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legolasghosty · 10 months

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I blame @latinposeidon for this. This post he made inspired it. I failed in the 'Don't write a ficlet' department. Enjoy!

Hmmmm, which color, Willie wondered, his fingers dancing over the sea of black lids in Julie's drawer. Okay, this probably wasn't what she'd meant when she said he could borrow some of her stuff for the band's gig tonight, but well, Willie had been eyeballing her nail polish collection for like a month now.

What, it was pretty. The little flashes of color always caught their eye in the best way when other people wore it. And without Caleb around to police their wardrobe choices, he could finally give it a try.

Though maybe there was a reason Willie hadn't just asked Julie outright if he could borrow hers. Maybe he was a bit nervous about how it would look. Maybe they couldn't quite shake Caleb's disapproving glares, couldn't always ignore the nightmares of that same expression coming from the faces of Julie or Luke or Reggie...

Willie tried not to think about the dreams where Alex gave him that look.

But those were just dreams and this was real. Willie wanted to do this and they were going to. He just had to pick a color already.

"Everybody decent in-" Julie started, entering the room and cutting herself off at the sight of Willie hunched over her desk. "What's going on in here?" she asked slowly.

Oh geez, this wasn't good. She was going to get mad. Boys weren't supposed to wear nail polish. And they definitely weren't supposed to just take stuff without asking. There went Willie's friendship with the one lifer who could see him-

"Ooo, are we doing nails?" Julie questioned, peering over their shoulder into the drawer. "Perfect, I needed to do something with mine anyways."

Willie just stared at her for a long moment. What? She wasn't upset? Why wasn't she upset? Was she pretending? Why would she-

"Willie, you're spiraling," Julie said softly, touching his arm. "You're doing that same glazed-over thing Reggie does. What's going on?"

Willie shook his head. Right. This was Julie, not Caleb. She'd already let them borrow and tie up her hoodies and oversized band shirts more than once. She hadn't batted an eye when he walked in on Alex braiding their hair. It was fine.

"I just haven't painted my nails before," Willie confessed, voice much softer than he'd intended. "Caleb didn't let us."

Julie bit her lower lip and nodded. Willie didn't talk about Caleb much, so he wasn't surprised that she didn't really know what to do with this information.

"It's fine," he added. "Just got in my head for a second." More than a second, but who was counting? "Well there's no Caleb here now," Julie said after another silent moment. She reached for the drawer, fingers wrapping around one of the bottles. "What color do you want?" Willie was a little startled by their own laughter. "Well that's what I was trying to figure out," they explained, twisting the black ring around their middle finger.

Julie gave him a long, appraising look. "How do you feel about pink?" she asked, after taking in his black shorts and purple and white crop top.

"Isn't pink more Alex's color?" Willie asked slowly. He couldn't stop himself from checking out the options though. That one was almost the same color Alex's cheeks got when Willie kissed them.

"Well yeah, so it'll make him lose his mind," Julie retorted. "Pick a color."

Willie grinned and grabbed a cotton candy bottle of polish.

"Perfect," Julie agreed, choosing a dark purple color of her own. "I'll do you, you do me."

Willie nodded, grinning. They perched on her desk, letting her take the chair. Julie laid out some paper towels in case of any drips and they got to work.

And Alex did lose his mind a bit over the pink on Willie's fingertips. Though he confessed later, when it was just the two of them curled up in the loft of the garage, that it was Willie's grin that got him first. And really, what was Willie supposed to say to that? Alex was just being too cute. All Willie could really do was kiss him at that point, his pink nails tangled in the pink string of Alex's hoodie.

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #willex #jatp #alex mercer #willie jatp #they're cute your honor #Willie deserves a hug and some nail polish

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gaslightgallows · 7 months

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September 2023 Writing Round-Up

I just checked my tags, and I haven't done one of these since… three years ago. Exactly three years ago yesterday (9/29/20), to be precise. Which was pretty much when my mental health and my personal life started to crumble in earnest, and it took my desire to write for public consumption along with it.

Most of what I did for the rest of 2020/2021 were either struggling to finish works in progress (and largely failing) or archiving stuff from my LJ days. I didn't post anything in 2022. I was still writing (a lot) but it was either for Patreon (…fuck, right, I have a Patreon) or it was personal, not meant to be shared.

And then Good Omens came back and ended up being really fucking relevant to my life, and @meldanya44 was there urging me to get back into writing for other people besides her. I think it was a good idea, over all. ♥

So… yeah. Thanks, Good Omens fandom, for reminding me that writing is meant to be shared, and that I am a prompt-based lifeform. (I'll be putting up a new prompt list tomorrow, if anyone wants an artisanally crafted bespoke ficlet of their very own.)

Anyway, here's what I did in September:

Authorial Intent (G, one-shot): Michael’s plan to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life has certain… flaws. A revision of the final season of S2 Ep6, where the Metatron does not make an appearance. (Actually posted at the end of August but this is my list and it counts. Written very shortly after I finished S2 for the first time. Effervescing with joy.)

Put Out the Stars (T, currently a one-shot, planning to continue): Crowley stole the photo of himself and Aziraphale from the shop a long time ago. (Inspired by one of @fellshish's asks. Angst angst angst… with more to come!)

An Invisible Wound (T, one-shot): “I almost killed you tonight.” “I almost got you killed tonight.” Their first kiss, soft and futile, is in 1941. (Bittersweet canon-compliant 1941 truthers unite.)

After the Rain (T, one-shot; for @meldanya44): The Second Coming has come and gone, and Crowley was calling him ‘angel’ again. (Wonderful quiet post-series fluff.)

Like Petals in a Storm (M, currently a standalone but working on a sequel; for @meldanya44): Between the discorporation and the almost-execution, Aziraphale’s having a bit of trouble keeping body and soul together. (My reputation-mandated 'one partner helps another bathe' fic.)

The Taste of Salt (G, one-shot; for @iamhisgloriouspurpose): The lingering taste of ox ribs are bitter and rich in Aziraphale's mouth, and he isn't sure what he believes anymore. (Continues the 'I'm not taking you to Hell, angel' scene in the Ep2 minisode. Nice and angsty. No one seems to like this one and I'm not sure why.)

Pipe Dream (G, one-shot; for @unwholesome-gay): All Aziraphale has ever wanted is to give heaven back to Crowley. (Domestic fluff about Aziraphale buying the South Downs cottage for Crowley. Fun fact: I struggled to write this and finally posted it in dismay and tried to forget about it. And then my inbox exploded with HEARTS, so I guess it wasn't as bad as I thought.)

The Patience of Angels, Chs 1-4 (M, multi-chapter WIP): An old enemy is on the hunt for the demon known as Crowley, and it will take all the powers of one very protective angel to save him. But in keeping Crowley safe, Aziraphale will uncover more of the terrible truths of Heaven than he ever wanted to know. (The longfic I first conceived of in 2019 and then never got around to finishing enough to post, and am now trying to revise the HELL out of in real-time because the original version doesn't work anymore. I love this fic with a burning passion and hope it finds an audience someday… which it probably will if I can update it, y'know, more often than once a month…)

Fics Posted: 8 Word Count: 28,182

I'm never going to be as prolific as I was when I was in the MCU fandom and had a much less-hectic job, but I'd call that a decent comeback. Thanks, everyone. ♥

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #prompt fills #monthly round-up #meldanya44

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lilolilyr · 8 months

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A Milippa double-drabble for day 6 of the @startrekfemslashweek: Michael in a time loop

I've been thinking about writing a time loop story where one of them is stuck in the loop alone for so long, she tries different things to break free, nothing works, then she tries to at least have fun during her time in the loop, try to live the perfect day (and getting together with the love interest, in this case Michael with Philippa)... and she has some great days, but when she tries to relive them a small detail goes differently and all goes to hell... and of course even if it does work, all the work is for nothing when the next day starts everything all over again... and at some point she's so frustrated she doesn't want to bother with that work anymore, feeling lonely and frustrated and I mean being stuck in a time loop has got to be a frustrating experience... And the protagonist lashing out in frustration could go any number of ways, and the guilt for doing something wrong that no-one else will know has happened once time runs normally again would be so interesting to explore! But I don't have the time to write that, so I just ended up with this small one-shot :) if anyone is inspired to write more, feel free!

Ficlet under the cut! Warning: kissing without consent

On her twenty-seventh time in the time loop, Michael woke up, and she knew the first thing she'd do upon seeing Philippa was to kiss her.

It couldn't go any worse than the last five cycles of misunderstandings or lies about not having lived this before, and Philippa wouldn't remember it anyway, so what would it matter?

She met her in the turbolift, crowded Philippa against the wall, pressed her lips to hers.

Saw the shock in Philippa's eyes, the betrayal at stealing a kiss without asking, and at wrecking the balance of friends without any benefits they have held over years.

Because Philippa doesn't know what Michael has lived. That, in some most beautiful versions of this day when everything went just right, Philippa was the one to slowly lean in and kiss Michael, just hours or minutes before the loop started over again.

Michael stumbled back, suddenly filled with nothing but regret, the loss of the hours spent being loved by Philippa, regret over assaulting her now. Yes, Philippa wouldn't remember any of it, but... it still mattered.

Turning away, Michael wasn't sure whether she could accept any kisses from Philippa if another day in the time loop went that way again.

She didn't feel worthy of it.

#scheduled #idk whether this passes muster of the no noncon? it's just kissing but idk #and it's under a cut #startrekfemslashweek #startrekfemslashweek2023 #milippa #my milippa #lilo writes #time loop #lilo writes fanfic #dsc #my post #mine #sept'23 #tag later

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paldean-ranger-brandy · 9 months

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(@friendball-irl) OOC: No pressure or anything, especially since we haven't interacted much, but if you'd be willing to write a ficlet about an interaction between Brandy and Gray, I'd be thrilled! It probably could be about purchasing a custom Poke Ball or something, since that's a pretty reasonable excuse for the two of them to get in contact! Preferably the interaction would be digital, seeing as Gray hasn't been to Paldea yet, if that's alright. Again, no pressure, but I thought I'd at least send in the request!

[The following is a transcript of an IM conversation between Brandy Grovehurst and @friendball-irl]

Monday, June 3

Brandy: Hey there, stranger. I know we haven’t ever really met, but I hear you’re the guy to talk to for custom pokeballs. Gray: Hey! Nice to meet you. You heard correct – what kind of pokeball are you looking for? Brandy: Great, glad the rumor mill came through on this one. I just hatched a poochyena puppy, and she’s got a lot of health issues that are going to be an ongoing thing for her. She’s a rescue from a very unethical breeder.

Brandy: The vet suggested having a ball custom made for her to help support her. Most of her issues seem to be in her bone and muscle mass, so something to stop her from deteriorating as she gets older. Brandy: Idk, they said something about a heal ball? I’m not and have never been a trainer, so I’m really kind of out of my depth with this one. Gray: Oh jeez, I’m sorry to hear that. Caring for a pokemon that has those types of long term health issues can be really difficult. I’ll do what I can to make a supportive pokeball for her. I find a mix of timer ball and heal ball properties are best for these kinds of pokemon, to provide that long-term, low-grade healing effect. Brandy: That sounds perfect. Gray: Great. Are you also going to want any sort of visual customization? Brandy: Visual customization? Gray: Yeah, like any sort of special designs. I’m going to have to put some sort of design on the ball, so I like to check if there’s any kind of look that you would prefer. Brandy: Oh, that’s sick actually. Well, I looked up what a heal ball looks like and…definitely not that. No pink please. Red and black are my colours. Um, is that enough? Gray: Haha, no. But I can go through your blog for a bit of inspiration. Are you alright with me taking some artistic liberties? Brandy: Yeah man, absolutely go for it. Gray: Great. Can I grab your email to send you the invoice? I’ll start working on it once I get the deposit. Brandy: For sure, send it to [email protected].

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, June 8

Gray: Hey there, just about done with your order. Mind if I send you a picture of the design for your approval before sealing it all in? Brandy: Oh, great! Yeah man, let’s see it.

Brandy: Holy shit that’s so COOL Brandy: Aw you got my little 🖤 on there. I love using 🖤 Brandy: This looks amazing. So glad I don’t have to carry around a pink n yellow ball for my special little lady.

Gray: I’m glad you like it! It should have better specs to support your little poochyena as well. I’ll get the design sealed and sent over to you within the next few days. Brandy: Hell yeah, I’m excited. Thank you! Would happily recommend to anyone. If ever you need a ranger favour or like…idk, tree advice, just hit me up. Gray: Ha, will do. Best to you and your puppy! Brandy: Thanks!

#ooc post #100 followers event #friendball #if you saw me screw up the @ no you didnt

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arrowflier · 1 year

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2022 fic writer's interview

Thanks to @thisdivorce, @energievie, @vintagelacerosette for the tags!

1. How many works do you have on AO3

59--but quite a few are compilations, which would basically double it.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

460,173

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Meet the Neighbors (I'm coming back to it soonish I swear)

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

Marriage, Mickey, and Milk of the Gods

Being His Baby Don't Make Me a Bitch

In Case of Emergency

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes. I go through phases of trying to be better about it, but my brain is also weird and I start to feel conceited if I keep saying thank you😅 I always massively appreciate them though, it makes me so happy!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any, except for maybe a couple of galladrabbles like this one

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They have to end to have a happy ending lol, but basically anything that's done.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I'm never sure what can be classed as a crossover, but I've done 911 (In Case of Emergency), Jurassic Park (Tooth and Claw), sort of X-Men, sort of Star Wars (with ideas for a full fic that may or may not come to be), and probably some I'm forgetting.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Just once I think, and it was just someone who really doesn't like Vee's nickname being spelled with more than one letter.🤣

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, and I'm way too proud of it lol. It's mostly way too wordy and flowery language abounds because that's also the only way I can read it😂 I've got a collection of ficlets here from when I first started to write NSFW by request, and other assorted works.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be really cool!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Calli (@ianandmickeygallavich1) and I have been playing around with one (very slowly on my part) that you can find under the tag #arrow&calli write

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I phase in and out of quite a few but right now Gallavich

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I refuse to say I won't finish anything I've started posting lol, but there are a couple things in an old doc that will probably never see the light of day.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I usually say description, but I've been struggling with it lately. Funnily enough, I think dialogue has been working best for me even though I've traditionally been uncomfortable with it.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Overcomplicating things: the plot, the sentence structure, everything. If I can overdo something I will.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done it once and I think it worked out ok, but I avoid it in general because I don't want to screw it up.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Shameless! Pretty much the only, too.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Good Omens and Our Flag Means Death, both of which I've previously planned things for but never followed through on. I'd be open to a pretty wide range of others but haven't had specific inspiration.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm gonna not limit myself on this, because I haven't felt like I like any of it lately but I was looking through my own stuff for these questions and honestly had forgotten so many I'm kinda proud of? So...

My first fic, because it got me here: F*ck the Stars

My latest fic, because I enjoyed writing for the first time in a while: Countdown to Christmas

My zine fic and my spicy collab fics, just because it was so cool to be part of the group: One hundred hours (without you here) and Show me (to) your garden

And my experiment with a short magic AU from a different of POV, because it was fun if a bit haphazard: Methods of Magic

I know this has gone around a bit already, but I'll tag @celestialmickey @abundanceofnots @iansfreckles @sweetbee78 @whatthebodygraspsnot @wehangout @sickness-health-all-that-shit just in case🥰

#I was gonna do the art one too but don't do it enough or have any techniques to speak of lol #well I might anyway we'll see😂#may all of us find the words we want in the new year!#tag game #writing stuff

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polizwrites · 1 year

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WIP Update - 15 Mar 2023

aA more normal week, writing wise. I touched 4 fics (1 WIPs & 3 new works) for a total of 2139 words.

On Ao3, I posted:

The second and final chapter of Wraps Around My Heart (Refusing to Unwind) [WinterIron hanahaki]

The Captain and the Soldier [Stucky prose poem double drabble]

On Tumblr I posted:

Not Having Fun Down on the Bayou [SamBucky mission shenanigans]

I have 13 active WIPs with my current deadlines being the Stucky and Avengers bingos.

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing Morguna and the Green Queen, I got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked Faustie into collab’ing with me! We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve contributed about 478 words so far.

Stucky Bingo Round Four [SB_R4] (Ends 31 May 2023)

Fourteen fills and one WIP with a couple of other vague ideas.

* B1 - Mutual Pining - no specific idea, but it’s so On Brand for me I’m sure I’ll come up with something! (maybe the Centerfold fic idea I’ve been toying with)

* B2 - “Hold on. You can’t even drive a car.” - Used this for the March Stucky Bingo Discord party Round Robin this past weekend. I kicked off a wartime mission fic by writing 325 words - will share the link once it’s posted.

* N1 - AU: Fairytale - Posted The Captain and the Soldier to Ao3 this morning - I stretched this prompt a little to combine it with the FFC23 Day 15: Ice prompt for a double drabble that is vaguely inspired by The Snow Queen (Hans Christian Andersen).

* O4 - AU: Supernatural - got inspired by a dream to start a Stucky fantasy AU (magician!Steve/ensorcelled!Bucky) that @bill-longbow is collaborating on with me. We’re currently sitting at 1640 words (984-ish of which are mine). Will probably continue on this sometime in March. Current Last Line: "My men will accompany you back to Brookline in the morning.”

I also adopted the Writing Format: Remix one of your fics square – am thinking of taking one of my Stony or WinterIron No Powers fics and adapting it to a Stucky pairing – if you have any requests - hit me up!

WinterIron - No Powers AU – Stony No Powers AU

Avengers Bingo Round Four [AvB_R4] (Ends 2 June)

This time around the card is a 3x3, so am looking at writing different pairings for my two favorite Avengers - Tony and Steve. I have 3 fills completed and two WIPs, with a couple more ideas in play.

* B3 - Mistaken Identity - I’m planning a third chapter of my Tony/Rhodey Western AU Decision at Sundown based on the ficlet I wrote to fill the “Wet Your Whistle” FFC23 prompt. The expansion will make both this square (and probably the fic itself) more explicit. 😁

* C1 - Babysitter AU - will probably combine with ACB babysitting square for some sort of Stucky or Stony shenanigans; over on the STB Discord server, MagicaDraconia16 and I are talking about a potential collab.

* C3 - Dog Tags - seems like a good Steve/Bucky (or Steve/Sam?) square.

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1] (Ends 30 Sep 2023)

This new bingo focuses on Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson as its main characters - paired up with each other or anyone else! I’ve got five completed fics, two WIPs and will be pursuing the One Fill, One Bingo Challenge -

* B1 - Knotting - Working on a Cap!Steve/Modern Sex Worker!Bucky A/B/O AU fic - up to 1296 words and they’ve barely even touched...

* B2 - AU: Fugitive - I combined this with the FF23 Pirate AU prompt to write Flying the Flag of Freedom. I plan on expanding it to bring Sam aboard (so to speak) but need to do some more research first.

* B4 - Walk on the Beach - squished this into Chapter 3 of Make My Heart Come All Undone - No Powers AU selkie!Tony / Bucky meet-cute. It came in at 948 words.

* N4 - Deserted Island - combined this with last week’s Flash Fiction Friday’s prompt [#FFF192 Sea and Sun] for Not Having Fun Down on the Bayou - Sam & Bucky missionfic shenanigans. It will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.

* G4 - Babysitting - see AvB Babysitting AU above.

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - may try to squish this into an expansion of A Rising Star - a previous Flash Fiction Friday fill.

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3] (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

Finally got my square incorporated into my Master Bingo tracking workbook and have one fill. I have a few squares I want to swap & will probably start tacking this and the All Caps bingo in earnest this month.

G1 - Rescue Mission - I combined this with last week’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF190 Trapped in the Dark] to write a Sam & Bucky mission fic hurt/comfort ficlet: Down in the Hole (Some Emotions Are Hard to Hide) It came in at 525 words and will get posted to Ao3 sometime next month.

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

WinterIron Bingo - [WIB_R1] (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

A brand new bingo event that I’m helping mod! Signups for custom cards began on the 10th and will run through the 10th of April. For more info visit @bingowinteriron or PM me.

Still getting my thoughts together on what to match up with other cards, but I think I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). -- Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and Blind date

————

On other creative fronts: I have a Neptune the Turtle figure in progress - still working on the figures/props for my three Marvel Trumps Hate auction winners as well (7 of 8 done so far) – thanks so much for your generous support!! I also have multiple commissions from the Hall of Heroes Comic Con to work on and am prepping for a con in June so am pretty well booked up through early summer.

That said, if you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations later in the year, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 100!). They’re mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #WIP Update #WIP Wednesday #shameless self promo

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heyjude19-writing · 2 years

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hey jude! did you take any creative writing classes before you started to write RN? Do you have any recommendation of possible things you did to improve your writing enough to give you the courage to start writing the story that was in your head for 10 years?

Hey anon! I’m gonna write you a big, long thing because i fucking love talking about writing. Ready? Okay!

Without getting too specific, i do edit/write for my day job, so i’ve taken many a writing course throughout my education/life which helped me with the basics, but it’s been quite some time since ive taken any formal classes. As far as creative writing, that was always my hobby. Sitting down and writing RN after a damn decade was less about feeling like i had improved enough to get it out and more of a mental health thing. My anxiety said “god, just write it already, it’ll help” and then the pandemic said “god, just share it, not many people will read it and you’ll feel better” and here we are.

What’s helped me improve since and kept me going:

Writing more. I’m no longer holding myself back from writing down any and every idea that comes to mind, whether it be for fanfic or original writing. None of these ideas even have to go anywhere, i’ve just allowed myself to enjoy the act of writing and it’s helped me immensely. Sometimes I revisit these little pieces and read them again for fun, or add a bit more, or go incorporate them into something larger I’m working on. Not all writing has to be productive! But I firmly believe it does help you grow the more you do it.

Challenging myself. I’ll stress that when i say this, i mean i am challenging myself in a fun way, not in a “let’s make this as frustrating as possible” way. Experimenting with story length is one thing I love as a writer. Drabbles and ficlets are wonderful ways to work on specific skills, because you are so limited by the word count. This type of quick-bite writing forced me to remove dialogue tags i’d normally use, delete most adverbs, get rid of unnecessary qualifiers like “very” and “just” to save space for the actual story.

Genre experimentation. I recently wrote my first horror fic and i’m quite proud of it. It made me realize how much i enjoyed writing in that arena and might be something i look to do for original work. It forced me to take familiar characters i was so used to writing one way and draw out different facets of their personalities to make sense for a darker plot. If you are ever at all tempted to try a different story genre, just go for it. I learned a lot about my own craft while doing this.

Read more. I’m sure you’ve seen this a lot as far as writing advice goes, but i promise it’s true. To use my horror example again, I was reading a novel where wings burst out of a character’s back and it was a real mindfuck moment as a reader and then my mind just spiraled with inspiration for my own stuff from there. You might come across a phrase or a style of prose that grabs you by the throat and then holds your brain hostage. There are so many ways to tell the same story, and reading more will expose you to all these differences. It lets you find out what’s not for you (ex. writing from a ton of different povs in one story is not for me) and what you’d want to try out for yourself (ex. Im itching to eventually write a first-person pov).

Another recommendation if we’re talking about longer form stories (and i feel like i give this advice a lot): find out what kind of outliner you are. I LOVE the outline process. It’s my chance to word-vomit all over a fresh word doc any and every idea that comes to mind for the plot, the characters, scenes, dialogue snippets, etc. I love to bullet point scenes, sketch out some important character moments. None of this involves finesse, or craft, it’s all the ideas phase and it’s when I feel my most creative. Once i’ve got a story fully outlined, I go back and actually write out all these scenes (not necessarily in order, i’m not one who needs to write chronologically). Other writers I know just start from their first sentence and go from there, not allowing themselves to jump ahead. Find out which way works for you, because you’re the one who will need to read all of it over and spend so much time with it. Outlining makes me EXCITED about stories and helps pump me up to write and share them.

Talking with other writers. It was hard when I first posted RN and didnt know anyone in the community. But by putting myself out there it led to conversations and friendships with other writers. It’s a resource i’m incredibly grateful for, to have people just as nerdy as i am about writing, trading tips or asking for advice/encouragement or just to double-check im not insane and actually did use the word “belie” correctly. It can be intimidating, but if you havent already and are comfortable, check out some online writing groups/discords.

Don’t feel like you have to follow every “writing rule.” It’s so easy to get bogged down in “you’re supposed to write THIS way” and you find yourself looking at a paragraph of soulless words that while technically correct, don’t say very much at all. I personally find it intimidating to try and improve all the things at once and it makes me hate the process. I’ve found concentrating on one aspect for improvement makes me feel like im growing without overwhelming myself. For example, i made a conscious effort in a recent story to not rely on adverbs so much, and when a reader noticed this in a comment, I was fucking elated.

Okay and now to get a little pollyanna for a second. It does take courage to share your work on a public platform and open it up for public consumption/opinion. Your writing won’t be for everyone, but it is yours. You will spend the most time with it (in your head and on paper/screen) so it helps if you like it. What really matters, i promise, is that you like your own writing.

I hope you found this helpful and good luck with your writing! My ask box is always open 💕💕

#thoughts on writing #writing advice #fic writing #writing

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delta-pavonis · 1 year

Note

How about 🤡, ✨, 🎶, and 💖 for the writer asks?

Thanks for the questions @tj-dragonblade!!

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

OK, I am going to give two, one recent, one older:

Hob also learned that Dream’s form in the Waking, human though it may appear and human though it might respond to Hob’s touch, was not human at all in its hunger for pleasure. He had seen hints before, in the months since Dream had revealed his true nature to Hob, that the vastness of his being was not always well-contained in human form. This was no different, Dream bleeding away from his humanness the further entangled they became.

The short of it was that, in the shockingly brief time it took his dick to rally an interest in the proceedings again, Hob had been so filled with semen you could have mistaken him for a navy ship. -- from Chapter 3 of high enough (you got me good)

(Context for the next one is that it is an OC of mine, Mett, who is nonbinary and uses primarily he/him pronouns in the Star Trek: Discovery and Star Trek: Strange New Worlds universes. This is part of how he and Ash Tyler shack up. They end up in a committed triad with Chris Pike in a 48k+ fic I haven't finished yet. Whee!)

They collapsed on the couch, Ash’s full weight on Mett, who wriggled in delight, a wholly dopey smile on both their faces. Ash sighed, his nose buried in the back of Mett’s neck. “I think that went well.”

Mett giggled and then whimpered as Ash shifted out of him the last bit. He reached back to pat Ash on the hip. “Baby, if you think I am even halfway done with you after that performance…” Mett rolled his hips back and Ash gasped. “I’ve got some of my own tricks. Which I will gladly show you. Once I gather a few more brain cells back together.”

Ash laughed and rubbed his still-hard cock along the crack of Mett’s ass. “I am ready when you are.”

“Jesus. You…” Mett rolled his hips again to confirm. “Fuck, you’re still hard.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mett snorted. After a beat, “Sorry about your shirt.”

“No you’re not.” Ash’s voice was amused and light. “I’m certainly not.”

“Good.” Mett rolled his shoulders back and started to push up. “Gotta pee. Shove off or you’re gonna get wet.”

Ash stood and stretched, hands brushing the ceiling of the room. “Eh, not my kink.”

He felt a hand patting his hip. “We are gonna get along just fine.”

“Because we weren’t already?” Ash quipped... -- from Chapter 2 of Sagitta

(this last one from Sagitta isn't that funny, but it tickles me pink, so there.)

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

JFC, I am ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE AT THIS. <Stitch eye-pulling GIF> OK, I am really really fucking happy with how a wrote first-person POV for Hob in i had a dream (i got everything i wanted). That is the first time I have ever felt really PROUD of my own fiction writing.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Usually not, although I have a few songs that specifically have inspired (very vaguely) fics. The one I am working on right now has its home in Veruca Salt's Seether, one of my favorite songs of all time.

💖 What made you start writing?

*shakes cane* Back in my day...

No, really, somewhere in the depths of some external hard drive are the fics that I wrote 100% for myself in middle and high school. Never published, ever ever, and will never see the light of day. These were places I explored my identity as bisexual and how I preferred power dynamics in relationships.

I have put fic up on AO3 when I have been truly inspired by some source. Episode 6 of The Sandman absolutely hit that button HARD for me. And then I got into the fandom, my first venture back into fandom since the early MCU, and YOU PEOPLE ARE SO FUCKING SUPPORTIVE AND AMAZING AND IT IS WONDERFUL. There was a HUGE response to my first less than 400 word Dreamling ficlet on AO3 and the Sandfam support just pushed me from there.

#learn about pavonis

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apatheticcinaroll · 2 years

Text

The Life of a Writer

"do i want to write this story or start an entirely new one?"

"fuck he's out of character..."

"whoever says that you need classical music to concentrate on your work is a liar. im listening to heavy metal and vibing"

"wait, did i spell that right on the first try?!" *googles word anyways*

*constantly checking google for definitions*

"this is the third time i've mentioned soup in a conversation these two are having... maybe i should stop"

"when was the last time i got up to eat?"

*deletes an entire paragraph while crying*

posting after editing: "editing is hell, why do i do it?"

posting after not editing: "oh no i made so many mistakes..."

"WOOP THAT'S A CONTINUITY ERROR"

*gets inspiration from the most random shit*

"oh yay, how am i going fix that plothole?"

"why is no one commenting on my fic? do they all hate me now?"

"i have the best writing style in the world, and no one can stop me."

"i would kill for that person's writing style."

"i am going to beat the next person to interrupt me with a bat."

*random inspiration during work/school*

in bed going to sleep: "fuck i haven't written today"

*random internal lecture about the most obscure parts of writing*

"I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S NOT REAL, I MADE THIS GIRL AND I LOVE HER!"

*re-reading old works* "you know, once you get past the garbage writing, it's not that bad.

"i wrote a fifteen-hundred word ficlet in an hour, but it took me a whole day to get this five-hundred word paper done..."

"i started studying modern witchcraft for a character, and no im a practicing witch... cool."

*hoards notebooks and cool pens, fully knowing i will never touch them because they are sacred.*

#writing problems #writing thoughts #creative writing #writeblr #writing community #random thoughts

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

Note

If the inspiration takes you, would you be able to write a lil something about a misunderstanding and miscommunication? Light angst ficlet with a happy ending? I love your fics, thank you for sharing your talent with us and choosing this fandom!

okay I had to think about this one for a second, because as y'all know I don't normally write angst, but here we are! also thank you for your kind words ;-; although I'm not really sure I chose spn I think I just got sucked into the vortex and here we are.

I hope you enjoy this ficlet! (also imagine this is a fake season 9. where dean doesn't kick cas from the bunker and they go on hunts <3) (also this got way out of hand I'm so sorry)

*********

It was supposed to be a milk run.

Of course, half the time that they get a case that's "supposed to be a milk run," it ends with one of them almost dying, just for the hell of it, and today's no exception.

Sam's off on a different hunt in Colorado, so it's just Dean and Cas, which is no problem. Dean trusts Cas to watch his six, to watch everything.

Or, at least, it isn't a problem until their "milk run" turns into a really pissed-off poltergeist (to be fair, Dean'd be pretty pissed if someone was shooting at him), and then Dean gets hurled halfway back to Kansas, it feels like, and by the time he comes to with a pounding in his head and a searing pain in his shoulder, said poltergeist is gone and Cas is standing over him with a big, bleeding gash across his face.

Every time Cas gets hurt these days, it's like a fucking train wreck. He tries to heal himself, and then he can't, and he gets all moody and sullen, which, like, Dean can understand, but it doesn't make it any easier, and to make matters worse today Cas tried to heal Dean, and now they're sitting in the Impala in complete silence while Dean drives, trying to ignore his aching right shoulder.

"Where're we going?" Cas finally asks, picking at his sweater's sleeves. Dean's already mentally going over what might be best to get the blood out of it--lemon juice? Vinegar? He read in a magazine that hairspray is good for stains, oddly enough, but of course he doesn't own any--

"The hospital," Dean answers.

"So you can dump me there?"

"So I can--what?!" Dean takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at Cas, staring out the windshield. He's got one hand messing with his sweater and the other holding Dean's flannel over his still-bleeding face. "We're going 'cause if I try to stitch up that cut, I'm gonna end up stabbing you in the eye."

"You have very steady hands."

"Not when I'm worried. Let's go back to the dumping thing." Dean glances at Cas again. "Why would I leave you in a hospital?"

Cas shrugs. "I'm not useful anymore. Without my grace."

"That's a crock of shit, and you know it."

"Do I?"

Dean lets out a sigh and pulls the car over, trucks honking behind him. He doesn't think Cas is going to bleed out, and if this flannel gets soaked, there's another in the trunk.

"Look." Dean turns his body to completely face Cas, which crunches his legs, but this is important. "I know I'm shit with words, but you gotta hear me. First of all, I've been hunting since I was a kid, without an angel, and I'm still alive."

"Actually, you died and I--"

"Shut up. Second of all, I know in your head you're an angel first, but in my head, you're Cas first. You don't stop being Cas just because Metatron took your grace."

Cas doesn't respond, and it's actually kinda hard to tell what he's thinking when half of his face is covered in a bloody flannel, so Dean reaches out a hand to tug on Cas's wrist and pull the fabric off.

Okay, that's a lot of blood.

"You get me?" Dean asks, and Cas nods. Dean slides back to his seat and starts the car.

"What'd you mean about being worried?" Cas finally asks.

"What?" Dean turns to see if there are any cars coming and then pulls back onto the highway.

"You said you didn't have steady hands when you're worried."

"Put the flannel back on," Dean says. "I'm worried about you, dumbass."

"Because I'm--"

"Yes, because you're bleeding out of your face!" Dean curses and pulls over again. "For the love of god, Cas. What am I gonna have to do to convince you that I care about you?"

Before Dean even asks the question, though, he knows the answer. He's known the answer for a while, since last year in purgatory. Since he prayed to Cas for year, killed monsters to find him. Since Cas didn't make it out and Dean saw his face everywhere. Since Cas appeared behind him in a random motel, covered in dirt and grime.

Since he found Cas lying dead in an armchair, shirt ripped and stomach sliced open, since he lied to April to bring Cas back.

When humans want something really bad, we lie.

Well, Dean's gonna be truthful for a second. He's tried to say it before, in different words, words like that's the hardest I've laughed in a long time or I'd rather have you, cursed or not or nobody gets left behind or I need you.

He might as well say it straight.

"We're never going to get to the hospital if you keep doing this," Cas points out helpfully, and Dean just about rolls his eyes.

"Well then shut up and listen. I like myself, and the world, a whole lot better when you're around. And I like you."

"You like me."

"I love you."

Okay, he didn't mean to say that.

Yet.

Cas's reaction happens slowly and then all at once. One second, he's staring at Dean, almost blankly (although it's hard to read his expression because, once again, flannel on his face), and then the next second he's dropped the fabric and is kissing Dean.

It's actually kinda gross, because of all the blood, but Dean's mind has also stopped working so he doesn't notice that much. There's been dozens of times over the years that he's wanted to do this, more than he can count, and the shock doesn't recede until Cas is pulling away.

"My head hurts," Cas finally says.

"Okay, we're going." Dean pulls back onto the highway for real this time, although he takes one hand off the wheel and finds Cas's free hand on the seat.

(Their second kiss, after Cas has gotten stitches and one of the other nurses at the emergency room helpfully relocates Dean's shoulder, is a lot less bloody.

The rest all run together.)

#anon ask <3 #nice people!!!#offbeatwrites #this got out of hand so fast and went in like ten different directions #whoops #long post #:D #I hope this is what you wanted anon? probably is not I am so sorry

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honestlydarkprincess · 3 years

Text

Stay Here (Buck x Eddie)

Buddie Ficlet - 1k, Rated G.

for @trashbaget and @fearlessbuck because ily and talking to you gave me inspiration to write this 💖

Buck knew that the extra shifts Eddie had been picking up were starting to take a toll on the older man. Eddie had tried to hide it— how exhausted he was— and it might have fooled everyone else, but not Buck.

Buck knew that he should have made more of an effort to get them out of dinner at Bobby and Athena’s— steadfast ignoring the little voice in his head that asked him just why he felt like he could make excuses for the both of them— but the entire team was going and Buck didn’t want to bring attention to the fact that Eddie was almost dead on his feet.

Eddie would just deny it— did deny it— claiming he was fine, Buck seriously stop worrying so much, but Buck could see the dark circles under his best friend’s eyes, the way he seemed to have to drag his body as he walked. Buck had decided that if Eddie wasn’t going to go home and sleep, like he should, then Buck was going to do everything in his power to make him as comfortable as possible.

There was only one seat left on the couch? Eddie got it and Buck sat on the floor, awkwardly curling his long limbs with an innocent smile when Eddie looked at him with suspicion.

Eddie needed a drink? Buck was up and getting it for him before anyone else even had the chance to offer.

Christopher was sleepy after playing with Denny and Harry for so long? Buck carried him back to the truck, buckling him in and pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

Buck was thankful that they had chosen to drive over together— they were taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow so it just made sense for Buck to stay the night, right?

Eddie made a move to get into the drivers seat and Buck just shook his head, guiding him gently to the other side of the car and helping him into the passenger seat. It was a testament to how tired Eddie was that he barely protested, just gave Buck an exasperated look but otherwise let him do what he wanted.

The drive back to Eddie’s house was quiet and as Buck pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, he realized that both Diaz boys were sound asleep.

Buck shook his head fondly— see, Eddie, I told you you were tired! He slipped out of the car and jogged up to the front door, using his key to unlock it and leave it open. Making his way back to the car, he got Christopher out and into his arms without the boy waking once.

Buck got Christopher into the house and set him down on his bed, whispering that he would be right back before leaving to collect his second favourite Diaz.

Eddie gave a sleepy grumble when Buck opened his door and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Come on, Eds,” Buck whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“M’comfy,” Eddie murmured, not opening his eyes. He was clearly lying, his head was at an awkward angle and Buck knew Eddie hated sleeping in jeans, so no, he wasn’t comfortable.

Buck rolled his eyes. Well, looks like he was going to be carrying Eddie in too, much like he just did for his son.

Getting Eddie into the house was surprisingly easy— he guessed his workout routine was working. Eddie just snuggled against him, letting himself be carried, and Buck had to stop himself from swooning.

He allowed himself all of one moment to pretend like this was his life, that he actually got to have this. That he was carrying in his husband and son because they were so tired they fell asleep on the drive home. He allowed himself that one moment to hope, to pretend, before he shook himself out of it.

Buck made quick work of getting Christopher ready for bed, having helped put him to bed many times before and knowing the routine by heart. He gave him a soft kiss on the forehead as he brought the blankets up, tucking Christopher in the way he liked.

“G’night, Bucky,” Christopher mumbled, slurring most of it into his pillow.

“Goodnight, buddy,” Buck whispered back, feeling warmth bloom in his heart. He loved this little boy so much.

He turned off the light and closed the door almost all the way, leaving it open a crack so he could hear if Chris needed anything.

Buck rubbed his eyes as he walked back to Eddie’s bedroom, his own exhaustion crashing into him.

Eddie hadn’t moved much from where Buck had left him, just enough to kick off his shoes and wiggle out of his jeans before seemingly passing out into his pillow.

Buck chuckled. Eddie was adorable when he was this sleepy.

Buck plugged in Eddie’s phone, making sure to set the alarm so they wouldn’t oversleep in the morning and be late for the zoo. They would have one very grumpy boy on their hands if they did. Christopher had been talking about the zoo for weeks, ever since his class project on penguins. Buck wasn’t confident there would be penguins at the zoo they were going to tomorrow, but he was pretty sure he could distract Chris with the other animals.

Buck was lost in his thoughts, wondering if they had the ingredients for him to make pancakes in the morning, so he startled when Eddie suddenly reached out his hand and grasped his.

“Eds…?” Buck mumbled, confused.

“Stay,” Eddie whispered back, not opening his eyes and probably still half asleep but his voice was sincere. “Stay here.”

“I, uh,” Buck was at a loss for words and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open. Eddie gave him a look and suddenly Buck didn’t care— didn’t care that this could make things weird or awkward, didn’t care that Eddie might not have asked if he wasn’t so tired, because he was asking now and god, Buck wanted.

Buck kicked off his shoes and shucked his jeans, climbing into bed beside Eddie and feeling warm at the happy sound Eddie made. As soon as he was settled, Eddie curled into him, basically using him as a human pillow and Buck had never felt better.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, surrounded by warmth, love, and family.

#my writing #buddie #buddie ficlet #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #mentioned firefam #christopher diaz has two dads #buckley diaz family #911 ficlet #911 fanfic #911 #911 on fox #911 fox #i should be sleeping bc i work tomorrow but i wanted to write this

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a-froger-epic · 3 years

Text

Get out your glitter leotards and pour some champagne in your cat mugs! 🥂 🍾 It’s time to celebrate Freddie! 🎉😸

🎊 Freddie Mercury Weekend 2021 🎊

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

ABOUT THE EVENT

This weekend is a content creation event in honour of the man himself, the legend we all love, Freddie Mercury! Once more, everyone who is inspired by Freddie is invited to share their creativity with the fandom. You can write, draw, edit, record, even cross-stitch 😉 content for absolutely anything related to Freddie, any ship, any genre, any way you like. This is an indiscriminately inclusive, positive event. Everyone is welcome, there is no wrong way to be a fan of Freddie! (Except convincing yourself you're dating his ghost maybe. That's pretty wrong. And weird. Don't do that.)

WHEN? On the 21st, 22nd and 23rd of May.

HOW? On the above dates (or after!), post your contributions to the AO3 collection or alternatively on Tumblr, tagged ‘#fmw2021’ or/and ‘#freddie mercury weekend 2021’. If you post on Tumblr, please also tag @a-froger-epic to make sure you get a reblog from me!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

THE PROMPTS

You can be as free with the prompts as you like. They are here to inspire, there is no wrong way to write them! Change them around, mix them up, make them fem!Freddie, A/B/O, add your favourite ship. Anything goes! 😊

21st of May - 500-1000 word challenge!

We’re kicking off the event with ficlets and drabbles. First time writer just testing the waters? No need for an epic, just write a scene! No time to write but you want to participate? Surely you’ll find time for 500 words! 😉 Interpret these mini-prompts however you like (every one is a separate prompt, but you can combine them!):

Make-Up 💄 | Pain/Pleasure 👀

Strip 👕 | Ring 💍

Forbidden 🤫 | Delilah 🐈

Piano 🎹 | Dormitory 🛏

Outrageous 🎉 | Contentment 😌

Come Together 🎇 | Ballet 🩰

Piece of Art 🎨 | Leather 🧥

Cockring 🐔 | Kimono 👘

Petals 🌸 | Leotard 🕺🏻

Mustache 🧔 | Last Time 😔

22nd of May - Is This The Real Life?

A list of real event/canon timeline prompts from Freddie’s life. How real you want to keep them, however, is entirely up to you!

Down in flames

Freddie is 16 years old when he leaves boarding school. Does it have something to do with the school gardener, Sanjay? Did he flunk his exams or did he not even sit them? Is one thing connected to the other? Does he really find a boyfriend when he goes to stay with his aunt in Mumbai (then Bombay)? Either way, there’s the small matter of his parents finding out about all of it... (Sources: x x )

When Freddie met Kenny

Freddie is a guest on Kenny Everett's radio show in spring 1974. Freddie is living with Mary, Kenny is married. Two gay men, deep in the closet. To no one's surprise, they hit it off immediately. (Source: x )

But when did he?

At some point during his relationship with Mary, prior to his relationship with David, Freddie had already begun sleeping with men. But how and when did that first happen? Cottaging in London? On tour somewhere in the world? Your guess is as good as ours…

Flying High

Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll. Like all rock bands of their time, Queen doesn’t escape the copious amounts of cocaine in the entertainment industry for long. Somewhere on tour in America, perhaps, Freddie is first introduced to it. Where? How?

Hide your tears

Jim said that he tried to be strong for Freddie and only cried in private, so as not to burden Freddie with his feelings. But this time, he is found.

One-liners:

In 1969, Freddie doesn’t know how to cook an egg and neither does Roger (Source: x )

In 1977, Freddie meets Joe while on tour in Boston and starts dating him behind David's back

In 1990, Brian and Freddie work on 'The Show Must Go On' (Source: x )

In a year of your choice, Jim reminisces about his fondest moment(s) with Freddie

In 1976, Freddie and Mary end their relationship

In 1984, Winnie gives Freddie a wedding ring (middle of the post: x )

In the late 60s, Freddie agrees to model for an Ealing Art School fashion show, but panics and flees the runway (Source: x )

In 1974, Freddie is strip-searched upon arrival in Australia (Source: x )

In 1982, Freddie and Roger go shopping in Amsterdam (Source: x )

In 1978, Freddie swings from a chandelier - naked (Source: x )

23rd of May - Is It Just Fantasy?

A list of AU prompts to spark your imagination. Take them and run with them or change them up, just have fun!

Make your dreams come true

Freddie hasn't been very fortunate in his life, until he finds a very special oil lamp, and rubs it just the right way.

Beautiful stranger

Freddie meets an alluring stranger at a masquerade ball, who has more secrets than he can hide behind a mask. But Freddie has some of his own.

Thicker than water

Freddie agrees to a dreadful fate in order to save his little sister from the very same. Fortunately, he has friends who are more than willing to help him, but can they? Or are they, too, in danger?

Diamonds are a boy's best friend

Freddie is the prized jewel of the court, a skilled belly-dancer and entertainer, but he may also be plotting murder and getting away with it.

Almost Real

In a distant future, humans have all but done away with face to face interaction. Humanity largely lives online. Children grow up isolated and live with only their families well into young adulthood. Cybersex is the new normal, although some families take a puritanical approach for fear of addiction. One day, impossibly, a real life young man falls through the containment field in Freddie’s back garden.

One-liners:

This plane is going to crash (Freddie knew there was a reason he hated flying)

Shipwrecked on an island (Freddie could never bear to be alone, but luckily/unfortunately for him…)

Hunger Games AU (Freddie is so dead)

A terrible road accident (Everyone is so dead, or are they?)

Blind Date AU (Freddie's best friend is so dead for setting him up with this person… or are they…)

Bank robbery (but who are the robbers and who are the hostages?)

Magic AU ("Yer a wizard, Freddie!")

Film Noir AU (Secrets and cigarette holders)

Interior Design AU (Does the carpet match the drapes?)

The Bodyguard AU (“And I will always love yooouuuu…”)

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

RULES & FAQ

⛔ Strictly No Hate ⛔

This is the NUMBER ONE RULE of the event, to ensure that everybody feels safe. No rudeness, provocations or hate aimed at creators or other commenters will be permitted, not on AO3 nor Tumblr.

Follow these steps if you receive a comment or ask that distresses you:

Do not engage. (You can take a screenshot as proof.)

Delete it. No ifs, no buts. Just delete it. (Don’t hesitate to block anon hate on Tumblr.)

Alert me ( @a-froger-epic ) or @aboutnothingness, who is lending me a hand to make sure all needs are attended, all questions are answered and everything runs smoothly. We are here to actively support you. We’ve got your back, and we will gladly talk to you and help you feel better.

If you choose to ignore this rule, your work may be removed from the event. We would hate to resort to that.

But what if one of the works has upset me?

Can the thing that upset you be tagged, but it wasn’t? Then please inform @a-froger-epic or @aboutnothingness, and we will bring it to the creator’s attention. (Remember to use the appropriate tags, everybody!)

Was the thing that upset you already tagged? Or is it perhaps simply the characterisation you find disagreeable? Then we suggest you click on the ‘back’ button, take a deep breath and remind yourself it's just fanfic.

Who can participate?

Anyone who is inspired by Freddie Mercury in any way shape or form. This event is open to all.

Can I combine prompts from different days?

By all means! We look forward to your futuristic Freddie-gets-kicked-out-of-boarding-school Maycury Film Noir AU. With leotards. Go crazy.

I'm not sure where my creation fits in, what day do I post it?

The days, like the prompts, are only suggestions. We don't mind when you post it, as long as you post it! Even if it's two weeks late!

Help, I've never posted fic before!

Don't worry, we've got you! (And more importantly, we've got AO3 invites!) @aboutnothingness is more than happy to walk you through the process of setting up an account and is also offering her services as a beta.

I’m still too nervous to participate!

You can post anonymously to the collection. You can disable anon comments on your work. You can disable comments entirely and just collect the kudos. You can close anon asks on Tumblr temporarily. But most importantly, we are here for you and we want you here!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

“I love the fact that I make people happy, in any form. Even if it’s just half an hour of their lives, in any way that I can make them feel lucky or make them feel good, or bring a smile to a sour face, that to me is worthwhile.”

- Freddie Mercury

#Freddie Mercury Weekend 2021 #FMW2021 #freddiemercuryweekend2021 #fandom event #Queen fandom #Freddie Mercury #it's here!#REBLOG REBLOG REBLO-

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doggernaut · 3 years

Text

Zimbits, aging, and the mortifying ordeal of being known (especially by the one who loves you best)

I posted this little Zimbits ficlet the other day, which was inspired by this post by @weneedtotalkaboutfic, and it got me thinking about some of my older!Zimbits headcanons that I draw on when I'm writing future fic but have never really shared in one place. So, here are some headcanons about Bitty and Jack, specifically as they relate to how they handle getting older and the inevitable changes that accompany that. (Warning, talk of body image, diet culture, and other less desirable aspects of getting older.)

Jack, being older and in a profession that really takes a toll on his body, is the first to experience everything. At first it sneaks up on him. Is his ankle stiff because he's spent a lifetime playing hockey, or is that just something everybody experiences when they hit their thirties?

(A little of both, actually. There are definitely old hockey injuries that he just feels, all the time, but sometimes he'll sleep the wrong way and his neck will be stiff for a week. Or his knees will twinge when he has to get down on the floor and reach under the couch for a lost dog toy.)

Jack retires and puts on a little weight and at first it makes his anxiety flare. He's been on one sort of "diet" or another since he was a young teenager (first to lose weight, then to build muscle and stay in peak playing condition) and it's kind of scary to relinquish that control.

(I have this headcanon that Jack's parents tried to shield him from the worst of the criticism he received simply for existing as a child of two famous people, and didn't pressure him to be a certain way, but eventually he internalized the comments about how awkward and strange looking he was. They stuck with him. At some point when he's a young teenager he overhears a hockey coach or one of his father's friends complimenting his game and adding that if he were to lose the weight he'd be even better at hockey, and that sort of kickstarts his obsession with protein and calories and eating the "right" kind of foods. But to young Jack it's not about losing weight or looking "good," it's about being better at hockey.)

So relinquishing that control after actual decades is scary, but it's also kind of freeing. The alternative would be to spend hours a day working out or turn down Bitty's desserts, and Jack is not about that life. Have you tried Bitty's desserts?

(It helps that Bitty genuinely loves the way Jack looks at every stage of life, and doesn't hesitate to tell him. It also helps that their kids have never known him any other way and now that his body is built for snuggling toddlers instead of winning hockey games? It's actually pretty great.)

Bitty didn't think Jack could get any more handsome but once he starts going gray (silver, really)? He's so handsome Bitty can't stand it. Like, he's seen Jack's parents, he knows he has good genes, but mid-40s Jack is next level. Bitty regularly congratulates his 20-year-old self for having such good taste.

So Jack, for the most part, really leans into aging. It's Bitty who has a harder time with it. He's not insecure as much as he's just indignant that this has to happen.

With good reason though, since he's a TV personality. The camera doesn't lie. He's hyperaware of every line on his face and the slightest fluctuations in his weight.

Bitty's always looked younger than his age, so it's a rude awakening the first time he doesn't get carded while buying alcohol. Yes, he also complained when he was still getting carded at 28. It's the principle of the thing!

Bitty knows better, but he always falls for slick marketing campaigns, so he has a bathroom cabinet full of fancy anti-aging creams and expensive facial washes.

(Jack uses them too, but only because they're there and they smell good. He doesn't actually know what they're supposed to do, or how much money Bitty spends on them. Jack is just as happy to wash his face with the free bars of soap he gets in hotels.)

Bitty gets Botox once, right before filming on the new season of his show starts up, and Jack and their now-teenage kids gently chirp him about it. ("Are you mad at us, Dad? You sound mad but we can't tell because your face isn't moving.")

Every so often Bitty will dramatically declare he's going on a diet and cuts something--carbs, dairy, sugar, whatever evil he decides is the source of his woes--out completely. This never lasts more than two weeks, and Jack and the kids are always very relieved when he comes to his senses and starts baking again.

Bitty is also overly dramatic about the slightest ache or pain. He tweaks his back at a Zumba class and it's the end of the world. Jack, who thanks to hockey has lived with some baseline level of discomfort since his mid-twenties, isn't afraid to call him out. ("I'm dying, Jack!" "Take some Advil, put the heating pad on it, and make an appointment with the chiropractor in the morning.")

Okay, so maybe Bitty is a little insecure. This is Bitty of the Bitty's Better Booty Bureau, after all. He just needs a little reassurance once in a while. Which Jack is always happy to provide.

Because at the end of the day, Jack is still absolutely attracted to Bitty. He's hot, yeah, but his confidence and competence is also really sexy. Bitty's worked hard to get to the point in his career where people consider him a leader in his field. Jack accompanies him to awards shows and charity dinners and somehow it's not as bad as when he was the one in the spotlight because Bitty just shines. And even with all he has going on, he still finds time to whip up 200 cupcakes for the PTA on a moment's notice.

Those short shorts Bitty used to wear that drove Jack to distraction? Yes, he still has them. No, he doesn't wear them in public anymore. They're strictly a bedroom-only thing. Maybe he'll wear them around the house if the kids aren't home. Yes, they still drive Jack to distraction.

#omgcp #zimbits #older!zimbits #headcanons #I just really love the idea of a Jack who can finally relax a little because he’s secure and comfortable #and doesn’t have anything to prove anymore.#Does Bitty get the name of the best plastic surgeon from Alicia?#He probably does and looks at the card every once in a while but ultimately decides against it.

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jaskicr · 4 years

Note

for buffskier, for some reason jaskier has to wear geralt’s armour (this is like @spielzeugkaiser’s art) and geralt realises that his armour fits jaskier extremely well. and also jaskier can lift his (rather heavy) sword and can also fight with it

i love a good clothes swap and i had a lot of fun writing it, so this got longer than expected, oops! (also known as: let me see how many of my favourite tropes i can gleefully shove into this) and thank you to @spielzeugkaiser for letting me write a ficlet inspired by their art<3

“No, no,” Jaskier says frantically. “That village - it’s not a good idea. Let’s find another place to get a contract.”

Geralt frowns. “Why not? There’s a well-paying contract there.”

"Trust me, it’s better if we find another one,” Jaskier insists.

“There are no other villages that are within a day’s ride,” Geralt points out, annoyed. Why is Jaskier being so adamant?

Jaskier sighs, pinching his nose. “I’ve been there, okay? They weren’t very - receptive towards my songs. They loathe you.”

“That’s not news,” Geralt comments dryly.

“You don’t get it, Geralt.” Jaskier rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The Blaviken thing - they’re really, really set on that.”

“We need to stock up on supplies, and we’re basically out of coin,” Geralt grumbles. They could camp for the night, but it really wouldn’t be ideal. Besides, Geralt is used to the boundless hate thrown at him for Blaviken. This will just be another hateful town, and he can handle it. “I need to take the contract, Jaskier.”

Jaskier throws his hands up with another loud sigh. “Geralt -”

“I’m used to it.” It’s the truth, but familiar anger ignites in Jaskier’s eyes at the thought of the injustice directed towards Geralt, and it warms Geralt to see Jaskier so protective of him, even if it isn’t anything either of them can change.

“They truly hate you, Geralt, and I don’t want you to be subjected to that.” Jaskier’s voice is concerned, worried. “If only we could…” his voice trails off, and he murmurs, “oh.”

“What?” Geralt asks warily. There’s a glint in Jaskier’s eyes that Geralt has come to recognise as Jaskier having one of his ideas, ideas that usually end in disaster.

“What if...” Jaskier pauses, grinning, which does not bode well. “Gods, I’m a genius. They’ve never seen you, so they don’t know what you look like.”

“... And?”

“Well, they’re expecting the Butcher of Blaviken to be a white-haired, golden-eyed witcher with big fuck-off swords and a surly demeanour,” Jaskier rambles, eyes brightening. “But if we swap clothes, and I pretend to be a witcher and you can pretend to be a bard, then they won’t suspect anything!”

“That’s...” stupid, Geralt wants to say, but as crazy as Jaskier’s idea sounds, Geralt needs to take the contract, and as much as he hates to admit it, Jaskier’s idea is likely their best shot. Gods, is he really going to go along with one of Jaskier’s harebrained schemes?

“It’s genius, isn’t it?” Jaskier says with a proud smile on his face, looking expectantly at Geralt. “We can waltz into town, me as a witcher and you as a bard, take the contract, you can slay the monster, then I can collect the payment, pretending to have killed the monster. It’s perfect!”

Jaskier’s idea is one of his better ones, though Geralt is still dubious about pulling it off. “Our clothes won’t fit each other.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jaskier reassures him confidently. “They will.”

After some needling from Jaskier, Geralt eventually gives in reluctantly, softening slightly when Jaskier sends him a triumphant grin. He doubts that this will work - after all, his armour will likely be too big for Jaskier, and Jaskier’s frivolous, vibrant clothes will undoubtedly be too small for him, but Geralt always gives in to Jaskier in the end. It won’t work, but Geralt might as well let Jaskier indulge for a few moments.

They turn their backs to one another as they strip off their clothes to swap with each other, and Geralt can’t stop his eyes from wandering over to Jaskier. Jaskier’s doublet is strewn on the ground, and when he pulls his shirt over his head, Geralt’s mouth goes dry.

Jaskier’s back is unexpectedly broad, the strength evident in the width of his shoulders, and Geralt sucks in a breath as Jaskier bends over to take off his trousers, his firm bottom directly in Geralt’s view, and as Jaskier pushes his trousers down, Geralt gets an eyeful of thighs that are thick with muscle, built up over long hours of walking, and strong, shapely calves.

Geralt hurriedly whips his head around, his face heating up suddenly.

Well. That had certainly been unexpected.

Where had Jaskier been hiding all of that?

Geralt keeps his mind on taking his own clothes off, determinedly not thinking about the sight he’d just seen. When Jaskier’s clothes land next to him with a thump, Geralt tosses his own armour over his shoulder, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to not turn around and catch another glimpse of that expanse of tantalising skin.

Picking up Jaskier’s cream-coloured shirt and sky blue trousers, Geralt eyes them dubiously, reluctant to put them on. They’re rather too bright for his taste, and Geralt fears that he might accidentally rip Jaskier’s clothing - though after what he’d seen earlier, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Geralt gingerly pulls the sky blue trousers on, grimacing inwardly at the way the too-bright colour stands out against his pale skin. To his surprise, his legs slide in without much resistance, and he barely has to struggle for the trousers to fit, with the trousers only squeezing his calves and his ass the slightest bit.

He hadn’t expected to be able to squeeze into Jaskier’s trousers, and certainly hadn’t expected them to fit so well. They’re slightly short on him, though not by much, since he and Jaskier are nearly of height, and Jaskier’s trousers don’t fit that much tighter than his own.

Less tentative now, Geralt pulls on Jaskier’s shirt. Like the trousers, it’s a slightly tight fit, particularly around the chest and shoulders, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable, and looking down at himself, Geralt finds himself once again surprised at just how well Jaskier’s clothes fit him.

Behind him, Jaskier lets out a teasing whistle. “Well, would you look at that lovely bottom.”

Groaning, Geralt turns around. “Jaskier, why -” He chokes on his own spit when he sees Jaskier before him, decked out in black leather. “Unf.”

The armour fits well. Very well. Unlike what Geralt had expected, the armour doesn’t hang loosely off Jaskier’s body but hugs it perfectly, fitting almost as well as Jaskier's own tailored clothes. The bulk of Geralt’s armour only serves to make Jaskier seem more broad, a hulking, dangerous presence.

Geralt had thought that his armour would hang from Jaskier’s shoulders in an unflattering way, too loose to be practical, practically drowning him in fabric. Instead, the armour clings to Jaskier’s body in all the right ways, drawing Geralt’s eyes to the wide expanse of Jaskier’s shoulders and the thickness of his biceps. Geralt’s trousers are pulled taut over Jaskier’s thighs, the strength in them clearly visible through the tight fabric.

For a moment, Geralt sees another witcher looking back at him, broad-shouldered and strong, ready to take down the monsters that roam the Continent, but the illusion is shattered when Jaskier sends him a slow, lazy grin.

“Well, it seems that you’re wrong,” Jaskier purrs, prowling towards Geralt, and he makes quite a sight, looming and lethal as he approaches Geralt, and Geralt has to swallow down an involuntary gulp. Gods preserve him. “Our clothes fit each other quite well. Extremely well.”

His eyes rake down the length of Geralt’s body, something almost hungry sparking in his gaze as it lingers on the way his shirt is stretched just slightly too tight around Geralt’s chest, the way his blue trousers cling to Geralt’s legs and ass, and Geralt had to fight the urge to hide himself from a look so predatory that he feels as if he’s being sized up for a meal.

“Yeah, um, yes,” Geralt stammers, and why is he stammering? He tries again, grasping for words that elude him with every second he’s graced with the sight of Jaskier in his armour. “Hm. I - yes.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier’s eyes are sparkling, and Geralt gets the distinct impression that Jaskier is laughing at him.

“We, uh - your plan worked,” Geralt mumbles. He wants to avert his gaze, wants to duck his head in embarrassment, but his eyes refuse to leave Jaskier, desperately drinking him in. “We can, uh…”

Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s head into the village then. Better not waste any time.”

“Yes,” Geralt says faintly, watching as Jaskier heads over to where Geralt’s swords are laid out. “Uh, right. Can you, uh, lift them?”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow, bending down and reaching for the swords, and sweat beads at Geralt’s temple as the tight leather trousers pull tight around Jaskier’s ass. “Lift them? Of course I can, my dear witcher - or my dear bard, I should say - they’re not that heavy.”

He closes his hands around each sword, one steel and one silver, hefting them thoughtfully in his hands. Geralt realises with a start that Jaskier is holding his swords like he knows what to do with them, like he’s fought with swords before. Jaskier keeps surprising him today, it seems.

Jaskier slides the swords into the sheaths on his back with practised ease, then grins at Geralt. “Well, my darling bard, shall we?”

My darling bard, Jaskier purrs with a low tone that makes Geralt’s too-slow heart beat just a little too fast, and Geralt swallows at how easily Jaskier refers to him as his.

“W - what?” Gods, he really is distracted, and Jaskier smirks at him.

“We need to take the contract, Geralt,” Jaskier reminds him, amusement dancing across his face. “Come on, grab my lute, and we can go.”

“Right,” Geralt mutters, turning away to hide the way his cheeks are burning. The weather is really quite hot today. Reaching for Jaskier’s lute, he slings it over his shoulder the way he’s watched Jaskier do thousands of times, and heads towards Roach, getting ready to leave.

“You look good as a bard,” Jaskier murmurs, and Geralt startles, turning back to look at him in surprise. Jaskier winks at him, and surely Geralt’s eyes must be deceiving him, because Jaskier has that glint in his eye when he flirts with young men and women that catch his fancy - now, that glint and that wink are directed at Geralt, and gods, the weather is really hot. Maybe he should go take a dip in a stream later.

Maybe he can even ask Jaskier to join him, and watch as water drips down his body, the droplets clinging to the bare lines of his muscles, and why the fuck is Geralt even thinking this?

Shaking the tempting image from his mind, Geralt croaks out, “We should. Uh. Let’s go.”

His face still feels too hot as he clambers on Roach, resolutely not looking at Jaskier as they set out towards the town. Despite his efforts, images of Jaskier’s body bombard his mind - his wide back, his strong thighs, his shapely ass, and Geralt has to make a concentrated effort to stay on Roach.

Though it wouldn’t be a hardship if he were to fall off Roach and have Jaskier catch him in those strong, thick arms -

And Geralt needs to get a fucking grip. One look at his surprisingly muscular friend and now it’s all he can focus on.

When they finally arrive at the village, Geralt is beyond grateful for something else to distract his thoughts from how they’re spiralling into increasingly inappropriate territory. Jaskier is his travelling companion, his best friend, for gods’ sake, Geralt shouldn’t be thinking this about him.

The villagers bristle with thinly veiled hostility as they pass, glaring at Jaskier, and Geralt hunches his shoulders and ducks his head, doing his best to hide his eyes, but no one pays him any mind. Their eyes slide over Geralt’s colourful clothing and lute to rest hatefully on Jaskier, who strides on with a blank mask on his face, unbothered by their stares, looking every part a dangerous, deadly witcher.

Geralt can practically touch the hostility that thrums in the air, his enhanced hearing catching snatches of witcher and mutant and butcher, and he grudgingly admits that Jaskier was right - had they not swapped their clothes, Geralt would’ve been chased out of the village for being the Butcher of Blaviken. While the town is clearly not welcoming towards witchers, they’re likely making an exception for any witcher who isn’t Geralt.

They head into the village’s biggest tavern, and Geralt hangs back as Jaskier stalks up to the man who’d put out the contract, listening to the details of the monster - a few nekkers, nothing too dangerous - as Jaskier negotiates payment far more skilfully than Geralt could ever have done. After a few minutes, Jaskier returns to Geralt, and they leave the tavern with distrustful gazes on their backs.

“It doesn’t sound like a big nest,” Geralt murmurs, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear. “Let’s deal with it and get out of here.”

“How did you - ah, witcher hearing, yes, silly me.” Jaskier scans their surroundings warily. “If we get changed in the forest, you can take care of them and then we can change back, collect our gold, buy what we need, and leave. No one will even suspect anything.”

Geralt frowns as Jaskier steers them in the direction of the forest. “But the nest is in the forest, it might not be safe -”

“It’ll be fine,” Jaskier dismisses, waving a hand. “We’ll just make sure to be quick.”

Geralt wants to disagree, but he keeps his mouth shut as they head into the forest, trying to tell himself that it’ll be fine. After all, it’s not like the nest will be that close to the village anyway. They’ll be fine.

“We just need to be far enough from the village that no one sees,” Jaskier says cheerfully as they wander deeper into the forest. “Then you can go do your witchering -”

Then Geralt feels a rumble beneath his feet, and he barely has the time to shout out Jaskier’s name before several nekkers burst from the ground, surrounding them.

“Fuck!” Geralt curses. He’s not in armour, his sword is with Jaskier, who’s too far away for Geralt to get to in time, and Jaskier is drawing the silver sword, what the fuck is he doing -

Two nekkers leap at Jaskier, and even as Geralt raises his hand to cast Aard, he knows it’s too late to stop them from tearing into Jaskier - but then Jaskier dodges them easily, slashing Geralt’s sword through the air, decapitating one of the nekkers, and Geralt’s jaw drops at the skill and speed with which Jaskier handles his sword.

Geralt doesn’t have much time to stare in shock, however, as he detects a few nekkers trying to ambush him from behind, and he casts Aard to blast them back. He has his signs, at least, and with the nekkers pushed away from him, he quickly glances towards Jaskier just in time to see him run his sword through a nekker’s chest, then duck under a swipe from another nekker, rolling up behind it to deliver a deadly gash to it with his sword, and just like that, Jaskier has dispatched all the nekkers that had surrounded him.

Something burns in Geralt at the sight of Jaskier in his armour, wielding his swords, easily holding his own against a pack of monsters, and Geralt pushes it to the side for the moment. He has no time for distractions.

“Jaskier,” he calls, his hands ready to cast a sign as he watches the nekkers from earlier recovering from Aard, and Jaskier, as always, understands what Geralt wants before he says it, and tosses the sword to Geralt.

Geralt catches it just in time to slash his sword across a nekker’s throat, leaving one nekker snarling viciously at him. It lunges at him, and Geralt dodges its attack, swinging his sword and managing to catch it in the throat, but he’s so preoccupied with it that he doesn’t notice the shift in the air behind him until it’s too late.

Geralt braces himself for the pain of deadly claws digging into his back, but nothing comes, and he turns to see Jaskier standing behind him, Geralt’s steel sword in his hand as the head of a nekker thuds to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier says, only sounding slightly out of breath. “Well, wouldn’t you say that this contract has gone rather swimmingly?”

Geralt can’t answer, unable to formulate a response as he stares at Jaskier, standing before him with a triumphant smile, Geralt’s sword in his hand and Geralt’s clothes on his body, and well, Geralt had always been rather attracted to competence, and what Jaskier had done…

“You can. Fight?” Geralt stutters dumbly, tongue like lead in his mouth as his mind replays the last few minutes of Jaskier swinging his sword with an expertise that few can match, of how Jaskier had managed to hold his considerably heavy sword far longer than most humans can, of the way Jaskier’s thighs had tensed underneath those tight trousers when he’d crouched before lunging at the nekkers.

Jaskier shrugs, the movement drawing Geralt’s gaze to the breadth of his shoulders as he slides the steel sword back into its sheath in one smooth motion. “You sound surprised.”

“I… didn’t know,” Geralt says slowly. Since when has Jaskier been able to fight?

“I never told you, because you never asked,” Jaskier admits with a rueful smile. “It was worth the look on your face, though. You still look rather dumbstruck, my bard.”

Geralt opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I…”

Jaskier’s eyes gleam, and he stalks towards Geralt with predatory intent, mouth curling in a lazy grin. “Why, Geralt,” he purrs, stopping just in front of Geralt. He reaches out and captures Geralt’s chin in one hand, forcing his gaze up from where it had been wandering down Jaskier’s body. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Like what?” Geralt manages, held in place by the force of Jaskier’s gaze, their faces too close together for Geralt’s brain to work properly.

Jaskier laughs. “You do,” he murmurs, and for a moment, Geralt holds his breath, waiting for something -

But then Jaskier steps away, releasing his grip on Geralt’s chin, and some part of Geralt mourns the warmth. “Let’s go,” Jaskier says, casual as ever, like he hadn’t been pressed close to Geralt just a moment ago. He starts walking back to town, leaving Geralt staring after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t move for several moments, blinking at Jaskier’s retreating back, and his eyes involuntarily wander downwards, appreciating the way his own tight trousers do wonders for accentuating Jaskier’s thick thighs and firm ass. It’s only when Jaskier turns his head back to look at Geralt with a raised eyebrow that Geralt is pulled out of his trance, realising that his mouth had fallen open rather embarrassingly when he’d been ogling Jaskier’s assets.

“You coming?” Jaskier calls, and there’s something teasing in his voice, a quirk in his smile that hints at a promise of more, a whisper of later, and Geralt’s breathing stutters.

And as he stumbles after Jaskier, who’s still clad in Geralt’s armour and looking unfairly good as he struts in front of Geralt, all he can think is, gods, he’s going to kill me.

dkjfgn i made geralt very, very thirsty. this was so utterly self indulgent and i just threw in a bunch of my favourite tropes lmao

update: here’s the sequel!:)

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #buffskier #mine*

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irons-enough · 3 years

Text

June 1881 (Teenage Arthur Morgan)

A short little ficlet inspired by this amazing photo edit by @foundynnel which made me obsessed with the idea of cocky bastard teenage Arthur. Maybe I’ll expand on this one day (Red Dead YA novel, anyone?) but it was fun to write!

Rating: G Tags: Language, teeny bit of blood

Wyoming Territory - June 1881

Arthur Morgan spat blood into the dirt. His eyes were bright with adrenaline and, just beneath the surface, an unbridled fury. His split lip curled into an arrogant smile as he raised his fists again. "That all you got?"

His opponent cycled between shock and rage that Arthur had not gone down in one hit. but it was the look in his eyes--the insufferable, cocky stare of a seventeen-year-old drifter with a six-shooter and a foul attitude--that made him swing wide to slam his fist into the little son of a bitch's face. Arthur was ready; waiting, in fact. He raised his arm to bar the swing and with his other hand punched upward into the man's jaw. He heard the crack of bone at the same time the break reverberated through his fist, and the man fell as suddenly and heavily as he had fallen asleep, groaning helplessly as he cradled his broken jaw.

Arthur shook out his hand, swiped the blood from his lower lip. He smirked in satisfaction at the stunned silence of the onlookers. He made a show of dusting off his shirt and casually picking up his hat from where it lay in the road. “Gentlemen,” he said in farewell, with a polite nod to the assembled crowd.

________________________________________

"Arthur. What the fuck?"

Arthur smirked at Dutch's greeting as he arrived at their campsite, tried and failed to look innocent. "Well, hey to you, too."

"You wanna explain why the entire goddamn town is talkin' about some cocky hotshot kid layin' out the local stable hand?"

"Really? They are?" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes brightening. Dutch whacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Tell me, son, when Hosea and I say 'Don't do anything stupid', what exactly is it that you hear?" Dutch demanded.

Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "Not much, I guess."

"Oh, that's evident." Dutch's dark eyes narrowed at Arthur's defiant expression. "You listenin’' to me?"

"Sure, just not your goddamn sarcasm," Arthur spat.

"You got some attitude, you--" He bit back the curse that was just shy of forming on his lips. "Susan!" he yelled. "Deal with him. I'm not his goddamn father; not my job to deal with his bullshit."

"Oh, and so now it’s mine?!" Susan's voice fell like a hatchet even from a distance. Arthur leaned his head on his fist to hide his grin as Susan and Dutch argued over whose problem he was this time.

Hosea knocked his fist into Arthur’s shoulder, beckoning. “Come on, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed as he hauled himself to his feet, as though it was a major inconvenience. He followed Hosea over to the front of the abandoned cabin at their campsite, a decrepit old building with a half-collapsed roof. Hosea struck a match against his boot heel and lit a cigarette as he leaned against the side of the cottage.

“Can I get one?” said Arthur.

“No.”

“C’mon, Hosea...” “Shut up. Get over here.”

Arthur slumped against the wall beside Hosea. He took his pistol from its holster and toyed with it: spinning it around his fingers as he drew, looking down the sights as he pointed it at the dirt. Hosea snatched it from him deftly. “What the hell?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Arthur, you wanna live to see twenty?” said Hosea.

“Who cares?” Arthur’s head lolled so that his hat hid his eyes.

“I care. And you should care.” Hosea’s voice was even now, but still severe. “You’re still a goddamn kid, you don’t know anything yet. Suffice it to say if you’re stupid enough to get yourself killed before twenty, you’re better off dead. And that’s not you, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Arthur mumbled.

“Me and Dutch have things in the works to get us a score. And if you’re gonna be a goddamn idiot and draw attention to yourself, that’ll be the last time you’re involved in anything we do.”

“It weren’t even so bad,” Arthur complained. “How’m I supposed to know you got plans when you never tell me a goddamn thing? Why be a goddamn criminal if you can’t do what you want? Ain’t no point.”

“The point is to live through it, Arthur. Money’s no good to you if you’re dead. Now when we need to lie low, keep our noses clean, it’s because we got something big in the works, and we can’t risk the plans while we’re still layin’ tracks. You know that. You’re a hell of a lot of things son, but a complete fool ain’t one of ‘em.” Hosea dropped his cigarette and ground it out into the dirt. “Not one of us acts alone, boy. Part of runnin’ together means sacrificing your own selfish desires for the good of the group.”

“I know that,” Arthur grumbled.

“Well, it’s high time you acted like it.” Hosea flipped Arthur’s pistol out of his hand with a flourish, catching it by the barrel. He held out the grip toward Arthur. “Stay here a while,” he said. “Somethin’ tells me I need to talk down Dutch and Susan.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Hosea was already walking away. “I don’t quite care, son. Sit here and do nothing. Be still for once in your life.”

Arthur scowled and sighed, kicked up dust with his boot. For all the stealing and shooting Dutch and Hosea wanted him to do, they sure knew how to treat him like a goddamn idiot sometimes. Maybe the day would come when he could boss them around.

He looked in the direction of the setting sun, toward California where they had come from. There was always new country to explore, new people to rob, more money to be made, more sunsets to see. Every time Arthur leveled his gun at a man and made him act, or freeze, or die--it started a whole new adventure. Some were good. Some were great. Others he wished he could forget, and there were still more that had left him with scars and foul memories that endured well beyond what they should. For the past five years, Arthur Morgan had lived for sunsets like this one, and he couldn’t wait for a lifetime more.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfiction #teenage arthur morgan #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #susan grimshaw #arthur is pretty insufferable ngl

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