#wip: a hint of rosemary

[morganmaietto]

Last Line Tag

Thank you for the tag @writingalterras!

Something seems off with that.

Words 5

Tagging: @axl-ul, @winterandwords, @verba-writing, @toribookworm22, @freedominique (only if you want to join in) and keeping this open tag too.

[morgans-sideblog]

A Hint of Rosemary Snippet

 The house has sat abandoned for nearly twenty five years. A realtor called me asking for help, actually, she wanted to try to renovate the house and sell it because she said the property itself is beautiful. While I don’t doubt it’s nice, I just don’t see why she would pick up a project like an abandoned house. Something seems off with that. I don’t know why it just seems weird to restore a house that has been abandoned for so long, and with its history, no one will buy it. 

When we arrived at the house, the grass was overgrown and the bushes alongside the house were also overgrown. The blue roof looked like it was about to cave in and the house was clearly white but the moss was making it look rotten. 

“Are we going to be safe going in there?” Aster asked.

“Yeah, we should be good, it’s just on the outside. They were remodeling the inside.” I explained

“Hey, you must be Rosemary, right?” A woman with black hair tied into a ponytail, dressed in a blue blouse and black pencil skirt came forward with her hand extended in greeting.

“Rose or Mary please, and yes I am.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” she said. 

I waved her off.

“And who’s this?” She asked, turning to smile at Aster.

“I’m Aster, I’m her sister.” Aster answered.

“Well it’s nice to meet you both.” She smiled even wider, I felt a little uneasy.

“Nice to meet you too.” Aster said.

“Your name is Patty Bates right?” I asked.

“That’s me, would you like a tour? I can show you where I’ve seen the… thing.” 

I nodded and she led us through the front door. 

[cerezzzita]

🌙 ˖ . ᵎᵎ nightime mooncakes ✦ 2Bayonetta x Fem!Reader

⌕ synopsis: “There's nothing like spending the night with your beloved Umbra Witch.”

notes: finally took time to work on this wip, a little bit more and it would create spider webs. hey! told you all that I would feed the Bayo fandom, and here I am! I'm happy with how that oneshot resulted good, my writing seems more smooth here. yet ummm, the ending to me it's kinda... meh. hope y'all enjoy it because GODDAMNIT THIS FANDOM NEEDS MORE FOOD MORE FANFICS AM I RIGHT?? oh, how could I forget? this plot was born thanks to this writing prompts list! it's just so good, maybe we'll have more of these with an certain lil red devil hohoho

✦ read on ao3

♡ word count: 628

♡ tags: fem!reader, 2nd pov (you/yours), only the sweetest of the sweet with that adorable sexy witch <3

ⓘ gif's not mine !!

So strongly bluish were the silk sheets that they easily merged with the glimpse of the night sky highlighted by the open window, the light scent of rosemary spread in the room's air made everything even more relaxing and welcoming. A smiling sigh left your lips as your body settled over the silky fabric that enveloped the soft mattress, such contact made every muscle soften and forget for a few seconds any stress you had at that day. 

Not far away, a fragrance of diamond lilies possessed the surroundings, overcoming the scent of rosemary with a hint of freshness as company. Your permanent smile widened, and lying on your side you had a wryly angelic vision of your dear Cereza emerging from the bathroom of your shared room, her short ebony hair being dried gracefully by a terry towel, her body adorned in an amethyst satin nightgown subtly reaching her thighs and the beautiful face without her infamous glasses. She was quick to capture your watchful gaze, cocking corner by corner of her lips a smile of movement so solemnly akin to a cat's dexterity.

“What do you admire so much, my little mooncake?” Cereza articulated the query in her smooth voice and intoxicating accent.

You chuckled through your nose, lying on your stomach, your legs crossed in the air.

“You, obviously.” your answer was steeped in amusement. The smile of your beloved Umbra Witch softened, along with her captivating quartz gray eyes. “Is there another beauty in this room other than you, Cerezita?”

The well-known Bayonetta walked towards you with gentle, feline steps, her long plump legs moving with politeness; she leaned over you and placed both hands on either side of your arms, the veil of avidity dressing every feature of her alluring face.

“I'm looking at her right now,” in a honeyed whisper, Cereza nuzzled the tip of her nose with yours, laughing softly and lovingly. Goosebumps formed trails all over your body in the company of a warm feeling in your inner being.

Embarrassed and without retort, you discreetly pulled your face away from hers, your hands running affectionately like silent snakes from the arms to the shoulders of the Umbra Witch; the mingled scent of rosemary and diamond lilies there on her satiny skin.

Cereza's throat rumbled something like a luscious, delectable purr, her slender body slowly snuggling up to yours. Within seconds, you were both entwined on the azure sheets, laying your head on the witch's ample breasts and circling your arms around her curvy waist. In return, Cereza looped her leg through yours and hugged your torso; breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, occasionally peppering your forehead with butterfly-light kisses.

“Hm…” you did, murmuring against her skin. “I wanna be big spoon this time.”

“But you're tiny,” she couldn't help the short laugh at the end of the sentence, her voice slightly muffled.

You lifted your head with your chin finding support on one of Cereza's soft breasts, your lips forming a ready pout.

“Just this once?”

The Umbra Witch's gray irises stared at your asking features. An ebony brow rising along the left corner of her rosy smile.

“That puppy dog ​​face of yours isn't going to work for me, mooncake,” Cereza pinched the bridge of your nose lightly between her fingers. You grumbled, smiling with warm cheeks.

Your face was guided by the witch's warm hand back to her bust, you closed your eyes and relaxed into the loving arms of your beloved one. For one last time that night, Cereza placed a permanent kiss on your forehead. The comfort of sleep lulled both of you, the most special memory before Morpheus relaxed your mind was a velvety whisper of "I love you" originated from your Cereza.

cerezzzita��, 2022 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours

[cedarbranch]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @sunriseverse thank you!!

tagging: @figbian @shark-myths @stoplightglow @zipegs and anyone else who wants to participate (with no pressure if you don't!) questions below the cut :-)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

currently 65! i've orphaned several over the years though. unfortunately i am an Extremely Slow Writer so i always wanna see this number go up and it never goes as fast as i want it to :') we can hit 67 this year... surely....

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

847,778! used to be higher (more in the 950k range) prior to orphaning, i'm not sure if i've actually written over a million words or not at this point? v excited for the day that milestone actually shows up in my stats though! my current wips could tip me over, we'll see how it goes... 👀

3. what fandoms do you write for?

currently hannibal and stranger things! i've bounced around many fandoms in my day, but my most significant contributions thus far have been for mcr/bandom and the magnus archives. really hoping i end up writing enough for my current fandoms that i can consider them part of that shortlist too!! :-)

4. top five fics by kudos

like a moth to light (like a beast to bait) / 2117 kudos, save that heart for me / 1480 kudos, how particular, my fondness of you / 1445 kudos, convicted criminals of thought / 1177 kudos, and questionable decisions / 847 kudos! wow, that last one took me by surprise, it was such a jokey little fic i often forget about it. nice to look back at these and see things with over 1k kudos though, i remember that being an unattainable pipe dream back when i was writing mcr in the dead era that was 2017 :')

5. do you respond to comments?

i often do! i try to respond to every comment i get when a fic is published, and i like to respond much later on as well, it just tends to slip my mind if it's an older fic. stuff gets lost in my inbox. i certainly read every comment though, and the comments left on older fics are often the ones that make me happiest!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmm... i mostly write happy endings unless they're character studies. the true angstiest ending i've written is for a fic i haven't posted yet (hint: it's a sequel to a oneshot of mine!) but i do have short fics about both michael and gerry's deaths in tma? i'll go with the gerry death fic, thinking of the sun.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

they're mostly happy!!! but the one that ends most on a note of Joy, i think, would be rosemary and thyme, my fae!martin au :-)

8. do you get hate on fics?

nah. i have an extremely vague memory of getting a comment that made me go "omg my first hate comment" but like it's so vague that i can't tell if it's a false memory or not 😭 people have always been quite nice to me, thankfully!

9. do you write smut?

i do! i tried to avoid it whenever i could when i was younger but these days i've actually become super interested in sex as a vehicle for character studies. that tumblr post that's like "the plot of this smut fic is that character A believes himself abandoned by god" is one HUNDRED percent my approach recently, definitely expect some of that upcoming on my ao3 lolll

10. craziest crossover?

i don't really write crossovers! i like them in comic/fanart form, but i tend to be less interested in crossover fic (unless it's HEU, i do quite like spacedogs)... the only times i've ever thought about creating crossover content myself were for a couple pacrim fusion ideas!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

eh, not really. a long time ago i did have someone basically rip the worldbuilding from one of my AUs with the serial numbers filed off, but they did ask permission - i said yes because i was like 16 and felt too awkward saying no. so that was weird! but not quite stealing.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! to steal a kiss from borrowed lips was translated into russian, such an honor :D

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have, a really long time ago. i don't think i would do it again (unless it was with, like, one of two specific irls) bc i think i'd struggle with figuring out a collaborative workflow. part of me also thinks it could be a fun exercise though...

14. all time favorite ship?

OUGH..... mannnn what a question. it changes every few years and i feel like my response is influenced by not just the source material, but the quality of the fan content and the fandom interactions i've had... you know what? i know i have current-hyperfixation bias, but for now i am gonna say hannigram. it's just too peak.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Too Many Of Them - but in particular, my chrissy cunningham-centric longfic. it's an entire treatise on sapphic loneliness and small-town queer isolation and i do think it'd be a fucking masterpiece if i ever managed to commit to it, but it's on the forever back-burner i think.

16. what are your writing strengths?

hmm... characterization through dialogue is the main thing, i'd say. i'm always thinking about how to match a given character's speech patterns and i think i tend to capture their voices pretty well!

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i'm my own biggest critic so i could list a bunch, but pacing is a big one. i tend to let things run too long and i feel like i've only just managed to balance it better in my current wip... only took a decade of fic-writing to get there 😭

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

depends a lot on context. honestly too many thoughts to condense well into an answer for this djglfg but in short: usually nice if it's just a few words, but can get unwieldy otherwise

19. first fandom you wrote in?

kuroshitsuji 💀 self-insert and OC-centric fic. how very unlike me

20. favorite fic you've written?

moth to light has been the reigning champ for a while now, but i think several of my current wips could potentially unseat it!

[trevisos]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

tagged by the wonderful @rosieofcorona!!! thank you!!

i am. an awful and inattentive mutual and i don’t actually know who has any writing projects on the go right now who would want to share, but i know some of y’all do sooooooo consider yourself tagged :3c

i also have the memory of a goldfish so if you’ve already seen any of these snippets in my wip tag just pretend you haven’t

1. “rare and sweet” (subject to change lol) xarrai/astarion

This was supposed to be easy. He’s done this for two hundred years, lured lamb after lamb to the slaughter to save his own hide. It should be easy, natural, instinctive. But Astarion looks at Xarrai and he can feel the gravel under his knees, the resistance of their muscles under his fingers, their nails on his scalp.

The disgust is one thing – he knows that, knows how to work around it. The disgust has been his to have and to hold for centuries. The desire makes things complicated.

He wants them. He does not want to. Their wrist is still held inches from his face.

Astarion bites.

2. untitled xarrai/astarion piece

From anyone else, it would sound candid. But Xarrai, Shadowheart has noticed, seems far too guarded for candor. What may be candid from someone else’s lips is just as likely to be deceit from theirs; a layer peeled back only shows yet another layer beneath, opaque and inscrutable even as their lilting voice rings clear and true.

Then again, it might not be. That’s the trouble with liars – how does one know when they’ve stopped lying?

3. yet another untitled xarrai/astarion piece. i swear i write other things too sometimes

The problem, of course, is that he wasn't the only charlatan on that Mindflayer ship.

And so, Xarrai sees his deception plain. Why shouldn't they? It mirrors their own; careful misdirection and flippancy wielded like a knife up a sleeve. A liar sees a liar sees a lie. They are both wolves in patriars’ clothes, spiders spinning webs of cheerful deceit. And even if they hadn’t caught his lie when they first met, they watched him dip his fingers into a tiefling’s pocket on their way out of the grove not an hour prior. There are few magistrates with the balls to try that.

4. ALSO untitled xarrai/gale piece

Xarrai’s thumb is on his cheek, now. He can feel the callous where it brushes his stubble. Their voice almost shakes, but not quite. “Can I kiss you?”

Gale has scarcely dreamt of anything except hearing those words again since the last time they asked it. He breathes deep and closes his eyes. There it is, that hint of bergamot and rosemary and brandy. The smell of graveyard dirt and blood. They aren’t his. Anger and grief and love like a house fire tear through his chest. “You know the answer to that,” he says, softly. None of the anger, all of the grief. He won’t think about the love.

“I do,” they say. They linger, one last moment. “I’m sorry.”

5. untitled gale/ieriyn piece. as u can tell titles are like the last thing i do lol

“You must know,” says Gale, eyes half lidded, “that there is only one star in the sky brighter than Mystra’s.”

“Of course,” Ieriyn murmurs. Gale’s hand is in his hair, twining the strands between his fingers like silken flame. Ieriyn melts into it, into him; he presses his hand to Gale’s chest and feels the steady beat of his heart.

“Ieriyn. The Sailor’s Star.” It’s breathtaking, the way most anything can sound like a prayer on Gale’s tongue.

6. i bet u can guess what this one is. (xarrai/astarion. no title. lol)

For once, Xarrai doesn’t know what their face looks like. Their ears are ringing, their lungs filled with rage, their heart pounding in their chest. Astarion looks at them with that same fire in his gemstone eyes, wild and panting. Cornered. The Weave is alive on their tongue, a mouthful of electricity. They could show him exactly what they know of fucking tyranny. They could make him feel the pain he seems so certain meant nothing. They could peel apart the folds of his mind with a flick of their tongue. They could grab the knife in his ribs and twist, twist, twist. They want to. Their whole body screams at them to do it, to use the truth he’s given them like a weapon until he weeps before them like the frightened child they used to be.

7. i'm predictable. i'm sorry. LOL. this one is Very nsfw though be warned

Astarion doesn’t hesitate before he nods. “Of course I can.” He leans into their touch. “Honestly, dear, you’re more trouble than you’re—“

Lips on his and a sharp nail dragged lightly across the head of his cock and Astarion forgets entirely what he was trying to say. He shudders, nails finding purchase on the ridges in Xarrai’s back. He whines into their mouth and feels them laugh against his lips as their hand finally closes around him, the fingers of their other hand still pressing relentlessly into his prostate. He breaks the kiss to press his face into the crook of their neck again instead, breathing in the smell of the oiled leather of their collar where it mixes with the salt of their sweat and the warm musk of their cologne. His gasps and whines are muffled by the leather, and he digs his nails into their skin, fucking himself on their fingers and rutting desperately into their hand. “You are—“ he gasps softly, lips nearly brushing Xarrai’s ear, “fucking incredible.”

“Oh? And here I thought I was more trouble than I was worth.”

[avocado-frog]

WIP questionaire

Thank you to @late-to-the-fandom !

1. What's the first part of your WIP that you created?

The characters have all been around since I started writing at age 12, with some minor changes, but they've stayed relatively similar. This version in particular, I already had the characters, but the second thing was of course the vibes. I had just finished over the garden wall in May for some reason and it hit me with the creativity stick and i outlined a book and set the goal to try to finish it before school started again. And then it (predictably) took me until December to finish it

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2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Forget me not A burning memory reece moseley Dahlia Meteor shower cavetown

Rosemary Canary in a coal mine the crane wives

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3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

In terms of personality, Leo is my favorite to write. I like my protagonists terribly mean and slightly unhinged, but also they're the main character so they're the most developed and easiest for me to write. The first twelve or so chapters of rosemary had Leo completely out and it was a little tricky to write what the OTHER characters were up to without her plot line to bounce off of. Like forget me not is my Leo-centric story, so obviously the other characters follow what she's up to, and Dahlia, even though it's the Elliot-centric story which Dylan and Ryan follow, still has the Leo B plot. The first twelve rosemary chapters have Leo's absence as a thing for the other character's arcs, but the minute I got to write a Leo pov chapter again is where I got my footing back

In terms of character arc/production, it's Dylan. Besides Leo, Jaxon, and Elliot in forget me not (who are the main three characters for that story) and a little bit for Ryan, there isn't much in terms of development for plot points for the other characters until about part two/three. Which I'm going to add scenes when I do my round of editing any day now

Dylan gets hints of their arc for dahlia and a portion of rosemary in like. chapter fourteen. I think that's the ice skating chapter and while that's mostly there to develop Leo and Lily's relationship, Dylan and Elliot get a little bit of time as well. They're noticeably a little further behind than the others, and then in chapter sixteen, there's a small line from Elliot that implies that he is Dylan's only friend aside from the main characters, which is especially important because a solid most of the others have their own friend groups outside of the main cast who barely if ever show up, but we know they're there. Leo has friends in chapter three and it's mentioned that Cass does as well. Lily and Jaxon are relatively popular, and in the first chapter of dahlia, it's said that he'd been going to his friend's house (I think his name was Cole). In chapter sixteen, Sam is the most sociable of the three (ryan sam elliot) and by dahlia, has an established friend group. In chapter sixteen, Ryan and Elliot have trouble with it for a while, but make a friend by the end of it. The only two characters who DON'T are Dylan and Logan and boy could I write an essay on those two. Their arc is also set up in one of the last chapters for forget me not before dahlia starts (part two is Dylan's arc)

I'd keep talking about them but for the sake of length i'm not going to

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4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

I might be cheating on this one by just listing a bunch of stuff I took inspiration from but. omori and coraline. Maybe stuff like the owl house too. Gravity falls. Over the garden wall is an obvious pick

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5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

So each of my chapter titles are dates which does mean that I have to be careful with timeline stuff because people can poke holes all around there. why did this thing happen before this thing how old was this character when this happened and etc. making a timeline is hard And since it takes place in the real world and I didn't make up any fake towns I have to do stuff like, how far are these two cities actually. is there an ikea in new hampshire. double hard because i've not once been to the east coast and in fact live on the other side of the country. I know what the weather is like during March in Idaho because I live right BY Idaho. I've got no clue what the weather in March is like in Maine because I DONT live right by maine and I dont want my actual phone's weather app to think I live there now I also hate writing dialogue for antagonists because it feels corny every time I try to write it. In the same vein, serious scenes. Born to write a tragedy forced to write a comedy or something

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6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

I gave Ryan a cat because bad things kept on happening to him and I felt bad. I forgot what the cat's name is (i keep referring to the cat as The Cat) but he's a menace who causes plot holes because like okay now i've got to know what this fucking cat is doing during this scene. I DO like using the cat as foreshadowing though. Adding this in after I've written two more chapters but I'm adding in hints of There's Something Up With This Cat that I'm probably not going to do anything with but it would make for fun theories if this were a show Dylan does get a lot of bird symbolism (canaries + crows mostly), and Elliot is associated with rabbits. Ryan again has cat associations and Sam has dog associations. The other characters don't really have the same thing but I've been using a porcupine for Leo OH and I forgot about the rat. Jaxon used to have an unnamed rat but I sadly had to cut the rat because adding pets into a storyline comes with a surprising amount of plot holes The biggest animal association reference comes in a scene between Dylan and Sam in one of the rosemary chapters (not going to look for it right now) where Dylan is drawing the above mentioned animals- mostly the rabbit- and we get a reference to the rat. I think I might have had a deer for Lily and a sparrow for Cass (because i love my cass dylan parallels) but I don't remember what I had for Logan. I DO remember having a hard time with his and Jaxon's especially. This went off the rails I'm sorry

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7. How do your characters travel/get around?

The transportation situation was always a bit of a plot hole for me when I was writing the first part, because I only have two characters who can canonically drive and I only have one that SHOULD be driving.

Leo has a murder van that she stole. I used it for forget me not chapter five/nine because five is when she takes it and nine is when she gets to the place it came from so she'd obviously need it. But then I kind of forgot about it, and since it's a Murder Van and the person driving it Stole It and is also only sixteen by that point and had only driven like twice before, nobody would ever want to get inside of it

I do have a throwaway line in I THINK forget me not seventeen that says that cass and leo are taking driving lessons, but we're already over halfway done with that story so it hardly matters

As for Logan, he doesn't NEED a car that can fit nine people, because before chapter ten, there were only four of them. And I don't know that he would be able to reasonably afford a proper car with third row seating

I mentioned in one of the chapters that he DOES buy a new car but I think I'm going to delete it once I go through the next round of editing

What I did for the second to last arc in forget me not where the group actually is trying to get somewhere is that I split them up into Leo's Van vs Logan's Car, which does have some continuity errors that I'm FIXING IN THE NEXT ROUND OF EDITING!!!!! I SWEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I'm at part 2/3 of the third book in the series, writing chapter 30 and trying hard to figure out how to write an opening line for an important chapter!!! It is Not Coming Along Well. I have four chapters left in this part and it is pretty clear that I moved around some chapters lmao. I'm cutting a character who I never used who STILL managed to get a focus arc in rosemary that I'm deleting, and I redid what chapters would go to which part following this, which made my outline a little weird since I've changed it from 5 parts to 3 like normal. Which I'm sure makes you think oh wow you probably deleted a lot of chapters- NO i had to ADD chapters to make it DIVISIBLE BY THREE INSTEAD OF FIVE. Now there are FIFTY-ONE chapters and i'm on chapter THIRTY

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9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in?

Lots of found family tropes. lab whump for those interested. gay people. you see my vision.

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10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Mainly for me to finish it lmao but it'd be cool to have people who like it. Thinking about publishing but im not sure. I also think it would be neat to make a webcomic or something but that would require me to learn to draw and put in like effort and stuff

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OPEN TAG TODAY

[acorntops]

#FantasyIndiesDecember (@l.v.russell_author @chesneyinfalt)- If your MC was a candle, what would it smell like? If Clary from Where the Heart Is was a candle it would smell like rosemary, sunshine, and green with a hint of pine and the sea. #TheMoonSolsticeandSkyChallenge (@themidnight_novelist)- #MondayMoodboard: Dreams Just so happened to have this moodboard for my WIP, An Impossible Dream, that showcases a bit about the ongoing theme about dreams and different characters' views! #authorgram #bookstagram #bookcandles #bebookseries #animpossibledream #wheretheheartis #authorsofinstagram #booksofinstagram #readersofinstagram #readingofinstagram #writerscommunity #writingcommunity #readingcommunity #readerscommunity #authorchallenge #moodboard #bookaesthetic #bookquotes #dreamquotes #rosemary #bookscent #writingscent #writingsenses #bookseries #upcomingbook https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmr0IRoS0kc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[grayintogreen]

Critical Role Fanfic Masterlist June 16th-July 31st

WELL. That was sure a fucking intense marathon since the last time I posted one of these. I would have done it on the 15th like I said, but by that time I was like THIS CLOSE to finishing shattered stage, so I just said to hell with it and moved it to the end of the month. I know the bitch who sets these masterlist deadlines and she says they’re more like guidelines.

Some of this stuff are things that have been seen here before because they were either ask box prompts or the chaptered fics I’ve been linking as I post them (which I said I wasn’t doing, but again I know the bitch who says these things and she is a liar), but for posterity and organization purposes, I’m linking them here. I like neat lists. I am who I am.

I dunno how I’m gonna compete with this next month. I started my Bad Things Happen Bingo fics in earnest, finished three huge wips, and participated in Fjorester Week. It’s... it’s a lot, you guys.

MULTI-CHAPTERED FICS

turning wine back into water. (T) 30,457 words. 7/7 chapters. Canon Ships. The Mighty Nein return to Xhorhas to deal with some kidnapped children... and then they become the kidnapped children. Age-regression and action/adventure shenanigans ensue. Canon Compliant.

this church takes no conversions (T) 68,008 words. 16/16 chapters. Cree/Lucien. Lucien and Cree’s relationship with each other and the Tombtakers and the world around them from Shadycreek Run to the failed ritual and all the highs and lows that entails. As Canon Compliant as it can be considering it’s 85% headcanon.

the shattered stage is set (and there’s a role you must fulfill). (T) 94,139 words. 15/15 chapters. Canon ships, hints of Widomauk and Creecien to taste. The Chained Oblivion wants to break free and one champion isn’t enough to prevent it. If Kingsley wants to best it, then he’ll need help from two more- Lucien and Molly. You can be canon compliant and canon divergent and also be completely jossed by canon at the same time if you believe in yourself.

LUCIGAST FICS

this is bitter earthquake weather. (T) 2445 words. Intellectual dirt wizard who is done with this shit vs cult leader desperate for dominance: round one. Canon Divergent.

is this a story that you know? (T) 2333 words.  Intellectual dirt wizard who is done with this shit vs cult leader desperate for dominance: round two. Canon Divergent.

never trust the tenor of the skies (M) 2002 words. Caleb seeks out Lucien in the Blooming Grove after the amulet heist and the incident on the Fire Plane leaves him shaken. Canon Divergent. Evil AU, effectively.

FJORESTER FICS

for lavender’s blue and for rosemary’s green. (G) 993 words. Fjord tries to hide an injury from Jester, and she does not appreciate it. Canon Compliant.

one’s for the fiddler and one’s for the dancer. (G) 1266 words. Fighting and dancing are basically the same thing if you do it right. Class Swap AU.

the happy is expensive but the ever after’s free. (G) 1547 words. Fjord seeks out the Gentleman to ask an important question about Jester and gets a far different response than he expected. Canon Compliant.

trickster dressed in pretty skin. (G) 3122 words. In a society where manifesting new gods lead to trouble, ex-cult kid Fjord meets Jester, a girl just trying to manifest her childhood friend. This is fine. Modern With Magic AU (except it’s the 80′s for some reason).

sang the salt into the waves. (G) 1559 words. Fjord shows off his new invocation for SHAMELESS POLYMORPH FLUFF. Canon Compliant.

take a breath and turn the pages. (G) 1412 words. Fjord and Jester are blessed with three... very unique baby girls. Canon Compliant.

be certain of courage and safe is your berth. (G) 1199 words. Fjord and Jester talk about parenthood, but they have to get through Fjord’s weird duck metaphors and Kingsley first. Canon Compliant.

CREECIEN FICS

when the ice melts, will we still be skating circles? (M) 2737 words. Cree’s losing faith. Lucien makes some filthy promises he probably isn’t going to keep. Canon Compliant.

just tell me i’m allowed to stay right where you are. (G) 2420 words. Lucien’s got post-resurrection trauma and Cree is just very tired and very, very dedicated. Canon Compliant.

you shall be the brand i bear. (G) 1064. Cree is Lucien’s protector. It’s what she does. Canon Compliant.

OTHER SHIP FICS

you can make a living going crazy (T) 1670 words. Caleb/Molly/Lucien/Kingsley. Jester and the Tealeaf Terror Trio put together a fun little test for Caleb. Having identical boyfriends is a pain in the ass sometimes. Takes canon out back and puts it down gently. It’s just cute. Just... Just don’t think about it.

GEN FICS

the line is fine between the saint and sinner. (T) 7250 words. Lucien makes a bad miscalculation. The Mighty Nein try to save Molly and get a cretin, instead. And, honestly, Lucien has no idea what the fuck is even going on in his life anymore. Canon Divergent.

this masquerade is for the fools. (G) 2027 words. POLYMORPH THERAPY. SHAMELESS FLUFF. THIS FIC CAN HOLD SO MUCH CUTE. Canon Divergent.

may your princes understand you (may your wolves get out alive). (T) 6427 words. Jester’s trip to the Feywild doesn’t go as planned and Artagan is not best pleased. 

[thorniest-rose]

Hey, about your last ask. Can I ask how you coordinate your writing? Are you spontaneous? Like you see something and then you need to write something about it. Or do you have a list with the WIPs that you still want to finish and with possibly plot bunnies? (Btw if this is the case could we get a hint of this list 👀)

Hello! It's actually both!! So I'm always seeing things and feeling inspired for new fics, and that can definitely railroad other fics I've been working on. So for example, I watched the first episode of Cobra Kai where Terry is eating vegetarian food and pretending to be so elegant and civilised, and I immediately thought of a fic where he's a werewolf who was sired by Kreese but over the last couple of decades he's learned to control it and doesn't shift anymore, but then Kreese comes back and he sees Daniel, and he starts to crave raw meat and violence, and starts shifting back into a wolf. All very much a metaphor for monstrous desire!!!

But in terms of other fics I've been working on or want to work on, god there are so many. Here's a shortlist:

Lawrusso S4 affair fic

Silverusso fic spanning KK3 to CK S4

90s Lawrusso stripper Daniel x MMA fighter Johnny fic

Follow-up to "as dark as a wounded doe" during the summer where Daniel goes to Okinawa and the boys go through bad withdrawal because they're utterly codependent. Also exploring how the Cobras feel in the aftermath of murdering Kreese.

A/B/O CK-set Lawrusso fic where Johnny helps Daniel through his heats even though they hate each other.

Updates to my tattooed Johnny ex-Lawrusso fic

S4 Lawrusso fic where Daniel and Johnny bond over food.

Other plot bunnies include: a fic where Cobra Kai is an actual cult and Daniel is recovering after escaping from it, but is being drawn back by Terry who's the cult leader; a fic where Terry is the literal antichrist, inspired by The Witch and Rosemary's Baby; a fic where Johnny is taken on as Mr Miyagi's second student after the events of TKK and goes to Okinawa with them but becomes extremely jealous of Chozen and is secretly in love with Daniel.

[belphegor1982]

Hmmm, what about 23, 30 and 31 for the fanfic asks? 😊

Thank you, kind anon 💜💜💜

23. What’s your absolute favourite trope to write?

Already answered here :o)

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

(no context, huh? Okay!)

In retrospect, the handful of months that make up the summer of 1914 will always seem golden to Elizabeth, a glorious impossibility, shining and warm in her memory.

June, July, August, even some of September, are filled with happiness. Not necessarily the kind that shone through her when she, Tom and Jonathan kissed for the first time, searing and absolute, but a lot of it scattered across their lives in small moments, like the sun blinking from a shattered mirror.

Cooking and eating meals together in the kitchen downstairs. Commemoration Week and its formal balls, enjoyed until the small hours of the morning, their shared secret warm in her chest. Chatting with Tom as they both work on the patch of garden behind the house (the chive and rosemary are coming along nicely). Learning how to play poker with Jonathan, and struggling not to laugh at his dismay the first time she lays down a straight flush against his three of a kind.

The quiet heart of the night, when the world is blue and soft and smells like her lovers’ skins.

Every now and then Elizabeth wakes up in the small hours between ‘late’ and ‘early’ and lets quiet snoring lull her back to sleep. Most of the time the two boys sleep in her bed, the largest in the house; sometimes it’s just Tom, sometimes it’s just Jonathan. Sometimes it’s just her, and she sinks back into sleep to the scents of them – cologne, soap, the hint of musk – clinging to the sheets and the phantom feel of their arms around her.

💜 ^^

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favourite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Right now, and to nobody’s surprise at all, my favourite character to write for is Jonathan Carnahan from the Mummy duology films. And no, that choice was made for me in the summer of 2003 when I rented the DVDs and watched the films in English for the first time. I fell hard for that sticky-fingered dork back then and writing for him (dialogue and story/narration) remains an absolute delight ^^

[morganmaietto]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Thank you for the tag @freedominique!

What motivates you to write?

I really love the feeling of bringing worlds and characters to life.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud of/happy with. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

My wip: A Hint of Rosemary

I walked past the three tables set up in the middle of the room. It has hickory flooring to complement the plain seafoam green wallpaper Sage had put up. Three nice black pendant lights hung one in the middle of the room, to the left of the room and to the right of the room. I went up to the pastry display and saw a few cakes, cupcakes, and cookies in the window. One was labeled in green “pumpkin cakes” for the cupcakes along with your standard chocolate and vanilla ones with different colored frosting and some had sprinkles while others didn’t. More seasonal pumpkin cakes and cookies with a variety of flavors in each category.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, just in the kitchen getting a batch of pumpkin muffins out of the oven. Oh, it’s just you.”

I couldn’t tell if that was disgust or relief.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

Monnie she's just a really positive person no matter the circumstances.

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I really like writing in general, but I really like making characters.

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I think I'm getting better at worldbuilding and describing scenes.

What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

I really like all the tag games that I have been a part of and the community in general. Everyone I've met has been nice and supportive of each other.

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I use google docs, I hope to one day find something else to use though, I can't find anything that's free (broke as heck rn.)

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

If this counts, I made a map on inkarnate (thanks verbawriting!) for my DND story on my second blog. It just helped me with visualization on where everything is.

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters: @axl-ul, @cee-grice, @verba-writing, @freedominique

[morgans-sideblog]

My Main Focus

My two projects I am working on right now are A Hint of Rosemary and my DnD wips (character intros coming up soon.)

Writing chapter two of A Hint of Rosemary and working oon worldbuilding of the DnD story. I'm almost finished with the worldbuilding part. More information to come!

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

Our absolutely amazing pal and fellow smutketeer @peetabreadgirl has a birthday on February 23rd. @xerxia31 and I were wondering if you'd be willing to accept a submission from us in her honoUr?

Happy Birthday @peetabreadgirl! By special request, Here’s a birthday drabble crafted just for you!

Biggest Fan

AN – Happy Birthday PBG! This is part 1 of 2 because your birthday is too special to cram all into one day!

Mesdames et messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît. Les passagers de la vol Air Canada 8637 arrivent à la gare vingt-quatre.

Peeta Mellark bobs up on the balls of his feet, eager to see around the crowd of tired commuters coming in on the flight from Montreal to Quebec city. Just a few more minutes and he’ll finally lay eyes on the infamous KatsEye, the best beta in the Avengers fandom.

And his best friend. Possibly the love of his life, but hey, he figures he probably should lay eyes on her in real life before he declares his undying devotion.

The crowd is thinning a bit now as the business crowd moves toward the airport doors, a sea of suits and muttered French. He checks his phone. Her text had said she was near the back of the plane. Surely she’ll be out soon.

KatI’m wearing an orange sweater.

When he looks up again, he sees her coming through the gate. Her aviator glasses are perched on her head and her hair is tied up in a side braid that spills over her shoulder onto the gorgeous coral sweater she’s wearing. It causes her olive skin to glow even though he can tell she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup.

His artistic sensibilities practically giggle at the idea that she’d consider the shade to be orange. It’s softer, more muted; kind of like a sunset at the end of a sultry summer’s day.

Regardless, it’s his new favourite colour.

When he notices her scowling as she scans the crowd for him, he uses his free hand to hold up the little sign he made: KATNISS EVERDEEN. It’s her real name, what her friends and family back in Texas call her. Frankly, it’s what what everyone who isn’t an Avengers fan calls her, but in his mind, she’s always Kat.

Her frown vanishes when she spots his sign and she moves toward him, offering a nervous smile. “Cap? Is that you?“ Her southern drawl lilting over his pseudonym delights him.

“Hi Kat.” He offers her a smile that he knows will never convey just how happy he is to see her. “Welcome to Canada.” Her cheeks pinken.

Damn. He knew she was pretty, but that little one centimetre by one centimetre picture on her Google Docs avatar wasn’t big enough to tell him the whole truth. His Kat is beautiful. More than that, really. She’s fucking radiant.

He reaches out to hug her and realizes halfway there that he’s a strange man in a strange place and a hug might not be a welcome gesture. Instead his arm dangles awkwardly in mid air. “Can I, uh, take your bag?”

She clutches the strap of her carry-on and insists that she’s got it.

“Oh. Um, I wasn’t sure if you’d have warm gear, so my sister-in-law loaned me her Canada Goose coat.” He passes over the bright red parka with the fur trimmed hood and she accepts it solemnly with a whispered “Thanks.”

“They’re down-filled,” he explains, “Those coats, I mean. It should keep you nice and warm when we’re at le Carnaval tomorrow.”

Katniss strokes the fur on the parka’s hood and just nods.

They settle into an awkward silence and he does his best to hold his disappointment at bay. He’s never met a woman who has captured his attention quite the way Kat has. His day is not complete until they’ve hashed out the latest fandom drama and she’s stolen all of this extra words or scolded him for using the passive voice. But, they’re of one mind more often than not. He trusts her exclusively with the inner-workings of his imagination. He offers her his soul, naked and raw on the page, and she heals it, clothes it and sends it out to the world. How is it that now that they’re face to face, they can’t even string ten words together to make a sentence?

The luggage carousel jerks into gear and they move toward it in unison. A tired sigh slips through Katniss’s lips. She’s been travelling since sun-up and changed planes three times just to get there. The journey made Peeta’s eight-hour drive from Toronto today, including the harrowing trip through the tunnel in Montreal, seem like a stroll in the park.

Before long, her suitcase comes into view and when she moves to pick it up, Peeta snatches it off the conveyer belt and tugs out the handle. He resists the urge to apologize.

“Your hands are full already. Let’s go find the car,” and he drags the rolling bag behind him. As they stroll toward the parkade that is connected to the airport, Peeta alternates between trying navigate the crowd and admiring Katniss’s profile. He thinks it may have been sculpted by fairies. Her cheekbones are high and delicate; her nose, straight and slightly turned up, and her jaw slopes gently downward into a chin that’s just soft enough to prevent it from being labelled as pointed. When his thoughts start to trend toward how his lips would cruise along that jaw to the hollow of her throat, he reverts his attention forward.

“You should probably put the coat on,” he recommends at the door and when it opens, allowing in a gust of winter air, Katniss shivers and drops her bag, quickly tucking herself into the coat. Once she’s bundled up, they pass through the sliding glass doors and continue on their way.

“It’s over here on the left,” he directs, wishing he’d thought to take her hand as they left the terminal. He fumbles in his pocket for the key fob, finally managing to unlock the trunk of his father’s crossover.

“A BMW,” Katniss observes, her eyes wide.

“My dad’s,” he explains, hefting her suitcase into the trunk beside his dufflebag. “It’s better on gas than my Jeep.”

The trunk door lowers automatically and Peeta follows Katniss around to the passenger’s side, reaching around her to hold the door. Her expression is the picture of surprise, but she says nothing and slides into her seat. He closes the door behind her and circles back around to the driver’s side. When he presses the button to start the car, he notices Katniss stroking the leather of her seat and admiring the stitching on the leader dash.

“A big step up from my shitty Corolla,” she mutters.

He grins at her as he backs the car out of its spot and aims it for the exit. “My folks bought me my Jeep in high school. It’s kind of a beast now, but it still gets me around, so I’m not ready to part with the old girl.”

Katniss’s lips press together and he wonders what’s going through her mind. “You work for your father,” she recalls. “I’m sure you told me that.”

Peeta nods, piloting the car onto the Autoroute that will take them into the old city and the two-bedroom apartment they’d booked. “We own a chain of bakeries throughout southern Ontario. Dad runs the head office. I work there. My brother Rye is in charge of operations at the biggest bakery, the one in Toronto. My other brother, Bran, has human resources.”

Katniss’s eyes flick over to him. “I thought you were a baker, not an executive.”

He laughs. “I am. I bake all day. I’m in charge of the company’s concept kitchen.” He slows the vehicle as they move further into busy downtown traffic on their way to the old city. “I’ve been experimenting with cheese buns lately. I’ve got this recipe with a hint of rosemary that…” He looks over at Katniss to find her observing him strangely. “What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone get so excited about bread.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she tries not to laugh. Her head falls back against the headrest. “Okay, so I’ve been travelling for the last 10 hours. Tell me what’s been going on in our little corner of the Internet.”

He’s grateful for an easy topic to fill the thirty minute drive with. They chat about the fandom all of the time, it’s familiar. “Remarkably, our absence has not been noted,” he says with a laugh. “Let me think. Um, mega-buckylover published the prologue of a new wip.

“Blackwidowdoesnotfollowback just posted a new chapter of that college au she’s working on. Something about Cap and Peggy and a pool table.”

Kat hums beside him. “Next chapter is even hotter,” she confides.

“Right,“ he concedes. “Almost forgot she’s my primary competition for access to the best beta in our fandom.”

She rolls her eyes. “Careful, CaptainAmellarka, or I’ll be forced to steal your U’s again.”

He snorts. “Paws off my superfluous U’s. Oh – Glimmer and Clove are at it again.”

Katniss shakes her head. “They’re going to divide the fandom if they don’t cut it out.”

Glimmer, whose actual handle was @peggywithmoresparkle, and Clove, who used @therealpepperpotts, were in a constant battle over whose fave was the true leader of the fandom. Sick of typing out their names, while they made snarky remarks about their diva-like behaviour, Peeta and Kat had renamed them, Glimmer – because Peggy Carter was too cool to need bling; and Clove – because pepper is a perfectly useful spice and cloves are one only useful about once a year.

Katniss leans forward, captivated, as they start to move into Vieux Quebec where the snow-covered 400-year-old stone walls and cobblestone streets leave every visitor entranced. “My God, it looks like something out of Beauty and the Beast,” she marvels.

“Surprised?”

She snorts. “No more surprised than when I discovered CaptainAmellarka, my favourite fanfic author in the entire fandom, was a Canadian.”

“Hey,” he defends, “They didn’t make Dudley Do-Right an Avenger, so what’s an earnest, well-meaning Canadian boy supposed to do?”

That gets a laugh out of her. “You know, I haven’t seen a single moose or a mountie anywhere.”

“Only in every souvenir shop.” Peeta replies with a grin. He turns up a small side street and parks in front of a three story building built of stone. Quaint blue shutters frame each window and matching boxes sit primly underneath, primed to overflow with flowers in summer. For now, they are filled with twinkle lights and greenery.

“Here we are,” he announces cheerfully, popping out of the car. Together, they approach the house and Peeta raps smartly on the door.

“Oui?” A woman with spiky black hair answers the door. Her makeup is perfect, but her matte red lips are twisted into a frown.

“Madame Johanna?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Bonjour madame. Je m’appelle Peeta Mellark. Nous avons loué votre appartement pour la fin de semaine.”

Her frown deepens and turns into a scowl. “Hein? Non, non, non. Impossible!” Madame Johanna’s hands fly into the air. Peeta feels Katniss take a step back, overwhelmed by their animated hostess. “Mes visiteurs pour cette fin de semaine sont déjà arrivés.”

“Peeta, what’s wrong?”

“There’s some sort of mix-up,” he translates. “She wasn’t expecting us. There’s someone else in the apartment.”

He turns back to the little French fireball guarding the entrance to their rooms and tries to turn on the charm. “Madame, pourriez-vous vérifier encore, s’il vous plaît?”

“Tabernacle!” The door slams in their faces. Peeta turns to Katniss and sees her face etched in concern.

“She’s going to check,” he explains. The door whips open again.

“Vous êtes booké pour la semaine prochaine.”

Booked in for next week? Shit. He’d been so careful when he made the online booking. “Est-ce que-”

“Non,” she interrupts. Their would-be hostess seems to have had enough. “Etes-vous fou? C'est le Carnaval! Vous auriez de la chance si vous trouvez quelque chose dans la ville!”

He is truly fucked. Kat is exhausted and now they have nowhere to stay. Johanna must see the look on his face, because she relents slightly.

“Mon amie, Effie, est la gérante à l'Hôtel vieux Québec. Peut-être elle aura quelque chose. Mais à la dernière minute, ses chambres sont coûteuses.”

Peeta nods grimly. “Merci madame.” The door again slams in their faces. He turns slowly to Katniss, whose eyes are wide and wary. “So,” he starts, running his free hand through his hair. “How do you feel about a little adventure?”

She scowls, but says nothing as he leads them back to his father’s SUV.

He explains the situation to Katniss while simultaneously scrolling through his phone to look up the hotel Madame Johanna recommended. “I’ve heard of the place she mentioned,” he says. “It’s nice, I think. If nothing else, we can be sure the bathroom will be super clean.” He can hear Kat’s little huffs of frustration, but he tries to paint it for her as a good thing, even if he’s worried sick himself. Hundreds of thousands of tourists descend on Québec for Carnaval every year, finding a room anywhere is a longshot at best. Effie’s hotel might be their only chance.

Google says L’Hôtel vieux Québec is only a dozen blocks from Madame Johanna’s apartment, but the drive feels like it takes forever. A tense silence fills the car, and Peeta gets more and more anxious. He’s been looking forward to this trip for months, and already he’s screwed it up.

Thankfully, he needs all of his concentration to navigate the narrow, twisting streets of the old city. And trying to parallel park the Beemer next to the massive snowbanks makes him wish he’d brought his Jeep after all.

By the time they walk the couple of blocks from the street parking spot Peeta found to the hotel, Katniss is visibly shivering, in spite of the thick coat she’s wrapped in. He rushes her down the final few feet, a gentle hand on the small of her back.

The hotel looms above them, red brick and charmingly old like so much of the city, but obviously well-kept. The walkway has been cleared of ice and snow, and the awnings over the large front windows glow red in the setting sun.

When Peeta pulls the door open for Katniss, he can’t help but hold his breath. He really has no idea what he’ll do if this doesn’t pan out. He could take her back to Toronto for the weekend, but the prospect of another eight hours travelling might just make her decide to hop back on a plane for the warmth of Texas instead.

Katniss’s wide-eyed reaction to the lobby relaxes him just a little. In contrast to the exterior, the inside is bright and modern, with lots of stone and natural wood surfaces, and gorgeous local art on the walls. “Why don’t you sit down and warm up a little,” he says, pointing her towards the small lounge just off the lobby. “I’ll get us a couple of rooms.” Or at least, he hopes he will.

The concierge raises a brow askance when Peeta asks for two rooms and admits he has no reservations. “Mais monsieur,” he says. “Certainement vous savez que c'est Carnaval?” Yes, Peeta knows well that it’s Carnaval, and everyone in the city booked a place to stay months ago. He booked the apartment where they were supposed to be staying months ago himself. He still can’t figure out how he managed to mess up the dates when this weekend has been circled in red in his calendar since the moment he suggested it.

“Please,” Peeta says quietly, aware of Katniss sitting just on the other side of the large glass doors, her gaze flitting back and forth between the fireplace and the counter where he stands begging. The whole pathetic story spills out, the hours of travel, the wrong reservations, his desperation to salvage what he can of the weekend. “Madame Johanna,” he says, in a last-ditch effort, “Elle nous a dit que madame Effie pourrait nous aider?”

Recognition lights the attendant’s face. “Un moment, monsieur,” he says, then walks through a  door behind the counter.

When the door swings open again, Peeta does a double-take. The woman approaching him, talking a mile a minute as she does, is nothing like the elegantly modern man with whom he’d been speaking. With her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit, she looks like she’s from another planet. He sneaks a peek over at Katniss and can see her hiding a grin behind her hand.

The woman - Madame Effie Trinkett he thinks she says her name is - speaks in such rapidfire French that Peeta has trouble keeping up. His high school French is sufficient for getting by as a tourist, but it’s not strong enough to keep pace with the effervescent whirlwind in front of him, pink curls bobbing. “Un peu plus lentement s'il vous plaît,” he implores. Instead, she switches to heavily accented English.

“My dear friend Johanna telephoned me, told me of your situation tragique, truly star-crossed,” she says, and Peeta struggles not to roll his eyes. “I think we can help you, non? Flavius?” she trills, and the concierge reappears.

Ten minutes - and four hundred and eighty-eight dollars - later, Peeta is clutching a keycard and breathing normally for the first time all day. They have a place to stay. One room, the only room left, but Flavius assured him the room has both a bed and something Effie called a petit divan. He thinks that’s a couch. Peeta is more than happy to sleep there, if it means saving the weekend with Kat. The weekend he’s been dreaming about since, while they were brainstorming winter soldier AU plotlines, he tentatively suggested setting their story in Canada, at le Carnaval d’hiver du Québec, the largest winter festival in the world.

He walks over to Katniss and flashes the keycard. She grins, and his heart soars.

His relief lasts only as long as it takes to climb the stairs to room twelve, their assigned space. The room, while beautiful, opulent really, is tiny. And the couch is little more than an oversized chair.

Peeta can’t look at Katniss, can’t stand to see her disappointment. Or worse, her anger. “I’ll, uh. I’ll go get our bags,” he says, then bolts back out of the room and onto the street.

Stupid, stupid, stupid echos through his head, a litany. He’s so pissed off about the lodging situation, so damned mad that their original plan got fucked up when he’s certain he booked the right weekend that he has half a mind to storm back to Madame Johanna’s.

Peeta pouts the block-and-a-half to his car and the block-and-a-half back. Everything is so completely messed up. Sharing a room was certainly not in their plans. Regardless of how he feels about Katniss, he’s a gentleman. But how’s it going to look to her when she trusted him to make all of the reservations, to deal with all of the people in a language she doesn’t even understand? Of course she’s going to think he’s an idiot, or worse, that he’s lured her here only to take advantage of her. He’s blown his chance with Katniss, and he’s probably also lost himself one of his best friends in the world.

It’s with trepidation that he pushes the room door open. But he finds the room empty, the door to the ensuite shut tightly, the faint sound of water running behind it.

He leaves her suitcase next to the bed, beside her carry on, and tucks his own beside the petit divan - that means loveseat, he remembers, not couch. Of-fucking-course. Now that he’s not running away, he can appreciate how cool, if small, the room really is. Hardwood flooring, exposed brick, and a gas fireplace across from the bed. He flips that on, thinking that Katniss will appreciate the little bit of extra heat.

The fire is crackling merrily when the bathroom door opens and Katniss treads back into the bedroom. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed and he feels like the worst kind of heel.

“Kat? What’s wrong?”

She shrugs and then sniffs. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m just tired I think.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it. Look, I’m so sorry about the screw up at the apartment, alright? I don’t know how it happened. I swear I checked the date three times before I booked. I won’t fit on the loveseat, but I’ll sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace or the bathtub or something. And you can-”

“Cap.” She holds up her hand to stop him. “You paid a fortune for this room, I saw the bill when we came upstairs. I can fit on the loveseat. You shouldn’t have to give up the bed, not for someone you don’t particularly like.”

There have been few times in Peeta Mellark’s life when he’s been struck nearly speechless, but this is one of them. “You, you think… what?” he sputters. “Kat, you have no idea. “I’ve been waiting for this day for months! And now you’re finally here. And you’re just so amazing.”

She looks doubtful, confused, the redness of her eyes only enhancing their stunning silver colour. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, and that he’s somehow made her believe otherwise guts him.

“It’s true,” he insists. “Although why you haven’t run away screaming back to Texas after all the ways I’ve screwed up is beyond me.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know why you think you’ve screwed up.”

Maybe it would be easier if he ticks them off for her one by one. “Lemme see. There’s whatever happened with the reservations-”

“That bitch was double-booked! On purpose!” Katniss bursts out. “She totally lied to you and you were incredibly polite. Ick. It was so Canadian of you. I wanted to shoot her in the eye with one of my arrows.”

Wait. She shoots? He wonders at that a bit and then continues. “I couldn’t get us a room with two beds.”

“You got us the last room in the city, paid a fortune for it, and now you’re refusing to sleep in the bed.”

He ignores that one. “Then there was that moment at the airport when I tried to hug you and you clearly didn’t want me to.”

“What if I did want you to!” she bursts out, her eyes shining. Realizing what she’s said, Katniss flushes and stares at her toes. “I’m not good at this people thing, Cap.”

“Peeta,” he corrects gently. “Please, Kat… Katniss, I mean. Call me Peeta.”

“Peeta.” The way her accent lingers over the vowel sounds in his name causes him to slip even deeper into love with her. “When you reached out to hug me I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

For the first time since she stepped off the airplane almost two hours ago, Peeta feels a bit of hope bloom in his heart, as warm and gentle as a Texas spring night. ��Could we start again, maybe?”

Katniss laughs a little hysterically and nods, even as she swipes at her eyes before wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Hi Katniss. I’m Peeta. I’m a big goof, clearly-” She chuckles. “But I am so happy you’re here. Thank you for being brave enough to come all the way up here to meet me.”

The smile he receives is more blinding than any dawn, more beautiful than any sunset.“ Hi Peeta,” she answers, and holds out her arms to him. He scoops her up, clasping her tiny frame against his broad chest and spinning her around, just once. A laugh bubbles from within her. She squeezes back and smiles up at him. “I was glad to make the trip. I wanted to get to know you for real.”

It feels so impossibly good to hold Katniss in his arms, Peeta knows he won’t be the first to let go. But eventually, she steps back and he releases her. “So what now?“ she asks, and her stomach growls.

“Sounds like it’s time to find something to eat.” 

Katniss nods, looking lighter than she has all evening. “I haven’t eaten since my layover at O’Hare,” she admits. “But, do you think maybe…” she starts, then shrugs and looks down shyly.

“Anything,” Peeta says. “Tell me, this is your vacation after all.”

“Well I wasn’t kidding about being tired. I left my house at five this morning.” Katniss glances at the clock beside the bed. “That’s nearly fourteen hours ago.”

“Thirteen,” Peeta snickers. “You’re not in the cactus timezone anymore. This is igloo time here.” Katniss rewards his teasing with a smile, a real smile, and it leaves him breathless. He can barely tear his eyes away. “How do you feel about pizza?”

Though he could order cardboard pizza from any one of the hundreds of shops in the old city, Peeta figures food is his chance to really impress Katniss. He leaves her to rest and freshen up while he makes the ten minute drive to La Boîte à Pain, home to the absolute best pizza in the entire province. He already knows what she likes; mushrooms, pepperoni and bacon.

It takes a little longer, but her groan of delight when he hands her the pizza box is worth it. “This smells incredible,” Katniss says from her perch, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

She’s changed clothing, the gorgeous coral sweater and slim jeans have been swapped out for yoga pants, and a t-shirt that clings to her slight curves. She almost looks happy. Peeta starts to move over to the loveseat, but she shakes her head. “Sit up here with me. We’ll have a picnic.”Peeta sets out the paper plates, napkins and bottles of water that came with their pizza before toeing off his shoes to join her. He grins as he watches her paw through the other bag he’s brought back. “What in God’s name is this?” she asks, waving a container. She flips back the styrofoam lid and sniffs cautiously

“That, my American friend, is poutine, practically the official food of la belle province du Quebec.” Peeta hands her a fork, but she doesn’t take it, continuing to stare. “It’s french fries, gravy and cheese curds.”

Her nose wrinkles adorably. “You eat this stuff? It looks like dog food.”

“I don’t just eat it, I love it,” Peeta says, laughing.

“Well there’s no accounting for taste.”

Peeta spears a serving of poutine onto his fork and takes a big bite. The fries are perfectly cooked; the rich, savoury gravy still warm. The salty curds have begun to melt, but they still make a satisfying squeak as he chews.  “This is possibly the best poutine I’ve ever had,” he enthuses.

Katniss takes a healthy bite of her pizza. “It’s all yours, big guy.”

“That’s what she said!”

Katniss groans.

“Seriously Katniss, this is a Canadian tradition. Don’t knock it until you try it.” He waves a dripping forkful under her nose until she relents. The sight of her wrapping those lush peach lips around his fork is so unintentionally erotic that he can’t blink. But then her face screws up in revulsion.

“Oh my God, that’s nasty,” she says, reaching for her water bottle. Peeta laughs hard enough to shake the entire bed. “Y’all really eat that? You’re not just pranking me?”

Peeta tries to affect an affronted expression, but he can’t stop giggling. Katniss laughs too, and they fall into the comfortable banter that they’ve always enjoyed, only now it’s face to face. And it’s incredible. Seeing her expressions - how her face lights up like dawn breaking when she’s excited, the little crease that appears between her eyes when she’s skeptical. The way she chews on her bottom lip when she’s pensive. He’d already been falling in love, but having her here now, live and three-dimensional and real… he’s a goner.

The pizza box lays empty, except for crusts and stray bits of mushroom, and they both lean against the headboard, chatting. But Katniss’s eyes are heavy from her long trip, and Peeta too is feeling the effects of the drive and excitement and stress of the day. “We, ah. We should probably get some sleep if we want to make an early start tomorrow.” Katniss nods, and Peeta thinks she looks just a little reluctant to end their evening. It reminds him off all of the nights they’d spent instant messaging while he’d been lying in bed, so exhausted he’d continually drop his phone on his face, and yet still not want to sign off.

Peeta takes the remnants of their meal out of the room and down the hall to the recycling station. When he returns, Katniss has started making up the petit divan. “Katniss, no,” he says. “You can’t sleep there, you’d be all twisted like a pretzel and I’m not going to be responsible for wrecking your back.” He tries for levity, tries to push back that anxiety about having screwed up so much, but he thinks she hears it anyway by the little line that again appears between her stunning silver eyes. “Please,” he says softly, tugging a pillow from her hands and tossing it onto the floor in front of the fireplace. “Take the bed. Don’t make me beg.”

Something flares in her eyes before she simply nods.

But when Peeta emerges from the bathroom, teeth brushed and curls still damp, Katniss is tucked into bed and all of the bedding is gone from the floor. She meets his confused expression with something that looks like defiance. “Look C- Peeta, it’s ridiculous for either of us to sleep on the floor after what you paid for this room. And this bed is huge.” He’d argue that queen-sized isn’t exactly massive, though she certainly looks tiny nestled in the crisp white sheets. “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta winces at the words, the girl of his dreams has just invited him to share a bed with her - however platonically - and still he feels compelled to be a gentleman and try to dissuade her. But if there’s anything he’s learned about KatsEye; passionate fangirl, smutketeer and ass-kicking beta extraordinaire, it’s that she never does anything she doesn’t want to. She’s strong and loyal, she’s the peanut butter in their friendship sandwich, the glue that keeps them together.

“Get in, goof,” Katniss grins, throwing back the corner of the comforter.

Though there’s a full twelve inches between them as they lie facing each other in the darkness, Peeta is struck by her immediacy, her presence. The sound of her soft breaths in the hush of the small room is soothing, comforting. It feels like such a luxury, drifting to sleep with Katniss right there, right beside him.

Katniss shifts, then Peeta feels her small, cool hand grasp his own under the sheets, their fingers entwine almost automatically. “I’m so glad you’re here, Katniss,” he whispers sleepily.

“Me too.”

[morganmaietto]

Happy STS! Your characters are going on TV! Are they invited to a talk show, entering a talent competition, testing their survival skills, or is their trial live on the news? That's up to you. 🙃

Hi happy STS!

Since "A Hint of Rosemary" is a paranormal investigation story, I think they would test their survival skills.

Rose is the one who would plan everything out while Sage and Aster are out gathering food and wood.

(I will post a little about each character later on I don't think I have anything about them on here yet.)

[morganmaietto]

Word find tag

Thanks for the tag @winterandwords!

My words are grow, grey (or gray), grin, and grip

Gray:

It hadn’t changed a bit, gray roof, three windows put together on each side, it had dark brown siding. The front porch was medium sized and had a few bird feeders hung up randomly around it and comfy looking chairs on it looking out at the Sugar Maple trees surrounding the property. (A Hint of Rosemary)

Grow: She even had something horrible happen to her involving her powers so she has grown to resent her *spoiler*.

Grin: I couldn't find one sorry.

Grip: I couldn't find one for this one too sorry.

[morganmaietto]

Happy WBW! Today's is incredibly niche, but what does your world's gratitude look like? Are large acts of thanks required or scorned? Do most people find it polite to express thanks? Or, if that's a little much, how about your characters? What are their feelings toward giving and receiving gratitude?

Happy WBW!

I'd say it's all pretty much the same as our world, I am basing this story in real places, Holderness New Hampshire (I think only in chapter one) and in Maine (I'm making up a town for this part.) I read in an article that people who live in Holderness are nice, it's like a village, so I do believe they would express thanks, maybe even hold a town meeting for the person they are thanking.

I don't know about Maine yet, I'm not planning on making the town a small town like Holderness is, so I don't know about that one yet.

(Sorry your asks took a bit)