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Thanks for tagging me @a-noble-dragon, @queenmabcreates, @jamilas-pen, and @carolrain. For this week's #fic rec Friday, @carolrain says

I'd like to hear about a fic that features music. Maybe our characters go to a concert. Maybe someone is a youtube star or in a boy band. Or maybe someone's just singing around a campfire or an apartment. Maybe someone's learning a new instrument (or confessing that they play one). Maybe someone's suffering through an open mic. Or perhaps you have a favorite songfic? Tell me about it, please. In my headcanon, Patrick is a Bruce Springsteen fan who randomly inserts snippets from "I'm Going Down" or "I'm on Fire" or some other smoldering Boss-song into conversations. That's easy enough. But I found out just how difficult it is to write at length about music and musical performance when I had Patrick sing "Thunder Road" at an open mic in my first fic. Being an amateur (very) musician helped a bit, but it was still a struggle. But not for everyone. I was so captivated by the story and writing in The Magic Number (Is Three) by AnnieMallistic (for Frozen Over 2022), that I asked her to beta for me. (She said yes! I should have had a ring ready. You can thank her for the absence of confusing plot points and heavy-handed not-funny-the-third-time dialogue.) Her summary:

Paul fucking Shaffer. He was the reason David was home so early, nervously awaiting the arrival of the new piano player. He’d hoped this rift between Shaffer and his mother was enough to prompt the long overdue retirement of The Number, the gift of yuletide relief. But apparently Moira was taking it as an opportunity to breathe new life into the performance. New pianist, new arrangement, new choreography. Enter Patrick Brewer. or, three years of The Number.

My comment: Brava! I enjoyed your lovely, subtle writing so much. I'm eager for the reveal so I can read more of your work -- maybe I already have!

This in particular was wonderful--insightful description, perfect metaphor.

"Moira selected her wigs much like David selected his clothes; what was needed from them? What should be revealed, or concealed? Did he need stiff fabric to show strength, or a gentle, safe way to project his fragility? Shade, style, fabric. All weapons in his emotional arsenal, defence and offense in equal measure. And he supposed it was much the same for his mother. Colour, curl, tone; sophistication from eras gone by. Alterations to her silhouette, to show the many facets of herself, different from one moment to the next, as she so often was."

Steathily kind Patrick is one of my favorites:

"David could tell his own little stumble over the keys a few minutes later was intentional, but it was kind of him to show himself fallible in the face of his mother’s foibles. And it wasn’t so on the nose that Moira realised; she was too caught up in her own anxiety. But as intended, she seemed more at ease afterwards, simple as the ploy was. They laughed it off and carried on."

Are you a pianist? You described Patrick's playing perfectly. +++++

Turns out that she's not a pianist -- just an excellent, evocative writer.

Copy tagging from last week to @demora00, @chelle-68, @hippolotamus, @mostlyinthemorning, @leofdaeg-sand, @stereopticons, @stargazer56, @characterassassination-at-9am, @flowertrigger.

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The familiar locations of Schitt’s Creek are quirky, charming and rightly beloved. But sometimes it’s fun to imagine our faves elsewhere, so this week’s theme is Around the World. Whether it’s Alexis’s pre-canon (mis)adventures, a soft and fluffy (or hot and steamy) post-canon honeymoon fic, or an AU that drops our characters in another location entirely: what are your favourite fics that take place (largely or completely) somewhere other than Schitt’s Creek? Thanks for the tag, @queenmabcreates, @a-noble-dragon, and for the prompt and tag, @jamilas-pen. I love taking our guys out of SC to California beaches, Paris, a Midwestern retreat.

In this fun fic they visit Niagara Falls, which I always thought was an over-rated tourist trap -- until we visited a few years ago. After a loooong drive made longer by hundreds of orange barrels and an hour of trying to find our hotel, we finally checked into our small room. Imagine my surprise the next morning to see a stunning view of the falls from our window. We had a marvelous time wandering and gawking by foot, horse-drawn carriage, and boat. Slowly I Turn, or Niagara Falls by CartWrite (@thecartwrite) describes the exhilarating Hornblower experience perfectly: David, Patrick, and the Brewers crowded together at the railing and gazed into and up at the walls of white water roaring around them on all sides. The waterfalls churned the river into a thick white foam that obscured the surface of the water and kicked up a mist so thick, it felt like rainstorm – only coming at them from every angle. The roar was incredible; David squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Patrick as he held onto the railing. The boat felt rock-solid and yet the turbulence around them seemed too intense. They couldn’t possibly be safe. Nothing could survive here for long. How had people ever tried going over it in barrels? That was a part of the whole ‘Niagara Falls’ thing, right?

And then gradually, the boat turned and chugged its way out of the cauldron of the waterfalls, leaving them all damp …and David awed.

TGIF, y'all! @demora00, @carolrain, @chelle-68, @hippolotamus, @mostlyinthemorning, @leofdaeg-sand, @stereopticons, @stargazer56, @characterassassination-at-9am, @flowertrigger

[trickiwooao3]

Thanks to @queenmabcreates for this week's theme and tag and to @jamilas-pen and @a-noble-dragon for the tag.

This week I would love to read your favorite period pieces—any and everything that’s not set in this time which we are currently living. I am so beyond impressed by the amount of effort and energy that goes into researching all these other time periods. Then the seamless blending together of it all while staying true to the characters as well as the setting, magic. As a teenager I read dozens of very bad 19th-century lord-of-the-manor-woos-governess and Revolutionary and Civil War hero/plunky, gorgeous civilian romances. After ODing for years on this literary junk food, I now instinctively avoid historical fiction; I was probably the last person on earth to watch Downton Abbey. (Review: Soap opera disguised as serious drama. Fun watch, though.) All of that to say that I don't have many stories to choose from. The one I will recommend is an absolute gem: I Carry These Heart-Shapes Only to You by ladyflowdi and ships_to_sail set during WWII. I read all 180K lovely words and have even reread some of the first chapters. You should too. Authors' summary:

Patrick is just getting ready to leave when he spots him across the bar. The man has his head thrown back in laughter, the lines of his neck long and graceful. His smile is its own gas light, cutting through the smoke of the bar like sunshine off the Seine, a literal impossibility at this late hour. Patrick can’t hear his laugh over the music, but he doesn’t need to. He’s so busy watching, he doesn’t see the waitress drop another drink on the table until it’s too late, and she’s already moved on to serving the next table. Now that it’s here, he’s not going to turn it down. Or Two lives, seven days, one amazing city.

Tagging/retagging/reretagging @chelle-68, @dinnfameron, @characterassassination-at-9am, @carolrain, @demora00, @stargazer56, @smallumbrella369, @leofdaeg-sand, @stereopticons, @hippolotamus

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Week 6 brought to us by @chelle-68

This week, I am asking for The One. That one fic that started your SC fic reading journey. The one you stumbled upon while going down the Schitt’s Creek rabbit hole after binging the entire series and JUST COULD NOT GET ENOUGH (me). Or someone said, “You should read SC fan fiction,” and you were like “ummm, I don’t know…” but gave it a shot anyway and there was The One that kept you coming back for more. Made you go “Yes! This is what I have been missing in my life!” Thanks for the tags, @jamilas-pen, @hippolotamus, @queenmabcreates, @chelle-68, @a-noble-dragon and @smallumbrella369. Sorry if I overlooked anyone. I wandered onto AO3 via a SC FB group (that I left after it ballooned and attracted too much toxicity). I abandoned the first fic I read halfway through when it took me to places I had no interest in going. (I'm interested to see if anyone recommends it. I bet it was the first for many readers.) But the quality of the writing, so much better than many bestsellers, motivated me to keep looking. I found a couple of other long fics that were equally well written and equally not me before I found THE ONE.

I can tolerate E, but I don't seek it out. I wanted S (sweet), C (clever), N (nuanced) and F (LOL funny). Basically, I wanted Dan Levy's vision in fic form. I wanted to read something that went deeper emotionally and relationally -- examined the glue that held D and P together, analyzed them individually and collectively, as a whole. I wanted to read a story that didn't telegraph every emotion, spell out every implication, that leaves something for the reader to do. I found it in the text fic Patrick, It's David by thesummerstars. (Don't be put off by the ? length. Each chapter can be read as a standalone.) It's a master class in dialogue, subtext, and subtlety. It's what I read when I need to restore my faith in humanity, when I'm in a bad mood, when I want to remember how good writing works.

I tried to skim it to pull out a few quotes and ended up copying practically the entire thing. Below is just a sampling:

+++++

You don't need to sign off on every text, I'll just save your number. 

It's polite and professional to sign off messages - Patrick. 

Okay grandpa, would you prefer I sent you a letter via carrier pigeon? 

God no, my mailbox is far too small to contain all your thoughts - Patrick. 

-----

Hi David, just wanted to thank you again for taking me up on my offer. Looking forward to working with you - P

P? Who is this 'P'? I know many Ps, how will I possibly be able to work out which of the hundreds of Ps in my contacts this could be? Penelope Cruz, is that you? Long time no speak - last time I saw you was at that underwater bar in Hong Kong

And here I was thinking I was special - P

You are special, Penelope. I especially loved you in Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Hey David, it’s Patrick Brewer, your business partner, who is regretting his choices more and more by the second - Patrick

Oh, hi Patrick. So good to hear from you. Thanks for letting me know who you were, I was confused for a second there. -----

No you can't just go around dropping bombs like that and then fly away like nothing happened that's not what people do

I mean… Most bombs are dropped by planes, and they quite literally fly away afterwards - Patrick

_____

Oh my god

Can you die from a hangover?

I googled it and you can so it might be right for you to take this time to say goodbye to me

It was nice knowing me, I'm sure

Good morning sunshine! Sorry to tell you my eyes are still working. I just fell asleep last night while we were talking. And then I didn't respond this morning because I was on a hike and don't get any signal up there - Patrick

Do I get your share of the store if you die because of course it was nice knowing you but a whole store to myself would be nice once I got over the hangover death grief - Patrick

Don't tease me on my deathbed, you'll regret it when I come back and haunt the store

Aw I'd better take you seriously, I don't want your ghost knocking over all the corporate touches I'd implement with immediate effect. You go back to sleep, I'll handle the store today. - Patrick _____ Okay, great. Now I have to stop what I'm doing and reread the entire thing. Right now.

Probably repeat tagging, but oh, well. @demora00, @dinnfameron, @mostlyinthemorning, @ramonaflow, @carolrain, @flowertrigger, @jettestar, @rosedavid, @stargazer56, @stereopticons, @leofdaeg-sand

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Welcome to Schitt’s Creek Summer Picnic Exchange 2025

A gift exchange for members of the Schitt's Creek Fandom.

Intro:

What is the Summer Picnic Exchange?

The Summer Picnic Exchange is a Gift Exchange in which you are required to provide the prompts. The theme for the Summer Picnic Exchange is summertime activities/pastimes that you personally enjoy.

Please make sure you have an ao3 account and are a member of the Schitt’s Creek community before signing up.

🧺

FAQ:

What can I submit as a gift?

* Participants are required to submit one gift only to the exchange. Acceptable gifts include fics, fanart, and/or podfic. Any submissions posted as part of the exchange must be new, and complete.

* Participants for Schitt’s Creek Summer Picnic Exchange will be asked to provide up to 3 prompts, so their match will have a choice of prompts to choose from. Only one prompt is actually required for a fanwork gift, however, participants can choose to include all prompts if they so desire. The prompt words need not appear in the fanwork itself but must be part of the theme, and therefore tags should reflect that.

Schitt’s Creek Summer Picnic Exchange will also provide a set of prompts for those participants who are unable to provide 3 of their own.

* The minimum word count for fanfic submissions is 500 words; the maximum word count for fanfic submissions is 4000 words.

* Fanart submissions must clearly reflect, at least, one of the prompts.

How are participants in the exchange matched?

Participants will be matched by the Exchange Mod using a random generator.

How do I sign up?

* Sign-ups for the Gift exchange will commence on 30th July at 6pm GMT. Please don’t try to sign up before this date.

* To sign up, click join. If you have any difficulty signing up, please contact the mod via tumblr.

* Sign-ups close on 5th August at 6pm GMT.

Sometime during the period between the time you sign up and the time sign ups close, the moderator will contact you to collect your prompts.

Assignments.

You will receive your assignments on August 6th, via Schitt’s Creek Monthly Drabble Challenge. This will include the name of your gift recipient.

When does the collection open for submissions?

* The collection will be open from 1st of August at 6pm GMT.

* The closing date for submissions will be the 27th of August at 6pm GMT.

How do I post my gift to the collection?

Either select post to collection at the top of the page, or while your work is in edit, select assignments and add the name of the exchange, then press post.

What happens if I need to drop out?

Please be sure to inform the moderator as soon as possible, so an alternate solution can be found.

What happens if I miss the closing date for submissions?

If your gift fails to meet the submission date, then it also fails to meet the requirements of the Gift Exchange and will not be included. Please let the moderator know asap if you have to drop out at anytime.

When do reveals take place?

* Works will be posted anonymously on 29th August from 6pm GMT onwards. They will remain anonymous until the 5th of September.

Rules:

No ifs, whys, or buts, Ai generated fics and fanart are not allowed in this exchange!

Please stick to the required word count. Any submission that fails to meet the word count, will not be accepted.

Any submissions posted as a part of the exchange must be new, and complete.

This Exchange is for members of the Schitt’s Creek fandom only, which means at this time fandom crossovers will not be accepted

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@chelle-68 and @carolrain tagged me with this: Describe yourself using only the pictures you have; you cannot search or download new pictures. It was a challenge to find anonymized photos, but here they are! I couldn't find photos to adequately convey the core personality concepts of sarcasm and obsessive editing. I have an entire photo album labeled "random internet cats."

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Thanks for the tag, @stereopticons, @queenmabcreates, @a-noble-dragon. The assignment:

This week, share a fic that you found unexpected or surprising. Maybe it’s a crack fic that really worked. Maybe it’s a trope or pairing you weren’t sure about but ended up really enjoying. Maybe it was a twist you didn’t see coming. Or maybe it’s the fic that helped you realize a kink you didn’t know you had! However you interpret unexpected or surprising, let’s share them!

Genres I don't like: fantasy, sci-fi, modern fairy tales. Stories I loved from writers I trust: A Tale As Old As Time by @mostlyinthemorning/houdini74 Author's summary: When a business arrangement requires his mom to spend a year at the remote Rose Manor, Patrick volunteers to take her place. Little does he know that Rose Manor, and its mysterious resident, will change his life in ways he could never imagine. An AU inspired by Beauty and the Beast. Some of my comments (I left a bunch; I was obsessed with this): The blazer, the mozzarella sticks, Alexis' pop culture references. David's hood (where it the pitchfork?) -- each a familiar surprise. I'm not going to say you're a genius, but only because it's too cliched a term for your wizardly writing.

Thank you for giving me a reason to get up at a decent hour. For ten mornings, at least. This story is magical without magic, a fairy tale without fairies. I'm in awe of your ability to translate the contents of your imagination into such a lyrical tale of treachery, longing, and love. And just as I am sinking into the despair and loneliness of David and Patrick, the AIs arrive to make me smile. Brilliant, delightful, marvelous story!

Is it time to reread already? Thanks for the happy fairy tale ending. The entire world has been a bit too much like the original Hansel and Gretel.

Blackbird, Fly by @distractivate Author's summary:

David trails his hand against the smooth concrete surface of the silo wall on his way back down the ramp from Patrick’s office, thinking about their conversation about upstairs. It’s terrifying when you first see it, Patrick had said. David closes his eyes, putting one foot and then the other on the concrete. He imagines he is walking on the road his family took to get to the silo their last day upstairs. He tries to picture the dull light, the gray-green trees, the warm air closing around him. He tries to focus on the silence, on the tap-scrape pulse of his rubber soles on the pavement. He imagines walking as far as his legs will take him.

He didn’t even realize how badly he wanted to be free of this place until he sat down in Patrick’s office.

My comment: I don't know why I didn't comment on this when I first (or second, or third) read it. I recommend this story more than any other, always with the comment that I "don't like" apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic or futuristic or fantasy or or or -- until I read this. Images of the silo, the barren land, and their hard scrabble are seared into my mind. Like the best literature/songs/art/people, this story embraces paradoxes--gentle and hard, kind and cruel, inevitable and shocking. If this were the 15th century and I were a Medici, you could take all the time you need to craft more and more incredible tales like this. My graphic designer friend would chide me for this formatting extravaganza. So I won't show it to her. It seems as though most folks have already been tagged, but oh well. I'll add to the merriment: @demora00, @ramonaflow, @flowertrigger, @carolrain, @dinnfameron, @hippolotamus, @chelle-68, @jamilas-pen, @stargazer56,@smallumbrella369

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For this week’s Fic Rec Friday, the request was fics with disability and/or chronic illness representation. Does David have a therapy animal? Does Patrick use a mobility aid? Do the Schitt’s Creek residents use sign language, or other means of non-verbal communication? Do characters embrace their disability? Or is there a depiction of a realistic ongoing struggle? Perhaps someone suffers from chronic pain? Or regular migraines? Perhaps someone has an invisible disability?

My recommendation is Some Things I Still Can't Tell You by @demora00 The tags: Selectively Mute Patrick Brewer, Selective Mutism, sensory issues, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It's all okay, no plot just vibes

My comment: A dozen chef's kisses! I love Patrick, I love emotional drama, I love David's caretaking, I love hearing inner monologues. As an extroverted talktalktalker, I've always been fascinated and mystified by "selective" mutism. Of course not talking doesn't mean they're not communicating, as you demonstrate: "He moves his hand to David’s thigh and taps three times with his first two fingers. David hums and tips his head in answer, pencil moving in confident strokes."

I appreciate your always evocative writing even more because of my description deficit disorder: "That tight thrumming through his body, like bees under his skin." Hello to @a-noble-dragon, @chelle-68, @hippolotamus, @ramonaflow, @carolrain, @smallumbrella369, @flowertrigger, @jamilas-pen

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First Line, Redux

Thanks for the tag, @ramonaflow and @a-noble-dragon. If you want to feel better about your own first lines, see this post from a couple of years ago. I included a bunch of grabby first lines to make myself look extra inept: Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to talk French. (The Luck of the Bodkins by P.G. Wodehouse, my favorite "good for what ails you" writer.)   When Hugh was in the fifth grade, his class took a field trip to an Ethiopian slaughterhouse. (Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris.) Shortly after my mother died, my sisters and I found ourselves rummaging through a cabinet of papers marked “POISON,” and it was there, tucked between the pages of a well-worn copy of Mein Kampf, that I discovered fifteen years’ worth of her annual New Year’s resolutions. (Barrel Fever by David Sedaris) My only new first line to report is this snoozer from Ubi Caritas "Listen up." Oh, well. I can bake a mean biscuit.

[trickiwooao3]

Sparkle, Shirley, Sparkle!

When I reach an impasse in my writing, or, in this case, rewriting, I should just listen to the cicadas, wiggle a shoestring for the cat, bake something that involves whipped egg whites and caramelized sugar. Instead, I try to analyze the problem and, even worse, use the words of better writers as motivation. It’s a fool's errand, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

I often think of this “sparkle“ comment attributed to Shirley Temple’s mother. The problem with compelled sparkle is that sparkliness only sparkles when it seems effortless -- and inevitable. The best sparkly writing makes me think that no other word, image, line of dialogue would do the trick. It’s both “ahhh” and “a ha!”

In my own writing, I don't aim for sparkle. I just have to get the job done, slogging my way through pretty much everything but dialogue.

Metaphors occupy a special place in my list of incompetencies. I’ll attempt one here: metaphors are like lemons in a salad. They should provide just the right amount of complexity and interest without announcing themselves. Too many make food –and text --sour.  You’ve read those stories – jammed with ill-suiting metaphors that detract rather than enhance. At the risk of casting myself in with the literary swine, I’ll say that I found the beloved, universally praised Housekeeping by Marilyn Robinson unreadable. In my (questionable) memory, it was bloated with a dozen metaphors per page, a quarter to a third of them spot on, the rest making me SMH.

The best images settle comfortably within the writing. Mine, though, often land with a plop, like a lemon wedge atop the salad. I’m more successful with comparisons and images when writing nonfiction, particularly within my profession. My greater mastery of the craft and content of informational writing allows my brain to function more efficiently, freeing up RAM for higher-level thinking. Not so with fiction writing. I'm more Ginger Rogers than Fred Astaire -- backwards, in heels, a huge skirted dress in the way, kind of clunky -- the opposite of effortlessness.

The other issue is time. I sometimes ask in comments how long it took a writer to come up with the perfect phrase or image. The answer is never “at least two weeks, maybe a month,” as mine would be. For example, I’m pleased enough with the metaphor below, but I couldn't sustain the effort/benefit ratio involved to pull off very many of these. I dragged the idea kicking and screaming from the quicksand of my mind during the fourth or 10th or 20th rewrite. After the image occurred to me, it took me forever to wipe off most of the mud and make it presentable. Both stages –coming up with the idea and then wordsmithing it – are torturous. It likely started out as “watching a priest? –do something. At a circus? Riding a bike?” I’m still not sure “diffident” was the right word. And there’s the lemon wedge of “like.” Sigh. (And yes, I am aware of the mixed salad/mud metaphors. I ask for pity rather than judgment.) +++++

"Yes, gross. Uh, I mean no. Okay, I mean, you should be comfortable. Comfortable while not eating disgusting sandwiches or hogging the armrest." He sputtered to an end. Patrick was delighted by the contrast between David's detached, disdainful facade and his expressive gestures and diffident responses. It was like watching the Pope fly a kite. From the Sunny Day I Met You. +++++

Every now and then I can whittle and whittle my way into a pithy, if predictable, phrase without breaking the mental bank:

+++++

He felt wrong-footed and awkward, a peasant invited to the palace. Ubi Caritas

+++++

Here are some examples of how it should be done. My mantra is “don’t compare, just appreciate.”

+++++

What am I gonna do now?” David asks, in a voice that says he knows the only answer is: Quit.

Something about it squeezes a decision from Patrick’s heart.

Fifteen Hundred Miles by morehuman +++++

See how that “squeeze” inhabits the sentence? It’s unexpected but perfect.

+++++

The corners of Patrick’s mouth twitch and he holds David’s gaze for a long moment, eyes wide and so, so brown. David could drown in them. The life preserver comes as Patrick starts to laugh. “You should see your face. Of course they’re Ray’s.” There Is Definitely, Absolutely, Positively Only One Bed by @mostlyinthemorning/houdini74

*****

See how “life preserver” settles right in? Metaphors aren’t the only way to make writing sparkle. In one of my favorite fics, many of the sparkles come from dialogue, plot, and sharply observed details. +++++

Unlike most of the people David was typically drawn to, Patrick’s edge wasn’t about high fashion or shitty manners or a twisted game of use or be used. Patrick’s edge is his mouth, the sharpness of his tongue. +++++

These sentences aren’t flashy. They seem “easy,” but that’s the magic. “Use or be used.” Yeah, that’s it exactly!

+++++

“A feasibility study for what?” Patrick asks, because he just can’t let it lie, apparently.

“It’s confidential?” David says, except it's not supposed to be a question.

“Oh, okay,” Patrick says, his mouth pulled into a tight line. It doesn’t matter because the rest of his face is smiling like he’s just been given a gift. The Last Rose Video by @distractivate +++++

Here, the tags elevate the dialogue. The description of Patrick’s expression is pithy and perfect.  +++++

The moment Patrick’s soft, broken “Okay” had left his lips, a vice had clamped around David’s throat and chest. Do You Eat, Sleep, Do You Breathe Me Anymore? by @demora00 +++++

That’s the right way to integrate a metaphor. My clumsy, over-written way would be “as if a vice had clamped ... ” Maybe I would eventually land on something this elegant; more likely I’d highlight the phrase, fiddle with it, then finally throw up my hands and either delete it or let it lie there with a bit of mud stuck to it.

+++++

“I’d tell you to have a great night, but I’m not allowed to say anything,” Patrick says.

It takes David a second to pick his jaw up off the floorboard of Patrick’s car, but when he does, he manages to quip, “That’s right, and that little outburst just cost you a star, so I hope it was worth it.” Your Driver Has Arrived by @dinnfameron +++++

When I read a tag like he said, surprised, I mentally tsk tsk -- "Show, don't tell" -- remind myself not to be such a scold, and keep reading. When I read pick his jaw up off the floorboard, my inner editor takes a break. I'm in the scene, feeling the surprise, eager to see what's coming next.

Fiction writing is more than a bit of a stretch for me. I’ve always tended toward the familiar, staying safely within my areas of competence, minimizing blows to my ego. I am a choral singer, not a soloist. When asked "why?", extreme climbers refer to focus and intensity. The danger provides an escape, a distraction. A diluted, non-lethal version of this idea makes sense to me. The only explanation for why I continue to do something I’m ill-suited for is that the challenge is the reward. If I lose my grip, take a fall, so what? I won’t plummet to my death. I’ll just write another essay like this.   As usual, tagging from my notifications: @jamilas-pen, @carolrain, @a-noble-dragon, @obsessedwithdavrick, @flowertrigger, @chelle-68, @stargazer56, @queenmabcreates, @characterassassination-at-9am, @hippolotamus

[trickiwooao3]

Thanks for the nudge, @queenmabcreates and @a-noble-dragon/ The theme today is hurt/comfort, one of my favorites to read and to write, the more intense, the better. Who Needs Sleep by @demora00 is a deep dive into Patrick's mind and nerve endings as he tries to power through in his Patricky way. The tags give you the context: Sickfic, Whump!Patrick, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Angst with a Happy Ending, not a tumour, Drug Use, don't take medical advice from fic, Patrick Brewer is a duck, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Headaches & Migraine

Every short breath hurt. He couldn’t decide which was worse - the morning star trying to make its way through his eyeball or the elephant pressing on his sternum. Tagging from my notications because I'm lazy: @carolrain, @chelle-68, @stargazer56, @jamilas-pen, @characterassassination-at-9am, @hippolotamus, @ramonaflow, @flowertrigger

[trickiwooao3]

…on a Saturday. Thanks for the tag, @hippolotamus and @chelle-68. The mission: [Mumblemumble -- I seem to have missed the beginning of this post] our favorite humorous fics - the ones that make you giggle, chortle or laugh so hard out loud that people stared at you. What hilarious lines live rent-free in your head? What's the funniest name for one of Ray's many business ventures? We have a lot of funny, talented writers in our fandom - let's celebrate them! +++++ There are many wonderful standalone lines in @dinnfameron's Your Driver Has Arrived. My favorite: Patrick was sweet too, but in a substantive way, a way that was good for you. Like an apple. Patrick was like a bushel of apples. He was like a whole orchard; a little piece of him every day would keep you healthy for life.

More importantly, the entire piece is beautifully paced and restrained in a way that is too rare in fandom. See, now I’m confused,” the driver says, “because you said I couldn’t say another word. But ‘okay’ is a word, so, obviously, I can’t say that.”

“Alright,” David huffs and rolls his eyes, unsure what he did in a past life to deserve landing the one driver who’s apparently even saltier than he is.   

“Should I have used hand signals? Because I really should keep both hands on the wheel while I’m driving.”

“You could have nodded,” David points out, annoyed.

“Ah,” says the driver, and from what David can see of him in the mirror, he actually has the nerve to look amused. What kind of sarcastic, self-assured fuck? “Hey, David—it’s David, right?”

“It is.”

“David, do I have your permission to verbally acknowledge my acquiescence to your proposal?” +++++++++ “Oh, small talk,” Patrick echoes. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he waits for another car to pass before easing them out onto the road. “Okay, hm, let’s see… that’s some weather we’ve been having, huh? Very, uh, typical for this time of year.”

“Mm, yes.” David finds himself wanting to smile despite his best efforts. “Lots of average temperatures.” 

“And the way it starts out being daytime, and then shifts into night? That’s really something.” David outright laughs at that. He can’t help it; it’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard. Patrick smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s see, what else…oh, did you see the game last night?”

“Ew, no,” David admonishes, a ‘let me stop you right there’ finger in the air. “I don’t participate in sporting culture.”

“…sporting culture,” Patrick says flatly.

“That’s right. Athletics. It’s not for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, David. You look pretty athletic to me.” That last line always makes me laugh. It's the perfect Patrick-y blend of snark and flattery.

Okay, I'll stop here or I'll end up quoting the entire work.

Alas, I think it's too Saturday-y for me to tag.

[trickiwooao3]

Last Line

Thanks for the tag, @a-noble-dragon. I've finished rewriting almost half (correction: 30 percent; I just checked. Sigh.) of my WIP "Phone-Free Weekend." This morning I skipped ahead to the ending, hoping a brisk walk and 10 oz. of strong coffee would stimulate my stubborn brain into coming up with an ending line. Alas, not yet. This is Patrick not talking about hair styles (hairstyles? Can't decide). Yeah, I've been fantasizing about hair styling all day. There are so many, uh, styles I haven't tried. Who's writing? @ramonaflow, @characterassassination-at-9am, @flowertrigger, @carolrain, @demora00, @smallumbrella369, @jamilas-pen, @tyfinn,@stargazer56, @leofdaeg-sand, @ramonaflow @vamprayne, @chelle-68

[trickiwooao3]

Wednesday WIP

In an early scene in Phone-Free Weekend, Patrick's wine-infused brain leads him into the vicinity of a true confession. (The fiddly bits amidst the lines of dialogue are not quite ready for prime time.) +++++ I really like David Rose unplugged.

You didn't like David Rose plugged? Like no phone, not like, well, like —

I like you plugged, semi-plugged, replugged, misplugged.

That's just the wine talking. Most people find me supremely irritating.

Untrue. I took a poll. 87 percent of people find you — not irritating. They quite like you.

And the other 13 percent?

Secretly pine after you. Ronnie, for instance. She's crazy about you.

Eew. Ronnie could be my mother. My tragically young mother, but still.

Actually, it's more than 13 percent. Because those categories are not mutually exclusive. It's a Venn diagram thing.

Oh, a Venn diagram thing. And where are you in this Venn diagram?

I'm not that drunk. Okay, where would Ray have put extra sheets?

Hold on. I think you're exactly the right amount of drunk to answer my question."

I never find you irritating, David.

And the other thing?

What other thing?

The other 13 percent?"

I don't know what you're talking about. I just said that most people like you.

You said more than that.

Maybe you misheard. Or I misspoke. Anyway, for the record, I often describe you as non-irritating.

You often describe me? To whom? How often? Daily? Hourly?

You know what I mean.

I do not. But now you’ve made me lose the thread. Speaking of thread, I think I saw a linen closet upstairs. I just hope those sheets aren't a double-digit thread count or [shudder] microfiber.

Tagging just to tag: @demora00, @ramonaflow, @characterassassination-at-9am, @carolrain, @statueinthestone, @a-noble-dragon, @smallumbrella369, @vamprayne, @flowertrigger, @tyfinn, @queenmabcreates, @leofdaeg-sand

[trickiwooao3]

Use Your Words

I have reached the dreaded "describe the setting" section of my WIP. My draft is replete with choppy, inelegant descriptors ("The kitchen had a dropped ceiling. One wall was stone.") demanding to be turned into digestible prose. I don't wanna. Sigh. In my first work, From the Sunny Day I Met You, I had to describe the Southern California sun and sea over and over and over. (Thank you, WordHippo.) The worst bit, however, was describing artwork. I should have kept a count of how many times I rewrote this. It still needs editing -- those repetitive sentence structures taunt me -- but I just couldn't stand to spend one more minute on it. The perspective from the base of the kigelia tree created a feeling of being enveloped in the deep green of the boughs. Light spilling from above made the leaves in their seamless gradations of moss olive and occasional hints of emerald seem to glow from within. An unexpected profusion of dusty white gourd-like fruit suspended by pale ribbons interrupted the familiar greens and browns of the leaves and branches and the almost black trunk. Describing actions is even more painful, given that I can barely visualize a circle. While writing Fallout at the Fantasy, I had to watch and rewatch videos of surf simulator antics. I'm glad I didn't log how long it took to cough up these two paragraphs.

Patrick grabbed a board, held it to his chest, and launched himself down. At the bottom, he glided to the side of the slide, holding on to its edge to steady himself against the strong stream pushing toward the top. Using his right foot to hold the board in place and jumping on with his left, he leaned forward until his knees and then his feet were stable. Rising into a crouch, he held his position to get a feel for the speed and flow of the water, then drew himself upright.

He maintained his stance easily with slow, controlled arm adjustments. When he felt steady, he surfed to the midpoint of the slide and back down. At the bottom, he dropped back into a crouch, then jumped off his board and pulled it to his chest in one fluid motion. He skimmed smoothly to the top, returned the board, and exited. In my WIP, the guys are spending the weekend in a lovely Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired cabin. I saved myself the horror of describing the outdoors in detail by making it rain most of the time. After I power through descriptions of the cabin, I have the fresh hell of inserting dialogue tags and describing their movements. I tell myself it's good for my brain to be so stressed -- the equivalent of an hours-long extreme circuit training workout.

Tagging from my notifications: @carolrain, @leofdaeg-sand, @tyfinn, @stereopticons, @demora00, @characterassassination-at-9am, @ramonaflow, @mostlyinthemorning, @flowertrigger, @jamilas-pen, @a-noble-dragon, @smallumbrella369

[trickiwooao3]

Time flies! Was that really three years ago?

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 23

2018

a rose for the holidays [david/patrick, M, 6,997] by mihaly

Christmas, 2004. Patrick Brewer, a high school senior and assistant manager at a Rose Video franchise, wins a trip to New York City to attend the famous Rose Video Holiday Party.

2019

All the things you're supposed to feel...I felt them [david/patrick, G, 475] by @misnamedhellion

After Patrick and David kiss for the first time, Patrick feels all of the things he's supposed to feel.

All the Ways It Was Meant to Be [david/patrick, G, 4,819] by hollybibble

Five times Patrick kisses David first, and one time that he doesn't.

Don't Blink [stevie & david, G, 5,149, CW: MCD]. by @aokayinspace

The Schitt's Creek/Doctor Who crossover fic we didn't know we needed. It's the episode Blink but set in Schitt's Creek.

ritual [david/patrick, G, 1,984] by my_middle_name_is_awkward

“Feeling better?” David hummed, pressing back into him. “You always make me feel better, even on the rare occasion that my dad puts poison oak in my room,”

2020

So Kiss Me and Smile For Me [ted/alexis, T, 678] by princesstigerlily

A reunion, five years later

Two Doors Down [david/patrick, M, 10,638] by @alexisrosez

"It was quickly decided that there would be a time limit for each person to guess which celebrity they had after David spent fifteen minutes trying and failing to work out who he was. Patrick didn’t want to admit that it was him who had written LeBron James onto the paper as David ranted about the legitimacy of calling “sports players” (David’s words) celebrities." --------- Or a slight AU where Patrick ends up staying at the motel, rather than Ray's house, when he first comes to town. A few hours later, he finds himself invited to a games night in Room 7.

you've got this strange effect on me [alexis/twyla, G, 2,341] by @landofsonlali

alexis returns to schitt's creek from new york for christmas and twyla offers her a place to stay. they catch up in front of the fireplace.

2021

Honey, all I see is you [david/patrick, G, 3,915] by @designatedgrape

The toe of his Rick Owens sneaker lands on the first step outside the Apothecary just as the door opens and a smiling dark-haired woman carrying a Rose Apothecary tote exits. David steps back onto the sidewalk to let her pass, then hurries into the store, ready to embrace Patrick and open up his heart and soul to him. But standing behind the counter is Ray. “Hello, David!” Ray calls cheerfully. “Ray.” David isn’t sure he actually holds back his grimace, but as usual, Ray is unphased. “Um, what… what are you doing here?” Or, when David gets back from Ted's during Singles Week, he can't find Patrick anywhere.

I met a boy [david/patrick, G, poem] by elifisher96

i met a boy.not words i ever thoughtwould set my heart fluttering

merry christmas, david rose [david/patrick, G, 2,145] by @roseapothecary

“I think it looks great, David.” Patrick claps a hand on David’s shoulder, watching as he glues the final usable branch of their (very sad) Christmas tree into place. It’s filled out quite a bit, at least, after reattaching and rearranging the fallen branches. (Though, anything is better than the war-torn disaster of this morning — that was far too dark for his taste, and certainly not deserving of ornaments from his store.) “Mm, great is certainly a stretch, but I appreciate your support.” Patrick laughs. “I’ll be right back. Got a finishing touch in the car.” David assumes he’s running to grab more crap from his trunk — decor donated by the alarming number of townspeople willing to “chip in” — but, when Patrick returns, he slides a large, wrapped box at David’s feet. What if Patrick DID get that espresso machine? Part of a series of alternate 'I love you's.

no filter necessary [david/patrick, NR, 2,518] by @maxbegone

The last ten minutes of the drive consists of David attempting not to think about “love” and “Patrick” in the same sentence, but it’s nearly impossible. The harder he tries not to think about it, the more he does. No, no. It’s way too early for this. He needs a nap. — The RIP Moira Rose canon-divergence fic where David realizes much earlier that he's in love with Patrick.

oh, the things i’d share (if i weren’t so self-aware) [david/patrick, G, 3,965] by fairmanor

And now, nearly a year of missed chances had led them here, this strange limbo where a discussion about their feelings would slip dangerously fast into a litany of I-love-yous that have been building up since about a week after David met Patrick. David and Patrick still aren't together by the time Single's Week rolls around. While looking after Patrick's phone for the day, David stumbles across something that he was never expecting to see.

Shakespeare wrote [david/patrick, G, poem] by elifisher96

Shakespeare wrote:"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet"

2022

I climbed a mountain and I turned around [david/patrick, T, 2,445] by @lesbiantism

5 times Patrick hiked alone and 1 time he wasn’t alone

If Only You Knew [david/patrick, M, 1,149] by @chelle-68

After David’s Olive Branch, David and Patrick spend the evening sharing their pasts and reconciling. If David could just find the courage to share one more thing.

Tell Me What You Want [david/patrick, E, 1,861] by mindswindowsdoors

David strips for Patrick. That’s the fic.

The Details of Desire [david/patrick, T, 7,038] by @trickiwooao3

David was well practiced in turning nothing into something. This situation with Patrick sure felt like something, but he needed to be sure. He used to count things out of anxiety but this was a scientific inquiry. It was definitely not a compulsion. Patrick was spending entirely too much time thinking about, wondering about, and, if he was honest, fantasizing about his new business partner. He knew he could get caught in an endless loop of this kind of analysis and speculation. He needed an action item. *********** David and Patrick take parallel paths to figuring things out.

2023

When you least expect it [david/patrick, T, 3,503] by @smblmn

Patrick is not blind. He doesn’t have experience dating men, but he knows there have been moments between David and him. But the thing about moments is that either you hold on to them or they get lost forever; a confession on the tip of his tongue disguised as a joke about a frame because he didn’t know how to say ‘I like you’ without sounding like a nervous teenager. Because even if he’d only known David for two weeks, it already felt bigger than it had any right to; A hug, long enough to make Patrick wonder if David felt it too. Abruptly ended as he was hyping himself to make a move. And of course, the biggest moment of them all: a breath suspended in time. The two of them sitting in his car, looking at each other, stretching a silence that should feel awkward but instead felt full of possibility until Patrick remembered that that’s not what David wanted and forced a ‘goodnight David’ out of a mouth that only wanted to lean in and kiss him. Or, Patrick and David don't get together in Grad Night and Patrick thinks it's better to focus on the store until he sees the worst performance ever and realizes he's in love with the idiot singing Christmas songs in the middle of the summer.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2024 2018: 1 fic/6,997 words 2019: 4 fics/12,427 words 2020: 3 fics/13,657 words 2021: 6 fanworks (4 fics, 2 poems)/12,999 words 2022: 4 fics/12,493 words 2023: 1 fic/3,503 words Total: 19 fanworks (17 fics, 2 poems)/62,076 words

[trickiwooao3]

Notification of a new houdini74 @mostlyinthemorning fic always makes me smile.

(Sorry for the inelegant post. Can’t format on my phone.)

Finally Ready to Mess Things Up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65582053