#this fic has been in wip hell for months please just take it

[lucky-clover-gazette]

domestic bisque

fluff | 3381 words | vidow cottage au

Vio and Shadow make soup, and there's no plot. They literally just have a cozy evening together. Good for them!

They sit together for a while, watching the snow fall, silent and content. The smell of simmering soup fills the den and Pinecone continues to purr like a motor.

Shadow tucks a strand of hair behind Vio’s ear. “Love you.”

Vio leans in—not for a kiss, but simply to meet Shadow’s forehead with his own. “Love you too.”  

read it on ao3 or under the cut, with author's notes:

Author's Note: The title is a soup pun. Appreciate it.

So funny story, this used to be a much longer and more melodramatic fic that I shelved all the way back in November of 2022. It’s been sitting incomplete since then, so I finally decided to take all the fluffy soup parts and play into that, while cutting out the angst. So if this feels a little awkward and disjointed, well… that’s because it is. But still, I think it’s very sweet, and I hope you enjoy :)

It’s perfect soup weather in the woods outside Castle Town.

Snowy, but not overly so, chilling the cottage just enough to justify use of the fireplace. Shadow busies himself in the kitchen, clearing the counter of Pinecone’s canned food and spare bags of tea, and begins to unpack freshly-purchased ingredients. He smiles at the sound of Vio’s footsteps as he enters from the den.

“Found it?” Shadow asks, taking a bunch of celery stalks over to the sink for washing.

“Yes,” Vio says. “I would appreciate it if we avoided getting anything on it.”

Shadow examines the leather-bound volume from afar, well-worn from at least a century of use. He’d make fun of Vio’s concern, but he also understands how important this historical volume is—it’s one of the previous Hero’s few remaining belongings, chock-full of handwritten insight from the man himself. Vio had begged Zelda to lend it to him, and she’d only handed it over after they both promised to return it in good condition. It was a warranted measure, honestly, since the majority of Shadow and Vio’s furniture was stolen from Hyrule Castle… and that’s not even mentioning their evil root beer stash in the cellar.

It had been Shadow’s idea to make the soup, after Vio offhandedly mentioned its inclusion in the Hero’s journal entry. Most of the ingredients are still common in modern Hyrule, except for the Reekfish—luckily, according to the Hero, the soup is better off without it. And with a name like ‘Reekfish,’ Shadow is inclined to believe him.

“Do you think Pinecone will get curious with all the ingredients laying out?” Vio asks, eyeing the massive pumpkin and wheel of cheese visually similar to the horns of Ordon goats.

Shadow glances into the den at their cat, a three-legged tortie watching the snow fall through a frosted window. “Pinecone,” he calls to her, watching her ear twitch in recognition, “are you going to make trouble while we cook?”

She doesn’t answer. Shadow shrugs.

“Did you know that the Hero could talk to cats?” Vio asks Shadow, resting his elbows on the counter.

“No,” Shadow says, “but that’s very cool.”

“Once we’re done cooking, I’d like to show you some of the passages,” Vio says, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Shadow smiles. “Of course I’m interested. Looking forward to it.”

“That’s… yeah, me too. Hey, can you make fun of me now?”

Shadow crosses the kitchen and plants a kiss on Vio’s forehead. “You’re cute.”

“That is specifically the opposite of what I requested. Also, you are cute too. Obviously.”

Shadow returns to the counter with a smile and grabs a knife from the wooden block. “I’m dicing the veggies and mincing the garlic, right?”

Referencing the recipe, Vio nods. “What can I do to help?”

Shadow withdraws another knife, this one serrated and twice as long. “Feel like butchering a pumpkin?”

─────────────────

They launch into their parallel tasks in contented silence, the only noise coming from Vio as he struggles to cut into the large Ordon pumpkin. Shadow slides the diced celery into a glass bowl and takes a break to assist Vio, who has switched from the kitchen knife to his Four Sword.

“Here,” Shadow says, “I’ll hold it steady while you cut it in half, right by the stem. Then you just have to scoop out the seeds with a spoon, slice it into pieces, and roast them in the oven so they soften. Once they’re done, you should be able to squish them into a puree with a fork.”

Vio narrows his eyes. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Vendor at the market talked my ear off about it. She was sweet.”

Shadow really had appreciated the Ordonian woman’s advice, as well as the fact that she’d treated him like a normal person. It’s been a little more than six months since Shadow’s reign of terror over Hyrule, and a lot of people in Castle Town still hold a grudge. Okay, maybe not a lot, but townspeople rarely go out of their way to engage in small talk.

“I’ll preheat the oven,” Shadow says as Vio begins to gut the pumpkin. He turns the dial and returns to his counter, making short work of the remaining ingredients.

“Pinecone, no!”

Shadow whips his head around as Vio begs their cat to get off the counter, his hands covered with orange pumpkin guts. “Shadow, can you please stop laughing and pick her up?”

Shadow retrieves Pinecone with a chuckle, kissing her forehead and returning her to the stool by the den window. She curls up and Shadow has the strong urge to sink his face into her soft fur.

“Pumpkin’s going into the oven,” Vio calls from the kitchen. “I’ll clean up the mess before we continue.”

“Sounds good,” Shadow says, giving Pinecone another peck (there is no limit to forehead kisses in this household). He consults the journal, placed far from the carnage, and commits their next steps to memory.

“We can start the soup while the pumpkin roasts,” he says to Vio, who furiously scrubs his hands in the sink. He has his hair up again, in that lame purple scrunchie, a few stray bangs falling into his face. Shadow feels the urge to tuck them behind his pointed ears, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

─────────────────

When Shadow and Vio first moved into the abandoned cottage, their friends had insisted on a small housewarming party. Some of their gifts are useful on a daily basis, such as Red’s hand-knitted blanket and Zelda’s fountain pens, while others are bound to a more specific purpose. A great example is a yet-to-be-used artisanal casserole dish from Green, which is shaped and painted to resemble a pumpkin.

Shadow removes the heavy vessel from a shelf and gently places it on the counter. “I wonder,” he says, “if somehow the Hero of Twilight’s spirit influenced Green to choose this gift. Since he apparently had a thing for pumpkin soup.”

Vio joins Shadow’s side, sizing up the dish. “Interestingly enough, he’s not the only one. Records indicate that several versions of the Hero have encountered pumpkin soup during their adventures.”

“You’re kidding.”

“The Hero of Winds grew up on Outset Island, where the locals made pumpkin soup that healed his injuries. Some sources even say his own grandmother created the recipe.”

“I see. And have there been any other heroic pumpkin soup encounters of note?”

“Yes,” Vio enthuses, “with the first reincarnation of Link, actually. He lived in the sky and flew on a huge bird. In order to save his version of Zelda, he had to deliver pumpkin soup to a whale inside a thunderhead.”

“Very normal,” Shadow remarks, one eyebrow raised.

Vio smirks. “About as normal as a magic sword turning the Hero into four distinct individuals, one of whom fell madly in love with the original Hero’s evil shadow.”

“You know that makes you sound like the weirdo in that situation, right?”

“Like you weren’t hitting on me from the start.”

─────────────────

Shadow busies himself with the soup, placing the casserole dish on the stovetop and grabbing a stick of butter from the fridge. He slices off two tablespoons and melts them against the warming vessel, then empties the glass bowls of prepped celery, carrots, and onions into the dish. They sizzle on contact.

“Wooden spoon, please,” he calls to Vio, who promptly places the instrument in his outstretched hand. He uses it to saute the veggies while Vio removes the sheet pan of softened pumpkin from the oven, pureeing it just as Shadow had described. Shadow tosses in the garlic as Vio begins to clean their prep dishes.

“Wanna pop open some vegetable broth?” Shadow asks once he hears the sink turn off. He receives no response and turns his head to see Vio kneeling by Pinecone in the den. Shadow opens the carton of broth on his own and pours it into the dish, taking care not to let it splash in his face.

“Soup has to simmer for ten minutes,” Shadow calls to Vio, bringing the Hero’s journal into the den. He plops down on the floor, because wherever Pinecone decides to be is more often than not where they end up. He nudges Vio and drops the book in his lap. “Show me something interesting.”

Vio gives Pinecone one last full-body pet and nods. “Very well. How much do you know about the Hero of Twilight?”

Shadow shrugs. “Nothing more than what you’ve told me.”

“And what have I told you, exactly?”

“He talked to cats, didn’t use the Four Sword, killed another version of Ganon but missed out on fun times with Vaati.”

Vio scoffs. “Yeah, well, he got Zant.”

“That’s a cool name. What was his deal?”

Vio begins to flip through pages, narrowing his eyes as he scans the text. “Ah-ha!” he exclaims, and it’s so unbelievably dorky that Shadow kind of wants to kiss him on the mouth. “He talks about Zant here,” Vio says, angling the page so Shadow can read.

A note on Zant, usurper king of the Twili tribe: For the majority of my journey, I believed him to be the greatest threat to Hyrule, the final enemy I would need to defeat. But Zant had only served as a proxy for Ganon, who allowed him passage through a dark mirror to wreak havoc on the world of the light.

Shadow makes a sour face. “Wonder what that’s like.”

“Keep reading,” Vio says with a small smile.

Imagine my surprise when Zant became frantic and unhinged in battle, the opposite of the imposing figure I had once believed him to be. Perhaps his initial stature had been an act, disguising the instability and insecurity within.

Stranger still, Zant somehow managed to linger despite a very graphic death. It’s almost as if his spirit couldn’t die, not truly, until he thwarted his former master. Princess Zelda and I defeated Ganondorf, fulfilling Hylia’s Triforce prophecy—but somehow, Zant struck the killing blow. He banished Ganon from the world of light by violently severing the connection between them.

“Huh,” Shadow remarks, his voice now proud. “Wonder what that’s like.”

─────────────────

Eventually, Vio appears to remember something important. “Has it been ten minutes, for the soup?”

“Just about,” Shadow says, getting to his feet. “Be right back.”

Shadow returns to the kitchen and adds the pumpkin puree, along with a dash of cinnamon, to the simmering mixture. The beige broth becomes a warm amber before his eyes, already starting to bubble with the new ingredients.

“That smells fantastic,” Vio says, peering over Shadow’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Shadow’s waist, and sandwiched between a simmering pumpkin soup and his favorite person in the world, Shadow feels truly blessed. And then he cringes, because they’re supposed to be creatures of darkness, so why would he default to such a disgustingly wholesome adjective as ‘blessed?’

“About fifteen more minutes,” Shadow says, and Vio hums. “You could have stayed in the den, you know.”

“Missed you. And I want to help clean, you’re doing all the hard work here.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that.”

They finish the remaining dishes together, Vio washing while Shadow dries and puts items away. The soup fills their tiny kitchen with the aroma of pumpkin and warm cinnamon spice.

Shadow returns to the stove, stirs the soup with a wooden spoon, and covers it again. “Let’s keep it simmering a little longer.”

Vio nods and leads Shadow back into the den. He retrieves the journal and plops down on the couch, where Pinecone seems to have been waiting for his arrival. She immediately curls up in his lap and Shadow isn’t jealous at all, definitely not, because that would be ridiculous and he is not ridiculous.

“What are you waiting for?” Vio asks, stroking Pinecone idly. “Get comfy.”

“Didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” Shadow quips, settling beside the pair and resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. He breathes in the familiar scent of lavender shampoo, and wonders if Vio has just the one purple scrunchie, or if he rotates identical purple scrunchies every few days…

“Looks like you’re thinking hard about something,” Vio observes, reaching an arm around Shadow’s waist.

“Nope, not me.”

─────────────────

“And that’s it,” Vio says, closing the journal. “For tonight, anyway. I think I’ve had just about enough.”

Shadow nods. “Sucks about the mirror, and what happened with Midna. They seemed to really get along. Do you think they ever saw each other again?”

“Probably not,” Vio admits. “Not everyone is willing to perform dark rituals to recover a loved one from a different realm.”

“Lame.”

─────────────────

They sit together for a while, watching the snow fall, silent and content. The smell of simmering soup fills the den, and Pinecone continues to purr like a motor.

Shadow tucks a strand of hair behind Vio’s ear. “Love you.”

Vio leans in—not for a kiss, but simply to meet Shadow’s forehead with his own. “Love you too.”  

And then Shadow pulls away.

“Soup,” he reminds Vio, standing up. “Bring the recipe, I think it’s cheese time.”

Vio is sleepy, beyond relaxed, and it’s adorable. “You’re cheese time.”

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“I have no idea why I said that.”

Shadow chuckles and returns to the kitchen, releasing steam when he removes the casserole dish lid. “Looks good,” he reports. “Now, tell me all about cheese time.”

Vio cringes. “Please shut up about cheese time.”

“No.”

“Actually,” Vio says as he scans the page, “it’s not even… time for cheese… yet.”

“Tease.”

─────────────────

“Do we have a blender?” Vio asks, already opening up kitchen cabinets. “Or a food processor?”

Shadow cocks his head. “Did they, back then?”

“That’s what he wrote. Oh, here!”

Vio removes their blender from the cabinet and places it onto the counter. Shadow shakes his head.

“Bad idea. Hot liquid will make the lid stick. Use the immersion blender instead.”

Vio narrows his eyes. “What is that?”

Shadow removes the handheld wand from a drawer and raises it in the air for emphasis. There are blades at the end, and when Shadow presses a button they come to life.

“Not all of us have swords,” Shadow quips as he plunges it into the pot of soup, turning it into a smooth orange bisque. Some of the mixture splashes onto his face, right by his mouth, and he allows himself a taste.

“Hylia,” he mutters, tossing the immersion blender into the sink. Shadow opens the fridge and retrieves their final ingredient, turning to Vio with a wolfish grin. “Cheese time.”

─────────────────

As the soup simmers over low heat, Shadow stirs in the soft cheese and melts a dusting of brown sugar into the bisque.

“You can do the salt and pepper,” Shadow tells Vio, grabbing him by the waist and positioning him in front of the stove.

Vio nods uncertainly as Shadow forces the shakers into his hands. “This much?” he asks, seasoning the soup with great hesitation.

“Looks good to me,” Shadow says, resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. “Smells good, too.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to try it.”

Shadow dislodges himself from his boyfriend and grabs two bowls and spoons from the cabinet. He brings them over and repositions Vio, reaching across the range for a ladle and beginning to serve the Hero of Twilight’s beloved pumpkin soup. He garnishes the two bowls with the remaining goat cheese and places the lid on the casserole dish—he’ll package up the rest later, maybe even deliver it to Green and Zelda as a thank-you.

“Couch or table?” Shadow asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Couch, please.”

─────────────────

It’s precarious with the soup bowls, but they manage to arrange themselves nicely on the couch. Pinecone has resumed watching the snow fall by the window, and for once they prefer that she keeps her distance. Vio and Shadow both sit upright as they dig in, and… wow. Shadow had sampled the soup before, but this? With the cheese and everything? It’s fantastic. 

“What do you think?” Shadow asks Vio, whose spoon currently lingers in his mouth. Vio nods intently with a decadent noise of approval.

“It’s perfect,” he says. “Legendary, even.”

“Glad to hear we did the recipe justice, from the mouth of the Hero himself. Well, a few reincarnations removed, but you know what I mean.”

Vio sighs. “I think he’d be happy. Seeing us, like this. I don’t know, maybe that’s just what I want to believe, but—”

“I think it’s a wonderful thing to believe,” Shadow says, placing his bowl down on the coffee table. Maybe his soup will get cold, but the idea of holding Vio in this moment is too tempting to pass up. 

Vio leans into Shadow’s arms and hums. “This is so nice. Thank you for getting the ingredients, and doing most of the work.”

Shadow grins and kisses Vio’s forehead (seriously, it never gets old). “How about you do the dishes and we’ll call it even.”

Vio rolls his eyes but nods. “I should have seen that coming. You’re so evil.”

“The evilest. What atrocity will I commit next?”

Vio’s gaze meets his, and the blonde puts down his soup. Shadow recognizes the expression immediately—slightly lowered eyelids, a mischievous grin. Internally, Shadow has taken to calling it Vio’s Throne Eyes. Because, y’know, reasons.

“I’d love to find out,” Vio nearly purrs, and Shadow pretends to be annoyed.

“You’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.”

Vio frowns, his eyes darting towards the kitchen. “You know what? You’re right. I think I’ll go do them now.”

He begins to move but Shadow’s grip only tightens. “Wait, don’t—”

Vio grins, and Shadow blushes. “You were saying?”

“You’re the worst,” Shadow chuckles, rubbing his hands over Vio’s back. In the absence of a soup bowl, Vio climbs onto his lap. Shadow kicks the coffee table slightly aside, displacing a bit of soup onto the wooden surface.

On his way to a forehead bonk (or kiss, dealer’s choice), Vio pauses, glancing over Shadow’s shoulder. “Hold on.”

“Um. Are you still joking, or…?”

Vio shakes his head. “Garlic and onion, in the soup. Pinecone could get sick.”

Shadow desperately scans their surroundings for anything that could keep them where they are. They could put the journal over one of the bowls, kind of like an impromptu lid… but if it got damaged Zelda would probably banish them, especially if said damage occurred while they were making out.

Vio sighs and removes himself from Shadow’s lap, picking up both bowls from the table with an apologetic smile. “Be right back,” he says, and Shadow does not move a muscle.

“Make sure the pot’s covered, too,” Shadow calls out, and Vio cradles both bowls with one arm to raise a thumbs-up.

In his partner’s absence, Shadow turns to Pinecone, still peacefully watching the snow fall. “You have no idea what we do for you,” he mutters fondly. The cat’s ear twitches.

─────────────────

From the kitchen, Shadow hears running water and the clink of dishware. Despite his protests, Vio is still doing what Shadow had asked.

Shadow considers picking up the journal in Vio’s absence, but decides against it. He would never say this out loud, but he doesn’t really care about the Hero of Twilight’s life. He understands why Vio does, though, and supports that interest wholeheartedly—he’s been told about Vio’s long nights in Hyrule Castle, researching resurrection rituals with only the company of the Hero’s writings.

And maybe, wherever he is now, the Hero has witnessed Vio repair the mirror and recall Shadow from his dark realm. Shadow knows their situations aren’t identical—namely, Midna chose to separate herself from the Hero due to royal responsibility (boring), while Shadow had broken his own mirror in a self-sacrificial middle-finger to the concept of darkness itself (badass).

But, still. The parallels are there. And Shadow doesn’t see the harm in Vio indulging them, as long as it makes him happy. But Shadow’s not here to dwell on the past—he’s here to eat pumpkin soup, and to kiss his boyfriend.

And you know what?

He is all out of pumpkin soup.

Author's Note: Someday I will actually let them make out in a fic. I’ve written it before, but it always comes out quippy and awkward and painfully self-aware. Which, hey—at least I’m consistent. I am considering an optional side-scene to an upcoming fic where they actually do, in fact, get to make out on the page, so please let me know if that’s something you actually want to see. 

Thanks for reading, and if you’re going to play Tears of the Kingdom in a few days like me, have so much fun!

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [M, 27k, Harry/Louis]

Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you.

Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Sometimes it's both.

In Louis' and Harry's case, it's both.

＊ Pathema Proteleia by @persephoneflouwers [M, 53k, Louis/Harry]

A few years ago, Omega Prince Harry left his husband and mate Alpha Louis without any apparent reason. When enemies of the Royalty make an attempt on his life and threaten to hurt Omegas, Louis has to ask the Prince for help.

Or The Greek Tragedy AU (but with the happiest ending).

＊ I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It) by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 345 words, Harry/Louis]

"I just- Everyone was there and- and they were all happy and in love and I just- I needed to get out of there, Lou." Harry sniffled, wrapping his coat closer to himself as he trudged down the street. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they all get to be happy and in love and have their partners with them when I can't be with you."

OR The one where Harry misses Louis

＊ A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [M, 11k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

＊ tell me what the hell we're feeling (if you don't do feelings) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is getting over a breakup. Louis doesn't date. Neither of them is interested in a relationship -- but they are interested in each other's bodies. It takes a global pandemic for them to admit that maybe there's more than just lust between them.

＊ April Drools! by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 1k, Louis centric ot 5 pairings]

Louis offers a particularly slobbery blow job to his clients who'd rather not be made a fool of on April 1st. Of course, he's got an option for those who don't mind being a little humiliated as well. Part 12 of Glory Hole-idays

＊ I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence [NR, 74k, Louis/Harry]

“Louis,” Harry breathed happily. His smile widened as he realized he’d finally found him, and he was stood before his soulstar. This was the closest they’d been in 31 Earth years, which had felt extraordinarily long for Harry, even in his star form. He could hardly withhold his happiness at seeing him again.

“Erm, yeah,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts with his brows furrowing and looking clearly suspicious. “And you are?”

Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

This leaves Harry to break the rules and instead of waiting for Louis to call him and join him on Earth, he crashes down on his own. Without Louis there to guide him and help him learn how to adjust to having a human body and everything associated with that, Harry has no other choice but to do the best he can.

As Harry tries to correct what has gone wrong, he finds that friendship can be a light even in the darkest night, and through those bonds even separated soulstars can find their fated path once more.

＊ Love Like This by @reminiscingintherain [E, 32k, Zayn/Louis/Liam]

A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. With appearances from Lottie as Louis' helpful sister, Harry as his best friend, and Niall as Liam's golf instructor (or gardener? or something else?).

＊ Ghost of a Name by @signofcomfort [G, 35k, Louis/Harry]

Louis leaves the band in the middle of the tour and drops off the face of the earth. Five years later, they might have a chance to meet him. Harry can finally have some answers and tell the truth for the first time.

- Podfics -

＊ Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence read by @podfic-pals [NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis]

Funny how Louis could sum up everything he’d had with Zayn so easily.

Ex. One syllable, two letters. Fourteen years of friendship and marriage and everything else they had been to each other, put together and explained to anyone who asked with that one tiny word. Ex. Ex-Best Friend. Ex-Lover. Ex-Husband. Ex-everything, really. Zayn had truly become his everything, and Louis still ached in the spaces within that used to be filled by him, even all these years later.

Sometimes love was a bitch.

Or the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

[mi6-cafe]

It's Next Chapter November!

Our challenge is quite simple this month: write your next chapter! Finish that artwork that's been stuck in WIP hell! Whatever it is, let us be your inspiration to make progress on your current project. For bonus accountability, share your progress with the community on WIP Wednesdays, regardless of what fandom it is for.

Tag us in your posted Bond-related creations so we can reblog them. As always, all ships, gen fic, and genres are welcome! You can also add anything to our AO3 collection.

Festive Fanwork Fiesta is on the horizon

Signs ups for this year’s Festive Fanwork Fiesta will run November 16-30. During this fiesta, we send you three prompts and give you a week to create something. This will run for three weeks and it's your chance to give someone in the fandom a little gift as you fill a prompt which has been sitting on the prompt sheet for a while. For more information see here. Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

Saturday Cafe: Nov 2, 16, and 30

Come join us in the fandom Slack as we write, draw, sprint, plot, brainstorm, cheerlead, and generally have a good time trying to get things done together. If you’d like an invite to the Slack, go ahead and message @castillon02 or @spiritofcamelot!

Bond Book Readalong, Saturdays at 9pm ET

The longfic readalong crew is taking a break from fanfic to go back to the source material. We will be taking a couple months to read Diamonds are Forever. This is a proper detective novel full of diamond smuggling, Felix Leiter, and a really over-the-top bad guy. Not to mention our latest Bond girl: Tiffany Case.

We will provide a digital version of the text for you to follow along, but we also recommend seeing if your local library has a copy. We’d love to see you there. You are welcome to listen if you don’t or can’t read aloud!    

When: Saturdays at 9pm eastern/6pm Pacific.

Where: We’ll be reading on discord in the readalongs channel. (Invite to discord here)

Please join us to read or just hang out.

Other social events

We have loved all the movies, game nights, even TTRPGs that happened during Fest this year and we hope to see more of them throughout the year!

We will happily promote other watch party events of spy movies or whatever else you would like to organize.

Weekly events:

WIP Wednesday: You can post an excerpt of your WIP on our post or make your own post and mention the @mi6-cafe. Either way it’s a fun way to show people what you’re working on, Bond fandom or otherwise.

Weekly Bond movies: Hosted by womble every Sunday at 8am Pacific time, join us in Discord to watch one of the Bond movies. Keep an eye on the watch party calendar linked below for updates.

Want to host your own event in the Discord or elsewhere? Let us know about it so we can add it to the calendars!

Calendars

Watch Party Calendar MI6 Cafe Calendar   If you need help adding these calendars to your personal one, check out this post.

[dreambigdreamz]

Inside the brain of a writer

(me talking to myself)

the mental process of writing a smut fic

the usual warnings ofc proceed with caution.

wheee i’ve been reading some ahem hotd stuff ahem and i think i can pull off my very own as well 🌚🌚🌚

yass eomer and lothiriel’s wedding nighttt

actually no i’d die writing

for many reasons

julie write a sample for me please

should i just ai generate this

oh loth why on earth would you say that

quick, make her drown another flagon of wine to avoid the embarrassment 

BAHAHAHA i’m 6k word count and not yet halfway guysss

NO BROTHER YOU CAN’T READ THIS

because lothiriel is undressing eomer 🫢

*hysterical giggles as the world dissipates internally*

what on earth am i saying to a 11-year-old

shit he’s taking up the discussion

he says eomer should be allowed to undress himself to show ‘manly’ independence

shut the f up kid you don’t know anything about the romance of unbuttoning and revealing the man’s body

“stahp ahaha i can’t imagine it i’d DIE”

*dies for three months before guilty sense kicks back your arse to continue working on the wip*

drag myself through the shit like it’s no big deal

eomer without armour 💗💗💗

eomer without shirt 👀🥹🫢🌚🤡

should i or should i not put a full description of his… 

nope 

KEEP IT POETIC NOT GRAPHIC

will there be a blowjob

but i won’t know how to describe how it tastes so no

functioning on the last single braincell

once read a headcanon saying eomer will give you no less than 3 o’s and i stand by that

is ‘reverberate’ smth to do with vibrations or vertebrates

his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff HIS VOICE—

what does ‘convulse’ mean

could i maybe find a use for it to be included in the writing, even though i don’t know what it means?

i mean, i’ve seen it written but never bothered searching up 

gets up in the middle of the night to search up thesaurus

“TREPIDATION” IS SUCH A NICE WORD inCLudE iT iN By aLL meAns

….if only i gave half the effort for my academics…..

if he gives her oral, remember to get him to wipe off his mouth before he kisses her again because

you don’t know what it tastes like 

+ somewhat disgusting and shameful (ahh little purist me)

“did you finish your smut fic lol”

“haha nearly! was up till one am last night writing it” (i normally sleep at 8 pm)

“he’s penetrating her now ehehe”

*deletes last message*

keep your purist virgin opinions out of this and Let Them Have Fun!!!!

how long does it take a candle to burn out

“would you like to read what i have gotten so far 👉👈”

no lothiriel would never think the act “sickening” KEEP YOURSELF OUT OF THIS

YES YES YES KEEP THE CLASSICAL ROMANCE ALIVE YOU ARE SUCH A POETIC WRITER DID ANYBODY TELL YOU HAHA 😇 

but also the tension, don’t undo the tension all at once

DONT LET THEM FALL IN LOVE OVER ONE NIGHT WHAT SOAKING IDIOT ARE YOU

it takes time, it has to take time 

so no

make it an awkward messy ordeal

you are a most horrifying author, you deserve to go to hell three times over WHAT WAS THAT FOR

i know

how do i describe what his hands are doing

like one is doing smth while the other is another—

or keep it simple?

how big and strong he is x300 sentences

he’s gotta have big brown eyes / be able to satisfy / he’s gotta be big and strong / enough to turn me onnnnnn (the angelic choir version please)

his eyes turning into dark orbs 👀 a glint of dangerous light ahahahahahahahahah 

*descends into madness*

god save my soul 

no no Snow you got it wrong bby

there are no whores and sluts here

be horny without guilty

you might actually make some money out of writing this one day

big ambitions >>>

in the meantime enjoy yourself 

but seriously dude

wouldn’t he crush her bones if he collapsed on top of her

REWRITE EVERYTHING

first go and scroll through tumblr again

and spiral down into the sinful one-shots and take inspo from the masters

BUT THE AGONYYYYY (cuz u barely crawl out alive after these little visits onto that side of tumblr)

or shld i just post it and pretend nothing’s the matter and let it be and delete this entire post on making a fuss out of as tiny a thing as writing smut

fuck it i’ll go solve some mathematics

p.s. make eomer considerate at all times

p.p.s. you need to seriously decide between making lothiriel either an innocent angel or a coldhearted bitch MAKE UP YOUR MIND 

because i feel for the poor guy if she keeps acting hot n cold like this 

woe is me, the writer

i declare nobody suffers it as i do

but what if there was a toad in the bed as a prank from amrothos

[mehoymalloy]

I am thinking about the Imotohan strap on fic A LOT like my mind is just going over the snippet you gave us over and over, I'm obsessed and omg your writing is too good

I've been so focused on the Judicator AU that I haven't touched any of my other WIPs and likely won't for a couple more months... But here! Have links to the one snippet I've posted that you for sure know of, and one ask prompt that has absolutely been absorbed into the (oh god it's 13k) draft. Also, here! Beneath the cut are two new, very rough, and indulgent as hell snippets to hold ya over; one from the beginning and one from the end!

Otohan gets cocky.

Imogen gets cocky (and somft).

How it started:

"I should've done this then," Otohan growls in her ear. "Bent you over and fucked you until you screamed loud enough for your friends to hear where they wait just outside."

And Imogen nods. Of course she nods, because this is just a dream, and Otohan loves it when she says yes, when she can't deny them and doesn't even attempt to. Whether Imogen freely admits it with a slip of the tongue or Otohan has to claw it out of her little by little.

"Out loud, Imogen."

And when she says yes, Otohan's heart nearly skips a beat. They normally hate dreams like this. They're never good enough. They never do Imogen justice. They're always just a little off. But Otohan has heard Imogen produce a handful of sounds—their name, the word yes, a broken cry—enough for their desperate imagination to reproduce it just right. For it to be so close to perfect that Otohan can forget, that they can pretend.

It makes it easier to let themself believe then, that it could almost be real, when the scene shifts and Otohan finds themself surrounded by people they've killed and now know the names of, with Imogen squirming in their lap but making no attempt to free herself. Her thighs tremble as Otohan pushes their hands up beneath her skirt, and her stomach shudders with gasping breath as Otohan unfastens the button of her shorts.

"Otohan," Imogen murmurs aloud, heedless of their shadowy surroundings, the faces of her friends frozen in time—none of them looking but nevertheless there.

Otohan hums in question as they stroke their fingers through her small clothes, smirking slightly when Imogen leans her head back against their shoulder.

"Please," Imogen gasps.

Otohan frowns—that breaks the illusion slightly, Imogen would never say please.

"What do you need?" Otohan asks. The question is shaped with purpose, pressed against Imogen's neck so that Otohan's own mind can offer up a phrase they've heard before, one that cuts deeper than Otohan would ever admit. They open the wound now because it at least makes this all feel just a little more real.

"I don't need you," Imogen hisses against their ear.

Otohan's smirk is bittersweet as they { slip } their fingers beneath Imogen's small clothes to press against warm, wet skin. "So you insist," Otohan says, pressing in and curling one arm around Imogen's waist to keep her close as she automatically arches.

How it's going:

Imogen is done with patience. On the next thrust, she rolls her hips back to meet them, takes over half the length and is already gearing up to do so again when Otohan grabs her hip, fingers digging in to hold her still, flexing when Imogen whines.

Otohan keeps their hips back as they lean over Imogen, planting their hand beside her own on the bed as they whisper in her ear. "I said, patience."

Imogen groans but hangs her head as she stills, waits for Otohan to set the pace, careful to follow it lest they stop again. Still too slow, too soft. But this time, that softness doesn't make her uncomfortable, it just drives her wild as she fights her own desire to make Otohan go faster.

"Make me?" Otohan grunts with clear amusement before abruptly snapping their hips forward, thrusting a little harder. Imogen groans softly, hips twitching with the effort not to move. "Why don't you ask me?"

Imogen lets her knees slip farther apart, making it all the easier for Otohan to thrust deeper, but her silent request isn't enough.

"Ask me, Imogen." The words are hot against her skin, a cool caress to her mind.

"Otohan…" Imogen moans, arms shaking as she lowers herself to her forearms, { racked by } the jolt of arousal that shoots through Otohan at the sight of her, the sudden urge they have to sink in deep.

{ "Mm-hm," } Imogen moans a vague affirmative, tilts her hips higher, inviting them to follow through with the rogue desire, gasping when Otohan almost does, hips twitching as they hold themself back.

Imogen balances her weight onto one arm, reaching back with the left to grab the back of Otohan's thigh, fingers digging in as she tugs them forward, manages to pull them { the scantest inch } further inside her.

Otohan grunts at the touch, abruptly slides their hand from Imogen's hip up her back, presses hard between her shoulder blades until her arm buckles, chest pressing down into the bed, cheek turning to slide against silk sheets as she releases a strained gasp.

"You stubborn–"

"Please, Otohan," Imogen gasps. Both hands move to tangle hard in the sheets, though she doesn't push herself back up. She arches her back further still. 

Otohan's breath is trapped in their chest, their ears are ringing, that single word echoing in their mind. Their voice is far too strained when they say { "I didn't say 'beg.' I said, ask, Imogen." }

Imogen doesn't hesitate. "Please, Otohan, will you please– just…" Imogen trails off, and Otohan feels her get stuck, can't find the right words. 'Fuck me' isn't right but neither is 'make love to me' and she reels around those two phrases as they tangle on her tongue until all that comes out is "Fuck, Otohan, will you please stop teasing me?" Exasperation and desperation { sound so pretty on her. } And she did ask.

[writer-or-whatever]

The body swap WIP! I love that trope🤭

It's a good fucking trope! Although currently that fic sort of exists just as a bulleted list type outline, not any concrete scenes yet (despite the fact that it has been nebulously floating around in my brain for like a year). Anyway, please enjoy the concept:

AU where soulmates swap bodies for 24 hours. This happens when one of them needs the other most instead of some arbitrary age. Peter, of course, is alone in NYC post-nwh and after Ned and MJ go away to college. 

The bodyswap happens on a completely mundane Tuesday. Peter hasn’t even had any kind of big spiderman fight, and MJ isn’t in any kind of trouble beyond the six courses she’s taking this semester (it’s slightly too many, or so Ned keeps saying, but she needs to keep herself busy to keep her mind off the gaping hole she feels in her life but can’t really get her head around) 

When they swap, Peter does his best not to panic. He goes through his day, doing his best to channel his inner MJ (which, shouldn’t be too hard. He is in her body) and not clue anyone in. He finds her class schedule, goes, takes notes, and lays low so she doesn’t fall behind. He makes it almost all the way through the day before Ned finally catches up to him and almost immediately clocks that he is, in fact, not MJ. Cue the great grilling for information.

Ned is so excited for MJ, for both of them honestly—even though he doesn’t know Peter—and Peter feels so so bad for clamming up and skirting around so many of his questions, giving just the most perfunctory answers and trying not to break down at having his best friend’s enthusiasm aimed at him again. Ned assumes that MJ is the one who needs her soulmate, he knows about her unease and the feeling that she’s missing something big—knows about her lists and drawings of a boy they don’t know (but that looks so familiar somehow) and the feeling of loss that she tries to play off every time he asks. 

Peter feels like he’s been punched in the solar plexus for the entire conversation. He had no idea that MJ was feeling like this. He hadn’t realized that everyone that forgot him had a Peter Parker sized hole in their lives. He didn’t realize it was possible for anyone to miss him so much, especially when they never even knew he was missing. Peter gets so worked up about this that he actually vomits. Ned is so so worried, but before Peter can really say anything one way or another, he’s back in his own body. 

Meanwhile MJ is having quite the Tuesday. She wakes up in this sad tiny cramped apartment back in New York. It takes her approximately five minutes to come across the spidey suit, which is draped over the shower curtain rod drying. It takes her even less time to find the picture of her, Ned, and the boy whose face she is currently wearing. 

She gets that same sick feeling in her gut and buzzing in her head that she’s had for months, every time she tries to figure out what the hell is missing. She still doesn’t know all the details, or any of them really, but the weird holes in her life and in her and Ned’s friendship seem to be adding up to the shape of this boy—of fucking spiderman apparently (and why does that information give her a bit of smug satisfaction? Not that her soulmate is a superhero but rather the fact that she’s figured out that this boy is spiderman). 

She digs around his entire tiny one-room apartment and lays out everything she finds and deems another important piece of the puzzle. She finds a few more photos of them, a lego star wars figure (notably one of the ones that Ned has complained he’s missing from one of his sets), and then the fucking note. The one he wrote to practice telling them who is he is. The one where he tells them all about who he is (Peter Parker), and who he was to her and Ned. Upon reading this, she has a vague memory of this guy walking into the diner she used to work at and giving her his whole name with his order of a single small black coffee before he left. 

Suddenly she is so so angry. It comes from somewhere deep inside her, deeper than the well of the strange sadness she’s been dealing with for months. She doesn’t remember knowing Peter, but somewhere deep inside her she remembers being devasted by something he’s done. 

It’s almost midnight, so she doesn’t have time to do much other than leave him a short note that she leaves on top of all of the other things she’s dug out over the course of the day. It just says ‘You owe me an explanation, Peter’ and her phone number. 

This is, of course, a bad things happen bingo prompt fill so I'm leaving the ending a bit open. So yeah. That's the bodyswap au WIP. Thanks for asking 🥰

[dangerous-disposition]

Gerry's WIP Wedneseekend!

This was hugely helpful for me last week in just getting Words Down for the strap!verse which has now become an actual fic rather than a series of smutty one-shots oops so now I'm gonna do this to focus on my fics for Lex's Summer Challenge!

DISCLAIMER: I am only calling it WIP Wedneseekend because it stresses me out to "limit" myself to one day and I think it's fun!! Please do not feel like you also have to do a whole thing too if you're tagged or see this.

The Rules

I post the two prompts I claimed as a poll

Y'all vote in the poll and send me asks requesting a snippet of the fic of your choice

For every vote a fic receives, I will commit to writing 100 words on that fic. For every ask I receive, I will commit to writing an additional 100 words. (So if one gets 10 votes, and 5 asks, that's 1500 words)

At the end of the weekend, I will have completed fics to prepare for posting by the end of the month!

I will post a snippet of what I wrote and tag everyone who requested a snippet!

The Snippet - "Can I braid your hair?"

“Can I braid your hair?” Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around Independence Day, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted. He almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted. It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them. It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes, usually watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would just do that, make like they would leave completely. “We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath. “You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation. The air in the Beemer would change the moment that question fell from Eddie’s lips, the way Steve’s arms flexed as he squeezed the steering wheel captivating. Most of the time, Eddie doesn’t hear an answer from Steve, other times he hears a quiet but teasing, “Of course, Eds.”

The (no pressure) Tags

These are mostly just so people can vote if they want ;p

@scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @stobinesque @inairbinad @legitcookie @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes @pizzaqueen @starryeyedjanai @starrystevie @scoops-stevie @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @xenon-demon

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - April 2023

hello there again :] dont forget to give all these amazing people a kudos and heartwarming comment !

also !!!! very pleased by the slight increase in fem!dnf fics this month .... i know there was a fem!dnf week going on for artists but if anyone would like then i could hold one for writers too .... tell me your thoughts !!!!

— apricity by fifishy (teen | comp. | 3k)

5 times George loves his best friend, and 1 time it's reciprocated.

— midpoints by nervouswaltz (teen | comp. | 3k)

George didn't so much fall in love with Dream more than he tripped, stumbled, and landed on the ground after a long slide down a hill. Falling in love with George, Dream thinks, was like tripping over the edge of the Grand Canyon and hitting the ground with a splat.

— afterglow by twostorms (teen | comp. | 16k)

Dream, George, and the next chapter of their lives.

— crystal clear by womanhunt (mature | comp. | 3k)

Dream comes home from Los Angeles.

— need you closer by 21questions (mature | comp. | 15k)

Dream and George are famous, and with that, stuck keeping their relationship secret. Their big reveal doesn't quite go as planned.

— sweetness (heart's content) by heartinhands (expl. | comp. | 3k)

Dream is incredibly weak for her girlfriend in an oversized hoodie. And her girlfriend's tits. Her girlfriend's everything really. Georgie wants her just as much though.

— soft by alisonsomething (teen | comp. | 1k)

George finally edits a video. After working on it all day, he asks Dream for a hand massage as his reward.

— craving your soft touch by Anonymous (expl. | comp. | 2k)

"Take a picture," Georgie says dryly, "will last longer. Or better, do something."

— Separate Poles Of Gravity by ivegivenuponyou (expl. | comp. | 6k)

He wonders at one point, with his hand around his cock, when it starts to count as an addiction, if you can even get addicted to masturbating, and then he thinks of Dream bending him over the weight bench and cums across the shower floor.

— you are the future (and the future looks good) by deathlytireddan (gen | comp. | 2k)

Patches' pov of her life with Dream.

— love me fully by next spring by brokenlikeastitch (teen | wip | 50k+)

George has never been one for blind optimism. His world has always existed in shades of grey. Shit happens sometimes and you put your head down and fucking deal with it. This time, though, this time he’s hopeful.

— beamish by findingahome (teen | comp. | 3k)

stargazing in a McDonald's parking lot.

— bury ourselves (reach for the sun) by wooowriter (gen | comp. | 8k)

In London, in a boring bedroom with boring walls, George realizes he loves Dream for the first time. Three years later, in LA, he tells him.

— Vis-à-Vis by Scoops (teen | comp. | 21k)

While they’re staying in Los Angeles, Dream’s Uber gets into an accident. Secrets are revealed, a road trip gets underway, and George finds out that maybe he likes taking care of people sometimes. Well, if that person is Dream, at least.

— somethin' stupid (like i love you) by snakeinaboyband (teen | comp. | 19k)

spending Christmas with Dream's family forces them both to struggle with the dynamic they'd settled into when George arrived in Florida. Maybe it's time they stopped pretending their friendship is normal.

— hands, knees, please by demonstars (expl. | comp. | 2k)

“I haven’t even touched you,” George is delighted. “You say you’re not obsessed with me, but you literally are. Look at you.”

— There Might Be by BirbWatcher, jestbee (teen | comp. | 6k)

George implies there's some truth to DNF on a live broadcast, all hell breaks loose

— living our life thru the stars by charoo (teen | comp. | 12k)

prince george makes friends with two boys that teach him how to have fun and be himself– happiness, pain, apologizies, laughter, and love follow.

— Give and Take by copperfic (expl. | comp. | 4k)

George laughs, glancing down. “They were with my stuff and I didn’t feel like digging through the laundry for another pair. He’s so short. Like can you believe how short these are?” “Yeah,” he manages weakly. “Crazy.”

— your house looks like it's heaven by preytall (expl. | comp. | 2k)

"It's the truth, though. You're a slut, George."

— Fool Me Once by VicIsWriting (teen | comp. | 2k)

April Fools day is the perfect time to ask your best friend out, right?

— you open like a flower by tippysleeps (expl. | comp. | 5k)

Dream takes off her shirt and George feels her brain white out. To see Dream in this context, all coy and expectant, with freckles and acne scars on her shoulders, makes her feel like the first person to discover desire.

remember that you're always free to send in any fics you'd like to see on the next roundup and i'll make sure to include it :]

[for-a-longlongtime]

Yay we made it through 2023!

The end of Dec always feels hard to me; generally, I just want it to be over with so I can start with a new year. But I do want to take a moment to acknowledge the good things this year brought me.

When starting 2023, I'd felt creatively dead and emotionally empty for a good 3 years (lot of bad stuff happened). I was surprised when this silly Tiktok meme of a guy in a car with Nic Cage kept popping up and making me smile. My wife told me 'Hey, you should watch that movie, it's fun and that actor is great'. After a deep dive into Pedro's filmography (Joel really sealed the deal for me, my god) and getting sucked into this fandom with Met Gala, I eventually ended up here on Tumblr. And damn, has it been a wild ride, these past five months.

I'm so grateful for all the people I've gotten to know here, friendships that developed, the absurd amount of fic I've read, but perhaps most of all how a combination of those three things led me to write 'for fun' again for the first time in many years. Academia, medical leave, and life shit basically had stomped that completely out of my system - not to mention wrecked any confidence I had about my skills and most of my self esteem. So goddamn, it sure as hell was a surprise to suddenly find myself with all these fic ideas and then actually following through with them, thanks to everybody's support!

Over the past months, I posted Pt 1 of 'Nothing That I Didn't Know' (Frankie x Santi x reader) and I'm currently working on pt 2, which hopefully will be ready some time in the next week. I also put up snippets of a Rockford/Peña WIP that ended up becoming a much bigger storyline than I expected, and I'm really excited to start putting out proper chapters in probably Feb/March!

It's the first time that I have a group of friends (who are also writers) around me who have been so encouraging, who help me brainstorm and prod at new ideas, review my writing and give me advice, and overall just make this whole process of creation something that is fun and exciting. Especially @legendary-pink-dot, @sin-djarin, @imalrightllama, @magpiepills and @morallyinept! I can't even express in words how much your friendship and support means to me, not to mention how you're constantly helping me to become better at writing down what I want to convey - either directly through your advice, or leading by example with your own work. 💜

But even beyond the people named above, there are SO many of you for whose friendship I'm so grateful, or who I simply am so excited about to be mutuals with, or whose writing has just affected me in so many ways! I'm always worried about leaving out people by accident when I start tagging, so please, if you read this: I am grateful for knowing you and hanging out here with you here (or on Discord)! MWAH.

[ragnarokhound]

🖊️& 🏅for the ask game? 💞

:D 💕I've been in a bit of a slump this month haha, so it was nice to reflect on something positive about my writing ^^;

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).:

I'm really proud of how the structure for my AOB fic has come together! Once I finally write the dang scenes, I think it's going to be pretty good even if it wasn't supposed to be something I thought this hard about lmao OTL i am consistently cursed with think too hard disease :')

I'm also really pleased with a scene that wrote just yesterday, I think it'll fit into the werewolf fic that i've been super blocked on and has injected some new life into my ideas for that fic - and I'm really happy to get literally any traction on that :'D

🖊️ post a snippet from a current WIP:

From the AOB fic that I sWEaR i'LL fiNiSH:

“Tim, you two have a movie night— a date night— that no one else is invited to.”

“Everyone else talks too much,” Tim starts to explain, before he realizes what he's saying. “But that’s beside the— it’s not a date night we just hang out after patrol sometimes. I don’t even like TV.”

Dick makes an incoherent sound, a distinctly alpha growl and a whine that puts Tim’s hackles up. He rubs his hand over his mouth, clearly thinking. His eyes snap back to Tim’s and he has to resist the urge to flinch.

Dick maintains eye contact with him as he starts stripping off his suit jacket. He aggressively shoves it at Tim, ignoring his protests and manhandling it around his shoulders when he doesn't immediately take the hint. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim hisses as Dick scents him, roughly scrubbing his wrist on Tim's cheeks, leaving a strong residue of playful-exasperated-I win. Dick has always been casual about scenting, but this is a little much, even for him.

"Don't believe me? Watch. When he comes back, he's gonna find any excuse to get you out of my clothes and into his."

This is some prime alpha bullshit that Tim did not sign up for tonight. He sputters, and can feel his cheeks getting red and blotchy. "Wh— Dick!"

"And he'll try to clean your face."

"That's dumb. You're dumb."

"I'll bet you my share of Alfred's baklava."

"Bet," Tim snarls, though he's suddenly apprehensive. Alfred's baklava is practically sacred.

But he can admit, the idea of testing Jason's reaction has his curiosity piqued.

Damn. Dick knows him too well.

[goddesspharo]

For the Fanfiction Writing Asks: 35, 36, 40, 46, 56, and 75. A lot, but you’re a fave and I’m so curious!

[fic writing asks!]

Thanks for asking!

35. What's your favorite fic you've posted?

Definitely can't fake what you can't break up with, which I will finish soon. (I think I'm so slow about writing-not writing the last chapter because there's a part of me that doesn't want it to end because it has been so much fun to write! It's been a ton of fun to take a very trope-y soapy concept (drunk married in Vegas, continued marriage For Reasons) and spin it out into all the things. It's also ridiculously long so this year when NaNoWriMo rolls around and I say that I can't do it because I can't possibly meet that type of word count in a month, it'll be a bold-faced lie.

36. What fic are you proudest of?

Probably not every conversation is a new grenade, a post-The Batman fic that was, up until then, the longest fic I'd ever written at like 16k (I wish I could keep things that short these days!) after like a five year gap of not writing any fic. There would be a point during the writing process in the past when I'd just get tired of writing a thing and finish it while leaving a bunch of things I wanted to incorporate on the cutting room floor, but I really saw this one through. I'd only watched The Batman once (maybe twice?) before sitting down to write this - it was pretty early into the theatrical release so WB hadn't kicked it onto Max yet - so I'm particularly pleased with how on point the voices were. I also love nearly every iteration of Bruce/Selina and therefore don't write them as much (it's the old Austenian "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more") because I cannot be objective about how they should just be together, why won't you just let them be together, DC so probably the biggest accomplishment of all is that I even wrote this. It was also just a blast to do and gave me an excuse to bust out the 90s grunge playlist at the very beginning and then just listen to so much BANKS that I could not stop for weeks afterwards.

40. What is your favorite world that you've created for a fic?

The Bear as a band AU in put in in a zip-lock bag. Interestingly, a very natural stretch to transplant people from a chaotic kitchen setting to a chaotic, dysfunctional band setting. Mikey as a Kurt Cobain figure practically writes itself. Years of Behind the Music made this possible! I loved the experience of writing that fic and I loved that world! Everyone could be quietly devastated without burning down the kitchen (no promises about the Lollapalooza stage though).

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I was going to say Enemies-to-Lovers, hands down, but that's not an AU, I guess. It would be boring to write one type of AU forever, but if I had to choose I'd go with the tried and true spy AU. (...she says as she still has her current spy!AU remains in WIP hell.) As Sydney Bristow has taught us, Spy!Barbie can be anything so you could theoretically have an AU within your one AU and game the system. Also spies are the best! All popped collars and dead drops and so much guilt about the things they've done and the people they've let down. God, we need Alias back and by that I mean put the original show on streaming with the original music since every replacement track they used because they couldn't get licensing for streaming is terrible.

56. Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance?

That is one spiral I refuse to go down! Once it's out there, it is what it is. I've never wanted to go back and change any fics in a big way (I have gone back and fixed a grammatical error here and there that escaped notice during the editing process) because I wouldn't post it if I wasn't happy with it at the time. There are fics that I wish I had maybe finished before posting (ah, TGM!spy!AU, why are you so elusive?) because now they are albatrosses that I want to finish, know exactly how to finish, and yet can't finish.

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn't expect?

I never know how anything will be received so I don't even try to guess. I operate on a "don't time the market" philosophy except about fic - it is beyond my control so why perseverate over it? I guess I was surprised by how much traction deflect and absorb got. I don't know why, but I think we were all riding the high of a new Jurassic Park movie after like fifteen years (longer if you ignore Jurassic Park III) and had yet to experience "The Worst Chris" burnout (ugh, he really is the worst though) when Jurassic World came out. It was definitely my big dumb blockbuster that summer! In 2015, it wasn't automatically guaranteed that everything would get a handful of shitty sequels so you could live in the space of just enjoying a movie for what it was without thinking about how they were going to mess it up by stretching it out past the expiration date.

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #57

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Since his training with the true master all those months ago, Robin was trying to implement her greatest wisdom into his daily life.

Not taking himself too seriously. 

Of course, there was a time and place for being serious, but ever since she had imparted the wisdom, he began to feel more in control of his life. 

Batman has taught him how to be laser focused, and in a hell hole like Gotham, he had to be. 

But Jump was calmer. Sunnier. 

He was a crime fighter, yes, but he was also training a team of young heroes. People that were his friends and trusted him and liked him. 

His family, essentially. 

But right now, Robin was pissed, but was trying not to be. It happened to everyone, though now was not the ideal time. 

He had a sprained wrist. It had been completely broken, thanks to cinderblock, but thankfully Raven was able to knit him back together. Now he was grounded for a month while it healed the rest of the way. 

A total pain. 

It was never a good time to have an injury like this, but now was even worse. When Cinderblock escaped prison, he nearly brought down the whole facility…letting almost everyone go free. It was a nightmare out on Jump’s streets. 

He did his best to coordinate the teams from the tower, since Titans East had come to help. But he just itched to do something. Anything! 

His prayers were answered by a glowing white portal opening up in the living room. He was on his feet, staff in his good arm. He’d fight no matter what. 

An older Raven in white, an African American Man with a horn, and an older man in a black and blue suit stepped out of the portal. The man in black and blue also had a little boy hitched on his hip, and a little girl holding his hand. 

Robin relaxed, but still seemed confused. “Uh, hi?” 

The man with the children stepped up. “Boy Wonder, we have a mission for you.”

[harri-etvane]

I have a question about From the whole world, you are distant 💔

Do you deliberately break our hearts with the idea of Vova being forced to ask for help with the easiest things (because it's not how he DOES IT, it's 'everybody works, I work, everybody sleeps, I WORK' so then of course he feels he needs to apologise) and Maks appreciating the hell of the fact that he is the one to help? That he is even allowed to witness such moments? (AND are you maybe planning another hospital fic?)

ahh hi love, I adore this question.

y e s. You got it in one. That hell of being, so terribly hyper-competent at everything, not wanting help - but being made to ask for it because otherwise, you cannot go on. But then that reverence, of Maks, taking his arm, letting him walk - taking it as something to be treasured, regardless of the pain that comes with it. I think about that a lot tbh, and it's a weirdly... recurring theme in a lot of the nonsense I write; about being so wonderfully strong, but also having the grace, the strength to be vulnerable.

I edited and added to a lot of Laurel Grows, and I'm tempted to do the same with this because looking back at it, it's not really as detailed as I could have probably made it.

There is Something in my WIP pile (that full rewrite of Laurel that I've been going ON about for months) but I'm kinda.. over it lately because I've had so much IRL nonsense to handle & I've been faffing about and editing with it for ages. idk if I even like it any more or even want to rewrite it at this point. I did a full plan for it and everything, but I might just post the disconnected pieces I have, depending on what I feel like about it. Anyways, there's a lil snippet below the cut.

“No no. Sweetheart no.”

Olena gently takes hold of his shaking hand as he tugs feebly at the oxygen mask, having managed to dislodge it, frail as he is. It lies useless at the base of his throat, his breathing still harsh, as he struggles for air. He coughs, the sound rattling through his lungs as he tries desperately to speak beyond the slurred haze of painkillers. Something is clearly tormenting him that he needs to voice. He groans quietly, his eyelids heavy as he focuses on her face, trying to find some last shred of energy to speak, to make himself be understood. He's so pale now it frightens her; not that she would admit it, almost grey against the white sheets, his cheeks alarmingly scarlet. 

The unsteady whine of the ekg bites into her skull and she flickers a glance at the climbing numbers, her own heart suddenly quivering. The incessant beeping has faded into the background for her now, unless it changes - tracking the moments he struggles for breath, when his blood pressure dips, when he slips too far back into unconsciousness. It's not quite at the shrill pitch of the alarm, not yet, but close. She takes a deep breath to try and calm herself more than anything. 

“Nnh-”

He's been restless for hours now, unable to find relief, tossing and turning - his heart pounding, the fever climbing. He's struggling to breathe, his coughing harsh and grating as he tries to clear his lungs. The painkillers have worn off, she can tell from the agitaged look in his eyes and he manages no more than five syllables, his voice thin.

“Len.. th- children’s h-”

Oh. 

“No. Darling, please. You need rest,” She leans forward to stroke his hair gently, trying desperately to soothe him, her other hand clutching his. She forces her voice to be steady, to be his centre in this storm.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about that sweetheart. Here. Let's put this back for you-”

Still holding of one of his hands, with her other she gently replaces the mask over his nose and mouth, a little of her worry subsiding as the numbers on the monitor stop climbing, just his tired, red eyes on her face until he finally slips away again, his pained mumbling rendered inaudible.

“Ssh. There we go.”

Olena clutches at his hand, pressing her lips lightly against his knuckles, careful of the IV line in his forearm, the bandages and sensors. In her light, gentle grip, his hand shakes and she is suddenly struck by the thought that if she were to let go, he might drift away from her. She doesn’t realise she’s crying until Andriy passes her a crumpled tissue,  a hand pressed against her shoulder. It seems to loosen a dam inside her and she is suddenly sobbing, tears streaming down her face as Andriy carefully pulls her to his chest.  It’s awkward, uncomfortable, half turned toward Vova, unwilling to let go of his hand.

~*~*~

“You're alright, sir. You’re alright. I’ve got you. Ssh.”

Maksym sits on the bed, wedged beside Vova, rubbing circles slowly against his back as he huddles against Maks. He's so desperate for warmth somehow despite his burning skin, still slick with fever-sweat. The antipyretics, the cold compresses, anything that they've tried to get his temperature down; none of it seems to work. He shivers pitifully, the whole weight of him pressed against Maks, too weak to sit without help now as the fever rages through him, his temperature still rising despite what he feels. Maks has been cradling him for what feels like hours, holding him carefully, quietly in the dark, listening to his delirious whimpers, trying to ease his chest as he coughs, every noise another dagger somewhere in his heart.

“N-need–” the word is a pained, drawn out wheeze as he shivers again.

“What do you need? Water? Pain relief?” Maks pauses, one finger poised over the call button, holding Volodymyr as close as he can without hurting him. He's so on edge that every whimper, every mutter sends another spike of anxiety through him,  his own heart unsteady.

“Th- ‘Mericans..”

Ah jesus christ. Maksym could throttle them - every last one of their useless government as he mumbles something soothing, gentle - at odds with the thoughts in his head.. He'd be lying if he said he didn't blame them for this, for all of it. All of this, the waiting, the worrying, the stress - the weight of it, it's pushed his Vova far beyond what he can endure.

“You don’t need to worry about–”

“Said.. phone..” his words are dazed, his poor, aching head pressed unthinkingly against Maksym’s chest, his eyes closed as he struggles with the sentence, tries to force the thoughts in his head to make sense through the fog of fever, painkillers - all of it draping his thoughts in slow, thick, tar.

“You just need to rest. Please..” his voice is thick with grief that he can’t choke down, doesn’t have the energy to or the wherewithal. This nightmare feels endless somehow - nothing seems to help, nothing seems to be working as he sits in Maksym's arms, somehow shivering with cold even as his skin burns with a sick heat.

[halowritesthings]

i love learning about things a week late through youtube recommendations from random channels i've never seen before

(bad grammar and typos cause i'm shooting my shot as fast as possible so I can get back to Important Adult Stuff(TM))

i suppose i can't really gripe because i'm still largely logged out and wouldn't have heard otherwise so maybe I should take it for what it is

i know i'm a random person who writes as a hobby so I don't necessarily "owe" anything to people online, but y'all have been so sweet to me and I feel it would be unfair to keep dropping off the face of the planet like I have been, plus, I have been stewing over quite a bit of my thoughts these past few months and making a large "get all my thoughts out in a word vomit" post is a good way to A.) sort out my shit and B.) to procrastinate homework

college is BEATING MY ASS and i'm not even at the harder junior/senior year type stuff so even if my writer's block wasn't the worst it's ever been I highly doubt I would be writing anything anyway. i cannot say for certain when I'll be able to get back (it seems the universe is tailored specifically to punch me in the face whenever I have the slightest inclination to do so) but i will say it is always on my mind. i don't ever want to give up writing fully because of how many good things it's brought me but i want to be mature and say that it has taken a backseat in my life.

i still don't regret the things I've created and i will always be thankful for the experiences I've had + the friends I've made (even if we haven't talked in a while :') sorry guys) BUT this situation has just become the nail in the coffin for me in terms of what i want to do with my ds/mp and other adjacent fics. i can't say for certain what I'll go through and orphan/keep or just outright delete (WIPS/unfinished series will probably get deleted is what I've decided so far) so this is a BIG WARNING sign right here and now: if there are any ds/mp fics of mine you are fond of, please go and save them now. even if you think the one you really love is "safe" it's better to be cautious and have it yourself than hope for the best outcome.

now's a good time to mention that i have been feeling similar feelings toward my fl0wer husb4nds fics (gonna come out and be honest: i don't particularly care for sc0tt anymore, sorry) so if you like those you should also search them out. i think a hard majority if not all of them will be orphaned, so they'll still be up, but it never hurts to be able to read something while offline anyway

however, due to the aforementioned Important Adult Stuff(TM), i won't be able to get to the whole Properly deleting/orphaning process for a hot minute. that does not mean you should put off saving my fics because my brain could decide one night that i HAVE to do it IMMEDIATELY, but i can promise that it's not happening tonight (might hold off for at least a week just to give people time to see this post).

TSALP, my pride and joy, is perfectly safe and fine. when i think about whenever ill be able to write again, this series is the First thing to pop up in my mind. i have so many things i want to do with that series (and h3rmitcr4ft as a whole) that make me smile despite all that has happened surrounding mc/yt. someone will need to threaten me with death to make me even consider giving that up. hell, even taking a step back, i can say that i will never fully let go of mc/yt. i straight-up have tickets to go see tommy's america show later this month (send my dad well wishes as he's the one taking me LMAO) .

remember to drink water, take breaks, tell your friends you love them etc. I'm terrible at giving advice since I'm a bonafide mess of a person, but i will say that the best thing you can do for each other is support one another. i've always been a bigger fan of giving support to those who are hurt than trying to go and cause more pain to the people that you can argue "deserve" it. the people you care about are going to be with you much longer than the assholes, so be sure to put more energy into focusing on them than the ones that don't even deserve your scorn.

[avatarskywalker78]

It's Six Sentence Sunday and I've been working on more than one wip, so this week you get three extracts! Firstly, part one of my Aquafam AU, which I'm hoping to get finished this week but I'm not promising.

“It’s important. At some point you’ll have to go up there, you know – wouldn’t you rather find out things in advance? You can’t ignore half the world just because you don’t like it, and the best way to combat prejudice is to do research.”

“I don’t plan on visiting anytime soon.” Orm said dryly. “I’d have to leave my cell first, and there’s still some months left before I can do so outside of my reparation duties.”

Arthur was working on that as well, but that was taking time and he didn’t want to get his brother’s hopes up for an early release that might not happen.

“I’m sure you’ll like it.” Was what he said instead. “I’ve got so many things I wanna show you, little brother, and you’ll love the food – we’ve got steak and cheeseburgers and tacos and—”

“None of that means anything to me.”

“You’ll learn!” Arthur declared, feeling cheerful about the prospect and clapping Orm on the shoulder. “You’re gonna love it, I swear.”

“I shall take your word for it.”

(Orm does suspect Arthur is up to something, by the way - he's not very subtle)

Next, the 'Tory is a Barnes' AU and I've written the whole fight scene, so here's a snippet (in other news, I hate writing fight scenes, why do I do this to myself?!)

“Tory, please, you don’t need to do this—”

“This has nothing to do with you!” Tory snarled, eyes alight with a wild fury. “I dunno who the hell you are, but you’d better get out of the way—”

“What, so you can continue with all this? With the brawl you started?” Elaine made sure she was standing between her cousin and Sam as she stepped back. “Look what you’ve done—”

“She had it coming! She deserves what she gets and no one’s gonna stop me!”

Then Tory sprang forward, faster than she was expecting, and landed a sharp kick to Elaine’s chest that sent her crashing into the lockers and fucking hurt, and Elaine fought to get her breath back as Tory let out a yell before going after Sam again—

“No!” Elaine had to stop her, and as the girls crashed through the door she tackled Tory from behind, hauling her away from Sam and ignoring the shouts and hollers of the other kids.

Lastly it's the 'Lissa Blackwood' AU - which I've been rewriting and also debating on whether to have it as a longfic or as a series of fics (if it's the latter, this fic will be up this week)

He gave her a concerned look.

“Lady Blackwood, we…were asked to find you as well. By your family and…by the Kingslayer—”

“Jaime. His name is Jaime.” Ned valued honour above all - that was the Stark way, she knew, and of course he would also dislike Jaime on principle…

But she’d just seen one of her oldest friends die, and she wasn’t going to listen to her other friend be talked about like this, not after two months of it from the Kingsguard.

“Jaime.” Ned acquiesced – unhappily, but he acquiesced, and Melissa took a deep breath.

“I’ve been through much, Lord Stark,” she told him, “and today has been one of the worst days for all of us. I…do not feel ready to talk about my return.”

She's not stalling - this point she honestly hasn't decided what she's going to do (but it doesn't take her very long)

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

[thechaoscryptid]

👀👀 hello! Here to ask about Wake the White Wolf for the WIP name game 👀👀 is this about Kakashi?? Or Sakumo??? TELL ME MORE PLEASE 🥹

(curious about my WIPs?)

Also tagging in @mrssakurahatake, who also asked about WWW 🥹🥰

It is indeed about Kakashi! And, by subplot extension, Sakumo lmao. So Wake the White Wolf was a project I embarked on in late 2018 into early 2019, back in my KakaIru days. It's the longest fic I've ever written, even though it's nowhere near finished - I did 120k in a little over 8 months, and I've never come close to anything like that before.

It was, however, an idea that was too advanced for my skill level at the time, I think. I had a lot of ideas (good ones!) but not the skill to do them justice, which is part of why it's sat in WIP purgatory for the last several years 😭 I've been so busy actually leveling up as a writer and exploring different fandoms that the work it's going to take to breathe new life into the fic was just too much.

Now, however, my Wake the White Wolf document is a beautiful blank page, and also going to be part of my novel-plotting process! I've got a few different plotting methods I'd like to try before I sit down and try to actually puzzle out my novel's plot, and because I know how WWW was supposed to go, I want to do a test run with that story (and then, of course, rewrite it).

There are things I plan to do a little differently this time around, aspects I'd like to flesh out and nail down, but it's been ages since I've really sat down with a Naruto fic and I'm just. Kinda. Giving myself space to feel all right in the fandom again as I work the story out.

Story-wise:

I'm JAZZED AS HELL to really develop the secondary relationships in the fic more. There's a lot of healing to do between Kakashi and Iruka before they really can start to be together (forced marriage trope heehee), and I want both of them to be a little more mature before the turning points really start to hit. I'm especially excited about the IruAnko besties-with-benefits and GenRai "oh, so these relationships CAN work" vision

There's also a great B-plot about Kakashi that has to do with the fic's OC, Sera, and Orochimaru, which was like really vaguely alluded to in what's posted but I'm feral about actually working into the fic.

I wrote this at a time I was really just starting to question my gender and long before I came out as trans, and I think writing the fic (which, looking back, is an exploration of that gender angst) through the lens of a better-adjusted person is going to be a great experience and make for a more coherent, cohesive narrative.

I guess like LONG long story short this is a fic that's haunted me for ages because I really appreciate every single person who's read it but there's also that "fuck, I'm so much better than this" that I just have to GET OVER and rewrite the thing so people can see!!!