#(i will be adding this to the WIP pile even if it gets no notes because *i* like it)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Straight from the discord, edited solely for line breaks/clarity. If y'all like it, I'll add it to the WIP pile.

Reader is in a hostage situation and the 141 come to handle things. Naturally, you're hyperventilating when a huge man in a skull mask and assault rifle strides into the room. And then your brain short circuits when he takes your face in his hands and gives a long "shhhhhhhhh" that sounds exactly like your online dom of about 6 months. You were gonna meet in person for the first time in a month!

"Settle, lovie," he says. "Be good for me. You can do that, yeah?"

Gaz thinks "oh, you know her? weird but not impossible." Price, who mentored Ghost as a dom and knows who you are is like "what are the odds?" Soap comes to the baffling conclusion that Ghost can just... sniff out submissives in a room.

During a lull in the fighting, as they're preparing for exfil, Si (who is also apparently called Ghost) introduces you to everyone. "You follow Price if you can't see or hear me. He's the Captain, outranks me. This is Gaz, that's Soap. You can't find the Captain, you sit tight and wait for one of them to retrieve you."

Soap gives you a considering look. "So you're LT's girlfriend, then?"

Your mind starts racing because, No, we're not dating, and I'm not a girl, and well, sometimes I'm a girl? and What are we? and what if Si doesn't want to play anymore? and oh god what do I call him what if ghost is a military only thing I can't call him kink things he's at work!!!

It's been a long day, so you start crying what you know are big, fat, studio Ghibli tears.

"Shhhhh," Si-slash-Ghost reels you in for a hug. His vest is hard and scratchy, but a hug goes such a long way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I know this isn't a scene, but the same rules apply. You don't know how to answer a question you hold up three fingers. No punishments for not knowing something. Show me."

Holding up 3 fingers feels familiar. The way his hand cups the back of your skull doesn't. But it's still nice.

(You don't see it, but Ghost glares at Soap. Soap is baffled because it seemed like a simple question!!!)

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[skoulsons]

Dialing In All Your Pheromones

• gif from @olisgifs

• title from Novo Amor’s song “Terraform”

Relationships: Joel and Ellie

Word count: ~2800

Authors note: Just some father and daughter fluff :) If you ship them I will tie you to a table and force you to eat wet bread. This is the first proper fic I’ve ever written, so please be kind <3 I do have a ton of other wips I’d love to post eventually, if I ever finish them. But, for right now, enjoy this!

Summary: based entirely on this post which sent me into cardiac arrest when I first read it.

(Thank you to my lovely beta readers @ellie-licious @sunflower-0180 @swinging-stars-from-satellites *I was too antsy to post but thank you still!!*)

~~~

Note- I know she rode that one horse into Jackson in episode 6, but we’re going to ignore that for the sake of this. I don’t know, say they just walked them there. Or Ellie sat behind him. I’m just saying that she’s never sat and lead/steered a horse on her own before. Also, I know almost nothing about horses, only what I find out through google. So, apologies in advance if I get something terribly wrong or weird

-

Ellie never knew comfort like she did right now. A different comfort to her warm bed on a rainy day or even a lukewarm shower after FEDRA school drills around the gym. A comforting presence. A grounding presence that she could touch. The presence her heartbeat would match with and she could steady her breathing alongside. This presence in a man she has her cheek pressed against and her arms wrapped around, her fingers linking together in front of his stomach.

When she’s not bothering him with questions about construction, Tommy, or foods from Before, or she’s not taking a nap against his back, she kicks at his ankles with the tips of her feet. He ignored it the first two days, simply letting out a sigh when she’d tap his boots in a rhythmic manner, clicking her tongue to make a beat. But now, he kicks back at her, a smile on his face as they fight with their boots against Callus’ side. Joel always knew he won after a defeated “ow…” came from behind him as she shifted her weight to rub her ankles to relieve the pain.

“You kick too hard,” she grumbled, placing her forehead against his back and readjusting her hands to his sides.

Joel smiled, “Ain’t kicking you that hard.”

“Then why’s it still hurt?”

“Need s’more meat on your bones, you’ll be able to take it better,” he argued.

“Or you could kick softer,” she challenged, earning a laugh from him. It reverberated through his chest and back and through her forehead, forming a small, almost reluctant smile on her lips at the feel of it. It felt…warm.

“Sorry, kiddo. Not an option,” he smiled, throwing the lightest kick he could to her foot, just to tease her.

“Oh, funny,” she huffed, leaning defeated into his winter coat.

They continued riding a few more hours, passing car pile ups, fallen over utility poles that stretched across every lane, and overturned tractor trailers. They were getting closer to the highway. Ellie’s cheek was pressed against his back again, arms against his stomach as she held onto each of her wrists to keep a tight hold around him. Callus’ trotting kept a slight bounce in their step, and with the added velvet material of his coat and the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat in her ear, she couldn’t help but relax into his back.

Joel turned his head to the side, trying to get sight of Ellie behind him. She had been still against him the last few minutes. “Ellie?”

“Hm?” she mumbled, sleepiness present in her voice.

“You want to switch?”

Ellie perked up immediately, beaming at the salt and pepper mix on the back of his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, before we stop for the night. That okay with you?”

“Yeah, man!” She shouted, excitedly tapping the sides of his arms at a rapid rate, half expecting her tapping to make Joel slow Callus down faster the quicker she tapped.

Joel brought Callus to a stop along the shoulder of the road (old habit with driving, he claims) as Ellie climbed off first, nearly bouncing with excitement as her feet hit the mossy asphalt. Joel climbed down after her, keeping a hand on Callus’ shoulder as Ellie is nearly glowing beside him, stepping up close to the saddle.

“Alright, gimme your foot,” he instructed, squatting down and linking his fingers together underneath her left boot as she swung her right leg over the saddle. Her feet barely reach the stirrup once she’s in the saddle, so Joel leads her boot through as the tip of her boot grazes the iron.

“Hold on to both,” Joel says, handing the reins to her lap once she’s settled into the saddle.

She eyed him sarcastically, “I know, Joel,” she said, grabbing hold of the reins. “You need a hand up, old man?”

“Cute,” he scoffed, putting his left foot through the stirrup and swinging his right overtop Callus, grabbing Ellie’s shoulder briefly to stabilize himself.

“You just doing this so you can kick my feet better?”

“Mmm,” he hums, raising his eyebrows in consideration, a slight smile on his face. It wasn’t his intention, but since she mentioned it-

“No…” she starts.

“I won’t, I won’t,” he reassures.

-

It was nice. Holding her. Getting to have her against his chest. To keep his arms at her sides as she settles into the saddle.

You’re not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain’t your dad.

He hadn’t meant it. Not really. It was a mess of feelings. His inadequacy and fear. His need for her to be protected, just not by him. And for her to shove him and tell him she cares about him? For him to tell her he cares about her, without missing a beat? Course I do. He didn’t even think when he said it, it came out as clear as any other truth he’s ever spoken to her. Because that’s what it was; truth.

But to say she wasn’t his daughter was the furthest thing from the truth. Over the last three days (their whole journey, really), she was nothing but that. Teaching her how to shoot, start a fire, and do the ‘dressin’’ part of their hunting. Those and the teasing, laughing, bickering, and earth-shattering annoyance with each other is what really sold the family unit. He lied to himself, and he hopes Ellie isn’t thinking about it nearly as much as he is.

Getting to hold her almost felt like his way of apologizing. Of taking back what he said and telling her ‘I’m sorry.’ He’d never say it aloud, but he hopes she gets it, even just a little bit.

“Joel?” She asks, breaking him from his thoughts. “You with me? You haven’t moved or spoken and I don’t exactly know how to get Callus going.”

“I’m good,” he reassures, squeezing her side gently and offering a smile that was more for him than her. “…wait, Callus?”

“Yeah, it’s what I named him. Tommy didn’t exactly tell us his name, so…figured I’d give him one.”

“And you went with Callus?”

“Listen, man, it was the first thing I thought of! Besides, I think it fits him well,” she tries, praising herself at the name she’d given him. “Anyway, I was scared I’d do something wrong and he’d fling us off or something, I don’t know,” she admits.

“He won’t fling us off, kiddo. Well, you maybe…”

“Hey!” She said, throwing her heel back and making contact with his shin.

“Alright, alright. Here-” he started, moving his left hand from her side to both of her hands, grabbing the reins from her as she dropped her hands in her lap. “Hold the reins overhand, like this,” he demonstrated, the reins held securely in the curl of his fingers. “You don’t gotta hold ‘em real tight, just enough so they’re secure in your grip.” He turned his hand over, palm to the sky as the reins draped across his hand. “Show me.”

“Right hand or left?”

“Whichever you want. I use my left so I can draw my revolver or knife easier, but it’s up to you,” he said, reins still draped across his hand.

She brings her left up from her lap, taking the reins from Joel’s hand and holding them as Joel showed her; secure grip in the curl of her fingertips.

“Good,” he said, his left hand falling back her side as his right came up to her shoulder, gently adding pressure. “Release the tension in your shoulders, too. I can feel it all the way back here.”

She rolled her eyes at the comment, but obliged and inhaled deep, held it for three seconds, and exhaled, letting her shoulders fall as she did. Joel’s hand stayed on her until she relaxed, reverting back to her waist when she did.

“Now, for walkin’, It’s easy. You just gotta give him a little squeeze with your legs.” Joel glanced down to where her legs fell, noting how close they were to Callus’ shoulder. “Keep your feet away from him now, cause if they nudge him, he’ll think it’s time to go when you may not be ready,” he explained, Ellie nodding in understanding. “Now, gently squeeze your feet to his side. Gently,” he repeated, wanting them to start slow.

Callus started walking as Ellie tapped his shoulders with her feet, letting them fall back to a more relaxed position in the open air beside him. A toothy grin grew on her face knowing she was the one doing this, not Joel. “Whoa,” she smiled, barely a whisper as the clop-clop of Callus hooves stepped along the pavement.

“How he responds and reacts comes down to your weight in the saddle and any pressure in your legs against him,” Joel explained, Ellie nodding in understanding again as she watched Callus’ mane wave back and forth slightly. “Here, gently tap your feet against him again.”

Ellie did as instructed, tapping her feet against Callus’ shoulders once again. The signal against him made him go from walking to a trot, Ellie letting out a small “whoa,” at the change of pace. Her right hand went to the reins, holding a little tighter to the ropes with both her hands. She felt Joel hold a little tighter to her sides, keeping her steady.

Joel noticed her tightened grip on the reins and he gave her left side a gentle squeeze, as well as attempting a, “hey, relax,” but no words came to him. She didn’t need them. They didn’t need them. One squeeze was enough for her to hear him, and she let her right hand go from the reins, letting her hand fall back in her lap as she inhaled, held for three seconds, and exhaled, letting her shoulders fall again as Callus carried the two of them along in his trot.

After about five minutes of the steady trot, Joel broke the silence. “Alright, Ellie, try and make yourself feel a bit heavier in the saddle and gently squeeze your thighs against him, don’t tap your feet.”

“Feel heavy, squeeze thighs. Gentle…” she repeated to herself, squeezing her legs against Callus gently as he slowed his trotting to walking. Ellie let out a breath as she smiled, craning her neck around to look at Joel, the two of them sharing a smile together.

Joel rubbed his right hand up and down her waist lightly, commending her. “Good job, kiddo.’

“Can we gallop?”

“Ah, no.”

“Joel, please?” She draws out her ‘please’, leaning her head against his chest with a goofy, over-the-top grin on her face.

“You keep askin’ and I may just have to take the lead again.”

“No,” she breathed, a hint of offense in her voice, though sarcastic. She sits up from his chest, her posture straightening as she continues watching Callus’ mane flow back and forth as the clop-clop of his hooves fill their silence

-

They stay in a gentle walk for miles as the sun sets, creating a glow of orange, pink, and a dim purple across the horizon, stratocumulus clouds highlighted by the contrasting colors.

“Joel?” She asks, voice seemingly smaller than normal. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from a day of traveling. Or maybe it’s the setting.

“Hmm?”

“Look, the sunset.” She throws her right hand up in front of them, pointer finger haphazardly out in a pointing motion, like she needed to point to the incredible painting-like view in front of them that nearly covered the whole sky. His head perks up over her beanie from where he kept it down in thought, taking in the view. It was really nice. He could hear her breathing change to controlled, stable breaths. Content breathing as she paused after each inhale and exhale. Joel smiles to himself as he notices the light from the sunset creating a glow overtop her beanie and one shaping Callus’ muzzle. He smiles to himself, knowing that Ellie’s face is definitely also glowing, and it’s not from the sunset alone.

Ellie lets out a content sigh as she drops against Joel’s chest, letting her weight fall against him. Joel smiles at the contact. This is new for them, really new, but it’s nice. The comforting presence they bring to each other; the security. He’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t grow a size or two with these moments. Or even three or four when he wraps his arms around her a little tighter as she lets out another sigh against his chest, his chin coming down to set atop her beanie.

Joel’s not one to let his guard down, especially not in the open like this. He always has one eye open, one foot in the door. Always looking for an exit or being extra keen on their surroundings, despite his lesser hearing on his right side.

But right now is an exception to that; to what he’s built up so heavily the past twenty years. He unclenches his jaw as his face relaxes in the cotton of her beanie. He holds his own forearms with each opposite hand, arms against her abdomen. He holds far enough up his own forearms that they press against her, keeping her securely held against his chest.

Joel closes his eyes. For a brief moment, he succumbs to the embrace; to the gentle clop of Callus’ hooves, the calm breeze occasionally blowing Ellie’s loose ponytail hairs into the air, and her breathing against his chest. How her shoulders rise and fall with his; how they’re in rhythm with each other.

His lips find the top of her beanie and he inhales deeply, exhales just as deep. It’s so familiar to him, physical touch. Holding her face, snuggling together on the couch for movie nights, her holding his ovenmit of a hand during trips to Walmart, and kissing her forehead when they’d say goodnight. And man if he doesn’t curse at how strikingly easy it is to fall back to those old ways when this little girl is against him, his lips pressed into her beanie.

She turns and presses the side of her face against his chest. “Joel?”

“Hmm?” He mumbles, lips still pressed into her beanie, holding still.

She lifts her face slightly against his chest as his lips struggle to follow her moving beanie. She turns her head a bit more, trying to see him.

“Why can’t a nose be 12 inches?”

Oh, a new one. Joel breathes in and lets a sigh escape his lips, preparing himself for the disaster. He lifts his face from her beanie, “why?”

She sits up straighter, trying not to jostle Callus too much as she tries to face Joel. “Because then it would be a foot,” she answers, trying to contain her giggles by pressing her lips together. She cranes her neck more to try and watch Joel’s reaction intently.

“Wow,” he responds, trying a little too hard to keep his stone cold expression. “That…was terrible.”

“Oh, come on! It was a good one! You’re laughing!”

Joel shakes his head to the side, avoiding the attempted gaze and strain of her neck to see him. “Am not,” he denies, repressing the smile in his voice.

She sighs, turning back around and dropping her posture back against him. “You’re a loser.”

“Oh, I’m the loser? Someone can’t handle a little tap to her feet.”

“You kick me.”

“Oh?” he questions, tapping her right foot gently, but with enough force to send it forward into the air for a second. “I wouldn’t consider that a kick.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she sighs.

He wraps his forearms back around her middle, nearly holding his elbows to hold her close as his layers allow him. He gives her a tight squeeze as his lips find her beanie again. “Mhmm,” he smiles into the cotton, planting a light kiss to it as she relaxes into him. He breathes in the scent of the beanie. It smells like their fire from the night before; the one he taught her how to make. It smells like pine from two nights ago when she mocked his snoring, he mocked hers (nonexistent, but he sure made a convincing argument), and she balled it up and threw it at him, Joel deflecting it into a pile of pine leaves and acorns. There’s a hint of…shampoo? From when they were in Jackson and they had the chance to clean themselves up with hot water and soap.

It smells like Jackson. It smells like Tommy and that blue house they were so graciously given and the stables with that foal ‘Shimmer’ that Ellie seemed to connect with so quickly. It smells like fresh wood and whiskey and home cooked casseroles and morning coffee. It smells like home.

Now, come dawn, we’re going our separate ways.

No, he definitely didn’t mean what he said.

~~~

Tags: @not-so-mundane-after-all (thank you so much for posting what you did) @sentientmasstransit @memelovescaps @tloubraininfection @tlouobsessed @fieldsoftulips @bejeweledmp3 @swol-bear @cassianendor @bluestar22x @elliiewiilliiams @longl0ngtime @dancealongthelightofday @protectorsjoel @joelxmiller @scootkiddo @astrasomnium @fallenstar07

I have just simply tagged you cute people that I always love seeing in my notifications. If you want to be taken off bc you don’t like me or hate fics, please tell me. Or, if you’re someone who’d like to be tagged for any future fics, feel free to ask me :)

[k2ntwo]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A bunch of writers that I follow have already been tagged and responded @helloliriels @khorazir @7-percent @discordantwords @totallysilvergirl to name just a few. Now I have a few new things to read that I somehow missed the first time around as well as a bunch of old favorites to go and re-read. So much good fic is out there by so many talented writers!

In the spirit of adding to folk’s ever growing MFL list I’ll just pile onto the bandwagon with my answers as well.

 1.  How many works to you have on AO3?

56 although there are several collections of snippets that technically could be counted separately. On AO3 I'm KtwoNtwo.

2.  What’s your total AO3 word count?

496,860

3.  What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Sherlock Holmes (most all iterations from ACD to Sherlock) and James Bond.  However, I dabble in a good number of other fandoms upon occasion.

4.  What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Metamorphosis

Conversations from Q-Branch

50 Reasons (The Q-Branch Edition)

A Rare Breed

Brothers Three

5.  Do you respond to comments?

Yes, even if its just a “I’m glad you liked it.”  The only ones I don’t respond to are the generic solicitations to join some random contest or fic publishing website.  Those get blocked and reported.

6.  What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, I don’t really write major angst but The Four Riders has got a bit as does the poem Gun in the Drawer though they both end on a hopeful note.

7.  What’s the Fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings but probably A Toast to the Science of Deduction resolves the happiest of the lot.

8.  Do you get hate on fics.

Nope.  Only got one anonymous troll alleging trademark infringement due to a title.  I fired back a factual rebuttal: basically "there is no book by that name by that author, there is no lawyer by that name, you didn’t provide contact information and btw trademark doesn’t work the way you allege" then added a set of quotation marks to the title.  Never heard anything more about it.

9.  Do you write smut?

I have but I’m not terribly good at it.  Most of the time the characters look at me then politely, or not so politely, shut the bedroom door in my face.

10.  Do you write crossovers?

Oh God Yes!  Technically I think I write fusions, where both fandoms end up in the same universe, as opposed to crossovers but I’m rather unclear on the difference between same so I tend to just call 'em crossovers and leave it at that. 

11.  Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I could find or prove.  I did have a couple of strange search results pop up with my use name and some fic titles attached but the websites all seem to be defunct now.

12.  Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13.  Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

14.  What’s your favorite ship?

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

15.  What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There’s a fic based on a song by Abney Park that I’ve got an outline for but it never seems to go anywhere.

16.  What are your writing strengths?

I can merge and/or crossover all sorts of different fandoms. 

17.  What are your writing weaknesses?

Typos and punctuation.  Being slightly dyslexic I can’t spot the former and I never know if I’m using commas correctly or not.

18.  Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I actively avoid doing so because I’d butcher it badly.

19.  First fandom you wrote for?

Emperor’s Edge by Lindsay Buroker.  I will admit that I wrote in my head, but never got around to put on paper, a number of Star Trek stories when I was significantly younger.

20.  Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I like all of them for different reasons.  The one I’m most proud of however is The Emerald Falls my Study in Emerald inspired ACD Fic.

I'd love to have some of the artists/podcasters respond to this with whatever modifications are necessary to fit the medium involved. Hours of podcast or number of artworks as opposed to number of words for example. @podfixx @bluebellofbakerstreet if you haven't responded to this thing already and I just missed it.

[twogyuu]

We Can Just Dance to This

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff(?), angst(?), dirty dancing!au, summer love, good girl gone bad(but Chan's not a bad guy?)

Warnings: I mean . . . it's a dirty dancing!au so mildly suggestive but no explicit smut

WC: ~1.7k

A/N: This has been sitting in the WIP pile for who knows how long and the thousands of bulletpoints I added to this document went nowhere 😀

Originally inspired by the movie, Dirty Dancing and Dance To This by Troye Sivan ft. Ariana Grande. Happy reading 💙

. . . .

He didn’t belong in this town. 

He didn’t belong in this family resort. 

This wasn’t the dance studio he dreamed of: a musty cabin built over thirty years ago tucked away on a hill in the woods. The interior was redesigned to mimic a poor excuse of a studio. Mirrors lined one wall, though over the years they were stained with oily fingerprints from the young children of the guests who came by for lessons. The large screen windows revealed too much of the intimacy and vulnerability that came with the art. Dirt tracked from climbing the dusty stone stairs filled the grit of the floor tiles and flies were starting to get stuck in the bright overhead lights above. It was a shame that the resort was most popular in the summer – the age old fan hardly cooled anyone off these days. 

Lee Chan did, however, belong on the dance floor. 

He deserved to be in the spotlight on some big stage in LA or New York City. 

Somewhere, along side a pop star or shining under the spotlight himself.

You decided this was certain as you watched him expertly move his body to the Normani’s ‘Motivation’ from the corner of the resort dance studio. It was almost as if the music emanated from his core and flowed through his limbs to his finger tips. You were in utter awe of how he paid attention to every detail of his move, from the way his feet were positioned in a perfect crisscross to the point of his fingers. 

“It lasts longer if you take a picture,” Chan chuckled breathlessly as he made his way towards you. He kneeled and settled in a spot in front of you. 

You were so lost in him, you didn’t even notice the change in pace of the song – an entirely new one playing at that. You ignored the way your cheeks heated up, handing him over a water bottle that he hastily gulped down. You tucked your knees into your chest, resting your chin atop them as you peered at him quietly. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. You didn’t want to, but you did take note of the way his veins bulge along his arms.

“You’re good,” you mumbled. 

He stopped mid-drink and side eyed you, frowning. “You’ve been watching all this time and it’s just good?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “It’s not like I know much about dance . . . you looked skilled?”

Silence, then a beat. 

Chan leaned forward on his hands, his head tilted slightly and a playful smile tugging at the right corner of his lip. 

“What are we gonna do with you, baby?” he teased in a low voice. You could feel his breath grazing across your cheek.

You froze. 

Baby.

The nickname felt different coming from him. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t, simply shrinking back. 

He stayed like this a while longer; you, internally squirming under his gaze. You hoped your demeanor was stoic and didn’t show the way a simple lazy look from him could stir so much in you. 

After a moment, Chan slid back. He gave you one last look before getting up and making his way to the speaker set up. He swiped at his phone connected to by the AUX cord, ceasing Jason Derulo’s falsetto in ‘Want To Want Me’, replacing it with the electronic piano of ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars. 

You furrowed your brows in confusion as he sauntered over, one hand tucked in the pocket of his baggy sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips. His smile had spread into a grin as the strumming of the guitar and percussion began. 

Chan extended a hand in your direction. Dumbfounded, your gaze flickering from his hand to his face and back.  

“Dance with me,” he asked. “Let’s see what you can do.”

The longer you hesitated, his confidence began to falter like a middle school boy being rejected by his crush. Chan gulped as he felt his throat constrict – the last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward between you and him. After all, you had to see each other all summer and there weren’t many places to hide around here. Even if he hadn’t danced with you yet, he could’ve sworn, there was chemistry, at the very least a spark between you and him. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?

Finally, you gingerly placed your hand in his and pushed yourself off the floor. He released a small breath of relief, eyes examining your fingers settled in his. He chortled softly at your baby pink painted nails – chipped and outgrown. It was fitting for you for some reason. 

“I don’t actually know what to do,” you said anxiously. 

“Wait,” Chan held out a hand to you. 

Great – you already fucked up and you haven’t even started. 

“You should take off your sneakers,” he pointed at them. 

“Why?” 

“So you don’t step on my feet,” he peered down at his sock-covered toes. 

“Fair, I guess.”

“Relax,” he told you, noting how stiff you were. Chan led you to the center and positioned your hands: one on his shoulder, the other resting his own hand. “Just follow along, hm?”

“Easier said than done,” you grumbled. 

The hairs along your spine pricked up when you felt the warmth of his hand settle on the small of your back. 

“We’ll start with a simple square waltz,” Chan explained. “I step back, you step forward, then to the right – so on and so forth to make a square.”

You looked up, trying your best to memorize the steps. 

The first few times, you stumbled. He was right to make you take off your shoes. Even looking at your feet, you stepped on his toes a few times, apologizing profusely, while the dancer just laughed and reassured you.

“Relax,” Chan said again, “Feel the music and move with it. Let it guide you.”

You peered up from the ground and caught his gaze, his eyes amused and warm. He nodded at you encouragingly and stepped forward. Instinctively, you stepped back. 

“Good,” he chuckled. 

 After a few rectangles and triangles, you were finally starting to get the hang of it. Though the Bruno Mars song had faded into ‘Night Changes’ by One Direction, you were able to keep up with the faster beat. A feeling of accomplishment filled your chest at this, eliciting an excited smile on your face. 

“Cute,” Chan said softly. 

You looked at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked teasingly. 

“Nothing,” you muttered. You looked behind him, met with the reflection of you and him moving in sync in the mirror. The steps were simple, but you with him . . . looked right. 

Feeling something funny in your chest, you looked out through the screen windows, clearing your throat loudly. 

“Didn’t take you for a Directioner?” you commented. 

“It’s a nice song,” Chan offered. You shivered at the way his lips grazed against your ear. 

“Noted – Lee Chan, directioner.”

He rolled his eyes, chortling at the tease. 

“Wanna take this a step further?” Chan challenged.

“Is this payback for making fun of you?”

“You could say so,” he shrugged, pulling back to look at you. “I’ll spin you and then twirl you out.”

“Don’t let go?” you said immediately. The irrational fear of him letting you go and the momentum of the spin taking you crashing into something overtaking you. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chan didn’t warn you, letting go of your waist and raising his hand for you to rotate under. The rest was a blur, the room turning white as the colors mixed together and you felt your forearms stretch. 

Before you knew it, you were enveloped back in his arms – though closer than before, your chests flushed against one another. You could feel the rise and fall of his every breath; perhaps even the beat of his heart, and it was fast. The music seemed to have faded and it was only the mix of his and your heavy breathing.

If his eyes were warm before, they were swarming with something else now – you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Curiosity overtaking you, you reached up and swept his bangs out of his eyes, fingers lingering in his locks to no avail. His dark orbs scanned over your face, flickering from your own eyes to your lips. He looked a little too long – enough for  you to know what was on his mind as much as your own. 

You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, his other gripping around your waist. The press of each finger seeping warmth into your skin, though this time, you were less anxious as you were lost in him. 

In fact, you almost welcomed it. 

Chan leaned in, hesitantly pressing his lips against your own plush ones as if to test the water first. When you kissed back, you could feel him relax, almost falling into you as you stumbled back to steady yourself and him. He smiled into the kiss, his hand coming up to adjust your neck for better access to your lips. 

The seconds melted into minutes, minutes suddenly into infinite. 

When you felt him pull away, you opened your eyes slowly, one after another. Chan breathing shallowly, a silly, tight smile stretched across his face as he tried to hold in his laughter. 

He wasn’t laughing at you, but rather out of joy. 

Lips swollen, you sucked in your bottom lip in between your teeth, a faint taste of his mint gum lingering. 

“You’re not completely hopeless,” he muttered, breaking the silence in an attempt to tease you. However, it didn’t feel as such. 

You scoffed and pressed a hand against his chest, silently asking him to let you go after ruining the moment. 

But he didn’t. 

In fact, he only pulled you closer. 

How about it, baby?” Chan asked. “Help me out for the summer?”

You looked back at him. 

Playfulness? 

Maybe that’s what it was in his eyes – or lust?

“I . . . don’t see why not.”

You were interested, to say the least, and for once, you wanted to take the leap of faith.

Take a chance on him.

Take a chance on yourself.

Perhaps, you could become something more than the sweet and obedient 'baby' everyone else knew and adored.

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by these two lovelies @inafieldofdaisies and @socially-awkward-skeleton thank you!! 💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @statichvm @aceghosts @jillvalentinesday @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch

Originally intended for this to be a flufftober prompt but seeing as it’s November now I figured I’d just post it here and maybe I’ll work it into something else in the future. Anyway, enjoy a sweet little moment where Bix gets to see a side of Imogen that no one else does

The market bustled at this time of day, before the suns reached their apex and the cool morning breeze still lingered in the air. The vast collection of goods were just as diverse as the eager patrons who traveled from stand to stand, filling their bags and baskets with fresh produce from all over the galaxy.

Bix surveyed the crowd carefully, occasionally watching Imogen by her side to gauge her demeanor. Like always, the other woman kept her expression and body language mostly neutral, though no one found her intense gaze very pleasant to perceive for too long. Bix laced their fingers together proudly and Imogen gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

A Mon Calamari raised their voice at a Rodian shop owner close by as they aggressively bartered, and once again, Bix checked Imogen’s reaction. Only, the bounty hunter hadn’t so much as spared a glance in that direction, she seemed much more focused on something else. The mechanic tracked her eyeline to a stall stockpiled with exotic fruits. Immediately, Bix grew suspicious of the vendor. 

The elderly Togruta woman smiled and offered samples of her stock to passers by. Nothing about her seemed particularly off, but clearly something piqued Imogen’s interest enough to hold her attention above all other stalls. 

Bix leaned in and whispered “What is it? What do you see?”

Imogen glanced at her questioningly and shook her head. “Nothing, I was just… let us move on.”

Curiosity planted Bix’s boots firmly on the ground as Imogen attempted to lead them away. She looked back at the stand and back at Imogen, noting the slight longing in her steel gray eyes. She realized Imogen had not been staring at the Togruta at all… she had been admiring the ripe, colorful fruits. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I am alright,” she answered dismissively. 

“But you want some fruit,” Bix stated, a smile slowly growing across her lips.

“I do not.” Imogen avoided her gaze, but it still flicked over to the pile of fruit briefly as she gently urged Bix to follow her. “Let us continue.”

The mechanic shrugged and slipped out of her grip. “Suit yourself, but I’m getting something.”

“Bix,” Imogen called ineffectually as the woman made her way over to the stall.

The Togruta woman greeted them both as they approached and Bix took in the impressive display before her. Everything from desert plums to meiloorun fruit to a few she couldn’t even name caught her eye. All of them were so ripe that a pleasant waft of sweetness flowed into her lungs as she inhaled. She picked up a few and inquired about the ones she was unfamiliar with. Imogen remained silent, though Bix noted her eyes linger on a purple fruit with jagged white stripes.

“I’ll take a few of these, too,” Bix announced to the vendor and pointed at the jogan fruit. She sensed Imogen’s smirk even though she pretended not to notice. 

The vendor gathered their purchase and handed a bundle of fruit to Bix as she accepted the credits. Once they walked away, Imogen reached over and grabbed a jogan out of its container. 

“You are not subtle,” she remarked playfully.

“Neither are you.” Bix threw her a knowing look and motioned at the fruit in her hand. “You couldn’t take your eyes off these, I was starting to get jealous.”

“They are fantastic in a tart,” Imogen stated factually and pulled out a small blade from her belt. 

Bix watched her slice through the soft flesh of the jogan fruit, carving out a bite-sized piece to offer her before serving herself. Bix gladly accepted it. “I didn’t know you liked, well, anything sweet.”

Imogen gave her one of those rare, genuine smiles that made the world stop spinning for a moment. “You know better than anyone that there are a few indulgences I am unable to resist.” 

Even though it was such a simple thing, the mechanic adored this side of the bounty hunter. The way Imogen’s eyes sparkled with a bit of joy as she shared her favorite fruit made warmth bloom in Bix’s chest. It was a glimpse of the way things could be one day. The two of them could visit all sorts of markets, trading stories on foods they grew up on, ones they tried and hated, and what they were willing to taste for the first time together. It was one of the more naive daydreams perhaps, but one of the very few Bix did not mind imagining as her arm looped through Imogen’s once again.

[nouklea]

Fic Tag Game!

I was tagged by @beri-allen, @writerrose1998, @cosmic-lullaby and @wileyonce. Thanks! <3

20 questions below the cut:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

16

2. What’s your AO3 word count?

136,228

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Wednesday for now. I used to write for StarWars (see question 12) but no traces remains from that era.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Woe of Wrath

I'm on my Way

Variations on a Main Theme - 1

A Second Chance for a First Impression

Five Minutes Earlier

5. Do you respond to comments?

As much as possible. Usually I respond to every comment, even if it's just to say a quick Thank You. The only fic on which I haven't done that is Woe of Wrath, if fell into limbo and I have a hard time focusing on it right now. And I feel kind of weird to answer comments after several months of silence, but the more I wait the weirder it gets...

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Doomed is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat fic. The entire text is dark, including the ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I will go with Double-Date With Dad. Farewell Xavier Thorpe ends on a really good note too (if you are not a fan of Xavier).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

It never happened. Fingers crossed.

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

I try. I find it difficult for two reasons. First, it's tough to avoid clichés. When you read smut, you end up noticing some general patterns, and I do my best to stay away from those. Second, I'm not a fan of some popular kinks, for instance I can't stand the expression "good girl", and therefore I'm not interested in writing it, even if I keep reading authors that use them. Some people probably think my smut fics are boring, too soft, too ordinary. But I don't care (yeah, I do, but shh).

10. Do you write cross-overs?

No. And I have a really hard time reading cross-overs too. And I hate cross-overs in tv shows. Complete respect to authors, however. It's just not my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I guess I could translate my own fics in French since it's my native language, but for now I don't see any reason to do so.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I did. It was a weird kind of toxic partnership. The other person was responsible for writing the general plot (because my ideas weren't good enough), and I had to turn every page he wrote into a three-pages long section, adding descriptions and filling the blanks. And correct the spelling and grammar, and add better vocabulary...

13. What WIP would you like to finish but doubt you ever will?

I hope I will finish every WIP I currently have, even if they tend to pile up (WIP bunnies...). My biggest challenge is to go back to Woe of Wrath. It is my first fic, it is a multi-chapter one, and I started to write it just to let the steam out after a twenty-years-long writing hiatus, so the outline was not super clear, there are many plot holes I try to fix, the sentences and vocabulary are bad... I know where I want to take the story and how it ends, but it's hard not to want to start over.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

For fanfics I'll say Weyler because it's the only thing I've ever written. Now besides that... For those who read Guy Gavriel Kay, I'm forever bound to the Diarmuid/Sharra ship, followed by Paul/Jaelle. Quite fond of the Clary/Jace ship in The Mortal Instruments (The books! Don't talk to me about the movie or the tv show!)

15. What are your writing strengths?

No damn idea. I've been asking myself the same question since I was thirteen.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably not being able to answer question 15. Imposter syndrome.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In French it's not a problem, of course. I've done it in Impulsion. I have studied Latin for two years in highschool so I felt comfortable enough to translate a few sentences in Woe of Wrath. For other languages, I would only do so if I can find a beta reader fluent in this specific language to correct the grammar. I cringe everytime I read English fics with badly written French dialogs, it makes me loose the focus on the story (Same for tv shows, by the way. Come on, you have 2 millions $ to produce an episode and you can't find someone to double-check your French sentence?). It's really hard for me not to comment with a correction (AO3 etiquette: do not provide corrections unless the author specifically asked for it). I don't want to inflict that on my readers by butchering their native language.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars. It was a long time ago (in a galaxy far far away), when there were only three movies and a few books (Timothy Zahn forever!). And for those who wonder how old I am, I used to write with WordPerfect, DOS version (it was the pre-Windows era). It had a blue background (terrible for the eyes) and some keycodes you had to use to change the font to bold or italics. Since you can't visualize anything in DOS (it's not a wysiwyg), it used colors, so you had to remember what it meant (yellow letters meant italics...). And I used to save those texts on a floppy my mom took to her office to print.

19. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It's not a popular one, but I really like Monologue for a Hyde. I like the tone. Pretty happy with Fuck Me Once Shame on You, Fuck Me Twice Shame on Me, too.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

Woe of Wrath without a doubt. With a proper plan, and a lot of plot holes avoided (that damn cellphone...)

I will tag the Death Metal and Glitter Club members whose Tumblr ids I know, aka @anotherbluesunday, @tastethesetears, @darling-gemini, @darlingfuego,

As well as @broken-everlark, @persephoneed, @bithablu, @allergictocolor and @insomniac1994.

[inquisitor-gayfax]

✨ Fic Planning and Outlining ✨

Outlining is a huge part of my writing process and something I love talking about, so since I’m currently suffering something of a writer’s block, I’ve put together a step-by-step explanation of my process below. It is important to note that there is no right answer or best way to outline; as with most things it’s just a matter of finding what works best for you!

I would love it if other folks chimed in and added to this with their own tips and tricks!

Let’s learn from each other!

Outlining Tools & Overall Organization

To start with, I use OneNote to organize everything, but there are a ton of programs out there, and you could even do this with different .txt/word files! The main reasons I like OneNote: (1) oo pretty colored tabs (2) tab folders for making sense of the giant pile of WIPs:

So, I have all the things I’m “actively” working on out in the open, then squirrel away everything else in one of five categories: completed (yay!), short, medium, and long WIPs, then a catch-all category for everything that doesn’t really fit anywhere else.

The Outlining Process

To demonstrate and (hopefully) have a little fun, I’m going to pick a half-baked idea from the “WTF – Miscellany” category and create a new tab as if I’m actually going to write it! So, without further ado, let’s dive in and begin outlining for a multi-chapter AU fic wherein Rogal Dorn and Perturabo are high school girls’ volleyball coaches!

First Page: Tags ‘n Such

I often hear that tags can be the hardest part for writers, which is interesting because this is usually where I start! Something about seeing my fic in the summary format it will eventually appear in on AO3 is very motivating to me, and helps guide my writing. You can always add/change later.

Here is the template I use for easy copy/pasting!

Title: Fandom(s): Rating: Category: Archive Warnings: Relationship(s): Character Tags: Other tags: Summary:

And here’s a screenshot of my first pass for this WIP:

This gives me a chance to talk about one of my FAVORITE writing hacks, which is… [BRACKET TEXT].

I don’t know about everyone else, but my brain consistently feels the need to get everything perfect on the first try, which is very unhelpful and actively counter-productive! I’ve found that when I can’t get the phrasing of something just right, or I’m still not sure what I’m going for, putting some brackets around the text in question and just scribbling whatever’s in my mind at the moment allows me to move on without getting bogged down.

If it’s in brackets, I give myself permission to be silly, OOC, anachronistic, or messy, and boy is it a lifesaver sometimes.

Once I have the AO3 info fields done, I draw a little line below the summary and start filling in what I call the “brainstorm space” (that inevitable turns into a mini-outline I need to move over to another page at some point). This is another place I allow myself to be messy. I scribble down thoughts on narrative structure, inspirations, setting, key moments/scenes, themes, motifs, stuff I absolutely need to include, and any overarching things that will be helpful to have before planning in earnest.

Here’s what it looks like for this fic:

Not much there now, but it’s a start, and that’s what outlining is all about!

Second Page: Detailed Outline

A bit of a note here – I used to have a separate page for a “mini-outline,” i.e. a less detailed version, but the brainstorm space basically serves this purpose now, so it’s less common.

This is where the actual structural planning starts to take place. I’ve gotten into the habit of using bracket text here, too, to serve as shorthand summaries of each point. For a multi-chapter fic, I’ll also make sure to note where I think the chapter boundaries will fall, though obviously this is subject to change.

So, a barebones one for this fic might look something like this:

There’s not much there right now, but that’s fine, because (1) it’s in bracket text and (2) this is just the skeletal structure for what comes next: filling it in as you get inspiration.

My brain tends to want to write longfics, but never linearly, of course. Sometimes I get raw bursts of inspiration for scenes, so the way I work with this is to scribble (on my phone, on the computer, in a physical notebook) whatever it is down at the moment I get it, then plug it in to the existing outline later. This way, I end up building a pretty comprehensive plan for the fic before I even open a word document, and it’s easier to make big choices like chapter contents, scene order, and story progression without feeling like I need to tear apart something that’s already fairly set in stone.

Here's an example of what a partially filled-in outline looks like, from my Celefax Gothic Mystery AU WIP:

Note that this one is in chart form, which is what I usually go with for longfics for better separation of scenes and ideas.

Pagestravaganza: Additional Pages for Longfics

For one-shots and shorter multi-chapter fics, typically the Tags/Brainstorming and Detailed Outline pages are enough to get me ready to write, but for longfics, there’s a lot more to think about, and additional places to take notes can be helpful.

Here’s an example of all the pages in the tab for that Celefax AU I mentioned above, which has a lot of characters and worldbuilding and all sorts of things that would be difficult to encapsulate in an outline alone:

For one of my other longfic WIPs, I also have a page where I write down revision notes for the parts I’ve already written as they come to me, so it’s easy to refer back to during the editing process (which I could write a whole other post about).

Another thing I sometimes like to do, especially for one-shots or fics that are from only one character’s POV, is write out a paragraph or two about character emotional arcs. Plot is great, but it can be hard to know where that takes you if you don’t know where each character is starting out and where they end up.

To summarize: The sky’s the limit here. Whatever you need to do to make sure everything comes together, however you need to organize it, however little makes it into the final draft, your outlining/planning document is for you, and you shouldn’t get too bogged down into what needs to be there or whether it’s clean and pretty. As long as it’s helpful to you, it is serving its purpose admirably, and even if it isn’t you’re still learning what does and doesn’t work for you. The way I outline is a constantly evolving process, and different things work for different fics. Feel free to play around!

Writing the Dang Thing

This is the end result, the task for which all your outlining has (hopefully) prepared you!

I’ll be honest: I loathe first drafts. (See above comment about everything needing to be perfect the first time around.)

It’s probably for this reason that I outline so fastidiously, because when I plop my bracket text outline and any pre-written snippets into my first draft, it feels so much less daunting than staring at a blank page.

I can start to fill in the pieces I neglected (scene setting, always), figure out where there might be a need for more connective tissue, and tackle the bite-sized chunks my bracket text outline has created one at a time.

I keep doing that until, ta da! A workable first draft emerges, and we move on to editing, my beloved.

Hopefully this has been interesting/helpful, and please please pleeeeease feel free share your own methods and thoughts and funny bracket text!

[todderwodders]

WIP Wednesday pt. 2

Tavtash me baby

“Apparently, they had a wedding recently.”

“Oh? Were you invited in for roast babe and sauced toddler?”

“Perish the thought of Bhaalists having decorum. No. We saw the bride and groom happily drying out like a stalk of herbs by the front door.”

“Horrible,” he says with a laugh, “I always did think marriage a nasty business.”

“Too true. Do you think they even got into bed before they died? Certainly puts a sour note on the whole til death do us part business.”

“Mm, with that lot, they’d have propagated twelve times by now and the latest babe is either apart of the dinner feast or so adapt with a knife that they’re off happily cutting up anyone they can get their hands on in honor of their beloved papa and mama.”

“I suppose you would know,” she says, leaning back against her pillows. The night air sparks heavy. The girl twines her hair around one finger, eyes off to the side. Thoughtful.

“It’s all about some kind of final, grand sacrifice - that love between two devotees must be bled out into some horrifying maw —I forget the rest,” he doesn’t, and the girl quirks an eyebrow but says nothing as she sits up, pouring more wine into his cup. It is a white, with enough added water and sugar that he nearly forgets he’s drinking and not simply sucking down juice. He makes a face.

“Awful stuff, I know,” the girl agrees, sliding the crystal decanter onto its tray of ice.

The tray, for its part, was leaking, soaking the tablecloth and puddling out to the edges. The girl flicks her claws as she settles back down. He leans over, and he will say he took her cup, not that he was handed it, and sips the watered wine out of his mouth. They sit in that silence, as he lets the condensation and radiant cold prick at his toughened fingertips and she looks at the slowly purpling sky. The party feels far away, the Brain closer than ever, and yet—-

“That’s how it always was at a patriar’s party - flash everywhere, with piss poor wine and leaking trays piled high with too much ice,” she says suddenly. Enver feels something like a laugh cross his lips, taking another drink.

“During a heat wave at that.”

“Your luck, or my luck - did you see the meat?”

“You think I can afford confining myself to the lavatory? No, parties are not for food, as you know. The finger meats always taste off, the wine cut, and the sweets a day old and soggy.”

“All could be resolved by less ice in the wine, more ice on the finger food until the moment of serving, and a baker brought into the house in the morning. It’s hardly a difficult plan to conceive.”

“That would require someone knowing what they’re doing, fruit.” Enver could always tell when a house was poorly run - and that was many - simply by looking at the kitchens. Bad management and little sense doled out by chefs with no patience or too much leniency, leaving greasy floors and rat filled larders in their wake. This is why he always eats at home.

The girl laughs. Quiet, mildly indignant, but a laugh all the same. Her teeth flash in the evening light. He finds his hand sliding to her ankle to the sole of her bangled foot.

“Fruit! You are funny.”

He opens his mouth, she holds up a hand. “Because I am so exotic and sweet?”

He leans in, a smile forming before he can stop it. His thumb swipes against her skin. She will like this one.

“Because if I put you between my lips, you’ll produce the loveliest juice I will have ever tasted.”

“Hah!” She cackles, covering her mouth to hide the noise. “What a thing to say to a young lady,” she dabs at her dry eye, though her cheeks are still colored. “It’s almost as if you try to take my balance.”

“I cannot help myself if I take a certain glee in seeing you smile.”

“I say the same thing several times a day.”

“And if I mean it?”

“I think you mean very little of what you say - though it is entertaining, to see you act so. I would not think a man who has learned what he has - how he has - would indulge in little affairs. Where do you keep your papers? I did not find them in Moonrise.”

“They are in my safekeeping, fruit. Perhaps when you have the time and we both no longer run the risk of enslavement, you may look at them, if you are so curious.”

“Well. Whatever am I to do with my scant few hours of rest each day? Sleep, I suppose. Eat, maybe.”

“Yes. Your life is full of burdens and obligations.”

“The load would be lighter if only you shared a little. That slack skinned head …”

“Squeamish, are we? Such a soft touch, aren’t you?”

“Please. It was fascinating. You do not need to be told what a marvel it is. But how did you do it?”

He watches her. Watches, and wonders.

She tilts her head. the string of carmine twined round her horns clatter and swing with the movement.

“You want to know?”

“Aye.”

“Well—- where shall I begin? Probably around the time I uncovered how to wipe and rewrite Gith disks…”

[incorrectcoldflashblog]

🌹📓

Hi, anon! Thank you so much for the ask <3

Most recently written line from a WIP

“It was you proving a point.”

The plot to a fic I haven’t written/probably won’t write

Oh, this is a hard one for me because I still have hope I’ll be able to write ALL of my fic ideas eventually, even if it takes me ten years and by then there’s not a single soul left to write or read Coldflash XD

Oh, wait, I did have an idea for a fic that I probably won’t write and it was an AU where Barry is hit by a love spell, but it only works on him because Len is already in love with him. At least, that’s what I wrote in my notes, haha, I don’t even remember why I added that caveat but I’m sure I had a good reason^^ The description of the fic in my doc is literally just, “Set about a month after 2x09. Season 2 AU where Len doesn’t get to hop on a timeship to escape his feelings for Barry and actually has to deal with them.” The reason I probably won’t write this is that I really don’t have much of a plot at the moment, and also I always find Love Spell fics a little dicey in terms of, like, establishing that the spell may be the catalysis but the feelings are still real. I think it would be really hard to convince Len in particular that Barry isn’t just feeling that way about him because of the spell, even once it has worn off. So, yeah, just another idea for the “probably won’t write” pile, although I suppose you can never say never and maybe I’ll go back to this one if I ever come up with a plot that really works for me!

Emoji Ask Game

[noficbyhalves]

I was scrolling the Altaïr tag when I came across your wip snippet with Malik and the magic cell phone and im so curious and also just really love the way you wrote him and I'm dying to see more <3

Congrats friend on activating my single remaining spoon in order to mostly finish this scene (it would've been real nice if it did that for something useful, like cleaning the bathroom, but here we are). Have some more Malik al-Sayf, Disaster Wizard (and Altair not-yet-ibn-La'Ahad, being a Completely Different kind of disaster):

It was muscle memory more than anything that dragged Altair out of the dungeons and up the stairs. He didn't know what would have happened if he encountered anyone on the way there. By the time he got to the room, his heart was pounding so loud he could barely hear his own footsteps.

Malik's repeated trials had shown that the room only worked if it could make your thoughts into a place, but the only thought in Altair's head was MalikMalikMalik. A door appeared anyway. It occurred to him, when his hand was already on the handle, that there might have been something specific he was supposed to have asked for that he had forgotten entirely. With no other options and his heart rabbiting wildly, he pushed the door open.

The room inside was surprisingly large, and gave the impression of being half hideout, half library. There was a cot in the corner, and a long low table off to one side, positively covered in open tomes and piles of notes and diagrams. In the middle of it all was Malik, wand tucked behind his ear, scowling at a book heavy enough to be a weapon. His face was doing that twitching thing it sometimes did when he was focusing very intently. He looked gaunt, Altair realized, haggard and tired, the bags under his eyes large enough to swallow the sun. How had he not noticed earlier? The thought sunk like a stone.

[...]

Altair shoved back the hood of the cloak, trying to form a barely-adequate apology for the days-long delay. When he glanced back at Malik, the smile creeping across his face made Altair's chest ache. It softened the harsh lines of his brow and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Not a brilliant, bright-eyed, look-at-this-shit grin, but a quiet, gentle smile. The kind of smile he associated with late nights and starry skies, the feeling that they were the only two people in the world.

Altair pulled Malik into a crushing hug, making him squawk in mild surprise, mostly to prevent himself from doing anything stupid (like kissing him on the mouth). The solid, grounding pressure of Malik's arm curling around his back was an added bonus. If Altair was struggling not to cling to him the feeling was at least mutual.

"Altair?" Malik said. Altair didn't even know how to answer. He clutched Malik tighter, hoping to communicate the tangled nest of emotions churning in his chest. Malik let him – always let him – hugging him back just as fiercely and waited for him to untangle his thoughts. 

"My summer was horrible," he finally mumbled into Malik's shoulder, when the silence became unbearable.

Malik made a noise that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Really? I couldn't tell."

All of Altair's words seemed caught in his throat. I miss you. I need you. I lo- "I should've gone back with you," he croaked.

"We're not doing should'ves," Malik said, squeezing him once more before slowly pulling back. "Only way out is through, and all that rot."

The only way out had – up until that point – looked like painful, horrible death, but Altair chose not to mention that.

"Speaking of," Malik said, gesturing to the portion of the room behind Altair, "we should probably get started."

When he turned, he startled at the giant sprawling runic design taking up the other half of the space. He had no idea how he had missed it. (He knew exactly how he had missed it.) The whole thing could easily have spanned his grandfather's gilded dining table twice over, made up of swirls and eddies of finger-length runes that even creeped up the walls a good few feet. Altair had no earthly idea what most of the individual symbols meant, much less why some were chalked and some were painted and some were carved into the stone. Suddenly the exhaustion on Malik's face made a horrifying amount of sense.

"What? I- what is that?"

"Somewhere between my magnum opus and my sleep paralysis demon," Malik commented dryly. "I'm calling it a Sanctumancy Rig."

[serenefig]

13, 17, and 19 for the ask game!

40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers | Accepting

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Oh geez that's a tough one. I think it might be the advice I got from another ADHDer. Mind you I'm paraphrasing here.

"Everyone says 'write every day even if you don't have motivation', and that's fine if you do! But if you can't eek out a single sentence, give yourself permission to just not. If aren't having fun with your writing, it's okay to wait."

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

The answer is yes! I do both. It depends on the story. If it's a one-shot it'll be start to finish (*stares at my wip pile*), otherwise I'll just write a small scene and drop it in my notes document. Also depends on how much planning I'm doing. For Two Sides of the Same Coin (AO3 | FFN) I wrote the end, then the beginning, realised I needed more info, added a new beginning and now the first beginning is now the middle. However with my unposted Skyrim long-fic, I'm doing that one in order because it's easier to take notes while playing the game.

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

They come out every once in a while and bash me upside the head. I like to think I do. I am a very slow writer and it often times feels like I'm pulling teeth when I'm trying to get out onto paper what I'm seeing in my head, but that doesn't mean the inspiration isn't there. I don't think I have a set muse tho, so I'm not really certain if that counts.

Thanks for the asks!

[inkvoices]

"sharper and more brilliant" for the WIP meme please!

Thanks for asking! sharper and more brilliant is a Marvel AU for the (first half of the) book Seveneves by Neal Stephenson - a hopepunk novel set at the end of the world that mainly focusses on a group of people on the International Space Station. By hopepunk, I mean very bad things happen and people work together with some optimism that it's worth fighting for things to be better, despite the fact that a happy ending is not guaranteed. (I started writing this fic in 2020. Is this an emotional support WIP? Absolutely.)

The original plan was a Clint/Nat/Bucky fic set in space. It is currently a sprawling multi-POV team fic with various background relationships including Clint/Laura/Nat that might become Clint/Nat/Bucky at some point. Eventually.

This one is a WIP for two reasons:

It's a research time suck. One of the reasons I love the novel is that it goes into a lot of detail about life in space and projects that into a potential future based on what is currently possible. For the fic to make sense, I need to include some of that content, but I don't want to just copy it, because no, plus the book was published in 2015 so there's been some new science and developments since then. And I love space and the ISS, and worldbuilding, so: RESEARCH. Except, I am a slow non-fiction reader and there is A LOT. But I'm learning things (like that the ISS has an espresso machine) and having fun!

It intimidates me. There are already over 20,000 words and I'm nowhere near the halfway point in my outline. If I ever actually manage to finish this thing it will be the longest fic I've ever written (by miles). The cast is huge and it's mixed POV - currently Shuri, Natasha, Clint, and Jane. And there is so. much. detail. I have to forget about the ARGH when I open the pile of notes and scroll down pages, but once I start working on it again I get sucked back in.

Snippet - near the start of the fic the crew of the ISS are called to a meeting, and Clint is introduced:

“Could’ve been a primordial singularity.” Shuri had to look ‘uphill’ in the curved room to find the speaker. “A small black hole,” Clint clarified at the blank expressions on most people’s faces. “One that zipped through space invisibly and punched its way through the moon and out the other side.” Clint Barton was an inch shy of the maximum height for a NASA astronaut with impressive arm muscles he'd mostly managed to maintain even in space, by making regular use of the ARED (Advanced Resistive Exercise Device) machine. An American astronomer, or as he liked to say ‘an observer of the universe’, Clint was the co-creator of the ‘Look Up’ series of children’s picture books with his wife. He had an approachable way of talking with people and was often partnered with Shuri for interviews and social media events. Shuri appealed to the younger crowd, but she had a habit of getting technical when excited while Clint had a way of making everything sound simple without making people feel stupid, although that could give a deceptive impression of his own IQ. He’d folded his long frame into a seat next to Natasha, leaving the seat on Natasha’s other side free for Shuri to slide into. "Where are you getting this after only four hours?" she complained. Clint winked. "By following the comment thread traffic and joining the ad hoc email lists emerging from that, my young Padawan." “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to read the comments?”

WIP Ask Game

[mercurialkitty]

I posted 14,951 times in 2022

93 posts created (1%)

14,858 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@saratsuzuki

@atalethatcantbetold

@zevbaldwin

@itwillalwaysbedestiel

@lifbitch

I tagged 10,290 of my posts in 2022

Only 31% of my posts had no tags

#destiel - 1,227 posts

#cas - 1,217 posts

#castiel - 1,033 posts

#misha collins - 795 posts

#destiel fan art - 505 posts

#dean winchester - 444 posts

#spn - 349 posts

#castiel fan art - 345 posts

#jack kline - 273 posts

#suptober22 - 214 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#is there a fic where jack has his angel powers and just flits back and forth between destiel saileen and kelly households? earth & heaven?

I sent 2 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I was tagged by @tuometarr (💖THANK YOU so much! 💖 ) in Fic Authors Self Rec, which does give a a great excuse to talk about my own fics so here are  my 5 fave fics I have written

Ahem, that's the tag prompt -- actually I am so new to writing, that I don't have 5 favorite fics yet, but here's what I have:

Talks with Dads - Dean and Cereal - It's super short at 875 words, but I think this is my fave thing. My obsession is repairing the Dean and Jack relationship, so this ficlet has a soft spot in my heart. I think it's sweet.

On the Road again - This is the first destiel fan fic I wrote and shared out with the world, courtesy of a @winchester-reload Suptober prompt. So I'll be forever grateful for Suptober. It represents finally getting out there and creating content even in my fandom fifties. It's short at 1,563 words, but I like it, and I put in three Willie Nelson songs via YouTube links. Really, just the song Angel flying too close to the ground is worth clicking the link.

Game Night - Again, this is me wanting to repair the relationships around Jack. This is a heart to heart between Dean and Mary in heaven. It's 2,204 words.

Road Trip for the Holidays - was my first multichapter fic. It's a pile of self-indulgent college!Jack and his family fluff, with Jack's original character friend, and just a bit of Jack and Dean regretful feelz and memories so it's not pure sugar. At 54,897 words, it's novella length, so finally a decent amount of story to get into. I love parts of it sooo much, and yet I have newbie author embarrassment about it.

Instead of a fifth fic, I'll put in a plug for my fave fic that I'm working on. It's a Season 13 fix-it fic -- the formal title not set yet. Again, it's a repair of the Dean and Jack relationship we saw in 13.01 Lost and Found. I've been working on it for a couple years, but I've joined the WIP Big Bang to "Finish your SH**" , and I feel confident about finishing. So keep an eye out for the @wipbigbang and hopefully you'll see a promo when it gets close to the publishing date.

I'm also working on a midam, but I fear that will be a long time coming.

I'll tag a few random blogs who follow me and who have AO3 links in their header or pinned post. I think most blogs are a lot bigger than mine, especially with folks who write, so this may get lost in notes or they wonder who the heck this is :)

@procasdeanating @stillwinchester @damonnscroww @bluefirecas @fellshish @luninosity

Also if anyone else wants to use this as a reason to talk about their work feel free to consider yourself tagged ☺️

16 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#4

Suptober22

Day 20 - Spa

pencil

Cas, Claire and Jack are at the spa juice bar. Cas and Jack have matching fluffy white robes from their massages. Claire was trying out lounging around with an eye mask, but that's not her thing. She's probably going to head to the pool or a cardio dance workout. Jack's considering reminding her that the eye mask is still on her head, but Claire may not mind. It makes a decent headband to keep her hair out of her eyes until she braids it.

19 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

#3

Hey folks, if you went to Rotten Tomatoes to leave a RoadFood review and didn't find the entry last week, it's been added! I know a lot of us must have asked for them to add it so soon, so congrats to us.

Tell them how great Misha is! 😇

https://www.rottentomatoes.com/tv/roadfood

22 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#2

So Adam is born on September 29 which is traditionally St. Michael's day. Dean was born in January

Adam was the true Michael sword and Chuck just ignored it because he was so obsessed with Dean.

It's like it was the universe's choice and not Chuck's.

25 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Misha photo op! Raven @magnificent-winged-beast edited it for me! (i.e., graciously took me out of the image, etc.)

And what everyone told me before is true. You think he looks good in pictures? It is nothing compared to what he looks like in person. Like maybe he has a big aura or something, but he looks even more handsome than most photographs of him. It's difficult to understand.

127 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thankyouforbeingsowrong]

WIP whenever

Tagged by @mr-iskender like a month ago, I procrastinated, then got sick, but here is a little something just in time for your birthday Alex <3

Whoever sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged!

Very tame James/Robbie bath time shenanigans below the cut, I’m not going to say which wip it’s from yet, but you’ll find out in good time :P

As if Robbie can sense James lurking behind him, he speaks without turning his head. “All set then, in you hop.” 

—

James slumps tiredly against the doorway of the bathroom, watching Robbie swirling the water with his hand, and admiring the view of a subtly toned forearm where he’s rolled up his sleeve.

When he looks up at James his face is slightly flushed and damp from the steam, and he smiles self consciously as he wipes the back of his dry hand across his brow before rising to his feet.

James stops him in the doorway as he approaches, cupping his jaw with both hands, and kissing him softly to convey his gratitude. For the bath, and everything else.

“Are you coming back?” James asks hopefully,  voice low.

“If you want me to. Just give me a minute, you get started.”

James strips down with little care, pushing the pile of clothes on the floor to one side with his foot, and rolling his shoulders to dispel the tension lingering there.

The bath smells divine as he lowers himself into the water, like citrus and spice. Spoilt by the luxury of a tub big enough for him to stretch out in even a little, he bends his knees enough to slump down until the water is gently lapping at his chin, and closes his eyes.

He hears a gentle clink of something being put down on tile.

“Try not to drown, if you can manage it.”

James smiles at the gentle admonishment, and blinks his eyes open again just in time to watch Robbie drop a cushion from the sofa on the floor next to him and kneel down. He leans his forearms on the edge of the tub (both sleeves rolled up this time, he notes). He trails his fingers along the surface of the water over James' chest.

“Will you let me do something for you?” Robbie asks.

“You don’t have to do anything else.”

“Please?” It’s barely above a murmur.

James sits up, leaning forward to kiss him again, he hopes that answer is clear enough. Wet fingers trace his cheek softly, then disappear.

“Close your eyes and tip your head back a bit.”

James furrows his brow, but does as instructed, and is rewarded with the sensation of warm water washing over his head, a carefully placed hand keeping it off his face. When the stream of water stops, he looks over at Robbie, who’s reaching for the shampoo.

“Wouldn’t this be easier if you were in here with me?” James asks, very sensibly to his mind.

Robbie freezes, arm still outstretched. “You sure? I didn’t want to presume.”

“Please?” James echoes Robbie’s quiet tone from moments ago, adding his own little smile, and is delighted to see Robbie start undoing his shirt buttons without further hesitation.

[orime-stories]

#1, 12, and 30 for the ao3 wrapped asks?

Thank you! <3 Asks here, more answers here and here.

1. How many words have you written this year?

Best estimation I can give you is about 60k words, based on the files that were only created this year. But that won't be accounting for things I've tweaked and added to files that were first created in previous years, nor the mess of stuff sprawled across the notes app on my phone. It's very hard for me to give a definitive answer on this given how chaotic my WIP pile is at any given moment (see below lol).

12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

Fifty squillion. Especially since falling into this Final Fantasy XIV rabbit hole, I'm drowning in the things. There are 142 files in various states of disarray in Aurelle's folder alone. T'nali's got a couple too, and then there's 47 files in my Baldur's Gate III girl Tesalya's folder waiting for the full game to come out so I can lock down what's happening there. And poor neglected Seluna (Pillars of Eternity) has 68 files waiting for FFXIV to release its hold on me for all of five minutes. And again, that's before we even get into the mess of snippets and passages in the notes app on my phone. (Insert my family is starving please help me manage my budget meme here.)

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Answered here!