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#fic writing shenanigans

attiredpan · 4 months

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Giving Amy and Nog the growth and maturity of looking in retrospect and recognizing what wasn’t healthy while having Jake play unintentional matchmaker>>>>>>>>

#pan shut up #nog ds9 #oc | amelia hayes #jake sisko #oc x canon #they’re fucking dorks. all three of them #and I love them #fic writing shenanigans

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henrysglock · 10 months

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me and paper faces 😭😭😭

#paper faces #fic writing shenanigans

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redleavesinthewind · 5 days

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writing fiction and i need to remind myself that no, not every sentence needs a reference and no, i don't have to write "do not" instead of don't

#the shit academic writing does to you. get your head out of uni elliot #pigeon coos #fic writing shenanigans

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thebisexualmandalorian · 2 months

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Writing Pattern Tag Game

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern! (I’d take it literally and just do the first sentence but if I feel like it works better with the first two sentences, that's what you'll get. Keeping this from flammen, bc agreed)

Anyone feel free to tell me what themes y'all see!

Feeling - FFVII Rebirth (READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU CLICK) Cloud is trapped, and he’s never hated anything more. He can see and hear and feel everything, and the hands stroking over his body are his, but they aren’t under his control.

Heart Family - One Piece Rosinante looks over the boys asleep sprawled over each other, and he sighs. He should bring Sanji somewhere safe and leave him there, but he can’t bring himself to let go of the little ray of determined sunshine now.

Forgiveness - One Piece “You scare me, Ace.” Marco’s voice is barely above a whisper, and he looks so, so tired. Has he slept at all?

dégagé - One Piece Sanji knows how to hide. He’s very, very good at it by now.

Distance, Distance Keeps You Safe - Resident Evil Leon sits alone in his hotel room, like he usually does, with a fifth of mid-priced bourbon, like he usually does. It’s a familiar enough routine that he can feel the feeling starting to return to his hands, the booze steadying them as the adrenaline slowly fades into memories and nothingness.

Mama - One Piece Mother. It’s what Cora-san calls himself, and while Law can’t quite bring himself to say it - there’s still too much unresolved grief around using that title out loud, even a decade and a half later - he hopes he knows that he wants to.

Heavy Heart to Carry - One Piece Ace wakes up. He wishes he hadn't.

bad behavior but you do it in the best way - One Piece Shanks is a whirlwind in Buggy’s life. He always has been, since they were just a couple of fucked up foster kids growing up together, and now that they’re in high school, Shanks is always finding new ways to stress him out.

Monster - One Piece “I’d kill him, if you let me,” Zoro says, tracing a scar over Sanji’s back. What’s the use of being the world’s greatest if he can’t even take this pound of flesh for someone he loves?

Under the Surface - One Piece The first time Ace gets a good look at what lurks under the surface in Sabo is after Marineford. He’d always known Sabo is like him, but while Sabo saw him in both forms plenty of times in Goa, he’s never gotten to see what Sabo can shift into.

Tagging anyone who wants to!

#my fanfic #fic writing shenanigans

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ghostbsuter · 8 months

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There was a teen in the cave.

A teen no one knows and looks like he could be a wayne, stands in the cave.

"Actually, I'm a wayne." He says with a shrug.

Bruce, Batman, carefully thinks of the implication.

"Not yet," The teen, Danny, doesn't say anything. Simple smiles. "You're not a wayne, yet. You will be. But not yet."

Then Bruce sighs, dropping the batman mask in order to take in the teen.

"Does future me know of the time travel?"

Dannys smile grows into a grin, deciding to take pity on the man. "You, grandbat, have..." He makes a vague gesture. "Theories, which none of your children ever confirmed."

The bat's mind short-circuits at the choice of words

Dick is sputtering incomprehensibly, there are Baffled expression all around.

Because.

Because that child isn't Bruce's, but one of theirs.

"Who is it?" Jason demands, hand clenching his gun uselessly.

Danny continues to smile, a hint of mischief now peeking out.

The cave is filled with theories, some yell, some sob, yet all eyes leave danny.

All but one pair.

She had known the moment his body language switched just enough for her to read.

She had known the moment he disappeared before the clan.

Had known when his hand found hers, shoulders bumping.

Her heart clenches, throat dry and memories of her childhood flooding to mind.

So she asks, voice soft and hesitant.

"Am I a good mother?"

And danny looks up at cass, adoration and pride laid out plain for her to see and accept.

"You're the best."

And so they both watch the clan together, silent and comfortable.

(Cass doesn't question when she finds him, how and why. All she knows is that she's more attentive when out on patrol, looking and waiting.)

(This is how Cassandra Cain-Wayne returns one night from patrol, a child, barely out of toddler stage and clinging to her form.)

(This is how the Batclan officially meets one Daniel James Cain-Wayne, freshly washed and clothed, a cookie in hand and hiding shyly behind Cass.)

(When they meet, all they say is "Welcome home, danny," and "Good to see you again.", Danny doesn't necessarily get it, but that's okay. Maybe his new mom will explain it one day when he's bigger.)

#dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #cassandra cain is dannys mom #time travel shenanigans lead to conspiracy theories #half of the batclan think jason is the dad #or dick #damian and tim are outruled just bc age and tim denying it with no one protesting #alfred knows #danny moves like cass #he gave them both a cookie in the shadows #danny won him over by calling him great grand bat #he tells him of all the mischief they got up to bc no one would believe the baby had alfie wrapped around his finger like that #theyre just in denial #theyre all wrapped around the finger #danny “i mastered how to wrpaonize my cuteness” cain-wayne

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hephaestiions · 1 month

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“What the fuck is this?”

Potter, in a fit of rage, is quite the sight to behold. Magic sizzles around him, errant curls escape his lazy bun, spectacles sit a touch too crooked on his nose.

Draco sips his tea. “A transfer request.”

“For Merlin’s sake—“ Potter rubs the bridge of his nose, a tell Draco’s learnt to mean he’s confused and scattered, and entirely unwilling to admit it. “I can read, Malfoy. Why?”

“Article 9, Section 3 of the Auror Code of Conduct—“

“No,” Potter cuts him off. “Absolutely not.”

Draco puts his tea down.

“I wouldn’t have thought,” he begins, slow and careful, “that you’d have already forgotten— what we did. Right in this office, in fact.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Potter says. The transfer request is crumpling in his fist.

“Then you also remember it’s against the rules for us to remain partners—“

Potter stalks closer, until he’s towering over Draco’s desk. Draco’s mouth is desert-dry.

“Fuck the rules,” he says. This close, his scar always takes Draco by surprise, stark and ridged and white, cutting across his forehead and the top of his cheekbone. This close, now and every other time, he’s a riot of messy intensity. Draco can’t look away. “Merlin, Draco, when have I given a fuck about the rules? You leave me, I leave the MLE, there’s no point—”

“Potter,” Draco says. He’s weak and has never resisted temptation well. It’s no surprise this is all it takes for him to reach and cup Harry’s jaw, jittery thumb catching on the stubble shadowing his cheek. “Harry, I’m not that special.”

“Tell me you’re doing this because you think you have to,” Harry says, quiet and low. “Tell me you felt like you must, and not because you— because you want to get away from me. If it’s that, then I won’t stand in—“

“Don’t be silly.” It comes out sharp and affectionate, and Harry’s shoulders relax a little. “Nobody—“ he swallows, “—nobody else I’d trust to get my coffee order right, is there?” A flicker of a smile. Draco’s spirit sings. “Or—“ he says, huge and irrevocable and far too honest, “have my back in a fight. Only. It’s only you, isn’t it?”

Harry’s hand comes up, covers Draco’s where it still rests, trembling and uncertain on his cheek. He pulls it away, and for a split second Draco almost panics, until he realises Harry is lacing their fingers together, grip tight.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Harry says. “The— us.” His mouth ghosts over Draco’s knuckles, warm and soft and plaintive. “I wanted it so long, Draco.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Draco acquiesces.

They stare at each other, long, silent moments, breaths heavy.

“I’ll stay,” Draco nods eventually. “Of course I’ll stay, all you had to do was ask, just, say something Potter. Don’t you know that?”

Harry lights up with a grin so broad Draco wants to taste it, dip his tongue into it, merge his mouth with—

But Harry’s stepping back, towards the dustbin in the corner. Draco has a moment of confusion before Harry straightens out the transfer request still bunched in his grip and rips it to pieces. The parchment flutters, confetti-like, to the floor.

“You’re stuck with me,” Harry says, serious and determined, even though the smile hasn’t quite left his mouth. “Right here.”

“Where else—“ Draco clears his throat when the words come out raspy and tangled, “Harry. Where else would I possibly want to be?”

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “pieces”. dipping my toes back in here after years and i could not stop thinking about messy auror partners!

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #draco malfoy #harry potter #hpdm #hpdm fanfic #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #auror partners #workplace shenanigans #geets tries to get back into writing

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ao3-shenanigans · 7 months

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(Resigned, Though Not to Fate by inkfingersmcgee)

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #fandom #tma #tma fic rec #ao3 author notes #(rereading on of my favorites)#ao3 shenanigans

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———