#I’m trying to get back into writing. it’s a slow process and progress is slow but we move!

[corrodedcoughin]

It is finally the weekend after a full on month of exams. Steve knew paramedic training would be hard but the intensity of tests between gruelling placements is proving to be a lot to handle. Right now that doesn't matter, its a Friday night and his course mates decided that they should congratulate themselves for getting through the semester by going to a bar, drinking and try to be average college students instead of college students who regularly attend medical emergencies with no clue of how to help for 8 weeks blocks at a time. They've all seen their share of tragedies but they've witnessed the joys of the job too. The happy tears on the eyes of loved ones proves to Steve time and time again that he absolutely chose the right profession to study.

Robin isn't part of the course but she's come to every social event they have, just like Steve going to all of hers with her psychology friends. They are both honorary members of each other's course and are kind of expected to turn up at these things. So this is how they end up at a ridiculously busy bar with shots being shoved at them by Ali, an amazing paramedic in training but absolutely terrifying in her determination. She half arm hugs Steve and Robin, squeezing them tight.

'I love you guys. BUT you fucking cockblock each other and I'm sick of it', they start to protest in unison but are shushed by a finger to the lips.

'I just want to see you both Happy. That would make me happy. So Robin, you gotta go get that girl's number, okay?' Ali points to a girl by the stage, strawberry blonde and a toothy grin in conversation with a fluffy brown haired boy. Both of them in deep conversation, clearly excited about whatever they are talking about, pointing at the small stage and the girl bouncing on her heels. They chose this bar for their night out for the famed wild band that plays semi-regularly who draw a loyal crowd. And by the looks of things, this girl is a big fan.

'And Steve? I know a man who's perfect for your pretty boy ways. Lead singer of the band, trust me, you'll see him and not be able to stop yourself. Now drink up guys, I'm buying you your first round of bravery in a glass.' She's slurring her words a little bit but her heart is in the right place. So, with a heavy hit to their backs from Ali, they clink the tiny shot glasses together and down them.

'Guess we better get moving dingus' Robin says with a odd mix of determination and uncharacteristic confidence. She's off before Steve can reply, fluffing up her hair and rubbing any non-existent lipstick off her teeth.

Steve turns back to the bar, the whole room is dimly lit and rumbling with loud conversations and that's before the band even starts. He feels at a loss without Robin at his side but knows he'd just have to make eye contact and she'd be back. He braces himself against the bar top, wondering if he can pre-plan his attack on the front man of the band he is yet to see. The years of team sports in high school means that Steve is never one to back down from a challenge and he's been wanting to flex his old reputation of 'King Steve' for a while now so why not?

He's contemplating where the best place in the room is for ogling the band and ensuring the, apparently irresistable, lead singer sees him that Steve notices somebody has slid into the empty space next to him. Steve casts his eye over the stranger, taking in the full length of him and is pleasantly surprised. The man next to him is all long legs in black denim, big leather boots and shirt that has been so thoroughly cut at the sides he may as well just left it at home. Steve's eyes keep roaming though, over the light trail of hair left exposed from the way the man's shirt has risen that leads to his waistband. And there is jewellery, so many long chains that would be perfect to pull somebody in by, to get somebody close and under control. Steve briefly stops on the man's hands, long lithe fingers with heavy, dangerous rings that would probably feel incredible against Steve's skin now that the club has become hot and stuffy, nothing to do with the stranger in front of him of course. Steve finally raises his eyes to his face and nothing could have prepared him for the sinful smirk playing over his mouth aimed out towards the room or the deep, deep brown eyes that he really does get lost in for a second. To top it all off there's a wild mane of fluffy hair that would be perfect for Steve's hands to pull.

Steve knows he's supposed to be looking for the lead singer but who's to say he can't set his own challenge instead. The other man nods and Steve takes his chance;

'You here for the show?' Its not his finest work when trying to get in somebody's pants but its a start. The man swivels to fully face Steve and leans in like he has a secret to tell

'Sweetheart I am the show.' Its an awful line, truly and the guy clearly knows it from the way he's holding back a laugh by the end of the statement. Steve should be turned off, should walk away and tell Ali that as much as the singer may look like God's gift, his charm leaves a lot to be desired. The problem is, Steve has never wanted a person more in his life. So he tries to give a bitchy side eye but can't stop the smile tugging at his lips

'Is that right? Better tell me what name I've got to scream tonight if I'm going to have to compete with a few fans.' it is an equally pitiful line, but it makes the man raise and eyebrow in amusement and blush rise from his neck to cheeks. Steve might be wondering how far down it goes and if he could make it go further.

Steve stands his ground as the singer grabs his hand and raises it to his lips, kissing his knuckles, 'It’s Eddie, and don't worry, you'll be the only one I'm looking for on stage'

It is all so silly but it makes Steve's stomach swoop, sure he's been flirted with before but this feels like courtship from a poorly aged romcom and he can't get enough. He considers the possibility of Ali spiking that first shot. He can't help it, Steve is swaying into Eddie’s space, feels himself doing so and does nothing to stop it, waiting to see what reaction is causes in Eddie. He’s rewarded when Eddie’s gaze lingers on his lips, he still hasn’t let go of his hand, still running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Steve takes a step forward, his empty hand starting to rise with all intentions of cupping Eddie’s jaw and pulling him in. He see’s Eddies eyes start to slide almost shut, showing his own desire.

‘EDDIE, MAN C’MON! ITS SHOW TIME!’ Steve manages to bite back a groan of frustration but Eddie’s is loud and clear as they untangle.

‘Stick around after the set, yeah?’ it’s quiet, barely audible of the growing noise in the bar but Steve nods and Eddie is heading to the stage, a bounce in his step. Steve almost feels like an idiot for watching him go but then Eddie turns and starts to walk backwards, shouting at Steve;

‘Fair maiden! I never got your name!’ Steve laughs at the childishness of it all but shouts his response back. In return Eddie holds both his hands to his chest over his heart and lets his back hit against the stage door as if stunned by a name. The door is suddenly opened from behind, Eddie stumbling backwards and picked up by his bandmates, he manages to send a wink to Steve before the door closes again.

----

Steve is on his own, at the makeshift half-assessed barrier only possible at tiny bar gigs. In all honesty it would probably be safer to just take them away. He gets lost in this thought as the lights all but cut out and the band makes it to the stage. Suddenly he understands that the barrier might be more for the band than the fans. There’s a rush of people to the front of the barrier as expands and hands reach over, trying to touch Eddie. This is all before the lights even go up but seeing as the venue is tiny the lights from the bar are illuminating the stage. The fluffy haired boy from the start of the night is on drums and two other guys, pick up the instruments that were left on stage. Steve only has eyes for Eddie though, notably smiling down at his guitar.

The lights go up, Eddie leans in close to the mic, manic smile on his face and lets out a shout of ‘ALL ABOARD!’ followed by a laugh and a heavy guitar riff. From then on out it Eddie really is a show, Steve couldn’t put it better if he tried, The whole band clearly in love with what they do. There’s calls and response with the audience, jumping around the set and laughter from all of them as they clearly ride the high. Eddie engages them all in conversations during the breaks between songs, showcasing the relationship between them, making everyone wish they were part of the band too. Steve isn’t a fan of heavy music. If it had been anyone else he’d worry the gig would amount to him suffering through a set list begging for the end. But this? This is different. In Steve’s opinion these guys are destined for the big time.

Through set Eddie is never far, he prowls the stage but somehow is always paying attention to Steve, sending smiles his way. He gets really into a particular solo, fingers moving over the neck of the guitar, Steve is captivated for reasons that may include his mind wandering to what else Eddie might be able to do with his hands. Then Eddie /grinds/ against the body of the guitar and Steve feels his eyes widen his fists clench at his sides, stock still in the crowd of moving bodies. Eddie then has the audacity to make direct eye contact with Steve as he sinks to his knees and continues to play. Its safe to assume Steve doesn’t remember much else after that.

The gig wraps up to applause and foot stomping after a well received encore that Eddie threatens to stage dive in but stops himself after riling the crowd up. The band hop off stage, not needing to breakdown the stage, they have a three day stint at the bar and this is their second night according to the posters around the place. Steve turn’s to survey the area as Eddie talks with fans that descended on the band when they finished. He’s thinking about going to the bar, grabbing a drink when he sees Robin making out with the girl that was suggested to her. He averts his eyes, he loves his best friend but somethings he does not need to see. Just as he turns to make his way to the aforementioned bar Steve feels a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. Eddie is standing close and slides his hand from Steve’s shoulder to his neck, up to the back of his head.

‘Like what you saw Stevie?’ the nickname might be overly familiar in the setting but Steve really doesn’t care

‘You weren’t lying when you said you were the show’ Steve tilts his head ever so slightly to side, hinting at his wants. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his lips, almost touching and the thought is maddening. Just as Eddie pulls Steve’s face closer he murmurs ‘Could give you a private one if you ask nicely’.

Steve pushes forward, pressing his lips to Eddie’s chasing what he’s been after all night, lets his hands slide onto Eddie’s hips and under his tshirt, trailing up his back. Eddie’s hands are in Steve’s hair and one on his ass, pulling him close. Breathing hard they break apart to hear a very drunk Ali shouting

‘SEE STEVE??? ROBIN?? I KNOW YOUR TYPES!!! I KNOW ‘EM!!!’ She’s maybe been a bit too heavy handed with the shots. Without thinking Steve detaches from Eddie, walks up to Ali and ask the bartender for a glass of water. Ali slings an arm around Steve slurring her words slightly as she asks again, wanting to make sure that she was right, that she knows Steve’s type.

‘Yup, yeah you do Ali, you do. Don- Ali don’t throw the water!’ He can hear Eddie chuckling behind him, muttering something about 'Sir Steve saving the day'. Ali eyes him and whisper shouts to Steve

‘You should thank me, you’d never find him without me. Robin too. You should allllll thank me’ She’s out of it and will live to regret it in the morning. Which will be precisely when Steve will let her know that he’s actually been engaged to Eddie for coming up to a year now and Robin and her girl, Chrissy, are in talks of adopting a cat.

But that can wait, he has a boy at his back, begging to be taken home.

[melzula]

Hi, i love your stuff! Your writing is AMAZING!

Could you do a sokkaxreader fic, where reader gets majorly hurt saving sokkas life-and she almost dies and super angst but turns sweet/fluff?

-✨anon

a/n: ugh i love angst!!! tysm for requesting this <3

warnings: mentions of blood, injury,

summary: a fight gone wrong leads to an important revelation for you and Sokka

It all had happened so fast.

One minute your group is enjoying a nice breakfast together and the next you’re fighting off Azula and her minions. They’d ambushed you, catching you in a vulnerable position and striking the moment you least expected them to. You had the advantage of numbers against them, but these girls were immensely skilled, so you didn’t have enough of an edge to completely defend yourselves against their attack.

You were assisting Katara in trying to take down Azula when you happened to catch a glance of Sokka from across the way. His back was turned to you and his focus was set on trying to dodge Ty Lee’s chi blocks, so he wasn’t able to detect the blades that were being aimed in his direction. Your eyes widened with panic as you quickly make your way towards him; you wouldn’t be fast enough to stop Mai from throwing the knives, but you’d at least be fast enough to get in their path and stop them from hitting your friend.

“Sokka, move!” You urged, shoving him out of the way and effectively knocking over Ty Lee in the process as well. You weren’t given the time to process anything else as you immediately felt the blades make contact with your skin, digging themselves deep into your back. You cried out in agony before immediately collapsing to the ground, all while Sokka watched on in horror.

“Y/n!” He screamed before scrambling to your side. The fabric of your top was beginning to turn a deep red, and you could already begin to feel the effects of blood loss take over. Your vision was hazy and your body felt cold, and yet you were still able to make out the features of his face as he stared down at you with tears in his eyes.

“Just hang on, I’m going to get you out of here!” He insisted, some of his tears landing on your face. You couldn’t find the strength to muster up a response, so instead you simply let your eyes close and allowed the cold to consume you whole.

When you regain consciousness again you find yourself in a tent. Everything hurts and your body feels like it’s on fire, and yet you can’t find the strength to move. Blurry faces hover over you and muffled voices fill your ears, but no matter how hard you try you can’t make sense of any of your surroundings.

“-more water. I need more water!”

“Why isn’t it working?!”

A sharp pulse jolts up your spine and this time you do cry out in pain, effectively startling the figures in the tent.

“Y/n!” A voice cries. Sokka’s voice.

He’s beside you in an instant, kneeling before you and taking your hand tightly in his own. You’ve never seen him like this, so distraught and terrified. You wonder what happened when you passed out.

“Try to stay awake, okay? Please stay awake,” he begs you before looking frantically to his sister. “She doesn’t look any better!”

“Sokka, I’m doing everything I can here!” His sister shouts back, equally distressed as she exerts all of her energy into healing you. Progress is there but it’s slow, and she worries that if she isn’t fast enough the damage may be permanent. Why did the blades have to hit your spine so perfectly?

“Sokka…” you murmur quietly, your eyes beginning to feel heavy yet again.

“No, no, no, y/n, look at me! Don’t go back to sleep!”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears, and you’re swept back under.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you were last conscious, but the lamp beside you must mean that it’s grown dark outside. You feel warm, the sharp pain is gone, and all that is left behind is a sense of exhaustion from your adrenaline inducing day. You try to sit up only to immediately collapse due to the soreness of your back, but at least you’re able to move now.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” Sokka insists, alerting you of his presence beside you. You feel his palm carefully lift the back of your head towards the bowl of water he holds in his other hand, allowing you to take greedy gulps until you’re satisfied. “Katara says you shouldn’t try to get up yet or you’ll strain yourself. Your body is still adjusting.”

“What happened? How long have I been asleep?” You ask groggily.

“About twelve hours,” he replies sullenly, and it isn’t until this moment that you’re able to detect the exhaustion present on his features. “Those blades dug right through your skin and into your spine. Katara spent hours healing you; for a minute we thought you might not make it or that maybe you’d live but be paralyzed for the rest of your life. Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Why did you do it?” Sokka says more firmly this time. “How could you do something so stupid like that?! You could’ve died!”

“It’s not stupid to risk my life for someone I love,” you correct him with a faint smile. Your admission takes him by surprise, his face immediately growing hot and his mind actually at a loss for words for once.

“You… you love me?” He asks gently, almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“I thought it was obvious, dummy.”

“Not to me!” He cries defensively. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a small shrug. “I guess there’s never really been a good time; there’s always another fight to win or people to save. It just didn’t feel right.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs faintly. “But I’m glad you told me now, and I’m glad you’re alive. Because I can’t stand to lose another person that I love.”

You smile tiredly at his words, a new sense of understanding now being shared between you both. You love each other, and neither of you can stand to lose the other. This is real now, and you’re in it for the long haul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead then and urges you to get some more rest, and so you do. And Sokka stays planted right beside you to keep watch over you in your vulnerable state. In that moment he swears he’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.

And that’s a promise he intends to keep for a lifetime.

[merakiui]

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I must say: I’m genuinely impressed by how creative all your stories are. I have three questions related to your writing process, if you don’t mind.

1) How do you stay motivated to keep creating?

2) Where do you find inspiration?

3) have you ever had an idea for a scene that you struggled to execute? How did you work through that to write the scene?

I love your stories! I look forward to every chapter of Charlie McNamara.

1) Motivation to create has never been an issue for me -- there's always some new thing to write about! My issue, and the issue faced by a lot of other writers, is the motivation to stick with a project to completion. That's hard. Everyone's got a hundred "works in progress" they'll never touch again because they took a break and when they came back, their attention was on something new and shiny.

My solution to this? Money.

The reason I started Curse Words as a web serial and opened a patreon for it wasn't because I ever expected to be able to make a living as a writer. I'm as surprised as anyone that so many kind people have put their support behind me and let me keep writing these fucked up stories instead of getting a real job. I did it because I wasn't getting my projects finished. I was doing what we all do; getting three quarters of the way through any given project and then finding something more fun to work on instead. And when you risk disappointing readers by doing that, well, that'll get you back in the seat over the little bumps, maybe pull you back to a project a few times. But when people are paying you actual cash in return for consistent output, on time, to story completion? That's a way bigger motivator. Even if it's just one guy. For a long time, I had one patron! It was enough! It worked! It's not about making a lot of money, which is borderline impossible as a writer (again, I still can't believe my supporters are so generous enough that i can make this my career). But it acts as some level of both proof that your work is valued, and an active obligation on your part to keep producing it on a consistent schedule. My readers are giving me something valuable for this. I can't let them down.

Sorry, I'm sure you wanted a more uplifting kind of answer. But that's just what works for me.

2) I've never really been sure how to take this question. This is basically the age-old 'where do you get your ideas?' and it... doesn't have an answer. You think of a thing and you write about it. As you resolve the problems and inconsistencies in the thing, that fills out more and more of the world of the story.

Angel is born of a mediocre Goosebumps book called Chicken, Chicken. There's a part in the book where the protagonist, slowly shapeshifting into a chicken, rips all his feathers out every morning in an attempt to slow the transformation. The book isn't really about that but it stuck with me for a good two decades until, stuck in the house for two months at the beginning of Covid, I wrote Angel.

Void Princess and The princess in the Tower are both me musing on the old 'princess kidnapped by a dragon' trope. I get really fixated on this trope for some reason; I have four or five others swimming about in my head that aren't full stories ready for the page yet. Wasting Time is just the song Pushin' the Speed of Light, World Builder was written in a fever right after watching Jacob Geller's The Shape of Infinity, Copykate was initially going to be a SAYER fanfic but required enough alterations to the setting that it worked better as a story of its own. The inspiration is out there, the ideas are out there. It's just a matter of practice to turn them into stories.

3) I try to avoid scenes that are hard for me to depict, but this isn't always possible. I'm aphantasiac and struggle a lot with scenes that have a lot of heavy visual elements. Scenes where there's a lot going on that needs to be fairly precisely depicted are tricky, too.

One particularly difficult scene for me was a fight scene in Time to Orbit: Unknown. There's about six people in a small room fighting over the fate of a bunch of other people who are not present, and the reader needs to be kept up to date on the physical positions/activity/intentions of all the combatants, the villain explaining what he's doing and why (lying), the protagonist figuring out that he's lying, the physical condition (injuries, being restrained, et cetera) of all of the combatants, and the fate of the half of the crew not in the room, all with enough detail that the reader can understand the stakes, consequences, and enough of the moment-to-moment logic of the fight that nobody's decisions are confusing. The whole thing is very fast paced and... it's a lot. It's always a difficult balance in these scenes because you want to be detailed enough to keep the reader following everything they want to follow, but you don't want to dramatically slow down the story by describing every detail. If you're using a limited viewpoint, it's a blessing and a curse; you can avoid narrating the stuff your character can't see or isn't paying attention to, but you also have to find a way to get across information that your character might not be able to see, either by forcing them to see it or by having it conveyed in some other way in the scene. With busy scenes like this, I like to work backwards -- decide what specifically the reader needs to know, decide what is needed to get the characters to the places I want them at the end of the scene, and write a scene with as little as possible in it except for those two things. Sometimes, communicating those two things requires a bit of setup.

In Curse Words, there's an ancient magic spell passed down a family line from parent to child. It's a communication spell that allows people to see through each others' eyes and hear through their ears. Before the existence of long-distance wireless communications, this sort of information transfer was enormously powerful; wars can be turned with that power, trade networks created or conquered. It made its family enormously powerful, to the point where they're the most powerful magical family in the world even in the time of the story, with the spell long buried and its advantage lost to an age of mobile phones and cameras. It's massively influential to the worldbuilding of the story.

I introduced it for one reason and one reason alone -- I knew that eventually, I would be writing a climax to the story where a lot of people were doing a lot of things in a lot of different locations, and the protagonist was only going to be in one of those places. And I knew that I was going to need some way to tell the audience what the fuck was happening while he was running around in caves and shit.

[nomsfaultau]

thank you so much for writing mandatory family reunion. i just reread it for the eighth time. i think im going to dedicate my life to life to reading your other sbi fics until you update again. also; do you have any tips for committing to fics and not leaving them half-finished?

ahhhh that’s so sweet glad you enjoyed! As for writing fics, having it be your special interest really helps. But for more general advice on finishing:

-Don’t stick to just one story. Which seems counter intuitive! But inevitably you’re going to hit a snag in one story. So instead of stopping writing at all, switch projects. Writing involves a whole bunch of thinking, and stuff needs time to percolate in the back of your head. But having a small project to work on in the mean time keeps you engaged in the writing process, gives you practice, makes you feel like you’re making progress, and allows time to work out the other story. I personally have 1-2 main projects, Fault and MFR, and then rotate a couple back burner stories that I work on whenever I get inspiration and fully expect to have very slow progress and possibly never finish. Short stories, one shots, hell even just writing little one off scenes that don’t go anywhere. It’s a way to keep writing fun and thus you’re more likely to continue working on the stuff you’re trying to complete. Don’t feel bad if there’s breaks between working on your main project. Writing involves a lot of thinking and it takes time to do that.

-Devoting time to do that thinking also significantly helps. When you’re falling asleep can be a good time to rotate stories in your head. Could also be if you’re walking from place to place, or brushing your teeth, or other little gaps in the day. Even if you’re not physically writing, it’s still part of the process and can make it easier when you actually sit down to write because you know what scene you’re most excited to work on. Also, talking over your story idea with a friend is a great way to stay motivated if you can get over the mortifying ordeal of being known. You can bounce ideas off them, and other people’s investment in a project can be a great motivator to finish. Like legit a single ao3 comment once stopped me from my plan to abandon a fic. Reminding yourself why you (and other people) like the story makes it easier to want to continue.

-Keeping a rough outline of what you envision for the story can give you a road map to how close to done you are and where to go next. Just like you can hop between projects, I find jumping around the plot time line to write what scene I’m most interested in atm keeps me going instead of writing everything in order. Though, all writers have different degrees of plot planning, so that depends on your style.

-Art! I’m an artist, and while writing definitely fuels what I draw, I find doodling cool scenes I want to write really inspires me to keep going. This sorta falls under the same category of continuing to think about the story and motivating you to finish. -I found keeping a writing journal has improved how I view my writing. Basically, I’ll jot down a bullet point list of scenes worked on that week/month. Writing is a very slow process, so seeing a timeline of actual progression on a story makes it feel like I’m actually getting more out of my head and onto paper. I also jot down what ideas for scenes I came up with since that’s also part of writing, and might include a chill no stakes writing goal for that period, like work on X or Y project, or a particular scene. Sometimes my goal is just ‘write at least one sentence’. I give it lots of leeway, and accept that the muse may just be somewhere else that week. And if the goal isn’t met, no sweat! Life can get busy at times and it’s more important that you aren’t beating yourself up if it’s been awhile since you last touched a project. Forcing yourself to write a scene that isn’t ready won’t result in a good scene or an happy writer. Switch projects, give yourself time to think about it, take care of yourself, etc.

And, legitimately, don’t be afraid to abandon a piece. Maybe you’ll come back to it, maybe you won’t. It can feel disheartening to feel like you can’t seem to finish a project, but unfinished pieces also do a lot for you: they hone your craft, allow you a creative outlet, give you scenes that could potentially be reworked for later pieces, and most importantly were hopefully fun to write! Story crafting is a hobby that should bring you joy, not frustration and shame.

Like, I have stories that will never see the light of day and are just so I can have fun and poke it with a stick occasionally. I’m 100% confident in saying that every author will have tenfold the number of unfinished wips compared to complete works. That’s just part of the creative process: exploring different worlds to find the one you want to write.

Perhaps a fic might never get finished, but in the wise words of Technoblade: “if you enjoy it, it’s not time wasted, no?”

(Now, I think he was talking about murdering people, but the point still stands.)

[larcenywrites]

hcs for trying to distract boyfriend young!tony while does his homework? but! there's a catch! he only gets more kisses and whatnot if he finishes his work! but it takes him like twice as long now because how the hell is he supposed to focus on math when you're kissing and biting and licking and sucking on his neck and your hands are drifting all over his body aaand you're sat right on his lap!!!!!!!!!! and any minor progress he makes is reason enough for him to get a nice slow kiss that leaves him all dazed

Cute cute cute!! This turned into a little drabble! I wanted to write for this, but I’m still in my weird slump, so I hope it’s okay :(

Teasingly, you moved your hand to his thigh, hearing the pencil’s scribbling slow down and pause for only a few seconds before he regained his composure. Your hair tickled his neck when you rested on his shoulder, watching him work. You let him get through a few problems, trying not to laugh when he momentarily struggled to write after each flex of your grip. As much as you wanted him to finish his homework, a new idea came to mind.

With another answer boxed, you figured it was time for another kiss, the only reward he was (finally) working for. Pushing down on his thigh a little, you turned into his neck, giving the column of his throat an opened-mouth kiss. He gulped under your tongue, apparently making a mistake in the process as you heard the rubberish scratching of an eraser on paper. Smirking widely against his skin, you continued along his neck, scraping your teeth over the soft spot of his pulse before gently biting down and pulling away. He lifted his head as if inviting you back with the promise of more room, and was still diligently scribbling away. He tensed up when your hand slid into his inner thigh, and his sharp inhale was audible when your playing nips finally sucked his warm skin between your teeth. Your other hand played with the bottom of his shirt as you went, flattening your tongue against the red mark you made before quickly making another one.

Your focus was broken when his head rested against yours, pulling back when you realized the soft scratching of his pencil had stopped. You stopped his approach with a thumb on his lips, smiling cheekily at the upset in his eyes. “Didn’t you say you were going to finish your homework?”

He sighed heavily, not wasting any time on arguing and turned back to the textbook in front of him. You tightened your grip and drifted your touch with each string of math that he completed, withholding your kisses and merely drifting your lips over his cheek.

But he was still working a little too well.

As soon as he reached the halfway point of his list, you practically shoved your face in his, giving him no time to pull away from your sudden kiss. You pressed your lips to his, hardly being met with hesitation. He kissed back eagerly, licking over your bottom lip to only be denied entry. You turned your head to deepen the kiss, parting your lips and darting your tongue after his. That arm that had been in your way this whole time moved to your waist, circling around your back as if to pull you closer, but once again you pulled away. “You know, the quicker you finish-“

“If you’ll let me finish,” he impatiently grumbled at your continued teasing, a good enough reaction to what you were looking for. Up to no good, you bit your lip and slid onto his lap, straddling him. “I will if you hurry up,” you purred against his cheek, digging your hips into his and palming over his chest. You were sure his disgruntled sigh was just an impatient moan when you settled in his neck again.

The hand on your back left, attempting to pick up where he left off. You snaked your hands under his shirt, feeling his abs twitch at your touch, and feeling him jolt when you scratched your nails into his skin. You smiled into your next kiss when his body shook against yours with the effort of erasing yet another mistake you caused him to make. He huffed, swiping the rubber debris from his book while you nipped at his jaw.

“You know, it’s a little hard to work like this,” he griped, fidgeting around like he could throw you off. It only made you fidget with him, rolling your hips against his and dragging your hands further up to his chest. A whiny rumble left his throat.

“Do you want me to stop?” You pouted into his neck before pulling back, sitting up straight. He didn’t even side-eye you, hyper-focused on the textbook over your shoulder. Waiting for any reply or even the scratch of a pencil, your palms continued to drift over his chest, making him shiver and attempt to twitch away when you brushed over his nipples. There still wasn’t any more progress being made on the sheets behind you. With a loud sigh, Tony rested into your shoulder, melting against you in defeat.

“No,” he matched your earlier pout before managing to quickly scribble down another answer, even when your nails dug back into his skin. He finally pulled away from you when the penciling stopped, patiently waiting for your next move now that he’d finally made a little more progress again. He glanced at you when your hands left his skin, giving you puppy eyes when they instead cupped his cheek and caressed his neck. He smiled into your pressing kiss, both hands coming to rest on your waist. You quickly snatched the pencil from his fingers, pulling away from him far too soon for his liking and smooshing the pencil against his lips when he tried to chase after you. Those same pouty puppy eyes opened to glare at you.

“I still need you to finish your work first.”

[oldhalloweentape]

if it isn't too much trouble or rush, perhaps a request about the first kiss with vinny santorini?

💐💣Vinny (atlantis) x reader First Kiss Headcanons💥🌹

(Yeah so um… Sorry guys for making you wait for so long on something fresher— I’m just going through it when it comes to my writing, incredibly unconfident in my skills… But I saw how many of you guys liked ‘em. For that I am extremely thankful, I love being able to provide where not many people would get it. Anyways, sorry for the long rant, here it is 💖)

(Edit : all of my headcanons are gender nonspecific when it comes to the reader, and it usually will be if no one specified)

Alright, your first kiss with each other, this sign of love transpires shortly after he overcomes the whole frigid stage of your relationship at the very beginning.

When things started becoming more... Vulnerable and soft started making themselves known, you weren't the only one to notice, your comrades, your amigos did as well. (These are certain people you may or may not know- Who are very supportive of your relationship from the get-go. Wink wink, nudge nudge.)

Um, this expedition crew sees the more than platonic relationship between you two, and all of them have varying opinions on the matter.

For example, Audrey, being the teen she is thinks it's pandering but adorable, Mole? … Not so much.

That stinky little fuck thinks it's nasty, even though he's the one who bathes himself in dirt and grime.

ANYWAYS, going back to Audrey, as I mentioned in an earlier post, (this one right here) Audrey is impatient, and not into the slow-burn trope as she tries to… Quicken the process.

And as the story progresses… Somehow Audrey lassos KIDA of all people into these evil master plans.

These teen-concocted shenanigans are good-natured of course, but they come off as… Odd to say the very least. You see… A kid who is more into mechanics isn't exactly the doctor of love, and an 8,500-8,800-year-old Atlantean woman isn't either.

Their attempts may include the following (let's start up the clown music, shall we?):

- Trying to learn more about the relationship as much as they possibly can (Audrey TRIES to ask somewhat subtle… Kida straight-up demands to know 💀)

- Posing as one partner via love letters… With those letters being very terribly written ones.

- Well, they were kinda bound to be wonky if they were written by an Atlantean warrior woman as a teenager spectates intently… And let’s be honest they could've been believable with how romantically INEPT YOU BOTH ARE, but they didn't take the time to copy your guys’s writing style/handwriting (And Sweets is the one who usually snatches these letters before you guys read them to spare you both, say thank you to Doctor Joshua Strongbear Sweets 💖).

- Putting you guys into DANGEROUS SITUATIONS. This is mainly Kida’s idea, with her being frightfully confident about it due to it working with Milo and her… Thankfully Audrey had enough common sense to dismantle the idea.

After attempt after attempt fails, Audrey finally tries to get Sweets, a man she believes would have far more experience in this kind of thing… But the doctor tells her to NOT interfere, as painful as it is to look at you two being fucking romance failures.

With Milo backing it up of course… This effectively ruined the amusement (I can see Mole just giggling and snorting at all of this, this is COMEDY GOLD TO HIM) that Mole had as Kida and Audrey ran around like two headless chickens, all the while Vinny and you were for the most part unaware of.

But of course, the doctor knew that they all just had to be patient and let things move naturally between you two, a quality that Audrey and Kida were lacking in their plots.

This moment comes to fruition as you both get time alone and find a rather nice spot in Atlantis, which… May or may not have been suggested by Sweets to one of you.

After some heartfelt words and lingering touches, you both were able to share your first kiss, which as many might expect was both sweet and awkward, as God intended 💖☺️

[birth-stories]

I hope this isn’t asking too much. Thank you for your time and effort that you put into your writings! You’re very talented!

🫄- “Kay” (they/them)

🧍-Their Partner is named “Ory” (they/he)

🏠 and ⌛️: Kay is heavily pregnant (emphasis on describing the belly size) and all of the sudden as they are just relaxing at home. Kay goes into a lengthy labor (emphasis on how they react to the pain.)

2️⃣: Expects one but us surprised with two babies

🛑: Kay was nervous but also excited during their entire pregnancy. But as labor progresses, is in serious birth denial and is scared. But Ory (while slightly panicking) is supportive and assures them that everything will be okay during the process as they assist Kay.

Sorry that this took so long! I’m not that good at writing birth denial so I accidentally made this super fluffy 😅

Word count: 1K

—

Kay had gone past a few days of their original due date, but this hadn’t bothered them at first. Deciding to try to jump start labor, they and Ory had tried a few different at home remedies. A long walk (which was quite the struggle with how big Kay was- Ory had joked they were having more then one), eating spicy food (which had just made Kay be sick for awhile), and finally sex.

Afterwards, Kay hadn’t felt any real changes until later in the evening while relaxing on the couch with Ory. The first contraction was sudden and quite tense, having knocked the wind out of Kay.

Ory was clearly concerned, knowing that his partner was nervous about birthing such a large baby. So he had tried to comfort Kay the best he could.

Kay’s labor had lasted for quite some time, time itself seemed to slow down to almost nothing. As the pains got worse, the more panicked Kay became.

Leaky chest heaving with each attempt at a breath between the contractions that tightened their large stomach, which they could’ve even see past to see if they were progressing any with labor.

“Ory-“ they suddenly moaned out, shifting around uncomfortably on the bed, half curling into their large stomach as another contraction washed over them.

Ory was brought to attention by their partners sudden cry, moving from where he had sat on the edge of the bed closer to Kay. Giving a reassuring rub to their thigh.

“I can’t push!” Kay cried out, giving a quick shake of their head. It was obvious they were ready to begin pushing, but the nerves had finally got the better of them.

This sent panic through Ory for a moment, unsure how to help his partner- he knew they had to push at some point.

“Okay okay-“ Ory spoke, moving to get up and position himself behind Kay, helping the other sit back against his chest, his arms lifting their legs up and helping them bend slightly.

He had also placed a mirror in front of Kay, hoping they could both watch the process. His hands laying on the top of Kay’s tight midsection, he had trailed soft kisses against the others sweaty neck.

“Come on, nice big pushes and then we can meet our baby!” Ory spoke, he wasn’t very good at hiding his own excitement. He had been just excited as Kay for this moment.

Though they still had an unsettling feeling of anxiety, Kay had begun to push.

With each push, muscles would tense, grunts and whines leaving their lips. Sweat sheen on their shaking body.

Not much progress was made for about 2 hours, and Ory had encouraged Kay to move to resting on all fours to get gravity to help.

As Kay took a brief moment to catch their breath, a small whine escaped their lips. Their tight pussy lips were bulging out, just the very tip of the head peaking out before it had slid back in.

“I saw it!” Ory couldn’t help but almost yell it out, though the head had slipped back up.

Panting, Kay felt a rush of emotions- only urging them to push once more, a bit harder then last time.

Body tense, and with a grunt- the head had surged forward, not quite into a crown- but definitely more progress then before.

“Good job baby!” Ory cheered, having placed a towel beneath Kay to catch any excess birthing fluid.

A tired moan had escaped Kay’s lips as they tried to rest for just a few seconds in between contractions.

As another contraction began, they had their chin tucked down into their sweaty chest and pushed. A slight yell escaping their lips as the head shot forward into now a full crown.

Lips stretched thin, almost white from the pressure- Kay couldn’t help but pant and moan as Ory applied gentle pressure so they wouldn’t tear.

“Nghh— its coming out!” Kay suddenly yelled, the head popping free with the next contraction. Leaving them awkwardly straddling the pillow that they had been using for support, holding it up against their chest.

“Good job!” Ory gasped, quickly reaching to hold the head. His hands were shaking from excitement and nerves.

Trying to catch their breath, Kay began to breath and pant heavily. “Oooh!” They whined out, feeling the baby suddenly turn.

With one final push, the baby had slipped free into Orys hands.

Yelping, Ory had cleaned off the baby’s face, earning a loud wail.

“Oh shit!” Kay gasped, having collapsed against the mound of pillows, shaking like a leaf as Ory placed the squalling newborn girl up to Kay’s chest.

“We have a daughter!” Ory cheered excitedly, not quite noticing the pained expression present on Kay’s face.

Kay was awkwardly holding the baby, breathing heavily as they closed their eyes. The contractions were still strong, figuring it was just the after birth trying to expel Kay had given a small push.

Ory frowned, noticing the look on Kay’s face, he didn’t think the afterbirth would come this fast- but when he looked down, he had realized it was another head.

A surge of panic raced through him as he scrambled for another towel, quickly positioning himself in front of Kay.

“Okay okay- Kay.. it looks like there’s another baby-“ Ory tried to keep his voice steady, knowing Kay would likely panic.

“What?!” Kay moaned, the first born was on their chest, eagerly suckling down milk as Kay felt their tender lips open up against the large head that was barreling through their birth canal.

“It’s okay-“ Ory soothed, affectionately rubbing the others thigh, “just nice big pushes-“ he encouraged.

Not having much of a choice, Kay had began pushing once again. Face red and sweaty as they clenched their jaw.

“Ooh!” They suddenly yelled out, eyes wide as the head had crowned with that particular push.

“Good job!” Ory spoke, trying to encourage them so they wouldn’t shut down and stop pushing.

Barely hearing Ory’s words, a grunt had escaped their lips- giving another hard push as the baby’s hsad surged forward and popped out with a stream of birthing fluids.

Ory was quick to cradle the head, hands shaking once more.

This baby was also quick to turn as Kay gave one final push- the body slipping into Ory’s hands.

Repeating the process, Ory had gotten the baby to cry before setting them on top of Kay’s chest.

“It’s a boy!” Ory announced proudly as the baby searched for milk and immediately latched onto the swollen nipple.

Kay was clearly in shock, watching both Beth healthy babies take in their first meal. Ory had moved beside them to admire his new family as well

[farfromstrange]

You guys, I am so sorry for disappearing! A lot has happened in the past couple of weeks, and I didn’t have the time or the motivation to come on here.

Anyway, so, I moved into my own apartment on Sunday, and it’s been an emotional rollercoaster, to say the least. I’ve been cleaning and unpacking and trying to figure out how life as an adult works non-stop ever since I’ve moved. And since I’ve also moved three hours from my little hometown into a bigger city, adjusting to this new life is a bit harder than expected, but I’m managing.

I don’t have wifi yet, so I’m working with mobile data, which also means I won’t be able to write until I somehow find a café with free internet or until my internet provider finally actually provides me with wifi. They are so slow with delivering the device and actually processing my order, which is pissing me off, but thank God for mobile data or else I’d be living like a caveman right about now.

I thought I’d pop in again and give you guys a quick update, and give you an explanation why I’ve been MIA.

For those of you who are interested, here a small glimpse at my new world:

I’m still working on the wall above my desk. It’s nowhere near finished.

I’m gonna keep you guys updated on my progress as much as I can. Fingers crossed.

I love you guys, and I’ll be back as soon as I have wifi again! Until then, take care of yourselves and please do stick around <3 I’m missing you guys, and I miss writing, so I can’t wait to get back to that ASAP!

[thompsborn]

any news on hb ch17?! if you’ve got shit going on or just anyway like there’s absolutely no pressure I was just wondering if you had any idea when it’s likely to be out? I miss it lmao

hi yes sorry!!

i was very confident that i’d get it done and posted by the end of april, but i’ve also been applying to new jobs and started getting some interviews finally which has taken up a decent amount of time, BUT!

i’m not promising anything, but i have like half of next week off and i have a follow-up interview in about an hour for a job that would have much better hours if i were to get it, because tbh the reason i have been so slow in writing and posting fics at all is because my current job has hours that just do not agree with me mentally or physically (split shift where i wake up at 4:30 am and dont get home until like 7pm every week day lmao send help) so once i have a new job i’ll actually have the time AND the energy to write more!!

so, i haven’t finished chapter 17 and because of me being in the process of interviewing for (and hopefully getting) this new job or some other new job and then the transition period that would happen from my current job into a new one, i can’t say for sure when i’ll get it done, but i’m about like halfway done with it and with me having half of next week off from work and also having no plans for this weekend it is definitely POSSIBLE for me to get a lot of progress on it

no promises, and even if i do make a lot of progress that doesn’t necessarily mean that i’ll finish it, and if i do finish it that doesn’t mean it’ll be able to get beta read right away (i’ll have to message evie and such) so i’m not gonna promise anything, but it’s definitely in progress and i’m definitely trying to get it done!!

and hopefully i get a new job asap so that i’m able to write more in general, because before my job got so exhausting i was able to post like at least one chapter/fic every month or two, and it would be SUPER cool to be able to get back to doing that!!

maybe i’ll post some snippets from chapter 17 while working on it this weekend though, just to get SOMETHING out there while finishing it lmao

thank u for ur patience and kindness 🥺❤️

[decolonize-the-everything]

So I read through the post about what whiteness is and I had some thoughts. I’m white, and raised in a very very white traditionally conservative community. I was very sheltered, and when I was a young teenager and just starting to gain access to different ideas, and the ability to creat my own opinions on the world, I had a really hard time separating ‘white idealism’ I guess you could say, from the process of deconstructing my worldview. I felt like I had to prove somehow that I was better now, or that I had changed, even though I was trying to distance myself from that exact mindset.

It was also a shock because I found out quickly that as soon as you don’t fit into the neat boxes that of whiteness (i’m queer for example) they don’t want you anymore. whiteness can’t be allowed to be tarnished by anything that could be perceived as lower than it. and so even when I was starting to change my ideas, I still clung to the mindset that I had to be showing other people that I was good for them to accept me if that makes sense, and I think that shows itself in a lot of white leftist spaces as well from what I’ve seen. The need to prove to others that you’re good or better. Which just circles back to the same ideas they’re trying to distance themselves from. in order to really get out of the cycle that needs to be let go.

idk, hope that made sense.

It absolutely does and I absolutely agree. I think this is partially why progressive policies and movements have been so slow to be won. Most policies and movements are either spearheaded by or overtaken by white voices who's priority isn't in actually dismantling or addressing issues and that's reflected in the hollow policies they pass that never do much more than band aid any given situation.

Best and most recent example is the call for police to be abolished going to > police should be defunded > police reform is the best and more realistic goal because that's the compromise most will accept so it's Right > actually I think you should fund police again

(And of course passing Roe v Wade but not codifying for 50 years)

Also, and I'm just tacking this on: I blame this attitude for the current panopticon/cancel era we're living in as well, where people feel obligated to share personal truths to justify the things they say online. The need to Perform being a good person with apology videos, profile photo filters, and BLM in your bio instead of just actionably being a good person. Where people follow each other just waiting for the other to say/share something problematic just so they can have the satisfaction of calling out a Bad Person™

It's giving work write ups. It's giving Karen in HR calling a meeting because you broke policy.

Whiteness is a culture and we all live in a world colonized by it and so we must be aware of these things. And if we really wanna stop shit like that, we have to admit where it comes from.

Kill the Karen standing next to the cop in your head (so to speak).

[detailtilted]

Thank you!! (To the rebloggers of the CHICON 2007 J2 Breakfast Video)

I’m not sure of the proper Tumblr-ish way to thank all of you who recently reblogged my post, so please let me know if I’m violating some sort of etiquette or doing things in a weird/awkward way.  I tried to put this in a comment on my original post, but I was too wordy!

I wanted to give a big “thank you”, though!  I was kind of thinking this project was just going to fade into obscurity, so I was really happy and surprised to find several notifications when I woke up this morning.  It was so encouraging to see the interest, and I’ve appreciated your comments both in the tags and in the reblog texts, as well as just the fact that you thought it worth reblogging.

The day I posted the Breakfast video, I started on the main Jensen/Jared/J2 panels from the same CHICON 2007 convention.  I figured if nothing else, even if no one else was interested, I’d want to have a complete set.  That will likely be the next thing you see from me, but I’m very slow, especially now that vacation is over, so my output speed won’t be impressive.  I do hope to get faster with practice.

The Breakfast video was my first time ever doing any video editing, not counting one very short and very pathetic attempt a few months ago with free software.  When I did this one, I purchased some proper software and I’ve been learning both the new software and video editing concepts as I go. I'm more of a words person than anything else, so this is way outside my wheelhouse, but it's something I'd been thinking about a lot lately and I thought I'd give it a try. If nothing else, it's fun to learn a new skill. I've found it to be surprisingly absorbing. The skip-meals-because-I-don't-want-to-stop-what-I'm-doing kind of absorbing.

If I do more, my intent was to progress through the cons by date starting from the oldest.  However, I’ve found that some footage is just such poor quality that the upscale process I’m using doesn’t work on it no matter what combination of settings I try.  I could still edit the original videos together as-is and then add subtitles and additional content like what I added here, but I guess people would be less interested if the video quality is too bad.  So I figured I'd skip over the ones I couldn't get a good set of upscaled videos for and focus on the ones where I felt like I could get a tolerable video quality.  Maybe someday either the technology or my skills will improve and I can go back to the ones I skip, or maybe someone else in our fandom with more skill in this area will be able to accomplish more.

(@kerkhofbloemen, unfortunately, it looks like most of the L.A. 2008 footage falls in that category, but I only experimented with a couple of the main videos briefly a few days ago.  I’ll put some more effort into it after I finish CHICON 2007 before I completely write it off as being beyond my current abilities.) 

Editing in the extra content has been the most fun part of the process for me.  So many of their cultural references go completely over my head, because I guess I live under a rock!  I had a moment of pure glee when I Googled “Montgomery” to try to figure out what Jensen was talking about when he picked his mic stand up. I immediately saw that Montgomery Gentry photo and burst out laughing because it all finally made sense!

Thank you very much @blue-chimera @sensitivehandsomeactionman @afacefromamoviescene @soulmates-for-real, @winchestersbaby067 @arwenadreamer @takikojou @kerkhofbloemen @stoneyggirl2 @unepetitefrancaise @jensenbeingjensen !

(I hope I didn’t miss anyone!  If I did, it definitely wasn’t intentional.  The reblog count on my post shows 12, but I only saw 11 names.)

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

*revives again*

I'll be soon going to sleep, but anyways

Thank you btw! <3 I'll still be a bit hesitant as of now to write fics but i'll definitely will keep making ideas, boredom does that to ya'

Now i'm like, wanting to write a fic about cryptid Hal especially after reading a one shot with this topic, but i think i'll just write down ideas so i can talk about them with someone who is willing to listen! :3

I'm now like: Hal slowy turning into a cryptid without realizing it.. bird Hal...(I have the perfect bird for him, even though i would probably make my own little species for him), lots of hurt before comfort, it gets worse before it gets better, lots of whump.. nomnom😈

Body horror too since the wings would have to, literally and im not even joking, rip apart his back since he didn't originally have them.. painful back pains before the wings actually come out, gotta love some good old fashioned "it gets worse before it gets better"

Also him hiding out of either fear or denial, or fear of being judged by the League because God that man needs therapy!!

The deep seated fear of becoming inhuman bc of the rings is so scrumptious, MMMM

I’m reminded of that one nightmare JL:U episode where that GL was stuck in a nightmare where humanity became alien to him and he progressively got taken over by the ring until he couldn’t understand English and was scaring people away.

Specifically with Hal and this bird transformation imagine the slow creep into it tho.

His appetite gets weirdly fast and suddenly he’s catching up with Barry or Wally on their snack breaks to carb up, eating way too much until he feels like he’s going to be sick but then it passes and he’s hungry all the same, not knowing he’s fueling the fire of his body burning up calories to shift. His skin gets weird and prickly in places that’s mostly covered by his suit or loose clothing as a civilian, his fingers seem longer and thinner, his hands and palms too as they stretch out to an appropriate wing span but it just looks slightly unproprtional for the time being so he’s not worrying too much other than his skin. His lips thin and there’s a sharp pain at the front of his gums, like something is trying to force itself out and his teeth are feeling ill-fit in his own mouth.

He gets knee pains and during a fight with a heavy hitter, maybe Lobo, multiple bones are broken and they stick him in some sort of med pod to expedite the healing process but that does him in. His broken legs bend backwards and the change forces a talon from his heel as his feet cover in scales over flesh, his arms grow and fingers combine into those misshapen wings that take up so much space in the med pod he’s curled in on himself in comatose agony. His teeth rot and are replaced with the beak that had been forcing itself out until his lips stretch around the outline of it and are covered by the feathers just starting to take proper form.

When someone checks in the next day what’s inside isn’t Hal anymore, he can’t do little more than scream in harpy cries at the agony he wakes up to. He can’t walk, can hardly lift himself up with his hands gone and replaced with winged arms that hardly have the feathers needed to fly after his bones stretched and broke into this new misshapen body of his. His head pounds because his eyes have shifted from front facing to more on the sides of his head like a prey species, not entirely but enough that he can’t physically see the world the same anymore. When the pain subsides and he finds his voice it’s more shrill and improper because his mouth isn’t the same anymore and he has to learn how to speak again with this new speech impediment.

Arugh! Love this

He’d have to be physically bigger too, bc yes, and have to come to terms with the fact he’s got hollow bones now. After all the angst is done his biggest sad factor is that he can’t enjoy food the same anymore bc he can’t really eat much of it depending on what beak he grew in

[verflares]

hey!!!! i LOVE your totk fic and adore the way you write and was genuinely curious as to what your writing process is like?? i’m still trying to get to grips with writing but im stuck in the endless loop of editing while i write so i end up never finishing anything 😭😭

hello!! first of all, thank you so much! i get so ^_^ whenever someone tells me they enjoy my work, words can't express how much i appreciate it now, as to answer your question, i would say.... chaotic LMAO. it's a little difficult to put it into words, especially to describe it because like... how You do things feels natural, right? but umm... i usually have an idea of what i Want to happen in the chapter planned out before i start writing, so i'll divide it into chunks. i'll usually put a little synopsis of the scene in each to help both guide my direction and remind me of what i'm doing as i write. as someone who actually also prefers to edit as i write, i feel it's been a good method in making sure i don't get overwhelmed! especially if i'm having a slow or bad writing day. as for getting out of editing loops, my usual go-to is to just... leave it and move on. i'll do this either by putting a little comment next to it (something like, a very loose reminder or even an idea of how i want the paragraph or interaction to play out), or jumping ahead to a different part of the chapter entirely and chipping away at that instead. here's a little example (from a snippet of the next chapter i'm still working on lol):

by the time i come back to what was giving me trouble, i usually realise it's fine the way i left it, or writing ahead has given me some new ideas of how to pad it out properly! i feel what's most important and encouraging for me, personally, is Progress - and that can be non-linear, too! as long as i've chipped away at the chapter in some form or other, i feel happy.

this is what i mean by chaotic, because it's a bit... all over the place LOL. i also don't do first drafts for example 💀 (but this is also because editing as you go makes it mostly non-essential imo) but i dunno! everyone's creative process is different, and if you find yourself struggling with something, it may just be good to either step back or just chip away at something else for awhile! you may be surprised at what your brain will come up with in the meantime

finally, if i could offer one more piece of writing advice, it's Reading. read, read, read! whether it be fanfiction or published works, nothing - and i mean nothing - will help you more than reading. exposure to other people's styles, their prose, will genuinely help you so much in your approach to your own work, and even ideas for what you're struggling with! and i obviously don't mean plagiarism or anything like that either of course. i just mean that considering what you Enjoyed about that creator's work will help you develop your own, and in the process, creating your unique style and process. it's the same for art and music - the creative process, especially if you're still getting used to a hobby, is filled with evolution and finding out what you enjoy about it. try things out! see what works for you! have fun with it, and remember that you are creating for Yourself most of all. (reggie fils amie voice) because if its not fun, why bother

[liberacesghost]

Day 6 -- Person A Knows Person B's Coffee Order

let's try that again! just wanna shout out @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb again, because i'm having a good time writing, but also having a good time reading. so if you're all not on that shit, get into it!!

warnings: cussing cause i literally cannot; mentions of them on a case but nothing graphic

pairing: hotch x reader sorta (use of y/n) they're not actually together and they don't actually get together, but you'll see

word count: 769

a/n: i know how super late i am pls forgive me <33

Coffee was the lifeblood of the BAU. The driving force that kept them going the long hours they had to work. The sweet nectar that fueled their bodies and minds.

And this coffee at the tiny mid-western precinct they were currently at fucking sucked. And that was putting it mildly. 

“I can’t do this. It’s been days and I need decent coffee in my system”, you say standing up. “I need a break anyway.”

The case was going…slow. Well, more accurately the team’s progress was going slow. The unsub was decidedly not slow. He was leaving a trail of bodies quicker than you could process the evidence. And yet, you were no closer to actually catching him. 

Frustrated by not only the lack of breaks in the case, but the added insult of shitty coffee was almost unbearable. 

“I’ll make a quick run - let me know what you all want”, you say to the room at large as you put on your coat, which includes Rossi, Derek, Spencer, and Emily. 

After getting their drinks all written down, you head to ask Hotch and JJ. You find them in an office that’s being repurposed for the BAU’s benefit. 

“Hey guys”, you say hanging onto the doorframe. “I’m going on a coffee run. Do you want anything?”

“Oh, tea would be amazing, thanks”, JJ says with a smile. 

Hotch nods and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, you cut him off pointing a finger at him, “A large black coffee, no cream, 1 sugar. I know.” Then you’re out of the door before Hotch can do much more than nod again, quite uselessly. 

He’s staring into the space you just were, mouth slightly open. He didn’t think anybody paid attention to his usual order. He didn’t think you paid attention. He’d be an absolute liar if he said his heart didn’t clench almost painfully in his chest. The thought of someone listening and picking up on what he likes – well, not just somebody, but you. It’s enough to keep him from doing anything useful for a lot longer than he’d like to admit. Hoping beyond hope that his cheeks were not pinkening. 

It’s not until JJ pointedly coughs that Aaron is snapped out of it, head jerking towards the blonde. She gives him a knowing smirk, before going back to the notepad in front of her. Purposefully (and very professionally) not mentioning the coloring occurring on his face and his ears. 

Some time later, JJ has moved back to the conference room leaving Hotch alone in “his” office to scribble away at the endless reports. 

Lost in the writing and rewriting he’s felt he’s been constantly doing since he got here, he doesn’t hear footsteps approaching. It’s not until he hears the soft thud of the cardboard coffee cup on his desk, that he stops. He looks up to see you looking at him with a soft, almost shy smile. 

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Your timid smile. The way your eyes meet his before quickly flitting away. Teeth worrying your bottom lip. 

How he never saw it before is absolutely beyond him.

“Here you go, boss”, you say softly. 

You both just stare at each other, restrained smiles on your faces. 

The seconds turn into minutes, before you shake your head as if you’re clearing your thoughts away like an etch-a-sketch. “I also got some snacks if you’d like”, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “They’re in the conference room.”

Aaron is too stunned to say or do anything. This sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, you could feel the same way as him is overwhelming. 

When he doesn’t respond, you give him a jerky nod of your head before turning around and making your way out the room. 

Hotch says your name so softly, you turn around quickly, almost in alarm. 

Remembering that they’re on an active case and he’s still the goddamn unit chief, he catches himself before he says something incredibly telling. 

“Thank you”, he says instead. 

You look at him, brows furrowing for a brief second, eyes roaming his face and posture for something. Something he left unsaid, something he was going to say, something you wanted him to say – you weren’t sure. So you simply look him in the eyes, a small almost smirk on your face, and give him a nod before making your way back to the conference room. Leaving Hotch in his makeshift office alone with the coffee you got him, the swirling thoughts inside his head, and the ache in his chest.

[owl-with-a-pen]

I’m gonna start by saying forgive me if I’ve already sent this ask. I feel like I might have but I have a bit of a memory problem so I’m really not sure. If I have ignore this.

That said, if you’re still taking requests I would absolutely love it if you did a scene that would fit into the episode featuring the courage totem where Brainy says he can’t wake Nia but we don’t get to see the process of him trying and realizing this. I saw in the tags of an old post you were considering writing about it so if you’re still interested that would be really cool.

This may be the latest prompt yet, but I just reached this episode on my re-watch and remembered this ask specifically. So again, anon, if you're still out there, I hope you enjoy!

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The moment Brainy touched down at the Tower, he headed straight for the training room floor. The elevator moved unbearably slow, uncaring of his plight even while he tapped ineffectually at the button controlling his descent.

All the while, his mind continued to work over the last hour’s events.

Alex and J’onn had been affected by something during that altercation – clearly – and yet Brainy was struggling to pinpoint a cause. Indeed, he seemed to be having a hard time thinking of anything. He was still unnerved by the punches he hadn’t been able to evade during the fight. Punches thrown by human adversaries, civilian adversaries, and for some reason he hadn’t seen them coming. Differential calculus had failed him in the moment, leaving him with a dangerous blind spot that had nearly cost him the safety of the citizens he had been meant to protect.

Perhaps he had been unable to predict their moves because they themselves had been dictated by an otherworldly force. Or perhaps this was Vita’s doing, somehow. The Kryptonian witch had been meddling inside his projectors not hours ago, although any trace of her had been expunged completely the moment she’d fled back to her crystal.

Which meant that there was nothing wrong with him internally; no matter how many diagnostics he ran didn’t change the facts.

No. He was missing something, he had to be. And he still couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get worse.

And, if that was the case, then Nia needed to be informed. She’d stayed local to the Tower to try and use her dreams to search for Nyxly, and while Brainy hoped she’s made more progress than the rest of them, he couldn’t deny that his main priority was an entirely selfish one.

Simply, he wished to see her again.

Things always felt clearer when he had the chance to talk them out with Nia Nal, and he desperately sought that clarity now. But Nia’s job was by far the most important if they were to gain any insight for the fight to come, and he could not allow his own feelings get in the way of that.

When the elevator doors finally shuddered open and Brainy stepped foot into the training arena made makeshift den, the sense of wrongness twisting his stomach didn’t lift as anticipated. In fact, it only seemed to intensify.

Nia was sat on the other side of the room, mostly upright on one of J’onn’s scavenged antique armchairs.

Brainy’s lips twitched fondly at the sight.

Over the last few weeks, Nia had been spending more time in the dream realm than she ever had before, so much that she’d become impressively adept at appearing otherwise conscious during her meditations.

Only her soft snores betrayed her now.

Brainy folded his arms, ducking his head with another suppressed smile. As much as it pained him to disturb her dreams, their current circumstances had made it something of a necessity.

“Nia,” he said softly, not yet at her side. Oftentimes, that was all it took to reach through to her. The sound of his voice always found her eventually. No matter how far into the dream realm she may have travelled, that had always been a certainty.

Today, however, something was different.

When Nia didn’t stir after the predicted one minute and fifteen second window Brainy normally left for her, a nervousness began to creep its way into his throat. He swallowed it down quickly, crossing the room towards her.

Even his proximity didn’t appear to dispel her dreams. When he was close enough, Brainy crouched down in front of her, tentatively taking his girlfriend’s arm, attempting to reach her. “Nia Nal?”

Nothing. Nia remained perfectly still, her lips half parted.

Brainy frowned, eyes skirting across her expression, intent on finding anything that might account for this abnormality in her sleep cycle. Nia’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though she was concentrating on something very far away. Her fingers were tense, curled inward, impressing strained lines into the leather armrests.

Most worrisome. The dream realm wasn’t meant to cause such an adverse physical reaction. Nia would often wake from a dream disoriented, the physical embodiment of her astral self coinciding with that of the waking world, but that occurred after the dream had dispelled, not before.

Brainy forced his breathing to still, taking his girlfriend’s shoulders, squeezing her with gentle reassurance. He let his eyes flutter shut, focusing instead on his internal enhancements. He had long ago put buffers in place to match up against Nia’s own energy frequencies, though as her abilities had grown, he’d found himself implementing more to prepare for any variations in which her powers might manifest.

He thought he’d known what to expect, but when his attempt at connecting with her was met with a powerful snap of dream energy that lanced down both his wrists, Brainy jerked his hands away with a hiss, shaking them out.

“Sprock,” he muttered, winding a protective hand around his ring finger where her energy continued to smart. He stared at Nia’s unresponsive posture, wide-eyed, a panic flaring inside of him so fiercely that it took every ounce of his self-control not to grab for her and shake her with all his might. Anything that might wake her.

But it would do not good. Nia was protecting herself from the outside world, her energy posing a physical threat against anything that sought to disturb her focus. A soft blue highlighted her cheeks, her gloves glowing a brilliant but dangerous shade. She'd travelled deeper into the dream realm than he'd ever witnessed, somewhere that even Brainy couldn’t reach through to her.

What had brought on such prowess, Brainy wasn’t sure. Had she found new certainty in her mother’s teachings, or perhaps she was responding to a vengeful trigger set in motion by Nyxly?

Either way, Brainy should have known, should have predicted this. By being attentive to her feelings, by being present at all. He was failing her, and he was failing himself by being unable to focus on probable cause, to outline anything at all with absolute certainty. Not with Alex, not with J’onn, not with this…

It seemed he needed… help.

Brainy nearly recoiled at the notion. He hated that feeling, the vulnerability that came with such uncertainty, but he couldn’t deny it any longer. Something was wrong, and if he was going to figure it out, he needed to alert the rest of the Super Friends to Nia’s current predicament.

He balled his hands together nervously before dipping forward, cupping the side of Nia’s face so that her energy bleached his palm. He sighed, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, taking comfort in the warmth of her skin, the sweet scent of her shampoo.

“I will return,” Brainy promised her, his voice barely a crackle in her ear.

Nia remained unresponsive throughout, though from the tightness of her expression, Brainy knew her battle raged on elsewhere. He only hoped that wherever she was, she might have heard him. Enough to know that he was not leaving her. That he would be back. He would always be back.

He didn’t allow himself to linger a moment longer, otherwise he would never have had the strength to pull himself away. Instead, he headed back towards the elevator, twisting his ring close to his chest, still hot with errant dream energy, and made his ascent known.