#i wanted to post a scene from the postwar fic i just started but
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5! 16! 24!
i spent too much time thinking about these!!!!
5. with description i'm proud of
(this is from my novel, actually :3)
The nearer he gets to the bordello, the more the pit in Cliff’s stomach grows. He hasn’t been back here in years, yet still he finds his nerves starting to get the better of him. He pauses on the sidewalk, a block and a half away, the huge building lying imposingly ahead of him. Cliff shoves his hands in his coat pockets and takes a deep breath before continuing on. It’s midmorning on a Tuesday, there’s no guarantee that Orosia will be there. Though, by that line of reasoning, there’s no guarantee that she won’t be there, Cliff reasons. Gods, he thinks. This doesn’t change the fact that you have to be here for the case. Just fucking go, Knight.
The bordello is a large beaux-arts style building at the end of one of the large avenues. Its pale pink facade of ornate columns and the relief statue of the hippocampus above the huge mahogany door — also ornately carved — still bring a feeling of majesty to Cliff, even after all this time. The glass dome rises high above the main building, its panels shining in the autumn sun.
Compared to the rest of this part of town, the bordello sticks out like a well-manicured sore thumb. One side of the street is the oldest housing complex in the city, red and brown brickwork garishly stained with smoke from a bygone era. Clothing lines run between buildings in the complex, the alleyways filled with tiny local market stalls.
The other side of the street is the meatpacking district, where the butchery and fisheries lie. Meat processing factories tower over the height of the bordello and the tenements, the hulking buildings of grey cobblestones like quiet giants. Luckily, on the street-facing side, the smells of raw fish and blood aren’t too strong, but Cliff still finds himself holding his hand over his mouth as he walks.
16. from a recent piece i want to brag about
(this is from the v-e day fic that is actually just celebration sex for john and gale lol)
The whiskey makes Gale generous with his touches.
It’s not the first time John’s experienced Gale tipsy, but the other times he’s happened the war hadn’t been over yet and they hadn’t experienced being POWs together. John will take what he’s given.
Arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, they walk back to the barracks together in the wee hours of the morning. There’s hardly any celebrations still going, most guys passed out around fading bonfires.
“You and me, Buck,” John says, squeezing Gale’s shoulder through his jacket.
“Yeah, John,” Gale says. “You and me.”
They’re walking alongside some of the maintenance sheds now, semi-hidden from anyone still awake. John pulls Gale aside, swaying slightly, till they’re side to side, their backs pressed against the side of one of the sheds. He decides he’s going to do it.
John stares at Gale for half a second — taking in how fucking beautiful he still is in the dim pre-dawn light — before leaning over and messily kissing him.
“You okay, J—”
The angle is off — John is mostly kissing the corner of his mouth — and it barely lasts half a second longer than a peck, but, God, John needed it. He pulls away and his heart is loud in his chest; Gale is staring at him, lips still pink, flushed from the alcohol.
“John,” Gale says, not as a question or a reprimand, but as a fact. Shame and regret and humiliation start to build up in John’s stomach; a pit turning to churning bile rising in his throat.
Then.
“Bucky.” And Gale is cupping the side of his face and kissing him back.
John whimpers, whines, when Gale’s mouth connects with his. He gets to taste him properly this time; all whiskey and warmth. Their lips slot together and at the same time that John feels his anxieties dissipate, he wishes he was sober for this. He relaxes completely in Gale’s embrace, leaning into his touch, hands coming to grab at his waist and his greedily. John will take what he’s given.
24. that makes me go "huh... i wrote that?!"
(another novel excerpt! idk i just like this little scene i have that i agonized over months ago and hey... it turned out alright after al!)
Among darkness, a girl of about twenty-three follows the luminous stone pathway deep into the earth. As her feet touch each hexagonal piece of crystal, a radius of light bursts out about three feet around her footfalls. The slightly pink light radiates the passageway, staying lit for about thirty seconds after lighting up. The stone passageway has a rounded ceiling, about six feet high at the entrance and leading downward slowly becoming taller.
The girl holds in her hands a light orange bakery box; her hands covered in flour spots that match the grease stains on her white apron. Her light brown hair is falling out of the bun she had it in back at work but she doesn’t care. She continues along the pathway, the light from the entrance fading away into the light of the crystals as she goes.
She hums a tune as she walks.
The girl wonders how far she has to go before finding her friend. He ordered his usual, why would he be in such a hurry to forget it? If he wasn’t such a good customer, and something of a genuine friend, she wouldn’t even bother. But he seemed upset and he’s never skipped out on her before — and it doesn’t even matter if he hasn’t paid because she knows he’s good for it, he wears the suits to show it — and she wants to know if he’s alright or not.
The path has grown large enough so that as she steps, as the stones light up, the light emanating from them doesn’t reach the ceiling. She’s deep underneath the city now. As she walks, a feeling of [overwhelming divinity] starts to wash over her like a gentle breeze. She continues onward with a renewed sense of comfort.
Faintly, there starts to come the sound of talking and movement of some kind.
The passageway diverges.
#this was so fun thank u!!!!#i wanted to post a scene from the postwar fic i just started but#im not super confident in that just yet#julia writes#ask games#sig-nifier
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i tried to make this post and then i got cockblocked and tumblr crashed, so i took a minute to cool off and now i'm back to try again lmfao
what's fun for me about my current MOTA fic is that it's canon-insert (which i don't really do? never really have??)
part 2 of if that isn't love has a little time jump, because the scenes are meant to slot into canon and just provide extra context for things which happen in the show (eg. Gale telling Bucky to go to London alone), so it'll start when they reunite at staglag luft which means we're starting with a Gale and John who have not only been separated, but who hooked up in a moment of actual honesty, and then Gale pretty unceremoniously was again like "None of that, pal."
which means we now have a Gale who maybe has been thinking he'll never see John again, and is remembering that the last thing he did was tell John he didn't want him. and we have a Bucky who thought Gale was dead, but he can't envisage a world without Gale in it, but also Gale as much as said he didn't want Bucky's love in that way (as Bucky sees it). so when they reunite, Gale doesn't know what he's feeling, and Bucky doesn't know how to act and has a face full of bruises.
and it's all setting up for the things which break between them during the time at the camp, and most importantly, for a postwar exploration in part 3 which really digs into the cognitive dissonance of Gale's brand of internalised homophobia, but also the crushing pressure and control of the heteropatriarchy and heteronormativity. Gale can't kill those voices inside him, because he's been putting words in Marge's mouth to justify what he's doing. It's time for her to Speak™
anywayyyyy i want to talk about this all do much lmao have a preview for part 2. two men who Don't Know What They're Doing
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“Still seein’ clear?” He meets John’s eyes for the question, and two equal pupils look back at him, whites white and blues all blue.
“Clear as day, Buck.”
“They get you anywhere else?” Seems unlikely that krauts would hit this hard and only hit John’s face, but there’s no tell in the way John is holding himself as he sits, loose and casual, knees parted to give Gale room to stand close enough to look over his injuries. Gale pats at him a little, neck and shoulders, top of his chest, but there’s still no wincing. He moves away to drop the soiled rag on the table. When he turns around to John again, folding his arms as he leans against it, he finds that John’s smile has made a return.
“I’m fightin’ fit, Nurse Cleven. How could I not be, with personal care from the prettiest first-aider I ever saw?”
Gale ignores him. “They get your ribs? You breathin’ alright?”
“Still a windbag, I promise. My singin’ days aren’t over yet.” He’s talking through that smile, quiet and clear and rounded with warm, none of the tired he should be feeling after god-knows-what on the way here. “Let me look at you a second, huh.”
“What about your feet?” Gale presses on, asking past the burn rising in his own chest, past the strange tremble he feels wobbling his insides. “You were limpin’—Your ankle? A sprain, anything serious?”
“Never mind it, Buck; just walking too long is all—Come here, won’t you? Just let me look at you a second.”
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Writing patterns
Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! Tagged by @yletylyf - thank you! Most of these are itty bitty fics and out-takes, but here we go.
1. The headmaster of Hogwarts, as yet unaware he had entered upon his last day on earth, raised his thin hand to stroke the unsmiling face of the woman who had afforded him so much unlooked-for happiness. [Year of the Thestral, HP, Minerva McGonagall/Severus Snape. An excerpt from a quasi-romance novel written about them after their deaths, a fact the reader won't understand until the end of the fic.]
2. Sometimes all Severus had to do was turn thirty-plus years of repressed hunger upon him, and Harry would start shaking. [Snake Charmer, HP, Snape/Harry. Out-take. A line signaling the co-dependent and sexual nature of the relationship.]
3. When Harry made his way out to the reception desk, there was barely a trace of almond left on his skin. [Coda to "Soft Touch," HP, Snape/Harry. Afterthought to a pre-existing fic. If I'd thought about it, I might have punched up the opening line by combining it with the last sentence in the paragraph, making it both clearer and funnier to readers who hadn't read the main fic: "When Harry made his way out to the reception desk, he didn't look like a man who'd just let Severus Snape bite his arse." Oh well. Missed opportunity!]
4. At around four in the afternoon, with three chapters to go in the espionage novel she was reading – since popular thrillers provided not only diversion but an eye-opening refresher course on Muggle slang and cultural attitudes – Minerva glanced up from the page to find Wil leaning in the doorway, watching her. [Candles Lit Against the Dark, HP, Minerva McGonagall/Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank but heavily featuring Snape. Scene- and relationship-setting, basically.]
5. It was possible none of this would have happened if not for Hermione. [The Afterlight, HP, Snape/Harry. A simple declarative sentence appears! Mildly mysterious, but since we as fans know this is a ship fic, the mostly likely suspect for the category of "this" is a relationship Harry's friends consider a mistake.]
6. Severus persisted in accompanying Harry to public events, in part because the wizarding world still needed it shoved down their throats that he and Harry were a couple. [Social Lubricant, HP, Snape/Harry. The premise in a nutshell. The rest of the ficlet just embellishes it.]
7. "You need to choose wisely when to be a dick, Potter." [Bad Manners, HP, Snape/Harry. Teensy fic. Sets the mood. Makes it clear who's speaking.]
8. Into the lives of all upstanding citizens, an occasion must fall where we fumble the biscuit and end up owing an undeniable debt to mankind. [Jeeves and the Secret Society, crossover between HP and Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves/Wooster, Snape/Dumbledore. Establishes a different narrative voice from my usual, hints but doesn't confirm a first-person POV - although fans of Bertie Wooster will probably guess.]
9. Radiant in the wasteland of a European battlefield, the vessel of Clara's memory shrugs. [Truce, Doctor Who, Clara/Twelve-ish. Drabble. Scene-setting, suggests this isn't literally Clara but a (precious) memory.]
10. For one of her first acts as headmistress, Minerva shatters the Mirror of Erised. [Spirituous, HP, Minerva, Albus, Severus. Drabble. Establishes a postwar timeline and implies Minerva's state of mind.]
Patterns? Hm. Well, anyone who's read anything of mine, even the drabbles, can already guess I'm fiercely wedded to compound sentences and fond of opening with dependent clauses. I also default to narrative prose over dialogue. And most of these first lines have some degree of hook to them, whether I planned it or not. Otherwise, um ... I think you need more to go on if you want to analyze the more interesting kinds of authorial habits and themes.
Does anyone else want to play? Tagging @danpuff-ao3, @ripeteeth, @saintsenara, @squibstress - and anyone else, because I have to be good now and go back to work!
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June 21 - Slytherin
@hinnymicrofic
A/N: I’ve had this scene in mind for a longer 8th year and post-Hogwarts fic (and ultimately postwar Hinny series) I have been working on. Context here is that Harry is (somewhat against his choice) currently back at Hogwarts for 8th year, and he and Ginny have unresolved stuff going on.
Content warnings: language/f-bombs directed at Harry for, once again, not thinking something through
“Slytherin”
The portrait hole barely opened and he could already feel the tension in the room. He should have expected the reaction, really.
With Auror classes and his own training and studying, he just sort of forgot that he hadn’t actually told anyone else after the conversation with McGonagall, Hooch, Cho and Daphne. It was only yesterday after all.
Plus, he’d been giving her space like she wanted, or so he rationalized. But he knew he should have bucked up the courage and told her directly after McGonagall gave the okay. In hindsight, before would have been better.
But he didn’t. And that was a mistake.
Upon entering the Common Room, he looked around and found Hermione looking at him exasperatedly. Ron was standing awkwardly next to her by the fire, giving him his best you fucked up now look. Peakes and Coote were huddled near with Demelza and Sophie, all avoiding his eye, the cowards.
Then his eyes caught hers and he knew he was in deep trouble.
Definitely should have run it by her before.
Her face hardened immediately, eyes flashing. She took the last few steps down the stairway in one jump and crossed the room quickly.
Hands on her hips that even with her short stature oddly reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, she let him have it.
“WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?!”
He blinked at her lamely. “I…”
“SLYTHERIN?! YOU’RE FLYING FOR SLYTHERIN?!”
“They don’t have anyone…”, he retorted, but it had little effect.
“I DON’T CARE IF THEY HAD TO SIGN UP THE DAMN BLOODY BARON UP HIMSELF!”
It was plain for anyone to see the anger, the real hurt was much more hidden. He took a step forward and reached out, but her wary eyes and half step back made him pause. He lowered his voice.
“I know what this means to you, Gin.”
“DON’T-“
But, he pressed on quickly. “And I want that for you - I do. But they don’t have anyone. They could barely field a team this year, considering everything. And with Astoria now out, Hooch was going to make them forfeit…”
It was true, Slytherin house barely had over thirty students this year, and eight of them were first years. Malfoy disappeared, and so many others connected to Death Eaters. It was a minor miracle that Slytherin house could even field a team.
In truth, despite those disadvantages, Slytherin had done all right. Gryffindor had won all their matches, of course. Ginny had been nothing short of spectacular, in addition to a fantastic captain. Watching her fly was a thing of beauty, not that that was necessarily new information to him.
But, Ravenclaw had flown well too, and if Ravenclaw won the match by 200 points or more, they would win the Cup, and a Slytherin forfeit only nets them 170. If he caught the snitch early, then Gryffindor wins it all. But if Ravenclaw pulls further ahead or he doesn’t catch it….well.
He knew how much Ginny wanted to win the Cup, what with the professional quidditch tryouts looming and scouts at every match.
“It’s not right,” he continued after a moment. “They don’t deserve that…”.
He had tried to find ways to reach out to Slytherins since the start of the year - to somehow show that he didn’t think all of them were Death Eaters. But they were just as untrusting of him, if not more so, than others were of them. It was all part of the awful recovery from a war kids had no business being a part of.
They stood there, only feet apart, eyes set on each other. He knew why she was truly upset with him, and he knew she understood why he had to do it.
A familiar flicker of annoyance flashed behind her eyes, and her face mercifully softened. She started towards him, but then hesitated again. It hurt. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to pull her in and hold her and never let go. But he hadn’t earned that right back, not yet.
Whatever it was passed, and she sidestepped him toward the portrait hole. Pausing at the entrance, she peered back but avoided his gaze. “Just let me know when pre-match practice is so I can heckle the prat seeker in green.”
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hello flo <3 I hope you're having a good weekend!
I was curious if you'd like to answer 1, 9, 12, 15, and 22 from the fic writer asks? :)
Sage hiii 🩵 thank you lovely, wishing you the same! Hope December is treating you well.
1. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?
Smut, most probably. I hadn’t delved too much into writing anything explicit before and I've grown to respect smut writers even more haha - that shit is hard.
9. What fic meant the most to you to write?
we all bleed red would be it, my baby :') It's a story that started off as just a fun fantasy, slowburn AU and that grew into so much more. It's been a very cathartic writing experience & I'm really grateful I get to share it with fellow Levi fans.
12. What fic was the most difficult to write? Did you finish it?
My Postwar!Levi fic, still a WIP for now 😩 It's another long-fic project. There's so much I want to say and it's taking time to find the right words.
15. Rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023
In terms of fics I wrote exclusively in 2023, it's got to be this one-shot that I wrote post AOT's ending, I was feelings sjjdh.
22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene
I love anything that explores characters' emotions. One scene in WABR sticks out in particular for that reason - I altered it slightly to not make it too spoilery.
You don’t quite know what to do with yourself. No one has ever touched you quite like this; no one has taught you what intimacy should look like.
Is this too much? you think. Am I meant to enjoy this? Is Levi uncomfortable?
A myriad of questions loudly proclaim your attention, but there is nothing to answer them with. Instead, you try to bask simply in the fact that he is there next to you, touching you like someone who cares for another would.
“Is this alright?” Levi’s hand hums against your head as he speaks.
“Yes,” you whisper. It’s everything.
- 2023 writing asks
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2, 3, 9, 14 and 16 for the deep fic writer asks
ooooh thank u for the asks :”))
2. What’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?
hm. i- don’t think there’s one that i’ve posted that fits this. but there’s one in my drafts that’s like,,,sirius being jerked around by both james and lily in a j/s-l/s scenario which is like max whump. uh, that one was…hard, both because of how i’m hurting sirius and because there’s some irl stuff i projected in there lol. there’s another amnesiac!sirius fic where it’s just…really sad ykno? the research, the writing, and the immersion—all of it.
3. What fic are you emotionally attached to?
i answered this one here! adding on to it to say that i’m a big fan of my harry’s postwar tattoos fic too. it spiralled way out of my control but i like how it came out in the end 🙈
9. What’s your writing process like?
ooo 2 answers for this. i have a bunch of prompts in my notes app (which is where i do all my writing)—usually random stuff see in a fic that i like/dislike, or if i get annoyed by something and wanna change it. sometimes it’s a bit of dialogue, sometimes a specific scene. with all my oneshots, it’s usually pretty linear. i start at the beginning and end when it ends. i do not spend more than a second thinking of what comes next, the page & i are finding out at the same time. even the 2/3 chapters ones which started off as oneshots and end up spiralling.
for a longfic tho, i’m currently working on one and it’s such a chaotic process i have no clue what i’m doing lol. i started off with a point of divergence from canon (why/what/how), wrote a list of scenes i wanted in it, managed to do a rough, if incomplete, chapter outline. there’s a doc with timeline and dates & some character motivations. i made a discord channel for it where i keep punting random ideas & scenes & bits and pieces. it’s genuinely become a beast i don’t know how to handle atp. like the original premise was super simple & straightforward and now there’s like…plot and stuff. the outline is like hydra—i tick off one scene, and three more crop up. i’ve had to migrate all my writing to gdocs so i could put it all in an outline that somewhat makes sense. now, i do all of it entirely non-chronologically, just adding bits wherever i feel like it. sometimes i leave a sentence hanging mid-word. it’s completely lawless.
i’m considering doing another draft of it where i just…write. like chronologically, without any thoughts or outline, whatever comes out. i fear i might have stabbed myself in the foot with too much organisation/thinking 💀 maybe that’ll help?
14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?
boy do i ever. almost always negatively, especially since i started interacting in fandom thru discord/tumblr, sometimes to the point where i either have to dnf the other fic or stop my own writing for a while because—the imposter syndrome gets too much. but also, a lot of my comparison happens with authors who write very differently than i do (like, flowery prose) so even if i want to embody that style, the gap makes it easier for me to shake it off too, if that makes sense? like when u see ur crush with someone else and u can’t even feel bad bc they’re so out of ur league ykno?
16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to?
aaaaalll the time, without fail, often multiple times. i almost always write with the assumption that i’ll be the only one reading it. it helps insulate against lack of interaction and also makes sure the fic is extremely self indulgent lol. a lot of my prompts are really just fix-its from canon or other fics i’ve read where i didn’t like something. hm, there’s isn’t a particular *time* i won’t go back ro bc i’m weirdly impressed with my older works too, but one specific snape/lily fic i wrote in 2017 is something i can never read, no matter how much i try. it was a ‘write your notp’ challenge attempt and i don’t think i’ve gone over it it once in it’s entirely after i posted it lol
From this ask game!
#there’s another mc i haven’t touched in a while where i had like. character spreadsheets and stuff#so clearly i’m not a plotter and need to go back to my pantser roots if i wanna be efficient#or maybe i should just write as i publish & not do. this. bc it’ll be a neverending orocess then#also re: the rereading bit. it’s often my fav part of writing lol#bc i’ve always written for myself—every time i get interactions/comments/feedback from others it’s a pleasant surprise#bc i never expect it. so it feels even more special#ask game#pen’s asks
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