#first is just with the fic vibe and second is while planning for that scene but before writing so it's not an exact match

[tkwrites]

Happy Halloween! - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Title: Happy Halloween!

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: None, it's just some silly, kitschy fun. 

Summary: Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party

Word Count: 2,800

Comments: Happy Halloween!

I wasn’t originally planning to write this fic, but an idea lodged itself in my brain after listening to Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper on one of my friends Halloween playlists. It’s kitschy and cheesy, more than a little ridiculous and very, very fanfiction-y. But it turned out so cute and I love it. I hope you do, too!

If you've never heard Feed My Frankenstein before, give it a listen so you can get the vibe.  

If you enjoyed this Snapshot, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask about it. I love talking with you!

Happy Halloween!

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Sarah said as they were on the phone one night. 

“About what?” Quinn asked. 

“About Halloween.” 

A laugh bubbled out of his chest, “isn’t it a little early for that?” The season hadn’t even started. There were just two short weeks before he’d be back in Vancouver, and three and a half weeks before she’d move into his apartment. His stomach filled with giddy butterflies every time he thought of it. 

“It’s a big deal for you guys, right?” 

“Well, I mean, we have a big party. But, last year, I bought my costume the day before.” He didn’t mention that he’d broken things off with June for good the week before the party and had to scramble to find a costume on his own. 

She made a humming noise. 

“We can do it earlier if you want,” he said. 

“From what Bella told me, people go all out,” she said. “We don’t have to. I just thought I’d throw it out while I have the mental capacity to plan a costume.” 

“No,” he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, “let’s talk about it. Did you have something in mind?” 

“Nothing I have my heart set on,” she said, “but I had a few ideas.” 

“Okay, shoot.”

“I want to hear yours, too.” 

“I just started thinking about this two minutes ago, so I don’t have any idea, yet, but if I think of one, I’ll let you know,” he said, his smile teasing  

Sarah rolled her eyes. 

“What are your ideas?” he prompted. 

“Well, we could do Captain America and Agent Carter,” she offered, “Or I thought the casual look of him and Black Widow from Winter Soldier, with the baseball hat and glasses, when she’s in the hoodie?” 

“Okay,” he nodded, “I like the second one. We wouldn’t even have to go shopping for that.” 

She giggled. She’d thrown that one in precisely because she knew he’d like it. It was her fallback if none of the others stuck. 

“And then I thought about Zombies. Like, we could have someone do skull makeup.” 

Quinn winced. “I really don’t want to do face paint. Brock did it last year, and he was finding blue paint all over for days.”

She figured that was the case but thought she’d shoot her shot anyway. “Okay. My last idea was to go as Drs.Grant and Stattler from Jurassic Park.” 

“That one wouldn’t be too hard, either.”

“Khaki shorts and button ups,” she agreed. 

“And hiking boots,” he mused. It sounded like the most comfortable outfit to him. “The rookies could wear those blow-up dinosaur costumes,” he said with a snort. 

Sarah barked a laugh, “we could recreate the arrival scene in your jeep.”

“If we do that, I’m renting a Jurassic Park jeep.”

She’d mostly been kidding about the arrival scene. “I mean, if you want to.” 

He beamed over the FaceTime connection. “I think we should do it.” It was a unique costume of something he actually liked, and he could involve some of the guys who didn’t have partners or didn’t want to think about finding costumes. Tanev had done that for him his first year, and it’d been a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. 

So they got to planning, buying the outfits and accessories. He spent way too much money on some cosplay recreation of Dr. Grant's hat Sarah found on Etsy. 

After scouring the internet and going on fan forums, Quinn found a local guy who had built a few replica jeeps. He also happened to be a huge Canucks fan, so when Quinn got in contact and told him who he was and what they were trying to do, the guy was eager to help and even offered to drive so drop them off at the party to make the scene a little more realistic.

Dane picked them up a block from their apartment. Thankfully, the sky was clear. 

He was all in. He even had the hat and sunglasses the driver wore in the movie. His wife tagged along, sitting in the backseat with Quinn, and they chatted as they drove. He’d tried to pay them, but Dane had refused, saying it was an honor. He slipped Andi an envelope with some rental money and tickets to a home game anyway. 

They were headed to a private event space a ways outside the city for the party, and Quinn had organized for everyone to be outside for their arrival. He’d invited some of the single guys to dress up as the dinosaurs they’d be awed at. Silovs jumped on it, not having much experience with Halloween, and eventually, Hoglander and Aman jumped in, too. 

It wasn’t a whole herd of brontosaurus, but it was better than nothing. And Quinn felt better, making sure those guys felt included in a tradition they didn’t grow up with, especially at an activity that was generally so partner focused.

He’d asked Bella to film it. They were putting so much work into it, he wanted to have some sort of record. Plus, he knew his family would want to see it. His grandpa was the first person Quinn watched Jurassic Park with, and Quinn knew he’d especially enjoy it.

When they pulled up and everyone turned to look at them, Sarah felt an instant fit of giggles overtake her. Forcing herself to look at the large, plastic monstera leaf she was holding, she tried to hold it in. 

Just like he asked, the guys dressed as dinosaurs were at the front of the crowd. All three of them wore different costumes. Hoglander was in a ridiculous fabric dilophosaurus costume, while Aman was in a dinosaur onesie. Silovs was in the inflatable T-Rex costume Quinn had sent them as an example. He wasn’t too surprised. It allowed him a certain amount of anonymity, which Quinn knew the shy goaltender appreciated. 

He was worried he would look incredibly unnatural doing this whole thing, but found it actually came quite easily. It’s not like he was making a fool of himself on national television. These were his teammates. 

The fact that he had a girlfriend nerdy enough to go in on this bit with him made it all that much easier. They were making fools of themselves together. While June would have done this with him, she would have taken it incredibly seriously and had a three person camera crew on location to get the best shots and reactions so she could post it on her socials.

When the Jeep came to a stop, and everyone looked over at them, Quinn threw off his hat and stood on the seat before shakily removing his sunglasses.

The whole team started to laugh, but he could tell most of them were impressed with their commitment to the bit. 

Sarah was prattling on about the fauna in her hand, and he reached over to turn her head. Still trying not to laugh, she tore off her sunglasses and stood up, mouth agape. 

They both scrambled out of the car, walking up to their small herd. 

Quinn turned to her, the hand still holding his sunglasses waving, “It’s…It’s a dinosaur.” 

“Uh hu,” Sarah agreed, barely holding herself together with everyone else laughing and cheering. 

“Welcome — to Jurassic Park!” someone yelled in a very bad British accent.

Sarah lost her composure, laughter peeling out of her mouth in hearty guffaws.  

Quinn turned back to thank Dane, who said it was a pleasure before he saluted and drove away. 

“That was so good!” Meghan exclaimed, gathering Sarah into a hug. She was dressed as a beach-goer with a very realistic bite taken out of her arm. Conor was in a shark onesie. “I can’t believe you got Huggy to do that whole thing.” 

“The arrival bit was actually his idea.”

“Really?”

Sarah nodded, “he’s secretly kind of a nerd.”

She laughed, knowing full well how much of a nerd he was. There was a reason he and Conor got along so well. 

Walking into what Sarah knew must be a ballroom, she was a bit surprised at all the decor. The space was completely transformed. Decorated to look like a spooky forest, there was a fog machine and strobing lights and a bartender aptly dressed as a werewolf. 

“How much did you guys pay for this?” she asked.

Quinn shrugged and pointed out the karaoke stage set up in the corner. “Will we get to hear you sing tonight?” he asked, slipping an arm around Sarah’s waist.

She let the subject drop. It wasn’t the way she’d spend her money, but she didn’t have the excess of it most people in this room did. “Maybe once I get a few drinks in me. I’m way too sober to make a fool of myself in front of your teammates.”

His eyes were alight with the memory of her singing in Nevada. She’d been good. Well, as good as someone tipsily singing Time of the Season can be. Mostly, it had been fun to see that looser side of her. 

The party was fairly chill. An open bar with themed cocktails and lots of dancing. Once everyone was a bit more tipsy, thanks to the jello shots that were passed around, Conor started the karaoke with a horribly off-key rendition of  Ghostbusters. Meghan went next singing, Look What You Made Me Do.

The rookies were encouraged (read: forced) up on stage to perform Everybody (Backstreets Back). Sarah felt bad for them. Most didn’t even speak English as a first language and were now being forced to sing an awful song from an outdated boyband she wasn’t sure any of them had even heard before.

A few more songs were sung as Sarah caught up with Bella. She and Brock were dressed as Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo. It was an excellent fit for them. Bella looked killer in her little purple dress and white go-go boots, and the 70s style fit Brock better than Sarah would have previously thought. Then again, it was pretty difficult to make him look bad. 

“What is this?” Bella asked when a hair metal guitar solo rang through the speakers. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper.”

When Bella gave her a surprised look, Sarah explained, “my dad loved metal and shock rock. We used to sing it together all the time.” 

The intro started again instead of continuing on and Sarah turned, wondering why no one was singing yet. 

Quinn was standing right behind her, a shit eating grin on his face as he held out a microphone. 

Her laugh rang through the karaoke speakers. Shaking her head, she backed up. 

“Oh, come on, you know you want to,” Quinn encouraged, before starting to chant, “Sar-ah! Sar-ah!” 

People immediately joined in. 

“Oh, please?” Bella begged from beside her. “I wanna see you get your metal on!” 

The alcohol singing in her veins transformed her trepidation into courage. Snatching the mic, she sauntered onto stage, feeling a kind of performance alter ego take root. 

Slipping the mic into the stand, she said, “you owe me, Hughes.” 

He laughed. 

The intro started again, and she pulled out her ponytail, flipping her head upside down to shake out her hair. Someone wolf whistled. 

She flipped her hair back up, grabbed the mic stand to pull the mic to her mouth, and yelled, “Feed my Frankenstein.”

Surprised, Quinn’s eyes blew wide. He knew Sarah loved karaoke. She’d told him, as had her best friend Beth. And he’d even seen it first hand in Nevada, but this was different. 

Swinging her hair and hips grinding with the music, she didn’t sing so much as yell in tune. It was obviously a song she knew well. He’d known she would - Beth had sent him a list of some songs she knew Sarah wouldn’t be able to resist. 

Pointing right at him and tilting her head in a sort of predatory way, she sang, 

I'm a hungry man But I don't want pizza I'll blow down your house And then I'm gonna eat ya Bring you to a simmer Right on time Run my greasy fingers Up your greasy spine

“Dude!” Conor yelled, clapping Quinn on the shoulder. 

Feed my Frankenstein Meet my libido “She's a psycho"

He was too stunned to respond. He’d heard the song before, from watching Wayne's World, but hearing the lyrics come out of her mouth gave them a whole different meaning. 

Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love and it's feeding time

Not that he was complaining. It was incredible to see Sarah let loose like this. 

It was most surprising to him that her seemingly mild-mannered, engineer father liked music like this and had shared it with his daughter. 

Velcro candy, sticky sweet Make my tattoos melt in the heat Well, I ain't no veggie Like my flesh on the bone Alive and lickin' on your ice cream cone

In the interlude, Sarah decided she might as well commit, and making her way off the stage, she walked right to Quinn. The crowd parted, all cheering. If she was going to do it, she was going to do it right. 

She was glad to see a few people had their phones out. At least she’d be able to see just how much of an ass she was making of herself later. 

“Yeah, Sarah!” someone yelled from her left, “show him who’s boss!” 

That almost broke her, and she lost her composure for a moment, looking into Quinn's eyes and giggling. It was hard to want to seduce him while he still had that ridiculous hat on. 

Meet my libido “She's such a psycho"

She growled that last bit into his ear as she tore off the hat and threw it into the crowd. 

He let out a surprised laugh and someone whooped. 

Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love and it's feeding time

Holding him by the front of the shirt, she pulled him with her as she got back on stage.

Quinn went willingly, finding his heart pounding a little harder than he expected. 

She finished the last riffs with a few last whips of her hair and lowered the mic. 

Quinn turned her around, and she took a dramatic bow, laughing all the while. It wasn’t until he led her off the stage and the adrenaline rush of being in front of the crowd began to ebb away that she realized exactly what had just happened. 

Resting her forehead on the front of Quinns shoulder, she moaned, “I can’t believe I just did that.” 

He laughed, running his hand up and down her back, “I can’t really either. I had no idea you felt so passionately about Alice Cooper.” 

She was blushing furiously as she pulled away, a  playful glare on her face, “I’ll have you know I used to sing that song in front of my mirror when I was little. Twelve year old me thought it was very scandalous.” 

Laughing, he leaned in to kiss her. “You did good.” 

“Now you have to get up there,” she said. 

“No.” 

“Yes,” she argued. 

“I paid my dues as a rookie. I’m never doing that again.” 

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m lots of fun.” 

She rolled her eyes and turned to the bar. 

Quinns arms snuck around her waist and roughly pulled her against him, “do I need to remind you how much fun I am?” 

“Uh-hu,” she said, twisting in his grip. He grinned and winked. “By singing some karaoke.”

His smile slipped, and he shook his head.

“Then,” she leaned in, “you can remind me of all the other ways you like to have fun on the way home.”

“I really don’t –”

Her mouth came dangerously close to his ear, “I’ll get you off on the Uber ride home if you do.” 

Feeling suddenly breathless, he asked, “if I do - hypothetically -” he added, not quite ready to commit, “do I have to do it on my own?” 

Knowing she was halfway to winning, Sarah smirked. “Of course not. I bet Brock would do it with you,” she said, stopping the tall blonde with a hand on his arm. 

“Oh my god,” Bella squealed, bounding up to them. “Please, please, please? Brock said he won’t unless someone does it with him!” 

Some kind of teammate telepathy was exchanged through a few raised eyebrows that ultimately ended with Quinn turning to the bartender, “can I get another shot?” 

“Of what?” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

They pushed a purple jello shot over the counter before tilting their head at the group of them. Sarah nodded, and they pulled out three more. 

They all cheersed and shot back the slippery, sweet cocktails.

Smacking the shot glass back on the bar, Quinn grimaced. “Let's get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” Bella teased.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Sarah said, smacking Quinn’s butt as he followed Brock to the stage.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[juustozzi]

soccer club shenanigans! also, don't mind the alt uniforms, these were drawn while I was writing and while they're not exactly fic art they share the vibe

[blackhairedjjun]

second chance encounters

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn!reader | genre / tropes: slight fluff, acquaintances to ???, university -> working adult au, nostalgia & slice of life vibes | word count: 3.6k | warnings: alcohol, some profanity, work-related burnout

summary: it's been a year since you graduated from university, and it always seemed like life had different plans for you and for the resident dance crew heartthrob, choi yeonjun. that is, until you run into him by chance after work.

author's notes: hello! this is one part of a fic idea that has been stirring in my brain for the LONGEST time - i wanted a very slice of life fic about adult life and growing up, and for the longest time i tried over and over to write it. but it was hard especially since it involved such personal feelings and experiences and i wanted to capture it just right. but i managed to get this part out, and once i'm less busy i want to try writing a part 2 too. so here it is, i hope you enjoy!

(support by reblogging banner by @/cafekitsune)

It was nearly midnight when you were finally let go from overtime duties at your job. You walked out of your building and, exhausted from staying up for so long, you plopped down on the curb in front of the entrance. At this hour you should try to get a cab home, but you wanted a moment to rest and regain your bearings first.

Despite the late hour, it wasn’t too dark outside; the streetlamps illuminated the sidewalks, and plenty of other office buildings still had windows with the lights on. Next to your building, a 24-hour convenience store was flooded in fluorescent lighting. Maybe you were lucky to have gotten out before midnight when plenty of others were still staying up. But with your eyelids drooping and your whole body feeling heavier than a slab of rock, calling yourself “lucky” felt like a stretch.

You spent the next few moments letting your attention drift, your eyes fluttering shut. You could still see the spreadsheets swimming in front of your vision, and you could still hear your boss’s voice urging you to keep up with the pace. “We won’t go easy on you just because you’re a junior. In fact, you should be working harder if you want to prove yourself.” 

Work harder... prove myself... The words were in your mind constantly, even when your body protested.

Your eyes snapped open for a moment and you spotted a tall man in a hoodie exiting the convenience store, plastic bag in hand, headed for a nearby parked car. Perhaps it was just your fatigue making you see things, but he looked familiar.

He turned his head in your direction and your eyes met. You watched his own eyes widen in recognition.

“Uh, excuse me一” he approached you, scratching his head, “did you perhaps go to...?”

He mentioned your university’s name.

You blinked and studied his face.

Of course. 

You had spoken to him only a handful of times before, but you still recognized the former captain of your university’s dance crew. Everyone at your major had known him.

“Choi Yeonjun...?”

一

Three years earlier

You swished around the beer in your plastic cup, watching the party scene unfold in front of you. The music blared from someone’s speakers, competing with the loud voices of your fellow university students shouting and laughing over each other, and tipsy students nearly stumbled into one another as they tried to reach the cooler for more drinks. All the while you leaned against the far wall of the common room, taking small sips of your beer, glancing around now and then for a sign of your roommate.

Still nowhere.

She’s probably playing a drinking game with one of her friends, you thought, or in another room making out with that guy from the dance crew. You sighed and drained the last of your beer, but made no move to refill it. The room was full of people you didn’t know or barely knew, their faces vaguely familiar from some common classes you shared with them, and you didn’t have the courage to talk to them. None of them paid you any notice either, instead staying close by the friends they already knew.

You had hoped that your roommate would at least be polite and introduce you to some friends you could stay with, but she had left your side as soon as you both entered the party. You sighed.

Just them a tall man in a baseball cap blocked your view.

He was clearly drunk, from the way his face was flushed red, and blinked a few times at you. You recognized him as a classmate from your literature elective, though you couldn’t remember his name.

“Do I... know you?” he slurred, blinking again. A small spark of hope rose in your chest.

“Yeah, we’re actually一”

He threw his head back and started laughing, nearly dropping the beer bottle he was holding. You tried to speak but he only laughed more. “Ah, what am I saying... who are you... hah...”

Your heart sank.

“Hey, you’re bother 一 you’re bothering them... that’s not nice...”

Another man appeared at your classmate’s side, nudging him. You could he that he was also tipsy from his pink-tinted cheeks and the way he stumbled over his words, but he seemed to have enough sense to stop his friend. He too looked familiar, but you weren’t not sure from where.

“I’m not boooothering,” your drunk classmate whined.

“Heh, okay you’re not... let’s just hang somewhere else...”

He squeezed his drunk friend’s shoulder, which seemed to divert his attention; he turned around to leave the room. The man then turned to look at you and you swore that he was properly looking, not just staring with his eyes glazed over from the alcohol.

“Hi...” He let out a little giggle. Cute. 

“Um... hi?”

“Sorry ‘bout that... we won’t bother you... have fun.”

“It’s okay...”

He stood there for a few moments, smiling at you. It was just a lopsided smile from tipsiness, but you couldn’t help the flutter you felt in your chest.

Then, as if awakened out of nowhere, he snapped to his senses. He waved at you, letting out a shy “bye!”, then turned around to follow his friend. You watched his back as he nearly stumbled over the couch and disappeared into a room at the side, and for the first time that night, you smiled.

It took a few moments, but you finally remembered why that man was so familiar: He was a prodigy member of the dance crew, the one that had won countless competitions against other dance crews from different universities. He was only a sophomore and already he was turning heads. Of all the members of that award-winning roster, he was said to be the best one.

His name, you recalled, was Choi Yeonjun.

一

You sat in the passenger seat of Yeonjun’s car with your hands folded on your lap. A jazz-pop playlist was playing from the car stereo, and you glanced over at your driver, who was humming along and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His posture was relaxed and he steered with one hand. As the song reached its final chorus, he broke out into full song, singing with such passion that his eyes and nose scrunched up.

Maybe it was a bad idea to accept a car ride from someone you barely knew, but it was certainly a better option than remaining seated and half-asleep on the curb in front of your office building. Besides, you had heard nothing but good things about Yeonjun during your stay in university. You had been classmates with a few dance crew members and they always spoke of him with a tone of admiration.

The song came to an end just as the car stopped at a red light. At this hour, there were hardly any cars on the intersection. Yeonjun turned towards you and smiled.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.

“Me too.” You fought your tiredness to manage a smile.

“It’s so good to see a familiar face. I just moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head at you and licked his lips, thinking of what to say. “I actually got back from visiting my parents... I had to pick up some of my stuff there to move to my new studio. Then I ended up having dinner with them, walking around, catching up, and well... I was hoping to be home by ten.” 

Your tired smile turned genuine at his story. “That sounds really nice, though. I visited my parents last month, so I get what you mean.”

“Mm, I miss them already.” The traffic light turned green and Yeonjun turned to face the road again; the car cruised past the buildings of the business district, the lights in some of their windows still on. “Hey, how long have you lived here?”

“Less than a year ago, I guess? Pretty much right after graduation. I got a good job offer so I moved here so that the commute would be a bit easier.”

“Yeah, that makes sense... hold on, the building I found you at...”

“Uh-huh?”

“You work at StarOne?”

You sighed. When you had first gotten the job offer, everyone around you had oohed and aahed, throwing compliments and congratulations your way 一 you had gotten a job at one of the biggest, most prestigious companies in the country. You had blushed and beamed at them and replied with Thank you and Oh my god, I’m so excited too. But it hadn’t even been a year since then, and now all you knew were hours of overtime and unhappy clients, rush projects and evaluations where your boss and his boss peeled back your pride layer by layer. You’re doing good, but we didn’t hire you for ‘good’, they would say. We’ve got dozens of other junior officers and even more applicants standing outside our doors, clamoring for the job that you have.

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the canned responses you had developed when asked about your job: Yes, I work at StarOne. The pay is fine. The hours are pretty long, I guess. It’s challenging. But at least I work at a good company.

But instead the car reached another red light and Yeonjun turned to look at you and his eyes softened, as if he had seen the exasperation you so often hid. “Oh... overtime?”

You nodded.

“Ah, sorry. You’re probably too tired to talk about work, huh?”

You nodded again.

He blushed and turned away for a moment. Then he reached to the passenger seat behind him, picked up a thick dark blue blanket, and handed it to you. “Ah, my bad, I shouldn’t have asked... Do you want to rest for a bit? You can sleep for the rest of the ride if you want. Don’t worry, the blanket’s clean.”

Your memory stirred and brought forth a moment three years ago, when you had first run into Yeonjun at a party. In your mind you saw the way he had squeezed your old classmate’s shoulder, keeping him from bothering you too much, and the way he had looked at you right after. You remembered feeling seen, as if he regarded you as an old friend.

The way Yeonjun looked at you now, blanket in hand, felt exactly the same.

“Oh... you didn’t have to.”

“Keep it in case you get sleepy.”

You took the blanket from him, his fingertips brushing yours as he handed it over, and unfolded it on your lap. When you looked back at him you couldn’t help the small smile forming on your lips.

“Thank you.”

He made sure to drive a little more slowly after that, but you could still hear him softly humming along to the songs on his playlist. The sound of his voice wrapped around you even more comfortably than the blanket. 

You closed your eyes to let your mind wander. Sleep didn’t come to you, but new thoughts did 一 thoughts of Yeonjun and what you had known about him from university. Though you had barely spoken to him, your social circles did overlap somewhat; you had been classmates with a few dance crew members, and a few of his friends had been in the same major as you. Every time his name was brought up, it was always in a positive light, whether it was him helping out a new dance recruit or inspiring the rest of the dance crew to work harder. Not once had you heard anyone speak ill of him.

Now you understood why.

一

Two years earlier

You watched the rain from the entrance of the campus arts building, its extended roof keeping you and several other students dry. Today the downpour was much better compared to previous days 一 you could actually see ahead of you, for one 一 but it was still bad enough that the endless drumming of the rain on rooftops filled your ears, and the pathway leading out of the building was a blur.

Still, you had a class in ten minutes and Professor Im had not made any announcement of cancellation. The sciences building was a short walk away but you needed all the time you could to get there and dry yourself off. Sighing, you fished your umbrella out of your bag and silently thanked your past self for remembering to pack it this time. With the push of a button (good thing you got one of those automatic ones) the umbrella opened, you held it up, and you hugged your bag more closely around your body to keep it dry. Here you go.

You had barely taken two steps out of the building when someone bumped against your side. Your umbrella shook, causing a few rain droplets to land on your head, but you barely felt them. Not while you were too busy staring in horror at the student who had bumped into you and was now running through the rain, not caring that they were getting soaked to the bone.

“HEY!”

You chased after them, your umbrella swaying as you ran through the pathway, shouting at the student to wait. You were no match for their pace 一 you could see that they had long legs 一 but they finally heard your shouts, slowed down, and turned to look at you.

Oh. Choi Yeonjun.

His hair was wet, with his bangs clinging to his forehead, and his hoodie was so drenched that it had turned from light grey to dark. He was still panting from his sprint and the dampness on his face was a mixture of rainfall and sweat.

You felt your face grow hot. Somehow offering to share an umbrella with someone you kind of knew was more embarrassing than doing it with a total stranger. But you were already here anyway and it seemed rude not to say anything.

“Uh, we can... share...”

You held the umbrella up above your head to accommodate his height and he laughed.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m headed to the gym for dance practice, it might be too far.”

“It’s okay! I’ll take you!”

That was a lie. The gym was in the opposite direction from the science building. But you had perfect attendance in class so far, so you figured that one late mark wasn’t too much of a cost.

Yeonjun giggled and took the umbrella from you. His hands were soft as they brushed against yours. Your whole body felt warm despite the chill from the rain. “I’ll hold it for us then,” he said.

You smiled and moved closer to him. “Thank you.”

“Nah, I should be thanking you. Coach would’ve embarrassed me in front of the whole team for being late. And I told the new members last week not to be late! I would’ve looked like a dummy in front of them.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but laugh too. His walking pace was brisk but you didn’t mind, keeping up with him and listening to him talk about his dance practice. A whole other world within the university campus seemed to open up in front of you, one of competitions and prizes and prestige and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Yet there was an unmistakable gleam in Yeonjun’s eyes as he talked about the team’s new routine and the higher challenge level for it.

“We’ve only got a week left so we really can’t waste any time,” he said. “So... thank you. This helps a lot, really.”

The two of you were standing in front of the gym entrance. The rain had died down to a drizzle, and he lowered your umbrella. The walk from the arts building had felt like both an eternity and a moment.

You took the umbrella from him and his hands lingered on the handle before he let go.

“See you around,” he said. “Good luck with class.”

“Yeah, see you... good luck with practice.”

Yeonjun turned and sprinted into the gym, and you headed back to find the path to the science building. Not a single worry about being late bothered you, and you couldn’t help yourself from smiling.

一

Yeonjun’s GPS led him to a boxy apartment building. It was painted completely white, reflecting the light of a nearby streetlamp, which gave it a sterile glow. He pursed his lips; not the most homey place to live, he mused, but at least it looked well-kept.

He turned to you and found you asleep in the passenger seat, his blanked draped over your shoulders. Your chest rose and fell ever so slightly from your breaths, and your expression was completely calm. There was no trace of the undertones of stress he’d sensed when he had approached you; whatever worries you had about your job seemed to disappear in your dreams. 

Yeonjun lifted a hand to tap your shoulder awake, but he hesitated. A wave of relief overcame him, and for a moment he couldn’t help but admire your serene expression as you slept. You looked so... content. Had he ever seen you look that way? While he had crossed paths with you only a few times, you had always looked as if something was on your mind. He could still see it all in his memories: the loneliness in your posture when he approached you at the party, the nervousness in your eyes when you had offered your umbrella to him. He wondered what worries were always plaguing you, and if anything could be done to keep them away.

At least he had returned the favor for the umbrella incident, he thought. And it only took him two years.

His hand was still hovering over your shoulder when you awoke. You blinked a few times to chase the sleepiness away before turning your head to look at him. A small smile spread across your face and Yeonjun felt a flutter stirring in his chest.

“Are we home...?” Your voice was still hoarse with sleep.

“Just got here.” He smiled. “I can walk you to your door...”

“Mm, okay...”

Your apartment door wasn’t far up, only on the third floor. You had his blanket draped around you like a scarf, and Yeonjun carried your bag for you. He set it down beside your door, its black paint finish contrasting with the white walls, and waited for you to unlock it.

It was only when you pushed the door open that you noticed his blanket around your shoulders. You tugged it off and handed it to him.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot一”

“Keep it.” Then, feeling a little bold, he continued: “You can give it to me the next time we see each other.”

“Next time...?”

His smile faltered. Did you not want to see him again? Was he being too forward? Did he overestimate how much you remembered him? Why did he feel so keen on seeing you again in the first place?

“You don’t 一 you don’t have to.” He reached a hand to take the blanket. “Sorry, I was, I was just...”

But you regained your senses from your nap and beamed at him. The sight of it sent another fluttering feeling through Yeonjun’s chest.

“No, I mean... I was just surprised that you’d want to catch up, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... um. I do want to catch up with you, Yeonjun.”

“Great! Oh shit一” He clasped his hands over his mouth. His voice had come out a little too loud. “I mean, let’s work something out. I can give you my number...”

一

You had been lying in bed for fifteen minutes and you were still awake. You should be trying to sleep for another day of overtime tomorrow, but all you could think about was your drive home with Yeonjun.

You reached for your phone on your nightstand and looked at his contact for the fourth or fifth time since you’d shut the door behind you. He had saved his contact name as “jjunie” with a little fox next to it, and the sight of it made you chuckle.

Did this really happen? You thought of the few times you had run into each other, seemingly at random: his cute little “bye” as he clutched a beer, or his damp hair sticking to his forehead as he held onto your umbrella. His life felt tangential to yours, always passing by you, but never with you. And yet you were holding on to your phone with his number in it and an offer to see each other again.

You laughed again and set the phone down on the bed, on top of the blanket that he had lent you, and rolled to your side. It didn’t matter now, you mused. Old memories gave way to newer ones: his smile as he opened the passenger side of his car for you, his humming to a jazz tune as he waited at the intersection, his soft hands placing the blanket in yours. 

No matter how things had been back then, they were different now. Yeonjun would stick around in your life for a little while. You might even have a friend, and the thought consoled you as you finally drifted off to sleep.

[ratherembarrassing]

alright pals, it's time for some rhaenicent fic recs, as asked for by literally 10s of you. here are nearly 500k words of things that have made me kick my heels with joy.

(for the full list of things i've liked enough to think someday i might like to find it again, see here.)

you don't know what love is (if you don't put up a fight) by tansymeadows. 144k, E. technically not finished, but the first 14 chapters feel like a complete story. rhaenyra returns just in time for viserys' death, alicent doesn't back aegon and instead rhaenyra is crowned queen. visenya lives, daemon takes his leave, and rhaenyra courts the dowager queen through the process of succession. the slowest slow burn to ever burn. there is so much plot, a whole-ass war, and they're so ridiculously in love. this fic is why it took me so long to finish compiling this list, because i sat and reread every single delicious word, because it circles back and forth all over their history in a way that just askjdhas. i've read this twice now and even just flipping through it to write this up is trying to suck me back in.

i dwell in possibility by ladybundle / @ladybundle. 29k (2 part series). viserys doesn't die and rhaenyra returns to king's landing. visenya lives, aegon dies, and alicent in this is the most tortured lesbian while they mend their relationship. i really dig the whole vibe of the writing in this, which feels very in character, if that makes sense for the vibe of a fic rather than just a character. the second fic is the origin of the 'alicent hightower's belated sexual awakening' tag i started using, which is a category of fics that i enjoy very, very much.

you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream by rosiep8801/ @rosehathaways-sidepiece. 12k, M. another one where viserys doesn't die and rhaenyra returns to king's landing, this time one in which they wholeheartedly and rabidly throw themselves into sorting their shit out, as they share a bed over and over each night as they battle through their issues. this one has my favourite iteration of the traditional alicent hightower learns of the female orgasm scene.

cleopatra by dontaskmedude. 52k, E. this one appears on every rec list i've ever seen, and rightfully so. kicks off with the weirwood scene in 104, and runs from there, a lovely alternate reality where alicent/rhaenyra/laenor/joffrey live the next 20-odd years in relative peace. this one smashes me in the feelings.

where fire and ice meet by wariangle. 41k, 4 part series, E. pre-series through to rhaenyra's ascension, everything's the same except she refuses to marry or have children. it's okay though, because she has a plan. i am deeply obsessed with "and they were two queens through machinations" fic. alicent in this is my actual fave, she's so spiky; the final fic in the series, although actually deeply sad, has a premise that makes me howl with laughter because obviously alicent hightower, lesbian with a wife for 20 years, would also be a massive homophobe.

not on the last day by revans_mask. 48k, E. alicent goes with otto to meet with rhaenyra and offer terms, and while she's there she slips rhaenyra a message. there are a couple of beats in this that are so romantic i clutched at my chest.

keep the promise in your mouth by iwantthemtostay / @iwantthemtostay. 87k, E. technically not finished, but only missing an epilogue. the closest thing to AU on this list; rhaenyra is barren, alicent has four daughters, and when viserys dies while rhaenyra is away from westeros, daemon takes the crown. when she returns, he forces alicent and rhaenyra to marry each other for reasons. as the summary says, they make the best of it. this fic makes me insane, it's so dreamy.

ride the dragon (do it quickly) by molter / @molter-writes. 36k, unrated. in the free real estate between 106 and 107, viserys sends rhaenyra and alicent to do some politicking in the north. alicent cannot stand the cold, so what is rhaenyra to do but share her bed to keep her warm. alicent is so angry about it.

thine is the queendom by liadrell / @lesbianalicent. 11k, M. the only non-ship fic on this list. an alicent character piece set in the free real estate between 105 and 106, and deal with the absolutely batshit fact that alicent was pregnant with daeron at the same time rhaenyra was pregnant with jace in a way that made me sad as fuck tbqh.

daughters of the dragon by DMCMercy. 14k, M. the kiddos patch things up with alicent's first pregnancy, kicking off what is not at all secretly one of my favourite categories of early canon divergence: alicent's other husband rhaenyra.

[fangweaver2099]

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - CH 2 - LONELY OLD MAN

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound @thedevaxer @bunnibitez @kodzuminx

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 3

Miguel didn’t realize he was lonely until it all hit at once.

He'd only had Gabriella for a week before Gabriel had swooped in, claiming 'uncle rights', to steal Gabriella away for the weekend. Things had been quiet since the divorce - Tempest had Gabi for the school year, and already, he was feeling distinctly alone, all too aware of the daughter sized hole his brother had forced him cruelly and unusually into. 

He was lonely. After the divorce, things had been quiet. Most of his friends had grown distant, with some vanishing and flocking to Tempest's side following their separation. Once a cheater, always a cheater, they'd proclaimed. 

He hadn't even cheated on her… at least, not that time. 

He was doing everything right- he had grown as a man and as a father too. He was ready to settle down, but Tempest had other plans. It was a mutual decision, best for everyone. There were no hard feelings on his end, but the pain of an empty house was new and raw. He had always lived with someone - his mother, stepfather and brother, then a roommate, then his brother as a roommate, then a string of girlfriends. 

He always got the feeling Tempest never really wanted a marriage, but health insurance was too good a deal to give up. It made logical sense, even if she was hesitant at first. 

She’d been involved in the kink scene since before he’d ever met her. She was polyamorous, and that had never been a problem either - he even tried it himself but decided it wasn’t for him. It was a boon, even, when he worked late into the night and Tempest needed somebody to keep her entertained. 

When Gabi was born, it became more of an issue. He knew from the second he saw her that she was his , not just a daughter but his entire world, and suddenly, the idea of Tempest running around, leaving Gabriella in the hands of total strangers was… suddenly unacceptable. Eventually, he acquiesced to family babysitting, but even then, it itched. 

So Webrigger2099 disappeared, logging out one day and never logging in again. He just didn’t have the time, or the interest, or, with Gabi, the desire. Besides, he was married. The archetypal family man he’d never thought he’d want to be.  

But still, neither of them were happy. Tempest didn’t like being tied down, and he didn’t like the fact the mother of his child roamed late into the night dallying while he worked. It led to arguments, to stress, and, inevitably -

To divorce. Tempest was a free spirit - Miguel was not. She took Gabriella during the school year, he got her during the summer, and that was enough. 

None of the phone calls or report cards she’d sent would make it easier to cope with the loneliness.

Years later, and the big house began to feel cavernous, more a church to the worship of solitary confinement than a home. No daughter, no wife, no family, just himself, online papers to grade, and the week old takeout container of Chinese he’d been steadily avoiding eating. 

On a whim, he’d logged back into the account, and there, he’d found… Fawn. Local to the area - and wearing a black facemask in every photo you took. You were beautiful. 

Things had gone great. He was having fun. He wasn’t ready for romance, sure, but a man had needs.

He didn’t need to see any more than your eyes to be hooked, but the rest was icing on the cake. Now that he had seen your lips he was even more charmed, despite the circumstances.

You were genuine, a little bit awkward but sweet and eager. Like a virgin, unsure of yourself and needing guidance by a firm but caring hand. And god, you trusted him off the bat. 

That power could have been abused easily, and he even warned you as much. Strange men online were not the most trustworthy souls, him least of all. You were his pet, after all, and it was his responsibility to make sure you knew how to tell good from bad.

You were clearly not that experienced, not in sex or in dynamics. You needed guidance on how to touch yourself properly, even. He knew your body better than yourself and that wasn’t exactly something he wanted to pass on to your next dom. Better you learned with his teaching what you wanted and needed.

Maybe he had gotten more attached than he liked to admit, protective of you. It wasn’t like he could keep you to himself forever, as fun as that might have been, but still, he found himself looking forward to your messages. 

You were the only one he had ever really felt that way about, to be perfectly honest with himself. Getting married to Tempest was a necessity because of the baby, and sure he loved her, but the cracks began showing quickly into the pregnancy. 

Not you, you seemed to want what he wanted. Nothing too serious, long-term not permanent, but still intimate. 

It wasn’t fair. 

(Nothing in his life was ever fair.)

Miguel’s hands steepled in front of him, a single bead of sweat running down his brow. He was hard as diamonds, but his stomach churned with sickness. This was not a development he was expecting.

The ticking clock on the wall was the only noise in Miguel’s office, and he was thankful he couldn’t hear his own heartbeat in his ears. 

He prayed he was wrong - there were well over eight million people in NYC and over fifteen different colleges, maybe you just had a similar tattoo.. And.. build… and hair color… Yeah, that seemed likely.

You stupid fuck , he cursed himself. 

It seemed like he just couldn’t stop losing. 

Divorced at 32, a mother that hated him, a tense relationship with his brother, a tenser relationship with his biological father.

And a little girl he only had custody of during the summer.

This job was supposed to get him away from the stress that came with working at corporate HQ. 

This job was supposed to make everything easier. His two escapes - this job and Fawn - were about to implode all at once.

His phone sat in front of him, mocking him for his paralyzed fear. It should have been simple to check, to compare the tattoos and bikini and write it off as a mistake. Or… maybe he didn’t want to even consider the possibility that he had been sexting with one of his new students for three months, much less what he would do if that was the case.

Fawn would have noticed by now, right? Anonymity sending pictures had its limits and he knew he had an imposing physique. If you were Fawn - you’d surely notice. You’d bring it up, right?

(Then again, college girls weren’t exactly the most perceptive people.)

You - Fawn didn’t seem like the STEM type, had to be something artsy . Right?

Miguel was a lapsed Catholic and yet he found himself praying that he was wrong. 

A much worse possibility crept into his mind. You knew, and you liked this turn of events. You didn’t seem like the malicious sort, not interested in blackmailing him for a good grade, but maybe it was some fucked up kink thing. The power dynamic was there, the secretiveness it necessitated, the wrongness of it all. Intentional or not, if word got out your position here was gone.

Besides, Fawn was twenty-three .

She couldn’t be a freshman in her second year. The 4.0 GPA and high marks in your last semester didn’t hint at someone who had to repeat introductory classes. 

Or Fawn lied about her age. 

That would be even worse.

This was all some terrible mistake. Maybe her tattoo was a tik tok trend of some kind, he would even settle for it being a mark of membership for a cult. Anything was better than the alternative.

Still, Miguel stared at the dark phone screen in his hands. He had ten minutes at most before class started and he had to get to the bottom of this before then. 

He snatched the phone with urgency, scrolling quickly through his messages in a frantic search.

He found himself enlarging the image Fawn sent the last evening, just in her bikini. His eyes focused on her arm and that teary-eyed fawn laid down in a bed of grayscale roses. 

Miguel was a scientist, he worked through logical conclusions. It was simple inductive reasoning. The placement was the same, even the framed roses. 

You and Fawn had similar eyes, similar eye color, similar skin tone - but Fawn’s pictures were always a bit dark or cloudy, her phone was far from new, so the darker skin tone would make sense, right? But you were wearing glasses today, he swore that he’d never seen Fawn wearing glasses.

He placed down the phone for a moment, running his hands over his face with a panicked sigh, trying to keep himself calm. He was so deeply fucked. Contact lenses were used by all sorts of people, and glasses could fog up with a mask on or ruin photos from the flash.

How the fuck had he not noticed? It’d been almost three weeks .

Here, Miguel thought everything was looking good. In truth he adored Fawn. Her companionship, friendship? …Pethood? He didn’t need to really figure that out right now - it was something he enjoyed. 

Despite his reservations that she - young and inexperienced - would instantly take his feelings to her as romantic she seemed no problem drawing the line in the sand. 

She was perfect , it’s why he wanted to meet her.

Now she might be you . 

His student. 

One who he was pretty sure despised him. 

You never even bothered to ask questions, you sat by Taylor while she stared daggers into him every lesson. Your work was middling at best and you liked to cut corners.

Fawn wouldn’t do that, right ?

He had to get to the bottom of this, right now. Miguel was a good man, he took care of his daughter, he watched over his kinda-niece. He contributed to the community - he took care of people.

 Miguel was not the kind of man to sext with one of his students. 

Not on purpose, anyway , he thought grimly, slinking into his chair as he fought the urge to hurl.

No. This was fixable, confirmable. He’d just ask you to talk after class. Quick, easy. Confirm you had a twin who he just happened to find online. 

(The whole point of Miguel’s anonymity was to protect himself, not fuck himself over.)

And if it was you? Well he couldn’t reveal it was him, surely. He would have to make an excuse as Web, some reason that he had to stop talking to her. 

Maybe Web died getting hit by a bus.

He opened the phone again with a click, scrolling through the media tab. He considered for a moment sending fawn a message. He didn’t know what college she went to, or her class schedule. 

He saw that the last time she was on Telegram was an hour ago, she hadn’t checked in since then. 

He glanced up at the time on his phone. 8:58.

He took a deep breath, counting to 10 and then tossing his phone back in his bag. It took him a moment to stand and fix the collar of his shirt before he walked back down the hall to his classroom.

The hall was full, students looking exhausted or unamused was something Miguel was used to.

It was very hard to not stare at you - sitting in the back of the class, half your body hidden by your laptop wearing a dour expression. You were far enough back your features were mostly nondescript. 

Miguel didn’t particularly like teaching, it was technically his ‘hobby’. It wasn’t hard outside of the students. He didn’t do well talking to large rooms but hey - that was fine. He was technically a headhunter for Alchemax after all. 

Right now teaching was awful . Miguel wanted to be anywhere but here and found himself randomly pausing during the lecture. Luckily everyone was too tired to notice.

How on earth was he supposed to even proceed? He had invested himself in you, two almost three months of talking and flirting, finally finding someone that had similar interests and intentions. 

If he had known before, seen you the first day of class after already meeting, he could simply help you sign up for another class and they’d never see each other again.

It would all end there, too awkward to continue.

Now, it was more complicated. 

He couldn’t meet in the summers because he had Gabriella, and she was far more important than a fun fling. He had a responsibility for his daughter, and he made the most out of his time with her as fleeting as it was. 

The summer, and a few weekends here and there during the school semester. It was the perfect set up, one that allowed him to dip his toes back into the scene and find a little companionship and fun. 

Nothing too serious, of course. Not yet.

He couldn’t just continue things as they were. She had been in his class too long, and if she transferred now there would be questions before it was allowed. How would he explain it to the department lead? 

Jess wasn’t exactly pleased with what students thought of him as it was. 

The news of him fucking one of his students would be the nail in the coffin before sending him back to Alchemax with his head held down in shame.

He did have the advantage that he - technically - wasn’t fucking Fawn. 

He needed to talk to you.

The rest of class went… as normal as it could. As normal as him occasionally seeing your bored face as you typed away notes of what he was explaining. He forgot to ask if anyone had questions again before he clicked off the powerpoint. 

He’d pull you aside the moment you walked past him, call you over. Easy. Quick. Just a conversation and then hopefully it was all one big mistake and you’d be off to whatever you did at 11AM on a Monday. 

Problem. When you stood, both of the students you always sat with rose with you. The black-haired woman even interlocked her arm with yours. You were smiling and chatting away with the rude, redheaded one who was easily a head shorter than you.

When you finally turned to leave, Miguel cleared his throat. You and your two friends stopped. The redhead frowned. Your eyes widened for a moment. 

He said your name, which only made your surprised expression worse. Miguel was grimacing. “I  need to-” 

Suddenly, a sugar-sweet voice called your name, Taylor, and Babette. Everyone glanced over at the door to - Aurora.

Miguel’s brows raised. 

“We gotta go, I left Kore with the car running!” She practically skipped into the room to you and Babette in the squealing, touchy way college girls always seemed to enact upon seeing their friends. Babette practically screeched and pulled Aurora into a hug.  

“Oh- Uncle Miggy!” Aurora exclaimed after releasing Babette. Babette and you gasped and looked over at Miguel.

There was no way. He didn’t say anything, stunned into silence. Aurora - his ex wife’s niece… cousin… thing. He wasn’t entirely sure. He had known the girl since she was 13. She was Gabriella's babysitter most of the time… and… somehow... your friend. 

You grinned at Aurora as she took the other place at your side, hooking her arm around yours and waving  goodbye. She was practically pulling you and Babette out of the room, Taylor trailing behind with their hands in their pockets. 

So. Miguel was left standing there - alone, dumbfounded. It was only getting worse. Much worse. He walked back to his office in silence, an unblinking, thousand-yard stare ignoring Professor Parker as he tried to flag Miguel on the way inside, the door shutting hard behind him. 

He sat, sinking into his chair, and flipped his phone open. Clicking open the browser, he opened up Aurora’s instagram. That’s what the kids used for all their social media nowadays, right? He had been told about it by his ex-wife and… ex sister-in-law, part of his ‘job’ is keeping an eye on Aurora. While they expected him to monitor her, the truth was he checked in once or twice a semester to see if she was still alive. She had his number for emergencies, and he kept his hands off. It was a good system, one he didn’t have to think about. 

Kids could take care of themselves… Kids. Fawn was practically a kid, a young twenty something that had her whole life ahead of her.

God. Was he a pervert?

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he scrolled through Aurora’s page. Just as he expected, the screen was littered with photos of you. 

On campus, at restaurants, at an apartment with you, both of you in your pajamas. Miguel swore you saw a picture that peeked into your bedroom, a familiar sight from your photos. 

You weren’t just one of her friends - you were her roommate .

Miguel took a deep breath, fussing with his dark hair as he checked the time on his phone. He had to be at Alchemax by now. So despite the anxiety curdling his gut, Miguel made his way out of the college building.

Driving had always been a comfort for Miguel, his mind half shutting off and relying on pure instinct as he saw the world flash quickly to his sides. Usually he didn’t think of much anything at all while he drove, taking it as a quiet moment amid the chaos of his responsibilities. 

There was too much going on to relax like that. He felt sick as he drove, chest tight and stomach churning. Every relationship he had ever had with a woman seemed to crash and burn, romantic or otherwise. His long list of exes, his mother, now you. Would Gabriella be next, another casualty of his inevitable fuck-ups?

Miguel had really liked - still liked - you. The thing you two had was good, was fun and casual. There were no big expectations. No hard feelings about him having other priorities.

This was easier until it wasn’t.

Was it even possible for something like this to work out? He didn’t want to lose you, but it seemed like the only option as the complications stacked up.

He sat with this feeling through the whole ride, and well into his shift at the lab. He tried to pour over the plans in front of him, the techs trying to explain their work while he was gone… But he was obviously distracted.

“Is this a bad time, Dr. O’Hara?” His assistant chimed, a concerned look on her face as she tipped her head curiously. She had been talking to him for a minute at least, but only when he heard his name did he snap into momentary focus. 

The woman in front of him had worked closely with Miguel for years, a reliable if quirky sort some years his junior. Her heart-shaped glasses were hardly fitting in with uniform regulations, but it's not like she was handling chemicals. Not now, anyway. 

She was probably the closest thing to what he would call a friend, and he really didn’t want to call Parker a friend even if he was a man of honor at Peter’s wedding. She was better at respecting boundaries.

“Sorry, no. Just a… Headache today. Can you repeat that, Lyla?” He shifted his attention to her as best he could, rubbing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. The doctors told him he needed to stop staying so tense all the time, to release the pressure in his shoulders. It was almost painful when he let them slump, but the shock was probably the only thing keeping him alert.

“I’ll type it up in an email, it’s not that important. You look like shit.” The brunette sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly. She was never one to talk fluff. It was part of why he liked her so much.

An email. A text. No, this was too important to type to her. He would have to wait til the next class.

Besides, What if he was wrong? How would he explain that to Fawn? She was already a bit nervous and new to all this.

Just as the door clicked behind her Miguel heard a ping at his phone, a familiar username popping into view.

“Off to the shore now. I’ll make sure to take pics :3” - Fawnteeth - 12:05 PM

[byoldervine]

Hi! I just found your blog! I was wondering if you had any tips on writing a good, strong first chapter or two for fan fiction? I’m doing a cross over and I always have trouble in the beginning of my stories. I would love some advice! Thank you!

Welcome to the blog! It’s been a good long while since I wrote any fanfic, let alone started one, but I’ll see what I’ve got up my sleeves!

1. Open with a question. This doesn’t mean the first line has to be a literal question, it just means that your first line should make readers ask questions in their mind that encourage them to continue reading. If you open with something self-explanatory like “I woke up and opened the curtains”, that does give an idea of the scene and the time, but it doesn’t add any incentive to read on. Reframing it to something like “Opening the curtains might have been a bad idea”, you create intrigue; why was it a bad idea? Did they see something bad out the window? Additionally, it can take you straight into the action, which works well with my next tip

2. No need for introductions. With original writing you often have to set the scene more and ensure characters are introduced and well-established, and that often comes with the advice that you shouldn’t introduce too many new names and faces in the same chapter, but in fanfic you can safely assume that your readers are familiar with the characters and world already, meaning you can jump straight into the plot and throw as many canon characters at it as you like. Take advantage of this!

3. Vibe check. Your opening chapter can set the theme or tone of your fic, so pay attention; if you want something lighthearted and funny, have everyone cracking jokes or just generally not taking it all seriously. If you want angst and trauma, it helps if the tone is more serious. If you want romance, have that vibe either through a love at first sight deal or by using other established couples to set the mood. Even if by the second chapter the vibe has changed so you can build back up to it going forward, it’s nice to have that overall feel in the first chapter so you know what you’re getting into going forward; if readers like the initial vibe, they’ll like the fic. It gives them a taste of what’s to come

4. Take advantage of quirks. With original writing, the author has to pave the way for subtle quirks and mannerisms and dynamics to be recognisable by the reader - but in fic, you have the advantage of the readers already being familiar. You can use this to make characters feel more alive and, well, in-character, and thanks to their pre-established characterisation you can utilise it from the start. Maybe there are subtleties in their actions that you can take advantage of plot-wise? Or in your case with the crossover, it could maybe signify to Crew A that Crew B are very tight-knit and know each other and their strengths and weaknesses well

5. Have fun with it. Fic writing tends to be a lot more unserious than original writing; you certainly do your best with it, but everyone knows that it’s just for fun and won’t hold you to the expectations of a professional like some people sadly would for those writing original fic for the same reason. In any case, you can take a breather with fic writing, and ultimately the only way to do it wrong is to not have fun writing it

It’s a little difficult to give pointers that are purely fic-related, especially when I’m unfamiliar with the crossover plan, so it also might be beneficial to read other fics of those fandoms and any crossovers you can find if possible! Best of luck with your fic!

[zeebee3]

AO3 tag game

Thank you for tagging me @so-scarlett-maroon!

How many works do you have on AO3? 43

What's your total AO3 word count? 926,285

What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter (at least nowadays)

Top five fics by kudos:

(All are Dramione and rated explicit)

You Do It For Me- WIP, currently 44 chapters and 200+k. 8th year, Draco learns that Hermione has never had an orgasm, so offers to help her. It's a story of who-fell-first/who-fell-harder, lazy river romance and friend group hangs. Lots of games, banter, and yet somehow still basically pure smut.

Would You Rather - The first smutty one (ahem four)-shot I ever wrote! 4 chapters, 14.5k, complete. Draco antagonizes Hermione into playing 'would you rather' while working on a joint assignment in the library. He doesn't think women wank and Hermione decides to prove him wrong.

A Good Landing- 2 chapters, 14.5k, complete. The five times Hermione accidentally sat on Draco's lap, and the one time she meant to. Post-Hogwarts, friend group hijinks, and Hermione has a secret piercing.

It Was A Sunny Day- One-shot, 7.4k, complete. Auror Hermione needs help retrieving a memory from a mission she went on. Auror Draco is sent to use legilimency to retrieve it. This is entirely an excuse for me to write legilimency smut, feat accidental stimulation, dry humping/cockwarming, and a successful assignment.

Baby, Anytime You're Ready, I'm Yours - 11 chapters, 27k, complete. Post-Hogwarts intermixing Slytherin-Gryffindor friend group goes on a weekend holiday. Draco is in love but Hermione thinks they're just best friends. Rom-com vibes, found family vibes, and one of my favorite scenes I've ever written 🤭

Do you respond to comments? I really, really try my best! It's hard to stay on top of them sometimes but I've made so many friends via my comment section and it's such a fun place to interact with the fandom! But it's a time commitment and sometimes I get super behind 😭

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Disturbingly Capable. It has an open-ending and that's usually pretty angsty, plus it's a Death Eater Draco/Order Member Hermione fic so that's always a little angsty. Ooh either that or A Gentle Haunting, which is a retelling of Ginny's possession by Riddle's diary.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest endings? Most of my fics have happy endings so it's hard to decide which is happiest. But possibly one of the ones that ended in proposals? Those were super sappy/happy (Just The Lightest Touch (Hinny), An Indecent Proposal (Panville)). OH or Kindling. That one ends with Draco ending his five years agonized pining, so he's pretty freaking happy.

Do you get hate on fics? Not that I've seen (and I sure don't look for it). I get comments softly demanding things sometimes but none that are aggressively rude or hurtful. I've been super lucky to have the nicest, most supportive readers 🥹🫶

Do you write smut? It's arguably the only thing I write 🙃

Craziest crossover? I've never written a crossover, though I'm currently writing a Formula One crossover so I guess that one!

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yeah, a few times that I've been informed of (and thank you to the detectives out there who spot them!). So far, they've always been Drarryified which is, frankly, hilarious to me since Harry and Hermione are NOT a one-for-one replacement, nor is Drarry Draco anything like Dramione Draco imo. But I digress.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! You Do It For Me is being translated into Chinese here, which is very cool.

Have you ever co-written a fic? No, but I've co-planned a fic and one day we shall write it!!!!

All time favorite ships? Dramione is creeping up as my top favorite, but Drarry is a close second. Dreomione is also a delight. I'm a sucker for rare pairs, too, and will pretty much read any pairing once.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you will? Look. I can't let myself doubt it. It has to be finished. AND IT WILL BE. (I'm looking at you, Balance & Oppose 🥹🫶). I do have a veritable fuckton of unfinished wips in my drafts though, none of which have ever been posted, so I'm sure one of them in there will never actually be finished. But again...I'll never say never.

What are my writing strengths? What I find easiest to write are smut scenes, relationship dynamics, dialogue, and carrying the flow. Are those what I'm strongest in? idk man.

What are your writing weakness? Having any fcking idea where a story is going before I start, and therefore inevitably leaving loose threads along the way.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't mind reading it as long as the context around it makes sense, but if it's a full convo that I need to check the end notes for, it's less enticing.

First Fandom that you wrote in? Mistborn

Favorite fic(s) you've written? Balance & Oppose is the fic I put the most effort into and for that, it always has a top spot in my heart. You Do It For Me is my favorite of fics I'm actively writing. And my favorite completed fic is probably There's Nobody Like You (BlaisexRon) or Say Please (tattoo artist Draco).

If you made it to the end, I admire your tenacity! 👏🏻

I'm tagging @smolbangs, @goldenbuckyyy, @willowingscribe, @sultrynuns, @youhavemyswordandmybow (if tag games aren't you're thing, no worries!)

[hearthouses]

top 4 works of 2023

I was tagged by @nameslikeguns and also @preseriesdean was an inspiration, but I modified it to four because I'm not super proud of any of my edits this year and I wasn't able to squeeze out another fic before the end of the year, so we're going with top four! I am also not going to rank them, but list them in chronological order from their posting date.

This year was a better year than the last two in terms of writing output, I had a rough 2021 and posted nothing, and only posted one fic in 2022, so four is a massive improvement, even if it feels miniscule compared of other people's outputs. The Fall was when I was most productive and I am very proud of what I wrote then, exploring concepts I was particularly interested in, even if it's not the most popular and putting myslf out there regardless.

I think I would have continued that streak had I not gotten covid, then 2+ months of complications from covid, but I am trying to drag myself out of that funk. I am hoping to write more in 2024 as I have so many WIPs I want to get to and finish.

Anyway, here's the list:

1. when you're smiling and astride me

This was the first work I posted this year. It felt good to write it, but it also came with some challenges because I wrote it for an exchange and I was very nervous with some of the concepts and how they would go over. But the exchange itself was based on the idea of freeing your id and going wild, so I eventually just went with it and this was the result. I really love exploring Dean's feelings about his body and gender expression, and how Sam helps with it, and my only regret is I wish it was longer.

2. you say, go fast (i say, hold on tight)

This was written in a haze of early Fall because of another exchange that created a level of freedom that unlocked something in my brain that kept me from second guessing myself. It sprang from a concept fanvid and I came up with the idea wholesale from some mental images and let the story happen. I'm very fond of the result, even if it feels saccharine and too sweet and romantic for some. I really love the vibes and the imagery, plus how in love Sam and Dean are.

3. the landscape after cruelty

The process for this fic was grueling. No idea was working the way I wanted, so I needed to come up with a new idea altogether and at times, I almost didn't finish this fic. I have no playlist because I needed quiet to work on this. None of my usual preparations for writing fic worked for this one. The subject matter was daunting and I'm still unsure if I accomplished what I set out to, but I am proud of it. It's not very popular and I wonder if I hit the wrong notes often, but I'm also very protective of it. It's a weird fic that I'm not sure how I feel about the end result 100%, but I had to at least try and explore my feelings around the subject matter.

4. we could live forever in each other’s faces

This fic was written during the height of my illness. It wasn't supposed to be the fic I wrote because I had bigger plans (longer, more complicated fics), so I needed to scale them down to something more managable. How I did that was I chose to write the scenes in a series of drabbles, double drabbles, and triple drabbles, so I could focus on the preciseness of the word count. While this style of writing might feels limiting, it helps me to focus. I really love the dreamy, fairytale-like result of this. I still want to write a longer fic about these themes, but I am glad I wrote this all the same.

[dead-dolphins]

Oh, since I can share my writer's problems here, I want to tell my story.

Let's start with the fact that. Well. I can't write, ha-ha.

Okay, fr I'm really exaggerating. Usually I write fics out of. Anger? Because I don't find anything in the fandom that warms my soul, or what I see does not meet my expectations or even insults the characters in my eyes, and I want to write something that I would like to read myself. And I write. But.

My first problem is that I can't make a plan or a script. I can only write impromptu, and I find that my thoughts float away and transform into something completely different from what I originally wanted to convey. But that's only half the trouble, at least in this case I can save the idea and transfer it to later.

My second problem is that I write very vanilla, very loving and very (in my opinion) sensual porn. You know, porn for soul, lol. And I don’t know how to stop until I feel that yes, this is the end. I was once advised to try to justify long sex scenes with non-human biology like the omegaverse one, but now it turns out that not counting the plot part, I get about 20k words of one big piece of a very long smut that I cannot split. Should I worry about this? Should I write what I want to write, even if from the outside it seems like VERY drawn-out sex and hardly anyone will read it? And how can I force myself to write a damn script, lol?

First, let me just say that writing from a place of passion (or in your case, anger, haha) is valid. In fact, some of the best stories come from that need to create what you want to see in the world. So don’t be too hard on yourself for that, it’s such a powerful motivator!

As for planning: not everyone is a planner, and sometimes, writing on the road leads to the most authentic work. But if you feel like your thoughts are drifting too much, you could try jotting down, mini notes, nothing too structured, just a few key points that you want to achieve in your writing. You don’t need a full script, just a rough guide to keep you on track while still letting your creativity flow. Sometimes those tangents lead to gold, so don’t worry too much about going off-course.

Now, about the "porn for the soul" (I giggled here, I'm sorry!) ! If long, sensual scenes are your thing, own it! There’s no rule that says you have to keep things short or cut down on the intensity if that’s what speaks to you. Readers who appreciate your style will totally vibe with it, and sometimes, especially if they’re well-written (which I’m sure yours are). As for the word count, it’s only an issue if you feel like it’s a problem. If you enjoy writing it, others will enjoy reading it, there’s definitely an audience for everything.

Forcing yourself to write a script? I'm telling you, it's not necessary as it may seem but, instead of diving into a full script, why don0t you try outlining just the next chapter or small scene? Break it down into smaller chunks so it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. Sometimes the thought of a whole script can be paralysing, but working bit by bit makes it more manageable. Just find what works best for you—no right or wrong way to do it!

[icejinlov3r]

So, I just had a super fun DB dream, and I wanna share it before I forget it.

Now not the whole dream was DB themed, and seemed to have several “side plots” going on, but this was by far the best one in my opinion.

But anyway, it took place in some sort of big city, like the Big Apple - it really had a cheesy 80’s movie vibe going. There was a mafia gang ran by King Cold, with Frieza as the second in command, and Frost as Frieza’s right hand man (with the most mafia looking outfits I’d ever seen - I will draw them later)

King Cold had just hired Hit as a temporary member, wanting him to kill….someone. Whoever was apparently the main “hero”, and I don’t remember if that was me or some other character/person. But anyway, Hit agrees, but only on the condition that he gets paid handsomely.

Frost is sent off with some grunt men to….I think rob a bank or something to get the money. The whole scene felt very much like a kid’s cartoon, where at first it looks like Frost has the upper hand, being overly confident and wicked - but ultimately almost everyone gets their asses handed to them (again, I don’t remember who the hell the hero was). I don’t think anyone was killed, but Frost managed to somehow get away with the money.

Small timeskip into the dream later, it looks like King Cold is going to do some sort of plan into motion, and puts Frieza in charge of it - as well as tells him he better no screw up. Hit also makes it clear that if things go awry, and they failed, he too would “take care of them” - I don’t remember why. Probably to make sure he didn’t go down with them.

Anyway, Frieza is more than confident in being successful in this plan, and much like his real character, acts arrogant about it. He sends the whole gang to some sort of restaurant/establishment for a big fight, except for him, Frost, and Hit, who stay back at the main headquarters.

Unfortunately, everything swiftly falls apart. Everyone is defeated, leaving Frieza and Frost completely panicked and flustered as they try to figure out what to do. But it’s too let to turn things around as Hit comes closer to them. Again, it felt a lot more like a kid’s cartoon, where the villain faces their comedic defeat, and Frieza and Frost were literally screaming like little girls while hugging each other in panic.

Their fate is cute off after that. I’m guessing either Hit killed them or he kidnapped them for some reason - but I have a feeling he didn’t kill them.

Anyway, is this whole thing giving me an idea for a possible future fic? Absolutely! Am I going to draw Frieza and Frost in their mafia outfits? Oh hell yeah!

[tinypandacakes]

Hello! I hope everything is going well with you :)

I'm so immersed and genuinely impressed with your writing!!! Do you have any advice on writing a first chapter or for writing long fanfics in general? Are there any things you keep in mind or plan out before starting?

Thank you!💗

🥹 thank you so much! Sorry this is so late but it got trapped in my drafts! I’m no pro by any means, just a hobby writer but this is what works for me — (kind of wordy/rambling so under the cut)

Like a lot of writers, I am much better at starting long fics than finishing them please don’t look at all my WIPs that need updates but in general all my fics start from a daydream that completely consumes me until I am compelled to write it so I don’t spontaneously combust. trapper keeper was originally a single bedsharing scene that gripped my brain and wouldn’t let go.

Outside of actual writing advice, I think reading more has improved my writing. I read a fic and go “fuck, that was incredible, I wish I could write like that.” And then realize: I can!!!! I try to pick out what I liked about it and how to emulate the elements I enjoyed and incorporate those style bits into my own writing.

Some people are “plotters” and some people are “pantsers” (figuring it out as you go/writing by the seat of your pants) and some are in between. I pants it until I’m forced to plot because writing on vibes alone only takes me so far…so I have a master plot point document. Nothing excessive, just barebones plot beats.

People usually get stuck in the middle of fics because they know what start and finish they want, but the middle is kind of boggy and unclear — a little early plotting helps get past that and prevent you from writing yourself into a hole!

But if you’re super inspired by a random scene you can’t stop thinking about, just start writing that part and you can figure out the rest/plot it later…do whatever gets you to actually write something instead of just daydreaming.

I write on my phone 85% of the time time, which is nice so if I get a random idea or burst of inspiration I can jot it down. My chapter outlines are just half-coherent bullet points and lines that I think of like in the Target parking lot in the 30 seconds before I go unbuckle my kids to go inside or while walking. I do a lot of thinking and jotting while walking.

I enjoy reading and writing a first chapter that kind of throws you in the middle of something and unfolds from there…don’t need a ton of explanation because we can learn as we go.

Sorry if this was super rambly! But I think the biggest piece of advice that is super cliche but true is to write for yourself first. write what you want and what interests you. Be self indulgent. Have fun with it! That passion will shine through!💕

[bolithesenate]

hiiii

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

sorry this took a while. i was hiking. and then i was sloshed from hiking.

13 - the big fat goose-egg is the norm. zero planning. even if I try to do planning, what I actually put down devolves from what i planned so quickly that it doesn't bear any resemblance to it anyways.

so why bother?

(that being said, I do come up with a lot of worldbuilding seperately and without it being tied to writing. Like, i will think up elaborate subsections to the jedi service corps and make flowcharts which i then can use in fics, but that's not tied to a specific project usually)

23 - vibes. i write until there is a good stopping point and i've reached the rough amount of words i wanna go for (i try to keep all my chapters at around the same length)

29 - i don't have anything that's i won't ever post, but u can have one of the mud fic deleted scenes that i haven't yet put into the deleted scenes fic :P

The flitting lights of Coruscant's nightlife blinking through the window painted Sifo's face into an ever changing cascade of wandering shadows. His eyes, whenever the light caught in them, had the blurred, dreamlike quality they often took on after a vision passed.

He was staring out of the window. Captured by the passing speeders and holo billboards.

"Sy?," Yan asked quietly, placing one hand on the other's thigh.

Almost unwillingly, Sifo pulled himself away from the mesmerizing view, directing his gaze towards Yan below him. 

As if only realizing now that the other Jedi was in the same bed, happy surprise rolled off him in gentle waves. Elation but no recognition. Yan's heart sank. He reached out in the Force, already guessing what he'd find.

Sifo's mind, normally a roiling cloud - gentle but powerful, always in a tug-of-war with the ambient Unifying Force -, was more akin to a light fog now. Spread out, barely more than a slightly louder whisper against the backdrop of the Temple's own hum in the Living.

Quiet fear gripped Yan.

This wasn't good. Not good at all.

Sifo hadn't felt this… thinned out in forever. Not since the first few visions, right after the incident itself, where none of them had truly known how to properly aid him through them. 

Yan pushed himself up, meeting Sy who - for some reason - had been straddling his middle halfway. His arms wrapped around his frail form, pulling him into a desperate hug. 

"Don't you dare lose yourself now, Sy. We've come so far," he whispered in the other's ears as he scrambled to, best as he could, help the Seer pull the bits and pieces of his being back together. It was like trying to catch fog with his fingers, always slipping through, barely following the paths he laid out. He tried to not let the fear get ahold of him. It wouldn't serve anyone in this situation. 

Sifo - Sifo's body, his mind was almost completely gone - let out a shuddering breath against the nape of Yan's neck.

It felt like the breath of a dying man.

Screw the Order's tenants. Yan was properly panicking now.

(This was too close, way too close to back then when Sifo had first lost himself to a violent vision. They had thought this under control. It wasn't supposed to happen like this anymore.)

Yan couldn't say how long he sat there, cradling Sifo close, pulling him back together like wet sand in the flood.

Piece by piece.

Memory by memory.

Every second he feared that he'd not be fast enough, feared that the bit of Sifo that remained - the bit that remembered that his body needed to breathe and his heart needed to beat. That he wouldn't irrevocably come apart when he was right there in his grasp.

The entire time, not that he remembered much of it, he was too focussed on gathering Sy's mind back together, Yan was muttering into the other man's ears. It just spilled out of him. Everything, from paltry stories to fond memories and ruthless threats that if he didn't come back… well, Yan wasn't sure what he'd do, but it wouldn't be in accordance with the Order's tenants. At all. 

Somewhere in there there might have been a confession of feelings he wasn't entirely clear on himself.

There might have been promises. Promises of a future together, bound by every vow and bond imaginable. Bound by so many ties that Sy would never get lost like this again.

[ao3-oner]

help i keep on coming back to your metro lines au :( I love all your works but I think this is my fave (jk I'll probably change my mind tomorrow). I think someone already asked you about other hcs before, but if you can share more hehe also if you're planning any future fics on it?

Ahh thank you so much!! I’m so glad that that fic made a lasting impression on you - Metro Lines is definitely the fic that I worked the hardest on and I tend to think of it as my best-written work, so it means a lot to me to hear that you enjoyed it.

I do actually have a couple of ideas for other fics in the Metro Lines universe that I hope to get around to writing one day, the least-developed of which is a CanMaker-centric companion piece that, tbh, was inspired by the person who asked me for Metro Lines CanMaker hcs. I had a few vague ideas about their characters/relationship before, but writing those hcs made me really want to write a full little fic for them. Paintmaker Geonbu (wait paintmaker + paint cans = literal can maker??? Should I just call Metro Lines universe CanMaker “PaintMaker”?!) is very near to my heart, as is stamp carver Yonghyuk, so I’d love to write about their stories!!

The second fic idea is another spin-off that I was thinking about from the moment I first started the fic (I considered writing this directly after publishing Metro Lines, but got distracted) titled “Your Body, My Temple”. It is a prequel fic about the incredibly storied relationship between Tattoo Artist!Ruler and this universe’s Lehends. They are very messy and very physical but they’re artistic and tragic in their own beautiful way. While I am not brainrotting about them nearly as hard now as I was a month ago, I would not be surprised if they make a resurgence in my hyperfixation cycle at some point.

My final idea is “Paint the Town Red”, a proper sequel to Metro Lines and a continuation of Suhwan’s journey of self-exploration and finding his artistic style. This fic would explore the dynasties and dystopia of this universe’s street artist scene and how Suhwan tries to find his place in it and fight for his newfound beliefs. It may or may not also involve the return of the Unkillable Demon King of the street art world, accompanied by some new blood artists of his own…

Right now, I’m afraid my to-write list is already full beyond capacity, so I probably won’t get around to writing any of these fics until 2025 earliest (maybe December actually), but we’ll see! I have admittedly been in a bit of a slump recently, and whenever that happens, I usually get back on track by digging up an idea that’s not on my list and just vibing with it. So there’s a chance one of these could be my next saving grace.

Thank you so much for your interest and support, and may all your objective smites be perfectly timed <3

[ladyravenjadethe2nd]

Spoilers for Part 5 of If Wishes were Kisses

Now we get Killua and we are having a heavy on the comfort Hurt/Comfort fic. Also a good bit of heart wrenching Romance in later chapters.

Poor Killua, this poor baby is going to have a gay panic, an 'Are we dating?' panic, 'Do best friends hold hands and watch sunsets together?' panic. He's gonna go through it.

I haven't written much for him because he is my favorite character and I'm pretty sure if I start I will get 20 chapters out for Part 5 while I'm still on Part 2.

My in general vibe though is this is going to be the sweetest fluffiest little found family thing ever. I'm going to have cute happy family moments with everyone.

Illumi's always going to be a bit weird, but I'm hoping I can get them okay with each other.

He will be pretty freaked out at first from being reborn, but he won't be their for 24 hours without being 'introduced' to Gon which will make everything better.

Luckily his parents are friends with Gon's parents and they all think that the only thing cuter then one baby is two babies!

I do think he will panic at first when he sees Illumi and it will be very obviously to him that Milluki is acting weird as fuck. Protective is certainly not a Zoldyck trait.

He'll be mostly bewildered, but no one is hurting him and he can see Gon often. Being a baby is embarrassing and he hates it, but outside of diaper changes and bottles it's not that bad.

He's very close in age to Alluka. I think he will be barely a year or maybe less then that when Momo gets pregnant with her.

Alluka's birth is going to be Killua's big test for his new family. If they are good to her he will accept them and if they aren't he will shun them and plan to leave with her as soon as he can.

Part six which has the prologue and epilogue will be mostly in Alluka's point of view and the reason that she gets that instead of a proper chapter starting from her birth is that Killua is going to be hyper focused on her every interaction with everyone as a toddler.

Alluka is a very interesting character and I figured out how to keep her trans without having anyone misgender her and how to handle Nanika.

You see Nanika is going to be a Nanika shaped Dark Shadow like quirk. Not everyone gets their parents quirks and who says that Nanika can't be born with Alluka? It's rare, but you can have quirks from birth.

Of course Tokoyami will be her godfather.

I'm not sure if I want a Doctor to misgender her and get eaten by Nanika, if I want Nanika to straight up be able to talk normally and tell them Alluka is a girl or if Nanika can only talk to Dark Shadow while she's a baby in secret Shadow language and Dark Shadow tells everyone, but either way super easy coming out.

Everyone uses the right pronouns for her from birth or gets eaten/squashed/deleted from the realm of the living. :)

I can see Momo already having researched the topic and pulling up a white board to explain in detail to the whole family what it means to be trans and making it very clear how Alluka will be addressed.

I think both her parents will be delighted to have a little girl, will treat Nanika as their second daughter after life advice from Dark Shadow and just be really great parents to them to both.

I'm not sure how blood thirsty I want Nanika to be, but I do want a scene where she righteously blinks someone out of existence maybe a villain and Momo and Shouto both treat this like something a firm scolding and a timeout will fix.

Now Killua knows that he can trust his new parents. I have a million ideas of him remembering past traumas and getting comfort from Momo and Shouto.

Killua gets a very powerful elemental quirk. Not sure if I just want to say a mutation to lighting or fire that moves so fast it's pretty much blue colored lighting. I'll need to research lighting. He gets it at the normal time of four years old.

Killua thinks superheroes are cool and as much as he hates the idea of his life being planned for him it's not as bad as being an assassin. These parents have been kind to not start his training yet and have encouraged him to have friends like Gon so he feels he owes them.

He goes to his father reluctantly, but willingly to start his hero training. He has the strongest quirk so of course it is his duty to be the heir.

Shouto doesn't handle this as badly as when Illumi tried it. We get a heartfelt scene of Shouto explaining his issues with his own father which would normally be way too much for a four old to understand, and telling Killua that his life is his own and if he wants to be a hero he would train him when he old enough to join a hero school, but not before.

Killua already cared about this family, but I think he fully lets go after that. Stops waiting for the other shoe to drop and for something horrible to happen. He finally gets to be taken care off and feel normal.

I think he will start trying to look after Kalluto more after that. He's born not too long after Alluka and as is cannon Killua had little interest in him until now, being far more concerned with Alluka.

He is selfishly happy that Gon doesn't have a quirk. Of course it doesn't mean they won't be heroes together. Nothing can stop Gon for a goal, but even if they are a hero due they won't be called in to world ending fights.

They can beat up goons that rob banks and help people find their lost cats and stuff like that. It will be something fun they can do together.

As much as he loves Alluka he shouldn't have had to be a parent to her. Having a family he can trust with her means he won't feel guilty having adventures with Gon instead of looking after her.

He and Gon do start training on their own way before Highschool. Hisoka might help. They might get a parent to agree to early training or get a different mentor. We will see.

I like the idea of Killua finding out that Gon could get his father's quirk and thinking that he took it. I could do a heart breaking scene of Killua begging Gon not to go fight. He would have to have enough self worth to be willing ask for something selfish and he would have to have enough faith in Gon to think it might work.

Of course Gon would tell him that he didn't take the quirk and that he will never leave Killua again. It would be a wonderful moment for a getting together kiss and might be a good ending for Killua's part.

I say 'I like the idea' and 'it would be' because I'm not 100% decided on how to end it yet.

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Finding the End

I’ll start this with a caveat: different writing advice works for different people. Most people know about the plotter vs. pantser split, but another useful division is methodological (you have a plan!) vs. intuitive (Plan? What plan?)

(My roommate and I have annoyed each other for years trying to trade writing advice. Turns out she’s an intuitive plotter while I’m a methodological pantser. Our ways of getting Story out of Brain and down into Words are completely different. Now we just toss “this is interesting reference material” at each other.)

If you saw methodological and thought neat and organized... hahaha no. For me a book in progress is an explosion in a reference library; accumulated books, papers, internet snippets, scribbled notes and of course the draft-in-progress. Some bits of which I’m usually loosely editing even as I’m writing other bits.

Instead, methodological means I have a more-or-less set strategy for how to write, what tools I need to keep the plotbunnies from whining (Bic Crystal pens fit my grip best), and specifically, what parts of the story I have to have figured out before I start writing the story, or the whole thing’s going to spin out dramatically and leave me in a fiery, bruised pile of a writer with Unfinished Fic.

...Yeah, that hurts.

So. What I need is first, a good idea of the setting. Second, a good grasp on the characters, both heroes and villains. Third, a beginning scene of Shiny. How do I kick this adventure off? Last, and critically important, I need an End Scene. Heroes vs. Bad Guys. What does the final clash look like?

This end scene doesn’t have to be exact. I even came up with a final scene for Colors and wrote most of it before realizing said End Scene actually belonged in a much later story; while a fight scene before it was the real Final Battle of the book.

(Also note that these are not foolproof. I have end scenes for Track of the Apocalypse and scene ideas for a follow-up, but writing ran headlong into traumatic RL events and it jammed. I want to finish it, but my brain just won’t until I get some more stability into my life. Bleeping inflation....)

Right now, as I hack my way through filling in holes in Colors, I’m trying to figure out what would be the best end scene for Druid vs. Zombies. I’ve got a dungeon maze, a demonic sword (I think), an angry necromancer, a lot of zombies, and a rag-tag party including the Druid who mostly aren’t really fighters.

They’re just the only ones the quarrytown has who can try.

I think part of what I’m stuck on is the tone of the story. The original inspiration was partly Scooby-Doo (“and I would have gotten away with it, too - if it weren’t for you peasants and that druid!”)

But, zombies; and not as friendly as those on Zombie Island. Plus Resident Evil 2 vibes; characters in sudden zpoc trying to survive. So fighting the necromancer has to be more serious.

The classic would be going down into the maze to face off with the necromancer before he can grab the Evil Artifact. But our heroes know they’re outmatched. Go into a dungeon maze filled with traps, monsters, and now necromancer-led zombies? That has bad idea written all over it.

So... I need to know if they think the necromancer has to come out the way he came in, or if they have reason to believe he can just teleport out when he grabs what he wants. Hmm...

[fangs-claws-paws]

Silken Cell

1, 2, 7, and 15

From this ask game

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

A couple different things inspired me to write this fic. Frustration at the lack of mpreg content regarding specific content I liked, such as armor/gear with an emphasis on helmets as at the time all I could find was supernatural or teen wolf mpreg fics, and I only read them because I would just replace the characters with characters I thought of while I was reading them out of sheer desperation. Also I was frustrated how the male character who got mpregged would suddenly act like a stereotype of pregnant women, and that bothered me because I felt/still feel that being pregnant doesn't automatically make you act like that. Also one fic I read really peeved me, in that the first chapter was the standard rape/non-con and I didn't mind, but the second chapter really wanted us to feel bad that the victim didn't want the attention of the rapist afterwards. It was just so odd and really rubbed me the wrong way that I started making up A Silken Cell in my head as my own bizarre train of thought regarding what I liked in a fic that focused on rape. One other factor that contributed to me posting it was my then boyfriend happened to share the same mpreg kink as me, so I'd end up sexting him random blurbs of either canon characters I wanted mpregged, or an extremely rough version of A Silken cell. He encouraged me to start writing A Silken Cell and helped proof-read some of the early chapters. Unfortunately most of those blurbs no longer exist both because he changed phone numbers and I changed phones so any texts have been lost, and the rest were posted in the text chat for Teamspeak that no longer exists.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Honestly the first scene I wrote was in fact chapter 1. Writing stuff out of order never really works for me tbh, it just gives my brain instant gratification and then it never wants to work on the rest of it. I have a couple fics stuck as disjointed pieces cuz of trying that method. Now technically the first scene that I ever made in my head was an alternate path for Baldarich that I didn't go with in the end. In that Baldarich was a Blood Angel instead of a Dark Angel, and while he was also killed by Ansovald instead of being for aborting his children it was because the Blood Angel kept having miscarriages. I didn't go with this both because Blood Angels have the Black Rage, which I feel is a recipe for disaster in the harem, and I liked a more resistant harem member to contrast with the submission of Caedmon and Azad.

7: Where did the title come from?

The title I came up with just based on what I felt described Caedmon's situation with enough brevity to sound interesting, he is trapped in what amounts to an extremely fancy prison cell. It was only a couple weeks after posting it and googling the title that I realized there was a song that went by the same name, and while it certainly fits the vibe of the fic, that's mostly coincidental

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Honestly one of the biggest things I've learned is my brain can hold onto the story for a shockingly long amount of time without ever touching it. As I recalled what I wanted to do after my 2-3 year hiatus as clearly as when I had just put it down. Which is extremely funny as - fun fact - there is no written outline or planning sheets for this fic, all the information is stored in my brain and nowhere else. So if I were to somehow lose my memory, there would be no information as to the direction I had planned the fic to go in. Might come back to bite me in the ass, but we'll see.