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ficwritersretreat · 24 days

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FIC WRITERS' RETREAT 2024

Registration Now Open!

WE'RE BACK TO ANNUAL, EVERYONE!!! Seventh Ontario Fic Writers' Retreat, first held in 2016, coming once again in 2024.

To Register, Click Here

When: August 8-11 2024

Where: Blue Mountain Chalets, Collingwood, Ontario

What is it? Four days spent with other fic writers, at all levels of experience. There will be a mix of workshops (Topics TBA and open to suggestions), prompts and challenges, and plenty of independent writing time for your own personal projects. (This year there's also a hot tub and an optional trip to the beach!)

It’s also an opportunity to make connections with people who share your interests and passions, and where you can focus on your own goals and creativity.

Cost (in CANADIAN DOLLARS): $450.00

(approximately $332 USD as of this posting)

Here’s what you get for it:

Food Costs (with all participants helping with prep and cleanup - see note below)

Accommodation (Shared rooms but NOT shared beds - sorry)

Use of a hot tub and sauna at this year's venue (New this year!)

Daily workshops and writing sessions (2+ per day)

Registration fee included in the price

Registration Process:

Click on the Registration Link, above.

Complete the form and submit it.

Select a payment option: a) e-transfer (Canadian residents only) or b) PayPal (link in registration form)

Make your deposit of $225 CAD (50% of total cost) to complete your registration

Second payment is due on July 9, 30 days before the retreat begins.

Space will be allocated on a first-come, first served basis. There are 24 spaces available, after which names will be placed on a waiting list (no payment will be required unless you are offered a spot).

Travel to Toronto is not included.

However, since several participants (and the organizer) live in the area, we have always been able to arrange ride-shares from the Toronto Airport to the various venues. These connections will be arranged after registration.

Contact me with any questions! Or see the FAQ Page

***A note regarding meals: They'll look a little different this year - we'll be making our own! The venue is a pair of summer chalet/cottage spaces with full kitchens. All participants will be asked to take part in making meals happen - either for planning, picking up groceries, preparation or clean-up. The cost of the food is included in the price.

Tags under the cut. Let me know if you want to be tagged in this. If you’re not tagged it’s because I didn’t know you were interested. (Or I used an old list and forgot, or I thought you'd asked to not be tagged - correct me if I was wrong!) It's not because we don't want you! Please come.

@totallysilvergirl @blogstandbygo @addictedstilltheaddict @onwallsjcfwrites @amindamazed @fearlessdiva930 @cirquedereve @antheiasilva @inevitably-johnlocked @pippn-frodo @stellacartography @muaddib-iswriting @keirgreeneyes @missdaviswrites @nautilicious @otter-von-bismarck @mydogwatson @pipmer @aquabelacqua @may-shepard @pippn-frodo @weneedtotalkaboutfilms-blog @shirleycarlton @daringlydomestic @quesarasara @laughing-at-the-darkness @ellipsical-elle @fluffbyday-smutbynight @kettykika78 @vulgarweed @hellonewsletter @atlinmerrick @podfixx @stellacartography @1-800-get-sherlocked @thegildedbee @letteredlettered @inexplicifics @storyshark2005 @tiger-in-the-flightdeck @seriouslymarythough @anyawen @topsyturvy-turtely @noadventureshere221b @gay-pirate-anime @simpledontmeanpeachy @helloliriels @hopipp @masked-alias @doctornerdington

#fic writers' retreat #fic writers' retreat 2024 #fic retreat 2024

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stellacartography · 9 months

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Yes, I write fanfiction. Why? Because corporations now own our modern mythologies, and they're not especially interested in doing the things that mythologies are intended to do, like explore the big questions of life, death, love and loss. Some of them do cover that territory, of course. But in the pursuit of money, a lot of that important exploration gets left out. And that's where fanfic writers come in.

- Laura W. @joyful-voyager

@keirgreeneyes @antheiasilva @cirquedereve @blogstandbygo @pippn-frodo @onwallsjcfwrites @fearlessdiva930 @amindamazed

#fanfiction

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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Hi! I was wondering if you could provide any recs for stories that show Draco being redeemed with character growth and unlearning all of his biases (also with slow burn Drarry, and Harry starting out disliking him for being canonically terrible)? I have already read all of lettered's and astolat's works, which I really enjoyed as good examples of this.

Hi anon! Ahh yes love me some Lettered and Astolat, especially the fab duo By the Grace & Heal Thyself — both have incredible Draco arcs. I think these 2 stories (and authors) explore the immediate post-war/ Draco redemption combo flawlessly, and it’s really hard to find similar fics. Aideomai focuses on 8th year but is also great at writing young, traumatized and emotionally stunted Drarry navigating the post-war reality and their feelings. Here are some other fics that came to mind:

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by punk_rock_yuppie (T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Here Be Dragons by birdsofshore (E, 22k)

Harry doesn’t want to waste his time investigating illegal dragonhide trading, whether it involves a fetish club in Knockturn Alley or visiting a remote island in Wales. Why the bloody hell does Malfoy always have to be up to something?

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 29k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

measures of our days and nights by flimsy (E, 40k)

Draco returns to London to help the Ministry decipher a spell, but things aren’t quite as simple as they seem.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Such Great Heights by aideomai (E, 93k)

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Thank you @amindamazed for adding:

The Man Who Lived by sebastianL (E, 254k)

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee. Set in New York twelve years after the war.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #enemies to lovers #redemption arc

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beanarie · 7 months

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PEOPLE I WANNA KNOW BETTER

tagged by @twofrontteethstillcrooked thank you! it made me smile

LAST SONG?

i don't remember what was on my playlist when i closed spotify this evening, but waterloo station by the kinks is what's in my head right now

FAVORITE COLOR?

teal. i own so many teal things it's almost embarrassing.

CURRENTLY WATCHING?

harley quinn, starting with a rewatch of s3 and then catching up on s4. i love this show so much it is so much better than it has any right to be

LAST MOVIE?

ruby gillman: teenage kraken. cute but forgettable.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY?

i feel like i could go longer without spicy and savory than i could without sweet

RELATIONSHIP STATUS?

single

CURRENT OBSESSIONS?

mike's mic and his absolutely ridiculous unhinged recaps. his utter disgust at himself for saying "they've got their chussies out" is unmatched.

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED?

ny renaissance faire hi @girlfan

tagging @girlfan @sanguinarysanguinity @amindamazed @nairobiwonders and anyone who'd like to!

#personal

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shirleycarlton · 2 years

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New Caught In The Act ficlet!

So yeah, I actually managed to write another one, over 7 years after starting this series! LOL.

Here it is:

Sex Ed on the Fly

Pairing: johnlock

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2208

Summary: When John’s five-year-old daughter walks in on them and asks them what they’re doing, John is mortified to the depth of his bones. Sherlock, however, calmly decides to answer her honestly – to John’s absolute astonishment. But within ten minutes, his lover has enlightened Chloe more than could be said about any sex ed he’d ever had, in a way that puts her mind at ease and gives her a basic but important understanding of what love is all about.

Tags: sex education for young children, avoiding misconceptions, talking about the basic principles of sex with a 5-year-old, Sherlock explaining it how it is, after John’s daughter walks in on them, it’s mostly funny, but he also explains consent on a more serious note, caught in the act, awkward situation, embarrassment, John is mortified, while his daughter is actually completely unbothered

[cover art by the wonderful @weneedtotalkaboutfic]

So I really wasn’t sure about this one, guys. When the idea of this story first came to me, I thought “Nah, I can’t write that”, but then I started anyway, just to see if it could be done, as a sort of writing experiment. I wanted it to be funny, but also serious (consent!!) and I think (hope) I managed that. However, I’m still a bit nervous about posting this. Especially to Americans, it’s probably shocking and outrageous to have adults openly talk about sex with a five-year old. Cultural differences are definitely A Thing. But seeing as not all of my readers are raised to see sexual relationships and nudity as an unthinkable subject to ever talk about (or in spite of that??), I decided to defy the taboo and just hit “post”, and just see whether people appreciate it or not.

(Please read it before judging.)

My secret hope is that this story will maybe show people the possibility of a situation where it’s okay to explain the basic principles to children in order to avoid horrible misconceptions that would scar them more than an open conversation would! (I seriously think misconceptions and lack of knowledge about sex are at the root of a lot of problems around sex... from STD’s and unwanted pregnancies to unhealthy power dynamics.)

Another doubt I had was whether to add this to the “Caught In The Act” series or not, as it deviates from the structure of the rest of those stories in the sense that this one is not written from the point of view of the person walking in on them, but from John's POV. In the end, I decided to add it to the series anyway, but give it a different sort of title to distinguish it from the rest. :)

Many thanks to @amindamazed for helping me find certain words and phrases that I wasn’t sure about, to @hubblegleeflower for her absolutely invaluable feedback on the story itself, and to all the rest of the folks at the Fic Writers’ Retreat who encouraged me to continue when I wasn’t sure I could or should! And special thanks also to @mama-orion , who reassured me that I’d handled the subject with the right amount of humour and tact, which made me slightly less nervous about posting this. :)

@weneedtotalkaboutfic @totallysilvergirl @fluffbyday-smutbynight @kettykika78 @mydogwatson @otter-von-bismarck @blogstandbygo

#johnlock #caught in the act series #my writing #new ficlet #sex ed #avoiding misconceptions

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time-converges · 1 year

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Comfort Movie Tag Game

rules: list your top ten favourite comfort flicks.

I was tagged by @smackalicious to do this. Thank you!

In no particular order...

Arrival

Pacific Rim

Speed

Sense and Sensibility

Edge of Tomorrow/Live Die Repeat/whatever title it has today (The Tom Cruise/Emily Blunt time loop movie)

The Peacemaker (The George Clooney/Nicole Kidman one)

Ever After

I know I'm missing some but that's all I can think of right now!

(If we were doing tv, it would be Babylon 5, The West Wing, ER, the X files, Alias, the Americans, and now The Last of Us.)

Tagging @teashadephoenix, @amindamazed, @beanarie, @wolfrhamhart, @quipxotic, @ageless-aislynn, @otherlil, and anyone else who wants to - I know I'm forgetting people! And if you'd rather to tv than movies, I'm not the boss of you. ;)

#@smackalicious #comfort movies

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possibility221 · 2 years

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Elementary Sherlock

failed fist bump: episode 1x04

failed back pat: episode 2x03

#Elementary #for @amindamazed #Joan Watson #Sherlock Holmes #fails

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sanguinarysanguinity · 4 years

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any or all of these from your WIP list: romantic partner worthy of Alfredo (!!!) . Marcus & Lin 221b. Elementary x 22nd Century of course. and I also love every bit of Langstroth I've seen, so more would be lovely.

He met Serena at a Lucille Ball retrospective, during a rooftop mixer the theater hosted to celebrate its first night of showings. Despite the wide mix of ages present — ironic twenty-somethings through white-haired elders who had loved Lucy since they were teenagers — the crowd ran light and white, as it often did at these things. Against that backdrop, she caught Alfredo’s eye immediately: a tall, dark-skinned woman, her hair cropped close to her skull, elegantly dressed in a gold waistcoat and black trousers, standing by herself near the machinery block for the building’s elevator. She was fiddling with her drink with the air of a woman who was second-guessing her choice to stay and mingle. Alfredo took his drink in hand — 7-up with a slice of lime, barely worth the trouble of drinking, but one had to drop a dime on something at the bar — and went to offer to keep her company. When Serena introduced herself, there was a touch of Spanish in her voice: Dominican, as it turned out. Alfredo’s Spanish wasn’t nearly as good as hers, but it was plenty enough to follow her sly teasing about Cubanos and to give back as good as he got.

"Soooooo," Joan said, when she had Marcus alone. "You and Lin?"

Marcus glanced up from his paperwork. "Me and Lin what?" He eyed Joan's teasing smile. "Because if she's looking for a place for the game, the back of the police station is out."

Joan blinked, taking a moment to place the reference. "Oh, c'mon, Lin is hardly Nathan Detroit."

"C'mon, yourself. We're got rules about fraternizing with criminals, you know that."

Joan made a dismissive noise. "Andre--"

"--is my brother. Furthermore, he saved my ass when Paula was trying to frame me for murder."

"And Lin's my sister!" Joan pointed out.

"And believe me, while I'd normally be all about asking if you had a sister..." He suggested the fineness of Joan Watson with a glance. She gave him a not-impressed face in return, and he inwardly shrugged.

Joan had been at the hotel several days when the communications console in the corner lit up and announced a visitor. She expected it to be Sherlock, frightened and angry about her silence, insistent on bringing her temporary reprieve to an end, and she hauled herself from the bed, trying to drum up the energy to fight him.

It was only the robot. It couldn’t see her -- the image was one-way until she chose to respond -- but its gaze was focused on the camera. A human might have fidgeted while waiting for a response, but it was immovably patient.

Joan glanced around her room, evaluating what tales it might take back to Sherlock, then asked the desk to wait fifteen minutes before sending it up. There wasn’t time for Joan to do much, but then there wasn’t much to be done: in a previous century, she might have made up her face as both armor and ruse, but she had nothing at her disposal beyond hotel toiletries. She straightened away the used tissues that had been accumulating -- she hadn’t had housekeeping in since she arrived -- and remade the bed. Then, exhausted by her short bout of industry, she settled in to wait for the robot’s knock.

“Miss Watson,” the compudroid said when she opened the door. It held its bowler hat in both hands. “Please forgive the intrusion.”

“What does Sherlock want?” she asked, unwilling to sham politeness for the thing.

The robot drew its head back a fraction of an inch. After a moment, it said, “I imagine that Holmes wants what we all want, to know that you are well. Or as well as you can be.”

Joan frowned at it. “Sherlock didn’t send you?”

The robot frowned back. “I inquired after your welfare, which is when I learned that you were not staying at 221B. I thought I would look in on you to see if there was anything you needed.”

Joan blinked. She had the distinct sense that the robot was making allowances for her.

“But,” it continued, “it is obvious that I have intruded, so begging your pardon, Miss Watson, I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait,” Joan said, feeling flat-footed. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Joan stepped back, opening the door for it. “Come in.”

To Joan’s surprise, the compudroid seemed to have no agenda beyond inquiring after her welfare, and when she evaded that question, it moved smoothly into attempting small talk about the weather and the hotel. When that failed to grab her attention, it offered her a rundown of the current status of the case. That nearly held her interest, until the effort to grasp the particulars in a sea of unfamiliar context became too much and she found herself idly watching the traffic again while the robot talked.

When the robot stood to leave, it asked, “May I tell Holmes how you are? I have no wish to compromise your privacy, but he’ll likely know I’ve been here.”

“The scent of the hotel shampoo or something. I’m aware.”

“He does not say, but he has been distracted by worry over you.” When Joan hesitated, the robot added, “You did say that his attention on the case was your foremost concern?”

Joan eyed the robot. “What will you tell him?”

“That you’re as well as can be expected, although one could always wish you were eating.” It cocked an eyebrow at her. “Of course, if I knew that you had eaten something, I wouldn’t need to mention the last.”

Joan looked at it a moment, then burst into laughter. Her startlement was the first spark of something real, something that wasn’t devastating pain, that she had felt in days.

The robot was unfazed. “Speaking as one non-practicing medical professional to another, I am sure you are aware of the value of nutrition as an emotional regulator.”

“You’re attempting to manipulate me.”

“On the contrary, I am merely concerned for your welfare, as I am for Holmes’.” Joan would almost swear she saw a glint in its eye. It was uncanny, how much like flesh its face was.

She glanced at the communications console. She had very little appetite. “Would you be satisfied to know that I had ordered something, or must you watch me eat it?”

The robot smiled. “I rely on your honor as a Watson.”

#wip meme #elementary #alfredo llamosa #marcus bell #lin wen #persistence of memory #long post #this is literally all there is of those first two wips #sadly I never got very far with them #I have gobs of material for persistence of memory #it occurs to me looking through it now #that I've since learned how to write casefic #if you keep on writing #eventually your skills catch up to your ambitions #langstroth is going to go in a separate post #as this one has gotten quite long enough #amindamazed

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blogstandbygo · 9 days

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Rache (German for Revenge)

How Sally began to distrust Sherlock Holmes, and how she started trusting him again.

@missdaviswrites

@fearlessdiva930

@amindamazed

@hubblegleeflower

@pippn-frodo

@quantum-sparrow

@weneedtotalkaboutfic

@addictedstilltheaddict

@prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart

@daringlydomestic

@totallysilvergirl

@pipmer

@otter-von-bismarck

@shirleycarlton

@onwallsjcfwrites

@shamelessmash

@stellacartography

@keirgreeneyes

@cirquedereve

@seriouslymarythough

@peanitbear

@missdeliadili

@topsyturvy-turtely

@safedistancefrombeingsmart

@lisbeth-kk

@thegirlfromthesouth

@ohnoesnotagain

@whodwantmeasaflatmate

@copperplatebeech

@keirgreeneyes

@whatnext2020

@helloliriels

@iamjustreading

@thegildedbee

@john-smiths-jawline

@gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

@thetimemoves

@jolieblack

@bs2sjh

@ghostofnuggetspast

#bbc sherlock #fanfiction

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ficwritersretreat · 11 months

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FIC WRITERS RETREAT 2023

WE ARE BACK, BABEY!

(registration info coming soon!)

For the first time since 2019, there will be a full-on FIC WRITERS RETREAT again in August of this year!!

August 10-13, to be exact. We've had a slight change of venue, so we'll be meeting in Oakville, Ontario this year. Final cost and registration process is still being finalized, but the ballpark is really similar to what it's been: roughly $450-$500 CANADIAN* that includes all meals from Thursday night to Sunday morning, 3 nights accommodation (private room in shared 2-person suite), and all conference expenses. You just have to get yourself there.

(*Current exchange rate with USD makes this $331-$368 US)

For those of you who don't know, this event started in 2016 where a whopping SEVEN (7) people got together in Barrie, Ontario for three days of writing, writing talk, fandom discourse, and general shenanigans. None of us knew each other, but this little handful of folks took a chance and started an amazing community that is still going strong. Subsequent years we had just on 20 participants on average, from all over. We survived a three year hiatus and are keen to get up and running again!

Every year we've met, we've had a great mix of familiar friends and new faces, and every new addition has been such a gift. Please feel free to scroll this blog and contact anyone who's come to the retreat before. If you like what you see, consider joining us this year!

I will tag all new posts with #fic retreat 2023 or you can follow this blog for updates.

I tried to get everyone tagged who should be tagged but I am looking at registration info from 2018 and 2019 for urls and some of you have gone and some of you have changed, and at least one of you has gone and changed. If you see a broken tag and you know how to fix it, please let me know and/or pass this on!

And of course, if you know someone who might be keen, let them know!

With extra tags and thanks to @antheiasilva and @blogstandbygo for so, so gently lighting lovely little fires under my ass to get this to happen!

@daringlydarlingdomesticic @blogstandbygo @laughing-at-the-darkness

@seriouslymarythough @maskedalias @mydogwatson @pipmerer @quantum-sparrowrow @conversationswithjohnlock

@may-shepardshepard @missdaviswrites @consultingpurplepants

@hiddenlacunana @aquabelacquabelacqua @totallysilvergirl @nautilicious @addictedstilltheaddict

@justacookieofacumberbatch

@iamjohnlocked4lifeife @chriscalledmesweetiemesweetie @snorklepiepie @weeesi @mauddib-iswriting @mkenglandland @shirleycarlton @vulgarweed @pippnfrod @antheiasilva

@disaronnus @hubblegleeflower @letteredlettered @fluffbyday-smutbynight @kettykika78 @amindamazed @pippn-frodo @fearlessdiva930 @weneedtotalkaboutfic

#fic retreat 2023 #fic retreat #fic writers retreat 2023 #please reblog

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stellacartography · 8 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks to @blogstandbygo for the tag! (Post here — such exciting WIPs!)

I am working on an E-rated Mystrade fic called Kinesis that has just hit the 80 K mark. I'll publish once I have an ending (and all the bits of connective tissue) written. In this one I fire Mycroft and throw him in a pond. This fic is not about fishing. Greg is a dad with a heart of gold! Sherlock and John are somewhat ambiguous in their togetherness! Mycroft is a bit of a berk but he still gets a happy ending. Even berks deserve happy endings sometimes.

I'm also working on a piece (or 8 or 9) for the @go-minisode-minibang. That should be out in the new year.

Currently shelved is a Johnlock x Flowers for Algernon AU set in Baskerville with a great experiment of dubious morality. I'll be returning to this one after Kinesis.

Tagging

@hubblegleeflower @fearlessdiva930 @amindamazed @ewebie @keirgreeneyes @cumberbatchedandgatissmitten

(Play along this week or next if you wish.)

#writing #Stella writes sometimes!#mystrade #sherlock fandom #good omens #fanfiction

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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oh my god. oh my god oh my god. i just read wild for the first time and it was just so beautiful, holy fuck. i loved it so much. thank you for the rec.

the bottom of the notes has a link to a coda that’s gone, and i know it’s been orphaned, but on the off chance that’s still out there somewhere and you know how to find it, i thought i’d ask. any ideas?

brb gonna cry and read it again and cry

Oh I’m SO PLEASED to hear that, anon! Wild is a crazy intense but lovely rollercoaster, I adore that take on Harry fucking off to Ireland, love his routine with the girls (such great OCs!) and his endless banter with Draco. They’re so funny together, the dialogue feels organic and real.

I’m happy that you found this fic through the blog, I usually think twice before reccing a well-known fic or author because I imagine everyone already knows it, but your ask proves that it can still be helpful. Thank you for letting me know you’ve loved it so much! Oh and about that coda fic, I think it might be this Linny piece?

Edit: thank you @amindamazed for linking a reblog of the short sequel here!

#asks #anon #wild

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sanspatronymic · 4 years

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amindamazed replied to your post “Taking a day off from packing and shipping (thanks, y’all!). How ‘bout...”

To Be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers and also Kip’s Monster by Harper Fox and American Hippo by Sarah Gailey

Okay, I’m hearing ‘queer speculative fiction,’ so how’s about:

Dawn by Octavia Butler

Lilith lyapo wakes up one morning, slightly-post apocalypse, to find herself a guest (prisoner?) aboard a ship piloted by a tri-gendered alien race. Butler is a master world-builder and the alien species/technology feel very fleshed out, in spite this book being less than 300 pages.

Gingerbread by Helen Oyeyemi

Consider this a stand-in for “everything Helen Oyeyemi has ever written.” She’s a queen. GINGERBREAD is her latest and, I think, my favorite of her novels (don’t make me choose!). Three generations of women, a country that might/might not exist, psychotropic gingerbread, a girl who lives in a well, this book has it all.

Homesick by Nino Cipri

Am I really recommending two Cipri books in one day? Yes, yes I am. They’re great. These stories are flush with queer/trans/non-binary characters in an a very natural, ‘for us by us’ way, without a shred of tokenism. In one of my favorites from this collection, a young man keeps coughing up keys. In another, a woman rides a dandelion seed the size of a sequoia.

#amindamazed #book recs

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beanarie · 5 years

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⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐ (or talk more about and/all of your Elementary WIPs/ideas bc I want every single drop I can get)

so i totally wrote about joan having breast cancer a couple years ago. here’s the bits i cobbled together, some of which also disappeared from my phone, which tells me i need to back my shit up more often!

The call comes while her stitches from her lumpectomy and lymph node removal are still in place and hurting like a mother and she's only too aware of Sherlock, his terror an acrid smell in her nose. She's told it's not what they hoped, but it's not hopeless, and she barely pauses at all before she looks at Sherlock, smiles, and says, "It's fine."

He's so grateful he takes her out for lunch. They go to a cafe with an outdoor area that he knows she's been eyeing for months. She orders a giant salad with extra pecans and he wrinkles his nose before telling a story about Thomas Jefferson's penchant for giving pecans as gifts.

[the truth comes out in a week or so!]

"We should talk about this."

He closes the file in his hand and tosses it on the stack.

"I-I'm sorry I kept you in the dark. I needed to get the full results and figure out what to do next, without... I don't know. Background noise."

"It's not that serious. People with results like mine have a ninety-three percent chance of remaining cancer-free after treatment. Really, it's barely cancer."

"I mean, yes. Several weeks of radiation, sprinkled with tests and maybe a PET scan or two. Still, not particularly life-derailing. I'm going to work. The only real change will be to my availability. And I won't be able to leave the city, except maybe on the weekends. Overall, we'll simply get more use out of face-time than we did before."

A series of short, shallow nods urges her to let the other shoe drop.

Joan adjusts her gaze to slightly beyond his left ear. "I've asked Lin to help me find a place to sublet for the next two months."

His only reaction is the barely perceptible droop of his shoulders.

"I'm not leaving you." The first time she meant to leave the brownstone, he abducted a contract killer, then tortured and stabbed him. The second time, he went back to London for almost a year with no notice beyond a short Dear Joan letter. She can't handle one of his signature extreme overreactions. "Sherlock, it's really important you absorb that, if nothing else."

"But you do plan on leaving."

"It's the least disruptive option for both of us. And it's only temporary."

[the next day, joan gets home and in the library there's a stack of books, dvds, and cd's on wellness-type things and other stuff, like a giant fluffy orange blanket on the couch. sherlock explains he did some research, orange is a calming color. also OK HE RESPECTS HER CHOICES but. she's not a disruption, she's family. also also moving is one of the most stress-inducing acts a person can put themselves through and it wouldn't be good for her recovery to do that twice in as many months. anyway, she stays.]

"We should formulate a safety plan."

Joan finishes the line she was working on and clicks save so she doesn't have to end up doing this report all over again. This has his second sponsor written all over it. Rashida, having completed her PHD, has been taking classes in behavioral science possibly with an eye for a new specialty. She means well, and she and Sherlock get each other like a pair of esoteric intellectuals only could. It's still strange to get confirmation that he talks about her illness with other people. "A safety plan."

"Yes! A short, memorable list of agreed upon actions in the case of emergent medical and/or emotional, um, turmoil."

"We never had a safety plan for you."

"Didn't we?"

"Fine, so you'll let me pass out wherever I drop and just leave a protein bar by my head so I don't die of hypoglycemic shock when I wake up two days later."

"That's all you did?"

"So I'll let you know if I'm not feeling well and up to whatever's going on." His expression is unreadable, which is rare. "What? You implied pretty heavily that you wanted me to."

Incomprehensibly, his expression becomes almost sad. "That's why you remain so closed off, because of my history of resistance to..."

"Okay, this conversation swerved past making sense. I tell you things all the time. This morning, with your cereal?"

"When *truly* bothered, you keep it to yourself and speak to no one, unless I draw it out of you."

"I speak up when I have something to say. And, I will."

"Have you considered cutting your hair?"

"I'm not getting chemo, Mom. I told you."

"I know. It's just so much to take care of. My cousin Darlene, she had radiation. It drained her. You'll be tired."

"You've always wanted me to cut my hair."

Her expression grows softer, more wistful. "I do like it shorter."

"I remember." Ruefully her entire catalogue of school photos scrolls through her memory. Mom's rule had been adamant and easy to follow: Never past the chin. "I'm not doing that again."

"Okay. Your choice."

Joan doesn't rise to the hint of passive-aggression.

A few hours later, she gets home from treatment, she takes a shower, and she tries to see tonight playing out in a possible near future. She adds imaginary weights to her wrists and ankles, and the almost unbearable weariness after watching a murderer get to go home scot-free.

"Fine," she tells her reflection.

She puts her mom on FaceTime, so she can see the results.

Her mom squints. "You didn't cut that much."

"Four inches." Just enough so she doesn't have to strain to get the brush through while she's blow drying.

“Hm.“

“Anyway, I’ll see you Thursday for tea, Mom?“

Lord save her from aspiring criminals who think they're too cool for the interrogation room. Anthony Raymond has been stonewalling them since Bell brought him in. What makes this especially annoying is he won't even ask for a lawyer. They'd tell him to spill his guts, or at least start negotiations for a deal. This nothingness isn't ideal when she has to take off for treatment soon. If she doesn't get this nut cracked before she goes, it'll be hanging over her head for the rest of the afternoon.

The door opens. Anthony doesn't move a muscle. Gregson enters bearing an extra-large fountain drink, a pen, and a piece of paper. He sits, thoughtfully configuring these objects around his immediate space. It takes a full thirty seconds, during which he doesn't acknowledge Anthony at all. He slides the paper toward Joan.

'Paige made you a smoothie. Not sure what's in this, but she swears by it.'

Joan glances at Anthony as though she learned something important, then looks back at the note. "Hm." She takes the pen. 'I'm good. Thank you both.'

'Holmes said you haven't really eaten yet.' He pushes the drink about an inch in her direction.

Joan makes two straight lines, one each for 'I'm' and 'Good'.

[perp eventually cracks because their note-passing is freaking him out]

[slightly later, joan brings the smoothie into gregson's office. he asks what she thought of it. she says "i didn't try it" and throws it in the garbage.]

It's Saturday, the end of her first week of treatment, and there aren't any murders. Joan texts the guy she liked from TrueRomantix, the one who came to check that she was safe when Everyone doxxed her and hacked her profile. He's still cute. She can't remember exactly why they didn't sleep together the last time, something about it not feeling right. Meanwhile he fosters seeing-eye dogs and he has the best pectorals she's ever seen.

She takes off her bra, but leaves the camisole. It's dark in his bedroom, but not too dark for either of them to see her scars or the semi-circle constellation of radiation tattoos. At one point she guides his hand underneath to her right breast. When he goes for the left, she distracts with a move that almost has his eyes bugging out of his head.

"Wow," he breathes.

When they're done, he doesn't push her to leave *or* ask her why she isn't staying. They'll be doing this again sometime.

[another patient in the waiting room at the radiation clinic starts having a medical emergency. joan immediately jumps forward to help and the patient's mom looks at her like who the fuck are you. it sticks with her the whole rest of the afternoon.]

She's been in a position where people have doubted her expertise before, many times. But never because she was meant to be on the other side. She's a patient, that's her role now.

Briefly she considers lying. The Uber app is acting weird, something like that. She settles on a simple, 'Are you busy?'

She gets her reply in less than thirty seconds. 'Need a ride?'

When Marcus arrives at the clinic, he touches her arm and kisses her cheek, a note of intimacy between close friends. It feels natural, even though his customary greeting, usually at crime scenes or the bull pen, is a brusquely friendly "Hey." They communicate mainly in nods and smiles intended only for each other, cups of coffee as close to the way they like it as limited resources will allow.

After they settle into the car, he doesn't turn the engine on right away. He waits, unobtrusively.

"I don't want to disrupt any plans you might've had for today," she says.

He lifts one shoulder. "Just a pickup game. Nothing I can't put off for another week."

"Actually..."

He turns his head. "Hm?"

She was warned not to expect anything fancy. No bleachers, not much crowd. Kids of varying ages drift by, many popping in and out of the tiny storefronts.

She can't remember the last time she simply existed in public when she wasn't jogging or staking out a criminal. The open air feels refreshing. Not one of these people care that she used to be a doctor.

After the first quarter, she asks to borrow the chair of a guy selling hats, scarves, and phone chargers from a folding table. He was spending most of his time at the halal cart talking to the man stuck inside anyway.

The chair is comfortable. The lighting tasteful. Joan's shoes feel fine. The mid-level exec at the other end of the table isn't stonewalling in the slightest. His voice could almost be called soothing.

All those other things aside, if this meeting doesn't end in the next few minutes she is going to jump out the window.

Her knee bouncing, she shifts her upper body in a way that's hopefully not that visible to anyone else. It doesn't help, in fact the resulting movement of her bra over her left boob makes her want to scream.

"We appreciate your elucidation on Mr. Wallach's movements last Tuesday." Joan nearly bites her lip at the growing light at the end of the tunnel. "Now if you could tell us about the lawsuit from three months ago. Sexual harassment, was it not?"

Joan gets to her feet with a repressed groan. Then she runs for the receptionist. "Restroom?"

She's just stepped inside the single stall and slid the lock into place when she hears the deathly urgent, "WATSON???"

She curses fluently inside her head and undoes the lock, just in case. "Sherlock! I'm o-"

And he's barreled through the open door.

"What the hell!" She pulls together the unbuttoned half of her shirt.

"I thought-" Over Sherlock's shoulder, a security guard starts coming into view. "What-what are you doing?"

"Sorry." Her face will probably remain this garish shade of red for...ever. "I'm, uh, peeling. Itch is driving me crazy."

He blinks, adrenaline making him shake slightly and keeping him from comprehending. "What?!"

"The only emergency right now is my imminent death by mortification." Her left hand tightly curled to protect her modesty, she makes a shooing motion with her right. "Go away."

He turns toward the door, then stops. "I've done the reading. If you have developed a rash, or the beginnings of dermatitis, scratching is highly inad-"

"OUT."

Lin greets her at the bar in her signature neurotically enthusiastic way. After tilting her head a little, she agrees to sit at a booth rather than stay near the bartender, where she loves to try out her charms to get free drinks for the two of them.

"I've never seen you go hard like this." She's waiting on the server to bring her second martini and Joan's third whiskey. "You look tired."

Joan waits until after the drinks have arrived. "Thanks, I had cancer."

"What?"

"Had," she repeats. "Had. As of yesterday, it's past tense. When I'm done with this course of radiation, I'll be free." She knocks on the table. "Until the follow-ups."

Lin gets up to go to the bathroom without a word. Joan downs her drink and orders another round. To Lin's credit, she beats the server back to the table.

"So those times you said you couldn't meet up because you had cases..."

"One, oncologist appointment and two, actually a case. Sorry."

"You told your brother, didn't you?"

Because Joan is three drinks in, she doesn't hold anything back from her eyeroll. Her siblings having no relationship with each other is not on her. "That's different."

"Because he's real."

"Because he lives two hundred miles away! I didn't have to see...that. That expression, in my face, all the time."

"You could've died and I would never have known you were sick."

Joan snorts. "I was never *dying*." There was that period between her biopsy and the results of her lumpectomy, when decades-old memories of various patients, poor souls fading in front of her eyes, resurfaced every hour. Lin didn't need to be there for that.

"Look." Joan kisses Lin noisily on the cheek. "I just got the best news of my life and I wanted MY SISTER here with to celebrate being Officially. Cancer. Free!"

A table of young men nearby let out a cheer. Lin smiles in spite of herself.

Joan wakes up naturally.

She spends a few minutes watching him. Many people say they'll sleep anywhere, but Sherlock actually will. And he never shows a single sign of stiffness or back pain. She envies him that, even as she acknowledges that she'd still prefer a bed, even if there were no consequences to sleeping on the floor.

"Is this just the first time I caught you?" Her voice is husky from sleep.

He springs to his feet. "Oh!" He runs off, returning no more than six minutes later with breakfast.

After placing the tray on the bed, he stands at her side, stiff and silent like a brooding Lurch. "What, no speech?" she teases.

He takes in a shaky breath. "It has been quite some time since I lost the ability to imagine a life without you in it. Gratitude isn't sufficient enough to describe how it feels to know this is a concern I can put off for another day."

"Oh, Sherlock."

"These past few weeks have been fraught, for you." She gives a start. This has taken an unexpected turn. "Full of pain and fear, the reopening of old wounds. You've conducted yourself so admirably. My respect for you, which had appeared to reach its zenith years ago, I find had untold heights yet to climb." He leans toward her, his hand cradling the back of her head while his lips press against her hairline.

He disengages, turning his back and she makes a tentative grab for his hand. He freezes in place, not resisting. "I love you, too," she says thickly, shoving aside tears.

Joan doesn't remember having done anything remotely admirable. She's been tired and snappish, she forced everyone to cater to her, she stopped doing her fair share of the work. The one person she tried to help didn't need her. It's been weeks since she felt like she existed for any worthwhile reason.

Maybe that's why it's good to see herself through his eyes, just this once. She squeezes his hand, then quickly lets go, taking pity on him. Plucking the cloth napkin from the tray and pressing it against her eyes, she laughs. "So this was your plan for my last day? Get my face all blotchy just in time to go in there and say goodbye to all those people?"

"What does it matter? You'll never see them again.

#elementary #elementary fic #it's a rough wip be warned!#my writing #things by beanarie #amindamazed #replies

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