There should be a fanfic writing game called the showrunners challenge where someone writes a story and partway through someone else can play things like "actor leaves after 4000 more words" or "topic now too politically sensitive due to unforeseen world events" or "lost rights to that reference"
Fill for my Merlin Bingo 2024 adopted square âAliensâ đ
Hello! For context (if you havenât already heard me ramble about this WIP in one Discord server or another), this is the first half of Chapter 1 of a loooong and not remotely complete WIP, hence sharing it here rather than AO3 or FFN. Itâs a modern-with-magic reincarnation fic.
(TW: graphic violence)
Fic summary:
Arthur Rhydderch had spent years trying to âfind his calling,â as his thesis advisor described it. This wasnât quite what I had in mind, the reincarnated Once and Future King thought as he gave his sword a twirl and launched himself at the alien before it could breathe another blistering spurt of flames.
Up-and-coming paleontologist Dr. Merlin Emrys had thought he was adulting quite well; most days, he even managed to avoid getting yelled at by his landlady. Then secrets from his past life resurfaced, and everything fell apart. Facing an impossible choice, Merlin must come to terms with who he was, who he is, andâmost importantlyâwho he wants to become.
Or:
When Albionâs greatest need arrives in the form of an alien invasion, the reincarnated figures of legend must deal with the consequences of their shared past even as they fight for humanityâs future.
Chapter 1 (excerpt):
Arthur was in the library when the world ended. It was barely 10:00 AM on a Tuesday, and it was shaping up to be one of the worst days of his life even before the sky rained fire.
Six hours ago, Arthur had shaken off the claws of a nightmare for the third night in barely a week. Running, always running, with watering eyes and screaming lungs as the soot threatened to choke him. Four hours ago, heâd paused in the middle of his training run through the city to sit on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and watch with bleary eyes as the pale dawn crept up from the horizon, silhouetting Capitol Hill against the clear autumn sky. His t-shirt stuck to his skin as his sweat cooled. Blood and sweat mingling, trickling down his back as he twisted away from vicious claws that slashed his shoulder from behind. The fresh air hadnât banished the phantom tang of acrid smoke, so heâd dragged himself home and attempted to drown the taste with a fourth cup of caustically strong coffee, nearly scalding his tongue in his haste. Burns blistering on his forearms as he gripped the sword hilt with white knuckles while hissing creatures stalked him from the shadows. The shifting shadows had still dogged his thoughts as heâd headed to an early one-to-one meeting with the head coach of his college soccer team.
Three hours ago, his coach had informed him, not unkindly, that he wouldnât be nominating Arthur for the pro soccer draft at the end of the semester, despite Arthur being co-captain and the best on the team. Arthur understood his coachâs reasoning, but it did nothing to ease the sting. The prevailing industry view was that most players peaked in their mid-twenties, and Arthur was already twenty-six. His American uni scholarship had already been his fallback option, a new route to the same professional goal after heâd aged out of Manchester Unitedâs football training academy without a pro contract at twenty-three. Now, the coveted draft slot would go to a younger playerâa domestic player who wouldnât have to deal with visa complexitiesâand Arthur would simply have to find another calling.
Two hours ago, Arthurâs thesis advisorânever particularly interested in Arthurâs athletic goalsâhad inadvertently poured salt in that raw wound by asking, as he did at least once a semester, if Arthur had âfound his callingâ yet.
Arthurâs self-control had slipped, and heâd answered bluntly, âIf itâs a calling, then it needs to make itself heard.â
Dr. Taliesin had simply sighed and said, âSomeday you will know your destiny.â Then heâd asked to see the latest draft of Arthurâs senior thesis and proceeded to spend the remaining twenty minutes of their meeting eviscerating it.
One hour ago, Arthur had clocked in for his work-study shift at the campus library. The students whoâd pulled all-nighters on midterm assignments had all gone to bed or to class by the time Arthur arrived, and it hadnât taken him long to reshelve the trail of reference texts theyâd left in their wake.
Thirty minutes ago, heâd settled at the circulation desk with a stack of books which Dr. Taliesin had just recommended. Arthur had triedâand failedâto concentrate on his thesis research instead of his imploded career plan, even as heâd triedâand failedâto ignore how the silence amplified the harrowing echoes of his nightmares.
Fifteen minutes ago, Arthur had scrubbed a hand over his itchy stubble, regretting that heâd forgotten to shave in his distracted state that morning. His neck had popped audibly in the quiet lobby as heâd stretched and had given up on his thesis research for the moment. Having concluded that he needed to distract himself from anything having to do with his future, heâd pushed aside the heavy books and pulled out the latest reading assignment for his Medieval Lit elective.
One minute ago, Arthur had realized that heâd been staring blankly at the same Middle English paragraph for several minutes. Heâd given up on studying altogether and gathered up his reference books to shelve. When heâd stood, his rolling chair had skittered sideways out of his reach. Heâd been ready to chalk it up to caffeine tremors and jittery nerves when heâd heard the lobbyâs floor-to-ceiling windows rattle.
That was when heâd glanced up and discovered that the world was ending.
He blinkedâonce, twiceâand craned his neck to get a better look. Well, his tired brain amended as it struggled to process the latest milestone in his terrible day, perhaps âendingâ is too strong a word. Maybe just the âstartâ of the apocalypse?
Semantics aside, the sky was raining fire.
The ground shook as each flaming meteorite crashed, one after another after another. One hurtled toward the window, and the prospect of his impending fiery death finally jolted Arthur into action. He dropped the books and dove behind the circulation desk, throwing up an arm to shield his face as the glass shattered and the fireball barreled through.
Over the greedy crackle of flames as a row of study cubicles caught fire, Arthur heard an unnatural hissing. It grated across his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He peeked around the edge of the circulation desk and froze.
Am I dreaming?
From within the smoldering wreckage of the thing that hadnât been a meteorite, a creature emergedâa creature unlike anything Arthur had ever seen. The firelight glinted off its burnished scales as it unfurled leathery wings like a monstrous bird hatching from a cursed egg, like a cassowary made of fire and brimstone. The creature fixed its glowing red eyes on him and uttered a shrieking hiss.
Arthur knew that sound.
So thatâs what they look like, he thought, half-hysterical. He ducked back behind the desk, even though he knew it was too late to hide. The beast had seen him, and just like he knew that horrible cry, he knew that thing would hunt him down. He heard the creature flap once, and then a spurt of flames shot past the edge of the circulation desk where his face had been moments before. The industrial carpet melted.
Arthurâs instincts took over. One. There was no hope of getting out through the burning front entrance, so he scrambled away from the flames and ran the length of the circulation desk, staying low as another fiery blast raced over his head and immolated an oil painting on the wall above him. Two. Just like in his nightmares, he counted, and just like in his nightmares, he had no idea why. He reached the end of the circulation desk and made a run for it across an exposed stretch of the lobby, dodging more fireballsâThree. Four.âas the creature chased him toward the winding, windowless corridors that formed the only route to the back exit.
He skidded into the corridor and ricocheted off the wall as he took the first turn at full speed. Another volley of flames hit the wall just after heâd turned the corner; he felt the heat at his back as he continued his flight. Five. The fire alarm kicked in, and the reverberating noise in the corridors nearly drowned out the creatureâs shrieks and hisses. After several more turns and another near miss with a fireballâSix.âthat left one sleeve of his red hoodie singed, Arthur hit a dead end.
He cursed colorfully under his breath as he realized heâd taken a wrong turn on autopilot; heâd been so focused on dodging fireballs that heâd turned left instead of right at the special collections display case. Heâd reached the central elevatorâs windowless alcove rather than the exit. The elevator was out of service, heâd already passed the nearest stairwell, and he didnât have time to retrace his steps to the turn heâd missed. He heard a crash followed by scuffling as the creatureâthe alien, his brain so helpfully suppliedâslammed into the display case before approaching the final turn. Iâve got thirty seconds at best. Arthur backed away from the sound, wracking his brain for any remaining options. His shoulder bumped into something sharp; he glanced back and saw it was the corner of a wall-mounted display case containing a medieval-style sword from the universityâs eclectic collection of artifacts. On the lower right corner of the plate glass front, a snarky student had added a sticky note that read:
In case of emergency, break glass :)
What have I got to lose? he thought, glancing around. There were no fire extinguishersâIronic, he lamentedânor any other heavy objects in the alcove to break the glass. Out of time and options, he raised his hood for protection like a knightâs coif and shielded his face with his right arm before slamming his left elbow into the glass as hard as he could. It cracked but didnât shatter.
The hissing grew louder. Ignoring the pain in his arm, Arthur struck the case a second time, and then a third.
Razor-sharp shards grazed Arthurâs hoodie as the glass shattered and spilled out onto the floor. As the security alarm blared in concert with the fire alarm, he reached into the case and drew out the sword.
It felt strangely comfortable in his hand. Not quite like the sword in his dreams, but familiar all the same. He gave it a quick twirl with his wrist, then faced the hallway just as the alien appeared.
It stalked toward him on all fours with its folded, bat-like wings curving up from its clawed forefeet; the barbed tips met in a sharp arch over its back like crossed lance poles. Its glowing red eyes were nearly level with Arthurâs as it paused, tilting its large, draconic head side to side on its long neck as though sizing up the sword in Arthurâs hand.
Arthur stood his ground. Not like I have anywhere left to run, he thought as he tightened his grip on the sword. Might as well go out fighting.
The alien hissed, and smoke curled out through its nostrils. It opened its jaw wide and coughed out a sulfurous black cloud. Arthur gagged as his eyes watered. The alien hacked again like a chain smoker, but no flames burst forth.
Arthur saw his window and took it. Just like on the footie pitch, he feinted left, then spun to the right. With a screech, the alien fell for the trick and lunged, leaving its neck vulnerable to Arthurâs attack. Arthur used the momentum of his spin to throw his full weight into his one shot at survival, bringing the blade down squarely on the creatureâs neck.
The steel sliced clean through sinew and bone, and the creatureâs head hit the ground mid-snarl. Arthur dodged the bodyâs writhing death throes and vaulted over the convulsing tail as he raced back down the corridor toward the exit. He slipped more than once on the wet linoleumâthe emergency sprinklers had finally activatedâbefore he stumbled out through the back exit into the deserted alley, soaked and bleeding, still clutching the sword.
Cool survey! Interested to hear the outcomes of the researchâŚ
Fans' attitudes toward AI-generated works
Irissa Cisternino, a PhD candidate of Stony Brook University, is writing their research on topics related to technology, art and fandom. You can participate by filling out a survey and additionally, signing up for an interview. The survey is expected to last until at least the end of April, those, who signed up for the interview, will be contacted later. You need to be at least 18 years old to participate in either, be able to understand and speak English and identify as a fan.
After the completion of the research, it will be accessible as the dissertation of the researcher. If you have further questions, you can contact Irina Cisternino at [email protected] or Lu-Ann Kozlowsky at [email protected].
Above allâmore than power or beauty or life itselfâthe magic of the world required balance in all things. The ebb and flow of the tides, the rhyming couplets in a poem, the two sides of one coin, the moment-by-moment handoff between the past and the future. The Purge and the Prophecy were no different. One could not exist without the other.
It was fitting, then, that the death of the late Queen would spark the blaze, and only the saving of the Future Queen could extinguish it.
writing fanfiction is just. iâm being so creative and original. iâm plagiarizing everyone by accident. iâm a genius. iâm cringe. iâm too angsty. iâm too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesnât matter that itâs not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. iâm seeking validation. iâm projecting my own personal problems onto this story and iâm barely hiding it. i know so many words and iâm using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.
Be Careful What You Wish For by VikingSong
Ship: No ships/gen
Main Characters: Merlin, Arthur
Rating: General audiences
Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Fake Character Death
Major tags: Friendship, Fake character death, Invisibility, Post-magic reveal, Angst with a happy ending
Summary: A story told in a pair of triple drabbles. Part 1: In which Merlin learns to âbe careful what you wish for.â Part 2: In which Arthur makes a wish, too.
oh is the aliens and swords one the one that you were asking about museum practice a while back? I want to hear more about that đ
@sydneysageivashkov Yes, it is! đĽł
(Thank you again for answering my museum questions a while back! I have even more museum questions now if youâre amenable sometime!)
This is the elevator pitch:
Arthur Rhydderch had spent years trying to âfind his calling,â as his thesis advisor described it. This wasnât quite what I had in mind, the reincarnated Once and Future King thought as he gave his sword a twirl and launched himself at the alien before it could breathe another blistering spurt of flames.
Up-and-coming paleontologist Dr. Myrddin âMerlinâ Emrys had thought he was adulting quite well; most days, he even managed to avoid getting yelled at by his landlady. Then secrets from his past life resurfaced, and everything fell apart. Facing an impossible choice, Merlin must come to terms with who he was, who he is, andâmost importantlyâwho he wants to become.
Or: When Albionâs greatest need arrives in the form of an alien invasion, the reincarnated figures of legend must deal with the consequences of their shared past even as they fight for humanityâs future.
Arthur is cornered during the initial invasion in a building that has a collection of artifacts displayed in wall cases, so he breaks the glass (not security glass! just regular plate glass! Thereâs a joke about it later in the story) and pulls out a medieval sword in a âmight as well go out fightingâ mindset, then ends up successfully killing the alien that cornered him.
It quickly becomes apparent that conventional modern weaponry is useless against the aliens. Only authentic medieval swords can kill them.
Arthur finds out that heâs the new King of England, despite having been 28th in line and having always held generally anti-monarchist views. He has to learn on the job how to actually lead/govern because Parliament and the rest of the upper levels of government have been obliterated, too, so all the ministersâ authority has temporarily reverted back to the Crown. He ends up working closely with the staff of an eclectic and widely respected (fictional) museum in London to try to figure out what it is about the swords that makes them effective. If they can figure it out, then everyone will have a better idea of how to fight the aliens effectively. (Spoiler: aliens = pterosaurs = dragons, and their only weakness is steel that is forged in dragonfire.)
Gwen is an expert on medieval weaponry. Elyan doesnât work for the museum, but heâs roped in because his specialty is chemistry/materials science. Paleontologist Merlin joins the party because the aliens bear a striking resemblance to Cretaceous pterosaurs. Freya, the museum staff member responsible for sourcing items for collections (I have questions about this job!), fulfills her Lady of the Lake role by sourcing and distributing swords to the knights. đ Many other canon characters pop up along the way. (You may also remember a snippet about an OC named Mrs. Nettleburn? Sheâs Merlinâs landlady who wears a violently floral housecoat and wields a frying pan during suspected break-ins. đł)
Meanwhile, the characters start getting their first-life memories back sporadically throughout the story, and they have to separate the truth of their incomplete memories from the distortions of the literary legends. Merlin ends up betraying everyone by siding with the dragons based on his distorted interpretation of those incomplete memories. Arthur refuses to give up on the friend he remembers, and Merlin gets an intensive redemption arc.
The story began as a crack prompt, but it has evolved into a crack-treated-very-seriously novel. đ I have about 60k written so farâŚ
Thank you, @sydneysageivashkov , for the tag! â¤ď¸
Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it and/or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Oh goodness that last step is going to be the hardest. đ¤Śââď¸đ
*deep breath* Ok, letâs do this! Original WIPs excluded; this is only the fanfic WIPs. đŹ
Individual WIPs:
1. âThe Prophecyâ
2. âKeep Calm and Let the Admin Assistant Handle Itâ
3. âLearning Curveâ
4. âPromises to Keepâ
5. âReforgedâ (aka âaliens & swordsâ)
6. May Mental Health Month melee fill
7. âA Coin for the Styxâ
8. âQualified (Arthur writes a resume)â
9. âDarkness Like a Second Skinâ
10. âIf You Give a Writer a Bingo Cardâ
11. âAgent Emrysâ
12. âBogged Down in Lies (I Want To Come Clean)â
13. Elyan melee fill
Collab WIPs:
14. Evil Uncle
15. âMutually Assured Destructionâ
16. Knights-Errant band AU
17. âHe Never Expected To Be The One Left Behindâ
18. [title redacted] <- a friendâs fic that Iâm attempting to podfic âşď¸
âŚnow I have to tag 18 people đ
Ok, um, a bunch of lovely people in no particular order:
@trekscribbles @staygold-bebold @fandomsschmandoms @madladyishere @s0mmerspr0ssen @vakarcs @demitimelord42 @leonaesperanza @magiclia16 @moerysworld @diamonds-and-dynamite @midnight-clover @thebiballerina @sincerelyme1297 @skydragon05 @salt-popcorn And of course I canât mention âMutually Assured Destructionâ and not tag @bronteheart and @dorochas đ
At my job, I frequently have to use words that have âentrepreneurâ as their root. I have to consciously think about the spelling Every.SingleTime. đ¤Śââď¸
Hello! I have friends who are considering participating in Elyan Fest 2024 but who do not have Tumblr accounts. Is it sufficient for them to post works to the AO3 collection without doing the additional tag-the-fest-account step on Tumblr? Or is there an alternative way youâd like to be notified when they post a fill to the collection? Thanks for creating this event!
Thanks for your ask!
YES that's absolutely fine!
If they're okay with it and you don't mind, I would love to promote their works for them through the blog! If you could just send the me the links when they post, I'll do the rest.
But also if that's something they're not comfortable with I totally understand! At the end of the event I'll also be individually listing and linking everything that was posted both on ao3 and tumblr on the master list.
And please remind them that the prompts I posted are totally optional! They can write whatever they want.
Please thank them for their interest on my behalf, I look forward to what they create!
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