#*snailwriting

[writingwithsnails]

DAY 02: frostbite • used as bait • “This is hopeless.” Fandom: The Terror (TV show) Summary: Silna is stuck in sick bay and Goodsir makes a half-hearted attempt to shield her from the grim reality some of the men are facing. Soundtrack: None. Content Warning(s): frostbite, amputation.

Silna sat cross-legged in the corner of the sick bay, she picked at the tinned meat one of the men had offered her and she set it aside, unable to look at the mush any longer. She turned her attention to the floorboards and used her index finger to trace the knots and whorls in the wood. English wood from a strange English land. The Surgeon tried to tell her about it, he tripped over his words and mimed things, she understood very little. She didn’t care to learn.

The lanterns flickered and the men went in and out, asking favors of the Surgeon and stealing a look at the stranger. She avoided eye contact with most of them. Occasionally one would approach and present her something, an offering at the altar of the all-seeing goddess. They left trinkets and mementos: a metal ring, an unopened tin of vegetables, an ivory carving. Each man proceeded the same way. He set it down and inched back, holding out a hand as if telling a wounded dog to stay back. He kept his eyes trained on her but she didn’t move. Her face remained blank and, on the occasion, she looked up at them, a hint of curiosity bordering on amusement at these men acting as though she were the one to be feared.

The door squeaked open and a small man shuffled in, he maneuvered under his own power but not toward her. He stood next to the bed, unsure of his next move. The Surgeon coaxed him over, got him to sit down and reveal his problem. The man held out his hand, wrapped in dirty linen, and the Surgeon untangled the mess. Even in the lantern-light she could see what he had come for. The man’s fingers were midnight black. Two other men entered and the Surgeon instructed them on his condition, none of what was about to transpire needed translation. Silna stood to get a better view.

Her movement caught the Surgeon’s eye, his expression softened. Another sign of pity. He picked up a leather bundle, tied with a neat bow, then set it on the bed beside the man who had begun to wipe the tears from his face. The man sat on the stool and placed his arm on the bed.

The Surgeon turned and said something to her. He walked over and said it again. He waited. Then he used his hand and pointed down, making a twirling motion. He waited. He didn’t sigh or shake his head or make an irritated grunt, instead he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently forced her to turn around and face the wall. She glanced over at him and he pointed to the wall. She stood dumb until she felt his eyes disappear and return to man with the charcoal fingers.

The man downed a glass or two. Alcohol, medicine, whatever the contents, he shook his head in disgust. It would be over in an instant. The Surgeon, the only decent man on the ship, would be merciful. Their eyes caught again and she turned her head toward the wall. Silna hated this game. They thought she knew nothing. When she had spoken, the men threw her words overboard. Out of sight, out of mind.

The Surgeon unwrapped the bundle, his deft hand picked up a medium-sized instrument from the set and he wasted no time. Frozen tendons crunched beneath the blade. The bone broke in a swift noise. One down. Silna winced as the blackened end rolled away, it had been severed below the knuckle. The Surgeon started on the second and a deep howl erupted from the man, he thrashed for a brief moment. He grew still by the third. Another snap. Another piece gone. She turned to face the wall. Another howl. She winced.

Everyone released a collective breath. She stared at the wall, bile ate at her throat so she tried to find familiar shapes in the wood. Bear. Ship. Mitten. Silence.

[writingwithsnailsarch]

CHEERFUL OBLIVION • intro • playlist • read on Ao3

a very fucked up far cry 5 fanfic featuring canon-typical violence and trigger warnings along with things like: dubious consent, someone gets a pencil to the neck, you-know-who has a blood kink, Boomer/John smackdown, one scene of self-harm, panic attacks all over the place, and Jacob encourages teenagers to kill people.

CHARACTER TAGS

ARDEN is #The Lamb. JOHN is #The Baptist. JOSEPH is #The Father. JACOB is #The Soldier. FAITH is #The Angel. SIBYLLA is #The Saint. DIMA is #The Strategist. TABITHA is #The Hunter.

RELATIONSHIP TAGS

JOHN x ARDEN is #The Baptist & the Lamb. JOHN x SIBYLLA is #The Baptist & the Saint. JOSEPH x ARDEN is #The Father & the Lamb.

RELATED TAGS

Absolute devotion corrupts absolutely. Violence begets shame and shame begets violence. Grief destroys and the body keeps score. Time is a circle - bending back upon itself. Bible verses.

[stardewsnail]

✩ Misc Stardew Valley appearance hc ✩

- Sebastian and Maru both have freckles

- Alex’s hair is like that because after puberty it suddenly got curly and he still has no idea how to style it so he just gels the shit out of it

- Elliot has a roman nose with a bumped nose bridge

- Elliot is lanky, every part of him is just a little too long he’s built like slenderman

- Nobody ever guesses Harvey’s height correctly because he always holds himself to appear smaller and more friend shaped (something he does just by nature but also because it’s a manner to set his patients at ease)

- Shane is so broad that people often are surprised to hear that he’s under six foot. He’s got a big presence

- Elliot has a few silver hairs in the mix, he thinks they make him look distinguished

- Shane’s nose has been broken before and now sits just a little off

- Penny is perpetually a little sunburned

- Pam draws on her eyebrows because hers are so blonde they’re nearly invisible

- Robin’s hands are covered in little scars from years of using sharp tools.

- A couple of Sam’s fingers are a lil crooked from breaking them skating

- Harvey can’t grow a beard—it’s a goatee or a mustache. He chose the mustache

- Alex has big hands—like almost weirdly big. It was great for gridball

- Haley and Emily only look alike when you see them with their parents and you can map out the features all four share

[hurlingdown]

How’d you know it was me hurly bird? 🥺👉👈

I saw a werewolf Sanji art, it was.. revolutionary in my horny mind. So something about him is still in progress.

But I follow a tumblr called Snailwrites? (I think that’s her name on here) and she had a birthday event. One of them was werewolf Eustass Kid. Holy shit, it was so fucking good. I want a beastly guy to be scared of hurting me so we don’t do anything sexual and everyone thinks he’s a Dom and when he’s half transformed and chained up he flops onto his front, ass up and he’s begging me to put babies in him. PLEASE.

Also Cow hybrids are my guilty pleasure, milking? Yes. Titties? Yes. Little horns and tail? Yes. Stuffing them with little calf babies? I’m hooked!

Garp and Kin’emon have also been on my mind. Older men I want your pussies on my faceeee 😩😩😩

-🐉

I will be back Hurling, I can feel the horny thoughts brewing.

ahh i searched them up but i couldn't find anything!! werewolf eustass kidd though and your DESCRIPTION?? insanely hot.

cow hybrids 👌👌 chef's kiss. name one character that wouldn't fit being turned into a needy heifer in heat, freshly glowing with the want to be bred while shyly hiding their leaking hole with their tail.

fictional character smut already sets up a barrier between unrealistic and realistic sex, but hybrids/monsterfucking is just an entirely different level of sexy unhinged.

[alltheyoungmoons]

Record Shopping

@wolfstarmicrofic | 997 words | Rated T | ATYD Timeline Compliant | CW mention of war (nothing major)

Unintentionally wrote this on a whim yesterday and realised it fit the last two July prompts "Missing Scene" and "Fluff". Wrote this to slot into the 1979/1980s chapters of ATYD and I reference a couple of things from this other incredible short fic by @snailwriter. Song referenced is this.

March 1980 started and ended with a full moon. Remus tried to see the irony of being welcomed into his twenties by a Blue Moon. If that wasn’t an omen of things to come… but then again, he had opted out of taking Divination. 

It had been a gruelling start to the year, but with the news of “Baby Prongs” on the way and the fact that Remus had been relegated to minor duties, he and Sirius had spent more time together without fighting than ever since the beginning of the war.

Remus’ birthday fell on a Monday, so Sirius insisted on going out to celebrate that Sunday, just the two of them. They ended up record shopping in Kensington, pressed shoulder to shoulder while sifting through crates of records in companionable silence. Sirius was often quiet these days.

 He was busy inspecting a copy of Pink Floyd’s The Wall when Sirius called out for him from the new releases section, waving a dark-covered record as to beckon him and grinning like a madman. He snaked his way across the displays, his eyes never leaving him, relishing in how alive he looked, a glint of the incandescent kid he’d once been illuminating his silvery irises.

“What do we have here” Remus mused when Sirius held the vinyl in front of his chest to show off the cover. It was a picture of the band - three men glancing directly at the camera with various expressions and a woman with a mane of ginger curls on her profile. Remus thought that they all sorta looked like they belonged in Slytherin, but didn’t mention it, as not to upset Sirius and as to pretend, even if just for a couple of hours, that they weren’t themselves, that they didn’t know anything about wars and dead relatives and they were just two normal, dumb twenty-somethings in love. Of course this all but lasted five seconds before Sirius, still grinning with his gaze fixed on Remus, flipped the record on the back and pointed to the fourth track with his slender index finger.

Remus had to read the short sentence three times.

“Are you fucking for real?”

“Moony, it’s perfect!”

Remus was stunned. He knew Muggles had some knowledge of magical creatures, from their shared heritage that they shrug off as “folk tales”, but he hadn’t lived between Muggles for so long that it was shocking to see such evidence in the wild, so to speak.

“You better like it because this is your birthday gift.”

“I already chose my three records, actually”

“Well lucky you I’m feeling generous, so I’m getting you a fourth. Even if they do kinda look like pretentious prats, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk” Remus scoffed

“Moony, don’t start calling me names now, or we won't be able to make it back to bed in time.”

Remus went to pick up the copy of The Wall he’d left behind, plus the latest single by Blondie and London Calling, which had come out a few months before. Sirius slipped him some cash and he paid, as the other boy was -still- not very acquainted with muggle currency.

They got home and had takeout from Huang’s, who was kind enough to gift them a couple of beers when he found out it was about to be Remus’ birthday. They sat in the living room, evening into night, listening to music, and as midnight quickly approached, Sirius put on the record he insisted on buying, with that stupid song. It wasn't bad, though a bit to rockabilly for Remus' taste. As the grandfather clock in Flat 7 chimed twelve times, the stereo started thumping a steady rhythm accompanied by strumming chords that sliced through the silence, immediately captivating. After a few riffs, a low voice started drawling out

I was a teenage werewolf Braces on my fangs I was a teenage werewolf And no one even said thanks And no one made me stop!

The two boys froze, exchanging a glance. It was Remus who broke first, melting into a fit of hysterics.

“It’s so stupid!”

“I know! It’s brilliant!” Sirius was wiping his eyes. How long had it been since they were happy tears?

I had a teen-land mind I had to blow my top And under teen full moon No one could make me stop! No one could make me stop!

Sirius slipped from the sofa to snuggle up to Remus, who had lain on the floor catching his breath. He kissed the tip of his nose, gently.

“Happy Birthday, Moons.”

A teenage werewolf Parallel bars A teenage girlfriend Got a lot of scars Somebody please make me stop Ohhh please…

“Would you have fancied me if I had braces on my fangs?” Remus mused jokingly.

Sirius answered with a gravity like his honour depended on it “What kind of- yes? I would’ve probably been gone even more. I like the nerd thing, if you haven’t noticed.”

You know, I have puberty rights And I have puberty wrongs No one understood me All my teeth were so long And no one made me stop!

“You can officially say you were a teenage werewolf, now”

“Yeah, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”

Sirius slapped his arm.

“Oi!”

“What I mean is - we’re not teenagers anymore.”

“Haven’t you had a few months to adjust to the idea already?”

“Calling me old?”

“Never in a derogatory way, my love - I haven’t felt younger than sixty since I was thirteen.”

Sirius went quiet, clouding over. How much of their teenagehood had been lost to the war already? His brother would never live to see his twenties. Their futures, this new decade, were unfolding in front of them, ripe with potential and terrifying like the concrete mystery of a black hole. For now, though, Remus was content with lying on the carpet, his lover in his arms, listening to some weird Muggle band making light of his life’s curse.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: The five times the neighbours wondered what was going on with flat nine + the one time the neighbour knew. OR What were the neighbours thinking during "All the Young Dudes"

Author: @snailwriter

Note from submitter: Ringing the dinner bell for any and all All the Young Dudes fans. This fic absolutely destroyed me in the best way possible, and personally a must read follow up to ATYD 

[earlgreyinpajamas]

hey! i was wondering if you had any more fake relationship merthur fic recs? thanks :)

Till You Make It by JustGettingBy (@snailwriter)

The five times Arthur and Merlin pretended to be together and the one time they got together for real.

~~~

i will not lie, my heart melted at the last bit

2. Let it Grow (Beard and Snow) by Mischel (@magicalmischel)

When Arthur insults Merlin in front of the entire school, Merlin curses him with the most ridiculous-looking moustache. The problem? He doesn't know how to get rid of it. Arthur now has to travel with Merlin back home for the holidays to find the answer in a spellbook, and unfortunately for him -- not only will this include meeting Merlin's mother, but he will also have to pretend to be Merlin's boyfriend.

Written for the Round Table Gift Exchange on the Merlin Fic Book Club server on Discord. Happy Holidays! ❄️⛄

+ ART

~~~

fjsadfjsdakl so cuteeee

3. If It Stands Still Long Enough by arthur_pendragon

What had originally been a plan to get Arthur out of an unwanted marriage devolves into a tug of war between Arthur and his erstwhile intended, with Merlin as the rope.

Or, the one in which Merlin is the most tormented human being ever and Arthur wouldn't see sense if it danced naked in front of him.

~~~

fashjalk one of my favourite fics by one of my favourite writers in the fandom

[flowerparrish]

[Podfic Link] | fic by @snailwriter | Length: 25.5 minutes

ATLA: Sokka/Zuko

Summary:

To commemorate the fourth anniversary of Ba Sing Se’s liberation and his reinstallation on the throne, King Kuei holds a peace summit with a ball to cap it all off. Toph needs Zuko to be her fake-date. Sokka misunderstands.

Podded for lattice_frames for ITPE!

[shujingartschool]

A scene from Honey, You’re Familiar by JustGettingBy ( @snailwriter )

“Zuko!” Sokka calls.

Once again, Zuko’s sinking to his knees in the prison, but for a different reason this time. He presses his hand to his temple and winces—there’s no wound, no cut, no lump. But his head aches all the same. Fireworks of pain explode in his mind.

The world swirls.

The fireworks become real—colour bursts across the sky. And Zuko is warm, but pleasantly so, not overheated and covered in sweat and stuck to his damp underclothes.

“This is beautiful,” a voice says. Zuko wants to turn, wants to look at the source of the voice but his head doesn’t obey.

And, as quickly as it started, the whole scene burns away, curling up in the smoke of Zuko’s mind until only darkness remains.

[rj-anderson]

Does self-editing slow you down as a writer? Of course it does! The question is whether that’s a bad thing. After all, some writing instructors talk as though editing yourself as you draft a story or novel is foolish, wasteful and ultimately self-defeating, a bad habit every writer should strive to break. “Give yourself permission to write crap!” they say. “Don’t look back, don’t second-guess anything, just get those words down as fast as you can or you’ll never finish your story. Write it badly now, so you can write it better later on!” As with most writing advice, there’s at least a few grains of truth here. IF you tend to get so caught up in polishing stuff you’ve already written that you can’t finish anything, that’s a problem. But if you’re the kind of writer who uses self-editing as a way to enhance your pleasure in telling the story, or to reconnect with the last section you wrote, or to give your subconscious time to figure out what comes next, then that effort isn’t necessarily wasted at all. Even if you end up cutting big chunks of the prose you so lovingly polished, it’s not a waste if the time you spent on word-wrangling was actually helping you feel more confident in the story so far, and enabling you make better decisions about the rest of it. In my experience, writers who draft quickly with no self-editing may be great at finishing what they start, but they’re not always going to end up where they need to be right away. They may well have to write two or three radically different drafts to get the basics of their story right, while #snailwriters who creep and grope their way through the first draft may end up with a pretty solid story at the end of it and find the revision process less strenuous for it. In the end, the best process for you as a writer is not the fastest one, but the one that you feel best about. If you don’t enjoy making your words pretty, don’t waste time doing it. But if like me you adore line-editing and feel unhappy about not being allowed to do it, give yourself permission to tweak words and sentence rhythms as you please. No process that results in a finished story is a bad one! https://www.instagram.com/p/CORM9FuLFEu/?igshid=iqpkgczwjeaq

[chaos-company]

Hey! Do you mind explaining the 20 questions prompt a little more? Like they’re just dying while they play?

hi! sorry this took kinda long to get to!

so from what i know from this month's moderator, she said that 20 questions was exactly what you said. maybe the characters are playing it to get the other person's mind off of them dying or something like that. sorry if that was confusing, but yeah it's exactly what you said!

have a good day/night!

[writingwithsnails]

DAY 06: unresponsive • axe • "Of course it was you, I should've known." Fandom: Far Cry 5 Soundtrack: In the Forest Hides a Light by Dan Romer, Sun Bleached Flies by Ethel Cain. Summary: Jem is held captive at John’s ranch and when Nancy comes to visit, they make a decision that will change everything. Content Warning(s): graphic depictions of murder and violence, homophobia, queerphobia, religious trauma and abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of suicide and hanging.

Author's Note: I wrote this a while back as a way to process my thoughts and feelings about a similar situation, then I edited it a bit to jive with the most current version of Deputy Jem (they/them) and to fit the prompts. I didn't proofread much other than to change pronouns because this was written for a previous version of Jem. (Sorry if I missed any.) Any misgendering in Nancy's dialogue can be taken as ignorance on her part.

PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS.

Two knocks echoed through the room and Jem shot out of their seat, turning their back to the desk while they pressed their hands together as if readying for prayer. Their fingers interlocked as the figure entered and closed the door. The dim lamplight highlighted the brown bob that bounced through the corridors of the station, her sparse bangs were frozen in place by copious amounts of hairspray. The older woman wrung her hands, her fingers working at the thin blue veins trailing across the backs. Her once endearing qualities had lost their meaning.

“It’s good to see you, Deputy.”

“I don’t know if I can say the same, Nancy.” But they both smiled anyway. “Does John know you’re here?”

The Deputy inched toward the bed and held out a stiff hand, allowing Nancy to take their spot at the desk and sit on the only throwable piece of furniture in the room. The fox-like taxidermy didn’t count. It wouldn’t make a dent in anyone’s head.

“No. I had to see you for myself…to make sure you’re alright.”

“To reassure yourself?” Jem sat on the edge of the bed then inched up toward the headboard. There wasn’t enough distance between them.

“It wasn’t planned.”

“Well, we almost died… Of course it was you, I should've known." You got fucking lucky with Burke’s stupidity. You got lucky when Earl went along with it. I bet you egged him on, didn’t you? “What would you have done if we hadn’t gotten on that chopper? What if we never had an arrest warrant?”

“I would’ve done what the Father asked of me.” The taste of copper filled their mouth. “He wants what’s best for you. For us. We want you to join us.” “I can’t do that.”

“You’re so dead set against it but you haven’t opened your heart to listen.” Unexpected tears sprung in their eyes. They weaseled their way down their cheeks. They pressed their lips together and, without meaning to, let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t understand why you’re so against us. You would like it here.”

Reaching out toward the nightstand, they picked up the frosted plastic cup and took a sip. Then another. The lump stayed in their throat.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” Nancy scooted a little closer. The Deputy took a deep breath then tilted their head back for a moment, summoning the courage to continue without tearing into Nancy’s flesh and when they spoke again, their tone was softer.

“I grew up in the South. Not the deep south but far enough down there that people who’ve been there for generations have thick accents and everyone goes to church because that’s how things are done. You’ve got the Evangelicals and the Baptists on top, then everyone else. My family went to a little Lutheran or Anglican church, they liked the community more than religion. Sunday school was nice. The messages stuck with me. Animals went two-by-two, love your neighbor, treat others as you wish to be treated, all that.

“And in second grade, we had a new classmate. He was like…like a little golden retriever. A real sweetheart. I knew from the first day we met that he was different. He was a boy who played with dolls and at school he used highlighters to paint his nails. One time– one time he even came to school wearing his sister’s lipgloss. At that age, you don’t understand everything. You know he’s not normal because adults look at him funny. You’re not normal either but you don’t really know it yet, you don’t have the words for it.

“We had a lot of fun that year, and the next and the next, but then he moved to a private Christian school— I’m sure they’d thought he’d gorw out of it — and we drifted apart in middle school. Then one day, I’m twenty-something, sitting in front of the TV while the local news played when suddenly, there’s his family’s house, surrounded by flashing police lights and yellow tape.

“He was dead. Hung himself from a tree in his parents’ backyard while on Christmas break. Everyone knew why. Because he was different. Because he was gay. And every single thing that led up to that moment when he decided to end it, could’ve been prevented. Seeing that fucking obit confirmed it. The way his parents mourned his loss… They never loved him. Not really. You can’t love a child who you can’t accept.” The Deputy laughed through the tears and stole another inch toward the headboard. They held the cup in their left hand while their other hand groped for the bottom of the sheets and the lip of the mattress.

“I watched my friend’s parents stand up at the funeral and ask us to pray for their son’s soul. They didn’t say a word about why or how he died, or the fact that they had something to do with it. The parents said they had no idea. They said they had no idea their son had been bullied and hurt and abused for years. They acted like it was the school’s fault for not telling them about the bullying.

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t, but I don’t think his parents ever once stopped to think who or what the real cause of the pain was. Their abuse was subtle but it wore him down. That school wore him down. They put their queer child in a school that followed a Christ-centered curriculum where abstinence is king, abortion is murder, and homosexuality is a sin.” Their fingers found what they were looking for, it sat between the mattress and the solid oak frame, the sleek woods blending together.

“They followed it all in blind ignorance and kept going and going until it was too late and that’s– that’s the same thing here. You read the book, you go to church, you listen to Joseph, and it’s a circle of confirmation bias. He tells you you’re special and worthy and once you believe it, he asks you to kill your best friend because they won’t fall in line. The Family accepts everyone, of all races and creeds and sexualities but god forbid you try to keep protect your town or your friends or anyone else who doesn’t believe in him.” Jem’s hand slipped and the cup spilled its’ contents all over the bed, momentarily breaking the spell between them. With their empty hands, they wiped the tears from their cheeks and pinched their nose, trying to get the snot cleared without using the hem of their shirt.

“You’ve made a mess.” The maternal chastisement made them blink. Nancy scrambled over, in search of distraction, and placed a hand on her knee. The older woman’s face was void of color. “Let me get you some more.”

“You don’t have to–”

“It’s alright. Really.” She hurried away with the cup. Jem couldn’t catch their breath. They dug their hand down again and found what they’d left, they tightened their fist until their knuckles cracked white and they stood with both hands clasped behind their back.

The tap in the bathroom squeaked to life and covered the sound of her footsteps. They stopped at the edge of the bed. They wiped their nose with the back of their hand and snuffled.

“Oh, sit back down, sweetheart, you look terrible–”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Nancy put a hand on her arm and urged them down onto the corner of the bed. As they held out the cup, the Deputy looked up. Nancy had made her grave weeks ago. Months ago. How long exactly? Too damn long.

They held their breath. The skin on the back of their neck prickled. There was nothing left but to swing.

“I’m sorry, Nancy.” The statement didn’t register. Nancy blinked. Her mouth opened and a soft choking erupted, it grew wet as the blood began to flow. The Deputy released the pencil, the rubber eraser left a circular mark in the pad of their thumb. The cup hit the floor and spilled, only one hand went to her neck and the pencil shifted with her sudden touch. Bright blood forced its way to the surface of her crepe skin. Her forearm hit the floor and she supported herself for a moment before laying down on her side. She grew still as the Deputy trembled and wiped the sweat and blood from their upper lip. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The seconds ticked by. It could’ve been five minutes or five hours. Nancy’s body laid at the foot of the bed. One pant leg was soaked in water. Blood stained her upper left body, from the edge of her jaw down to her waist. The jagged remains of the pencil had fallen out of her grasp. Her own hand had done more damage than the Deputy’s. She should’ve left it alone.

[writingwithsnailsarch]

30 Days, 30 Lines

Day 08 - fanfic freewrite.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John hunch over with a hand to his throat. He slowly descended with his back against the wall until he was seated on the ground. Ragged breaths escaped the little ball in the corner. He pressed his forehead to his knees and he hid his face in the gap between his legs and chest. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry, Father, I’ll be good. I’ll be good.

[stardewsnail]

Can you write head cannons of how the bachelors would react when jealous? Perhaps they heard their farmer was giving gifts to other bachelors. Can be NSFW. K love you byeee

This is a bit inconsistent because of how familiar I am with them/how interesting I thought their reactions would be–some of these are head canons and some of them are drabbles. Somewhere along the way I realized I switched from they/them pronouns to she/her so I guess this is about a fem farmer now lol–hope you enjoy! 

Bachelors get jealous 

MINORS DNI; cw: sexual activity, jealousy, sad boi hours

Shane 

- very different if he’s with the farmer or not bc I feel like he’s used to being envious of others 

- When he sees the farmer bringing Elliot a bottle of wine or Sam a cactus fruit he feels like he has no valid reason to be jealous. He’s just embarrassed and ashamed of his own feelings.  

- Like, obviously the pretty, successful, kind farmer isn’t going to be interested in him? He’s working at the Joja mart and drinking away his money—he’s barely keeping it together and he comes with a kid. Not exactly the biggest catch

- After the cliffs he had come to terms with his crush and is just sort of leaving it because he cannot imagine her reciprocating his growing feelings. That’s fine, he loves having her in his life regardless. He doesn’t have the expectation that they’ll ever return his feelings and that’s okay. He gets a therapist and focuses on getting better for himself and the others in his life

But if they’re together it’s different

- He retreats into himself and has a bit of a mental spiral (ranging from “it was bound to happen eventually” to “oh god our chickens are going to come from a broken home”) 

- Fortunately he has a therapist to work through things with so he’s able to actually express himself to the farmer in a healthy way and receive the emotional validation that the farmer does in fact love them and their chickens will grow up with parents who love each other 

- He’ll pull her onto his lap or against his chest and if the vibe is right the cuddling might turn into a make out session which might get handsy—Shane is extra needy after all this, lingering through the motions. After sex he stays inside her for a minute, just sharing breath and being as close as possible

- Shane alternates being big and little spoon don’t @ me 

I feel like Shane having a therapist pulls a lot of the “drama” out of him being jealous because he’s so focused on developing healthier coping strategies so him talking about his feelings directly is a big step!

...

Sebastian 

Pre relationship

“Motherfucker-!” Sebastian snarled, watching his avatar die yet again. In his headset Sam groaned, quickly meeting a similar fate. Abigail, now left alone, didn’t fare much better. 

“Okay, it’s 4, I’m calling…” A yawn cut through Sam’s words, “….it.” 

Sebastian winced, glancing at the clock, “Damn—yeah. Night, guys.” It was stupid late. He was going to regret this tomorrow. No, actually, he was already regretting it. Now he was just pissed at the game and at—he shoved that thought down, feeling heat rise to his face. He dropped heavily onto the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. His head hurt. 

And he really didn’t want to deal with the bolt of anger that shocked him when he saw Alex throw his arm around the farmer. Her face was lit up with laughter as they shared some joke—the jock had only touched her for a moment and sure, it might not actually mean anything—but he was jealous. And even a solid nine hours of league had done nothing to subdue the feeling that boiled in his chest. It wasn’t even like the farmer didn’t talk to him either—and while she brought everyone little gifts, he’d had the thought that maybe his were special. A foolish, hopeful thought. Alex was outgoing, athletic, and only still lived at home to care for his grandparents. Sebastian was a twenty-four year old college dropout living in his mom’s basement filling his time with gaming. God, he really was a loser. Fortunately he was unconscious before he really had to deal with that. 

… 

Knock, knock, knock

Sebastian groaned, burrowing farther under his pillow. His mom always woke him up when she made breakfast even if he wasn’t actually required to get up. Maybe later he could ask her what she knew about the farmer. He was pretty sure she was still working on upgrading their coop anyway. It wouldn’t be an odd question. He rolled over, trying to relax back down into sleep. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the second knock sounded. If he ignored it, chances are his mom would leave him be. But then she knocked again, a little harder this time. He swore under his breath as he hauled himself out of bed, not bothering to hit the lights before throwing open the door with more force than strictly necessary. 

The farmer’s hand was still raised to knock and she froze, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. 

Sebastian’s entire brain blue-screened. It crashed. It attempted to restart. It failed. It tried again but all that came up was how he must look—an old band t-shirt, unbrushed hair, stubbled chin, frog-print boxers—holy shit he wasn’t even wearing pants.  

“Good morning!” She said, cheeks pink. It certainly wasn’t morning, that much he knew.  Sebastian wished the floor would swallow him right then and there. “Sam said you guys were up late playing games so I brought you this,” she held up the coffee in her other hand, “Robin said I was fine to come down, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, sorry—“ 

“I needed to get up anyway,” he said, a bit too fast. He ran his hand over his hair, trying to judge its state and was quickly dismayed. Fuck, she was pretty. Great impression Sebastian. Great job. 

“Thank you,” he added, finally accepting the warm paper cup. 

“I started growing coffee beans a while ago,” she continued, fidgeting and definitely noticing his lack of pants, “This is the first of it. Let me know how it is, I’m still experimenting with roasting.”

“Oh wow,” he took a sip realizing not only was the coffee delightful, she’d also added cream and just a touch of sugar–exactly how he took it, “This is really good. Thank you.” 

She lit up, “Oh good! I was hoping you’d like it.” She was hoping he’d like it? Him specifically? The caffeine hadn’t hit him yet, but the taste of coffee still got his brain moving. He noticed the fishing pole sticking out of her pack.

“Are you headed to the lake?” he asked, before he could really think it through.

“Yeah–I wanted to do some fishing,” she rocked on her feet, “I’ll let you get back to it–”

Shit, that hadn’t been his intent.

“D’you want company?” he cut her off, flushing when she just looked up at him with a smile.

“That would be really nice–you can tell me about your game. It sounded fun but I didn’t quite understand when Sam was talking about it.” 

“Great,” he said, “I’ll uh…meet you out there?” He still wasn’t wearing pants.

 Dating 

Sebastian trusted his girlfriend. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that seeing her smile and shyly give Elliot a bottle of her mead had shaken the dust off his old companion, jealousy, and now he didn’t know what to do with the itch in his skin.

He’d spent the day working on his bike, music blasting, a scowl etched on his face. At some point Demetrius had come out to say something, but a glance at Sebastian’s face had him simply turning tail back to the house. 

It was better he got it all out of his system before he met up with the farmer at the saloon. 

Some time and a hot shower later he was entering the saloon, wondering if she had beat him there–and she had. 

And Elliot was there, fawning over the farmer who had a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as the writer told some dramatic story, talking with animated hands. 

He was across the bar in a second, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. The lazy grin he gave Elliot was more a challenge than anything–he didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from–Elliot didn’t seem like the type to pull something but there was a primal need to mark his territory. The farmer was his.  

She flashed him a grin, her hand coming to rest in his back pocket, and finished what she was saying. 

“Hey, babe,” she said, pushing to her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I got here early–want to get in some practice before Sam and Abby show up?”

“Need a warm up?” he teased, “Think that will help you beat me?”

“One of these days,” she bumped his hip with her own, “I’m gonna win. Talk to you later, Elliot!” she added. Elliot said something in response before slinking back to where Leah was sitting, watching as if this was her very own reality TV show.

...

Harvey

Harvey wasn’t jealous. The farmer was just a friend–she was kind and generous and liked giving gifts! Most mornings she popped by the clinic to bring him a coffee and chat for a few minutes between appointments. 

It was only natural for her to prefer someone less devoted to their work, younger and more aligned with the pop culture she was familiar with. Sam was a ray of sunshine, and seeing him light up when the farmer had offered him a cactus fruit had sent a spike of something that was not jealousy through his chest. 

He spends all his free time for the next few days pouring over his model planes, completing two kits in record time. Between that and the kids in town catching something nasty and viral, he hadn’t even seen her in a week. Which was fine. 

He hadn’t anticipated her to be waiting right outside the door of the clinic, swinging it open as soon as the lock turned. If he had been any slower, she probably would have hit him with it. Her eyes were piercing as she held out the coffee, a small frown on her face.

“Have you been avoiding me?” her words were blunt and heat rose to his face, hands raised as if that would be enough to convince her of his words. 

“No–no, I just–well–” he swallowed, looking anywhere but her face, “You just seemed busy and like you were spending time with Sam and–” She was giving him this small smile that had his stomach turn to jelly, and now he didn’t know what to do with his hands. She held out the coffee. 

“Want to meet up at the saloon later?”

“Yes!” His reply might have been a bit eager,  but he didn’t care because her face simply lit up. 

“Great, it’s a date.” and then she turned out the door, going on her merry way before he could even process her words. 

...

Alex

- to be honest before they’re dating I think he would just AGGRESSIVELY do push ups where the farmer could see 

- or he’ll make a comment about how hot Haley is looking to the farmer

- Either way he tells Haley about “how well he handled it” and she is so, so tired. 

Alex doesn’t care that the farmer went all the way into the mines to find that special rock for Sebastian. It wasn’t even Sebastian’s birthday or anything, she was just nice and he was not bothered. 

He wasn’t bothered when he was doing push-ups.

He wasn’t bothered when he was squating. 

He wasn’t even bothered while doing his deadlifts. 

And while he showered, he totally wasn’t thinking about how she looked so pleased when she showed him the gem, mentioning that it was Sebastian’s favorite.

Now they were sitting on her bed, watching some movie that he couldn’t quite parse over his churning thoughts. He’d been inching closer and closer without realizing, and now he shifted to rest his head in her lap watching her instead of the movie. 

Immediately her hands found their way to stroke through his hair. She smoothed his brow, and he realized he’d been frowning. 

“What’s up?” she asked, ever perceptive. 

“Nothing,” he replied reflexively, and she paused the movie, waiting for him to continue.

“You…like me, right?” His voice was quiet, and if it wasn’t her he would be too embarrassed to ask such a vulnerable question. 

“I love you, actually.” She said it so casually he took a second to process the confession. Her smile was soft. 

Never one for words over actions, he sat up, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

...

Sam 

- I feel like Sam would try to cover any jealousy with a smile and positive attitude but something about the farmer “doting” on Alex and making him baked salmon really bothered him 

- He asks Shane for advice because that’s his work dad/adult and Shane just looks up at the security camera like it’s the office but does try to give advice because he’s fond of the kid 

- His advice is literally just for Sam to make a move because so help him god if he has to head about the farmers eyes one more time 

...

Elliot 

- He’s in denial that he’s jealous 

- I feel like Elliot’s solution to every emotional problem is writing

- He would probably end up projecting it onto his characters writing a scene where somebody is jealous (because he’s not jealous nope. He’s not jealous at all) 

- He’s a little moodier, a little more sardonic and eventually the farmer asks what’s bugging him–he assures her that it’s just difficulty with his novel

- He doesn’t say he’s jealous nope

- He's just gonna go full Gomez Addams and make love to them in a bit of a frenzy—I’m talking a trail of clothes, fucking her right on his desk.

- He’s leaving hickies, the farmer is being claimed 

- The farmer is being RAVISHED 

- He probably won’t bring it up bc he does trust the farmer completely and knows it’s his own anxiety and the farmer more than reassured him on the reg and he can trust that

...

I’m hiding my dumbass notes waaaaaaay down here

I wrote this while zoinked and made up a whole ass bachelor named Mike and sat there for a good min wondering why I could remember anything about Mike, who the FUCK is Mike????

Am I writing Elliot ravishing the farmer on the desk? Yes, but this reply was getting a little long so it’s coming later

I’ve been a little slow on requests lately, but my spouse is going to be out of town for the next month so I should have a lot more time to working on these :) it brings me such joy every time I get that lil notification, thanks y’all <3

[zukka-fic-recs]

Zukka Fic Rec List - Established Relationship (Part 1)

Breaking The News by JustGettingBy / @snailwriter

Available on Ao3, Teen, Complete, Fluff, Humour / Humor

Wordcount: 5,958

The public become convinced that Zuko and Sokka are enemies and gossip abounds. Lovely fic, well-structured and I like the dialogue. Made me snort!

say you want passion by @dickpuncher420

Available on Ao3, Explicit, Complete, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Trans Zuko, Post-Canon

Wordcount: 7,202

Zuko and Sokka decide to forgo a party to spend some quality time in the bedroom! We all know that this creator is amazing, and that we're blessed to have their creations for this pairing, but I want to squeeze this fic in particular in my hands so tight that my knuckles hurt. This one might just make you sweat. ;)

Hugs Are Food for the Soul by RejectsCanon

Available on Ao3, Gen, Complete, Modern AU, Domestic, Fluff, Pet Names

Wordcount: 1,569

Sokka and Zuko snuggle and it is lovely. Reading this makes me feel like I'm getting a hug myself.

hands, knees, please, tangerine by leapordfringe / @chitsangenthusiast

Available on Ao3, Explicit, Complete, PWP, Post-Canon, Office Sex

Wordcount: 7,936

Very fun banter and hotnesssssss. Excellent writing and characterisation, love the dialogue, and made me smile! Also, introduced me to one of my new favourite songs!

Take My Hand, Take Tonight by CSHFic and VSFic

Available on Ao3, Teen, Complete, Post-War, Fire Nation, H/C, Chronic Pain, Medicinal Drug Use, Ambassador Sokka, H/C

Wordcount: 6,519

Zukka and Sokka share their cultures. I adore everything these authors have written, and this is no exception. For this fic in particular, I love the depth the authors create in this fic, both in the relationships and the world-building.

Put Away Wet by Haicrescendo / @sword-and-stars

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, PWP, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Blow Jobs, Rimming

Wordcount: 3,173

Haicrescendo's titles have a way of making me choke before I even start reading lmao. I'm sure everyone has already read at least a few works from this author, they are widely loved (as they should be), but I would still like to rec them because their work is great and they deserve it! This fic is hot as heck, and also very sweet, which the author balances skilfully (all things in harmony haha) - best of both worlds!

free ourselves of all we learned by inbetweenthestacks

Available on Ao3, Mature, Complete, Secret Relationship, Jealousy, Post-Canon, Ambassador Sokka,

Wordcount: 3,757

Zuko gets jealous at a soirée. ;) Steamy and feelsy.

Golden by alligator_writes / @alligator-writes

Available on Ao3, Teen, Complete, Sokka Finds Out About Zuko's Scar, Sokka Has ADHD, Impled/Referenced Child Abuse, H/C, Modern AU

Wordcount: 2,786

Sokka does Zuko's makeup. Y'all, this one is so heart-warming and I love the writing and the way the author laid out the scenes.

Hands by @kalira

Available on Ao3, Complete, Teen, Alcohol / Drinking, Humour / Humor

Wordcount: 1,685

The GAang are drinking. Suuuch a cute fic, and gave me a good little chuckle haha.

the urge to love you is stronger by thatwasanticlimactic / @that-was-anticlimactic

Available on Ao3, Gen, Complete, Sokka Has Tourette's and ADHD, Preminatory Urge, Post-Canon, Fire Lord Zuko, H/C

Wordcount: 3,113

Sokka has a preminatory urge (a symptom of Tourette's) during a council meeting. Very sweet, lovely h/c. Love this author's work.

[zhahz]

you see, now this would have made an excellent ursa backstory instead of the one in the comics

Avatar AU where everything is the same except that Ursa is a member of the White Lotus and helps deserters leave the Fire Nation