#fic excerpts

[casteeyell]

i feel sick. i feel SICKKKKKK

[sunsetcurve]

more of posting excerpts from fics i’ll never finish!

[emachinescat]

For the latest writer questions you posted, 5, 7, 13, 15, 19. I get you probably didn't mean one person to ask five, but I was having a hard time narrowing them down...

Hi!! I don't mind at all getting 5 from one person! ☺️ Thanks so much for the ask!

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

From my unpublished Hijack fic, Souls of Ice and Fire:

At first, Jack was simply in awe of his gifts, of the way the Wind lifted him, embraced him, understood him, the way water turned to ice with a tap of his staff and frost blossomed like a diamond-fractal flower at his touch.

6. your preferred writing fonts

I write on Ellipsus, and I always use either Literara or Crimson Pro. :)

13. a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

Right now I am still so enraptured by HTTYD lol, but I have been thinking about dipping my toes back into Psych or Merlin some time soon, or maybe even writing for PJO.

15. favorite weather for writing

I looove writing when it's raining outside!

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

Definitely Norse Mythology (The Nornir and Yggdrasil specifically) for my Merlin fic This Cold Land.

As an added bonus, I will tell you that the most morbid thing I've googled is "can fingers be reattached" for my Magnum PI fic A Calculated Risk.

And the most boring thing I've ever researched is boats. Boats are so BORING!!! (At least to me) Which is why the boat in my Psych fic Upside Drown had a Stardew Valley fishing hatch and this ridiculous conversation between Shawn and his kidnappers lmao:

Shawn squinted in confusion. “There’s a hole in your boat,” he said wisely.

“It’s a hatch. For fishing.”

“Couldn’t you just fish over the side?”

“Why would we, when we have the hatch?”

“How does your boat stay afloat?”

A pause. “I… don’t actually know.”

“That’s only mildly concerning.”

Hope you don't mind that I was a little extra with that last one haha 😅

[landwriter]

Talk about sandman WIPs you say? 👀 Your porn AU and San Francisco gays still live in my head rent freeeeeee ❤️

Pella! I'm glad Professional Fuckers lives rent free in your head because I definitely forgot it existed. In spite of this, I am somehow still confident I'll actually finish and post it one day. It's just so easy and refreshing to write a setting purely from experience. Still needs several more scenes but I know the whole shape of it.

I think there's a lot of really fun potential to be mined from indie porn in a rom-com sort of story: you have this professional physical intimacy that can mean absolutely nothing, an intimacy that is itself altered and shaped by the demands of performing for a camera, by the visual and literal language of any given shoot genre; but separately to that, there's this variable of the chemistry you have with them, as colleagues, as co-performers, and of course, though somehow least significantly, as people fucking. The chemistry that plays out on screen does not always track onto the chemistry you feel with someone. So there's this, I think, super funny territory you can get into, where you've just fucked someone, and the prescient question of did we make something good and the vain little one of was I good, did you like that are entirely separate. But imagine the urge to ask when you're doing something you've never done before.

Imagine, too, nursing a crush on somebody and still not being sure if they like you like you in spite of fucking them in shoots all afternoon and pretending to be in a relationship for half of those. Imagine doing all this demanding, intimate work with a near-stranger, and then making friendly small talk after because outside of this work you hardly know each other. Imagine feeling like there's something there, beneath all the performance, and the commingled horror of crossing professional boundaries--of finding out your co-performer is just so good that they sold the story you were telling together to you too, without meaning any of it--and the desire to find out how good it could be with the cameras off. No awkward blocking, no performing, no story, nothing: an entirely novel, unprofessional, and maybe even more intimidating kind of fucking altogether.

That's what this setting is all about. In the spirit of that, have a mildly NSFT scene ft. Dream sucking cock for the first time while on a shoot, and Hob making a suggestion after.

[ask me anything]

“Dream,” says Hob. “Dream, please, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck.”

He looks up at Hob, jaw afire, and Hob swears and twitches and comes in his mouth. Dream swallows it without thinking of making a show of it, just swallows and swallows and pulls off, panting. He doesn’t realize how swollen his lips are until Hob traces them with a warm thumb, and murmurs, wow, so low it’s surely not for the cameras, more a breath than a word.

“Was I good?” he asks. His voice is fucked out and low and Hob laughs breathlessly as he tucks himself in.

“Yeah. Yeah, shit, you were good, baby. So good for me.” He looks down at Dream with undisguised lust. “M’gonna want this all the time now.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares up at Hob, until Hob smiles and shifts to sit up. “Great,” he says, in a normal tone, the scene sloughing off him. “Happy with that?”

“Was it enough time?” Dream asks.

“Oh, yeah. We’re probably at thirteen, fourteen minutes. I know you only wanted ten but I didn’t want to tread on perfectly good footage and say something.”

Dream can’t conceal his surprise that it’s been so long already. Hob takes it as skepticism and laughs. “No, you can check, but I’m like a fucking egg timer. It’s my party trick on shoots.” He stands and goes over to his camera, squinting at the display. “Yes! Thirteen twenty-nine,” he announces triumphantly, and turns it off. “Right,” he says, all business when he turns back to Dream. “Water and onto the next?”

Dream, still kneeling, awkwardly stands. “Yes,” he says, and clears his throat when it comes out rough. “Yeah, sure.”

Was I good? Truly? Hob is so good at inhabiting someone else that Dream isn’t sure. He would cover it up well if it was bad. “That’ll sell well,” he says, as neutrally as he can.

Hob takes the bait and grins at him. “Oh, definitely. That was perfect. You were great.” Then he takes in Dream and frowns. “Hey, do you want to, ah?”

Dream realizes he’s still painfully hard. Hob is grimacing down at his tented jeans. The moment of satisfaction is popped like a soap bubble. He adjusts himself, feeling his face heat. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Oh, fuck, don’t be sorry. Always good to know I’m not repulsive. I meant, do you want to deal with it now since you didn’t come?”

Dream glances toward the guest bedroom, unable to believe Hob is actually propositioning him. Unable to believe the yes that offers itself at once. Hob continues. “My facial shoot, later? Could just switch things around and get it done now if you’re ready to go.”

“Of course,” says Dream, magnanimously. Of course that’s what Hob meant.

[bartletslesbians]

I'm writing a ficlet of Josh and Andy as Chief of Staff and Speaker of the House during the Santos administration cause that as a concept is really growing on me so so much. So here's a little excerpt? Just cause I like it

“Every time I come in here, Otto looks like a freshman on the first day of school. What are you doing to the poor kid?” Josh has a twinkle in his eye — the boyish grin he has no right to pull off at this age back in all its glory — when he tells her “I’m afraid that’s all you. Around these halls, we’re all a little afraid of you, Madam Speaker.” Andy laughs wholeheartedly, showing her teeth in a more than pleased grin. “How nice of you to say. That means you’ll have Sam talk to Burke and Rivera? You should handle Richards yourself, or have Lou do it; he can’t stand Sam.” “You’re lucky we’re on the same side,” he warns her. “As are you.” Josh chuckles. Over the phone, he tells Otto to get Sam to his office. “No one’s denying that.” Before she leaves, Andy rummages around her bag once more and retrieves a tupperware container with some homemade rhubarb pie. She hands it to Josh. “I don’t have time to drop by the East Wing — Donnatella’s been craving it. Don’t have a slice yourself before you give it to her, I’ll know.” “Sometimes I really don’t know what we’re afraid of, you know,” Josh tells her, nodding at the container with a grateful smile. Andy laughs. “You’ll remember soon enough.” “Don’t doubt it.”

[motokeith]

Excerpts from a nsfw crack fic I wrote in 2017 that I personally think are hilarious.

TW in tags and under the cut.

TW: allusions to potential dub-con but no actual dub-con, character stripped of their agency, sexual themes. No smut.

Fic takes place in an undefined AU where the space war takes much longer than a year.

Ages: Keith (23), Lance (22), Hunk (22), Allura (22), Pidge (19), Matt (26), Shiro (30), Lotor (10,000+)

“Uh, I can… make it there myself,” Keith manages to mumble awkwardly, his flirtatious demeanor melting to reveal a healthy amount of shame. “Sorry, Matt. Uh — yeah.”

He tries to pivot, but his body doesn’t follow orders. He attempts to start by detangling himself from Matt, first and foremost, and his skin feels like it’s searing from the lack of touch. Now would be a great time to get out of here, he realizes, shuddering.

“It’s… fine.” Matt replies, eyes skimming the other as though he’s searching for something, “Pidge, can you help us get Keith back to his room?”

It’s a half-second before she replies, “Again? Fine.”

“Allura, Coran, have you been able to find anything about whatever’s making Keith act like a cat in heat?” Lance asks, and Keith feels himself blooming red all over.

“Actually,” Coran begins, voice riding along that pitch that means he’s having a eureka moment, “I was able to analyze the symbol on Keith’s neck and trace it back to what appears to be a part of some kind of ancient prophecy. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the seven fatal goras?”

Keith isn’t exactly sure what the fuck Coran just said and he really doesn’t even want to know anymore. He just wants to find a nice asteroid to shrivel up on, maybe one that reminds him of the desert. ‘Goddamn,’ he thinks to himself, spiraling despite the conversation going on without him, ‘My life is ridiculous.’

“Yes,” Shiro answers for the rest of them. Glad to know someone knows what the fuck is going on.

Coran hums, “Good, because from what I can tell, the thing that attached itself to Keith is actually the seed of Lust. Quite exciting really, I believe you may have accidentally played a part in the awakening of that particular planet’s death cycle.”

Keith isn’t really sure how else to respond other than sarcastically, “All in a day’s work?”

“At any rate, it will be interesting to see the impact that removing one of the seven fatal goras will have on the inevitable planetary apocalypse.” Coran points out. “According to a simulated version of the events detailed in the scripture, they were doomed for worldwide extinction, but now you’ve given them a fighting chance! Take that, mystic powers that be!”

“Congratulations, Keith. You’re a fucking hero. Literally.” Pidge feels the need to add.

“Pidge, watch your mouth.” Shiro chides, tone clipped. “Just so I’m aware, we shouldn’t worry about the apocalypse that Keith started?”

“You’re not seriously going to keep saying that like it’s my fault that I got attacked by a goddamn space demon while I was trying to take a leak!” Keith snaps back.

“Keith!” Shiro harps, and Keith groans in frustration.

“Maybe don’t go whipping your dick out on a random planet,” Lance suggests, dry as can be, “Can we make that a rule?”

Allura sighs loudly into the intercom.

With a deep breath in, Keith finds his composure. “To be fair, the seed of Lust wasn’t in the pamphlet. I wasn’t even doing anything reckless this time. What more do you want from me? I’m sorry for starting the apocalypse and getting possessed?”

“That’s a pretty good start, buddy,” Hunk encourages, and it feels like a personal slight.

Coran finally manages to get a word in edgewise. “Things cannot go fully to plan as long as Lust, err-Keith, is away. At least, not in the way described in the prophetic text. There may be a global extinction yet, Lust or no.”

“So how do I get this thing outta me without exacerbating the apocalypse?” Keith asks, sounding a little helpless.

“Well, I’m still attempting to work that out,” Coran admits, sounding a little stressed. “According to the text, the energy of Lust typically attaches itself to a sexually repressed, frustrated, or celibate host whose fantasies are—oh! Oh my… Erm, that wasn’t the passage I intended to read. Where did it go?”

“Great,” Keith mutters under his breath, dragging his hands down his face. Like he needs another reminder of how long it’s been since he’s gotten his rocks off, and like everyone needs another thing to pick him to pieces about. “Thanks for that, Coran.”

“Sooo, let me get this straight,” Hunk comes over the intercom and he already knows he’s about to be dissected. “This is all happening because Keith wasn’t having… enough sex? Specifically kinky sex.”

The shame is clearly enough to keep him docile for the moment, so he begins his trek back to his room with renewed purpose. “Please stop talking.”

“Seriously, some of us don’t want to hear it.” Pidge interjects helpfully, then decides to jab, “I’ve heard quite enough already.”

“Look guys, I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do to not have… that happen to me,” Hunk attempts to defend.

Right now seems about as good a time as any to eject himself into space. If only he could get to the airlock.

“Just don’t get horny on a random planet and that should solve a lot of potential issues,” Pidge offers.

“I wasn’t horny,” Keith practically squawks.

“That might be part of the problem,” Hunk points out.

“Enough!” Allura commands, having reached the end of her well of patience, “If you cannot speak of the topic with grace, please do not speak of it at all. Keith is suffering an uncomfortable affliction which has stripped him of his agency and his dignity—“

“I mean, I still have some dignity—“

“—the last thing he needs right now is such childish ribbing.”

“Bet he could use a different kind of ribbing. Hey-oh!”

“Hunk!”

“Sorry, Princess. You’ve gotta admit, you teed me up for that one.”

“We’ve found the answer, but we’re afraid you may not like it.” Allura informs him, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Keith does as instructed and sits down, still away from the rest of the group per current protocol, which only serves to make him feel even more like a science project, but whatever. “I don’t see how it can get much worse than this.”

“Yes, well,” the princess begins, not looking too enthused about what she is about to report, “according to the text, the only way to fully stop what is happening to you is… well, you must fall in love—“

“And confess!”

“—and it must be truthfully reciprocated.”

“Huh?” He asks, mouth hanging open dumbly as if he’s waiting for her to say GlubGlorp Fool’s or something. She continues to stare at him unnervingly, dead serious. “You mean that’s, like, the only way or else this is just going to keep happening to me forever?”

“Until you find true romantic love,” Allura elaborates, somehow making it sound even more disgusting the second time. “It is the only thing powerful enough to combat errant Lust.”

For the first time since this entire debacle has begun, he decides to lament his woes. “Why me?”

“You’d think someone just told him he had to commit an atrocity,” Pidge mutters blandly, rolling her eyes. “Shiro said you were gonna get dramatic, but sheesh.”

He shoots her a scathing look, electing not to comment before he turns back to Allura and Coran. “What about, like, an arranged marriage or something?”

“That is nowhere near the same thing, Keith.” Shiro chastises. “You can’t force love, it just happens.”

He blinks, looking around the room to see if he’s the only one who seems to be lost here.

Yep, just him unfortunately.

“I’m sorry, I thought I was supposed to be looking for a fix to this problem, not the vague notion that I’m going to be stuck like this until I die.”

“Buddy, why are you being so pessimistic about it?” Hunk asks, and to his merit, he looks genuinely curious. “I think it’s kinda beautiful in a messed up space-demon type of way. At least they gave you an out.”

Keith turns to him mechanically, mouth open in preparation of spitting out something terribly rude, but when he looks at Hunk’s face, he can’t help but sigh in defeat. “No offense, but you’re not being puppeteered into coming onto every guy that steps within three feet of you whether you want to or not, for one. And two, we’re in the middle of a space war and you’re now telling me that my options are either to fuck some rando everyday so that I don’t explode, or to fall in love, in space, in the middle of an intergalactic war? I don’t have time for this!”

“Keith, come on. I understand, but watch your language.” Shiro harps.

The look of incredulity that he gives the other is probably good enough to frame. “How am I ever supposed to have a normal life or a normal relationship now? Are you guys seeing how this doesn’t make sense?” His stress level has risen to a point where his voice is pitching upward, and he’s quickly approaching hysterical. He runs a hand through his hair, holding his bangs up and away from his forehead. “You just said they have to love me back, right? How am I supposed to explain this without sounding like a complete liar? Who in their right mind is going to love a… a demon-possessed nymphomaniac?”

“I could think of quite a few suitors looking for someone like you right off the top of my head,” Lotor helpfully interjects, and Keith really just wants to punch him in the neck. “I could put you in contact, if you’d like.”

“No!” Keith stresses, aggrieved, “No, I would not like!”

“You know, perhaps there is another way,” the prince muses, appearing to mull it over for a moment. “It may not be entirely favorable, but it would be quicker than finding love and safer than your… other proposal.”

Allura places a hand on her hip. “What is your suggestion?”

“How to say…” he pauses, rolling it around in his head for a second before going on, “Let’s call it a long-term physical partnership, then?”

Keith can feel the blood rushing to his face as Lust snappily replies, “Is that an offer?” Hand over mouth, he scowls.

The room becomes considerably more uncomfortable when Lotor easily replies, “I’d prefer to answer that question in a more private setting.”

Shiro clears his throat, obviously less than pleased about this new development. “If you could abstain from your compulsive opportunism for five minutes—“

“Pardon me, I was under the impression that this was an impending life or death situation with no definite end in sight,” Lotor quips back, and he’s unfortunately right. “Excuse me for presenting a rather obvious solution to the issue. I don’t see any of you offering to save your friend, as you say.”

Keith raises his hand to interject, “I have an idea.”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers, sighing as he says, “Go ahead, Keith.”

“Put me in the cryopod.”

Lance decides to speak for the first time since the conversation has begun. “How many times are you going to suggest that before you realize it’s not happening?”

As many times as it takes, he thinks rather than says. Aloud, he answers, “I still feel like it’s a solid idea. Just put me in there while I’m semi-normal and only take me out when it’s absolutely necessary.”

“You do realize that’s ludicrous and impractical?” Lotor asks, eyebrow raised.

“Do you want to know what’s really ludicrous and impractical? Everything about this entire situation,” He shoots back, throwing his hands up.

“At any rate, we must figure something out,” Allura declares, steering the conversation back onto its track. “Even if we must onboard another passenger to assist you with your… ailments. We have plenty of chambers.”

His head falls into his hands in defeat. Are they seriously considering space prostitutes at this point? Where would he even find someone who was willing to risk their own life to go along with this?

“Take some time to consider your options,” Lotor urges, as though there’s anything else he can do but consider his options. “I do have around ten-thousand years of experience, rounding up of course—“

Lance groans, “Dude, can you shut up? I think we get that you’re interested.”

“Moreso intrigued,” he clarifies beyond anyone’s appreciation. “Don’t tell me that’s an issue for you, red paladin?”

“You’re kinda creeping me out since you’re, y’know, an old ass man, and you’re emphasizing it, which makes it way weirder, that’s all.” Lance shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Not exactly comforting to know you’re the first one offering when one of us gets seed of Lusted. If some crazy shit like that ever happens to me, keep your slimy, ancient mitts away.”

Lotor arches a platinum eyebrow, “Quite bold of you to assume I’d offer for just anyone.”

“I do have another idea,” Keith decides to pipe up again before Lance can squabble back, tone riding that lilt that meant he was about to suggest something stupid.

Pidge groans in annoyance. “We’re not ejecting you into space, Keith.”

“Fine,” he bites back sourly, moving on to start the endless cycle over again, “So, realistically, what happens if I just ignore it? Can I maybe talk to a space priest, get an exorcism or something? Or what about a holy water bath? Or what if I spend a few months with Balmeran monks?”

Coran clucks his tongue and shakes his head, “I’m afraid if you were to fully resist, your body temperature would rise to such a point that your internal organs would begin to shut down. Furthermore, your body is more resilient than that of the average human thanks to your Galra ancestry, so it would be an extremely lengthy and likely very painful death. A few weeks from start to finish, at least.” He pauses, appearing to think for a moment. “That is, if the entity itself doesn’t assume total control of your body out of survival impulse and take matters into its own hands, which is always a possibility.”

“That can happen?” Keith practically squawks, indignant.

“Yes, yes, and I’m afraid you don’t want that,” Coran is sure to inform him. “It will be quite violent and someone will likely get hurt, if not multiple someones. It is a demon, after all.”

“Multiple someones?” He repeats, eyes going wide at the implications of that.

Shiro palms at his forehead. “Okay, so as we’ve already established, ignoring it isn’t going to work. Take some time to think over your options and find something that works for you until you fall in love.”

“Why don’t you take some time shoving it up—“

“Stop being so hateful. It’s just love, grow up,” Shiro chides, exhausted. “You’re a grown man, Keith. It’s not going to kill you.”

[siflshonen]

Izuku wasn’t one to think about danger. When someone called for help, he followed their voice, and when he saw something he wanted, he followed his heart.

It came as no surprise that instead of running away from explosions, he ran towards them.

[amaranthhiding]

Dibs on Samuel

by Hiding Amaranth

Words: 2,194 (finished) Rating: Teen Relationships: Rowena/Sam

Tags: Canon Universe, Episode 15x08, Rowena/Sam First Kiss, Angst with Happy Ending, Angst and Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Ruler of Hell Rowena, Sam Using Magic

Point-of-View Characters: Sam

Summary: Now that the fact had sunken in that Rowena wasn't gone forever, that she was only a spell away, he couldn't let it go. He had to return to Hell.

Written for the SPN Royalty of Hell Weekend 2023 Day 2: Queen of Hell hosted by @spnrareships

Banner created by the author Read Dibs on Samuel on AO3

Excerpt under the cut

He let himself sink to his knees, pulling the boxes of spell ingredients and Rowena's journals out from under his bed. A sense of calm washed over him the moment his fingers touched the red leather cover, the same way it had for weeks now. Something to cling to in the insanity his life had become.

The magic, all that knowledge right there in front of him, had sucked him in quickly. It had carried him through sleepless nights, most of which had ended with a tear-streaked face—especially whenever he'd stumbled over any kind of personal annotations scribbled onto the pages. Almost as if she'd been right there with him.

He'd been convinced that these journals were all that remained of her, his only way of ever interacting with her again. That's why he'd refused to store them anywhere other than his own room.

Doing what we do, we've had to get used to losing people. Probably too used to it.

When he'd said this to Michael just minutes ago, he'd been talking about Adam. But he realized the statement applied to Rowena as much as to his younger brother.

With Adam, we said goodbye because we thought we had to. We were wrong.

He'd tried so hard to say goodbye, to let go of her. To stop the flashbacks of the moment the dagger had sunken into her stomach. The nauseating squelch still haunted his dreams whenever he closed his eyes.

When he'd used Rowena's spell to teleport Dean, Cas and himself to Hell, he'd done so only in the vague hope of finding Michael. The last thing he'd expected was to find Rowena instead.

Ironically, he'd spent most of the encounter too stunned to say much. And that even though he'd lain awake in the half-dark of his room many nights in a row, imagining all the things he wished he could still ask her, tell her. He hadn't thought he'd ever get a chance to.

Now that the fact had sunken in that she wasn't gone forever, that she was only a spell away, he couldn't let it go. He had to return to Hell.

With any luck, nobody would even notice he was gone. He didn't have the exact numbers to convert Earth and Hell times, but even just ten minutes here should be plenty of time over there. Archangels and God be damned, he'd take the time.

Nobody was there to keep the flame burning in case he'd need longer than the contents of the bowl would last, but he felt that this was something he had to do on his own. In the worst case, he wouldn't exactly get trapped on the other side anyway, not with Rowena calling the shots. He trusted her.

The magic ingredients were exactly how he'd left them, all stacked neatly into a small box next to the spell bowl. It didn't take long at all to prepare the spell for the second time that day. Though he was sure he remembered every word, he still leafed through the journal for confirmation, finding the page blindly. He let his finger pads glide over the elegant handwriting and exhaled with a brief smile, shaking his head about himself.

His blood was the last ingredient missing, so he swallowed and took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then cut into his palm. The feeling of a knife in his hand made him sick to his stomach after what he'd been forced to do to her. A trickle of red fell from his clenched fingers into the bowl, and he had to remind himself that it was his own this time. Not hers.

"Initium ad inferna permittatur," he whispered, his hands trembling as he lit a match to throw it into the mix.

He watched the small flame's descent and rested his fingers against the bowl's edge, the metal cold to the touch.

The explosion of purple was blinding, and he blinked, hastily wiping his sleeve over his face when the by now familiar sensation of tears appeared on his cheeks. He knew better than to think it had been caused only by the brightness.

When his vision cleared, he was standing in one of Hell's dark corridors. He still remembered the way to the throne room from earlier, though he really hoped he wouldn't have to fight his way through.

The alley leading directly to the throne room's gate came into view, framed by golden hooded statues on both sides. Several demons eyed him, and he fell into a combat stance by instinct. But then the demon at the front of the group of guards said, "Let him pass, he's on the list."

He was escorted the short distance to the gate. The demon cleared his throat before pushing it open, then announced loudly, "Milady, Samuel Winchester is here."

And there she was.

Sam had been a fool to think the second time seeing her on that snake-headed throne would be any less breathtaking.

Read Dibs on Samuel on AO3

@spnrarepairbunker @fanficlounge

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