#fortunatetragedy

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Share Tag!

Thank you for the tags! I remember when I had enough free time to answer each tag game separately. Working life is not for me. 😔 As you can see though, I do keep them all and I appreciate being included in the writeblr community! ❤️️ I'm also reading all of them of course, but recently my spoon situation has been disastrous. I want to pick up providing feedback again; maybe this will hold me accountable!

@aziz-reads (x) (x) @gioiaalbanoart (x) (x) @frostedlemonwriter (x)

@willtheweaver (x) (x) @wyked-ao3 (x) @lychhiker-writes (x) @fortunatetragedy (x)

This snippet is from Flu O'Clock, a story in the on your hands and your knees, do you feel in charge? series. Classic sick!fic with my end goal being platonic OT3. Want to see how that's going?

Telford could appreciate the directness, and he wasn't about to do harm to himself just because he didn't like the taste of something. That was more Rush's speed, though he wisely didn't verbalise that thought, accepting the canteen and knocking back the stuff as quickly as he could without risking hurling it up again. "Good boy," Rush said, still in an aggressively casual tone of voice. Everett coughed. Rush did that thing where outwardly he completely ignored the sound, but Telford could see that all of the man's senses were trained with extreme interest on Everett, keenly awaiting any trace of pull on the line. Of course he got exactly what he wanted, because Everett just wasn't able to help himself, in far too many areas of his life. "You said you had work to do?" he asked Rush, proving the one thing he didn't possess was any degree of subtlety. "I think I'll work in here today," Rush said, the way he'd stated it as a fact without even an attempt at the faux politeness of asking if that would be alright designed to press Everett's buttons, specifically his agreeable-unless-you-don't-acknowledge-my-authority one. "Do you really think that's necessary?" Everett responded, overly mild. "He needs his rest." Rush placed the back of his hand on Telford's forehead. Telford heard Everett stand up. That's right, he thought with no small amount of amusement, fight like dogs over me. He relaxed beneath Rush's cool skin, allowing his eyes to drift closed. "I won't be a bother," Rush offered, in a tone far too soft to be used in company, in Telford's opinion. "I just think--" Everett started, only to be immediately interrupted. "I don't care what you think." "Rush." "What?" "You're going to calm down," Everett ordered, doing a terrible job of remaining calm himself. "I'm not the one yelling," Rush retorted, blunt but with a level enough voice that Telford knew Everett would find infuriating. "Maybe you'd like to practice using your inside voice." "Listen!" Everett hissed, clearly restraining himself from moving any closer. "You can't--" "I can do whatever I damn well please." The bed shifted as Rush stood. "You're not going to fucking touch me." Invoking Telford's unspoken protection was an odd play, but one of the best things about Rush was that he never did what was expected of him, always keeping those around him on their toes. Everett let out a warning rumble and Telford cracked his eyes open to see the two men standing nose to nose, staring each other down with no attempt from either party to conceal their aggression. "You know," Telford remarked pointedly. "If you two want to fuck you can have the bed." The twin scandalised expressions he received in response were well worth the headache the argument had set raging inside his skull, a bull deciding his brain would make a nice china shop to run riot in.

Tagging: @moltenwrites @the-golden-comet @finickyfelix @lancedoncrimsonwings @bagheerita + OPEN

[the-golden-comet]

@fortunatetragedy This is how I imagine Benji and Royston if they tried to hug with their 2/10 scores 😂

[thelittlestspider]

Could I hit you with the POV prompt for the ask game :>

this is a scene from carry me from ray's pov.

Ray: Scotty.

Scott turns away. 

Ray: Please talk to me. 

Scott: Everyone thinks I'm a freak. 

Harsher than Ray would label it, but there’s truth in it. The other kids do find Scott to be bizarre; he tells them tales about ballet dancers in stone towers that kill their suitors, hunters that break into wolves’ cabins to devour them, and children trapped in dollhouses unable to sleep for fear of the monsters watching their every move.

Ray often wonders if Scott's stories have a grain of truth in them. Some kind of code she needs to crack to understand him. Ray thinks about them when she lies in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. 

If I decipher the code, will something terrible happen? Will Scott's secrets come together into a mosaic of pain and suffering? He isn’t a painting in a museum for you to analyze. He’s your friend. 

Ray: They just don’t understand you. 

I want to understand you, thinks Ray. Please let me.

.....

now here's the scene from scott's pov

"Scotty..."

Scott turns away from Ray's pleading gaze.

"Please talk to me."

"Everyone thinks I'm a freak."

They giggle behind their hands at his stories, or sneer at him for being "such a weirdo freak loser," who they can't understand why someone like Ray wastes her time on. It's not his fault that sometimes he hits a wall in his memory, and the only way to convey it is in a strange code, not even he understands.

He gets glimpses of it in dreams. Some horrible truth hidden away in his mind, that he's terrified of digging through the meat of himself to uncover.

"They just don’t understand you," Ray replies, coming to stand next to him.

He looks at Ray finally. At her earnest face looking at him like he's worth something. Like maybe he doesn't have to be anyone other than who he is for her to care about him. It's a good feeling. But it also fills him with fear.

Because something dark is out there, and it's coming for him. Maybe not now or tomorrow, but it's on its way. And it doesn't like Ray digging.

[i-am-moss-the-boss]

Ohhhh, so Phillips and Norris are THOSE kind of guys. I'm intrigued. Can I request a wee infodump about them? I'm currently trawling The Sepulcher's tags for moar details.

Ah! Thank you so very much for your interest--I am thrilled to receive this ask! I wish I had more for you involving The Sepulcher here on tumblr, but I am certainly considering posting more about it and possibly more snippets here and there.

Re: this post I reblogged

Regarding my characters, Oliver Phillips and George Norris are fairly disparate but also more alike than they think. They start the narrative greatly disliking and distrusting each other; their first interaction together is a minor physical spat (that lands no blows and is broken up immediately--neither of them can fight worth a damn). Phillips is naive, new to sailing, and by-the-book, whereas Norris is learned (constantly training as a midshipman), refined/sophisticated, and can be rather audacious. However, both are educated, passionate, and earnest young men; the events of The Sepulcher make it so they have no choice but to interact and understand one another's perspective and lived experiences, even begrudgingly.

They slowly learn to tolerate one another over the happenings aboard the ship, including the negative impact on the crew--one of which involves someone very, very dear to Norris. This association is kept tightly under wraps (considering the time period and punishable illegality of the relationship) but Norris eventually trusts Phillips enough to be one of the very few in the know. In return, Phillips also gradually gains respect and understanding, seeing just how human Norris can be after putting on airs for the entirety of the journey. It is a mutual, slow growth of recognition in one another and understanding that both are simply trying to survive and grieve.

They are something of a minor foil to one another (at least that's what I'm going for, I still have so much work to do in general) and I wanted them to be an exploration of tolerance, common ground, setting aside pride, and broadening perspectives of love in a historic period of strict intolerance.

Let me know if you want to know anything else and once again, thank you so very much for your interest. Writing means everything to me, and I've been attempting to get over the shame involved with sharing my work online. I will always, always respond to inquiries about my book/writing, and especially anything to do with my characters.

Similarly, if another character intrigues anyone, please let me know! The only place I have a full list of them all posted is in a dumb shitpost I made a little bit ago, so if any of them inspire curiosity do let me know and I will be absolutely thrilled to discuss/answer. :)

[cyberneticnightmares]

WIP questionnaire tag

the indomitable @fortunatetragedy tagged me on this baby while i was away and boy howdy do i love talking about my projects.

diving headfirst into The Singularity Project (codename: T.E.S. CO) for this one, babes.

What’s the first part of your WIP that you created?

The Vibes. Last October I was being harassed by a brain worm (lol) that did not want to become concrete in any way, and the only way I could get it down was by writing "the vibes" of what I wanted. Those vibes included "hazy 60s lounge", "synth", "Panos Cosmatos' style for weird ass stuff", and "burnt orange".

If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

What Have You Become by MNQN, but more 80s-fied. And because I feel like it, it's end credits song would be I Remember by Tristam but like... slightly more melancholic.

What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

So far, it'll have to be Verne. Neither hero or villain, he's the protagonist's father, and while he isn't physically in the story (as far as I can tell) he inescapably haunts the narrative. By "saving the world" the only way he thought possible, he doomed his son to a life no one deserves. He's also a silly guy who thinks himself a god (derogatory) and is wanted for several crimes against humanity. Second fave is Mike, our deuteragonist. He's just a guy trying to make a living but his work crush has been acting super weird by knocking back 20+ cans of soda per shift and claiming he can "hear the Mall speaking to him".

What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

Tumblrinas (affectionate, gender neutral) would probably also be reblogging some horror webseries things (SCP, The Walten Files, The Backrooms, etc), as well as more classic horror such as Re-Animator, The Thing, and The Fly.

What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

.......Yes. When the story started to form I struggled with the idea of capturing it in a single medium. I am first and foremost a writer, obvs, but a lot of the story relied heavily on visual storytelling. I eventually decided to turn this into a "multi-media project", which means there's a huge chunk of writing, but there are also segments that can only be experienced through audio and visuals (and maybe some fun ARG-esque puzzles). Three POVs? Each POV has its own timeline and its own medium? Did I embark on a multi-month journey to learn Blender and video editing? Am I still trying to get the story down? The answer is yes. (Help me.)

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Yes. Mike has an anthill because it's the only thing he can keep alive.

How do your characters travel/get around?

In the 1911 portion? Via ship. Ernest Shackleton's ship on its voyage to the Antarctic, to be exact. In the 1981 portion? Via bus. Mike's too broke to afford a car. In the 2021 portion? Via car. [Cy] is the man with the plan... and also the car to drive his crew around.

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

Mike's journals, which covers the events of 1981 through 1983. This part is the bulk of the entire project, and the part that is mostly told through writing.

What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in?

So many morally gray characters. But also morally corrupt characters. And morally confused characters.

I hope you like your monsters goopy, and your effects practical.

Don't worry about the cult swearing they can save the soul of a poor young "confused" man.

The true friends were the transgender allegories we made along the way.

What is the point of Man vs. Machine when the Man knows not what he is.

The worm can talk and it has anxiety. I think it's gay?

What are your hopes for your WIP?

TO COMPLETE IT. LMAO. Mostly I just want to be able to stand up and say "Hey, look what I made! I made it because I wanted to and all my hard work paid off!" But I guess it would also be neat to have some sort of cult following? Would love to see fanart of what people think some of the characters look like! I wanna see fic! Give me fan songs I can blast while I drive! I wanna see certain YouTubers react/try to "solve" it so that I can sit there shaking my head. You know. The usual.

this took way longer than i expected so i'ma quick tag @ap0stle, @kairahara, @wrencatte, and YOU.

[zackprincebooks]

OK this isn't part of the ask game but the ask game did remind me and so I'm back for more: tell me more about this Changeling the Dreaming idea you had >:)

Crown Princess Lenore is kidnapped by Dauntain (who may or may not be on the payroll of the Beltane Blade, shush.) In a harrowing high-speed chase, she is rescued by a Black Rider on a motorcycle and brought to safety. But the Black Rider disappears before they can be rewarded by King David, and no one knows their identity. While several brave knights have stepped forward attempting to claim the Black Rider's identity, House Gwydion's powers of truth-telling quickly eliminates them from the running.

Meanwhile, the kidnapping attempt on Princess Lenore has left David's parliament concerned about the royal lineage should anything more happen to her, or to her father. As they attempt to arrange a political marriage for David, he retreats into his fantasies of the Black Rider...

@fortunatetragedy

[aintgonnatakethis]

writing share tag!

Tagged by the wondeful @fortunatetragedy! ❤️️

Everett covers his face with both hands. Behind him, the Other Guy stirs. Telford wants to kill him, making it three steps before he runs into Everett's outstretched hand, the touch solid and burning against his chest. "Stop." Telford's hands curl themselves into fists of their own accord, the task of controlling his breathing as equally beyond him in his current state. "David," Everett tries, pleadingly, soothingly, stepping forwards and they're close, too close; Telford can feel his heartbeat thrashing a rapid drumbeat in his gums. He wants to pull his own teeth out.

Tagging: @snarkyauthor @wolgerrswraith @gioiaalbanoart @vickythestrange @the-golden-comet

[aintgonnatakethis]

writing share/last line tag!

Tag games! 🥳️ Thank you to @fortunatetragedy (x) and @gioiaalbanoart (x) for the tags!

I've been editing more of the 450k lockdown fic (which I feel should get a name but I have absolutely no clue what it would be) and where we're at is Telford being a MASSIVE masochist. Surprising, I know /s

Rush has just had an "interview" with the military where things got very personal (the communist comment! 😂) and Telford has decided to take advantage of the situation and use the rapport he's built with Rush through recruiting him to get himself a Regular Beatdown Buddy™. Three cheers for dysfunctional relationships!

“Come on, Nick.” The words were soft, coaxing, a caress without touch. “Work it all out.” Rush stepped closer without telling himself to do so. He raised a hand and laid it flat on Telford’s chest; there was tension there, under the skin within the rapid drum of the heartbeat. Telford didn’t flinch away from him and Rush considered that remarkable. “Not the face.” Telford smiled, teeth flashing in the darkness. “I need to go to bat for you tomorrow.” Bat. Rush thought about sports. He didn’t know much about that particular subject. He’d never talked about sports with Telford, never really discussed any personal interests with the man at all. He wondered if Telford watched baseball. He thought of a group of men gathered around a television yelling and somehow Telford didn’t fit there. Maybe David did. Because there was a Rush and then there was a Nicholas, so there had to be a Telford and a David too, right? David called him Nick; it always sounded teasing and proprietary, as if he didn’t care if Rush acquiesced to its use or not. “David.” He tested the word on his tongue. He’d said it before, but he’d never meant it, hadn’t used it to the man’s face when they were alone. He curled his hand into a fist, knuckles brushing against soft fabric. Telford pushed his chest out against Rush’s hand. It was a dare, it was desire, it was take take take. Rush pulled his arm away and swung it back.

Tagging: @the-golden-comet @darklysnarky @wolgerrswraith @lancedoncrimsonwings @septembriseur + OPEN