"You have a lucid dream of one of your fics. Which one do you choose and why?"
Of one of my already written fics, I would choose to dream about my Sapsorrow story because I spent so long writing in that world that I would love to linger just a little longer. It was an absolute delight to write and I loved every minute of it.
However.
I actually did have a lucid dream about a fic I had never written. Here is the synopsis:
Gambling and Glass Petals
Synopsis: the secretary for Sir Crocodile bites off a little more than she could chew after meeting the infamous king and migraine to her employer, Donquixote Doflamingo. Despite her best efforts to move his attention away, she is wooed by the demonstration of affection via pink peonies enough to return them via a letter that never reaches him. Instead, both Doflamingo and Crocodile arrive on her doorstep to find her apartment ransacked for all its worth. They both have to work together to find her, both finding their hearts beat only for her.
When I tell you this fic was the most insane one I've ever not written and experienced, I am being so honest. I would love the opportunity to write this one day! Crocodile x f!reader x Doflamingo (slow burn with croc, hot flash with Doflamingo), mystery, high stakes, romance, angst, I am feral for this fic.
I feel like I know the answer to which fic of @physics-of-one-piece would like to dream of, but I'm asking anyway because I love Fizzy. I would love to also know which fic of @gav-san they would like to dream in its entirety. And @jintaka-hane too because there's so many beautiful ones you've written! If you were to dream about one of your fics, which one would it be and why?
Last Line Tag Game - post the last line that you wrote and tag someone for every word in the line.
Thanks for bringing me into the challenge @earlgrey-lateatnight! 💜
Now the thing is that I don't have a draft right now, as I did just finish "I thought it would all be fine". But I have been bouncing ideas with @chinitade over the weekend on a new fic. So I will simply post my last synopsis paragraph.
If you wondering what the heck Gotland has to do with this - I was there to visit one year ago. And it got me thinking that Wilmon could live a peaceful life at the country side there, and Simon would have a good opportunity to work with music.
Gotland is Sweden's biggest island, located in south Baltic see, known for is peaceful pace and rich culture. Can you imagine our boys living there?
Not sure I can find that many people to tag and who has already been tagged, but send no pressure tags to some of the authors in my inbox @dreamyelectronicmusic, @itouchedthefire, @hergrandplan and @bluedalahorse.
Parenthood Killed the Rodeo Star - Tessa and Rhett both set out from Wabang at 18 to become famous rodeo stars. Tessa competing in barrel racing for millions and Rhett competing in bull riding. Over the years, they find success and a piece of home within one another. Always seeming to find one another when they were in the same cities - and always seeming to wind up in the same bed. But eventually, their little friends-with-benefits situation gives them both more than they bargained for. Forcing them both to rethink their careers, their entire lives, and what they might mean to one another.
This idea has officially rotted my brain and it's not even been 12 hours since I thought of it. Just tagging a few people who seemed interested in this before: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @bobfloydsbabe
I'm finally ready to announce my new long-form original fic! It's been in the works for such a long time, and I can't wait to share it.
Asunder centers around an original character, Sierra, and Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley. She's a chemical engineering PhD recruited by ARPA-E to work on a top secret project, and he's part of the team assigned to get her and the other scientists to the site in one piece. Simple enough, right? It would be, except our two protagonists have history they'll have to confront now that they're confined to closer quarters than either are comfortable with.
Add in some familiar 141 faces, some angst, some laughs, some danger, and lots of spice, and it's gonna be a good time.
Expected publication: early March 2023
Full chapters will be posted to my AO3, but teasers/snippets/deleted scenes will find their way here, as well as general announcements.
Stability, was all Rey have ever wanted after the chaotic childhood she had. A stable job, a stable relationship with Finn, a stable life. She is happy with what she has, after all this difficult years.
Everything changes when her boss, Leia, decides to retire to spend more time with her husband, and her only son Benjamin Solo takes over the company.
She quickly discovers that appearances are really deceiving, he is far from the monster everyone says that he is. And that life has much more to offer. A bond quickly develops between them, and without her realizing it, she falls in love with him.
Out of loyalty to Finn, she refuses to give into her feelings, which she thinks are shared.
But when she discovers the true face of her boyfriend and that their whole relationship is based only on lies and deceptions. Will she be able to resist the temptation represented by the dark Benjamin Solo? Will she have the courage to listen to her heart and know true love ?
For the fic title thing: "The way you got me under your spell" (I stole this from Touch by Little Mix, don't sue me pls)
[this is part of a series of fic synopses i would write based on the fic titles i’m sent, here is my tag for all of them :)]
okay, so, obviously, a magic au. but we’re gonna mix it up: this time, it’s louis who is the secret witch who has to hide his magic (and his giant crush) from harry.
so louis obviously isn’t going to be a typical witch. he’s not big on the kitschy mason jars and cutesy labels for things; he keeps his herbs for his potions in tupperware containers right next to his weed. he brews his potions in an old teapot he’s repurposed into a cauldron, and he stores his mixtures in old whiskey bottles. he draws sigils on his shoes and his denim jackets with sharpie, tattoos protection spells on his forearms amidst his other doodled ink.
so he meets harry when he moves in next door, and he immediately knows this isn’t going to end well. witches fall hard, and they fall fast, and from the first moment harry dimples at louis he knows he’s a goner.
but, surely if harry knew what he was, he’d think louis was crazy and run away screaming, right? so he doesn’t tell him, and just throws up some hasty glamours when harry comes over to visit, trying to cover up the sigils burned into the walls or the ancient spellbooks on his desk. one time, harry notices his stacks of containers full of rosemary and cinnamon and sage, and louis has to scramble for a reason to have all that, finally settling on, “i’m a bit of a chef in my spare time.”
“really?” harry smiles, eyes twinkling. “you should cook me dinner sometime.”
that would be a terrible idea. louis can’t cook anything more complicated than cereal. so he opens his mouth to say no, and -
“sure,” he agrees.
“it’s a date!” harry beams.
niall laughs himself silly when he hears louis’ predicament, but he agrees to help him put together a relatively easy meal. “you’re going to cover all this up before he gets here, right?” he calls from the living room, gesturing at the skulls on the bookshelves and the half-melted candles on every surface, as louis stirs his pot of pasta.
“yeah, yeah,” louis says. “now come help me with the sauce.”
it’s a bit of a disaster but they finally put together a decent-enough meal just in time, and then when harry knocks on the door niall claps louis on the shoulder and twists on the spot, disappearing into thin air. louis answers the door and finds harry there, holding out a bouquet of flowers – roses, carnations, and baby’s breath, those’d make an interesting potion – and blushing prettily.
he and louis grin at their plates through the whole dinner, catching each other’s eyes and brushing their feet together under the table. louis’ magic is twitchy with excitement, making the lamp in the corner flicker when harry brushes his hair off his face, making a book fall off the shelf when harry laughs at his joke.
“can i…?” harry asks as they take their bottle of after-dinner wine to the windowsill, inching closer and closer under the stars as the night goes on. his lips are so close to louis’, and louis’ heart is beating so fast. he should say no.
“okay,” he whispers.
when their lips press together, louis’ magic goes haywire. all the lights in the surrounding city block flash on and off, but they don’t notice. books and candles topple off the shelves behind them, but they don’t notice that either. a lightning bolt strikes the tree outside louis’ window, sending the whole thing up in flames.
that they notice.
“shit!” louis gasps, jumping to his feet. his mind is blank with panic so he runs to the desk, grabbing his spellbook. harry’s scrambling for his phone, probably to call emergency services, but louis stutters, “no, no, don’t! i- i can-” he slams the heavy tome down, flicking through the pages marked with neon sticky notes until he finds the right spell. “et disperdam te, ignis, aqua!” he cries.
a cloud forms suddenly right over the still-burning tree, and there’s a clap of thunder before buckets of rain dump down onto the flames, quenching them. louis takes a deep breath of relief, but then remembers why that happened in the first place.
“um,” harry says.
“right,” louis says weakly. “that. that was. an illusion! yeah, i do- i do illusions, magic tricks-”
“louis,” harry interrupts.
“no, right, that’s stupid. um. it was a prank! haha, got you, you should see your face-”
“louis.”
“fine, fine,” louis sighs. he holds up his palms, which are glowing brightly. “i’m a witch.”
“oh,” harry says. then, “okay.”
“okay?” louis asks incredulously.
“well, i figured,” harry shrugged. “what with all the skulls-”
louis flushes. “i… usually hide those when i have company.”
“-and the notebook you lent me last week that was full of latin-”
“oh, um. yeah, i’ve been looking for that, actually.”
“-and, well. that,” harry says, pointing upwards. louis looks up and is confronted with the sight of the giant pentagram he’d painted on the ceiling when he’d first moved in, and that he’d completely forgotten about until this very moment.
the absurdity of the situation hits him and he doubles over, hysterical laughter hitting him hard. harry joins him a moment later, loud, squawky laugh like a balm to louis’ ears.
“right. well. let’s try again,” louis says. “hi, i’m louis, and i’m a witch. i have a familiar named clifford, and i learned every spell for how to set things on fire but never learned one for how to put them out.”
he holds out his hand, and harry takes it. louis’ magic reacts again, his happiness bubbling over and making the pages of the spellbooks rustle like a wind has swept through, a few of his candles sputtering to life. harry grins delightedly.
“i’m harry,” he says. his palm is very warm, and louis is very happy. “and i think you should show me what you can do.”
a month later, harry has cancelled his lease and completely moved in with louis. his cat, marlene, immensely enjoys being a menace to clifford, who loves her back fiercely even if she does bite him while he’s sleeping. harry’s diptique candles join louis’ magic ones on every surface, and he’s organized louis’ herbs so that he can find one he wants immediately instead of having to dig through tupperware boxes for twenty minutes every time.
louis is at the stove, stirring a new potion in his teapot-turned-cauldron with his wooden spoon when harry gets home from work. louis hears him greet the animals playing in the bedroom, then turns to see him stepping gingerly over the line of protective salt in the doorway to the kitchen. he wraps his arms around louis’ waist and nuzzles against louis’ cheek.
“hello, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss under louis’ ear.
and, even after a month of kisses and whispers and i love yous, louis’ magic still reacts, making the potion boil and a few of the bottles in the fridge rattle together.
it still makes harry grin, though, so he supposes it’s alright.
For the fic name thingy: A Drop Of Liquid Sunshine
okay i’m gonna try and get back into doing these, so if you’re new (hello!), these are synopses of fics that i would write based on the titles people sent to me. and with this one, literally the only thing i can think of is felix felicis, so this could only really be a harry potter au.
so. harry’s a sixth year ravenclaw hell bent on creating potions to cure – not just ease – muggle diseases and cancers. he’s muggleborn, and the moment he learned about magic and found out that he had that power in him, he wondered why everyone didn’t just, y’know, use it to help others. he gets the whole statute of secrecy thing (because he read the whole thing as an eleven-year-old), but he doesn’t understand how anyone could see the suffering of others (magic or muggle or anything in between) and be okay with it.
he’s been locked out of the common room for arguing with the door knocker about her logic again (she said that the answer to “what flies without wings?” was time which, yeah, harry gets that, but also he learned a spell in his very first charms class ever that proves that clever bit of wordplay wrong so, because wingardium leviosa is a thing that exists, everything has the potential to fly without wings and if she can’t accept that then fine) and so he’s down in the library, compiling texts from the restricted section about early wizard-muggle relations before the statute of secrecy was adopted. he opens the first one, sees a graphic illustration of a witch being burned at the stake, flips to another page and sees a muggle being burned at the stake instead, and closes it, realizing why the books were there in the restricted section in the first place.
for a while, he just sits there, his head against the pile of deeply disturbing books, considering going back up to the tower and apologizing to the door knocker. it’s not her fault he was in a bad mood, he’s just stalled on the progress of his potion to cure heart disease and can’t move forward until he figures out how his latest attempt reacts to niffler hair, which just went on the ministry’s restricted materials list and is now impossible to get ahold of.
suddenly, someone takes a seat across from him.
“hi,” says the someone. he props his feet up next to harry’s pile of books. “you look a bit distressed there, mate. thought i could help.”
harry looks up, and his heart beats weirdly against his ribs. louis tomlinson, seventh year, slytherin. eyes that look like the frost on the great lake in the winter, a grin that looks like snow on the castle turrets. harry swallows.
“not distressed, no,” he replies. “stuck.”
“stuck on what?”
“niffler hair.”
“well,” says tomlinson, the corners of his mouth twitching downward as if to say, yeah, that’s a bit shit. “sorry to hear that.”
harry assumes he’s taking the piss; most people like harry, and he has more friends than he knows what to do with sometimes, but they don’t really get his potions… thing. or, at least, the non-ravenclaws don’t get it. the ravenclaws understand hyper-focusing on one specific interest, but they don’t understand the fascination with helping muggles. so, basically, harry doesn’t talk about his potions issues much, and he assumes this is another one of those times he’ll politely end the conversation before it starts.
“thank you,” he says, though, because he’s polite. he stands and starts to gather the books full of burning people to stack them back on the shelf.
“it’s a class IV non-tradable now, isn’t it?” tomlinson says, and harry lays the books back down. “what with nifflers being endangered.”
“yeah,” harry says, slightly agog. “yeah, that’s- that’s my issue.”
tomlinson hums. “that is a tough one.” he scratches a hand through shiny-messy hair. “can get it for you, though. if you’d like.”
harry sits, his legs gone to jelly. “you can?”
tomlinson’s grin turns sharp. “sure.” then, “for something in return.”
so they strike a deal; tomlinson bet his friend (fellow slytherin niall horan, chaser for the quidditch team, all around Everyone’s Best Friend and future hogwarts gamekeeper) that he could successfully brew liquid luck before tomlinson’s birthday in december. unfortunately…
“potions is, sort of, well…” tomlinson trails off. “a weak spot, you could say.”
“a weak spot,” harry repeats.
“yeah, mate. i’m training to be a wandmaker, i’m not even in NEWT-level potions. can barely brew a sleeping draught, let alone felix felicis,” tomlinson admits.
“but you bet that you could make one of the hardest potions possible,” harry says blankly. “even though you aren’t good at potions.”
tomlinson grins embarrassedly. “right, well. that’s why i have you, yeah? i asked around, and everyone said you were the best.”
harry flushes. “well. yeah, sorta.”
tomlinson claps his hands together, and is immediately shushed by madame pince. he doesn’t seem to notice. “excellent.”
so it’s a deal: harry will help him make his liquid luck, and louis will get him his niffler hair. they shake hands, and make plans to meet up in the potions dungeon the following night.
“wait, tomlinson,” harry calls in a whisper before tomlinson leaves.
“call me louis,” he grins, then nods for harry to go on. harry’s heart thumps like a hiccup got stuck in his throat, painful and sharp.
“louis,” harry tries out. “what do you need felix felicis for?”
louis just grins wider, nods again, and walks away.
so they start. they spend a week gathering ingredients and setting up in the dungeon, in the corner where harry usually leaves his long-term potions brewing. they juice squill bulbs and chop up thyme, measure exact perfect portions to store away in case they have to start over and try again. they spend the first hogsmeade weekend together a few weeks after that, shopping for occamy eggs and grabbing a drink at the three broomsticks to celebrate when they find some.
their first attempt goes horribly, terribly wrong, with far too much horseradish making the mixture curdle up and smoke. louis, who’d been the one heavy-handed with the horseradish in the first place, smiles apologetically and clears the cauldron with a flick of his wrist.
“sorry,” he says bashfully. “like i said, rubbish at potions.”
“right,” harry says. “well. time to start over, i suppose.”
so they do. the second attempt goes better; harry’s hand shakes as he squeezes out just a drop of squill bulb juice, but then a drop of his sweat rolls off his nose and into the cauldron, ruining that attempt too. by then it’s october, and he and louis are no closer to a finished batch of felix.
so they’ll try once more.
it’s a long process, if only because they run out of occamy eggs after the second attempt and miranda at Herbs and Tinctures in hogsmeade was told they’d been backordered and it would be a few weeks before they got more. so, instead, harry goes back to work on his own potion; or, more accurately, to stare at his unfinished potion which is also very much stalled. louis thinks it’s funny to sit and watch harry gaze forlornly into his two cauldrons of unfinished potion, so he starts to bring his homework down into the dungeon to make up for all the time he and harry spend together. sometimes louis’ friend niall joins them, his exuberance filling the dungeon, and sometimes harry’s friend liam, a gryffindor prefect who is terrified harry will blow himself up with a bad potion one day, checks in from time to time as well, but mostly it’s just harry and louis left to their own devices.
suddenly, it’s november and they haven’t worked on a potion (either one) in weeks, but it’s okay. louis asks all sorts of questions about harry’s potions and their uses – “wait, muggles can get sick from what? and you fixed it? how?” – and is in awe at harry’s latest attempt.
“’m pureblood, meself,” he says. “can’t imagine getting sick and healers – no, wait, what do muggles call them? doc-something. doctors! – saying that there might be no way for them to help.”
“that’s what i want to fix!” harry says, and louis lets him rant about the state of muggle healthcare for hours, until his stomach growls loudly and he asks harry to accompany him to dinner, where he snags a seat next to harry at the ravenclaw table, takes a bite of pasty, and gestures for harry to continue.
louis gets his chance to do the same, though; harry asks him about wandmaking once and it’s like opening the floodgates – louis’ eyes are always a bit unnaturally sparkly, but when he describes the different phoenix breeds and the strengths each of their tail feathers adds to wands, it’s like seeing a new star in the sky for the first time. harry’s heart does that hiccup again, the one that feels like an impedimenta straight to the sternum.
the occamy eggs arrive in november, less than a month before louis has to have the potion done, and they arrive at exactly the same time as –
“you niffler hair!” louis announces grandly, bounding up to harry in the entrance hall and handing him a small vial of coarse black animal hair.
“where did you get it?” harry gasps, clutching the vial to his chest.
“got a mate named stan,” louis grins. “he can get anything, for anyone.”
harry’s torn; he itches to go try his potion with the new ingredient, but he also has to uphold his end of the bargain, and finish louis’ felix felicis potion. louis, like he can read harry’s thoughts, shakes his head good-naturedly.
“go on,” he laughs. “we can make felix any old time. i have a good feeling about our next attempt. c’mon, i want to see how your potion reacts.”
so they escape to the dungeon, and harry painstakingly adds three tiny hairs to his mixture, then holds his breath and waits. then, just like he’d hypothesized, the potion turns from clear green to cloudy, pearlescent blue.
“it’s done,” harry breathes, and louis claps him on the back as he takes it in, his newest creation.
“you did it,” louis says, and harry suddenly wonders how he was able to ever create a potion before he had louis with him to celebrate at the end.
so all that’s left is the felix felicis, but harry finds himself putting it off when louis suggests they give it a try. he knows it’s because the moment the liquid luck is done, he’ll have no excuse to see louis anymore, but he also hates disappointing louis by telling him “can’t right now, have a defense essay. next week?”
so he finally says yes, and they start the process. ashwinder egg and horseradish, squill bib juice and murtlap algae. louis watches with bated breath over harry’s shoulder and hands over each ingredient at the perfect time, until all that’s left is the powdered rue and to do a bit of stirring.
“you should do it,” harry says when all the ingredients are in the cauldron, bubbling away.
louis takes out his want, waves it once, and says a shaky, “felixempra!”
the potion, which had been clear and smelling profusely of cedar needles, goes thick and molten immediately, shiny gold and filling the room with bright light.
“we did it!” louis whispers, then, yelling, jumps into harry’s arms. “WE DID IT!”
they spin around for a bit, lit by the golden glow from the tiny cauldron full of luck, then harry lets louis back down to gather up his supply. it’s only a small pot, so when louis carefully fills one vial, there’s only about another two portions left. louis doesn’t stopper it, instead holding it up to eye level.
“are you going to tell me what it’s for, now?” harry murmurs, watching louis watch the gold swirling behind the glass.
“nah,” louis says, then lifts the vial to his lips. “i’ll show you instead.”
louis’ throat glows as he swallows, the potion disappearing. louis suddenly looks elated, eyes blue-gold and alight, and he drops the vial perfectly on the edge of the table instead of letting it drop and bust on the floor. he approaches harry slowly, like his limbs aren’t his own.
“what are you doing,” harry mumbles, awestruck.
“i needed all the luck in the world,” louis answers, putting a small, warm hand on the back of harry’s neck, “just for this.”
when he kisses harry, he tastes like apples and honey and smells like rowan trees and cotton; it’s perfect, utterly perfect, mind-blowingly perfect. harry’s mind goes white, overwhelmed as his heart tries to thump its way out of his chest.
when they pull apart, louis’ eyes are dancing. “so it works,” he whispers. “you kissed me back, i must be the luckiest guy in the world.”
“you didn’t need a potion to kiss me,” harry says breathlessly.
“well, drat,” louis says, sounding giddy. “suppose we didn’t need to go to all this trouble after all.”
harry’s mind is still fuzzy from the taste of honey, but it clicks, and he laughs. “there was no bet.”
“oh, there was a bet,” louis says, leaning in again. “niall bet me i’d chicken out before i kissed you.”
“why would you bet that?” harry murmurs against louis’ lips.
“because i’ve loved you for ages, and we’d never even spoken.”
later, niall arrives back at the slytherin seventh years’ dorm and finds a tiny, glowing bottle of golden potion resting in the middle of his pillow. it’s got a ribbon tied around it, a note dangling from the end.
thanks. xx it reads, then at the bottom, all the love. h.
niall grins, then, for the first time, notices that the hangings around louis’ bed are shut tight, but there’s a familiar stack of potion books on the floor next to louis’ bedside table. he chuckles quietly to himself, pockets the little vial of potion, and leaves harry and louis to have their own little bit of luck.
it’s really just porn with plot? it’s older!dachi (like mid-thirties) with a reader who is in her mid twenties. they’ve been seeing each other for a while but it’s the first time that he invites her back home. and the first time they’re fuckin’ essentially. daichi’s kinda cautious because he’s not as trim as he used to be.. it’s not insecurity because he understands that he’s a decent looking dude, but more of a consideration for how young reader is and he wonders if she’s really into him like that? or if it’s the security/thrill of dating an older man? but essentially he and reader get down to it and he expects her to react differently than she does when his clothes start coming off. of course, reader is crazy turned on and daichi kinda goes feral over that? so yeah!
