#this prompt list has a lot of stuff that inspired me for fics so 👀 in my posting my writing era PERHAPSE...

[bobmckenzie]

Let Me Help ⇢ selfshipvember day 3

word count: ~2000 (I swear this was supposed to be like 1k max idk how this happened LOL) blurb: Bob hurts himself getting a snack, and Caitie helps patch him up when she learns about his dizziness around blood. tw: blood/scar/general wound talk, (almost) fainting

Hockey just wasn’t the same without a snack, but the McKenzie house was low on anything good. The crackers Bob’d been eating were stale and boring, and needed something—he hated to leave his spot on the couch next to Caitie, but remembered there was a block of cheese in the fridge that might still be good and headed off to the kitchen to slice some, hoping he wouldn’t miss any goals.

He should’ve waited for a commercial break, since he was still trying to poke his head around the corner and catch a glimpse of the TV as he worked—Bob winced when the blade caught his thumb, a little groan of pain escaping him as the knife in his left hand clattered to the floor, gaze shooting to his other hand as he mentally scolded himself. He was preparing what was probably the world's simplest snack, and yet he’d managed to screw it up.

Beads of blood were already blooming on the wound, and Bob’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. He could handle pain well enough, but blood…

He tore his gaze away, turning to reach for the nearby roll of paper towels, but his vision was getting fuzzy, darkness looming around the edges. The roll slipped out of his grasp, knocking a mug into the sink, dishes clanging.

Doug called out sarcastically from the living room, though he sounded much farther away. “Who knew someone could be so loud getting cheese, eh?” 

In the other room, Caitie smiled but rolled her eyes at Doug’s remark and stood up from the couch to see what Bob was up to, or if maybe he needed some help. Truthfully, she was there more to hang out with him than to watch hockey—and maybe was hoping to stay late enough that he’d nod off and fall asleep on her shoulder like he had just last week.

She was so into the thought that she barely noticed as Doug said something about a commercial break and stood up to rush to the bathroom. But the hopeful little daydream she was having was cut short as soon as she stepped into the kitchen—Bob was leaning against the counter, white as paper as blood trailed down from his thumb to his palm. 

“Oh my god–!” She started heading to grab a chair from the little table by the window so he could sit, but saw him sway and rushed over to put her arms around him instead. She wasn’t strong enough to hold him up when his body was dead weight like this, but her support helped lead him down to the floor a little more gently.

“Bob?” She asked, eyes scanning from his injury to his face, which she quickly took in her hands, trying to get those glazed eyes to look at her. The cut didn’t seem too bad—she could tell the bleeding was slowing to a stop already. Everything else was worrying her far more, her heart pounding at the sight of him, and not for the usual reasons. “Doug!” she called, but got no response.

“‘Mm'okay…” Bob mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. He meant it, too—something about his arm slinged over her shoulder, and her hands on his face, was making everything come back into focus. “Jus’... gimmie a minute…”

“Can you look at me?” She was pretty sure that was one of the things you were supposed to ask in a situation like this. In her fainting spells in the past, anyway, once she closed her eyes it was usually lights out. “Maybe you should lie down.”

“No, really, I’m okay.” He blinked his eyes open, looking at her like she asked—hey, if he had to look anywhere, he liked this view most of all. And it wasn’t every day he had an excuse to be this close to her. “It’s just… bleedin’ makes me kinda…” He shrugged, heat crawling up his neck at the admission. “I never been good with it, s’all.”

She gave him a soft smile, glad to see some of his color returning. “I think it’s stopping, if that makes you feel any better. Let me help you get it clean and everything—Do you have a first-aid kit?”

He snorted a little, shrugging, trying to play it off like it was a silly question—the truth was with her looking at him all doe-eyed, holding him that gently, he just couldn’t think straight enough to be sure if there was one in the house or not. “I don’t think so, eh.”

She laughed a little, relieved to see him acting more and more like himself. “I have some band-aids in my bag—lemee grab a couple, and then I’ll clean it.” 

His smile faltered, brow furrowing a little, stomach twisting with guilt—she was being too nice to him, and he was ruining her night because he was a klutz who couldn’t handle the sight of blood. “Caitie, y’know, you don’t gotta do all that. I’ll be fine—”

“I’m getting the band-aids.” She took his face a little more firmly in her hands, looking at him pleadingly. “Don’t try to get up yet, okay? Please?” 

He was too tired to come up with some sort of quip, though he wished he could think of something to stop her from taking her hands off his face, to have her sit there with him just a little longer. “Okay.”

She gave him a gentle little pat on the cheek before picking his arm up off her shoulders and standing up, heading back to the living room. He kept his eyes trained on the table at the other end of the room, not wanting to risk another glance at his thumb. He didn’t want her to have to worry about him again if she came back and found him all woozy, or worse, out cold.

She was back in just a few seconds, two individually wrapped plasters in her hand. Hosehead trailed in behind her, pausing for a second to look at Bob before heading over to his foodbowl, clearly not too concerned.

“How’re you feeling now? Less faint?” Caitie asked as she tucked the bandages into her pocket, standing beside him to use the sink.

He squirmed a little at the questions, her voice so genuine and caring. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over him like this. He nodded, looking up to see her washing her hands. “Lots better, eh.”

“I’m not sure how to… Oh! I have an idea.” Reaching for one of the cabinets, she pulled out a bowl. The next thing he knew she was handing the pull-out faucet from the sink down to him. “Hold this for me?”

He took it, understanding dawning on him as she reached for the soap and finally sat next to him again, setting everything on the floor beside them—she didn’t want him standing yet, so she was bringing the sink to him to wash the cut. 

“Can I take your hand?” She met his eyes, continuing as he nodded, “It might sting a little.”

“‘S’okay.” If there was anyone he trusted to be gentle, it was her. For good reason, obviously—she took his hand softly in both of hers, her touch careful and slow. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles, butterflies blooming in his stomach at the sensation. “Guess you must think I’m like, a total wuss now, eh?” he joked to distract himself from how tender she was being with him, how close she was, the softness of her skin and the fact that he could smell the scent of her perfume—she was wearing the one that always reminded him of apples.

She smiled, briefly meeting his eyes over the frames of her glasses before her attention returned to his hand. “I know you better than that.” She rolled up the sleeve of his flannel so it wasn’t in the way. “And lots of people get unsteady around blood.”

“S’usually just when it’s me who’s bleedin’,” he explained, feeling her gently spread soap over the wound. “I do okay when like, the other guys on the team get a nosebleed or somethin’. But when it’s me, and it happens out of the blue like that…” He shrugged, flushing again, wondering why he was even saying any of this when it sounded so lame. “I dunno. It started when I was a kid—Doug and I was fightin’ one day in the living room, and I ended up fallin’ on the coffee table. I had this big gash on my shoulder and had t’go get stitches, but Doug was still mad at me and kept tellin’ me all these lies on the ride to the hospital about how much blood there was, and that he could like, see my bones coming out—‘cause I couldn’t really see back there, y’know?”

“Sounds like Doug.” Her tone was light, though the story made her heart clench a little. She shook her head, understanding perfectly well why that might’ve messed with his head. “He’s lucky I don’t go and barricade him in the bathroom.”

Bob laughed, still not looking at his thumb even as she took the faucet from his other hand to rinse the soap off over the bowl. He kept his gaze on her face, finding distractions in the way she looked so focused, so careful. “He said he was sorry, so.” He shrugged a shoulder. “‘S’not his fault it freaked me out so bad. Or that I was too stupid to know he was lyin’.”

He was so forgiving, she thought, gently drying the wound with a paper towel. And way too hard on himself. “You were a kid.”

“Hmm.” Bob hummed noncommittally. He stayed quiet as she took out the band-aids and finished up, overlapping them in a crisscross that made them feel extra secure on his finger. Finally he looked down, wiggling his thumb a little, all traces of blood gone. “Good as new, eh? Thanks, Caitie.”  The word didn’t seem like enough, but was all he could think to say. If he tried to say something else, something more, he’d probably just make an even bigger hose of himself.

“No problem—it feels okay and everything?” When he nodded, she bumped her knee against his. “You never finished your story—was your shoulder okay?”

His face lit up, eyebrows raising. “See for yourself, eh,” he said, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his flannel so he could push the collar down far enough to show his shoulder. 

It was silly, she knew, but she couldn't stop herself from blushing at the sight of the exposed skin, the hair on his chest and a few little freckles on his upper arm she'd never gotten the chance to notice before. He turned so she could see the three inch scar right above his shoulder blade, raised and pale from time. 

“Looks like it hurt.” Her hand moved, wanting to touch, to run her fingertips over the skin, but she pulled it back before she could fall victim to the whim. “Did the stitches hurt? I’ve never had any.”

“Well…” He smiled as he adjusted his shirt back onto his shoulder, but it was a sheepish, embarrassed smile that almost looked more like a grimace. “I don’t really know. Turns out that sorta thing makes me pass out too. Thought maybe I grew out of that one, but…” He hesitated, but lifted a hand to brush his hair back from his forehead with an embarrassed chuckle, exposing the little scar at his hairline. “Got this one during a game two seasons ago and found out pretty fast that I didn’t. I was all stitched up ‘fore I even came to.”

“Well, you handle band-aids pretty well,” she joked.

He laughed, moving to stand. “C’mon. Let's go before we miss the whole game, eh.”

“Oh—” She stood up, quickly wrapping an arm around him. “Not too fast.”

“Caitie—” He was about to tell her it wasn’t necessary, that he wasn’t feeling lightheaded at all anymore—then wondered why on earth he’d do that when she was up against his side again, holding onto him and letting him rest his head against her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

He smiled up at her. “Thanks.”

[margridarnauds]

fanfic writer emoji ask: ✍ 🎢 👀

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

For a while, I did, and they were and are great (we have not had a falling out! We are still friends!), but real life kind of got in the way for both of us, and that's fine. Sometimes, I do miss having someone look over my stuff so that I know I don't sound insane, but it's fine.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

I feel like "wildest ride" could mean so many different things. Like, content wise, just on the basis of it existing? ABSOLUTELY A Soft October Night, mainly because I don't think I'd ever gone as far as "Incest Murder Threesome" before. (I will make no promises that I won't do so AGAIN, but it definitely is a shocker from the usual.)

Though this is ALSO from the same creative team that brought you "Romeo has sex with the personification of Death on a crucifix" and "Ronan and Lazare have sex on a printing press" (which seems MUCH tamer compared to the other two), so, really, you can pick your poison.

As far as plot? Either The Midnight Mass or Pour la Peine, depending on if you think "Ronan discovers his old friends are zombies that want to kill him" or "The Thing that happens in Pour la Peine that changes the whole plot" is more shocking. (Personally, I am still REALLY proud of that twist in PLP, since I'd sat on that for years.)

If you're talking about in a crackficky sense? ...I mean. Goosefic. Goosefic. The fic that solidified my reputation in the 1789 fandom. If I say so myself, every single fic I've listed before that has some larger motivation for why it's Like That. Goosefic was just me reading a writing prompt and thinking "I want Lazare to get chased by a pissed off goose." And it is beautiful.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I don't think it's a SECRET I'm working on writing out my playthrough of BG3, or at least. Key parts of it. (I am NOT. Novelizing. An 125 hour playthrough. Yet.) I have about 11k words into it at the moment, but I'm not publishing a word of it until it's in a place where I know I can very likely finish it, or at least make a dent. We are NOT doing that thing where I just publish one chapter, hit a major bout of writer's block, and can't go through with it. (I can't make any promises for AFTER one chapter.)

It deals, primarily, with Kitrye's Happy Fun Times in the game, her ongoing verbal game of cat and mouse with Raphael, her relationship with her sister, and her relationship with her culture, as well as her overall development during the course of the game. (I don't really consider it a spoiler, given I put it in an actual gifset, that Kitrye breaks her oath as a paladin at one point -- there is a LOT dedicated to the circumstances around that and how it changes the game, even though that's a late development.) A spoiler that literally only you and a couple of people will understand and so I can give without any worry is:

"Ich will dich nicht, ich brauch' dich nicht. GEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

(Honestly, thus far, it's looking like how I'm writing out every act is taking inspiration from something else. Like, if Pour la Peine and its related stories drew a lot of inspiration from the Evilious Chronicles, I would say that the third act in particular is very, very Elisabeth tinted if you know where to look; second act is looking to have at least one scene inspired by a very memorable moment from one of the branches of the Mabinogi; and the first act, which is still the roughest, is a little bit more up in the air, with all of them borrowing at least a LITTLE bit from The Last Trial.)

Of course. It would be much easier to work on it. IF I HAD MY GAMING PC THAT COULD RUN THE GAME SO I COULD DOUBLE CHECK MY FILES. MY CUSTOM MADE GAMING PC THAT I CHOSE EVERY SINGLE PART FOR SO THAT IT COULD BE A MONSTER AT RUNNING GAMES.

(I'm cool, I'm chill, I'm fine.)

Anyway, have the Symryvvin girls, out of context. (Malla 🤝 Raphael: Being in an eternal state of Done.)

[theclearwaters]

ok so I’m not caught up on ‘between who you are and who you could be’ yet but this story has me in a chokehold. it is SO good. I haven’t been this affected by a fic in years, and every time I read it I get so inspired to do better at writing my own twilight fanfic because you do it so effortlessly.

you absolutely don’t have to answer this at all, but do you have any general writings tips for twilight fanfic writers, especially fics with characters who aren’t given much in canon like leah?

you don’t have to answer this ask at all. I hope you’re having a wonderful day!

Anon 🥺🥺 I have been writing a Blackwater breakup chapter all evening, and I am drained, but this is what finally set me off. I have never had one of these before 😭

(I wrote this all and then realised it was really long, so hold on. I’ll collapse it.)

Leah and Leland/Lee are my favourite to write, and I think if you really love something that much (prepare for the slight cliche) then that comes across on the page. It shouldn’t be a slog to write! I also read and review a lot, and that definitely encourages people to check out your profile. And like you said, reading definitely gives me inspiration and makes me think about my own fics.

You are really kind and I’m a bit overwhelmed, can you tell?? 🥲🥲

The Blackwater ‘ship is bigger than I knew. Most notably (on FFn, at least) you’ll find sentinel10, Austwigirl, Jacobleah, Aunt Bran, Silverfires, CatTheWall, Babaksmiles, InesSL, PastOneonta, scifiromance, who are *huge* Leah stans (and writers) and will always leave a review. I will die happily if you’re in that list.

There is also hyacinthed on AO3/FFn (definitely check them out for Leah/Jacob and Leah/Quil) who is out of this world and recently gave me some technical tips for posting new chapters, which has definitely boosted my audience in the last day alone. Don’t mind the copy and paste:

-ppl tend to be more loyal to fics with a predicted total chapter count (something definite rather than ?), even if u update the estimated count during the fic

-there's particular times to post if you wanna be popular but who cares idk google that if u care

-on the top ribbon, click browse > collections, and you can search for collections of fics that come under a certain theme. posting to a collection can help u get more traffic, or you can make your own

-browse > collections > filters > prompt meme challenge allows u to check out collections of prompts that you can then write a fic about and link it to the group, really helps w traffic and inspo

I’ve also noticed from posting a few ‘M’ fics recently that they draw in a waaaaaay different audience. Also, because you have to specifically set that filter to see the fics, they don’t get nearly as many hits as Between Who You Are and The Garage, for example, which is rated ‘T’. But you probably already know this stuff. I’m a bit of a twat and have only recently learned. What do I know, I just live in my own world and post.

I mean, that’s only scratching the surface?!?! I will talk Leah/Leland/Jacob/Julie all day with you if given the chance. (I am riveriver#0001 on Discord 👀)

I hope that answers at least some of what you were asking.

Maybe try being a panster?? It’s a wild ride. I started BWYA with knowing what I wanted to happen and how I wanted it to end, and not much else. And now we’re 140K+ into it and barely halfway through the main plot points of Eclipse 😳🤯

Seriously, though. You’re the best and turned around my whole day.