @nettleandthorne @finxi-writes @arwenschepers @corruptedbread @whimsical-blood-fairy @unrepentantcheeseaddict @kidukami @ryns-ramblings @rowenas-my-fave-child + open !

Rules: Pick a song for the antagonist/ villain of your WIP, but the twist is that it can't be obvious that it is a song for the villain. As in: if someone listened to the song and didn't know it was about the villain, they couldn't guess!

There is indeed a villain in the story but you know nothing about her for now but I'll introduce her, maybe, in a different post if people are interested.

This was actually really hard to find a song that still fits her (I made the playlist a while ago) but also sounds cool.

"My Love is Sick" by Madds Buckley :

My love is sick It leaks and bleeds All over me onto my nicest shirt

Vines without roots Like knives in my body And I am their puppet Twisting ‘til I hurt

My love is sick I’m running a fever so high I peel my skin to breathe

Birds without cages Find perch on my ribs and I Stitch myself back up to keep them in

You’re an infection I am keeping No matter the sepsis You are staying I’d rather the wound Than have you removed Enough rotting for two Killing me, keeping me high

My love is sick It’s messy and wrong But I pray for a bit of contagion

Hands without fingers Like spoons at the source Coat evenly Oh, won’t you touch me?

You’re an infection I am keeping No matter the sepsis You are staying I’d rather the wound Than have you removed Enough rotting for two Killing me, keeping me high

You’re the cure You’re the curse You make it better You make it worse You’re my killer And my Christ (But I’m the one twisting the knife)

You’re an infection I am keeping No matter the sepsis You are staying I’d rather the wound Than have you removed Enough rotting for two Killing me, keeping me-

You’re an infection I am keeping No matter the sepsis You are staying I’d rather the wound Than have you removed Enough rotting for two Killing me, keeping me high

My love is sick It’s taken me whole I’m simply a host to a haunting

Ghosts without corpses Still linger in flesh Holding on to a love they keep wanting

But also other songs in the playlist that fits the character :

"Mum" by Luke Hemmings

"Child Of Ashes", "Ambrosia Wine" and "The Red Means I Love You" by Madds Buckley

"Control" by Halsey

"Funeral" by Neoni

"Blue Hair" by TV Girl

"You're Not Welcome" by Naethan Apollo

"Our Word" by 36 Questions

Thanks for reading :)

[ralibo14]

Can I join the debate?

Guess I just do 🤣😅

I'm currently working on a tpn fanfic and my last published chapter turned out Ray themed and the result turned out so emotional, that my beta reader suggested to put a warning in front of the chapter. Here is a WIP from it:

And whenever I write about tpn. I have a quote (you must likely heard of it) which I always pops up in mind when an art of Ray or Isabella comes up in my fyp.:

“When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.” -Lauren Eden.

And this, for me at least, describes Ray's and Isabella's relationship perfectly.

was isabella Wire Mother to ray

[wolves-in-the-world]

plucking this from the thing I'm writing-

Maybe they should take up embroidery, since they're not getting to stab anything else around here.

-because I'm suddenly imagining it as a Quinn mood. resident bastard gets reprimanded one too many times for stabbing people on the job and decides to passive-aggressively take up cross-stitch about it. every time any of the team looks over he's working through a pattern with a serene expression; somehow, it's even more unnerving than watching him sharpen his knives.

[lowslore]

Grey Blinds and Sunflowers: Draft 3 Beta Call

Hey folks! I'm proud to announce that I am putting Grey Blinds and Sunflowers out for its third round of beta reading!

Basics

Word count: 85k (estimated) | WIP Introduction | Playlist | Genre(s): crime fic, dystopian, new adult, sci fi, fantasy

Trigger warnings: homophobia/transphobia, minor ableism hints, systemic violence/injustice/antagonism to one group of people, unjust imprisonment, violence (guns, fist fights, bomb mentions, knives), brainwashing/hypnotism, depiction of sensory overload, slightly creepy Eldritch entities, terrorism mentions, scarring, mild excess of alcohol mention, mild sexual themes (all consensual), references to death, funerals and grief (none explicitly depicted)

Expectations

The document will go out on the 7th of August. The deadline for reading would be the 31st of October.

If you have the spoons to comment as you read, I'd love that so much! But there will be a feedback form afterwards

I need to know if this is good enough to send to query. I'm hoping that the last two rounds caught my major structural issues, but the number of sideplots may still be a problem. I'm looking for people willing to pick me up on grammar, sentence structure, and the nitty gritty of how I'm writing, as well as people to check over the overall plot!

If you feel like volunteering and want something to read over the latter part of summer, apply here!

Applications open until the 20th of August

Taglist: @thelaughingstag, @naps-tries-writing​

Even if you can’t read, PLEASE boost !!!!

But Low, I don't want to click on the WIP intro! Gimme a summary here! (Of course, check below the cut)

Grey Blinds and Sunflowers is about a group of detectives, initially set on a missing persons case, who gradually begin to uncover deeper and deeper corruption in the society they live in.

In the face of this, they are trying their best to keep the team together. But Liesl is a Dustie, someone who can see in colour in a world in which people only see in greyscale unless they're looking at a screen, and has to keep this a secret from Darren and from the rest of the world for fear of becoming a missing person herself.

Things become even more complicated when their agency is dissolved and they have to go into hiding; Faith wants to go and be the team's person on the inside, and Liesl is desperate to protect her sister; Darren might be applying to join the very group they're fighting against; and Joe and Liesl's previously-thought-to-be-deceased childhood best friend turns up working for her father, who she used to hate. Throw in a creature that seems to turn people into Dusties, some strange Eldritch dreams, a lot of angst about their situation, and a bounty on their heads, and tensions quickly begin to rise!

In the end, the question is this: will they choose to see the beauty in the sunflowers, or continue to look at the world through grey blinds? And whatever decision they make, will you join them?

[napollya-inspiration]

@heytheredeann tagged anyone who wrote over the holidays to post their latest line, and I did write a little when I came back from Boys in the Boat in a half-asleep state of delirium.

This is from 'about knives and spoons', obviously:

This is the second time Kuryakin has pushed him into the water at the dock.

Feel free to hop onto the tag if you have something you wanna share.

[oonajaeadira]

State of the WIP Address

I’m not only low on spoons, but on knives and forks as well. I’m on chopsticks, but those are slowly dwindling too.

And I’m not even through my first week of rehearsal.

It’s mainly because I’m in double-duty mode at the moment and it’s a lot. And the SO just opened a show tonight, so we’re both dragging like whoa.

I’m just gonna take my time this month. I have actually been doing a lot of dreaming and outlining on a bunch of different pieces, but when it comes to write any, I’m just tired. I won’t make myself do more than I can. But my focus may wander a lot this month....If I get anything posted, it will probably be something I wasn’t expecting....

Completed this week:

nothing and it’s a bummer

Working on it:

Alpha!Javi G 

Started planning a Joel series (will most likely write one in the future but not ready now)

Thinking about expanding on Light Only Shows You Where The Shadows Are because I want to write more quiet and soft horror

I am still thinking about that Tarot Oberyn series….

Pats is always on the table…

[flowercrown-bard]

Ooh, can I ask about sea may rise/sky may fall? 💚

Thank you! It's the little mermaid au that i abandoned years ago and that i'm finally writing for again :D Here's a snippet (for context: Jaskier, the siren, burned his hands while holding Geralt's silver sword and now that hes human again, he doesn't have a voice anymore, so he can neither play the lute nor sing):

That’s when the strange clattering started. It was a strangely rhythmic sound and it came from where Geralt was sitting. 

Jaskier turned fully towards him, a questioning look on his face that only grew more intense when he saw what Geralt was doing. He was holding two spoons in one hand and with a look of utter concentration, he shook them to create a rhythm. Jaskier shifted closer, making his clothes rustle. Geralt’s head snapped up and he lost the rhythm, dropping one of the spoons.

“Uh,” he said intelligently, “I figured you don’t like the quiet and I’m not good at coming up with things to talk about, so…” He trailed off, fiddling with the spoon left in his hand. 

Jaskier scooted closer, so he didn’t have to endure the feeling of knives slicing into his feet, until he was close enough to almost press against Geralt’s side.

“I would have offered to try to learn the lute for you so you can compose again but I think we both know how that would go.” Geralt snorted, when Jaskier pulled a face, shoving him good-naturedly. 

“I thought this would be easier,” he continued, hitting the sole spoon against a tree stump, eliciting a dull sound. “Lambert came to the keep a couple of years ago and started banging spoons on anything he could find to annoy the rest of us.” His lips twitched at the memory. “When Vesemir revoked his right to enter the kitchen so he couldn’t drum on the pots and pans anymore, he started playing the spoons with nothing else.”

Jaskier cocked his head to the side grinning. 

“Yeah,” Geralt agreed. “Getting released from kitchen duty was probably exactly what the idiot had wanted. You would like him.” 

Geralt stopped the drumming, holding the spoon in a lose grip. “I thought if he could do it, it couldn’t be that hard, but it’s not working. I have no idea how he did that.”

He lowered his head, his hair falling into his face, obscuring his expression. Jaskier picked up the spoon he had dropped and gently nudged Geralt to get his attention. When Geralt looked back up, Jaskier took his hands, showing him how to hold the two spoons so they would clack together.

Ask me about my wips

[the-loveliest-lotus]

Current WIP Long-Fanfiction List

I suppose I should make a post for all of my big work-in-progress fanfictions rather than just my Metalocalypse one. List with plot descriptions and pairings below the cut. Works are for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Phantasm, and Metalocalypse.

All of them are OC x Character pairings, and are all rated Explicit. Links are all to AO3 where there is more info about what is found in the story in the tags/chapter descriptions. I write smut with something of a plot, y’all. We don’t have horny jail on this island, we embrace the horny.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: When You're Not Fed Love on a Silver Spoon, You Learn to Lick it Off Knives

Begins in late June of 1973: Nubbins hitches a ride home with some girls who are on ecstasy. One of them takes a liking to him, offers him some, and they quickly discover that they share some interesting kinks. They form a connection based initially on sex, but as they spend more time together they realize that they have more in common (spoiler, it's not cannibalism) and they start dating.

Or, Nubbins gets laid and then gets a nurturing connection that grounds him enough that he ~mostly~ gets his shit together, and Bobby doesn’t go completely insane because his twin survives.

Pairings (so far): Nubbins x OC ; Chop Top x (different) OC

BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ONE CONTAINS ~EXPLICIT~ VIOLENT GORE SCENES.

Phantasm: The Butterfly Effect

What if on the day of Jody's funeral, the Tall Man meets the reincarnation of his beloved from his life? What if because of this, the Tall Man doesn't uproot Jody's body immediately, and Mike doesn't fixate on the Tall Man? What if this leads to an entirely different future, wherein the Tall Man finds some ~eventual~ balance?

-OR-

A modern AU porn with a plot wherein the Tall Man finds his reincarnated love, and she's an absolute unconventional masochistic oddity in the best of ways. Despite some initial desire to repress his feelings, she manages to reacquaint him with some of his humanity. The story also draws on aspects of Ancient Greek mythology. (Think non-monogamy and various details from the Hades/Persephone myth as well as others interwoven, but Persephone is sexually empowered.) This summary is simplistic at best, but y'all get the idea.

Polyamorous Pairings: The Tall Man x OC ; Lady in Lavender x OC ; Reggie Bannister x OC

Metalocalypse: The Wicker Man

One day as the members of Dethklok were sitting around and surfing the TV channels, Pickles sees his long lost best friend from Wisconsin, Lucy Desmond, in a mug shot. The boys watch the news as she dances while her house burns, following the murder of her abusive husband. With a strong desire to help her get her life back, Pickles approaches Charles and asks for him to help his friend out. None of them could ever expect how well she's about to fit into their lives.

Another OC-focused reverse-harem Polyklok story (she will end up with all of them at least once), but heavy on the Knubbler/OC and Pickles/OC. There will be ~very eventual~ Magnus/OC. Canon divergent alternate universe while also trying to remain canon. This one is gonna be long, strap in for the ride.

This one has a Table of Contents that is updated chapter to chapter due to the sheer amount of pairings that there will eventually be.

[besanii]

fic updates???

Work has been super draining lately, hence the lack of regular fic updates. Sorry peeps :(

I’m doing some writing tonight (some low commitment stuff for another WIP), and hope to write some more SM plot stuff by the weekend though, so lemme know which ones you guys would like to see (and in what order):

The Knives

WWX having an episode (WWX arc, 🔪🔪🔪🔪)

WWX revealing the torture he went through during the war (WWX arc, 🔪 🔪🔪, follow up to #48)

LWJ confronts WC about WWX (WY arc, 🔪🔪🔪, possibly 🔪🔪🔪🔪, follow up to #46)

Someone requested  🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 for SM, but I don’t know?!?!?! How angsty can we go if we’re not exploring the war from WWX’s perspective?? The only place it would fit would probably be during the war, so I threw the third option in there just in case anyone was interested.

More Plot Than Knives (Spoons? Chopsticks?)

Wedding! (WWX arc, follow up to #55 and #45)

The return of an old friend (WWX arc, follow up to #60)

LQR and WWX call a truce (WWX arc, possible follow up to #20, #21, 22, and #24)

Feel free to drop me an ask if there’s anything in particular you’d like to see filled, and I’ll put it in the pipeline for the future. If I have a list of ficlets to write all ready and ordered for me in a to-do list, it’s easier than thinking about what parts to update just before writing XD

Hoping to perhaps wrap this up by the time we get to #100 (so exactly forty ficlets)...maybe. Hopefully. We’ll SEE.

[eveningcatcher]

Main six + courtiers in Hell's Kitchen AU with MC as Gordon Ramsey

Hi, sorry for being absent for so long. Besides the school starting, there have been some things going on in my private life that didn't really motivate me to write. I can't post new chapters every week like usual, but I'll try to post as frequently as I can. Sorry for not doing any of the requests. I had this chapter as a wip for a while, so I decided to finish it. Hope you enjoy it!

-------

Previously on Hell’s Kitchen:

Chef MC tasted the contestants’ signature dishes and, needless to say, they were not pleased.

“How can you serve me this garbage!?!” MC shouted, “I wouldn’t feed a stray dog with this crap!”

Both teams had problems in the kitchen

“You moron, what are you doing?” Nadia asked, frowning like a madman, “Where is the chicken?”

And one team had a little throwback because of one of the cooks

“Volta, what in the world are you doing?” MC shouted, not believing their eyes, “That food is for the customers!”

But now all of that is set aside as the new day and new opportunities arise. Will the chefs be able to rise to the top and win the luxurious restaurant in Vesuvia, or will they crumble at the pressure?

“I want to go back home,” Portia sobbed as she hugged her knees, “I miss my grandma.”

  “Wake up sleepyhea-” one of the MC’s sous-chefs, Scout, stopped midsentence as she stared at Valerius’ bed.

He woke up as he rubbed his eyes, feeling like his head is a lot lighter. As soon as he put his head on the sheets he felt something strange. He lowered his head, only to be greeted by the sight of his braid cut off, right next to him.

“My deep apologies for the inconvenience,” Valdemar said as they put a pair of scissors down, walking out of the room to change, “I just can’t have some of your hair in the food we prepare, so I had to make some sacrifice,” they grinned from ear to ear as they stared at Valerius’ pale face, “Oh, don’t you worry, It’ll grow back before you know it.”

 ****

 “Good morning everyone!” MC said as they watched all of the chefs come into the room, “Oh, Valerius, nice hairstyle!” they chuckled as they stared at him who still hasn’t recovered from the trauma, “Who did your hairstyle? I must say I’m quite impressed.”

“Valdemar, they, I, I was sleeping and, and, that plebian-” he was interrupted midsentence by Valdemar.

“No need to thank me, for my dearest colleague it’s free of charge,” they smiled, enjoying Valerius’ reaction.

“Anyway,” MC said, as they walked up to one table, “Today I will be seeing how good your pallets are and,” their gaze flew over Valerius, Vulgora, Nadia, Lucio and Portia, “Judging by how many smokers are here, my expectations are low,” they turned their head to Julian, “Sit this round out.”

Julian nodded as he walked to the back.

“Valerius, Nadia, come here,” they took blindfolders and headphones, putting them on the two of them, “Can you hear me?” MC shouted at the two of them, “Good, now,” they took a plate of foods from Scout, “Let’s begin, shall we?” they raised one spoon, putting it into Nadia’s mouth, “Boiled potato.”

“Is this pepper?” Nadia asked after she swallowed the potato.

MC raised one of Nadia’s headphones, saying: “Boiled potato.”

They walked over to Valerius, who wasn’t lucky enough to guess either. Surprisingly enough, Nadia, as well as Valerius, both guessed all of the exotic foods right, with Nadia bringing 2 and Valerius bringing one point to their team.

Next, it was Vlastomil’s and Asra’s turn. Vlastomil guessed all of the vegetables and fruits, while Asra only recognized a date as well as ham, however, Vlastomil got a heart attack as soon as he realized he ate meat.

“But I’m vegan!” he shouted.

“Still, you’re not cooking for vegans!” MC explained, “You just have to know what you’re cooking, I don’t give a fuck what you eat.”

Overall Asra got 2 and Vlastomil got 3 points.

Now it was Valdemar’s and Lucio’s turn. MC hesitantly put the food in Valdemar’s mouth, trying their best to avoid those sharp teeth.

“Brocolli. Pear. Tangerine. Lamb’s brain,” Valdemar simply stated after they’ve tasted all of the food.

“Wow,” MC said, “Impressive.”

Lucio, on the other hand, wasn’t as good.

“Um, broccoli, this, this is an… apple. Oh, I know what this is, it’s orange! This, this tastes like bacon!”

“Not even close,” MC said as they took off his headphones, “Go back in your line. Portia, Vulgora, come here.”

Portia, just like Valdemar, guessed all of the food right, Vulgora half as much.

“Now it all comes down to this,” MC said as they put on headphones.

Volta guessed 2 right, but Muriel guessed all of them!

“The six of you have just barely won!” MC said, “Change your clothes, I’m taking all six of you somewhere special. As for the five of you,” MC gestured at the brooms, “I want this place crystal clear!”

“Yes, chef!”

  While the winners prepared themselves to finally go outside, the losing team went straight on to cleaning the hell’s kitchen.

“Wonder where we’ll go?” Portia said as she walked with Nadia outside.

“Honestly, any place is better than here,” she commented as she lit her cigarette, offering Portia one.

She happily took it and, once Nadia lit it for her, continued, “He told us to put on swimsuits, maybe a beach?”

“I sure hope it is!” Lucio said as he walked up to the two of them, to which Nadia only rolled her eyes.

 “I can’t believe I was put in the same team as my ex-husband!” Nadia frowned at the camera, clearly pissed.

****

  “Is everyone ready?” MC asked as they watched the other three walk out of the hell’s kitchen.

“Yes, chef!” the six of them said in unison.

“Very well then, let’s get going,” MC said as they gestured to a luxurious limousine.

****

“Finally!” Lucio puffed his chest as he stared at the camera, “A car worthy of me!”

****

 “Can you guess where we’re going?” MC asked the six of them.

“To the beach?” Portia and Nadia guessed.

“No, but you’re close,” MC said as they stared at others.

“A pool?” Muriel asked.

“Nadia and Portia were closer.”

“To the yacht?” Julian asked.

MC smiled and, with a small nod said: “You’ve guessed it!

****

“Oh my gosh, this will be just like my childhood!” Portia happily exclaimed, “The wind blowing through my hair, the smell of saltwater in the air…” she rambled on and on, “Ohh, I can’t wait!”

****

 “Can you imagine what the five of them are doing right now?” Mc asked as they sipped on champagne.

“Oh, I definitely wouldn’t want to be in their shoes,” Julian added as he finished his glass.

  “Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Valdemar said as they put the brooms in their place, “We need to make a strategy on how to win.”

“We would have won, had someone not guessed only 2 foods right,” Valerius said, eyeing Volta not so discreetly.

“Who are you to talk?” Vulgora said, getting annoyed, “You only guessed one right! You did the worst out of all of us!” it seemed that it was enough to shut Valerius up, but Vulgora continued, “And you! How did you not recognize ham of all things?”

“Because I’m vegan!” Vlastomil shouted, clearly offended.

“This can’t do,” Valdemar said with a frown, “Let’s get one thing straight,” they started talking right after the four of them shut up, “We don’t like each other,” to that all of them nodded, “But the only way we can stay in this competition is to make sure that those six are the ones who always lose.”

“Makes sense,” Vulgora said.

“So you propose that we get rid of 6 of them first?” Valerius asked.

“Exactly, then we can deal with each other later,” Valdemar nodded and, after a short pause, added, “Oh, also, I have no wish to win this competition.”

“WHAT?” the other four asked, not believing what they heard.

“You see, I have absolutely no knowledge about cooking, at all, as a matter of fact, I’m a surgeon.”

“Why did you get here then?” Vlastomil asked, confused.

“Because I made a bet with my colleague, that ginger guy in the opposite team. If I were to get further in this competition than him, he’d have to buy me three rare specimens for my research, but if he were to win I’d have to get him 30 jars filled with leeches,” they finished their sentence, rolling their eyes.

“So, what you’re saying is that you wouldn’t mind if we were to vote you off as soon as that idiot is out?”

“I’d be more than grateful,” Valdemar said with a grin.

“Seems good enough!” Volta said as she nibbled on one of the cookies. “Wait,” she asked as she ate the whole cookie in one bite, “Why were you accepted in the Hell’s kitchen?”

“Same reason why ex-husband and wife were put in the same team,” they simply shrugged, “For the drama.”

“Oh, how much I wish they were to lose,” Valerius said in front of the camera, still thinking about his braid.

 “We’re opening hell’s kitchen!” MC said as everybody got to their places in the kitchen, “Don’t disappoint me again! Also, we’re one waiter short and since you are the losing team,” MC took a glance at five of them, “Valerius, you’ll be a replacement.”

Valerius only nodded as he left the kitchen.

“Vlastomil, you’ll be at the meat section,” Valdemar simply stated as they sharpened some of the knives.

“But I-” he wanted to protest, but Vulgora interrupted them.

“Stop complaining and go!”

 “Alright, let’s begin,” Asra said as they read the first order, “Let’s just put the same effort as yesterday.”

“This will be a breeze,” Asra grinned at the camera, “The opposite team is two cooks short! There is just no way we can lose,” as soon as Asra said that a smile disappeared on their face, “Unless…”

“OH FUCK!” Lucio shouted, not taking their eyes off the burning pan, “Um… I may have made an oopsie…”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?” Nadia shouted, mortified, “Someone, stop the fire!” she demanded.

Everyone gasped in shock, with Asra walking as far away from the fire as they could while Portia pulled Julian towards her before his clothes could have caught on fire as well. Muriel irked his head, trembling at the sight of fire slowly spreading to the other cookware. The fear didn’t stop him though, as he quickly found the fire extinguisher, stopping the fire.

“Oh, thank you,” Nadia said, hugging Muriel tightly, “You’ve saved us!”

“Why do I smell fire?” MC asked as they walked over to the kitchen, “Nadia, explain!”

“Lucio started a fire.”

“Oh my God,” MC said as they buried their head in both of their hands, “Did anyone get hurt?” they asked calmly, not bothering to move.

Nadia quickly took a glance at Lucio and Muriel. She knew very well that Lucio would complain like a little child had he gotten a single bruise. Muriel didn’t seem hurt either, in fact, he turned away, going back to his station as if nothing happened.

“No, sir, everyone is fine,” Nadia stated.

“Nadia, go back to the station, as for you Lucio,” MC raised their head, staring at Lucio as if they were about to murder him on the spot, “I want the oven spotless and you as far away from it as POSSIBLE!!!”

“Yes, yes, sir,” Lucio visibly shook as he got to work.

 “Come on, this is our chance!” Vulgora shouted as they cut some meat, handing it over to Vlastomil, “DON’T,” they said before Vlastomil could even start complaining.

“Is the shrimp pasta done?” Scout asked.

“We’re on it!” Volta said as Valdemar gave her a prepared sauce. She carefully poured it over the pasta, fighting the urge not to stuff her face with the food like yesterday. As soon as they were done, she carefully carried it over to Scout, who nodded in approval.

 Soon enough Valerius walked over, picking up the plate, taking a glance at both kitchens. Sure, his team was very slow, with only a couple of dishes out, but the other team was somehow far worse. He smirked as he walked over to the table.

“Your order,” he said as he put the plate down, “I hope you enjoy it,” he said with a smile plastered on his face as he walked over to the other table.

“Good evening,” he said as he eyed the customers, “How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi there~” a woman greeted him happily as she played with the blue fabric of the dress, “So, I’d like…” she stared at the menu for a moment, then pointed out at one dish, “This. As for the drink…” she thought for a moment, “I’d like some champagne!”

“Champagne along with that food?” Valerius asked, disappointed, as well as one of the men sitting with the girl.

“Seriously Star,” an older man shrugged, “Everyone knows that red wine would go much better with it.”

“Oh, then I’ll take the red wine,” she said, a bit embarrassed that she had to be corrected by her colleague.

“Agreed,” Valerius said as he wrote down her order, “What would you like, sir?”

“I’d like some pasta, no meat,” he added, “I’m a vegetarian.”

Valerius wrote the order down and, just before he could hand the order over to the opposite team, one of the customers called for him. He turned around, hiding his annoyance, “Is something the matter, sir?” he asked.

“Look at this crap!” the woman gestured at her plate, “It looks disgusting!”

Although he’d gladly agree with the woman, just because that would put the opposite team in a terrible position, Valerius knew there was nothing wrong with the dish. “My apologies, but I don’t seem to understand. What are you complaining about?”

“It’s too hot for me to eat it! And look at the colours!”

Valerius took another glance at the plate and after a moment continued talking with less patience, “What do you want me to do? To blow your food? Just wait for it to cool down like all of the civilized people for God’s sake. Stop wasting my time,” he said as he went back into the kitchen, handing Scout all of the orders.

“Hey, I’m not done!” she shouted as she walked over to chef MC, “Sir, you need to put your waiters in their place!” she shouted at MC, “I have never been disrespected like this in my entire life!”

“What a coincidence, I can say the same,” Valerius commented, unbothered, as he took the plates, walking away from her, adding, “Apologies for not cooling your food down.”

“See?” she pointed at Valerius, “I demand-”

“Miss, I’m working here,” MC said with a deep frown on their face, “Nobody has the time to listen to your stupid complaints,” they added as they wrote something down on the paper, “Please return when you have a reasonable complaint, if not, go to the psychiatrist and solve your issues. Don’t lash out your anger on my staff.”

“How bold of you to complain about my anger!” she wanted to continue, but as soon as she saw MC’s cold face, stopped, going back to her seat.

“Look at that idiot,” Vulgora laughed as they chopped some meat, taking a glance at Volta who was devouring the returned food, “Hey, what are you doing?!? Get back to your station!!!”

“Oh come on,” MC frowned as they watched Volta go back, “Speed it up, speed it up! Stop wasting time on the leftovers!”

Volta nodded, her mouth still full of food.

“My grandma would cook faster than all of you!” they shouted, taking a glance at how the other kitchen was doing, and oh boy, they had what to see.

The other kitchen was a mess. Portia accidentally spilt the boiling water on poor Lucio’s arm and it seemed that Asra and Muriel enjoyed the sight while Nadia and Julian pretended to not hear Lucio’s screams.

“Are you alright?” Portia asked, worried, “I’m so sorry!” she said as she grabbed his hand, only to find out that Lucio was pretending.

“Got ya!” he shouted like a little kid as he showed her his metal arm, “As for you,” he turned to the other three, but before he could make any remark, he noticed MC looking at them, their face turning redder and redder every moment.

“What in the world is going on?!?” they shouted, losing all of their patience. Within a moment the restaurant was closed and all of the chefs shivered in front of MC.

  “You were terrible, disgusting!” they shouted and paused, trying to calm themselves down, “You,” they turned to Volta, “I believe we’ve talked about not eating food during the job.”

“Yes, but Volta couldn’t help herself,” she quickly explained, “Volta is sorry-” she would have continued, but MC raised their hand, signalling for her to stop.

“Your team was so terribly slow-”

“But we were two cooks short! Of course, we’d be slow!” Vulgora protested.

“I know that,” MC stated calmly, “You were also most complimented, especially the meat dishes. Who was in the meat section anyway?” they asked as all of them pointed at Vlastomil. At the sight of him, MC couldn’t help but forget all of the rage they felt. After a good minute of laughter, they continued, “Seriously, you made the dishes?” they wiped off the tears in their eyes, “Good job. Keep it up,” they said as they left Vlastomil to dwell in his existential crisis.

“I…” Vlastomil said, not bothering to stare at the camera, “I’ve been a vegetarian my whole life! I’ve never had any meat in my house…” he paused for a moment, still trying to process MC’s compliment, “So why did people enjoy my food?”

 “As for you,” they turned to the other team, “Yesterday you were, you were amazing, how did it all change in one night? I believe it’s obvious who is the losing team. Muriel, you were the best of the worst, choose two candidates for the elimination,” with that, MC left the two teams on their own.

“Bye bye Lucio!” Vulgora grinned.

“What do you mean?! I’m not getting eliminated.”

After that sentence, everyone stared at him, thinking the same thing – could Lucio really be this dumb?

“What if, what if I get eliminated,” Portia started to get worried, “I mean, I could’ve seriously harmed someone,” she continued with her blabbering, “Oh, what will I do?” she started crying.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Julian reassured her, “Everything will be fine.”

“No, it won’t!” Portia said, “I could have seriously hurt someone, do you think MC will let that slide?” she stared at Julian, her eyes becoming glossier.

“Look, you made no damage whatsoever,” Julian explained calmly as he tried to soothe his sister down, “That idiot could’ve burned the whole restaurant down.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this!” Lucio shouted, “You did nothing the whole time! You were slow, unorganized and most of your dishes were returned!”

Julian ignored his comments, turning to Muriel, “Please don’t choose Portia,” he begged, “Choose me!”

Lucio turned to Muriel as well, “Don’t even think about choosing me!”

Muriel didn’t say a thing, instead, he just sighed, leaving the room.

“He… he won’t vote for me, right?” Lucio asked, feeling nervous.

~~~

“So, Muriel,” MC said as all of the chefs aligned, “Who do you choose and why?”

“I choose Lucio and Portia,” he felt shame as Portia’s name came out of his mouth, but there is no turning back now, “Lucio could’ve nearly burned the kitchen down had I not stepped in,” he simply explained, “As for Portia, she could’ve harmed someone with that boiling water,” he quickly added, trying to make Portia sound as good as possible, “Also, Lucio’s fake screams were completely immature. Such serious injuries shouldn’t be joked about.”

“Wait, please,” Julian walked out of the line, “I should be eliminated!” as soon as he said that, a smirk appeared on one certain doctor’s face, “I didn’t do anything when the fire started, I ignored Lucio’s cries and many people complained about my food! I, I’m not even a chef! I’m a doctor. There is no reason to keep me in the competition!”

MC stared at him, thinking about everything he said, “Very well then, if you’re so eager, join these two,” they gestured at Lucio and Portia.

“The person that will be eliminated from this competition is…” MC finally continued talking after a long pause, “Julian. Take your things and leave Hell’s kitchen.”

Despite the loss, Julian smiled brightly at MC. “Thank you for not choosing Pasha!”

“It, it’s happening!” Valdemar said happily as he stared at the camera, “Oh, what is this… feeling?” they stared at their hands, “Is it joy? Yes, it, it must be it, I have never felt so good. Oh, this is a dream come true, trust me, there is no better feeling than finally proving an idiot wrong. I just cannot wait to come back to my ordination, I should better start writing down the list of specimen I want!” they squealed like a high school girl, making the cameraman quite uncomfortable.

“Well, it sucks that I’ve lost the bet with Valdemar,” Julian admitted, “But at least my sister can keep going. I genuinely hope she can win and achieve her dream!” he said as he walked out of the Hell’s kitchen.