#(ficlet. snippet. story prompt really)

[blackat-t7t]

Has anyone written a Stranger Things fic where, pre-S4 and all that with Vecna, Eddie runs a campaign with a demogorgon and is shocked and confused when the kids show a trauma response to it?

Like, where he suddenly springs it on them, they were expecting run-of-the-mill monsters and suddenly there's a demogorgon figure in the middle of the table, looking larger than life.

The kids all jerk back from the table, some shout, some go quiet. Will, if it's an AU where the Byers stay in Hawkins, goes white as a sheet, and it almost looks like he's about to have one of those "episodes" Eddie's heard about.

Mike rushes to Will and tries to comfort him, Steve too if it's a babysitter Steve fic where he picks them up after Hellfire (and sometimes sits in, because this geek stuff is kind of interesting, actually, and Munson tells a good story). Eddie and the rest of the older Hellfire gang are caught off guard. What the hell, they mutter, more to themselves than to the upset kids. What just happened? Someone tries to make a joke, laughs nervously.

Mike, suddenly prickly and defensive, yells that it's not funny. Dustin, his round face unusually somber, tells Eddie that The Party doesn't do campaigns with demogorgons. They just don't.

(And Eddie notices how he's distancing himself and the other freshmen from the rest of Hellfire, talking about them as a group that doesn't include Eddie.)

Eddie takes the figure off the table.

Steve offers to drive Will home, but he wants to stay and play

(wants to have a fun night with his friends, instead of letting bad memories derail it and put him on a road to a dark place).

The other boys gently draw Will back to the table, and Eddie puts down another figure in the demogorgon's place. He has to readjust the stats some, readjust his story, and it takes a while for him to get back into his flow. By the end of it, everyone has called down. It looks like the kids even had fun, Dustin and Lucas arguing about strategies as they walk outside.

Eddie sees Will trailing behind the rest as they make their way to Steve's car. He sees Steve notice, stop, wait for Will and give the kid's shoulder a squeeze when he catches up. Sees Mike grab Will's hand and pull him towards the car. Sees Steve look over his shoulder and catch his eye.

And he wonders.

Just what the hell happened to make the kids, and even King Steve, react that way?

...

Has anyone written a fic like that? 😅

[awyeahitssam]

My Writing Masterlist

Since I post on here far more consistently then on ao3 for reasons, I figured I would compile a list of my writing for those who don't like sifting through fandoms they could care less about to get to the good stuff. 

Separated by fandom, and somewhat by trope. 

Harry Potter:

Harry eats a God. 

Harry just can't seem to stay dead. TW: Suicide, character death, frequent character death, torture, murder, disjointed snippets, discontinued + Harry dissociates. Connected, same warnings may apply. 

First Encounters: Time loop, Voldemort-as-Quirrell visits the Dursleys and is less than pleased. 

First Encounters: The first time Harry meets Voldemort, the man he's been trained to kill all his life, he's nineteen, and Voldemort recognizes him. 

Prisoner Harry tells Voldemort about the Dursleys like it's a bedtime story. 

Except for the incident, Harry really doesn't tend to talk a lot when he has a concussion. Stream of thought narrative, character injury.

Literally just Empath!Harry spoilers. Harry, at his trial, allowing himself be petty to an extent. 

Harry gets drunk, pulled into Voldemort's mind, and decides he wants to share his good mood.

Tea shop AU.  + more  Tea Shop (weather) AU. + something actually Tea-based under the cut

Four of a Kind AU: Learning to kiss split-scene. Harry/Harry, referenced Harry/Horcrux + They meet. They kiss. What if. Voldemort/Harry + In the aftermath Voldemort/Harry

Kid Fic: Harry ‘dies’ as a child. Mentor!Voldemort, absolutely not a pairing ficlet. 

Kid Fic: Harry and Voldemort’s kid lands in the past during a duel at the Ministry. Pre-Harrymort, Micah, not quite the kiss you'd expect.

Female Harry, world-jumping, rationally angry. Tom/Harry intended, if Harry will chill out on the murder. 

Harry likes to feel pretty. Horcrux/Harry, Harry wears makeup, etc. 

Tom and Harry jump through time to each other. Tomarry, growing up, fluff, brief kissing, Harry’s older

Dragon AU, I have a lot more of this one written, I should dump that some day. Harry/Horcruxes

Harry/Tom: pillow forts, soft angst, unresolved, broken promises

Harry's really fucking sick and tired of being told what the fuck to do. 

Tom-after-Voldemort is the first person Harry has ever spoken to. Isolation, lighthearted, odd, old and forgotten. 

Harry never imagines the effect getting a boyfriend would have on Riddle. Jealous Tom. 

Harry messes with Diary!Tom

Harry and Voldemort have to complete a task based on the colour of the others' robes, for some reason?

Harry is kidnapped and wakes up in an incredibly comfortable bed. Voldemorts knows Harry is his horcrux.

Harry ruthlessly defends Hogwarts against encroaching Death Eaters. Sixth Year.

It's one paragraph guys.

Prompt-based: Tom possesses Harry when he's afraid. Hermione POV.

Prompt-based: Santa forgot about Harry, again.

Prompt-based: Tom watches Harry draw dirty, dirty things at church.

Teen Wolf, all at least peripherally intended as Stiles/Peter

Kid Fic + Genderbend + Time Travel: Stiles is in the past and nobody is raising Malia, so she sure as shit will.

Stiles has known about werewolves since he was nine, and now that he's off the college it seems his dad has gottten involved. No Hale Fire, Protective Stiles

The first thing Kate does when she comes back to Beacon Hills is kidnap Peter. Human!Alpha Stiles, eventual Steter, pre-slash

Stiles has the curse of obedience. Stiles/Peter

Flower shop AU! Ft. Petty Peter and insulting bouquets.

Peter says he hates Stiles. Stiles begs to differ. 

Werewolf Stiles wakes up in the middle of Beacon Hills woods naked, and tries to keep it low key from there. Bakery AU, kinda. Peter/Stiles

First Encounters: The Hale pack summons Stiles to the past. 

First Encounters: The first time Stiles meets Peter he is drunk. Stiles is a rude, very straight-forward drunk who steps all over issues like dead family and psychosis. It’s like he had a minefield map and is intentionally stepping on every trigger. 

Stiles meets Peter in the hospital.

Stiles pulls back because he doesn't want Peter to mess up his dress shirt, not because he doesn't want the bite. 

Stiles crochets magic shit. Fluff. 

Negotiations go well. 

Peter being the literal worst, holy hell, this hurts to read. Have some angst. Past-Stiles/Peter

Okay, my bad for that last one. Have some comfort. Crying, comfort, Stiles & Peter

Dragon Stiles is constantly underestimated. 

Stiles beats Peter, sore loser extraordinaire. 

Me acting like Stiles has shame for some reason.

Female Stiles gets forcibly genderbent and is not putting up with anybody's shit. Body dysmorphia, shitty friends, anger issues, sexism. Peter/Stiles

Female Stiles and Peter. Shower, soft.

Stiles writes smutty fanfic, as he should. 

Stiles being a bad influence on his little self, ft Knowing Himself Too Fucking Well. Time travel AU, torture

Peter walks away. 

Peter/Stiles, marking, one of the sexiest things I've ever written imo 

Peter is dumb, stupid, silly villain. 

Peter’s timing is about as good as Stiles’ filter. Dumb, stupid villain antics. 

Stiles threatens Peter, /lh

Stiles is justifiably sad after a movie. 

Tony Stark-centric:

Gen: Tony takes after Maria. Few people recognize a predator wrapped up in such Tony packaging. 

Gen: Tony bantering with, and teasing, Peter. 

Tony Stark uses the infinity stones. 

Tony survives the stones. 

Tony proposes. In public. In a way that undeniably affirms his feelings. Loki/Tony

Loki meets Morgan for the first time. Loki/Tony, kid fic

Hair Kink—I mean braiding! Aha, ha, ha… Loki/Tony

Female Toni doesn't take well to her children being threatened. 

Soulmates? Tony/Loki

Rhodey gives Loki the shovel talk ft. Parks & Rec

Tony saves the day…?

Bleach / Time travel: Ichigo isn't supposed to be here. 

The 100: Cage Wallace stages a coup before the forty-eight arrive. (Or: Dante Wallace dies before his time.) This changes everything.

Tagged: 10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Shorts

[argisthebulwark]

F, I, O, and S for the fanfic asks!! <33

<3<3<3<3<3

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Why?” She finally broke the silence, head turning until she looked straight up at him. Her dark eyes glimmered in the low light and chin rested so nicely on his chest. “Why what?” He felt her muscles tighten but she didn’t bolt.  “Why would you do all this for me?” Her voice cracked and he knew it was time. Brynjolf watched her eyes widen when he cupped her cheek in his hand, both of their hearts racing.  “Oh, lass.” He brushed aside a stray lock of hair, intent on meeting her gaze. She looked terrified. “You know, right?” She didn’t say a word but it was there, clear as day. Her fingers tightened in his shirt and she nodded. Everything they’d been through had led them to this moment. “Are you ready to hear it?” “I think so.” 

idk man i never posted this chapter of the brynjolf longfic i was working on... I should get back to that lol. I like to dump my own issues onto my characters and being unable to accept love/affection is a big one so it just hit me right in the feels rereading it. Using my favorite character/oc like an emotional chew toy.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Everything I write feels like a guilty pleasure lmao. My google drive holds sooo many fics that will never see the light of day since I never post any non Skyrim works. I've been working on a self indulgent Simon Riley fic for over a year now that makes me giggle and kick my feet when I reread or edit it lol.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

It depends on the format. For my little ficlets I have a long list of prompts I'd like to fill, pick one that sounds fun, and choose characters from there I think would fit the prompt. When I'm writing a longer fic I often get inspiration from imagining cool scenes and building a fic around that, which would lean more toward characters.

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

I'm such a sucker for enemies to lovers. It's written somewhere deep in my soul, I will happily read it a thousand more times. I love a hurt/comfort fic where the comfort comes waaaay later, when they let the angst really set in. A few years back I got really into forbidden romance stories for a while but I haven't gone for that lately.

thank you thank you for the ask <3 ask game here

[skibasyndrome]

Finally making a pinned post, hope I do this right

my name is Simon, you can call me that or skibasyndrome or any variation of either that you can think of

25-y/o university student with a passion for literature and languages and everything surrounding that (hmu, I will talk about it for hours)

me and tumblr go way back (like... 2012 way back), but it's only through my very recent discovery of Young Royals (August 2023) that I decided to get back into online fan spaces after a long break (best decision ever btw)

I'm gay and a trans man

I mostly just write fics (or talk about writing)

Feel free to reach out and talk to me about anything and everything, I love talking to people :)

things to note about this blog

I will simp about Omar Rudberg. Sorry, I'm just too gay for whatever it is he is doing 24/7

there's almost always a party in my tags because that's where I go to voice my opinions or just be... emotionally affected by things

hope you like Young Royals, because there's rarely anything else on here these days

personal posts are tagged "simon.out."

should go without saying but fuck right off with any -isms or -phobias

See my Young Royals fics below the cut (or at skibasyndrome on ao3)

It seems a place for us to dream (T, 1.8 k)

Or: The things going through Wilhelm's head during that S3 snippet.

You crave the Applause / Yet hate the Attention (E, chaptered, 4/4, 22.3 k)

Or: How Wilhelm realizes that maybe, if you squint a little, he might have a praise kink.

But I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end (E, 4.1 k)

Or: Simon's vampire-esque makeup is really doing things to Wilhelm that he didn't expect. A Halloween fic.

In This Together (T, 3.5 k)

Or: Wilhelm tries — and fails — to surprise Simon with hot chocolate. Simon doesn't mind. Contribution to Wilmon Secret Santa 2023.

It's in the water, baby (E, 4.9 k)

Or: A sweet and spicy story sponsored by the infamous Lake Still (TM) s3 promo pic.

Never Letting You Go (E, 5.7 k)

Or: The infamous Hallway Smut (TM) Scene as briefly seen in the S3 trailer and (re)imagined by me. There's light angst, sex, and so many feelings.

Lavender Haze (E, 13.3 k)

Or: Wilhelm spots the most gorgeous man in a nightclub. He's wearing a lavender shirt that makes Wilhelm's head spin and imagination run wild. And a smile that does things to his heart he's not quite sure what to make of yet.

All this shit is new to me (E, chaptered, 3/?, 24 k)

Or: After meeting and hooking up with Simon at a club, Wille needs to figure out what exactly that means for them (or whether there even is a "them" to figure out). A sequel to Lavender Haze.

Wille's Month 2024:

Day 1 (Sandwich): Vegan butter, two slices of Gouda, a few slices of cucumber (G, 1.6 k) Day 8 (Wedding/Engagement): Roots of Love (T, 1.2 k) Day 9 (Riding): Close, Closer (E, 1.3 k) Day 25 (Hands): Got my Hands all over You (E, 7.1 k)

Simon's Month 2024:

Day 2 (Food): I could eat that boy for lunch (M, 7.9 k) (co-written with @iwouldnevergetintofanfic & @pagegirlintraining) Day 14 (Senses): Kyss mig med dinä röda läppar (or, affectionately: the cherry fic) (T, 3.4 k)

Flash The Camera, You're A Star! (T, 10.1 k) (co-written with @pagegirlintraining)

Or: the one where Wille is an even bigger simp than usual and Simon can’t quite stay mad at him.

(ca.)-5-sentence-ficlets

Or: people send me a sentence, I write 5 or more sentences to turn it into a ficlet. wild variety of stories ranging from dark to fluffy to (slightly) steamy (always open for these types of prompts)

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

My 2023 Fic List

I posted 78,856 words this year! It might not seem much, but it's a record for me. So here's the list of my 2023 works sorted by date.

Four Ficlets

Written for the SWG server's instadrabbling challenge - Elwing and Idril's First Meeting (124 words, G), Elwing and the Silmaril (76 words, T), Gil-galad and Cirdan Clean Up After the Kinslaying (228 words, T), Ancalagon's Death (106 words, G)

Gifts and Favors and a Trip (3560 words, M, Maedhros/Fingon)

My 2023 entry for My Slashy Valentine. A bit of angst, a bit of sexual tension, lots of fluff and a great deal of pining. Idiots to lovers.

Angsty Ficlet (792 words, G, Maedhros & Maglor)

Maedhros wakes up in the middle of the night, panicking for reasons unknown to himself. Maglor helps. An angsty ficlet with a little twist in the end.

Alone in the Unknown (4752 words, T, Maedhros & Maglor)

The latest part of my canon divergence AU. Maglor and Maedhros wander all alone - Maedhros nearly catatonic and Maglor trying in vain to reach him. The angstiest thing I've ever written.

Helcaraxë Cannibalism Ficlet (500 words, T, warning for cannibalism and character death)

Fingon doesn't want his body to be consumed after his death.

Maiar Hate This Simple Trick (2234 words, T, background Celebrimbor/Narvi and Galadriel/Celeborn)

My entry for Tolkien Remix 2023 is based on @elentarial's Desperation and Defeat. A series of letters between the main figures of the Second Age, trying to solve the mystery of Annatar running away from Eregion. Humor.

Proxy (5912 words, E, Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros/Maglor, warning for dubious consent and unhealthy relationships)

Maedhros's love for Maglor is unrequited, but luckily for Maedhros, Fingon is hopelessly in love with him and somewhat resembles Maglor. A terrible love triangle between three terrible people. A deviation from my usual themes and characterization (and ratings), but the prompt in the kinkmeme spoke to me. I wrote almost 6k in a couple of days, which is a rarity for me.

Orodreth's Letter to Fingon (307 words, G)

Orodreth does everything he can to eviscerate Fingon in his letter of refusal concerning the Union of Maedhros.

Maedhros and Fingon Talk Cannibalism (247 words, T, warning for cannibalism and self-cannibalism mentions)

Another cannibalism snippet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maedhros and Fingon share their experiences with the subject in a light-hearted tone a little inappropriate for the discussion.

Lady Makalaurë Fëanáriel Dying of Poison, Late Second Age, Artist Unknown (8671 words, T, past fem!Maglor/Maglor's wife, warning for death and suicide mentions)

One of my two fics for TRSB 2023. Based on @independence1776's edit. In her space wanderings, fem!Maglor comes across a planet and finds out things that force her to return to Eldarin civilization. I always wanted to write a sci-fi AU, and I'm really glad I got to do it.

Now a Quill, Now a Sword (11817 words, T, Maedhros/Fingon, warning for character death and implied suicide)

My second TRSB fic, written in collaboration with @melestasflight. See their beautiful art here. It's a canon-compliant fic (with a bit of post-canon at the end) that tells the story of Maedhros and Fingon's relationship from the beginning to the end.

Two Ficlets

In this one (735 words, T), Fingolfin and Fingon discuss if Maedhros can be trusted. In it's companion (1082 words, T), Fingon and Maedhros talk about the same subject.

The Hunters (2016 words, E, fem!Maedhros/Aredhel)

Another kinkmeme fill. Baby's first PWP. (Proxy doesn't count. It has a plot and I tried to make the sex horrible.) Aredhel and Maedhros - two princesses of the House of Finwë - are cousins with benefits. I really enjoyed writing it, but I don't know if it's any good because I haven't reread it since posting.

Kaleidoscope (1436 words, M, Fingon/Sons of Feanor - all of them but not at the same time except Amrod and Amras)

Inspired by @melestasflight and @polutrope's The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant but darker in tone. Fingon sleeps with all of the sons of Fëanor. Why? Who knows? Up to interpretation. The fic doesn't make much sense, but I still like it and I'm really glad I wrote it. The third kinkememe fill.

That's all for last year. In general, I'm more happy than not with my writing. Hopefully, it will continue this year.

Thanks to every single person who's read, liked, reblogged, left kudos and comments on my fics. You make me want to keep writing.

[rriavian]

ooooo this ask game has a lot of good ones. How about:

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

My aim is to finish a few smaller projects in the first six months of this year. I’ve got some prompts in my inbox that I’m finishing fics for (all smaller stories) and I'd like to keep to a goal of regularly filling prompts this year.

I’ve also got another Corintheus ficlet I want to finish, and Cursed is a shorter piece. So a rough goal is the get those two out for February and then do the rest in whatever time they need :)

 👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

I think my bad habits are the other sides of my good habits, if that makes sense? The billions of ideas I’m always having can mean that unless I catch that wave when it happens, it feels like I’ve not done anything with that thought and just stalled instead. My own brain can quickly swamp me, and that can make me then struggle to finish. So I’m trying to pace myself better and be less stressed about ‘right now immediately’.

I also tend to write a little chaotically. Prose out of order, leaving rough sentences/ideas as place holders, but this doesn’t always work for longer projects. It can leave some tricky bits to clean up at the end. I can dip back in and be like aha! I know exactly what this needs, but it can also trip me up and stall me.

I’ve got a relatively flexible style, I’ve taken some different approaches in different fandoms and/or fics. Though Baiting the Trap and its specific tone/style was very much something I’d already practised in another series. Just not as explicit and not quite as poetic (the Corinthian’s POV naturally seems to be very lyrical, though not in the same way as Dream's). 

To keep flexibility I like to shake things up and do something completely new to keep myself from losing an edge and getting lazy. Not that I think I am a lazy writer, but I have ways to make sure I’m taking the same care and thought every time. Prompts from other people really help with this as I love considering new angles and tropes.

When something is hard/new I think we go more carefully, and are forced to be more novel, and I really really like improving my skills by doing that. It’s helped me write some of my favourite work.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

There are two secret Corintheus fics I wrote alongside those for Corintheus week that need a last edit before posting but I’m being very quiet about what they are :) should be a nice surprise! I’m also very proud of my Corintheus ‘divorce au’ that I still need do some work on before I post. I think the one I’m most excited about is probably role reversal au because when finished it’s going to be the longest fic I’ve yet posted that’s not split into a series. It'll also be the longest fic I’ve written in years.

It’s quite ambitious, and will probably have a sequel. I’ve planned the second arc out because I had to split the original fic in two. There’s lots of threads as well as other relationship dynamics and subplots. It’s about Dream and the Corinthian of course, but also very much about how they interact with other characters. Death shows up quite a lot, but I would say that Lucienne and Gault are the other really major characters in the fic.

I’m also branching out into other parings/writing some more gen fics. And, as an honourable mention, what was intended as the last two parts of Baiting the Trap have both been written for over a year and every single day I just want to share where it’s going. Unfortunately there’s at least two more in the middle, which I’m also excited about, but when I get to it I’m going to feel so relieved. 

Oh! And the Corintheus seduction au! Goodness I’m excited about everything aren’t I? Though I guess that sums me up! Thank you so much for your questions I hope you enjoyed my answers :)

[tyfinn]

Fic Stats Game

Thank you @jesuisici33 and @apothecarose for always tagging me in things, even if I don't always play.

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

Most HIts:

Rings Around Your Heart:

David is shocked to learn he fathered a daughter before he moved to Schitt's Creek. Patrick, Stevie, and all the townies help him navigate fatherhood, and what it really takes to make a family. This was a true labor of love, and paved the way into a series I am very proud of. These stories became very personal, as I made David's daughter ace, and wanted to show an ace protagonist who could live a very full life.

Second Kudos:

Man About Town:

David is stuck at home with a sprained ankle.

Patrick and Stevie learn that maybe David loves his town more than he lets on, and the town loves him back. I love that Patrick realizes David needs to keep some things to himself, and he is okay with that.

Third Comments:

Snippets of a Life- 2023

My 100 word drabbles for this year provided by @schittscreekdrabbleblog

Fourth Bookmarks

Please Don't Tell Your Husband

David has to deal with a drunk Patrick after receiving a call to pick him up at the Wobbly Elm. This was inspired by a Heartstopper tweet.

Fifth Most Words

A December to Remember

My first month long daily fic challenge to myself. I really enjoyed challenging myself, so much so, I did another one in February and May. (I'm thinking about doing one more this year, probably in November).

Least Words

Face Me (217 words)

David wants to do something nice for Patrick. This was part of Aacollection of short ficlets (300 words or less) for the prompt, I can't believe you talked me into this.

I've seen quite a few of these, so if you have not played, please consider this your tag!!

[beyondxmeasure]

My collection of fics written for the Fellow Travelers fandom, most recent listed first. Subscribe here for new fic & chapter updates!

✨ Thanks for reading! ✨

♾️ Spaces Between Us

Fic Post

T | 3K | Hawk/Tim | Canon Divergence | Late Night Conversations | Fire Island | 1970s Era

Hawk finally opens up about Jackson, and Tim gives him a bit of tough love advice. A canon-divergent exploration of the late-night poolside conversation.

🔥 Part One of Fire Island After Ever

♾️ Promises Broken, Words Left Unspoken

Fic Post

NR | 750 | Hawk/Tim | Angst & Feels | 1950s Era

One simple request and the emotional toll it takes on Hawk.

Or, the heartbreaking clock tower conversation before Tim goes off to bootcamp.

♾️ Don’t Pull Your Love Out

Fic Post

E | 5K | Hawk/Tim | Alternating POVs | Prison Visits | Flashbacks | Dominant Tim Laughlin | Masturbation/Mutual Masturbation | 1950s Era/1960s Era

Hawk visits Tim in prison, and it stirs up a lot of feelings, and a lot of memories.

♾️ Happy Birthday, Mr. Laughlin

Fic Post

E | 1K | Hawk/Tim | Rehoboth Beach Missing Scene | Blow Jobs/69 | 1950s Era

Hawk tries to make it up to Tim for missing his birthday. Tim's only wish is a gift they can both enjoy.

A missing scene, of sorts, of the Rehoboth Beach weekend getaway.

♾️ I Have You

Fic Post

NR | 2K | Hawk/Tim | Canon Divergent | Fire Island | Tim POV | 1970s Era

After receiving a cryptic postcard, and hearing from Lucy that Hawk's in trouble, Tim takes a trip back east to find out for himself.

A different version of the events that unfold in Fire Island, told from Tim's perspective.

♾️ Darkness Before the Dawn

Fic Post

NR | 1K | Hawk & Marcus | Origin Story | Post-World War II AU | PTSD/Trauma | 1940s Era

It’s June 1944, following the US offensive against the German-led Caesar line that tore through a small squad of the 141st Regiment, killing two men and wounding others, along with Sergeant Hawkins Fuller. Following the blast of the Nazi’s K5 railway gun, he underwent surgery to repair sustained shrapnel damage and is now recovering in the Army’s 32nd Evac Hospital. In the bed next to him lies Corporal Marcus Gaines from the 85th Infantry Division, also wounded in action.

This is the story of how they met.

♾️ Sunday Drabbles & Snippets

NR | 2K | Various Pairings | Snippets & Drabbbles | Multi-Eras

A Collection of my snippets, drabbles and ficlets using prompts from the writing games and challenges in the FT Talk Hub Drabble Sunday.

♾️ Let Me Shower You With My Love

Fic Post

Mature | 7K | Hawk/Tim | Canon Divergence | Angst, Fluff & Smut | 1980s Era

Hawk helps Tim in the shower.

A 1986 canon divergent fix-it.

♾️ I Belong to You

Fic Post

Explicit | 2K | Hawk/Tim | Spanking | Light Bondage | Dom/sub Undertones | Canon Divergence | 1950s Era

This isn’t even close to how he saw their night ending, but here they are, and if Tim wants it rough, who is Hawk to deny him?

Or, the ‘Hit me.’ scene… but a little different. In which Hawk still hits Tim, just not where you think.

♾️ Pretty Weeds

Fic Post

Teen+ | 7K | Hawk/Tim | Tim & Rafael | Hawk & Rafael | Conversations | 1970s Era

Hawk has really put Tim through the emotional wringer this weekend, and he seems far too nice to deserve any of it. Rafael tries his best to give his new friend a warm send-off and a few words of wisdom.

Or, the walk to the ferry from Rafael's POV. Chapter Two: Rafael gives Hawk some tough love after he returns from seeing Tim off on the ferry. 🔥Part Two of Fire Island Ever After

♾️ To Wrap Your Love Around Me

Fic Post

Teen+ | 5K | Hawk/ Tim | Canon Divergence | Introspection | Hurt/Comfort | 1980s Era

Waking up in Tim’s apartment, Hawk discovers Skippy’s old robe, the same one from years ago, and the memories all come flooding back.

♾️ there is no sin in what you & I just did

Fic Post

Mature | 250 words | Hawk/Tim | First Time Encounters | Religious Conflict | Internal Dialogue | Tim POV | 1950s Era

The burden of guilt weighs heavily on Tim for what he’s about to do, but for now, he sets aside any conflicting feelings where God and Hawkins Fuller are concerned, along with the cross around his neck.

[reginarubie]

Jon and Sansa do end up together, but— actually Jon's POV

Because I've heard by mistake a song and I was inspired, so fight me, this is how it went.

This also features a bit of everyone, a little snippet of Joffrey and Cersei as well... and well really, everyone. With a side dish of Arya being blunt as always, Jon and Robb friendship begging, the first time Jon and Sansa met and several other things.

Also... if you were wondering what that “something like that” Jon had said to Podrick last installment of the story... here you learn what that something has been.

Inspired by Surrender by Natalie Taylor, and also, can be found in my ao3 archive of prompts and ficlets (here).

Can we surrender? [Whenever you are ready]

Jon ~

He gazes at the roof, her warm body nestled against his, her head resting against his shoulder, her arms and legs wrapped around him, milky white and pale against the sheets. 

His hand drifts from her shoulder to her waist and up again. The caress so featherlike she doesn’t even wake. He’s grateful for it.

He knows she’s had trouble sleeping. 

The fact that her sleep is undisturbed when she lays beside him fills him with both pride and boundless love. 

He lays there, feeling her breath against his neck, and her lashes brush against his skin. Her hands are warm, they keep at bay the chilling cold of the night.

He remembers perfectly the first time he saw Sansa. 

Robb had always been the kid everyone wanted to be friends with, intelligent, of good family with a brilliant future ahead of him, with the right connection to pursue any dream he might ever have. Even at five Jon had been very aware of all the differences between them. 

He was the son of a single mother, no father to speak of — his mother would not even speak his name and frankly, after one night she had admitted to him that his father had basically groomed her when she was a teenager and that his father had already a wife and children — his mother had to work double hours to just ensure that Jon’s clothes were of good quality and that his homework did not slack due him feeling different. 

Even back then Jon had known Robb Stark was and would have everything Jon ever wanted. Still, he could not bear the boy any ill, he was older than him by half a year and he was just so… kind, when he wasn’t impersonating his own father and bossing people around. 

He was fun to be around too. 

In the beginning they had antagonized each other, but the Starks relentless kindness is something that wins them the heart of all those around them. 

Jon had been six and Robb had been six and half and Jon was a little shit, okay?, he disliked the way most kids in his school paraded around their daddy’s money and often they would bully him because he had no daddy. No dad to come to his soccer practice and to cheer him on when his mom was working.

Jon was alone.

He was an easy victim, not that he staid that way for long. He had started throwing punches long before his mother learned of it, halfway through the first year of school.

Still, it was october and the cold was so intense that it didn’t snow, it just frosted the snow that had fallen the week before when the temperature had been warmer.

A couple of kids had stolen his lunch money — which fine, he would scrape something at home — but then they had started their usual mantra of how he should go tell daddy, oh, no you don’t have a father.

Little shits.

Jon had thrown the first punch when they had called him bastard and his mother a whore. And the second. Maybe even the third before they had overpowered him, kicked him in the tummy and left out of the classroom in the icy wind.

Bastard, they had called him.

Now Jon is old enough to know they weren’t aware of half the words they were using, still it had stung.

Robb Stark had been the one to found him, he had lent him his jacket — warm and furlined — and shared with him his homemade meal. Jon had bitched about that too. Called him names, but Robb had just smiled and shared his lunch with him.

“Your name is Jon, nah?” he had asked. 

Jon had grunted some reply that Robb had miraculously understood and they had eaten together. 

Jon had called him stupid, told him that he didn’t want his pity. 

But, when Jon had finally manage to overpower the leader of the bullies in april of that year, and the others had ganged up on him, Robb had been there. One of his teeth had been knocked out and Jon still remembered Robb standing tall — taller than him — with his mouth bloody, grinning with a missing tooth and giving him the thumbs up.

He had become his brother in all but blood then.

Still, when Robb had brought him to Winterfell Manor Jon had been cautious. It had been lord Eddard Stark who had come to the principal that day when his mother had discovered of his problems at school and his punching tendencies. 

He had been quiet, and seemed the kind of man who never raised his voice, but the face of disappointment he had bestowed on them when he had been told they had been the ones to throw the first punch had almost made Jon shrink down a size.

Even when Ned and Lyanna had learned of the bullying they had been very displeased Jon and Robb had resorted to throw punches instead of involving the adults, though Jon had gained a pat on the shoulder and the head by Ned Stark.

“What do I tell you, always?,” Lyanna had been berating and Jon had been reciting her usual teachings “Walk a mile to avoid a fight—”

“My father used to say something very similar,” Ned Stark had interjected “though he used to say, do not fight—” he said “but if you have to fight, win.”

Lyanna had been exasperated at that “That’s not what I meant at all—”

“No, but the bullies would not have stopped unless he showed them they are weaker than him,” he said “I don’t approve of you throwing punches, boys, so next time avoid it” he had mussed Jon’s hair up and watching him and Robb walk away, Robb waving at him excitedly and Jon had never missed a father more in his life.

And whilst Ned Stark had proved amiable, still, the matriarch of the Stark family was without any doubt not very impressed with Jon having somehow managed to get her son involved in some punch fight. 

She had grounded Robb for five weeks, and coach had put them both on the bench for five matches. 

“Hello Mrs. Stark” 

The woman had been feeding a toddler who seemed to have no intention of ever eat, and kept spitting out everything the mother tried to get her to eat. 

“So, you’re Jon—” she had greeted him “my son tells me you’re a good sort, try not to involve him in another fistfight and we’ll be alright, understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“You can call me Catelyn, darling— are you…ARYA!”

And Mrs Stark was growing increasingly more frustrated with her, the toddler had lusterless brown hair and the grey eyes of her father and a toothy grin that reminded Jon of Robb’s bloodied one.

At one point Mrs Stark got up from her seat to lean against the counter, Jon and Robb had been doing homework.

“Mommy have you seen my pink sweater—?” Jon had not paid much attention to the voice, though Mrs Stark had turned to her eldest daughter, all ready for ballet practice and had sighed. 

“Robb,” she had called “Help your sister lace up her shoes” she had commanded and Robb had mimicked her.

“What do we say?”

“Please, son of mine,” Catelyn Stark had sounded impressively annoyed by her son’s antics “help your sister lace up her shoes”

“I can do it alone, mommy!” said sister had chirped and Robb had shrugged as if to say to his mother see?, but Catelyn Stark’s glare was impressive — it still is — and Robb had jumped down the chair to collect his sisters shoes, whilst said sister sat, bouncing her legs on the chair Robb had just vacated. 

Toddler Arya had been playing with her food. 

Jon had stood up then, awkward to share the kitchen with a girl he barely knew. Sansa Stark, was her name, was Robb’s little sister, she had red hair held in a braided bun held by a dragonfly pin, she was wearing a stupidly frilly skirt and no shoes. 

Her eyes were big and blue.

Very blue.

They were impressively blue. 

To busy himself in any way possible he had found his way to toddler Arya, still playing with his food, and more out of boredom than any other reason he had taken up the spoon and tried to feed her. Imagine his surprise when Arya had eaten willingly and demanding more with her dirty, chubby hands.

“Wow,” little Sansa had commented “look at how well she behaves! You’re so good with her!” 

Jon had blushed at that, though he was too embarrassed to speak and had not looked at her, not as Robb helped her lace up her shoes, nor as she demanded he carried her backpack for her to the car.

Though he had watched her leave.

Toddler Arya had babbled incoherently and Jon had felt almost accused, though he did not know of what.

Jon had watched her go, and as she had skipped the way to the gates she had turned around and smiled at him, the greenery of the courtyard making her look like some kind of fairytale princess.

***

For years, after that, Sansa had been at the periphery of his life, but never truly a central character of it. They run in different circles and Jon was okay with that, what more, your best friend’s sister is virtually untouchable, so…better off this way.

Still, Jon was almost always at Winterfell Manor, and often times overnight, especially when they had found out Lyanna’s cancer. Ned Stark had pulled several strings and in the end Lyanna had been transferred to Harrenhal Hospital, one of the best for this kind of things, and Jon had moved permanently, until Lyanna had recovered that is, in the Stark home. 

Life was different with so many people around, Jon was used to it being just him and his mother, and all the chaos the Stark siblings brought around did not lessen her absence. 

At times he was severely overwhelmed by the Starklings running around like little wildlings in the courtyard and he would rather stay cooped up inside watching some TV. It had been that way that Jon had developed an interested for the naturalistic documentaries no one wanted to watch. 

That was until one day Sansa had left her alcove in her room — her very pink and white room — a book of some fantasy story in hand and had sat on the couch beside him. 

Jon had been an inch to try and made her scurry out of what had become his safe place, but he couldn’t literally haunt away from her own home Sansa, so he had sat tight hoping the documentary might bore her enough to send her back to her daydreaming in her pink room.

Ew pink, looking back at it made Jon shake his head, especially considering the woman he is holding is wearing a soft pink nightgown, thank you very much.

When, after half an hour it had been clear she would not move, Jon had started to relax. Her presence seemed to sooth a bit the ache of his mother’s absence and it didn’t overwhelm him like the others did upon time; plus the noise of her turning the pages and her soft breathes kind of relaxed him too.

They had come closer to loose Lyanna that year and Jon had spent his first Christmas without his mother — it had happened again, on occasion, but lately they both had worked out a way to spend it together since after he had returned from the Nights Watch operative squadron — he had been so downtrodden that not even Robb’s easy smile could help him feel better, nor the several gifts he received.

“This is for you,” he remembers an eleven year old Sansa tell him handing to him a badly wrapped gift. 

His wife is good at many things, but wrapping gifts is not her forte. 

He had been so surprised she had gotten him a gift — he had not gotten her any — but he had been especially touched when the gift had turned out to be an hand-knit scarf with his favorite colors. The knit wasn’t perfect, but for Jon, to this day, it’s the most beautiful scarf in the world.

Thus his childish crush on his best-friend’s sister was born, even if he would not realize it for years, yet. 

Though he made sure to always have ready a gift for Christmas and her birthday, a thoughtful gift, because she had the capacity of making him feel less alone.

By the time he had been seventeen and Sansa fifteen Jon had been completely aware of his terribly improper crush on her, though he was determined to wait it out and do nothing about it.

Na-ah he would not act on it, not even remotely even if her new boyfriend was terribly annoying — to his great frustration taller than both him and Robb despite being younger — and the perfect picture of the kind of prince from the stories Sansa so much loved.

No.

He would wait out the year, walk away, enlist for the Nights Watch and one day he’d return and his crush on her would have disappeared without him even noticing.

It had been a good plan — Jon sneers at the sheer idiocity of it now.

That was, until that night. Jon could still recall every single minute of it, from the moment he had been in his car with Alys Karstark trying not to let the idea of Sansa with Joffrey disturb him too much to the moment he had grabbed Sansa’s hand and gotten her out of that house.

It had been 9:27 PM, he remembers starkly and his phone had blared in his backpocket. Alys had been annoyed by him replying but seeing Sansa’ name flashing on the screen had put him on edge.

“Sansa?,” but no reply had come from the other side of the phone, only sobs. He still remembers the way Alys Karstark had redone the two upper buttons of her shirt and rolled her eyes.

When Sansa had not replied still he had added “Baby, speak to me, what it is?”

Alys had left in a huff then. But Sansa had not replied still, she had only said “Jon” and her voice had trembled the way it did when she contained the tears threatening to fall off her cheeks.

This is it, he remembers thinking, “Baby, I need you to tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you”

She had exhaled, Jon likes to think in relief then. She had not been able to tell him where she was, but his phone had pinged with her position. 

Jon had just convinced his mother to lend him the car, and he was about to crash it in the attempt to get her fast enough.

The Lannister Villa had been a two hours drive from there, he didn’t even know why the Lannister had a fucking villa in the North, nor why they had transferred there with Ned Stark’s bestfriend last year, but he didn’t care. All he had cared about had been Sansa.

He had made it in twenty minutes, probably breaking every speed limit of the state, he didn’t care.

The Villa had been alight with noise and lights as Sansa had been invited to a party, he remembered watching her parade around in that stupid lilac dress all ready with her hair straightened and her lips plump and pink. 

Fuck, and he had thought he had not paid attention to her.

Jon had parked the car with such a violence that the wheels had hissed against the cement, then he had hopped off it and slammed the door shut, some of the guests had noticed the broody teen, all black curls and stormy expression stride inside the backyard.

“Where is she?!” he had thundered to poor Myrcella, who to her credit is not as bad as the rest of her family. 

But she had been scared, that much he remembers. 

Her voice had been squeaky “Upstairs,” she had said “in my room, but Jon—” and Jon had not cared as to why she knew his name, the insipid girl had never spoke to him once “my mother is there with her, you don’t have to worry—”

That had been reason enough to worry.

Jon had taken the stairs two by two and in the end he had found Cersei Lannister trying to open the door to the bathroom directly connected to Myrcella’ room.

“Who are you?!” she had demanded “what are you doing in my home? Thief! I’ll have you arrested for this!”

Jon had shouldered past her and her yelling and had leaned against the door 

“Sans?” he had called, but Sansa had been letting the water run, possibly to drain out all the noises Cersei Lannister kept making.

When Cersei Lannister made to grab him Jon had, had enough and simply… broke down the door?

Jon had been doing boxe, he knew he was strong, still up to today he believes it had been adrenaline more than strength that helped him slam the door open.

Sansa had been sitting on the tub, the water running and her face tear-striken, but that had not been what had sent him spiraling, no what did it, had been her bruising cheek and eye, her busted lip.

Jon wanted to kiss those lips.

Joffrey had no business even being close to them and he abused them that way? Abused her that way?, the girl Jon wanted? The girl Jon loved?

He had knelt before her and had put his hand on her thigh, she had shivered.

“You’re ice cold, baby—” and yeah, after he would have realized he had called her baby several times that evening, thankfully she was too out of it to connect the dots, he had wrapped her in his jeans jacket and had helped her up.

Though the moment he had seen Joffrey sneering at them and demanding he unhanded his girlfriend Jon had snapped.

To this day Jon cannot say how many times he punched him, the first moment of lucidity he had was when Sansa had called out, breathy and trembling his name.

That had stilled him.

He had turned in rage to look at her, and seeing her narrow shoulders wrapped in his jacket all fury had evaporated as if made of nothing but thin air.

Fuck, I’m in love with her.

He had stood up then, leaving Joffrey bloody on the carpet, before the eyes of everyone, Robert Baratheon included. He had taken Sansa’s hand then.

“You wanted to file a compliant, Mrs Baratheon,” he commented darkly “please do, I’ll happily meet your scumbag of a son in court for assault once he has faced the charges we will file against him” all in all, he thought that Catelyn Stark would be pretty proud of his speech.

Sansa had not let go of his hand, not even to let him drive and Jon had not let her go either, not until they had been inside Winterfell Manor and Sansa had fallen into her mother’s worried embrace. 

Feel my white flag,

my love where are you—?

Jon had had another run in with Joffrey, at school. He and Robb had made sure he pressed no charges and that he knew that no one touched Sansa and walked away unscathed.

It had been the first time Sansa had tended to his bruised knuckles. It had not been the last.

He had toyed with the idea of asking her to be his date to prom, maybe that would put a smile to her beautiful face, but in the end he had chickened out of it. And in the end the time for his enlistment had come and Jon had been saying goodbye to the Starks and his mother.

“You’ll be careful?”

“Stop nagging him, Sans!” Robb complained “you’re worse than his mother is, no offense meant, Ms Snow!”

Jon had wanted to take her hand then. He had been too chicken to do that too. 

“I promise, Sansa” he had told her gently “and you’ll keep doing the therapy like you promised?”

“I said I would, and I will” Sansa had nodded to him and Jon had known he had to walk away at one point.

To turn his back to her.

Foolish idiot he had been.

And, in the rear mirror he had seen his mother and Sansa watching him go, they had been his focal point, though Arya and Bran and Rickon and Robb had been there as well.

Stupid boy.

***

Surprisingly Sansa kept in touch during his first years at Castle Black and even came around, once or twice. 

That was how she had met his comrade, Waymar Royce. The lucky bastard, who had the chance Jon had butchered in its crib when he had become Robb’ best friend, but at least Waymar treated her right.

For a time.

And Jon had found his own dimension with the brotherhood, and surprisingly with the wildlings as well.

Ygritte had been a lapse in judgment, he had known from the beginning that they wanted different things, that they looked at life differently, but then she had laughed so easy and then she had sung before the fire and Jon had been done for.

She had been a passionate lover, she is a passionate woman. Too harsh, and she made fun of every softness she ever saw in him.

I’d like to see you in a silk dress — no, she’d look more like Sansa despite not being half as beautiful.

The thought had comforted him in the beginning.

Like those frilly silk dresses you southerners wear?, no thank you. She had replied harshly, or you’d like too that I’d scream ‘Oh, a spider! Jon Snow, save me!’

Sansa was not afraid of spiders, and he disliked Ygritte generalization that all women who wore silks were somewhat fragiler than her. 

It had been Sansa who had found Ned after his motorcycle accident, she had been the one to call the ambulance and ride with him to the hospital and offer the first help she could, she had seen her father almost being decapitated by the motorcycle he had been riding, and had seen him almost loose a leg. 

There was nothing weak in Sansa.

So that I could tear if off ye, he had said, between gritted teeth, knowing he had imagined Sansa in her stupidly flawless dress at one of the many charities dinners and how she’d look if he tore it off her. 

But Ygritte had not understood. Or perhaps she had understood way too well. She had followed Jon to Castle Black with her cousin Gilly and his sworn brother Sam, and Sansa and Arya had been there. 

He had lost track of time during his stay beyond the Wall and when he had returned he had found out it was around Arya’s sixteenth birthday and with her new car she and Sansa had drove to Castle Black to surprise him.

Jon had been touched, Ygritte less so. Especially when she had noticed the wistful way Jon had looked at Sansa and Waymar. He had never considered Ygritte especially perceptive, but she had caught on, on his crush on Sansa pretty quick.

Their breakup had been explosive, she had even punched him in the face and had threatened him with Jon’s own service gun. Thankfully she didn’t fire, but Jon had no doubt that if lord Commander Mormont had not intervened when he did, she would have done something drastic for both of them. 

He had only been thankful that word of exactly why they had broke up never got to Waymar or worse, Sansa. She’d never forgive herself, she’d probably trek to Ygritte’s hut only to convince her that she was wrong.

Waymar had seemed blissfully ignorant and that meant Sansa was too. Now, Arya…that was all another story, it had gotten to the point that when they had went out to properly celebrate her birthday and the boy she had a crush on had come with his new girlfriend Arya had moped and found him at the bar.

“Is this how you feel when you see her with beautiful-hair?” she had asked sitting on the stool beside his and frowning at that Gendry-fella.

Jon had almost spat all the beer he had in his mouth “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, you can fool Robb,” Arya had told him, mighty unimpressed, “you can fool her and Gods be good, you can fool even yourself, but you cannot fool me”

Jon had found no words to deny it then “Aye,” he had replied at her original question then and Arya had sighed “It bloody sucks doesn’t it?”

Jon had shrugged.

Silence had ensued as Sansa, social butterfly that she was managed to politely flip Gendry and his new girlfriend the bird. 

“You know, I kinda hate her at times,” Arya had confided to him “but, not really. She’s annoying, like really annoying, but I kind of see where you come from”

It had been as close to a blessing he had gotten from the Starks about his crush on Sansa. 

“Does it ever stop?” Arya had asked after a long while, and Jon had been already halfway his next pint.

“Don’t know what to tell you,” he had replied “It hasn’t stopped yet, for me”

“How do you manage not to punch him in the gut?,” Arya had demanded, when Waymar had swept Sansa in for the kiss of the century “I’m not even half in love with Gendry as you are with her, and I still want to tear all of Ly-lah stupidly pretty hair from her skull”

“He makes her happy,” he had mumbled, as if explained everything, no matter the way his heart kept breaking.

It had begun with Waymar stumbling over his words to ask Sansa out to dinner.

It had ended with their breakup. 

Jon and Waymar had shared a silent pint over it, then Jon had walked away.

In a couple of years Jon had stepped down from his operative days and he had met Val. 

His whole relationship with Val still broke his heart a little to think of. Val had not deserved to be the second choice and honestly Jon had believed to have outgrown, outlasted his crush on Sansa. 

And on it had went, for almost a year and half. During one of his visits to Winter Town Sansa had basically dragged him away from the raucous Winterfell mason and had taken him with her to the elderly home she often visited. 

There had been Podrick, the one she had confided to him, she had, had a crush on almost three months prior. Not even Robb had, had anything against him, which made hives rise upon his arms.

But seeing her so enamored by him? Jon could hardly take it, but it wasn’t easy telling  Sansa Stark no. Usually his wife would anyway get her way and you’d end up feeling like shit because you had tried to deny her, her wish. It always backfires, in his experience. Never get her to use her puppy eyes on you, and never have her so much in a strife she’ll use that sharp tongue of hers to make so much sense you wonder why you are even trying to tell her no.

“Sansa I don’t know if that’s—”

“Hello everyone!,” her grip on his hand, had been like a tether, and Jon had followed it like he no choice and chance “Stop being so shy! — I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend over!”

Jon had entered everyone’s field of vision then, and Podrick Payne had been there, in the first line, gazing at Sansa and then at their clasped hands. Jon had let got of her hand then, discreetly, even thought every fiber of his being had told him to hold on tight and face straight on this boy who thought he had any business trying to get his Sansa to fall in love with him.

“Stop manhandling me,” he had told her stiffly, but Sansa had just rolled her eyes.

“Then stop being so stubborn. Jon, this is my friend Podrick, the one I told you about. Pod this is Jon”

Jon had felt his whole world crumble to dust and re-settle itself as the boy, with a taurine neck and honest eyes suddenly looking quite uncertain, Jon had schooled his expression — conceal don’t feel — and had offered him his hand. Jon might never be Sansa’s other half, but he would vet anyone who thought of even coming close to her.

“Pleased to meet you,” he had said “I am sorry Sansa sprang me on you all” he had added politely looking pointedly at Brienne. 

He thinks of Val for a moment, wondering how she’d like this place, she laments that the elderly of the Free Folk are not supported enough by the Realm which has recluded them in the reserve of Beyond the Wall.

Sansa had urged him to join her and he had followed suit, and he had discovered some unadulterated sense of peace in joining her and speaking to the old ladies and gentlemen, speaking to them about his time with the Free Folk. 

“Oh,” a woman had asked “you’ve seen many wildlings?”

“I did ma’am, thought they prefer to be called Free Folk, they’re not so different from us, after all. They’re very loud” he had added thinking back on Ygritte. His face must’ve had shown his distress because Sansa’s hand had come atop his on his lap.

He had raised his gaze and smiled up at her, knowing she could read him so well at times it was a wonder she had never learned of his crush on her, but thankful nonetheless, and a beautiful shade of pink had colored her cheek making her look even more lovely as she beamed at him “Jon,” she had said “is considered a Free Folk friend,” she had told them “they trust him”

And for a moment Jon had felt the most special man in the wide world.

He had cornered Podrick some time after that, taking a brief breath from it all, and had confronted him about his crush on her, indirectly.

“I like her as well,” he had admitted and Jon had smiled at that.

“I know,” he had said twisting around and looking at her, smiling and listening to everyone, making them feel heard and understood, asking after their children and grandchildren. Remembering little nothings they must’ve told her another time as easy as she can recall the date of the War of Five Kings or declame the names of all princess and ladies and heroes and knights from the songs.

To everyone’ detriment.

“Dance with me!” it had not been the first time Sansa wrestled him in dancing with her, and despite being a terrible dancer Jon indulges her, though soon enough they’re just swaying at a tempo not that of the music and Jon had ended up hoisting her up his chest and twirling her around like he had done when she had been a girl with a frilly ballet skirt and lucid ballerinas at her feet. 

And Sansa had laughed and Jon had let her kiss his cheek. He had went to sleep smiling that night, after they had video called, because Sansa was a fan of video calling above texting or calling.

Then for months Sansa had been a near permanent fixture near him beyond the Wall as they helped the Free Folk making their voice heard across the country and to the Senate and the king. Still he had walked around blessedly ignorant of how much beneath the surface his love for her had been brimming.

It had taken Sansa and Val being abducted for his instincts to kick in once again and prove to him that he was most certainly not over her.

Can we, can we surrender?

Jon could not recall being so scared, not even when she had called to him that one time with Joff. Jon knew he could take on Joff.

He had not slept, not eaten, the anxiousness eating at him at the very idea of Sansa and Val both in peril, and when finally he had found them…Sansa had, had blood on her face — someone had cut her cheek and she had turned her head to look away from the sheer violence of the fight that ensued to save them — and his entire body had deflated.

Can we, can we surrender?

Jon had kissed Val, feeling relief flooding his senses, as Sansa finally blinked up at him.

“Jon..?”

“It’s alright baby,” he had murmured against her forehead as he kissed her head reverently. 

It had been his fault, Jon had been distracted by her presence again, by his duties and he had not seen the abduction coming “I’ve got you,” he had hoisted her up his chest and they had walked out of it.

They had, had a fight too, the day before they got abducted. Sansa had wanted to remain even as winter was starting to snow the wildling villages in, with the danger she’d have to spend the entirety of the season beyond the Wall. And Jon had been half an inch from bending her over the fucking table and kiss her silly until she just fucking stopped talking.

He had hovered like a dark shadow around her as the paramedic had looked over her injury and Sansa had been none too impressed with it. 

“Jon stop looking at me like your pet has died,” Sansa had muttered exasperated “I promise I am fine,” 

“If you just had listened to me nothing of this would’ve happened,” he had recriminated and Sansa had smiled sweetly at the paramedic who had finished with her and had started to try and look over his own excoriations.

“I can take it from here,” Sansa had dismissed the paramedic.

“But his—” the man had started to point out, but Sansa had gingerly took his cotton and disinfectant from his hands.

“I’ve got this, it’s not the first time I tend to his bruised knuckles, I promise”

“It’s not the first time I bruise them to protect you either,” Jon had quipped unhelpfully. Sansa’ glare had shut him up real quick.

“You’re so stupid,” Sansa had accused him “I know you were scared and now you’re taking that frustration out on me”

Maybe I should kiss you stupid, may it be that it’d make you listen to me for once.

“Sorry” but then the words had died on his tongue when Sansa had leaned close studying his eyes. There had been nothing sexual about it, and yet Jon had felt himself stir at her vicinity.

“Stu-pid!” she had said then, breaking the spell and leaning back, whacking him behind the head “you look like you haven’t slept in days, go to Val, and sleep”

And only at that point Jon had been reminded of his own girlfriend, and he had felt like the worst scum at the bottom of the earth. He had went to her, but he had been so ashamed, so fearful… that he had wanted to hide from the entirety of the world, the world that had always hung to a shrivel of his will to stay away from Sansa.

The same world that collapsed and imploded on himself with four simple words.

“YOU SAID HER NAME!” Val had only murmured it, but it had been as strong as if she had screamed. 

Sansa had been so close too, that his first instinct had been to turn to her, to see if she had noticed the commotion, but blessedly she had been busy with the interviewer to care. Beautiful, brave and lovely, she was shining so bright that for a moment he had been blind to anything but her.

How, how had he ever thought to be over her?

Val’s heart had broke at that, he knew, and to this day Jon knows that, that broken heart is his cross to bear. He caused that. 

His wife stirs gently beside him “Honey,” she mumbles half asleep “what time it is?”

Jon doesn’t let her twist in his hold “It’s early,” he tells her “get back to sleep”

His wife, bless her soul, has never liked being bossed around “Are you alright?” she asks, settling back against his chest and snuggling closer. 

“I am” he promises. 

When he and Val had broken up Jon had promised himself. Enough was enough, he either worked himself out of his love for Sansa or merely surrendered to the inevitable truth that he was forever meant to be in love with her. No matter the odds.

It had been during one of his visits to the local school of Mole Town that everything had changed. 

The motion for the independence of the North and the Freedom of the Free Folk was being spoken about in Senate, he and Sansa had videocalled the morning, before he had begun his speech to the first class, and she had prep-talked to him, made sure he felt confident. 

Then, out of the blue, Jon had turned as he had been explaining how the Free Folk claimed descent from the First Men and how they viewed and treated the land they considered their own, and she had been there, looking down and smiling at a little girl who had noticed her — the only one who had thus far — her red hair falling across her shoulders and framing her lovely face.

And Jon had known it.

Surrender it is.

“And you, miss Stark,” he had called, bringing his hands behind his back and smiling at her looking at him as if he were her math teacher hell-bent on calling her to the slate for a surprise exam “what can you tell us of the Free Folk?”

And all the children had turned and awed. Sansa, as all the Starks had been well known even back then, the natural heir to her lord father and as beautiful and elegant as Jenny of Oldstones must’ve been — or so, some claimed. He thought no matter how beautiful Jenny might’ve been, Sansa was bound to be twice as beautiful, though he supposed Duncan prince of Dragonflies would possibly debate against it.

He had smirked at her good-naturedly and Sansa had seemed to consider something, she cocked her head to the side and then she had spoken, weaving tale after tale of how strong and beautiful and spiritual the people Beyond the Wall were. 

The children had been enchanted by it. And Jon too to be honest, he had no doubt Sansa would gain whatever she wanted from the Senate if they only let her speak publicly about it.

By the time the doorbell rang for the lunch the children didn’t want to leave her behind “I’ll be right behind you,” she had told a girl who had been brave enough to take her hand and start to tug “I just have to ask mr Snow a thing” she had said pointing at him with a wave of hand. Her voice hiding mirth but outlined almost stiffly.

“Oh, mr Snow” the girl had exclaimed “you’re in trouble, you are!” before skipping out of class with her friend trailing behind her.

As soon as the door closed behind them Jon neared to her, suddenly preoccupied. Was there a reason why she had sought him out?, something with Ned? Or Aunt Catelyn?

“Everything okay, Sans?” he had asked, unable to help himself and Sansa had looked completely downtrodden, which had made him cage in one her, he had not even realized he had done it until she had grabbed him by his blue shirt, inclined her head and pressed her lips across his.

It had been nothing but the brush of her lips against his, but Jon had felt his entire world and being flare up as he had looked down on her surprise coloring his features.

“So,” Sansa had commented, walking around him — still gaping like an idiot, but his brain had not been working yet, thank you very much — and making her way almost to the door “for tonight at dinner, the Queensgate pub or—”

Only then had Jon’ brain started to compute again “Yes” he had breathed, almost stumbling around his suddenly very ungraceful limbs to reach her “Yes”

Amusement had sparked in Sansa’s eyes “Yes to what..? You’ll have to be more specific—”

Jon had cupped her cheeks then and fucking kissed her, okay? He had smooched her silly like he had wanted for the better part of the last at least fifteen years, pressed his lips against her and finally tasted the heaven inside her lips. 

Sansa had let him kiss her, but then she had wrapped her hands around his wrists and leaned back from his lips “I’m not joking,—” she had said “I’m deadly serious, which one do you..?—”

Jon had narrowed his eyes in fond annoyance then, pecking her lips “Baby,” he had drawled “I love you, I really do, but if you don’t shut up now I’ll really snog every coherent thought from this really pretty head of yours” and his hands had been across her waist and Sansa had arched a brow at him “until it’s all me and empty of all the rest”.

She had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck “You’re still talking? For sure you talk big for someone—”

Needless to say Jon had snogged her a good deal, also crumpling her beautiful skirt and shirt —oops, — before they had gone for lunch, and even then Jon had eaten more of her lunch than his, with all the kissing.

“You’re thinking something silly again” Sansa tells him, her eyes are closed, her smile distended and Jon kisses her lips.

“I am not”

“Yes, you are” she says, her voice sure “I know you.” she adds a for half a minute there's silence “Honey?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I know it’s difficult, since you’re silly,” she says “but your silliness is disrupting my beauty sleep”

“Oh,” Jon smirks as her hand starts to draw patterns across his lower abdomen “However will I make it up to you?”

Sansa’s beam is unrepentant then, and joyous, and what can Jon says? He loves this woman.

I surrender.

Fin

Here it is!, hope you enjoyed! As always sending all my love ~G.

[loserchildhotpants]

Get to know your fic writer asks please 18-22, 67, 39, 54

fic writer asks

18] Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Titles are my worst enemies. The answer to your question is that it depends on the fic. A monster of a fic i've been writing for a few months now [42k words today and abt halfway through] is STILL untitled, but my ficlet Lost in the Sauce (a food kink prompt fill) was named as I put the first few sentences down lol. What i CAN say is that i have NEVER named a fic BEFORE writing it. Vibes determine too much and i never know what the vibe is gonna be til i start writing slkdfj so i only ever title during or after, and if im unable to come up w something wholly original myself, i use song lyrics bc im basic. Usually tho i like titling my fics after some important or key piece of narration or dialogue from the fic itself, so that u can have that Dicaprio Meme Moment of pointing at your screen

19] What is your most used tag on your AO3?

It appears to be a tie between Mutual Pining and Love Confessions sdkjfhsd

20] Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

oh my fics definitely have recognizable patterns slkdjhffksjdh i think my writing style is a specific flavor and so if u open one of them up, u basically know what you're getting. not that that's a bad thing!

words/expressions -- idk! there's the obvious overuse of 'sigh' 'says' 'glances' -- stuff like that, but that's just the curse of writing so many interpersonal interactions lol tbh im unsure! if anyone wants to call me out on words or expressions i abuse in my fics pls let me know kjdsf

common settings: i am a canon-divergence lover so sets get reused all the time skdjfhsdlkj

themes: living, working through, or succumbing to grief, dealing w fear, finding forgiveness for past selves, reconciling who we are w who we thought we would be, generalized queer panic/denial and other identity crisis issues... uhh... i mean i also like to think im romantic tho sljkdfhsjkldfh

21] Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I have! This is a recent development! I don't usually collab bc i am fearful of Judgement sjkdfh like i get scared of what people will think of my writing process or how clunky or bad it sounds when it's just a draft -- i don't usually like anyone seeing what i'm writing until it's finished, but i've recently started collaborating a lot w majorly 2 of my friends : ) growth ✨

22] Are there certain types of writing you won't do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

hmmmmmmmmm. years ago i switched from writing Past Tense to Present Tense and i'll never go back lol i LOVE writing in Present Tense. i feel like it adds an element of tension and the feeling that the future is still v malleable.

i don't know that i could write something good in first person POV :T like, i don't have anything against first person POV, i just don't think that's where my skill set lies and my execution of it would probably be really bad and cringe skldjfhfjk lol so i probably won't do that

there's no genre i can think of that i'd be opposed to trying my hand at and that goes for tropes too. there's loads i haven't tried yet, mostly bc they don't like, independently spark inspiration in me, but if given a prompt for it, i'd probably try! there's lots of dead dove topics that'd probably be really fun to write and i just haven't tried yet bc i am Soft and tend towards pining and love confessions skdljfh lol

39] Share a snippet from a WIP

"“Oh — oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to — oh, I always muck this stuff up, that must have been so out of line, I’m so sorry —”

“Samuel,” she interjects gently, her voice practically a whisper, “I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone with a kinder heart. I don’t know that anyone has ever made such a well wish on my behalf. You’ve just startled me is all… you do that.”

Feeling that Rowena crying is very simply, unnaturally wrong, Sam stops resisting the compulsion to touch her and reaches with his free hand across his chest to swipe at the tear near the apple of her cheek.

The tips of his fingers on that hand come in contact with a lock of her hair and the outer shell of her ear, and he gets chills up his arms and back from that alone; Dean was right, he might spontaneously combust at anything more.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says, though he thinks she already knows that, “I would never mean for that. I had rather hoped to make you smile.”

“You tread carefully now,” Rowena warns him, her lips twitching, eyes shining, “or I’ll steal you for myself, Samuel, like some terrible witch of the woods, and I won’t return you to whatever world you come from.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Sam confesses softly, smiling back at her.

For a thrilling moment, he sees Rowena’s eyes gentle, sees her consider him seriously, as if she might just be thinking of him the way he hopes beyond hope she might.

She goes to say something, but —"

54] What's your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

i just love looking at a blorbo and being like 'let's put that guy in a situation.' top tier writing experience. i love taking an established character and really thinking hard abt what i know abt them, whether i want them to grow or i wanna study who they are without forcing evolution, thinking abt how they'd navigate some circumstance or conflict, consider what has already been written for that circumstance or conflict in fandom, and what new interpretation, in my own style, i can bring to the table to offer something new and interesting. it's like taking a beloved recipe of something that can't fail, and just seeing what cool new thing ur own perspectives and styles can do w it!

67] Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Sort of a mix of both? I love prompts, they send me on Brain Trains (destination: Dissociation Station) and the thing is, i usually stray from hard lines. like, i sometimes work off of being INSPIRED by a prompt rather than following the actual prompt? challenges sometimes scare me off bc once i have a Due By Date my brain will shut off creativity and get frightened lol i really love my independent ideas, but i have my best independent ideas while discussing prompts and challenges w other folks and spinning limbs off that original prompt or challenge until what i want to do is outside the guidelines of that prompt or challenge.

that said, i LOVE getting prompts from anons and stuff. there's something really flattering and happy-making abt someone popping into my inbox to be like 'i'd like to see YOUR specific take on this' ; u ;

anon thank u so much for sending me so many asks!! T A T <333

[stevethehairington]

22, 29, 32 for the writers questions!!

ty for sending this in!! <3

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

hm this is. this is a funny one to answer bc i feel like i am part incredibly organized and part chaotic mess lmfao. bc like i use google drive for my fics and i have a RIGID organizational structure for that. like i have a folder for each of the fandoms i've written for and within that fandom folder i have a writing folder and within that writing folder i have my docs. and those are organized by docs i've started and are either waiting to be written or are in the middle of being written which kind of hang out in the folder loosely. but then i have a separate folder for my finished fics, a separate folder for my finished fics' plan/outline docs (if they have one), and a separate folder for each event/challenge/project i've participated in. so like for steddie i have a folder for each of the zines i'm in and a big bang folder.

but then when it comes to what i'm actually writing... that can get messier lmao. i kind of write across like 3 different platforms? like i use google docs for my main document to write in, but i also write in the notes app on my phone, and i handwrite a lot of things too (mostly bc i cant use my computer at work to write fic so i resort to good ol fashioned pen and paper lol). so it can get tricky trying to remember WHERE i wrote that one piece i'm looking for lol and i have to dig and dig through sheets of notebook paper and my insane amount of notes on my phone and the docs that i have (bc sometimes if it's getting too long i'll split up the doc too just to get a clean work space).

i also have a binder that is full of like old fic stuff i've jotted down, whether that be old snippets i've written, or ideas i've scribbled onto a sticky note, or something i printed out to edit. that binder has stuff from sooo many different fandoms in it lol. i've tried organizing it by fandom and i've bunched all the stuff for one specific idea into a paperclipped stack or i've put it in one of those sheet protector pages lol.

but yeah it's like organized chaos i guess you could say. but it works for the most part so! here i am! lol

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

ooh! easy question!! i draw inspiration from literally anything and everything!! the world is full of stuff that makes GREAT stories!! so yeah i absolutely pull from everything around me - whether that's looking up prompts on tumblr, watching a show/movie or reading a book and wanting to au it, something a friend/coworker/someone random on the street said, an object i see that sparks something in me, a color, a weather pattern, a mood, a song, a recipe, my own feelings, other people's feelings, my life experiences, other people's life experiences.

inspiration really truly comes from everwhere!

when the well runs dry i try to dig deeper. i try to look through prompts that might spark something, even if it's a tiny little ficlet. oh i also like to look through old ideas i've had for other fandoms when this happens bc sometimes the best thing to do is to recycle!! bc like the inspiration was there at some point, and looking back on it helps to respark that and bring it back! and trying to revamp it to fit my current fandom/pairing really helps get the gears turning again too.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

you can find the answer to this one here!

weird questions for writers

[chocomd]

Fanfic end-of-year: 3, 17, 25 💜

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Ohhh this is a hard one, since I’ve written so much this year 😅 But I loved how the scene in my breakup/make up Kataang fic, Drag You Down, turned out - where Aang heals Katara’s bruised wrist with firebending. I really wanted to write Aang healing Katara, but not with waterbending, since that seems like the most expected and frequently used route. And then I realized that heat can heal, too, and that’s how the idea was born. Oh and I loved writing the Kataangst in this scene, of course! A snippet from the scene (they’re still broken up at this point) below:

So when Aang asked Katara if she wanted him to soothe her wrist, her heart leaped in her chest. She knew she should say no. But she had begun to let him in, opened herself up to him. She didn’t want to stop. It had been so long—too long—since he had touched her like this. She didn’t want him to let go of her hand.

“Yes,” she found herself saying. Then, almost in a whisper, “Please.”

Aang laid his palm over the sensitive underbelly of her wrist, where every graze against her skin was a heightened sensation. With his hand cradling her arm and his other one wrapped around her wrist, Katara felt vulnerable but secure. Safe. Aang’s touch was so very different from Amarak’s violent, dominating grasp.

The warmth of Aang’s hand spread through her skin and into the muscles deep inside her arm. With his hand enveloping her wrist, his heat flowed into her and mingled with her own. This was the same heat that only a few short years ago had flared into flames and burned welts into her hands. But she had encouraged him to harness this heat and use it not as flame, but as healing. Together, she and Aang had learned another way in which firebending gave life.

Though firebending—in the form of lightning—had almost separated them forever, firebending now brought them together. As Aang infused his warmth into Katara’s body, she could no longer tell where she ended and where he began.

Katara breathed out, releasing the tension she’d been holding inside. The throbbing pain had started to lessen and eased into a muted ache.

“Does that feel better?” he said quietly. The soft gray of his eyes pulled her in. Crouched over her hand, Aang was so close that she would have very little distance to cross for a kiss.

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

Katara was seized by the impulse to fold her hand around his, the one still curled around her wrist. To complete the growing bond between them. To bring their connection full circle.

17. fics you’ll continue next year

I’ve answered this here, but I’ll talk about another wip for next year! I initially wrote A Peaceful Mission as a short ficlet, but several people who’ve read it are asking for more! I wrote the ficlet for a @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt and I was going to leave it at that - on a cliffhanger, literally 😂 But I’m going to finish the story with a short second chapter, also based on a prompt - this time, an angst prompt from a tumblr ask game from many months ago. I’m mostly finished with the chapter, which I’ll probably post early January.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Also answered here, but I’m happy to rec another fic! The other day, I read Leaves in the Wind by @itsmoonpeaches, and it’s my favorite fic of hers so far! It’s an absolutely beautiful post-ATLA story about how people from all the nations regain their lost heritage in the act of honoring and sending off the ones they had lost during the war. Aang helping the Fire Nation remember their own tradition of sending off the dead was so poignant. But what really took my breath away was the ending, where with the help of his friends, Aang sends off the souls of his own people and puts them and his own heartache to rest 😭💖

FANFIC END OF THE YEAR ASKS

[lurking-latinist]

For the "yet another writing ask" list: 10, 19, 30, 36, 40

10. Favorite tropes.

already answered! But I also like platonic fake marriage, people thinking a character is dead and then they aren't, and anything that messes with characters' minds/perceptions/mental states.

19. Snippet from a WIP: Found one that isn't for an exchange!

“Is it always like that for you?” she asks. “A surprise regeneration, I mean. So sudden and disorganized and—ugh.”

30. Fic that almost happened.

already answered, but here's another: I really wanted to write a sequel to my first-ever fic, the Mel and Six first meeting one, when I realized I had not even remotely gotten to the part where she finds out he's an alien or sees the TARDIS or anything. I even had a title: "Tact and Finesse." But I think it's been long enough that, even if I do write a Mel's-first-TARDIS-trip story, it won't feel continuous with "All the Time in the World."

36. How do I come up with fic titles?

I text Moki and Jan and they come up with them. XD Seriously, though, group brainstorming is excellent. When I'm very lucky, the fic was inspired by a prompt or quote or song that provides a good title. Sometimes I can mine a character playlist for a relevant line, although my #1 source of titles is probably Shakespeare ("to all our nights and days to come," "ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate," "were it not that I have bad dreams," "That Which We Call"), or possibly folk music ("and will not let me sleep," "they'll turn me in your arms, lady," "whistle and I'll come to you," "like a bird on the wing," "True Love and Time (goes on forever)," interestingly not "From 'A Complete Guide to Scottish Music'" but that's only because quoting from "Macrimmon's Lament" isn't really original anymore) with the poems of Andrew Marvell ("and opposition of the stars," "the mind, that ocean where each kind / does straight its own resemblance find") as a contender as well.

When I use a quote as a title I like to choose something long enough to be confusing (i.e. not just "Nights and Days") but short enough to be incomprehensible out of context. I'm not sure this is actually a good decision but it's what I do.

If it's a short piece like a prompt fill or random ficlet, unless I feel a carefully considered title is needed to give the right mood/context to a drabble, I generally just pick something that vaguely refers to what happens in the fic, often a single word.

I used to title all my Seven/Romana fics after some kind of literary device, but I gave up after forcing "Antanaclasis" onto a drabble that it didn't really fit.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

"It doesn't work with the brake off?" said Romana.

[dystini]

Indycar RPF Monthly Challenges - April

No sign ups, no pressure. Join if you are inspired. If things come up and you don't do it/finish it, no big deal. No limit on number of stories you can write. Combine the different challenges together if you want. Ignore the things that don’t inspire you. Really, anything goes.

We’re not going to count your words for the drabble so if you are a word over or a word under, it’s fine. It’s more about the attempt and challenging yourself.

You may post your drabbles/double drabbles in this thread (2000 character limit) if you don’t want to put them on Ao3. You may post Ao3 links or if you’re comfortable with it, share a Google docs link.

A prompt inspires a longer fic that you can’t finish in one month? Wonderful. Give us a teaser or a snippet and don’t forget to post in in the thread when you put it on Ao3.

5 words – random words to spark an idea.

Random pairings are chosen by literally picking names from a hat.

Chatting/venting/cheering/asking for help about your challenge fic(s) is encouraged.

Suggestions for prompts may be sent to @dystini (me)

Not all prompts are for everyone. Please ignore the ones that aren’t your thing and during discussions do not shame those who do choose to use them.

There will be a new thread for each month.

Kink and Dark/Taboo prompt discussions should be spoilered (or if needed, moved to a new thread

Threads mentioned are on the Push To Pass Discord server. Message me for an invite.

April Challenges collection

April Challenges

Write a ficlet - Under 500 words

Write a mystery – The case of the missing trophy or the finding of a mysterious treasure and discovering where it came from.

5 words – Night, Key, Station, Scar, Cake

Theme – Rain (April Showers) or weather of any type

Events – April Fool’s Day | Fortuna, Festival of Good Luck | Valborg (Sweden) | Solar Eclipse

Random pairings - Graham Rahal/Pato O’Ward | Tony Kanaan/Felix Rosenqvist | Christian Rasmussen/Pietro Fittipaldi

Prompts

A: I told B their ears flush when they lie. C: Why? A: Look. A: Hey B! Do you love us? B, covering their ears: No. C: …

-+-

Hurt/Comfort - Technically awful attempts at comfort are actually very comforting

-+-

Driver A collapses on the podium after a race due to exhaustion. Driver B (best friend? secret lover? secretly in love with A but A doesn’t know?) is at their side even before the med team is.

Kink - Daddy/Mommy Dom

Dark/taboo prompt - Incest

April Birthdays

1 Alex Palou (Aries) 17 Romain Grosjean( Aries)

[phosphorescent-naidheachd]

hey there, i really like your nikolina posts, how's the 'i'll tell you how the sun rose' fic coming along, the few snippets you have posted are interesting

Hi, lovely anon! Sorry for taking a month to reply. Between frantically prepping for Summer Reading at work and struggling to write my Grishaverse Rarepair Exchange ficlet (I had lots of ideas, but none of them wanted to gel into a complete story that fit within the parameters of the prompt), I've barely touched tumblr until now.

Thank you so much for the kind words! "I'll tell you how the sun rose" is about 85% complete at this point. I'm just stuck on a few crucial scenes and connecting some of those scenes together in a satisfactory manner.

Here's another snippet for you:

“Oh, I definitely have ulterior motives,” Nikolai admits, and the way he eyes her makes her pulse race. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, lovely.”

[aiyexayen]

🧍5, 14, 17, 23, 26, 32, 43, 45, 46!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD I NEVER FINISHED THIS EVEN AFTER I GOT YOUR ANSWER ABOUT WHICH [INSERT FIC] YOU WANTED. this was like months ago lmfao i just found it in my drafts. whoops.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic] (Sex Pest)? Answer it now! i can't say i have a specific question i wish people would ask about that one. maybe "how many of zishu's disciples DID drag off their newest shixiong once he was released from the infirmary, and is that who i think it is??" to which i could say "yes😌 it's han ying, and he went off with no less than four of his shidis. he deserves all the love. gentle, worshipful love from his boyfriends who thought he wasn't going to make it. celebratory, joyous love from his boyfriends who are all finally living their dreams at siji shanzhuang with him. they're having a great time tbh."

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer? yes. perhaps obviously, squicks or potential triggers. but also there's a lot of typical tropes or set-ups or even ships that i've given up on finding my particular flavour in for new writers. one of the primary things that comes to mind is actually the whole category of 'getting together' tropes. there was only one bed, fake dating, they were roommates, etc. i'll really only read that kind of story if it's from a friend, trusted writer, or there's something else about the story premise that really hooks me in spite of the trope tag. or if it's a subverted trope in some way. i can like it but i'm ~picky~

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it? i always have a number of extremely specific crossover au's that i'd like to see or write that i think might just be for me. but just like my obscure shl polyships zhou zishu/liu qianqiao/han ying and a-xiang/cao weining/xie'er, i may be surprised and find other people are actually super into it too. like, for current gaming-news-related reasons, my brain's been on a kick of "what if legend of zelda: breath of the wild, but link stumbles upon siji shanzhuang."

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to? so many. uh. i would really like to write a coffee shop au someday just so i can say i have. i'd also really like to write a full longform "what if they swapped fates" au for either cql or shl. i.e. what if lan wangji lost his core and went to the burial mounds and then died for 16 years and wei ying did not do that. or what if wen kexing grew up in siji shanzhuang and headed tianchuang and zhou zishu became gui gu guzhu. that sort of thing.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? i'm a lot better at writing fics that have no dialogue; i have already written ficlets with no dialogue, mostly character study snippets. it might be a fun challenge to write an only-dialogue fic. i can't imagine i could make a very long one, though. if someone prompts me for one someday i'll definitely try it.

32. What’s your ideal fic length to read? depends on my mood and the hook, but i usually like fics in the 1k-15k range best i think? i do like to popcorn-read small ficlets in collections or series or if someone's done a challenge, though. and i also like to find a really nice premise and settle down for a longhaul fic now and again.

43. If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written? i do take prompts. i love prompts. (everyone please send me prompts). there's absolutely no way i could pick a favourite prompt i've gotten or fic i've written to a prompt. even if i eliminated things like prompt week challenges i've decided to participate in or sign-ups for events and i just limited it to, like, prompts sent via tumblr ask, i still couldn't pick a favourite. i've gotten too many good ones.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic? probably everything. i wrote my first fic when i was quite young lmfao. uh. in recent years specifically think my dialogue's gotten better. i think i've gotten better at incorporating sensory details and visual details among the internal thoughts.

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write? i vastly prefer writing on the computer. i type pretty fast and i can get in a flow a lot better when i can actually get my brain to focus. i also feel less claustrophobic about it, i think is the word i want--like the process of writing, to me, involves a lot of trying out strings of words and then backspacing them all and trying again, or switching a few words around in the middle, and then rereading and realising it all belongs two paragraphs earlier, and then reading back through those two paragraphs after the transplant for flow before i can get my brain to move onto the true next sentence and inevitably finding a word i want to change...etc. and doing that on a phone is super difficult and the clicking on and off the touch keyboard and the screen bouncing around and losing track of things more than four lines back at a time and not being able to see the paragraph shapes at least half a page at a time just makes me feel absolutely feral. boxed in. i used to just try to power through it when i had a less functional computer setup but now i'll only write on my phone anymore in a pinch or if it's a really small blurb. for similar reasons i really struggle to write anything by hand. the first time i want to move something around and can't? i can't even look at the page anymore unless i rewrite it all out perfectly on a new page each time and very quickly into the process i just want to burn the whole notebook and end up crying instead. (i'm completely neurotypical idk what you're talking about)

anyway that was probably more information than you cared to know but you did ask sjdlfjskdfk