#beshrewed

[lifeinpoetry]

How to bless, how give in return, when the favor is not an object but an unexpected place in the heart? When our beloved are only tamed by things that rot them?

— Caroline Randall Williams, "{Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan for that deep wound it gives my friend and me}," Lucy Negro, Redux

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I'm immediately curious about a fic called 'Utter Depravity'! Can you share a little about that?

Eheheheheh I just answered an ask about this! It's the document where I have all my silly insane little smut ideas.

There is also, however, a very long deleted scene from the Dark Codependent Buddie AU. I've considered sharing it one day in my collection Fractals from the Lightning Bolt, maybe for Halloween this year. I go back and forth on it.

Here's a snippet!

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie croons. He kisses Buck’s neck. “I’ve been so neglectful. You’ve begged so well. I let our poor friend here have all the fun.” Buck moans weakly as he feels the knife slide over his ribs. Through blurry eyes he can watch the blood drip, drip, drip from their victim’s wounds onto the floor as the man sobs. “Don’t worry. These knives are just for you.” Eddie presses his hand to the cut and Buck arches, shakes, pants as fire shoots straight to his cock. “He doesn’t deserve to touch you, he doesn’t deserve to even be touched by the same instruments as you. I only use the best on my sweet boy.” Buck can picture exactly what they look like to their unwilling third: Buck himself stretched out, Eddie’s bloody hand splayed over a cut on his ribs, smearing dark red all over Buck’s pale skin, Buck delicious and heavy-lidded as Eddie curves over him, kissing his neck, looking like a wolf feasting on a still-twitching deer.

It didn't fit the fic, ultimately, and sometimes you gotta kill your darlings that way. But I like what I wrote and so it sits in that document with all the random smut ideas including my four Bermuda additions that I'll be writing.

[eruditetyro]

they don’t know that one of my favorite books as a child was howard pyle’s the merry adventures of robin hood

[backslashdelta]

For the fic writer ask, I'm gonna go with.... 22, 39, and 75 (about It was only a Kiss)! You're awesome!

I am like uhhhh 19 days late answering this SORRY

and THANK YOU for the questions, you're awesome too!!

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

There's nothing that I have any moral objections to writing, so really it just comes down to things that I don't enjoy. For example, you'll probably never catch me writing a soulmate au because I just really don't like the trope. I probably also wouldn't write a bp fic because that's also not really my jam personally. Those are the first two big ones that come to mind, but there are probably more!

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

I don't have much in terms of wips going on at the moment, and I don't want to give too much away about my current wip ahead of time, but here's a tiny lil bit of what's to come from Echoes of You: “You are so full of shit.” Sebastian thinks he probably should care about keeping this civil, because he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t then he won’t be getting a straight answer, but Kurt is infuriating, and he doesn’t think he’s asking for much, he just wants him to admit that this is something.

75. What scene in It Was Only A Kiss took the longest to write? What was difficult about it?

I want to cheat a little bit by saying it's their first time, because I actually ended up not including the scene in the original fic and writing an additional one-shot over a year later. I spent so much time trying to get the scene just right, and for the longest time every time I tried to sit down and write it something just felt wrong. And the scene that went where I had originally wanted to put that chapter would probably be the one that tool me the longest to write in the actual fic itself; chapter 22.

[we-r-robin]

I feel like Duke and Jason would randomly speak in old timey English, and others would have… issues with this.

—

Duke: How now, lad?

Damian: … What?

—

Jason: A pox on thee, sirrah!

Dick: Excuse me?!

—

Duke: Thou art a clamperton!

Steph: Are you insulting me?

—

Jason: Good Morrow, Madam Gordon

Babs: Prithee nay inkhorn terms

Jason: Aye beshrew me

Babs: Thou art a prattler!

[callmebrycelee]

AO3 Needs Standards

So, I was on AO3 looking for something to read before bed. The first story at the top of the 9-1-1 feed is a 25-word B*ddie fic and this is the summary: buck and eddie kiss after killing tommy kinard

I ... am ... cackling.

No shade but I really think AO3 should make their writers take a comprehensive writing assessment. The fact that there are masterpieces written by @beshrew-my-very-heart and @nubianamy sharing the same web real estate as this shite is insulting. My petty ass almost commented on the story and then I realized who I was.

Let the folks be miserable. Let them be stupid. To all of you who are pouring your hearts and souls into your art and posting it to AO3, I hope your creative fount never runs dry.

[alost-traveler]

I let myself dream around you

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Tommy Kinard, Evan "Buck" Buckley, Howie "Chimney" Han, Maddie Buckley, Jee-Yun Buckley Han Additional Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Established Relationship, Day At The Beach, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Tommy Kinard, Tommy Kinard Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Sweet Tommy Kinard, Gay Tommy Kinard, POV Tommy Kinard, Tommy Kinard Calls Evan "Buck" Buckley by Given Name "Evan", Minor Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han, Adorable Jee-Yun Buckley Han

Word count: 3 917

Summary:

After a week of hell, Tommy decides to take matters into his own hands. He knows that Howie and Maddie need some time alone and he knows that Evan needs a distraction on his day off. He decided to plan a beach day so that his boyfriend could spend the day at the beach with his niece.

Part of @911fanworksfestival for @beshrew-my-very-heart

[polaroid-angel]

fish fish are fish you yes fish

"Aroint thee, unholy anon! Thou shall not beshrew us today with thy fishy chanting!"

[an-apowell]

Mohg and Radahn approach Ranni's sealed tower. Mohg seeing other towers: Do you have a tower? Radahn: No, I'm not star-themed enough to get a tower. Ranni! Guess who isn't dead? Mom said to talk with you. Mohg looks around impressed while Radahn looks like he would rather be back in the void: Ranni! Fine, I'm telling Mom! With a fizzling effect, the seal was lifted. Mohg noticed all the clutter of crystals and books. He swiped a tome up and thumbed through the pages. Radahn notices: Hey, how about you stay here while I talk with Ranni? Mohg: Are you sure? You're not going to bully her right? Radahn: No. No. She's my big sister, I can't bully her. Mohg: Alright, I trust you. Radahn stops halfway on the stairs hearing this, closes his eyes briefly, and softens his footsteps. Mohg to himself: Did I say that weird? I should have said I trust your word. Ah, it's fine. After, maybe two minutes, Mohg was startled by a sudden boom that shook the tower, which was followed by a crash on the front steps. Ranni: Beshrew thy quest, thou cur - Ranni turns and meets Mohg's eye. Half her face cracked (which is normal, but Mohg doesn't know that). Ranni: What is wrong with thy brow? Mohg, in disbelief: What is wrong with thy family?! I'm NOT that ugly.

[lancerious]

Scrunkly Week: Day 2

The sky is cascaded in oranges & pinks, the sun desiring its rest. The day is ending, and nature takes center stage. Waves are pushed & pulled by a barely-visible full moon, the tides at their strongest. The sand blows with the wind, allowing the zephyr to carry it away. A more peaceful location had never been witnessed, and Manifesto took full advantage of it.

Manifesto always came to this particular beach at sundown. It was the moment everyone else was leaving, all joyous at the lovely day they had experienced. And Manifesto could have the area all to himself...almost.

This beach...was the one place where Manifesto could have solace, where he could ignore his sorrows & troubles for just a moment. And he could always rely on the comfort of someone else.

Manifesto stood at the edge of a dock, simply observing. He smiled warmly, the scene before him filling him with fervor. He spoke, his words being directed at someone...unseen.

"Ahhh, what a lovely evening...the most wondrous time of day! Is yond right, Roland?"

At first, there is silence. However, eventually a voice does speak. It is wispy, faint. And, above all else...there is no observable origin for it.

"Yes, father...it is indeed."

Manifesto chuckles; simply hearing his son's voice boosted his mood even more.

"The colors art quite quaint...and behold, the traveling lamp reflecting on the water! 'Tis simply perfect!"

There is a pause before Roland's voice is heard.

"Father, may I go out for a swim?"

Manifesto abruptly loses his warm demeanor. His smile fades, eyes now gazing at the vast sea.

"Roland...'tis not safe, thou shall harm yourself...'r worse."

Roland's voice returns, sounding ever so slightly fainter.

"Father, I can do it...you have to trust me. Just for a few minutes?"

Manifesto trembles the tiniest bit, now staring intently at the water, not willing to direct his gaze elsewhere. Roland's voice returns after a VERY long minute.

"...I have to do it, father. To prove to you that I can. I will return soon."

Manifesto's hands clench into fists, lip trembling.

"N...nay! NAY! Receiveth back hither this instant! Thou art too WEAK!!"

Roland's voice comes back a final time, the faintest it's ever been.

"Goodbye, father."

Manifesto is then left alone. He falls to his knees, face in his hands. His entire body is trembling as he weeps there. The waves keep crashing, seagulls keep squawking. And yet, time itself slows to a crawl.

Manifesto eventually looks up, tears still streaming down his face. He stares out at the ocean, raw anger joining his sorrow. His face contorts, showing pure animosity. He raises his hand & curls it into a fist, shaking it vigorously.

"Beshrew thee, ocean! BESHREW THEE!!"

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I read the D&D fic and loved it so much, and I'm going to read it again before I leave a comment. I wanted to let you know that in that last scene, coming up to the end with the Critical Role references, I was half-sure that final line was going to be "How do you want to do this?" xD Seriously, such an amazing fic, thank you for sharing it with us all and for working so hard on it.

LMAOOOOOOO THAT WOULD'VE BEEN HYSTERICAL. I didn't want it to be too overt with the Critical Role references though - so the "roll for initiative" felt more applicable to D&D/tabletop games in general, ha ha. But GOD that would've been funny.

[starpawedart]

Gift for @beshrew-my-very-heart ! 🤓 (Yes I KNOW Kurt would rally for Diet Coke but I was committed to the gray! And I figured he'd approve the aesthetic pop of colour)

[kingofdesert]

Watch a man in times of adversity to discover what kind of man he is; for then at last words of truth are drawn from the depths of his heart, and the mask is torn off. — Titus Lucretius Carus

He was no longer a cohesive machine of blood and bone. By now, even his mind sojourned in planes beyond his existence; clinging to dulcet memories of his egregious mistake. A smile he had never been able to decipher, words uttered against lips, the taste of whisky and cigars, tangled sheets and golden skin, laughter, golden hues and eternal promises, bloodstained wings veiling the night sky… Reality blended with fiction, truth got lost in lies. Anything to keep the mind from shattering as the cracks rapidly spread.

The heart of it struck him in an instant, while chained to a wall, bruised, battered, barely alive. There had never been a mask; he had always been genuine—genuine chaos which he had embraced and wielded as his greatest weapon. Signs and subtle hints were ignored precisely because the darkness inside was real. To deceive his enemies, he had first deceived his allies. Crocodile trusted him even when it went against everything he stood for. He had trusted them both, to make matters even worse.

“Knavish fiend,” the grunt echoed off the walls, pounding in his head with hammer-like strikes. Shallow breaths, neither painful nor pleasurable, trapped his mind in a looped cycle of the events that had transpired. From the first moment their paths had crossed, to the current one where nothing but doom awaited. A sudden jolt of pain left him panting, intensifying the more he dwelt on it. Sweat ran down his cheeks, his teeth clenched, wishing they were biting into flesh—a visceral thought fuelled by rancour, yet so deep and real it confirmed his existence—or what was left of it.

Was there anything left at all?

Broken bones and derisive numbness affirmed there was a perception of sensation, a testimony of one’s physical presence. It was painful to exist in those restless hours. Sleep never came when summoned, and when it did, it was his own mind that kept him awake. Eventually, someone would open the doors of his current prison. That someone was more likely a foe than a friend, yet even then, Crocodile wanted to properly greet them as the quintessence of wrath. He wanted to beshrew their existence, but mostly his. Of that son of a bitch who had brought nothing but destruction with him.

His mouth ran dry, his chest throbbed from the impact of the knife embedded in his heart, and his body quivered vehemently from the sheer surge of emotions. His pride refused to let them escape. His teeth bit into his lower lip to remind him of the physical pain, yet his eyes remained defiant, misting over reality. The image before him was ephemeral, but it was more than enough to break him.

How did it all end up like this?

It was the type of city that drew people toward it. Those seeking very small yet very large miracles, adventurers longing for a new thrill, those hoping for the beginning of a new story, and those wishing for nothing to begin at all. A place to find oneself and a place to lose oneself completely. A place to evolve and a place to be devoured. A place to seek an ordinary life and a place to search for the extraordinary. A place of blinding lights and fastidious darkness. A city of wonders, lies, hopes, troubles, joy, and despair—a symbol of abnormality.

The city’s charisma and double-sided allure were why Crocodile came. It was a chance to start anew, to forget the past and the demons he had left behind, and to create something empyreal. Over ten years had passed since he had made that choice, and over eight since he had started building his underground empire. Baroque Works was a criminal organization, one of many in this city, which owed its rapid growth to its devil fruit users, Crocodile being one of them

No one was certain why people were born with unique abilities, but it was no surprise when governments took an interest. These abilities became a person's most important secret. Once awakened, some kept their powers hidden even from their families. Those who couldn’t were presented with two options: a life as the government's product or a life as a criminal. Interestingly enough, these two factions weren’t at war with each other, even if they sometimes stood in each other's way. They lived in a parasitic symbiosis, constantly feeding off each other. At times they were partners, at others they were enemies. What had become clear early on, much to Crocodile's expectations, was that no one was to be trusted. In an ever-changing city with swarms of ever-changing faces, offering trust meant immediate death.

[9:32] All done, Mr. Zero.

The text message came from his secretary, Miss All Sunday. A short, concise report on the last shipment of weapons to the Ganmi group, just as he was used to. The Ganmi group was a relatively new presence in the city, having appeared two years ago, but they were loyal customers. Calling them a "group" was generous—they were more of a local gang battling other small fries in their neighbourhoods. Normally, he wouldn’t care much about them, but he knew how useful connections could be when most needed. Even if Crocodile never intended to ask for anything in return for his services (other than money), he planned to use the Ganmi group as required. A neutral group with no specific ties to bigger organizations in the city was always useful if a distraction was necessary.

He didn’t respond to the message, merely left it as read. Miss All Sunday was accustomed to his lack of communication through the phone. She knew his paranoia, his habits, and his preferences. She had been by his side for seven years, and despite everything they had been through, Crocodile still believed she would eventually betray him. She was a lot like him, after all, and that was possibly why they made such good partners.

[10:03] Mr. Five’s task?

A hit job requested two weeks ago, another service his organization offered. Depending on the severity and importance of the job, Crocodile would sometimes send his elite officers to the front lines. Each of them excelled in specific areas, and so far, they hadn't performed below his expectations.

[10:05] Being worked on. [10:06] Results will be in in a week.

That was adequate. He preferred clean jobs with no strings attached. Hasty kills brought too many questions; protracted kills erased their significance and meaning. A balance was necessary, and his elite operated according to the balance he dictated. Those under them were sent out for insignificant hits meant only to bring in more money.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He had been in the city long enough to develop a sixth sense for impending trouble. The other organizations had kept a low profile for the past few months, performing their services and patrolling their turfs out of habit, merely keeping up appearances. Even the brats who often got caught up in the city's whirlwind were unusually quiet. Sometimes there were street brawls between gangs; other times, the kids were simply enjoying their youth and school days while they lasted. But they were always loud and noticeable. Even the police weren’t as active, likely in response to the other side’s subdued behavior.

He didn’t like it.

It felt as if everyone was waiting for something. It almost seemed as if the city itself had altered its abnormal lifestyle. Or perhaps it was just about to begin. Crocodile’s hand reached for the tin with cigars and the guillotine cutter. He took a cold taste after cutting the tip, and once satisfied, he lit it evenly, rotating the cigar and taking the first puff of smoke. The mild flavor graced his taste buds, lightheadedness crept up as it always did with tobacco, and for a moment, he was able to relax his nerves and forget about his worries.

“I’ve just arrived at Calm Belt. I’m not in a rush, so take your time.” The man took a seat at the nearby table with his back turned to Crocodile, still engrossed in his conversation. Usually, he didn’t care about the lives of others, and normally, he wouldn’t have paid attention to this man either, if it weren’t for his laughter, which was simply too boisterous for Crocodile’s taste. “So, you lost her again? Fwahahahahahahahaha! I thought you were going together—”

Golden eyes lifted to judge the man behind his back. A fairly tall individual, young, white-haired, tanned skin, dressed in comfortable yet expensive clothing, with a loud, continuous laugh and an aura of arrogance that reminded Crocodile of a certain blond.

As he took another puff of smoke, Crocodile knew his perfect morning had come to an end. The unease he felt had found its source. According to Mr. Three, Doflamingo had returned to Spain to sort out personal matters. He would be back soon. / @umbrx

[backslashdelta]

Thanks to @thnxforknowingme for the tag! I love thinking about all the fics I've written, and I especially love looking at their stats, so this is right up my alley.

Rules: List your "top 10" (or up to 10 if you haven't written that many) fics ranked by kudos on AO3. Are you surprised by what's most popular to your readers? Then, under a cut, provide your ranking of your personal top 10 fics (with explanations if you want!), and then tag a few fellow writers!

Top 10 AO3 fics according to kudos:

It Was Only A Kiss (762 kudos)

Notes of an Old Mistake (155 kudos)

I Want The World To See You'll Be With Me (154 kudos)

You're A Little Less Alone (145 kudos)

Echoes of You (114 kudos)

A Rush of Blood to the Head (96 kudos)

For Your Entertainment (94 kudos)

You Like That? (88 kudos)

The Hazards of Love 1 (82 kudos)

TIED Shut Up and Kiss Me and I Don't Want To Forget How Your Voice Sounds (78 kudos)

First two make sense to me for sure. I haven't written a lot of Puckurt but 2/3 that I have written are here which is neat; I don't think they're particularly special, I think Puckurt fans are maybe just really enthusiastic with kudos? I think there's less Puckurt fic being posted nowadays compared to the other ships I write, so that probably explains it. Very minimal Klaine in this list interestingly, but again, I feel like a lot of that can be attributed to fandom size. Some of these are some of my older fics too, so they've had more time to accumulate kudos. Also notable that 4 are basically just smut, so. Love that for me.

Top 10 AO3 fics according to me:

It Was Only A Kiss

Echoes of You

Don't Say You Miss Me

Forever

Keep It Simple

He Forgets Me, He Forgets Me Not

Notes of an Old Mistake

For Your Entertainment

All To Myself

You Make Me Feel So Young

I've replaced over half of the list, but 3 of those are coming from the He Forgets Me, He Forgets Me Not series, which is a really special and emotional series to me, so I might be a little biased - but it's also the writing that the most real emotion was channelled into, I think, so maybe that comes through and it's not entirely my biases speaking here. The top two stick around though, and the Puckurt fics drop out because I while I do like them I really don't see them as my strongest writing.

I'm going to tag @esperantoauthor @gemsofthegalaxy @beshrew-my-very-heart @20xbetterthanu and anyone else that wants to do this!

[90percentstudios]

Any tips on writing D&Daniel? I wanna do stuff with him but I have some trouble with writing his dialogue sometimes

hehehe, i included slang lists and writing tips in the bts file because of this question so thanks for that! i'm just gonna copy and paste what i'd written for writing daniel (it's like a drop in the bucket in terms of the content of the bts zip so i don't mind handing it out for free). Medieval/Old English themed. Daniel’s the most time consuming character to write, I’ll usually write his dialogue in simple words and then medievalify it. Sometimes that means using this list, but usually it means using a Thesaurus and picking the most flowery language I can think of. Common Words -eth Arcane Anon Art thou Bid Boss Chaotic Evil Critical Dice Doth Dragon Dragonborn Druid Egad Fare thee well Farewell Feat Grammarcy Good Morrow Hail Hath Hither Huzzah Initiative Mayhap Mine Nat 20 Party Perchance Pray tell Pray thee Prithee Quest Saving Throw Shalt Slain Thee Thine Thither Thou Warlock What ho Whence Wizard

Verbs Beshrew Cast Fret Halt

Insults Bedlamite Beetle-boned Bellytimber Beslumbering Boar-pig Buffoon Bug-bear Cad Cattle-thief Cessbucket Chamber Pot Changeling Churlish Clotpole Codpiece Cox-comb Craven Cretinous Crone Crooked-nosed Knave Cur Cut-throat Cutpurse Dandy Demon-sired Demonic Doddering Dog-headed Doltish Doxy Dunce Dunderheaded Dung Dwarfish Fatherless Fiendish Fishmonger Flapdoodle Flee-bitten Flibbertigibbet Fly-splattered Fool-born Foolish Furibund Glos Pautonnier Gluttonous Goatish Goose Gorbellied Granny-garroting Gruesome Gutter-snipe Hapless Harpy Hedge-born Hell-spawned Heretic Hideous Hobgoblin Hog-hearted Hugger-mugger Idiote Idolatrous Ill-bred Ill-natured Inhuman Knave Landless Leech Levereter Lickspittal Loathsome Loutish Low-born Lumpish Maggot-pie Maggoty Malcontent Mandrake Mymmerkin Mannerless Measly Mewling Minnow Miscreant Morrow Motherless Nerdowell Nincompoop Ninny Ninnyhammer Odoriferous Ogre Orc Peasant Peon Pestilent Pitchkettled Pitiful Poor-born Pox-marked Poxridden Preposterous Privy Pustulated Puterelle Raggedy Rapscallion Rascally Roguish Ronyon Scabby Scoundrel Scurvy Simpering Simpleton Skamelar Swinish Toad Tomfool Tosspot Treacherous Trollop Uncouth Unmuzzled Urchin Vagabond Vassal Venomous Vile Village Idiot Wayward Witch Woebegone Worm Wretched

[godslayer-jones]

Mine own jointress is laughing at mine own beshrew i misprise thee all