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justsome-di · 1 year

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Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 12

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, I do have a ko-fi! Or consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Alex and Damián were set to meet Martin and his wife uptown at 6, and Alex was stuck in the worst dilemma anyone could have been caught in before going out to a new place with new people.

He had no idea what to wear.

His wardrobe and dressers were open and terrorized in his feat to find something that didn’t look like he was about to head to the office. But the thing about not leaving the apartment except to go to work was that a lot of his clothes were for work. He didn’t want a business casual ensemble, and he didn’t want to repeat his outfit from his last fake date.

He couldn’t believe his wardrobe was so barren. It was just a series of button-up tops of different colors and patterns.

There was one top—short sleeves, collar, dark blue with little white arrows up and down it—that he briefly thought looked nice. But after examining himself in the mirror a little too long, he thought it looked a little too casual. Short sleeves probably weren’t appropriate attire if the date was at some semi-swanky restaurant.

A pile of clothes on Alex’s bed grew with his frustration. Was he one of those helpless men who couldn’t get dressed? No. He took clothes seriously. He was just in a pickle at the moment. A new social situation called for a new outfit, and it wasn’t his fault he was so unprepared for it. He wasn’t going to let himself spiral so early in the evening.

Damián was just going to make the situation worse. No matter what, Damián was going to show up as handsome as ever, and sitting next to him, Alex was guaranteed to look mediocre.

But if anyone was going to have any advice on how to dress, it would be Damián who surely had an outfit for every potential social situation.

I don’t know what to wear, Alex texted Damián.

Wear whatever you’re comfortable in.

Alex wasn’t sure yet if Damián’s periods meant something passive-aggressive or if he was just a stickler for punctuation. He quickly scrolled through their previous texts. Damián always seemed to put periods and commas in the right spot when he wasn’t over-using exclamation marks. Okay. He wasn’t mad at Alex. Alex could continue.

What are you wearing?

A selfie was sent through in record time. Damián stood in front of a full-length mirror. He cut his own head off, leaving the focus on his long legs and lean torso. He wore a black sweater and black jeans with a dark, fur-lined jacket. It might have been denim, but Alex couldn’t make it out in the picture. It was so gloriously low-effort, but Damián looked really good in it. Really good.

Alex had to stop staring. He would see Damián in person soon. He didn’t need to commit the selfie to memory.

There wasn’t anything in Alex’s closet that was on the same level of casual-classy. He did, however, have a sweater his mother got him for Christmas a couple of years ago. It still had the tags on it. There was a faint smell of fake wood clinging to it.

When he had unwrapped it, his mother had immediately taken it from his hands and held it up to him. She said that the dark green was the perfect color for him. He was a winter—whatever that meant.

It was a little thin and more form-fitting than anything else he usually wore, so it had sat in the back of his closet with no hope of ever coming out. He didn’t like tight things. It was part of him knowing his limits as a truly mediocre man.

He looked at Damián’s picture again. He looked so nice.

Going by the bed in the background, Alex assumed he took the picture in his bedroom. It felt a little intimate. Alex looked closer. The room was impeccably clean and organized. There was a shelf on the wall behind him, though Alex couldn’t make out any of the books that were sitting on them. There was a plant with long vines dangling down, twisting and remaining full all the way.

So, Damián was incredibly put-together. He could keep a plant alive. And he read. Alex needed to read more. Maybe that would fix some of his problems. When was the last time he had even finished a book? Actually finish. Cover-to-cover. There were loads of books he had tried to read.

The Handmaid’s Tale because Alex wanted to be a good feminist. It was interesting, but he accidentally left it on the subway and never remembered to find another copy.

Great Expectations because he was supposed to read it in high school, and he wanted to try to redeem himself and his low English test scores from that semester. He gave up when he remembered why he had neglected the book in the first place.

One of those Warrior Cats books because Eve devoured them when she was young, and he wanted to know what she was talking about. He didn’t get them.

Brave New World because he once saw it in an article titled “100 Books to Read Before You Die” and Alex was more intimidated by the expectation of reading 100 books in a lifetime rather than the dense, hardback copy of the book he picked up at Barnes & Noble. It was horribly pretentious, he thought later, when he incidentally saw some dick pseudo-academics discussing it online.

Maybe he could make it a conversation starter with Damián. Ask for recommendations. Pretend like he wasn’t totally creepy and wasn’t investigating the background of his selfie.

Alex had to look back at himself in the mirror. Maybe the sweater wasn’t too bad now that he had it on. The color was nice. His mother was right. But he wasn’t sure about how it hugged him. Alex had been cursed with a pear shape, and he was never sure what he was supposed to wear.

“How do I look?” Alex asked, walking out and standing in front of Eve.

She was reading a book. Dammit. Everyone read but him. He had to find a book.

“You look fine,” she said, giving him the briefest glance over.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She turned a page. Giovanni’s Room. Alex wondered what it was about and if it would be a good starting point for him. “I’m not doing this every time you have a date.”

“I’d do it for you if you had dates.”

Eve wrinkled her nose up and stuck her tongue out. Alex didn’t mean for it to be a dig at her romantic life, but he counted it as a petty victory.

Alex’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

I’ll meet you outside the restaurant?

Yeah. See you there!

A surge was going to happen soon. Alex could tell. Every 30-year-old in the city was about to go out before the young people started their parties and had their late-night dinners. He didn’t have the money to spare for both a date with Damián and surge prices to the restaurant and back.

“I have to go,” Alex said.

Their messages didn’t push Damián’s selfie out of view. Alex smiled at it. Even without his head, Damián was handsome.

“Don’t get mushy with your boyfriend in front of me,” Eve said.

Alex wanted to correct her. She deserved to know that there was no real boyfriend and that Alex was just as lonely as her. It felt like a nasty secret to keep from her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

“Whatever. Don’t get murdered.”

“Maybe I want to get murdered.”

“Then get murdered. I don’t care.”

Alex pulled his good coat back out of the closet. He could remember exactly how Damián’s hands felt on his shoulders when he helped him into it. It made his stomach flutter and his heart sink. He would prefer to never see the coat ever again. But it was worth it for another date with “Marcus.” Maybe he could get as many bittersweet memories tied up into it as possible to minimize the items that would be tainted by the scheme. And then he could burn the coat at the end of the month.

It was probably time to get a new one anyway.

Alex hopped out of his Uber 20 minutes later with regret in his bank account. If he had left earlier, he could have taken the subway and saved money. But that meant taking the subway.

He finished the commute on foot. He saved a whole dollar by having the drop-off point a few minutes away from the restaurant. It had been a financial tip he saw on Twitter followed by how to invest in the newest, most promising cryptocurrencies. The original poster didn’t appear to speak to a consistent audience. Alex had never followed him, but the Uber tip had stayed in the back of his mind ever since.

People were starting to flood the streets. Millennial couples were out in their best H&M and Target ensembles. Those who were particularly thriving weren’t out among those posing as people who needed to budget for nights in these parts of the city. They went to the even swankier places. Maybe they left the city altogether.

Alex walked down the block and turned the corner. He kept his head up to read every business sign he passed until, right in front of him, he saw a hanging sign jutting out over the sidewalk. It was minimalistic and rustic. Sweet Pine. Below it, thankfully, he saw Damián tucked away against the brick wall.

Damián didn’t look much better. His hands were tucked into his jacket. It looked like the wall was supporting his entire weight. Before he spotted Alex, he was frowning at the street, eyes not focused on anything. His head lazily followed some pedestrians who walked past him.

When Alex walked into his line of sight, he straightened and smiled.

“Are you feeling any better?” Alex asked, hoping it wasn’t too intrusive or personal. Or weird that he remembered that Damián wasn’t doing so well days ago. “Than you were a few days ago?”

“Loads.”

Damián took Alex’s arm which sent a little shock through all of Alex. He hooked his hand in Alex’s elbow. Together, they walked in.

The lobby was warm and packed with people. Alex immediately started sweating and prayed that he wasn’t staining his sweater. Hopefully, the color was dark enough to hide any damp spots. Maybe his mother had thought of that when she bought the sweater. She was practical like that. Alex wouldn’t put it past her to pick a sweater based on if it hid sweat well.

Damián seemed immune to the grosser side of body functions. Alex had never seen him break a sweat. Actually, right then, he shivered. His hands trembled on Alex. He had a hard time keeping the rest of himself still, making him tense and vibrating in his spot.

Alex gave the host their names, and she whisked them off to a table. Damián followed, his hand still tucked into Alex’s elbow but not watching where they were headed. He looked around the dining room. He watched the waiters walk by and looked at the other diners quietly sitting at their meals. Alex didn’t know what he was trying to see, but he looked only half-aware of it all.

“I’m Marcus tonight?” Damián asked when they were seated.

“Yeah. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Damián slowly turned his head to Alex. “What was that?”

“I asked if you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“We don’t have to do this. I can tell Martin you weren’t feeling well, and we can leave.”

Damián shrugged out of his coat and laid it delicately over the back of his chair as if to say they were staying. Alex tried taking off his coat with the same poise, but his left arm got tangled in its sleeve. He didn’t have as much wiggle room as the slim Damián did, and he awkwardly pressed himself against the table while his arms stretched behind him. Finally, out of his wool prison, he laid it over the back of his chair.

He was still hot. Damián was squeezing his hands together, trying to get them warm.

Alex pushed his sleeves up. Hopefully, he’d cool down before Martin and his wife showed up.

Damián was staring at him. Fuck. He wore the wrong thing. Alex plucked his sweater away from his middle, self-conscious about how tight it fit. He should have just worn the dark blue top. He wouldn’t have been sweltering in the short sleeves.

But Damián was smiling at him.

“You look nice,” Damián said.

Oh. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He looked Alex up and down. Alex’s face was burning. A waiter placed a glass of water in front of him, and he wanted to dump the whole thing over himself. Condensation was just starting to prickle up all over it. The ice shifted with clinks Alex couldn’t hear but still knew were there.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked.

Damián nodded. His eyes looked clearer. He was back with Alex. “I’m being totally honest. You are very handsome. I am very lucky to have people think we’re dating.”

God, how embarrassing. Damián was maybe the most attractive man Alex had ever seen in person, and he thought Alex was handsome? Or he was at least flattering him.

“Am I being too much?” Damián asked.

Fuck. Alex must have had his skepticism showing on his face. “No! Not at all!”

“Leo says I’m too much sometimes. He calls me ‘extra.’ Worse, he calls me extra and then asks if I know what being extra means. He thinks I’m getting old.”

“I think I was born old.”

Damián tittered. “I was worried about turning 30, but now that I’m 31 and, you know, wise and mature, I’ve come to peace knowing I’m not going into a nursing home anytime soon.”

“You’re only 31? I’m 33. I’m ancient!”

“No. No. You’re youthful and fresh. You’re only two years older than me.”

“I’m decrepit. I got one foot in the grave.”

They were falling easily into self-deprecating jokes that neither of them meant. Alex’s anxieties were melting away watching Damián curl forward and chuckle at the dry humor that most people didn’t get. He had only joked so well with Eve.

“No! We can’t be old.” Damián pressed his hand to cheek. “What happens when we’re 40?”

“I don’t know!”

Alex felt a little tug at the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to say how lucky they were to be aging. Queer people were only just starting to get old again. But he was sure that Damián understood that, too, and might have been biting his own tongue. It would kill the mood if either of them were to bring it up, and Damián was starting to look better. His eyes were brightening.

“Do I start Botox now?” Damián asked. He held one hand out, palm up and fingers limp.

“No.” Alex shook his head. He pushed forward into the dry humor. “Botox is a gateway drug.”

“A gateway drug?”

“It starts with Botox. Then you start getting all of this other stuff done. In ten years, you look like Versace.”

“Versace? Versace’s dead. That’s a whole thing.”

“No. The other Versace. The one that’s alive.”

“Donatella Versace? Be nice to her. She’s done nothing to you.”

“She has a weird face.”

Damián’s jaw dropped. “Rude! She’s been through a lot.”

“A lot of plastic surgery.”

Damián covered his mouth to hide his laughter. “Your queer card has been revoked. For hating on Donatella—she’s an ally, by the way—and for disrespecting a woman’s autonomy. I didn’t take you for a misogynist.”

“I still respect her! All I’m saying is, if you start Botox, there’s no guarantee you won’t get addicted to plastic surgery like her.”

“Maybe if you inherited a fashion empire, you’d be a little more sympathetic. It wasn’t even hers to begin with, and if you think about it, she’s probably always surrounded by models who are always 20 when she’s aging.”

“Okay. Fine. She gets a pass because she’s entrenched so deeply in beauty standards.”

“Also her trauma with her brother.”

“Okay, but you shouldn’t get—“

“Oh my God, wait, hold on,” Damián waved his hands, “I need to tell you this. There was a podcast about Gianni Versace’s murder, and they were saying that his killer had met him before he was murdered, and how they could have traveled in these same circles for a bit—“

“Versace got murdered?”

“Yes! Famously! Let me finish. It’s a whole thing.”

“Wait. Wait.” Alex held up his hands and wiggled happily in his chair. Damián looked fantastic. “We need to stay on topic.”

“What was the topic? I forgot already.”

“Botox.”

“Oh my god, don’t get Botox, Alex,” Damián said, with feigned earnestness. “You’ll start down a dangerous path of plastic surgery.”

It was so ridiculous. It shouldn’t have made Alex laugh, but he did. And Damián started laughing—actually laughing—with him.

“I don’t have plans for Botox,” Alex said. “I was warning you.”

“I’m getting so old, though. I might be getting wrinkles soon. We could try Botox together!”

They were straining themselves trying to keep their laughter quiet. They leaned in towards one another, their shoulders pressed together. The restaurant was so nice and there they were, giggling like children over a string of bad jokes.

But it was such a relief to see Damián perk up so quickly.

“Alex?”

Alex looked up. Martin was holding out a chair for his wife. She smiled at them as took her seat, arranging her long, blonde hair behind her shoulders. She was very beautiful in a plain sort of way. There wasn’t anything exceptionally attractive about her. No distinctive features. Her hair was straight and void of highlights or lowlights. She just looked welcoming and friendly.

Alex cleared his throat. “Martin. Hello.”

“This is my wife, Sam,” Martin said. Sam nodded her head politely to them. “Sam, this is Alex. And Marcus, correct?”

Damián nodded with a wide smile. He had settled into his character. “Correct. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Martin’s cheeks colored. “Yeah. Uh.” He took his seat. “I guess I should start off tonight with an apology.”

Damián straightened. Alex held his breath. It was happening. Martin was turning over a new leaf. Damián was going to get a little respect, and they could still pull off the rest of the scheme.

Martin clasped his hands together and set them on the table. “I apologize.”

“What he means is,” Sam said to Damián, “he understands now that you have a very respectable and challenging career. And that it’s not funny to put someone in your position in the situation he did.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “All of that. And I really do feel bad. The guys kinda forced me into it. Not to deflect responsibility or anything. I just—I wasn’t a fan of it from the start. I do really know that it was totally wrong.”

“Okay,” Damián said. “It sounds like you get it. I can find it in me to forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“As long as Alex forgives you, too.”

“Oh.” Alex clenched his fists under the table. “Uh. I do.”

He didn’t. Not totally. That was why they were doing the whole scheme. He did appreciate the effort Martin was being forced to make, though.

“I, for one, think this whole thing is cute,” Sam said. “You guys made the best out of the whole thing. And it’s totally like Pretty Woman.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing for the past two weeks,” Damián said. He turned to Alex. “You’re like a young Richard Gere.”

Alex shook his head. He was vaguely familiar with Richard Gere from the 90s, but the man faded from any recognition after that. “I’ve never seen Pretty Woman.”

Damián’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. You what? This isn’t—hold on.”

He was being serious. He turned fully to Alex and held out a finger to him. Alex widened his eyes.

“You’ve never seen Pretty Woman? With Julia Roberts?” Damián asked.

Alex wanted to give him a sarcastic response, but he didn’t. “No.”

“I’m making you watch it. You and I can’t be together if you haven’t seen it.” Damián shook his head at Sam, who was clearly enjoying the false display of a flamboyant gay man. He knew how to play a straight, white woman. “He’s never seen Pretty Woman. Can you believe that?”

“I gathered,” she said.

Damián scoffed. “Anyway, yes, it does feel like Pretty Woman. And I love pretending like I’m Julia Roberts. Especially in her black dress. She looked so good in that.”

“She did!” Sam sighed. “You know, I really forced Martin to do this. I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to meet,” Sam lowered her voice, “a sex worker. I think it’s just the coolest thing.”

Alex could feel the sheet of ice slap Damián’s face. There hadn’t been all that much progress. This was a mistake. Alex should have saved Damián the misery.

Sam leaned over the table. Martin smiled nervously at Alex.

“Can I ask you a couple of questions, Marcus?” Sam asked.

“Sure.”

“What kind of sex work do you do? Like, do you have an Only Fans?”

Damián’s smiled tightened like a man who had been asked that question a hundred times.

“I do what I guess you’d call traditional work? I don’t,” Damián lowered his voice and glanced around, meeting Sam’s eyes when he turned back to her, “I don’t do porn. It’s not really my type of thing. I do know people who do it, and it’s a pretty intense gig. Too time-consuming for me.”

“Right. Right.” Sam nodded. “So, do you—I don’t know how this works—how do you find clients? Or how do they find you?”

Damián delivered the answer so perfectly that Alex wanted to jump from his chair and punch the air and high-five Damián.

A slow smile spread on Damián’s face, and he said, with great smugness, “Your husband knows. Ask him.”

Alex held everything in. He’d shake Damián’s hand later.

Sam, face red, leaned back. Martin turned his face to his lap.

“So,” Damián said, lacing his fingers together and laying his chin on them. There was a twinkle in his eyes. “I know where Martin and Alex work. But what do you, Sam?”

“I, uh, work in a, uh, marketing firm.”

Martin had his face turned down to the table. Sam couldn’t complete a sentence. The revenge was going to be great. And seeing Damián get a good jab in and have fun, all of Alex’s reservations were gone. He was going to enjoy his fake dates for as long as he got them, and he wouldn’t let himself think about how guilty he felt or how much he’d mourn them once he and Damián parted ways for good.

#Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub Everyone Keeps Their Organs #nobody ends up dead #writblr #writeblr #original writing #original fiction #my writing #writing community #lgbt fiction #queer fiction

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taste-thewaste · 5 months

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20 questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag pal @bigassbowlingballhead <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

27, from a mix of fandoms

What's your total ao3 word count?

208,454

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB currently. In the past (on AO3) i've written for Rocketman, Rocketman RPF, Bodyguard and Harry Potter

Top five fics by kudos:

Turn the desert to glass (you would be the one) [RWRB]

In Case, just in case (RWRB)

Breach (HP)

A Different Beginning (HP)

I'm Not A Present For Your Friends to Open (Rocketman)

Only linked the rocketman ones lol

Do you respond to comments?

yes! i'm really behind right now but i'm gonna catch up tonight/soon

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

man i have a LOT of angst and none that have ended lmao. all my angstiest fics are WIPs/multi chaps that aren't done yet. Probably "in case, just in case" (a henry SH fic)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mmm a lot of them have happy endings, but a personal favorite? turn the desert to glass

Do you get hate on fics?

yeah, i've gotten a bit. at one point I had a really popular Harry Potter fic that was a weight gain fic and it is obviously not a lot of people's thing...which is fine but they forgot the back button exists! silly willy. they left a comment on almost every chapter about how disgusting they found it. cool???

Do you write smut?

Yep, it's in just about every fic i write at this point lol

Craziest crossover:

hahhaha reaching back into the archives of that bastard website fanfiction.net, i once did a house m.d./the shining crossover. i was 16, leave me alone

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! @england-would-fall and I are cowriting YLHC, my beloved!

All time favorite ship?

firstprince. used to be drarry but sorry, alex and henry are it.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ooh man i have a rocketman fic with like 20 chapters that will never get finished but it would be nice to get it just DONE one of these years. same with in case, just in case

What are your writing strengths?

description, emotion, pretty sentences

What are your writing weaknesses?

pacing, i use way too many commas

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

if it works with the fic, then sure! no real opinion on this one honestly

First fandom you wrote in?

y'all ready? first fandom was House in 2006. still got most of it hanging around in various spots on the internet, i should unearth some of it some day to entertain people. it's BAD

Favorite fic you've written?

the fic i never stfu about, henry's tummy fic. my magnum opus lol turn the desert to glass

tagging: @england-would-fall @onthewaytosomewhere @henrysfox @doublecheekedkinard @luainthewild

@agostobuwan and open tag!

#20 fic questions #tag game #blog

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newsmutproject · 1 year

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I was in the process of writing a piece and I wanted to ask about what sorts of language and profanity were allowed. obviously, I don't want anything that could be seen as a slur, or something offensive, but I want to know where the line is to avoid making something that seems either too crude, or undeveloped.

Good morning! Co-editor T.C. Mill here.

So initially I admit I was surprised by this question. We are the New Smut Project, after all. Our target audience is not those busybodies who rate books 1 star on Goodreads because a character says "Jesus fucking Christ!" at some point.

But as I woke up more and considered it, I see where you're coming from, Anon. There is such a thing, for our purposes (not everyone's! Sexy is subjective. But we're cultivating particular kinds of sexiness here), as "too crude." It's a matter of more than word choice, though.

In previous guidelines we noted a preference for "tasteful" word choice and specified liking "come" over "cum". That last bit's still our preference - and our house style - but we can always change "cum" to "come" in copyedits, along with adding serial commas (and in all honesty, we can be argued out of either change in individual cases to fit an author's artistic vision. Maybe the characters are sexting and there's no way they're typing four letters when they can type three. Etc.)

"Tasteful," I realize now, is too vague. I love the word "cunt" much more than "pussy." Other people feel the exact opposite and to them, that's tasteful. Mood matters too. What's tasteful in the heat of the moment can feel crude on the first page of the story (not always, though! A first page that opens with something really raw and passionate will get my attention!). If the story's a piece of IKEA erotica with flat(-pack) characters going through the motions, just about any word choice will sound cringe.

Also for a combination of reasons "fuck" doesn't even parse as profanity to me anymore, so there's that.

If you look at our tag for Terms and Language you'll see a range of people's ideas, opinions, and favorite vocabulary - everything from discussions of identity labels to synonyms for "cock."

In our author interviews for Cunning Linguists (to some people, that title is probably too crude), we asked about people's favorite and least favorite words in sex writing, and received some fascinating, funny, and steamy answers!

Finding the right word to fit the moment is always one of the writer's challenges and privileges, whether writing sex or anything else. That said, some advice that I think could be helpful here: NSP Co-Editor Alex Freeman's article "Sex Writing 101."

It breaks down a sex scene into different 'ingredients' - action, reaction, dialogue, sensory details, and so on. If that sounds a bit technical, I'd encourage you to look at it as descriptive rather than prescriptive -- it's possible to write a great sex scene without any dialogue, for instance! But looking at where dialogue appears in the example sex scene and what it adds can spark some ideas that help any story to feel more vivid and interesting. That help to build an erotic mood.

The same word might feel "too crude" if it appears in an underdeveloped scene and, in a piece where intimacy and erotic tension have been built, it might feel absolutely fucking perfect.

It's not tastefulness we're looking for so much as the right combination of juicy flavors.

As a closing thought: the deeper you get into your character's POV throughout the story, the more freedom you have to use whatever language they would use.

Wait, I lied, one more closing thought: If your story has a title like "I Had Sex With My 18-Year-Old Babysitter Last Night," we are going to be turned off by it before we read the first page, even if none of those words are individually crude. Though the fact is the people sending us those stories probably haven't bothered to read any part of our site except the email address to send their stories in to. If you're making an effort, you'll come in ahead of them. (Note: this is not a reference to any one submission we've received, but rather a whole number of them - pieces that are very artless, cliche, and often make use of power dynamics in a way we really aren't about.)

#terms and language

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sharkpupsblog · 2 years

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😭 Back Pains 😭

A Katja x GN! Soul Rider Reader Fanfic!

Wooo!!!! Another silly fluffy Katja fic!!!! Once again I’m not using the ‘Katja freezes everything she touches’ thing to make it extra fluffy :D had a lot of fun with this one but it feels a bit ooc and short :( …so sorry for that 😭💔 also I SUCK at commas and all that I’m so sorry for that :( hoping to improve on it soon🙏 huge Ty to @ mistfalldruid for the req I had so much fun writing this silly fluffy fic u saved Katja fans from my angst evils 🤭 also I realized this is my fifth katja fic wow . 😭❤️ anyways ty and enjoy !!! :D ❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You spend time with Katja after you get hurt and she worries for you.

Warnings: none.

You lay down on your stomach on Katja’s bed. You stretch and let out a quiet groan as your bones crackle and pop. Once you’re done stretching you let out a sigh going completely flat on the bed your body slowly relaxing. Today had been hard your team accidentally bumped with Katja’s during a mission to destroy a Dark Core machine in Hollow Woods and obviously Katja’s team wasn’t fine with letting you do that, so a fight broke out. While you gathered enough energy to destroy the machine your friends fought the dark riders. You thought you were safe from the fight and that you were clear to do your job but right as you were about to deliver the final blow Sabine and Khaan came out of nowhere and knocked you off your horse. You hit the ground hard. Hard enough to knock all the air out of your lungs and leave you with a horrible pain in your back. Your horse kept running for a bit before realizing you had been knocked off. When you recovered you got back up with the help of your horse who came running back to you when they realized you were not on their back anymore and together you both destroyed the machine. As you did you kept your guard up terrified to get hurt again. Once the fighting was over due to the fact that the machine was destroyed Jay and Sabine rode off. Katja looked for you and once she found you and you made eye contact with her, she looked to Valedale she was trying to tell you to meet her there. When you nodded, she rode off following her teammates. Your friends didn’t see Katja’s interaction with you since you were behind them, and they were celebrating their win. When their little celebration was done you told your friends you would stay behind and clean up. once you were done with cleaning you could see Katja, but Alex told you they would do it. Alex and the others saw your fall, and you went red clearly embarrassed, but they assured you that you were fine and since it looked like a hard hit it would be better if you went home to rest. You got on your horse you thanked your friends wishing them luck with the clean up and you rode to Valedale If they asked you any questions about it you would just say you took the Valedale trailer home. Once in Valedale you rode up the little mountain that held the entrance to the Valley of the Hidden Dinosaur. You rode into the entrance taking the elevators down into the valley and then you rode through it and to the ice witch lair. You rode slow because of the ice and because your back was killing you. when you made it to the lair the magic protecting the entrance slowly faded and the ice spikes that looked like fangs slowly went down to let you in. when it was clear to go in you led your horse inside to a little spot where Mortifa was eating hay. You had taken a while to get here so Katja got home first. Your horse neighed and Mortifa neighed back welcoming you both. You took your horse’s reins off and you put them away watching as your horse trotted over to Mortifa to join her in eating. You walked deeper into the lair, and you went straight to Katja’s room thinking she would be in there. She wasn’t but you were too tired and sore with no energy to go and look for her, so you laid down on her bed. And now here you were on her bed waiting for her. You sighed again this time the sigh was from boredom. You closed your eyes maybe you could catnap while you waited for her. You closed your eyes only a few seconds passing before you felt a blanket be draped on you. You opened your eyes seeing Katja and what was draped on you was not a blanket it was her poncho. You smiled at her, and she smiled back at you sitting next to you she put her hand on your back. She watched your face making sure you were not in too much pain before rubbing your back “how are you feeling?” She asked you and you hummed “like shit” you laughed softly “your friend hits hard.” Katja’s nose scrunched a bit in anger and her brows furrowed “I saw what she did and that brute is not my friend” she shook her head Katja didn’t want any harm to come to you she was angry really fucking angry.

Angry enough to cause her magic to react to her emotion making her hand cold, cold enough for you to feel through the poncho and your clothes. You shivered a bit, and you said her name causing her to tense as she realized how cold she had gotten she quickly removed her hand from your back apologizing. You reached for her hand, and once she made sure it was safe she allowed you to grab it. You kissed her palm and then the back of her hand making her relax she frowned “I should have kept an eye on you.” You shook your head “it’s my fault I should have been looking around” you let her hand go propping yourself up on your elbows letting out a quiet groan of pain as you did. You laughed and you covered your eyes with your hands confessing something to her “I’m so embarrassed!” You laughed more your cheeks turning red “I keep imagining how it happened and I feel it must have looked incredibly silly” you huffed and smiled at Katja she did not return the smile. “It looked horrible It didn’t look silly” when she said ‘silly’ it sounded angry. you sat up when she said that the poncho sliding off of you as you sat up. You frowned “Katja I’m fine” you picked the poncho up from behind you putting it on you loved her poncho it was really warm and soft, and it smelled like her perfume which you loved because it smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. “I’m fine I really am and if I don’t laugh about the pain in my back then I’ll cry about it” you rubbed your back it still hurt a lot. “Don’t be upset Katja I’m fine” you pouted a bit when the angry look on her face remained. She let out a huff looking away from you not wanting to see the sad look on your face and you scooted over to her nudging her. “Laugh with me?” You kissed her shoulder that got her attention she looked at you the angry look on her face gone replaced with a surprised one. Your smile returned and you kissed her shoulder again and even though she was still a bit angry she smiled back because she knew you hated seeing her upset and she loved the affection she got from you “I promise I’ll stick by you next time” you rest your head on her chest and she messed with your hair. Katja was about to say something to you, but you beat her in speaking “also I’m stealing your poncho” you were playing with her trying to lighten the mood and remove any negative emotions she had left. She let out an amused laugh “you wouldn’t be stupid enough to dare steal it from me.” You kissed her cheek before you slowly started to scoot off the bed and she narrowed her eyes at you “don’t you dare” She saw you look behind her and she followed your gaze seeing you look at the door. She was about to stand to block the door of her room, but you beat her, and you got off the bed laughing loudly as you ran out of the room. Katja laughed surprised by your little game, and she stood up running after you. The rest of your day was full of laughter, and you completely forgot about the pain in your back and Katja forgot her anger.

TY FOR READING! ❤️❤️❤️🐎🐎🐎

#ssoblr #sso #star stable online #katjassoxreaderfanfic #katjassofanfic #katjasso #mortifasso #darkriderssso #soulriderssso #sharkpupsblogwrites!‼️🗣#lookingforssomoots💔

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futureseaempress · 11 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

hi so my sweetheart tagged me in this @hypnostheory so thank u bb

1. How many works do you have in Ao3?

27 (teehee that's my fave number) (i also have like two more on a google drive that are wips,,, some princes don't become kings & first date which is called nastygum in like all my notes)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 163,308 which is like longer than twilight i think

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Homestuck, AFTG, SK8 the Infinity, TMA, Stardew Valley, RWRB, and uhhh law and order svu

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

honey, why're you calling me so late? (matchablossom)

about to bloom (matchablossom)

baby kiss it better (first prince)

i only want what i can't have (first prince)

as certain dark things are to be loved (jonmartin)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i would love to but sometimes i just don't have anything to say

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

uhhhhh i don't think any of my fics have super angsty endings-- fanning the flame was supposed to end with a super sad chapter about agnes and jack but i never wrote it lmao maybe i'll get back to her in november

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

ummmm i try to end everything on a loving/happy note bc that's what i like to read most

i think asking you to stay has like the cheesiest last line

8. Do you get hate on fics?

uh not yet thank goodness. i used to back in my wattpad days though and i did have someone say something kinda off color to me in a writing exchange but that worked itself out

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

because it's most of what i read i try to include like a horny scene in most if not all of my stuff but i like anything rlly i sort by ship, explicit, and go from there I think "Coming In Pants" is a frequent flyer.

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s your craziest one?

Nope. Not my cup of tea. OH MY GOD ACTUALLY I'M A LIAR IN 2012 I HAD A ONE DIRECTION RPF TWILIGHT FANFIC? THAT I NEVER POSTED AND SOLELY EXISTED IN MY NOTES APP THAT MY FRIEND AND I WOULD LIKE ROLEPLAY???? seventh grade was wild for me

11. Have you ever had your fic stolen?

YEP! both my current fanfic and my older stuff like i had a terrible homestuck fanfic on wattpad that someone reposted saying mine was too smutty and then on ao3 there is a fic,,, that,,, very heavily seems to draw from baby kiss it better but idk maybe henry wearing alex's white t shirt and a taylor swift cardigan while sick before alex blows him is just reaaally common

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

so other than some garbage i was writing in middle school no, but i do for sure like let my partner beta everything and we run ideas by each other all the time and like work out how to block stuff and what seems interesting they keep me from going to melodramatic and i help them know what sex sounds fun

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

oh god i can't choose. i love davekat, but i love alex and henry a lot. like a lot. like wow i loved the book last year and the movie has given me brain worms and there's other karkat ships i rlly like. hmmm okay i have two hands and i hold my sons Crabapple and Firstprince.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably never will?

so many davekat wips

the sweet home alabama fic for sure.

the nanny au. uh the other davekat band au that's just a draft... probably fanning the flame. there's also a coda for more silver paint that haunts me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

uhhhhh i think i'm good at banter? (see echoed through my mind) i think i'm good at like making stuff fit into canon and comply with it in fun ways (see this hope is). i think i'm good at writing characters having break downs (see chapter 3 of silver paint or going with the flow)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I SUCK SO BAD AT FINISHING THINGS AND I GET STUCK ON MY PORN EVERY TIME

also commas

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

bafhehasdk so like it's kinda a pet peeve a lot of the times i feel like spanish especially ends up reading kind of like Law and Order dialogue like "he trabajo'ed here last week" but i eat that shit up in theory. like people would probs do better throwing random french in shit bc my ass would be like SOUNDS RIGHT TO ME. it's also like cultural references get lost and i know just enough spanish to know when something is "off" so i prefer like "This is a line of dialogue," they said in Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Homestuck! on wattpad! in 2012! it was bad mpreg! i was 13!!

TMA on ao3! in like 2020

but i did once write a one direction rpf with my friend that we posted on instagram in 2011

20. Favorite fic that you’ve written?

oh god i don't know. i think it's gotta be glory just bc i spent so long with it and i'm hoping to finish it during november (i do nanowrimo in a crazy bass ackwards way) but tire trouble is like the one everyone else loves best??? and i have a sequel in the works for it im just super into rwrb rn

I’m tagging @wardenhawke bc i feel like you might like talking about your ocs at least and i like u

#asks #writers #20 questions for fic writers #20 questions

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kalyri · 2 years

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suddenly reminded of my second creative writing class in college--i took it after taking intro to creative writing that spring semester. and the professor for fiction writing 1 was the head of the creative writing department, i was like “cool, i can learn something from a teacher rather than just dealing with the grad students. which i didn’t mind, i actually liked the grad student assigned to my group of like 10 students out of like the 150 or so that were there...

anyway. the thing that i suddenly remembered because the professor was just... not good. especially with the content of the story i was writing for the class. and he started with the very typical “no genre writing” which confused the hell out of me, because then what the fuck was I supposed to write? all writing, to me, is genre writing. because you’re writing in a genre. if it’s fiction without supernatural, scifi, fantasy, whatever, then it’s like historical or realistic or romance, etc. there’s always a genre. so that was the first thing i didn’t like.

but the content of the story i was writing specifically for this class was queer in nature. at the time, i had a friend who’d solidified their gender as non-binary, and we’d decided to try dating, either before the summer started or just after the summer started. and so i decided to write something about about a relationship between a lesbian and a non-binary person. and i used they/them pronouns throughout the story and named the character Alexandre. and that reverse -re is what brought the memory on, because i’m reading a book written by a NZ author who does that for words like kilometre.

anyway, the guy didn’t like this--and he tried so hard to frame it as grammatical. but it was worse than that because he was so up in arms about how to pronounce Alexandre, without referencing the fact that words like kilometre are said like kilometer. I’d only intended the Alexandre as like a cross between Alexandra and Alexander--this was the name the character had chosen. And Alex as a nickname was no ambiguous, it worked. And for most of the story, Alexandre went by just Alex. The entire like summer semester that I was in this online class--and it was all online. He recorded videos of himself reviewing these writing pieces--and we were also reviewed by classmates for like the pseudo-midterms or whatever, and the only issues some of them had were like my mention of what kind of car I decided to use for the part of the story in the mechanic shop where the lesbian worked, or things of that nature. Things that could improve the content.

This guy literally couldn’t hide his queerphobia enough behind his stink about grammatical “mistakes”. I literally fixed that one issue with changing Themself to Theirself, because theirself was in the dictionary at the time as an actual word, whereas Themself was not. As if language isn’t changing and we can’t make up words for our *fictional* works.

Anyway, at the end of the class he asked us to write some sort of review of the whole thing, and I dragged him through the dirt. Because the entire time he was ripping me apart for my choice in words and content but not actually helping me structure the story the way he was supposed to. Tell me when I’m switching tenses, tell them i’m typing run on sentences without realizing; hell, tell me I’m using way too many damn commas. but don’t tell me that my story doesn’t make sense because you don’t know how to say Alexandre, and themself isn’t a word.

So i told him all of this in a 3rd person perspective, because he asked us to write it not to him, but to “the professor”. Idk. And he was apparently confused about why i was so angry...

just remembered all of that today and then immediately got pissed off because i went into fiction writing 2 that fall and used the same story as my last long form writing assignment. and you wanna know what the class and the professor wanted me to change? the shit that didn’t make sense, like a 13 year old living on her own with her two fathers living in new york and her mother living in a different part of the same city, and no one asking questions about it. asking me to delve further into the lesbian’s background because it was all mentioned, but nothing was ever shown--only some of Alex’s background, due to the short length of the story at the time; and then add in more to the final scene of the story that rounded it out. Shit that *actually* helped.

anyway... i hope he had a small rock--not much bigger than a grain of sand--stuck in his shoe during any classes he taught this week. so he can be as annoyed as i was during that summer.

#kaly's being a dumbass #writing stuff

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breadandblankets · 6 months

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Opening Lines Meme

Tagged by @livingmeatloaf (lmao i just changed it)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

They do this sometimes, just sit and watch Morgan work. (CE Code Section 10: Grounding and Bonding - S&D Tier, safety lecture disguised as fic, Alex S Tier/Morgan D Tier

The video rolls and Bruce feels all of his years, every sleepless night, every stitch, staple, and pin. (chapter 4 of so i can find someone to rely on (and run to them) - Batman, ghost king jason todd, gen)

Duke Thomas is having the weirdest day ever. (a great, dark, soft thing - Batman, duke has his powers woken by events in prev fic has a migraine about it, gen

Tim, it seems, has never once in his life waited. (chapter 3 of no. 2)

There is a package on his doorstep. (chap 2)

The door, locked in front of him, his “mother” beside him, the damning beep of the countdown timer, the pulsing agony that followed every beat of his heart. (chap 1)

“Luo Binghe’s transfer has not gone through,” Shen Qingqiu says as he comes in, calm and collected. (the window to the soul (and other such fallacies) - SVSSS, how to fix the world one tea not-date at a time, Shang Qinghua/Shen Jiu)

Deathclaw is a being of utmost dread, is what X6 decides as he is woken up by his oxygen supply being cut off by fur. (chap 2 of the differences we sometimes fear to show - Fallout 4, deathclaw is a cat, Deacon/X6-88)

The night was becoming X6-88's favorite time of day. (chap 1 of above)

You ever have something so batsh— uh crap insane happen to you that the whole event simply takes up permanent residence in your head? (one of the afternoons ever - Fallout 4, part one of railroad au X6, gen)

What have we learned?

the romance between me and in media res

I'm a big fan of statement openers, just a general observation about the situation about to play out. These are either backed up later in the story or theyre immediately disproven

Either a v short sentence or a long abuse of the comma, no in between.

Limited third person pov my beloved, shout out to the single 2nd?? person pov happening at no 10

Present tense: 6; Past: 2; Future: 1; Mixed or unknown (i hated english class if you ask me what a particle or whatever its called i will scream): 1

additional just cause i noticed it, im about 50/50 about establishing who the story is about in the first sentence, usually i can go a whole paragraph before telling the reader who im talking about

That was neat! i would apologize for posting several of the same fic if i was sorry XD

I'll tag @enbycupcake and @owldork1998 and anyone else who wants in! thank u loaffff

#tag games #i got a bunch of new mutuals recently but idk if we are at tag game level of mutuals yet so just idk jump in

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octozolf · 3 years

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“Nothing you can see, my darlings.”

this is a strong contender for the most terrifying thing Alex has said in all of RQG, I love it, and I am begging him to never say these words again.

#rqg #rqg 199 #rqg spoilers #rusty quill gaming #alexander j newall #I don’t even know if I’m more upset by the part before the comma or after #on one hand ALEX WHAT DID YOU DO #on the other #there is a linear relationship between threat severity and endearments #and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten anything close to a ‘darling’ before #so #oh god #oh no

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edeldoro · 4 years

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Final Day of Schnee Week, Day Seven: Friends! Was inspired by Winter and Penny's friendship and leitmotifs in accord against Cinder in the Volume 7 finale and couldn't help wondering how it would sound in a non-combative environment. They're doing better.

Ocarina, Acoustic Bass - Penny

Harp - Winter

Clearer version (Downloadable audio)

Day One: Swords

Day Two: Willow

Day Three: Weiss Multiship

Day Four: Winter Multiship

Day Five: Baby Schnees

Day Six: Everybody Punch Jacques

Another motivator was from the fact the exchange we get from Penny and Winter in Cordially Invited isn't in the OST? It kind of feels like a gross omission from both Penny and Winter's arcs, but I guess there were reasons. Penny's leitmotifs are just so good and full of heart... Winter supporting her onscreen and musically and Penny responding in kind... Yes.

The second fact Winter's leitmotif is an inversion of one of Penny's as well, a trait shared with Weiss, but is in parallel major, is so interesting personally. I believe that once you hear it, you can't forget. Wow, Winter has two sisters.

#RWBY #Schnee Week #Penny Polendina #Winter Schnee #Alex Abraham #Jeff Williams #LM #I'm fond of this one #Might have cried writing it because I thought of a friend I haven't heard from since last year #Before quarantine and I don't know if he's alive or we've drifted either way I wish him well #Penny please be okay (if not okay-er)#Title is supposed to be with a comma between Rest and Assured but I will take it

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glitchglint · 2 years

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Alex Fierro x reader

Part 1

Disclaimer: Swearing, Grammer mistakes (English isn't my first language) and not very good overall. Kinda longish. I don't know how food shelters work so bear with me. Italics are thoughts. EXCESSIVE USE OF COMMAS

You walked down Winter street cursing every divine entity you've ever know. You stop every now and then to stop and catch your breath. Small puffs of air released from your mouth. You were angry at your parents for making to volunteer at the youth shelter or whatever it was. You remember your parents belittling you for not wanting to help those who need it and calling you an ungrateful brat which led to an hour arguement on the dinner table. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, flickering you eyes towards the building you were now standing in front of. It's paint cracked and peeling. The brown colour made you wrinkle your nose. They should really choose a more appealing colour for this dumpster fire. You reach in your pocket for your phone and look at the time. Guess I still have a few minutes. You decide to go in early to know what your job was.

As soon as you enter you are met with the heavy, tired gazes of about a dozen homeless people who you guessed arrived early to find themselves a place to sit. You look at the floor and try to move as stealthily as you could towards the counter area. The head of the shelter was there trying to explain the best way to not burn soup to another volunteer. Who the fuck burns soup? You unaware of what to do, just stand towards the side waiting for the woman to notice you. A few minutes of awkward standing later she turns around. Her face looks startles at first, but suddenly gives you a very fake smile, it was more of a leer. She asks you if you were here to volunteer. Well duh, but you clear your throat nervously and just give her a few shaky nods. She claps her hands and instructs you to go outside so you can direct and homeless people to come inside and take a seat whilst they wait for food because there was a minor setback. Easy enough.

You go outside and lean against the wall. Only a few moments later a group of men walk about. "Good morning sirs. Please go inside and sit on the available seats. The food might be late because there was a minor setback, but feel free to make yourself comfortable," you smiled. The men have you the smallest of nods and went inside mumbling to eachother. No matter what people said homeless people were not useless or wasted. They were one of the most accepting people in the world in your opinion. You directs more people for nearly 15 minutes before you heard the kitchens head announce that the food was ready. You stayed outside to direct more people until there were no more people in sight. You told the head of this, but she told you that people often came late because they had no idea of what the exact time was. I immediately understood and resumed my position outside the building.

A few more minutes of watching the sunset passed, until you heard someone clear their throat. You whipped your gaze around until you were face to face with a person. They had green hair with dark roots and a slightly tanned complexion with a few freckles dotted around their nose. They were dressed from head to toe in green and pink clothes: battered rose high tops, skinny like green corduroy pants, a pink-and-green argyle sweater-vest over a white tee and another pink cashmere sweater wrapped around the waist like a kilt. But what intrigued me most was their eyes: one was pale amber and the other was a dark brown. They stared into my (e/c) ones. I guess I stared at them for too long because they cleared their throat and took a step back, smirking slightly. Oh yeah I had to socialize. Fuck. "If you're here for the food that you can go inside and wait or if you're here to kill the head of this shelter please invite me," I drawled. The person game me a small smile, "Unfortunately, babe, I'm here for the food." I mumbled a curse and met their eyes and flourished my hand towards the door. However instead of of stepping inside they lingered, leaning against the wall. Giving me a sidelong glance they said, "What are your pronouns?" The question surprised me, I wasn't used to people actually wanting to talk to me, nevermind a person I'd just met. "[Your pronouns]," I replied. "What about you?" The person's eyes flickered towards my face for a fraction of a second, the looked as surprised as I was that we were having a civilized conversation, "You can call me she/her until I tell you otherwise." I hummed in response. After a few seconds of silence (I couldn't tell if it was comfortable or not) the door opened and the head of the kitchen appeared, her forehead shining with sweat. She gave the girl who I had an actually conversation with (yes, I'm proud of myself. These things are petty rare when you're me) a big wide smile which looked faker than [insert something that's very fake]. "Good Morning, sir. Get in line before the food runs out. You wouldn't want that would you?" She gave the girl a very plastic, patronizing smile. The girl didn't smile back instead looked very uncomfortable. I stepped in, " Actually their pronouns are she/her right now, until they tell you otherwise. The woman scrunched up her face in disgust, turning on her heel and marching towards the kitchen where she proceeded to help lat someone for God knows what. The girl turned towards me and gave me another small smile, "I owe you one." I gave them a smile and retorted, "how about you give me your name and we call it even?" The person looked away before gazing back to me, "It's Alex..." My grin grew bigger and I held out me hand. "It's nice to meet you, Alex."

#alex fierro #alex fierro x reader #magnus chase #magnus chase x reader #samirah al abbas #samirah al abbas x reader #fangirls #fangirls r misunderstood #fiction #fictional crushes #fandoms

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