#fic author asks
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practically-an-x-man Ā· 5 months ago
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OC/Ship Ask Game: Firsts
We're back with another super-long ask game! Send a number + a character/ship for a description of their "first"... plus a couple questions for the author as well :D
If you reblog, please send asks up and down the chain for reblog courtesy! It's not a requirement but it does make things more fun for everybody šŸ˜Š
____
For the Character:
First big aspiration (i.e. what did they want to be when they grew up?)
First time meeting their best friend
First opinion of school as a kid
First time experiencing grief
First time breaking a bone
First time they realized their "calling" in life
First time they experimented with their personal style
First time they took a risk, or the biggest risk they've ever taken
First time living away from home
First time adopting/taking care of a pet
First "big purchase" they ever made on their own
First time leaving their home country
First time being drunk/high
First time facing their fears
First thing they remember feeling proud of
First thing they remembered feeling ashamed of
First favorites - favorite color, animal, movie, etc.
First example of real character growth along their journey
First time they felt rejected by another character
First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character
First major change in their life, and how they dealt with it
First introduction in their story (share a snippet or description)
First display of their powers or abilities
First major loss/failure in their story
First major success in their story
____
For the Ship:
A. First meeting B. First impression of each other C. First physical contact (handshake? hug? something else?) D. First kiss E. First time meeting the other's family F. First date G. First time seeing the other one sick/injured H. First time sharing a bed (non-sexual) I. First time sleeping together (sexual) J. First concert/show/festival they attended together K. First fight L. ....And the first time they had to make up M. First time they introduced the other as their partner N. First road-trip/vacation together O. First double-date with another couple P. First time seeing the other all dressed up Q. First act of non-sexual intimacy (e.g. washing the other's hair, taking a bath together, sharing food) R. First time cooking for the other S. First anniversary + how they celebrated T. First time dancing together U. First pet names/nicknames they give each other V. First time they felt insecure/jealous, and how they worked through it W. First time they realized their relationship is endgame... or isn't X. First major hardship they got through together Y. First time living together Z. First time they said "I love you"
____
For the Author:
šŸ£ - First piece you ever wrote (share a snippet or description)
šŸ„¹ - First time describing strong emotions, and how you've improved since then
šŸŽ¬ - First fandom(s) you wrote for, and if you still write for them
šŸ’€ - First time writing character death, and how you felt about it
šŸ¤ - Favorite "first meeting" scene you've written between two characters
šŸ’‹ - Favorite "first kiss" scene you've written between two characters
šŸ”„ - First time writing romance/spicy scenes, and how you felt about it
šŸŒ - First attempt at worldbuilding, or a notable piece of worldbuilding you're proud of
šŸ‰ - First genre you wrote for, and if you still write that genre now
šŸ–Œļø - First character you created, or first character you wrote for
šŸ¤© - First big inspiration for writing (an author? a piece of media? a plot idea?)
šŸ•·ļø - First time writing something that scared you, and how it went
šŸ“ - Pick a character: first draft of that character + the final version of that character
šŸ³ļøā€šŸŒˆ - First queer character/story you wrote
šŸ¤– - First nonhuman character you wrote
šŸŖ¶ - First longform/multi-chapter piece you've written
āœ’ļø - First shortform/oneshot you've written
šŸŖ¢ - First time writing a crossover or gift fic
šŸ¤Æ - First story that gained traction/attention, and how it made you feel
šŸ“¦ - First story that really took you outside your comfort zone
šŸ“– - Piece you'd recommend as a "first piece" for a new reader to enjoy
ā€¼ļø - Free space! Tell us about a notable "first" in your writing journey!
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kitkatt0430 Ā· 5 months ago
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2 [You Must Live (For Me)], 6, 16 [A Tale of Two Timelines], 20 [Timeline Poker]
2.) What was your favorite scene in You Must Live (For Me)?
It's hard to pick. I definitely love the diner scene at the start where Savitar steal Reverb's dinner. No shame that one, when there's free food at stake. But... I think my favorite scene is when Reverb has his vibe about Savitar potentially hesitating too much to kill Iris.
Savitar shows up right after the vibe ends and Reverb immediately confronts Savitar about still being in love with Iris and how when the time comes Savitar had damn well better choose his own life over hers. And then kisses Savitar because Reverb has zero chill. It's when the whole dynamic of their relationship changes and, really, the whole first half of the fic is leading up to that moment.
6.) Who is the easiest character to write?
i answered that one here
16.) Talk about something you like in A Tale of Two Timelines
I really liked how frank I had Barry be with Iris about the timeline he came from. Including how poorly he handled things with Eddie. (And him having a crush on Eddie, because I cannot help but slide in a little Westhallen even when Eddie's not there.)
I'd wanted him to be honest, of course. Iris needed that to counter Eobard's lies. But it also became a counterpoint to Barry's S1 behavior and a demonstration of how much he's grown as a person since then, becoming better at taking responsibility for his mistakes and at treating Iris as his equal.
Iris can't help but be touched by Barry's words because his love and respect for her is so clear. He sees her in a way that, in this timeline, I don't think she's used to.
20.) If you had to change the main pairing in Timeline Poker what would you change it to? How do you think that would effect the story?Ā 
I think if I were to change the main pairing for Timeline Poker, it'd be from Thallen to Westhallen. Which would, of course, disrupt the Cisco/Iris secondary pairing, but would give more chances for parallels with the Farooq/Daria/Jake ship. Especially if i ever finally get started on the sequel fic.
But in the fic itself, the whole setup at the start would have changed, with Iris questioning her decision to reject Barry's feelings in December. It'd set a different direction for the fic really - while it'd still have the main points of the blackouts leading to the discovery of Farooq, all the relationship beats would have to change entirely.
I think Iris would feel jealous that Barry and Eddie are interested in each other and would be deliberately third wheeling as a result, only for Barry to be confused by her attention and Eddie to find he rather gets why Barry likes Iris while Iris starts to gain feelings for Eddie too. It'd probably be realizing that Farooq, Jake, and Daria are in a polyamorous relationship for the three of them to realize that maybe they could have that with each other too.
Eobard would still be flipping out at the end over Eddie kissing Barry. He'd just also be flipping out over Eddie kissing Iris, too.
Poor Cisco, though. No cute girlfriend for him with this change. Still, he gets to have some new besties in his life so he's still happy.
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amloveabledeathmo Ā· 9 months ago
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1 and 4 of the fic asks :)
1. What part of the writing process is the most enjoyable?
Building up a story from a small idea. It's so delightful when things start falling in place. I'm always excited when a lovely scene that I would not have thought of before I started writing the fic shows up.
4. Which comment has had the most impact on your writing?
This was the very first comment I got on a fic I shared publicly.
bahahahhahahhahaaa! :3333333 Never come between a Hobbit and his interest, be it food or hugs. I can just see Thorin being all determined to tell Bilbo no, but gets all flustered when Bilbo is actually standing in front of him, and ends up saying yes. Thank you for writing and sharing!
I had posted a few other short stories and was getting a bit discouraged about posting and then received the above comment on OUR Home?!
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foxy-voxy Ā· 2 years ago
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šŸŽ€give yourself a compliment about your own writing
Um.
I think I do very well with characterization.
(that was hard, I am not good at giving myself compliments)
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tourettesdog Ā· 1 month ago
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I am begging people to be normal about completed fics, and in particular one shots.
I am begging people to stop demanding more from authors, and insisting that one shots need to be longer or have sequels.
I don't think yall understand how many fanfic authors are one more "where's the rest of it?" comment away from throwing out any plans they might have had to continue an idea.
Unless an author like specifically says they might write more for an idea, just-- assume something marked as completed is complete, and respect it as it stands, please.
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frownyalfred Ā· 9 months ago
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ā€œWhy are you bullying Hal Jordan so much in this fic?ā€ Because itā€™s funny. Because itā€™s funny and heā€™s not a real person.
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shushmal Ā· 7 months ago
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"Are you going to break my heart?"
Eddie almost drives them off the road.
It's late, nearly 2 am, and the country road is narrow and winding, and this thing between them, fingers twinned above the gear shift, radio turned down low, Stevie Nicks singing to them softly, is new. Eddie wants to live in this moment forever, wants the smell of lake water and dying August heat to live in their clothes, wants the warmth of first kisses and whispered confessions to last in tingling sparks in their skin, the memory of touch to be permanent. It won't be, it'll all fade, but Eddie can visit it again, rewrite them into the cotton and the softness of Steve's mouth.
It's late, and this is new.
"It's okay if you do," Steve says, so quiet. He's holding on to Eddie's hand like he's dangling off a cliff. "I can handle it. I'd just like a heads up, so I can prepare."
Eddie almost feels guilty, basking in his joy when Steve was sinking into something else. He thinks, if he were a kid still, if he hadn't died, hadn't lost everything and managed to get it all back, he'd be angry. But he's not. He's not, and he did, and it's late and this is newā€”but it's not unfamiliar. The same, but more, an extra free scoop with whipped cream and sprinkles, a cherry on top.
"You trust me?" Eddie asks. He rubs his thumb along Steve's knuckles, feels the scars under his skin, little tears in someone so perfect.
"Of course," Steve croaks. Eddie can't look at him, because the road is dark and narrow and winding, and he has to get his boy home safe.
"And I trust you," Eddie says, brings Steve's hand up, presses a kiss like a seal to his skin. "And I love you, and you love me. I got you."
Steve's quiet for a long, long moment. Eddie can tell he's watching him, so he presses another kiss to Steve's hand, lets his lips linger on hard tendons and dark veins. Kisses in his promises to the place they're linked together.
When he speaks again, it's soft, and Eddie can hear the love, living and leaving in the air between Steve's teeth.
"Okay," he says, giving Eddie everything. "You got me."
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daydreamerwonderkid Ā· 7 months ago
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"Another AO3 author with too much time on his hands"
Where the fics at?
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drenched-in-sunlight Ā· 3 months ago
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saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and thatā€™s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. Iā€™m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because itā€™s not.
Iā€™ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. Iā€™ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.
Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesnā€™t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? Iā€™m a fan artist, Iā€™m the last person who you should look at for ā€œleaderismā€ (?) WHAT?
I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because Iā€™m already a dramatic ass on twitter), thatā€™s just not me though.
You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.
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#asking ppl to [celebrate different takes] is... WHAT?#different takes as in well I think she likes apples and you think she likes grapes. yeah thatā€™s some fun discussion to be have#but different takes as in the fundamental of a characterā€™s drive and personality??? NO#letā€™s put that down very clear here#I can still read fics where Marika is cold and calculate and manipulative as long as I can see thereā€™re layers to it and the author#set it up in a way that I can see they got her backstory and build those layers based on that#and then there are ppl who literally only portray her as omg evil girlboss 101 letā€™s blame everything on this cardboard character#then I click back.#and there r ppl who might not vibe with how i portray her and they can ignore me. THAT'S OK TOO. we r in our own space.#itā€™s as simple as that!#ever since the dlc is out i literally could see the amount of ppl blocking me go up and im just ā€œokā€ because i do go around muting ppl too.#that's normal fandom space managing experience. pls do that#lore discussion is for ppl to engage in so u say ur piece i say mine and we can continue or not depending on situation#but FANWORK? leave each other alone or be a hater in ur own space ok?#personal#also where are these ppl who have been defending Marika at... because if u exclude me#and some others i can count on one hand. where are these ppl?#ppl saying headass stuffs about the HS aren't even Marika fans or engage too much in fandom to begin with#meanwhile u can't even find one youtube lore essay that says anything good about her#ppl are even trying to give Messmer's mother position to GEQ for no goddamn reason#like where is this overwhelming support for Marika at cuz as the active Marika stan around im not seeing it
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landwriter Ā· 8 months ago
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Hi! I hope you feel better soon!
This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but Iā€™d love to see what you come up with for it!
Alternative prompt from me if that doesnā€™t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women šŸ˜­
Thank you! I saw ā€˜landlordā€™ and ā€˜decadesā€™ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.
The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.
---
Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.
The small room above the pub and below his flat wasnā€™t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So heā€™d left it as more or less an abandoned room.
When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didnā€™t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. Heā€™d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if theyā€™d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.
Heā€™d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, heā€™d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didnā€™t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.
Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.
ā€œI cannot believe you broke the mirror.ā€
ā€œI was in a rush! Itā€™s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.ā€
ā€œI hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.ā€
Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.
Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didnā€™t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldnā€™t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.
ā€œHello, boys.ā€ That caught their attention. Hob grinned. ā€œSeems weā€™re neighbours.ā€
---
Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.
Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.
ā€œHeā€™s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.ā€
ā€œYou said those exact words in ā€˜94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.ā€
Before you decide to adopt him too.
Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldnā€™t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.
ā€œDo you think heā€™s really immortal? Mateā€™s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.ā€ Charles lit up. ā€œDo you reckon heā€™d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think heā€™s a cricket fan?ā€
It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. ā€œWell, Charles, shall we go talk to him?ā€
---
When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. Heā€™d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.
Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.
Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until heā€™s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.
He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.
The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?
Hobā€™s heart twinged. He knew they werenā€™t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didnā€™t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didnā€™t change that theyā€™d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadnā€™t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.
So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.
---
A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, heā€™d nearly put his head in his hands.
ā€œIt can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.ā€
Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed ā€œSee? I told you.ā€
Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.
ā€œManners, Charles,ā€ replied Edwin loftily. ā€œWe will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.ā€
ā€œYouā€™ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what youā€™ll do,ā€ said Hob.
Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. Heā€™d told the story wrong for plausibilityā€™s sake so many times he had been worried heā€™d forget the truth of it one day.
They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ā€˜really fitā€™ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.
ā€œNo, mate, I still donā€™t get it.ā€ Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldnā€™t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, ā€œWhy donā€™t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?ā€
Hob sighed. ā€œAdults are often busy, Charles.ā€ Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. Heā€™d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.
Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. ā€œOoh, low blow. Weā€™re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.ā€
ā€œReally,ā€ said Hob. ā€œYouā€™re busy. Right now.ā€
Charles waggled his eyebrows.
ā€œCharles, I am not a case,ā€ said Hob, sternly as possible. ā€œIā€™m not even a ghost. Heā€™s not a ghost. No ghosts.ā€
ā€œWe could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?ā€
Hob bit his lip against shouting I donā€™t know! I donā€™t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. ā€œHeā€™s very private.ā€
Charles scowled. ā€œYeah, obviously. You donā€™t even know his name. He canā€™t be that good of a friend if heā€™s too busy to see you more than once a century.ā€
Hob couldnā€™t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charlesā€™ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-upā€™s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when youā€™d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.
ā€œSorry,ā€ said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.
ā€œItā€™s alright,ā€ said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasnā€™t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hobā€™s example. ā€œI donā€™t think he would say heā€™s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, Iā€™d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, Iā€™ll have to ask.ā€
ā€œMates always make up,ā€ said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.
ā€œI suppose they do.ā€ Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. ā€œHey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.ā€
Charles beamed at him. ā€œAlways. Weā€™ve got your back, me and Edwin.ā€
---
Charles couldnā€™t bloody believe it. Hobā€™s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.
He couldnā€™t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure thatā€™s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.
ā€œCharles, we really ought not eavesdrop,ā€ hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldnā€™t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldnā€™t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody heā€™d rather hide from Death with.
Hobā€™s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hobā€™s.
Their cheeks both looked wet.
Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldnā€™t.
ā€œThey must be great friends,ā€ said Edwin softly.
ā€œYeah,ā€ he managed to croak. We wonā€™t ever need to have a reunion like this because Iā€™m never going to lose you, mate. I wonā€™t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwinā€™s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didnā€™t have to make his voice work after all.
Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hobā€™s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.
---
It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but itā€™s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.
I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please donā€™t go away from me again, and I could not.
And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.
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saixria Ā· 20 days ago
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Drew this inspired by this fic I read GO CHECK IT OUT šŸ«µšŸ«µšŸ«µ TRUST ME ATHENA FANS WILL LOVE IT https://archiveofourown.org/works/60785476
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rs-hawk Ā· 3 months ago
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Sorry for the delay in Day Four! Iā€™ll be posting Day Five soon as well. Also, I only have one more spot for the BATB Week since I still have one ask in my box, so if you want yours done, hurry and submit it!
CW: this post contains graphic depictions and smut. This is intended for an 18+ audience. Knotting, excessive cum, talks of pregnancy, etc
After Beast drug his cock in and out of his pretty captiveā€™s cunt, he was pulsing and throbbing, so close to bursting. She was hiccuping as fat tears of overstimulation poured down her face. For a moment, he just watched her whine and cry, her cunt stretched around just the tip of his cock. Her lower lip quivered as she looked up at him, her dark eyes glistening with the wet tears there.
ā€œA-are you not going to knot me?ā€ her voice came out as a whisper, her throat tight. She had never felt so full in her life. Part of her wanted it to never end, and if he knotted her, at least that would delay it.
He smirked, lowering his mouth to her face, his large tongue licking up her face to taste her tears, before asking, ā€œdo you want me to?ā€
All she could do was nod, and in seconds, he had stuffed himself back into her warm hole, his knot forcing its way inside. She grabbed onto his arms, the fur somewhat comforting as she tried not to cry out. He grunted as his knot finally popped inside of her, his cum filling her to the point that her stomach slightly extended.
To her surprise, he kissed her. His sharp teeth grazing her lips and cheeks as his lips consumed hers. He no longer tasted of her, instead he tasted of his own desire. The smell of his sweat and fur overwhelmed her just as his lips and tongue did. She arched her back slightly, her fingers now tangled in the fur of his neck. He was trying to be gentle. She could tell. His lips worked over hers with cautious care, and his tongue barely explored her mouth this time.
After the kiss, he picked her up, still stuck on his knot. He sat in the chair, holding her in his lap. A hiss escaped her lips as she was forced down on his knot, her eyes squeezing shut at the fullness. If she had thought he was stuffing her before, then this was him setting her close to bursting. However, he drew her against him, wrapping his large arms around her small frame.
With a smile, she buried her face in his fur, soothed by the warmth of his fur and body. Just as she was starting to doze off, his knot had gone down enough for him to pull out of her. She assumed he would be satisfied, or at least tired, but instead she realized quickly he was grinding his once again fully hard cock against her clit.
When she whined, fidgeting in his lap, it was like a switch in him flipped.
Before she knew it, she was on her hands and knees, his long claws holding her hips up as he was lining his cock up with her cum filled hole. Just as she found her voice, he bottomed out inside of her roughly, forcing his entire length into her.
He was like an animal, which she supposed he sort of was. He dropped to all fours, supporting his weight on his palms which were slammed onto the wooden floors on either side of her face. The creaking of the floors could barely be heard over the sound of his knot slamming against her lewd cunt with every thrust.
All she could do was moan and push back against him, though even that she barely could. He was fucking the air out of her with how fast he was going, and in this position, it felt like his tip was reaching her lungs. His back claws were scraping the floor as adjusted his footing to be able to slam himself inside of her faster.
As her tight walls pulsed around his cock, signaling she was once again close to cumming, he roared. That was all it took for her to cum on his cock again. This time it was so intense that it nearly locked poor Beast in place, his captiveā€™s precious cunt trying so hard to milk his massive cock, drawing his cum deeper into her.
ā€œThatā€™s my girl. Mine. Mine,ā€ he growled, snapping his teeth close to her ear. ā€œIā€™m going to fuck this cunt until you canā€™t walk. Youā€™re mine. Thatā€™s why youā€™re here.ā€
ā€œI know. I know,ā€ she babbled in agreement, limply reaching for his hands as she came down from her high.
ā€œTell me you love it. Ask me to fill you with my seed again,ā€ he demanded, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
ā€œI love it. I love it so much. Please knot me. I need you to cum inside of me again,ā€ Belle begged, pushing back more against his cock now.
Beast snarled something she couldnā€™t hear, but in seconds, he was giving her what she wanted. Forcing his knot inside of her again, the tip of his cock buried against her cervix to dump his seed inside of her again.
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kitkatt0430 Ā· 5 months ago
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for fanfic ask game
16 Talk about something you like in Poking the Poodle (And Other Ridiculous Tv Tropes)
and 15 ā¬‡ Was an awesome scene, tell me more about writing it!
ā€œTh-theyā€™re not under arrest,ā€ the dazed beat cop insists, still holding his coffee and danish at arms length. ā€œTheyā€¦ theyā€™re witnesses. Toā€¦ a crime.ā€ ā€œCorrection,ā€ Mick speaks up. ā€œLenā€™s a witness. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and I wish to god I hadnā€™t gotten up this morning. But this is basically a train wreck in the making and I canā€™t stop watching. Anyone else want a coffee?ā€ Heā€™d gotten four. One for himself, one for Len, one for the poor beat cop, and one to taunt the officers and detectives in the station with.
andĀ 
Julian snatched up the fourth coffee and settled beside Rory on the bench while Barry and Leonard Snart flirted in stairwell. No one was even batting an eye anymore. ā€œItā€™s like watching two different birds doing wildly different mating dances for each other, each unaware the other is trying to court them.ā€ Julian paused a beat and then added, ā€œhas Snart given up pretending heā€™s not specifically here to flirt with Allen yet?ā€ ā€œNot yet. I wasnā€™t even paying attention to todayā€™s excuse. Danish?ā€ ā€œThanks.ā€
(it was one of the first fics I read in the fandom and I love it with all my soul and I kinda forget (all the time) that you wrote it. and every time i reread i look at the author and have this ā€˜ah. make senseā€™ moment)
16.) Talk about something you like in Poking the Poodle (And Other Ridiculous Tv Tropes).
Oh gosh, this was such a fun fic to write and is definitely the silliest ColdFlash fic I've written. I think it's the first time I wrote from Mick's point of view as the long-suffering bestie putting up with Len's need to be overly dramatic, though it's definitely become a thing with me. There's just something so much fun about viewing Len and Barry's oblivious pining from the point of view of someone who'd like them to get a move on already. And as I tend to view Mick as being arospec and I'm aro, it can be fun to project my exasperation with certain romantic tropes onto him.
Having Mick be just done with their antics has popped up in various fics since then, but sadly his weird friendship with Julian hasn't and that's something I really wound up enjoying about this fic. I really need to revisit that friendship again some day.
15.) Was an awesome scene, tell me more about writing it!
For that first scene, i definitely didn't want Len to be the only one having any fun. Mick might be deadpan about it, but he's having a blast really. He figured the cops would be suspicious of any food and drink he offered them... so of course he's offering them.
His line in there - I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and I wish to god I hadnā€™t gotten up this morning. - is actually inspired by Sgt Shultz of Hogan's Heroes fame. He had a lot of variations of 'I see nothing, I hear/know nothing' in response to the shenanigans the prisoners he was supposed to be guarding would get up to.
youtube
I grew up on this show because it was a favorite of my dad's but the comedy is really spot on. It's definitely formative of my sense of humor.
As for the second scene, I realized as I was going that it'd make a lot of sense for Julian and Mick to wind up getting along. They're both getting front row seats to the Len&Barry show, whether they like it or not. Some things cannot help but to be the events from which weird friendships are born. :D
The birds doing wildly different mating dances line was actually inspired in part by some videos that were going around tumblr at the time of some funny bird mating dances. But also the tendency in the fandom to joke about Len 'peacocking' for Barry. (There is a fic out there where Len literally gets a peacock tail and it's hilarious.) And of course Barry shows off for Len too, in his own nerdy way.
By now the taunting gifts of coffee and food meant to tease the CCPD for Mick's amusement have become something he shares with Julian out of genuine friendship, which was a fun transition. They're gonna be seated together at the wedding whenever it happens. I imagine Julian'll get along surprisingly well with any other Legends there.
I'm so glad you like this fic so much, it's definitely one of my favorites, especially out of all the ColdFlash fics I've written.
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its-all-papaya Ā· 3 months ago
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about the kiss prompts. I'd love to read about landoscar for 5 *and* 6 - a kiss where it hurts and where it doesn't hurt. I think that would go amazing together. I was thinking about the emotional kind of hurt but please do whatever feels right :)
heyyyyy this is like. not the emotional kind of hurt. but i saw everybody writing kid fic landoscar on the feed and i had to join in or die, so have 1.5k of fluffy, sappy singledad!lando.
send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss
5. where it hurts & 6. where it doesn't hurt | landoscar | 1.5k
Landoā€™s been in love with Oscar for months already the first time he hears ā€œI love you.ā€
Itā€™s the kind of late-summer hot that burns off in the early evening, leaving you shivering and wondering when it started. Landoā€™s in the kitchen at his sisterā€™s place, elbow deep in dishwater, as him mum prattles on about the very expensive wedding of the daughter of a neighbor Lando doesnā€™t remember from his childhood home.
ā€œPersonalized, engraved wine glasses,ā€ sheā€™s saying as he hands off another plate heā€™s rescued from the murky bottom of the sink so she can dry it. The window in front of them is thrown open so they can keep an eye on the backyard, where the rest of the family is nursing the last of the drinks theyā€™d opened with dinner. Tied off to the fence posts, Landoā€™s nieceā€™s birthday balloons float gently with the breeze that carries the sounds of a half-dozen conversations in for them to gather pieces of. If he listens hard enough, Lando can pick out his favorite accent from among them, several ticks off from the rest of the crowdā€™s English. Itā€™s warm in Landoā€™s chest, the way Oscar has settled so easily today. He hadnā€™t been worried, but itā€™s the first time Landoā€™s brought him around to a whole family event like this ā€“ all three of them, Lando, Oscar and Emma ā€“ and everything has gone so remarkably smoothly.
ā€œInsane, isnā€™t it?ā€ His mum asks, drawing Landoā€™s attention back to the kitchen.
ā€œExtravagant,ā€ Lando agrees to appease her. Heā€™s only halfway through sponging off the next handful of silverware when his focus is snatched right back up by the familiar, gut-tug sound of his daughter crying.
ā€œShit,ā€ he says then as he scans the backyard through the screen to seek her out among his various relatives. It figures that sheā€™d be fine all day while Lando was around, and the minute heā€™d ducked in to help with the washing, sheā€™d find her way to trouble. His mumā€™s already handed off her dish towel for Lando to dry his palms with and heā€™s half-turned towards the door, cutlery abandoned back to the suds, when he finally spots Emma. Sheā€™s just reached three feet (on the small side for three-years-and-a-few-months old, but that was always going to happen with the genes Landoā€™d given her), so itā€™s mainly her curly head he can see as she runs back from the swings towards the patio, where the adults are all gathered.
ā€œGonna-ā€ Lando hooks a thumb over his shoulder for his mumā€™s benefit, eyes still trained on his girl. Emma hits the group and skips right past the lost look heā€™d been expecting when she realized he wasnā€™t there, though, skips right over missing Lando and straight ahead to-
ā€œOscar,ā€ she whines, arms outstretched and voice high like it gets when sheā€™s upset. Lando watches from the kitchen as his boyfriend kicks off the wall to kneel next to her. Heā€™s got half a beer still in one hand, but the other goes to Emmaā€™s back as she falls into his shoulder. Landoā€™s heart feels racing and stopped all at the same time as he watches Oscar murmur to her, too low for him to hear across the garden.
It's a minute before sheā€™s coaxed back up out of his chest. Her face is still red and teary, nose twitching, but she offers her hands out when Oscar asks for them. Landoā€™s stopped moving completely, frozen with the dish towel wrapped between his fingers.
ā€œCan I see?ā€ he picks up from the distance. Oscar smooths his thumb into the middle of Emmaā€™s hand until she flexes her fingers out for him, displaying palms full of grass bits.
ā€œFell,ā€ she gets out between little hiccupping sobs. Oscar sets his drink aside so he can tug her closer without letting go of her hand.
ā€œWell, thatā€™s no good. Can I help?ā€ he asks and itā€™s soft, itā€™s tender, it makes Lando himself want to cry for an entirely different reason.
She nods. Her head falls sideways, back onto Oscarā€™s shoulder, as he brushes the dirt and grass away. Then he purses his lip to blow the last of the dust off and smacks a kiss right in the center of her hand, playing it up loud enough to make Emma smile about it through the last of her tears.
ā€œOscar!ā€ she says again, all giggles this time. Landoā€™s heard Oscar laugh about the way Lando pronounces his name, but itā€™s only when Emma says it, his own accent in miniature, that he sees what there is to grin about. She seems to be mostly cured of the panic, but in the next moment Oscar scoops her up anyway, settling her on his hip and checking that sheā€™s chilled out as he returns to his conversation. Everything keeps moving around them.
ā€œSo,ā€ Landoā€™s mum says. He jumps a little, having forgotten where he was.
ā€œUm.ā€ Lando says back. Sheā€™s smiling like a maniac at the side of his head. ā€œIā€™m gonna-ā€ he repeats, same thumb motion as a minute ago. He departs for real this time, though, depositing the towel back in her hands as he goes.
ā€œHey,ā€ he breathes out when heā€™s reached Oscarā€™s corner of the patio. Heā€™s not sure where to put his attention first, honestly, a little overwhelmed, so he curls a hand around Oscarā€™s hip with one hand and tucks Emmaā€™s hair behind her ear with the other. ā€œAll sorted?ā€
ā€œAll sorted,ā€ Oscar agrees. He tilts his head to meet Emmaā€™s eyes, eyebrows raised like heā€™s waiting for her to sign off as well.
ā€œAll better,ā€ she confirms. She doesnā€™t reach for Lando, though.
Oscarā€™s gaze is still focused on her when he says, ā€œJust wanted a little cuddle before going back to play, right? Nothing serious.ā€ He shifts Emma slightly in his arms and she turns her face into his shoulder for a second, like sheā€™s embarrassed heā€™d tell on her that way.
ā€œGood plan,ā€ Lando says, tucking her hair back once again.
ā€œJust like dad,ā€ Oscar adds, and Lando definitely canā€™t find room inside of himself to be embarrassed ā€“ not with the way his chest is all cozy, like a dryer-warmed blanket.
ā€œOscar gives a good cuddle,ā€ he agrees instead.
Thereā€™s a beat of silence: Lando looking at Oscar, Oscar looking at Emma, Emma looking back and forth between the two of them and the swing set, where her cousins are still playing.
ā€œIā€™m ready,ā€ she decides finally. She plants her palm on Oscarā€™s opposite shoulder and leans back in his arms so she can look him in the face instead.
ā€œGreat!ā€ Oscar says.
ā€œEmma,ā€ Lando says, ā€œsay thanks to Osc, yeah? For fixing you up?ā€
ā€œThanks, Oscar!ā€ she chirps, agreeable. Then she smacks a kiss against his cheek, a match to the one on her own palm, and says, ā€œI love you!ā€ as he sets her down, easy as anything.
Like sheā€™s said it a thousand times. Like itā€™s not anything, like itā€™s just a fact of her life.
Lando watches her run off with a hand on his own cheek, half over his mouth. He knows he must look insane in one direction or the other, the way his eyes are watering and heā€™s smiling to hide how his heart is beating triple-time inside of his chest. But Oscar just slides an arm around his waist, drawing Lando in close to his side.
ā€œSorry if that was-ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ Lando stops Oscar before he can even start. ā€œThat was, likeā€¦ā€ precious, Lando thinks, more than I ever expected.
It's just... there were days after Emmaā€™s mum was gone, when he was alone with his baby, that heā€™d stayed up at night and stared at her even after sheā€™d finally gone down for him; days where heā€™d wondered whether either of them would ever get to say the words to anybody else. There were moments, nights, weeks on end where everything felt scary, and the thought of bringing a whole extra person into their lives was impossible to entertain, more work than it was worth no matter how badly Lando yearned for it. And there were times with Oscar, even, early on, where Lando had hesitated against his lips mid-snog on the couch and despite all the burgeoning something in his own heart, thought: selfish.
Heā€™s never felt further from it all, though, watching Emma jump from the apex of her swingā€™s trip up towards the sky. Sheā€™s never been afraid for long. Comes by it honestly, Lando thinks as he buries a smile against Oscarā€™s shoulder.
ā€œThat wasā€¦?ā€ Oscar prompts into Landoā€™s hair. Heā€™d pressed a kiss there a moment ago and never moved.
ā€œThat was really important,ā€ Lando settles on, still misty eyed.
Oscarā€™s palm does a quick pass up and down his spine before wrapping back around to squeeze Lando in half a hug, ā€œOkay, though? I didnā€™t overstep or anything?ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ Landoā€™s laughing then, still a bit wet, as he dislodges Oscarā€™s chin from the top of his head, ā€œCanā€™t believe she loves you, holy shit.ā€
Oscar smiles down at him, ā€œJust like her dad?ā€
ā€œJust like her dad,ā€ Lando confirms, then presses his own sweet smile right into Oscar's lips.
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foxy-voxy Ā· 2 years ago
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I will take: šŸ’Œshare something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!
Ooh ok.
I have one WIP at the moment. Itā€™s the conclusion to a Sherlock series I started some years ago.
The entire series has been leading up to this point, itā€™s Mycroft/Lestrade/Anthea. D/s flavored like a good deal of my fics are. Dom Lestrade, Switch Anthea, Sub Mycroft. Iā€™m actually excited to finish it because I think my writingā€™s improved some since the first installments and Iā€™ll be able to do it justice like I want to now.
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stardustndreamsofsilver Ā· 2 years ago
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Fic Writer Asks
Thought it would be fun to make one of these myself
šŸ«“ What is your most popular fic?
šŸ„˜ What category do most of your fics fall under?
šŸ² When did you start writing and why?
šŸ± Do you read your own fics?
šŸ› Have any comments, tags or reactions to one of your fics every made you laugh or cry or both?
šŸœ Do you ever feel pressured to write?
šŸ  How long does it take you to write one of your fics or a chapter/part?
šŸ¢ Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?
šŸ£ What helps you focus or get in the mood to write?
šŸ„ What's your favorite fic you've written?
šŸ„® Do you have any writing milestones you're working toward?
šŸ” Which of your fics was the most emotionally difficult to write?
šŸ˜ Is there a fic or idea for a fic that you've abandoned?
šŸ™ Is there a fic you wish had gotten more attention?
šŸš What genre do you have the toughest time writing?
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