the annual sapphic winter fest is back! here's all the info you need to know. all relevant links are embedded in purple .
the discord server is a great place to start when joining this fest. all mods are easily available as well as other participants . there’s a channel for the timeline , the prompts and all the links to our socials.
here are the requirements/rules ...
be over thirteen
have an ao3 account
no nsfw content above a mature rating. this includes underage/pedo/noncon/incest fiction
no rpf (real person fiction)
your work must be a minimum of 1000 words
here’s a small FAQ to get you caught up with this year’s fest :
how do i sign up? please fill in the google doc form in the discord server after the 20th September
do i have to be sapphic to participate? not at all ! all genders / sexualities are encouraged to join the fest , however the ship must be sapphic.
do genderswaps count? of course !
what happens if i miss a deadline? don't worry if you miss a deadline . speak to one of the mods and we can arrange for your fic to still be included
where will my fic be posted? works will be posted on the sapphic fest tumblr and twitter as well as the ao3 collection, which are all pinned in the discord server
the timeline will be on a separate post , or you can look in the discord to see it now !
Summary: Nico is invited to the Nishikino New Year's Eve party. Snacks happen.
New Year's Eve By The Fire
Nishikino Maki wasn’t nervous. She’d been trained in the ins and outs and emergencies of hosting since she was old enough to curtsy, smile and point people toward a bathroom. And so many of the guests were familiar faces from two decades of parties, mixed with newer friends like Umi Sonoda and Kotori Minami. Tonight, Yazawa Nico would be added to that list. But Maki wasn’t nervous, her mask had just settled on her nose wrong, hair caught up in fabric knot at the back.
Nico had returned her tuxedo jacket, but Maki didn’t need it. Her Nordstrom’s shopper had messaged about the new Louis Vuitton x Yayoi Kusama arrivals and Maki had rushed to put together an outfit, mixing the Psychedelic Flowers suit with the Painted Dots shirt, the Infinity dots tie and gray beanie, and very kicky black loafers with metallic dots all along the sides. A domino mask to finish off the outfit and Maki was ready for a heist film. The outfit had received compliments from all the early party goers, but as 9 o’clock and Nico’s promised arrival neared, Maki did a quick check. Everything still snapped. Good. Nico seemed to care a lot about fashion. Checking her hat brim roll up in the hall mirror, Maki grinned. And with perfect timing, her phone pinged.
Nico: About to make an entrance. Don’t miss it.
Maki walked up to the door as Nico entered, cropped leather bomber jacket over a pink crinoline skater dress, black tights, pink lace up combat boots, pink knitted hat with a bobble bouncing merrily.
“Maki!” Nico waved, dodging around the crowd clustered at the door. “Wow. Kotori said you were going with the Yayoi Kusama, but damn that looks so much better on you than on the screen. Spin for Nico.”
“You forgot your mask.”
Nico sighed, shaking her head, reaching in to her pocket for a sparkly pink and silver mask, “Nico wanted to make sure you recognized her.”
“Can I take your coat?” Host instincts kicking in.
“Nah, Nico still hasn’t warmed up.” Nico looked around, “You could point Nico to food or something. Do rich people eat at parties?”
“Of course.”
“Nico’s only ever seen you eat pizza and donuts and this doesn’t look like a pizza and donut crowd.”
Maki chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”
“So Nico gets appetizer sized pizzas and donut holes.”
“It would be bruschetta and struffoli, but my parents went with a fish theme.” Maki stopped, to glance down at Nico, “You do like fish? Or I could order that pizza.”
“On New Year’s Eve? Nico doesn’t want to make any enemies in the restaurant business. Caviar it is.”
Maki saw Nico shiver and with a quick hand steered her to the chef’s station, grabbing a plate and filling it with salmon skewers and salmon blini before handing it to Nico.
“Nico approves.” Idly chewing her way up the salmon skewer, Nico drifted through the party, nodding at everyone who glanced her way like she was hosting, not Maki, who just followed in her wake.
“Maki! Nico!” Umi’s voice rang across the room. She and Kotori were talking together near the main Christmas tree, still twinkling with its white and gold lighting and decorating scheme. Both had chosen black dresses, flared at the waist, Umi’s with a hint of blue at the waist and hem; Kotori’s with gold thread striping the bodice. Their masks were black and feathery.
Kotori stepped forward, her hand sliding up Maki’s forearm, “How lovely. Just enough silk.”
Umi’s hand quickly offered itself as an alternative to Maki’s arm. Kotori linked their fingers. “Your tailor did an excellent job. The shoulders are perfect.”
Maki shrugged.
Nico held out a salmon skewer. “I think your chef did better. Try this. The spicing is sublime. Nico wants the recipe.”
Maki leaned forward. She’d been pacing and talking and making sure to complete everything on the list her parents had given her. She didn’t remember what time she’d eaten that morning.
Watching as Maki swallowed eagerly, Nico decided to go back for a second run, “You need food more than Nico does. Be right back.”
“Where’s Honoka?” Maki asked.
“Navy Pier.” Umi chuckled, “Honoka believes New Year's Eve is for making new friends at the largest party you can find while you watch something drop and many things explode colorfully and everything happens at the loudest volume possible.”
Kotori tched, “She likes to wear jeans.”
“Seems like the waste of a chance to dress up.”
“Jeans aren’t bad.” Umi fidgeted with her skirt self consciously.
“Oh no, Umi-dah, on New Year’s, you’re mine.” Kotori wrapped her arm around Umi’s, “You look too delicious not to wrap up in something dashing.”
Maki started to look for Nico, wanting to avoid a blush like the one coloring Umi’s cheeks.
“Maki!” Her mother was suddenly at her side, maskless, “Introduce me to your friends. Are they music majors?”
“Mama, this is Umi Sonoda. We are both in the Film Society.”
Kotori slid forward, her hand almost touching the fabric at Mrs. Nishikino’s hip, “I’m Kotori Minami and that Tadashi Shoji lapel dress is extraordinary.”
Nico had wandered back, carrying a plate piled with dumplings and wonton packets.
“Nico.” Kotori pulled Nico in, “Wouldn’t Eli look so good in something like that, in the confrontation scene, against the city lights?”
Nico tilted her head, considering, handing off the plate to Maki, who watched awkwardly as Nico and Kotori checked out her mother.
“Below the knee instead of floor length and white.” Nico decided.
“No, an even longer train. So it sweeps.” Kotori gestured with her hand. Umi and Maki exchanged a glance, Nico hummed noncommittally, then noticed Maki wasn’t eating and tapped under the plate.
“Nico got that for you. Try the crab rangoons. Another spicing masterpiece.”
Maki’s mother chuckled, “I’m glad you approve of the catering, I’m Maki’s mother.” She extended a hand, which Nico shook.
“Yazawa Nico, theatre major and future EGOT winner. I’m working with your daughter on a indie short.” Nico glanced around, “Thank you for inviting me to this party. Your home is lovely.”
“This movie keeps bringing new friends into Maki’s circle,” Maki’s mama leaned in to her taller daughter, “I’m glad. She’s a bit of a recluse.”
“MAMA!”
“Don’t forget to kiss someone at midnight.” Maki’s mama quickly pecked a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, “I am very glad all of you could attend. If you need anything, I’m sure Maki will take care of you. See you around.”
###
Music. A quintet. Slow music to dance to, jazz, sprightly classical and in this phase of the party, nearing midnight, some interesting arrangements of songs you wouldn’t think could be done by a piano, strings, and a trumpet, but there it was, Taylor Swift’s “Snow On The Beach” capping off a half hour of unexpected pop covers. Umi was holding out her hand for Kotori to join her in the crowd of dancing guests. Nico was singing along, sotto voce, leaning against a bar, wanting a karaoke room so she could do her best performance and let out some of the energy she’d been building up, meeting people, telling them about her upcoming part in Goncharov and the time she was spending developing musical skits for this year’s Waa-Mu show. Nico wasn’t sure where Maki had gone to until she saw her stand up from behind the piano, red hair flying loose, as another woman took over the bench. Nico leaned over, grabbed a bottled sparkling water, lime twisted, and headed toward the pianist, who was on a trajectory out of the room.
“That was an amazing “Snow On The Beach.” Did you do the arrangements?” Nico fell in step next to Maki, wondering where the taller woman was headed to. “I grabbed you a water.”
“Thanks.” Maki twisted off the cap and drank down half as they exited the room, walking down a hall Nico hadn’t been in before. They passed several doors until Maki reached to open one, holding it for Nico. A small room, sectional couch in front of a fireplace, stereo and speakers on the side, with albums underneath, and a mini fridge next to that.
Maki finished the water, dropped it in a box, crouched to pick a couple of albums, stacked them on the record player, and shrugged out of her jacket, rolling up her sleeves. Then she untied her mask. Nico was still in the bomber, but at some point she'd shoved her mask and hat in her pockets. Her dress was sleeveless and the party temperature had been keeping on the chilly side, but in this smaller room, Nico was starting to feel warm.
“Sit.” Maki pointed. “Want a water, juice, might have beer in here.”
“Water’s fine.”
Maki handed Nico a sparkling water, lime twist, and stretched out on the chaise portion of one leg of the sectional.
“You talking about Taylor Swift and noir the other day made me curious so I listened to her albums. Couldn’t get “Snow On The Beach” out of my head. The start is so…ethereal, like if snowflakes were these delicate windchimes.” The stereo started to play that very part. “I skipped.”
“That’s fine.” Nico glanced at the turntable, “Are you a vinyl nerd?”
Maki shrugged, “It’s more aesthetics. I like the weight. And the full sized cover art. It’s a…” Maki considered, “a ritual, sliding the album out of the sleeve, holding it gently, placing it carefully, dropping the needle, hearing the notes lift off the grooves. Music should always be a ritual.”
“Nico gets that.”
“Unless it’s play.” Maki sat up, hands holding what were probably imaginary drumsticks, ready to join in. “That’s better than listening.”
“Nico’s been listening all night. Playing is more fun. Singing is even more fun for Nico.”
Maki, amethyst eyes serious, nodded, “I get that.” She bounced up, pulled the arm back as soon as the song was over, flipped open a panel to reveal a laptop, and started typing, “What do you want to sing. I’ll load up the karaoke track.”
That was easy, Nico thought, stay on theme. “Let’s start at the start.”
Maki glanced over her shoulder, “Meet me at midnight?”
Nico winked and the music started.
“Staring at the ceiling with you
Oh, you don't ever say too much
And you don't really read into
My melancholia
I been under scrutiny (Yeah, oh, yeah)
You handle it beautifully (Yeah, oh, yeah)
All this shit is new to me (Yeah, oh, yeah)
I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me
Surreal
I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal
The 1950s shit they want from me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze”
After “Lavendar Haze”, Maki had queued up “Purple Rain,” which had led to Nico jumping all over the couch while Maki played drums on a cushion to “The Glamorous Life.”
Nico pulled out two bottles of an orange-y juice thing and tossed one to Maki. She’d shed her bomber at the beginning of The Glamorous Life and was warm enough after all the dancing, but she could feel a chill cutting in the air.
“Does the fireplace work?”
“Sure. Are you getting cold?”
“Nico runs hot, but yeah.” Nico flumped on the sectional. Maki was suddenly behind her with an afghan.
“That should help while I get the fire going.”
“What time is it? Don’t you have to get back to the party?”
Maki shook her head, “My parents are used to me disappearing.”
Nico made a mental note. Introvert. Ditches parties.
“You should have a snack stash. For Nico.”
“For Nico?” Maki raised an eyebrow, “Will you be back?”
“‘ ‘s a decent stereo.”
Maki snorted, “It’s the best stereo in Chicago. I put it together myself.”
“Nerd. Nico does like the best though.”
Maki paused, “Did you want to go back to the party? Do the countdown, midnight thing…”
“Nah, it’s nice here. Nico wants a fire, not fireworks.”
“Me too.” Maki muttered, piling kindling, stacking logs, using a long lighter to spark a fire, then stepping back as the flames grew.
“No snack stash?” Nico whined hopefully. “C’mon, be a hostess with the mostess.”
Maki grinned, ‘Give me two minutes.”
Nico snuggled into the corner of the sectional, afghan pulled up around her, watching the flames lick over the logs. The door opened and as Maki stepped in, she heard the party crowd getting louder. Maki had an armful of boxes and bags: cinnamony brown sugar Poptarts and cereal, popcorn, mini cookies.
“Anything pink?”
Maki handed Nico a small container that said Old World Spumoni Gelato, “It’s got black cherries, does that count?”
“Nico can do cherries. Nico can do chocolate. But Nico needs a spoon.”
Maki handed Nico a rectangular shortbread cookie. “Use this. Tastes amazing.” Demonstrating by scraping off the top layer, Maki settled back on the sectional, happily opening a cereal box.
“Did you bring milk?”
Maki pulled two boxes out of her pants pockets.
“You’re too fashionable for an icebox, Nishikino. That’s a crime against those pants.” Nico laughed, scraping her own dose of chocolate cherry pistachio gelato with a shortbread plank.
“We missed midnight.” Maki said, her voice sad, but her eyes twinkling, The fire had begun to warm the room.
“We could fake it.”
“How?”
“Nico can count down from ten.”
“And then?” Maki’s question was hesitant, heavy in the air.
“More gelato and colorful musical segues. Nico’s not done for the night, you just fueled up her sugar tank.” Another cookie, even more gelato curled into a scoop on the end.
“Okay.”
Nico chomped, feeling the cold invigorate her, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!” Throwing off the afghan, Nico jumped up, bouncing and twirling on the sofa, arms thrown upward, shouting, “Happy New Year!!! Happy 2023 Chicago!!!” When she was sure she had Maki’s attention, Nico brought her hand to her mouth and quickly blew a kiss in the redhead’s direction. “There, you can tell your mother you got your kiss.” Nico bowed, amazed at her own performance, and took the orange juice-y thingie to switch for water. She was going to send Maki on a hot chocolate run pretty soon. That gelato was a tasty chill on the roof of her mouth that was not going away.
Maki hung over the back of the couch, watching Nico as she crouched in front of the mini fridge. When Nico glanced over, about to ask something, Maki frowned, curling a twist of hair.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Put on an album you like.”
“Are you ready for a new year full of K-pop?”
“Sure.”
“Can I pull the laptop out?”
“Why?”
“So we can watch the latest Inkigayo episode in front of this cozy fire.”
“Okay. But there’s a screen right here.” Maki pointed to the right of the fire.
“Laptops are cozier.”
“If you say so.”
“Nico does.”
Maki crunched her cereal while Nico set up the laptop between them, leaning in, legs stretched out to the side. The fire had achieved the quiet popping level of burn and Maki stretched out opposite Nico, their shoulders and heads meeting in the middle to watch the screen propped up on pillows.
“Ready? Nico knows this is going to change everything for you.”
Maki settled into a comfortable position. Just when the silence had gotten uncomfortable and Nico was about to hit play, Maki spoke softly, staring into the fire.
“Happy New Year, Nico. Thanks for being here.”
“It's nice here.” Nico said quickly and then the K-pop chatter started.
Not how Nico’s new year’s usually started, with a room full of dancing, yelling, playing and a face warmed with sibling kisses. But tonight, here with Maki, there was something new in the air. And Nico liked it.
A/N: The Week 8 @sapphicfest prompt was "curled by the fire" and I've been missing NicoMaki cozy content so here we are. Hope you enjoy.
Summary: Planning for Goncharov filming gets derailed by a Kpop discussion.
Key
@QueenofAllCups Nozomi Tojo
@On Point Eli Ayase
@SeaArrow Umi Sonoda
@FeatherTouch Kotori Minami
@No1Nico Yazawa Nico
@Nishikinoir Nishikino Maki
Holiday Plans
*@QueenofAllCups has started a TWIG chat with six members*
@QueenofallCups Everybody back from Thanksgiving; let’s get filmin’
@OnPoint I have so many Nutcracker rehearsals.
@Queenofallcups Nuts must be cracked
@No1Nico Take it to the private chat
@SeaArrow Did everyone get the script pages?
@QueenofAllCups I was breathless with suspense @SeaArrow you certainly know how to deny a girl pleasure
@SeaArrow ?!?!?!?!?!
@No1Nico Not everyone speaks perv, Perv
@Nishikinoir Why is your name No Nico
@No1Nico Number 1 Nico, god tier Nico Nico Ni
@Nishikinoir Hmmmmmmm
@Nishikinoir Why not NumberOneNico then
@No1Nico Too many characters, plus all the best names are a mix of letters and numbers
@Nishikinoir Not true
@No1Nico AKb48
@SeaArrow 2NE1
@FeatherTouch fromis_9
@No1Nico Twice
@SeaArrow Clever
@SeaArrow Seventeen
@No1Nico You get Nico
*Nishikinoir has left the group chat*
@QueenOfAllCups Oh good job, Nico-chi; you’re scared away the hot musician
@OnPoint Are all those bands?
@OnPoint I can do this.
@OnPoint Maroon5
@No1Nico ◴_◶
@QueenOfAllCups Good one, Eli.
*@QueenofAllCups has added @Nishikinoir to the chat*
@Nishikinoir 4 Minute. Love Tension
@No1Nico And the music nerd goes old school. And adds a song.
@Nishikinoir I like thorough
@QueenOfAllCups And suits (￣^;￣) Nico-chi, check out the vid.
@SeaArrow Can’t Nobody
@No1Nico Another old school score
@No1Nico FIne. Pristin V Spotlight for the Number 1 K-pop fan
@QueenOfAllCups 3Ye Queen
@FeatherTouch 3 Ye Stalker
@QueenOfAllCups Twice I Can’t stop me
@OnPoint I don’t understand what is going on
@SeaArrow My apologies. @FeatherTouch is having some kind of emergency that will take up the rest of our evening. Please let us know the schedule as soon as possible
*SeaArrow has left the chat*
@Nishikinoir (-_-;)
@No1Nico Does Nico want to know
@Nishikinoir No
@QueenOfAllCups @OnPoint text me your sched and I’ll figure something out.
@No1Nico All the holidays in two frikkin weeks; who thought of that.
*Private chat*
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico my parents are throwing a New Year’s Eve masquerade party
@No1Nico @Nishikinoir And you need your tux jacket back
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico Sure
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico But I wondered if you might want to hang out…you’re probably busy though
@No1Nico @Nishikinoir No real holiday plans, my sibs get tucked in early … what’s the dress code?
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico meet me at Norris tomorrow and we can talk about it
@No1Nico @Nishikinoir 3 p.m. Nico has time between classes.
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico Okay
@No1Nico @Nishikinoir ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ )
@Nishikinoir @No1Nico (⊙_◎)
@QueenOfAllCups Anybody out there?
@OnPoint Hi ( *>ω<*)
@QueenOfAllCups Hi ԅ(≖◡≖ԅ)
@OnPoint Thanks for being nice, you know, when I didn’t know about the band thing
@QueenOfAllCups If you want to come over, we can watch those videos.
@OnPoint Sounds fun.
@OnPoint Do I need a suit ¬‿¬
@QueenOfAllCups Come as you are
@OnPoint Sounds perfect
@QueenOfAllCups See you soon.
A/N: People have been posting so many #wenclair chat/text fics, I couldn't resist. The@sapphicfest Week 5 prompt was holiday plans. So here we go.
Wednesday Addams sat on the chair she used for cello practice, leaning forward, her foil in hand, rather than a bow. Music was represented by the pile of moonstone, bloodmoon, and jade green, and mahogany Taylor Swift vinyl trapped under the point of the foil. Wednesday spun the sword, slowly, but inexorably increasing the force she was exerting downward. Her father would chide her about proper sword care, Bianca Barclay would brush away all future tossed gauntlets as Wednesday would be an opponent unworthy of her rank. But Wednesday found as the point of the foil drilled through the vinyl, shattering it, a sensation of pleasure rose each time the point broke through to a new platter. Her Secret Santa gift to Enid Sinclair was recorded, the mixtape, authentically lodged on a cassette with Wednesday’s careful calligraphy listing the song and commentary list scratched onto the paper cover tucked inside. She wondered if she should have recorded the albums as they shattered as a backdrop to her commentary. She had delicately shredded the covers, cutting strips with the sharpest of craft knives, until Taylor Swift’s face became a muddle of flesh tones and dark backdrops. She appreciated Ms. Swift’s craft; what she did not appreciate was how Enid’s eyes lit up when a Taylor Swift song came on or how Enid had bouncily requested Wednesday donate a couple of rare books to the “Get Enid Taylor Tickets” auction. Yes, the books were dusty (She had hidden Thing’s favorite hand cream for that betrayal), but they were also irreplaceable. Yes, they would have made Enid’s auction a success if the billionaires lusting for them had found them, but surely transferring enough cash to buy out an entire stadium to a high schooler’s account would have raised some kind of ATF alarm. This is part of why Wednesday had given up cannons at a young age; blade weapons attracted much less government scrutiny than the gunpowder and projectile variety. Pugsley was going to have to learn to obscure the trail of his purchases. Perhaps Wednesday would start a demolition company to gift him for his next birthday.
“Howdy, bestie.” The door opened and Enid rushed into the room, a swirl of butterscotch gold and brightness that could no longer be contained by any means Wednesday had researched. Even midnights seemed brighter since Wednesday had demurred Enid’s offer to replace the duct tape. Where midnights now her afternoon when Enid was present? Was Taylor Swift a Cassandra, prophesing all the dooms. Wednesday was intrigued by that thought. Perhaps she should listen to and shatter some of Taylor’s earlier albums (Taylor’s Versions only, if available). Was this now Wednesday (Enid’s version)? If she was going to cross pollinate any features, Wednesday thought, nay prayed, could it be the fangs and not the blinding colors.
“Wednesday?”
Wednesday (Enid’s version) re entered the physical space of her body opening her eyes to discover an Enid barely the width of a blade off her nose. Blue eyes, worried blue eyes, blue eyes Wednesday would forget to swim in so the weight of her emotions would drag her to doom, looked puzzled. Wednesday flounced back, sword flipping up, Enid skipping back to avoid the tip, Wednesday throwing herself forward, to the floor, arms out, to cover the carnage she had been creating.
“Secret Santa collage.” Wednesday(Enid’s version) hissed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Enid frowned, “You’re acting…” Weird, strange, odd…all of those words would describe Wednesday’s behavior on any ordinary day so Wednesday was very curious as to how Enid would describe this.
“Silly. Silly.” Enid turned to talk to Thing, “She’s being silly. Isn’t she?”
Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) glared from where she was sprawled on the floor, across destroyed Midnights albums, shards of which cut into her ribs. Thing scuttled over to hover by her nose. He smirked. Wednesday glared.
“I was not expecting you back until later.” Wednesday (Enid’s version) in a weak attempt to cover up embarrassment, scolded Enid.”I do not think you are ready to interact with my messy side.”
“You have a messy side?”
Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) pulled off a devious smile, remembering days coated with dirt, mud, cobwebs, viscera, feathers.
“It’s a private thing.”
Enid stared, then shrugged, “Yeah, some days I just feel like making a pile of all my clothes on the bed and diving in; figures you’d prefer the floor.”
“An ascetic pleasure.” Wednesday (Enid’s version) could feel the hyperventilation start as her heart rate accelerated like an avalanche. What was she saying? Did any of it make sense? How could she get Enid out of the room before Enid discovered what she’d been up to and assumed the Prophet Swift had made Wednesday’s murder list. Well, she had, but after Wednesday (Enid’s version) discovery of the singer’s new found link to ancient prophetesses, Wednesday would draw a careful black line through the name. Future knowledge could be useful and Enid owned all the albums.
Enid reached down with both hands and easily put Wednesday (Enid’s version) back on her feet, fortunately holding on for just 32 seconds too long so when Wednesday’s (Enid’s version) knees buckled as she swooned at Enid’s werewolf strength, Wednesday (Enid’s version) managed to remain upright. Wednesday (Wednesday's version) stepped forward, broadening her shoulders, head held high, chin tilted forward, challenging Enid, daringly blocking the werewolf’s view.
Enid knelt down. Wednesday’s (Enid’s version) throat closed to keep her stomach in. Was this a proposal? Did the revelation of a less perfect side sway Enid to impulsive, impressive possessiveness.
Enid was back on her feet, Wednesday’s foil in hand, examining the tip, “It’s not the sword’s fault Bianca keeps getting first touch. You’ve been letting your defenses down.”
“It’s a trap. A trap. A plan. To win. One I thought about. A lot.” This was all babble. Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) never EVER babbled. Was never ever flustered. Wednesday (Enid’s version) grabbed the foil back, hugging it, “I always have a plan. And I never fail to execute it.” A pause. This needed something else to finish it off, something convincing. “Don’t tell Bianca.”
Pugsley would have done better, Eugene would have been more eloquent. She hadn’t even threatened Enid with defenestration. Wednesday (Enid’s version) brought both hands up to her face and the hand guard rammed her nose, eyes watering as she winced with pain.
Enid very gently put one hand on Wednesday (Enid’s version)’s shoulder, took the foil back with the other, and led Wednesday (Enid’s version) to her bed.
“You’re red, Wednesday. You probably have a fever. That’s why you’re acting so strange.”
Fever, yes, a deadly fever. Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) snarled at Thing, who was on his side, rocking with laughter.
Wednesday (Enid’s version) stopped. An idea. “Get me soup. Quickly. I’ll die without soup.”
“Okay.” Enid sounded more confused than worried, but soup was a request she could deliver on. “I’ll be right back. Lay down. Thing, make sure she doesn’t strain anything.”
Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) reached for the sword. If she rammed it through her chest with enough velocity, no further conversations would be necessary. Ever.
Enid, worried werewolf reflexes fully activated, dodged. “You’re not getting out of this world that easily, Addams.”
And the wink. And the pouty flirty smily perfect poisoned lips. And Wednesday (Enid’s version) was falling back on her bed, actually feverish, pierced through the heart, head full of ENID ENID ENID ENID ENID ENID.
Alas and most unfortunately, for her now not to be birthed future heirs, Wednesday Addams (all versions) was no Mastermind at existing in the presence of Enid Sinclair’s celestial glow.
A/N: My first for this fandom. Wenclair is currently driving my brain. Who doesn't love a good storm cloud raven/sunny day werewolf story? Written for @sapphicfest.
Title: Wrap Me In Your Arms (Warm Me From Within)
Fandom: Legend of Yunze
Relationship: A-Ze/Jiang Zhaoyun
Author: ourswordsmeandeath
Rating: G
Words: 1716
Summary:
Zhaoyun is decorating their yard for the holidays. Inside, A-Ze is curled up in her favorite chair reading a book. Snow begins to fall.
Written for the Sapphic Winter Fest 2022. Week 1: Sharing a jacket. Inspired by this extra. Set a little over two years after the special.
@sapphicfest
The group heads to the Nishikino mansion for a brainstorming session. Nico discovers a few things about Maki.
Snow
“Drive me, Nico-chi. You have a car. It’s going to snow.” Nozomi’s drawl could not be contained in Nico’s laptop.
“No. It’s just a little more than a mile. And you scheduled it during Nico’s workout. So Nico will multitask.”
“I don’t want to get out of bed, Nico-chi. I have a pile of fluffy blankets and I’m warm…”
“You set up this meeting, Nozomi. You, me, Eli, the music nerd with the fancy house…”
“Are you bringing Ma-ki her tux back?”
“Can’t really roll it up in a backpack. Besides, how often do you need fancy clothes?”
“Just give me a bathrobe and a blonde.”
“I’m ending this conversation.”
Nico hit disconnect. She didn’t have time to indulge Nozomi’s mood. She had a few things to pack in her backpack and then it was time to put in the first of her two mile run.
###
Big house. Huge house. Nico didn’t know what to expect when the door opened, but maybe Lurch from the Addams Family and pipe organ music in the background. But no, Maki opened her own door, dressed like a vintage Hollywood movie star in tall trousers and a lavender pinstripe oxford shirt, unbuttoned one or two many buttons for Nico not to have gawked at the sensuous reveal of curve. But Maki didn’t seem to notice, just nodded at Nico, said a breathy “hi” and waved Nico inside.
“Is Nozomi here yet?”
“Yes, she and Eli and and Umi…”
“Umi?”
“My friend who’s going to help with the script.”
“A music student?”
Maki shook her head, zipping down long corridors decorated with green garlands and red bows, setting a Christmas mood almost a month early. “Poet. We met in the Film Classics club.”
Another noir nerd. Nico was going to have to watch some of these movies.
“So there’s The Maltese Falcon, Nico knows that one. What else would you suggest?”
Maki stopped, turned, amethyst eyes curious.
“Nico likes to be thorough.”
A nod. “The Big Sleep. If you like Bogart, you can’t go wrong adding Lauren Bacall.”
Nico appreciated the attention to her interests. Maki glanced to the window, where the sky was getting gray, the clouds heavy with damp.
“Nico will put it on the list.”
“The noir cutoff is 1959, after that is neo-noir. In this weather, we should watch Fargo.” Maki giggled, before continuing down the hall. “It’s snow noir.”
There was a bounce in Maki’s step, Nico lingering two steps behind, whether because of post run fatigue or aesthetic appreciation, Nico decided not to review.
###
Nico did a quick change in a bathroom the size of her first dorm room. Fluffy pink oversized sweater, kangaroo pocket, sparkly winter tights. In the media room, Maki was on the floor, laptop open in front of her on a low wood and glass table. Classical sounding music played out of two portable speakers. Instrumental, dark, ominous, occasional fragile notes from a lighter instrument barely holding the space, crashing piano chords. Nico winced as screechy violin chords began.
“Yuck. Give Nico a pop song any day.”
Nozomi reluctantly pivoted from her conversation with Eli, “This is noir, Nico. Ominous classical is the mood.”
“Actually,” Maki didn’t look up from her screen, “I would have chosen a jazz theme, but I think between the Russian, Italian, and religious imageries and overtones, the collective thought classical would better suit.”
Umi Sonoda, poet and dapper dresser, was perched on the extended chaise leg of the sectional sofa. “Which is why it’s a Scorsese mafia movie, not a noir, although as conceived by the Tumblr hive mind, Goncharov is laden with noir themes.
“And multiple femme fatales, especially if you count Andrey.” Nozomi leaned forward to continue pouring out tea.
“Debatable.” Umi countered. “Katya is the classic femme fatale, her arc slicing through Guncharov, Sofia, and Andrey stories.”
“Shooting through might have been a better analogy. She’s not the knife girl. Or the ice pick asexual.” Nozomi giggled.
“I’d better read this pretty soon, hadn’t I?” Eli said, amicably confused, “Is it all just grim and murdery?”
Maki shook her head, “You can’t help but feel a brief hope, that maybe at least one of them will escape. I think the jazz soundtracks get that better, that sweetness, a seed of hope, a brief respite from ominous, but then everyone's swallowed up again in the sultry struggle, like the opening for The Postman Always Rings Twice.”
Nico’s experience of femme fatales, music, and noir consisted of an article she remembered skimming through about Taylor Swift. Not that Nico would ever admit to being out of her depth.
“No body, no crime.” Nico announced.
Maki raised an eyebrow, “Is that a movie.”
“A Taylor Swift song.”
Nozomi snorted, “Nico brings the high brow.”
Umi smiled, “Actually, Ms. Swift’s latest album really embraces the femme fatale/anti hero vibe. To say “I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'Cause I care” is clever.”
“Nico knows. And Anti-Hero, wow, it’s right there, she embraces it.”
“I prefer when she lets the lyrics get cold blooded enough to be ice.”
Nico hadn’t expected this reaction from Umi. From the looks on the faces in the rest of the room, no one else had either. But Nico was always in.
“Nico-chi, you surprise me.”
“Yeah, like I don't dress for women
I don't dress for men
Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge…it’s the modern genderqueer asexual crime to the max anthem.”
Nico turned to Nozomi, “How?”
“You’re sharp.”
“You can bring a Nico to any fight.” And Nico winked randomly into the room, causing Umi to blush and fumble her tea.
Maki closed her laptop, levering herself up to a seat. “I’d rather riff off Ellington in Anatomy of Murder. Pop isn’t this mood.”
Eli yawned, standing to shake herself and wander over to the window. “Oh wow.”
“What is it, Eli-chi?”
Eli glanced back, a broad smile gleaming at Nozomi’s diminutive, “Snow.”
“SNOW!” Nico rushed to the window. Snow was coming down.
“Something wrong?” Maki asked.
“Nico ran here. And Nico has rehearsal in a couple of hours.”
“I can drive you back.” Nozomi said.
“It’s coming down pretty fast.”
“You can all stay here. My parents are away at a medical conference. We could keep talking and decide on where to film.”
“Oh, are we going to do that here?” Eli spun, taking a better look at the room, “That’s awesome. There's so much space."
“My cinematographer’s not here.” Nozomi stepped next to Eli, glanced out at the snow and then whispered something in her ear.
Nico solved problems. “Rin? Just call her. She’s always up for anything.”
“But today’s her date day and Hanayo doesn’t like to go out.”
Ignoring Nozomi, Nico returned to the couch, pulled out her phone, and sent a flurry of texts.
“Hey, Maki, got anything Nico can cook?”
Maki froze, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I get take out or the chef leaves me things to reheat.”
Nico sighed, “Take Nico to your kitchen.”
###
The refrigerator was the size of three. And barely a quarter filled. With fancy hors d'oeuvres making and bottles of prosecco but no solid food. Nico liked solid food. She had two batches of gingersnaps in her bag, but that was for after real food.
“It’s hopeless.”
“Huh…what do you mean.”
“Just order a couple of pizzas. You must have a go to pizza place. Everyone has a go to pizza place.”
“For delivery? Yes.” Maki sounded thoughtful, Nico turned, curious, “For stuffed, New York style, or pizza turnovers?”
“You have three go to pizza places?”
Maki quirked an eyebrow, “Half a dozen. Sauce can be so mood dependent.”
“Pizza tastes differently depending on your mood?” Nico closed the refrigerator, sighing over the wasted space, “What’s today’s mood?”
Maki turned away, pulling out her phone, pushing loose hair back over a reddening ear, “Carmen’s pesto. The cheese tastes like it’s infused with garlic. You’ll be impressed.”
“Good thing Nico’s not a vampire and allergic.”
Maki froze, “Should I ask them?”
Nico laughed, “No, Nico thinks we’re good on the no vampires. Just get one less heavy on the garlic.”
“Okay.”
So serious. It was seriously adorable Nico thought, the amount of concentration Maki brought to ordering pizza, her lips twisted slightly as she tapped out her order for the online form.
“I guess we should get back there before Nozomi does anything too crazy.”
“Have you been friends for long?”
“Same dorm freshman year so three plus years.”
“You’re a senior?! I thought you were…”
“What?”
“A freshman, I hadn’t seen you around before.”
Nico couldn’t help the disgruntled huff. Would no one ever see her as a mature, multi talented adult with infinite potential. “Nico is always busy, working, studying, and performing.”
“I’m taking pre med classes.”
“Ah, parents and the medical conference.”
“Yeah.” Not much enthusiasm. Maki put away her phone, “It’ll be here in 90 minutes. Want to hear my take on Sofia’s theme?”
“Nico is in.”
Maki turned in the opposite direction.
“What about the others?”
“I’ll leave the door open. They can find the piano.”
Maki practically skipped down the hall, Nico hurrying to match pace. An artfully placed clump of green hung at the end of the hall and Maki startled, backpedalling frantically into Nico, who suddenly had an armful of curves
“Are you all right?”
“Ummm.”
“What is it? A spider or something?”
Nico made sure Maki was standing not tilting and stepped around the taller woman, following where her glance was frozen to the small wreath of mistletoe.
Nico rolled her eyes. Too much silly drama. Good thing Nozomi was in another room or there would be teasing and Nico was beginning to suspect that teasing was not something Maki took to, “We can tiptoe past it. No one will have to know.”
“Santa will.”
Long lashes blinked over open, innocent amethyst eyes. A frown crushed lips into a yield warning. Nico bit the inside of her own lip to prevent a rush of quick, unedited words.
“Papa always tells Mama you have to follow the mistletoe rule.”
Was Maki ten? Nico started to grumble, then shook her head slightly. Not everyone was into kissing, not everyone (shocking she knew) was into dating. Or flirting. Or a chance to try things out with Nico. That was okay, Nico didn’t come for that…well, Nico might have come more eagerly because Maki was attractive, but Nozomi was also really excited about this project so it was going to turn out well. And Nico was always glad to find new friends.
“What is the mistletoe rule?”
“Kiss.”
“So fine.” Nico took Maki’s hand and pulled her under the mistletoe, halfway into the music room, “Beautiful piano.”
“Thanks.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?” Maki stepped back, worried.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.”
Maki closed her eyes, no leaning in. Nico thought of the most ridiculous, unromantic place anyone could kiss a person and leaned forward, aiming for Maki’s elbow. But as she brushed Maki’s arm, it flung out, contacting Niico on the jaw, making her world wobbly for a moment. Nico pitched forward, almost tackling Maki, but wrenching herself to the side, as Maki’s eyes opened, horrified.
“What are you doing?”
Nico rubbing her jaw, scowled, “Not having a good time.”
“Why did you do something so stupid?”
“If only Nico knew.” Nico shoved Maki into the room, “Go play something.” Then Nico jumped up and swatted down the mistletoe, glaring at the greenery. “Not on my watch.”
“Nico-chi!” Nozomi had heard the kerfuffle and led the crowd toward the music room, “What are you doing?”
“Saving a life.” Nico shoved the wreath in her dress’s kangaroo pocket. “Pizza’s coming in an hour.”
Nico collapsed on the comfiest looking chaise. She’d earned a rest.
A/N:
Week 2 and 3 prompts for the @sapphicfest Snowed in and Mistletoe.
Also, does anybody else have WENCLAIR on the brain?
Summary: Nozomi Tojo has caught the Goncharov; Yazawa Nico meets Nishikino Maki. Also, shenanigans.
Jacket
Northwestern University Theatre Arts major Yazawa Nico had been up all night, finishing a paper. On Restoration Drama. She intended to never spend another second thinking about Restoration Drama so the only reason she was half paying attention to Radio, TV, and Film major Nozomi Tojo, was that Tojo was talking about something else. Or maybe Nico was nodding off and dreaming that Nozomi had suddenly become a Scorcese fan. At least it wasn’t Tarantino. Thank the gods it wasn’t Tarantino. The nodding off stopped when Nozomi shoved a printout at Nico.
“Memorize that.”
“No.”
“I need you, Nico.”
“Everyone needs Nico. I am not reading your latest porn fantasy.” Nico shoved back but Nozomi held the paper firmly in front of her audience.
“It’s a legitimate project, Nico-chi.” Nozomi’s smile was too wide, her eye contact too skittish.
Nico leaned forward, “Legit, like for independent project credit.”
Nozomi leaned forward, turquoise eyes mischievous, “Legit like will look good on Nico’s resume when I walk away with the Clocktower Laurels at the next Goncharov Film Festival.”
“Goncharov? Is that Russian.”
Nozomi started to sparkle like a magical girl about to spin into a transformation, “You don’t know Goncharov?”
“Goncharov, Chechov, if Nico has to do plays, at least make it American.”
“Nah, you want English farces, Nico. Your face was made for farce.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Nozomi shrugged, “Goncharov is a crowd sourced Martin Scorcese mafia film.”
“Some of those words make sense.”
“People on the internet made up a thing and it went viral.”
“So it’s stupid.” Nico was back to only half listening, debating if she should wake up fully and eat breakfast.
“No, it’s genius. And it’s got this great plot and Cybill Shephard was cast in one of the leads and…”
Nico understood now. “The blonde. You want an excuse to talk to the blonde. That dancer you’ve been stalking.”
“I haven’t been stalking her.”
Nico glanced around the room. Yep, blonde head, by the window, looking out at the Lakefill. “This is why we’re at Norris, not the dorm cafeteria, where Nico has a paid up meal plan.”
“I’ll buy you coffee and a donut.”
Nico sat, arms crossed.
“What?”
“Go buy Nico coffee and a donut. Now.”
“Read the script.”
“Maybe.”
Nozomi stood, shimmied into a better fit with her dress, then strolled by the blonde to get to the Dunkin Donuts. Nico saw the blonde follow Nozomi’s path, sighed, and began to read the page in front of her. It was a dream sequence, two women mirroring each other, a gunshot, a woken, shaken protagonist. Quick and atmospheric. Nico conceded, to herself, that it was actually a pretty solid scene. No dialogue. Not much of Nico’s time.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just so so clumsy. I didn’t mean…did I ruin your sweater…” Nozomi’s voice boomed out.
Nico groaned. No coffee. Maybe she could rescue the donut. Nico grabbed her bag, hopped to her feet, and went to interrupt the meet cute conspiracy that was happening with her breakfast.
“My friend’s an idiot.” Nico announced, strolling up, “and this was the only way she could think of to meet you.”
Long eyelashes blinked over puzzled blue eyes.
Nico grabbed the donut bag from Nozomi and dropped the printout in front of the blonde. “Nico looks forward to working with you.”
And Nico headed for her dorm.
###
Nico’s phone went off an hour later. She was half asleep but too curious to ignore.
Nz: ( ͡~ ‿ ͡°) Eli’s in.
N: 乁(◣̪◢)ㄏ
Nz: (✿ヘ‿ヘ)
Nz: And we have a composer.
Nico didn’t know many music majors, how did Nozomi?
N: Composer?
Nz; yeah, she must have seen the call to collab I posted in the Beehive or the theatre building or somewhere.
N: Collab?
Nz: On the Goncharov short.
N: SOmeone actually messaged you?
Nz; You may not Tumblr, Nico-chi, but actual creatives love it.
N: Nico is creative.
Nz: Nico needs attention. Tumblr hates it.
N: Eyes are automatically drawn to Nico. Nico’s TWIG game is flawless.
Nz: Some of us prefer a more anonymous experience.
N: So what’s this weirdo’s deal?
Nz: She’s into noir and horror scores.
N: ( ͡⎚﹏ ͡⎚) Sounds cheerful.
Nz: We’re meeting her tonight, after her recital.
N: We?
Nz º·(˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º
N: ᕙ(ᓀ‸ᓂ)ง Oh no, Nico is busy.
Nz: Are you going to make me go alone?
N: what about the blonde
Nico scrolled back through the messages to double check the name. Eli. Nozomi had just met Eli that morning and while Nozomi handled all situations with charm and confidence, the older sister in Nico just couldn’t imagine sitting at home while Nozomi went out to meet some horror movie obsessed music nerd.
N: What time?
###
“Did you forget a mask, Nico?” Nozomi pointed to the sign.
“For the protection of the community, please wear a mask during the recital.”
“What is this, a hospital?”
Nozomi smirked and put on her mask, leaving Nico to grab one of the N95s left for the audience. It took several minutes to arrange her twin tails over the head bands.
“Nico spent some time on Tumblr, on this Goncharov.”
“Ooohh, research. What’dya think?”
“You want Nico to play Sofia, right? The one in the suit.”
“Yes.”
“Nico doesn’t do suits.” Nico’s eyes pinched up in a judgey frown, “And it’s a dream sequence, wouldn’t pajamas be better?”
“But the audience shouldn’t know its a dream until the gunshot wakes Katya up.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Northwestern’s newest performance space, Galvin Hall, was about a quarter full, a hundred heads, one third students, the rest local music lovers and professorial looking people. Nico slid into a seat at the edge of the front row.
“What’s Nico listening to?”
Nozomi shoved the program at Nico. Nishikino Maki, original compositions inspired by Salvador Dali and Erik Satie.
“Dali’s the melting clocks guy, right?”
Nozomi nodded, doing a quick search on her phone.
“Is the other guy an artist too?”
Nozomi shook her head, “Composer. Lots of stuff for single piano, not so famous, but…”
“But…”
“Famous people paid attention to him.” Nozomi glanced toward the stage, “Interesting choice.”
There was a ripple of a reaction and a tall redheaded woman in an exquisitely tailored tuxedo walked out off the wings, striding piano-ward, acknowledging the audience with a brief nod.
“Suit.” Nozomi hissed in Nico’s ear.
Nico hummed, watching the composer slide onto the bench, fingers gracefully arched, waiting to fall into the keys. She’d never been to a piano recital before.
###
Nico didn’t know if all pianists were that compelling or just this Nishikino Maki, but Nico’s interest was hyped. The physicality and grace of the playing amazed her, her dance experience giving her some insight into how much effort Maki was putting into creating this music. The music itself was tightly woven emotion, wrapping itself around Nico, soaking in under the skin, leaving Nico jittery with friction she didn’t quite understand. After the final note, Nozomi, seemingly not affected, grabbed her coat and barrelled to the stage, a befuddled Nico in her wake.
Nico didn’t hear the quick exchange between Nozomi and Maki, but suddenly they were all three speed walking toward the back of the stage, through an exit door, and outside, where it was colder than Nico had expected. Were they going for a smoke? Why had she left her coat inside?
Maki took her mask off, her expression neutral, although Nico couldn’t stop staring at the loveliness revealed. Nozomi kept talking. Nico could feel shivers about to start, so she clapped her hands together to get blood moving. At the sudden sound, Maki JUMPED, as if someone in a mask with a chainsaw had jumped out.
Nico giggled as Maki scowled at her.
“Aren’t you the horror movie fan?”
“I score them, they don’t surprise me, I’ve seen the script and the dailies.”
Nico shrugged, sounded dull. “That takes the fun out.”
Maki’s eyebrows lowered, “Fun is successfully cracking a stalking scene so people look over their own shoulders.”
“That’s not really fun for Nico either.”
Nozomi’s lips were twitching like she was holding in a comment, her eyes merry.
Maki had a hair curl twisting between fingers, staring at the sliver of a moon.
Nico was never one for silence, especially not silence and cold. “Nico was impressed. If your movie scoring is like your playing, the emotions will definitely come through to the audience.”
“Which is why it’s a shame, and I think Nico-chi will agree with me,” Nozomi glanced to Nico, who was too busy shivering to respond, “to only record 47 seconds of the dream. I’d like to expand the script.”
“So these would be scenes adjacent to the script proper.” Maki’s amethyst eyes caught the streetlamp’s glow.
“Yes, the intro or outro to all the Katya/Sofia scenes. Or the scenes where one might be thinking about the other.”
“My schedule’s packed, but I could make some time.” Maki said.
Maki then turned to glare at Nico, who had advanced to hopping from one foot to the other, “Here, you’re distracting me.” Maki took off her tuxedo jacket, dropping it around Nico’s shoulder, a musky rose and sandalwood scented warmth surrounding Nico, who hastily shoved her arms into the sleeves.
“Nico could make time.”
Nozomi stepped back, whistling. “That’s a good look for you, Nico-chi.”
“Everything is a good look for Nico.” Nico glanced down, wondering what the actual effect was, the tuxedo jacket over her pink knit sweater dress. She pulled out her phone, holding it high and talking a quick selfie.
“What’s your tag?”
“Huh?”
“TWIG tag, stalker nerd.”
“Maki.”
Nico tilted her head, staring at Maki, not playing games.
“My account’s locked. Not for strangers.”
“Well, now you know Nico. Not a stranger.”
“Don’t tag me.”
“Okay…” Nico glanced to Nozomi. Who shrugged.
“It’s Nishikinoir.” Maki glanced back over her shoulder, speaking to Nozomi. “I have to find my parents. Text me.”
Nico started to shrug out of the jacket, but Maki stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll get it next time.” And then Maki sprinted off back to the building, a barely audible, “looks good” in her wake. There was a pause in the conversation until the sound of her footsteps faded.
“Suits.” Nozomi drawled, shooting the cuffs of her peacoat.
Nico glanced down at her winking selfie, tailored black smooth over pink crunchy texture. “Yeah.”
A/N: Participating in the @sapphicfest, 8 weeks of prompts, started with "borrowed jacket." Goncharov has been amusing and inspiring me on Tumblr so I thought it might be fun to imagine what Muse would do with it. Thanks to @ryqoshay for many Guncharov and suit chats.
Weekly prompts from @femslash-friday-prompts as they update their weekly prompts (possible pairings for each - Kasjory, Marjory/Mai, Mai/Scarlet, Caithe/Faolain, Caithe/Eir, Queen Jennah/Countess Anise - we'll see where the prompts lead us!) - I will post these to AO3.
Finishing Rytloganach as inspiration strikes. Unfortunately for Rytloganach I need to watch a lot of inspirational material and I haven't had the urge to watch gay threesome porn... Ever. By my predictions, Thorn/Joko should be up by the end of Halloween event. Haha to past me, I actually finished Thorn/Joko before October even ended!
Working on various other fics that will finish as the inspiration strikes as well. Hoping Aurene Angst and 28 Reasons Caithe/Faolain (working title: Love Story Written in Blood) and newly added Crecia fic and Mysteries in Club Canach are all continued this month.
(Speaking of Mysteries in Club Canach, I will finish this before LWS6 is released, so once they announce first episode release date, I will be writing hardcore on this)
Other stories as I get inspiration. I'm sure someone will post a headcanon that I absolutely must write a full story for or even just a random post that inspires me. You know how it goes.
First prompt for @sapphicfest goes up at the very end of November. With the prompt of "one character giving another a piece of clothing to stay warm", it's likely to be a Caithe/Eir fic.
And as usual, I will randomly post OC stories on this blog under their respective tags - I think I will add links to all of them in my intro post as well.
the prompts have been released ! there are eight prompts in total which will be posted weekly from the 28th Nov to 22nd January . all fics will be posted to the ao3 collection .
week 1 ~ character a gives character b their jacket
