#also this was supposed to be a very short drabble and then the first paragraph was almost a hundred words so its a slightly longer thing

[broth-y]

Peeling Apples - injury cw

“Ow, fuck!”

The exclamation and the clashing of items that followed, perked Gundham’s attention. He scrambled to find his bookmark; it certainly was not the ideal time for it to go missing. After feeling desperately around the sheets, he found it and tucked it away in his book. Sitting the book on the nightstand, he promptly scurried to the kitchen. He nudged the door open and failed to feel surprised by the scene in front of him.

Kazuichi hovered over the sink, gripping his hand. Gundham noticed the gash on his finger and how he held it away from the running water, hesitantly. 

“Kazuichi! What have you done?” Gundham questioned, concern washing over him. He shuffled over to get a better view. The nick didn’t appear to be too distressing, but Kazuichi’s expression would suggest otherwise

He turned, head hanging as he spoke, “I tried to peel an apple, but ended up peeling my finger.” Using the uninjured hand, he turned the sink off. “I know I need to wash it, but it’s gonna hurt! And it already hurts. I’m not tryin’ to make it worse!” 

Gundham shook his head and reached to turn the sink back on. “We are both aware that you must wash it.” 

“I’ll just throw a bandaid on it—” He shrugged as he stepped away from the water. He was far too stubborn for his own good, and Gundham’s liking. 

“You will do no such thing.” Kazuichi acted the same way every time he injured himself. Gundham began to think that perhaps he enjoyed being taken care of. He pulled a chair out from the table and motioned for Kazuichi to sit. 

Souda obliged, sitting and waiting while Gundham fumbled through the cupboards. He searched until he came back to the dining table with a small kit and a wet cloth. “I store these items in the kitchen for a reason.” He sat in a chair, put in front of the other. “Let me see your finger.” 

“Finee, but be gentle.”

Gundham nodded. He used the cloth to wipe the cut clean, continuing despite Kazuichi’s winces of protest. The cloth drug roughly across his skin. He laughed, “Your hands are exceptionally dry. I am not sure how you cut through your leather-like skin with a mere vegetable peeler.”

“Hey! Not nice Gundham.” Kazuichi pouted, “I do a lot with these hands.”

“Even more reason for you to take care of them.” He deadpanned and Kazuichi brushed him off; it was fair, considering Gundham spoke of how rough his hands were each time they touched.  After finishing with the cloth, Gundham found a tube of ointment and applied it liberally on the skin. He then unwrapped a bandage and smoothed it down on his finger. “I have finished. It was not so awful, now was it?”

“Nuh-uh.” Kazuichi grinned, much to Gundham’s dismay. He knew he had dressed the wound in its entirety. “You gotta kiss it better.”

Of course he had to; it was Souda’s only demand with most injuries. After bumping into coffee tables, or being bitten by the devas: Kazuichi always requested a simple kiss to make it better. It felt foolish, but he placed a kiss on top of the bandage. “How could I let something of such importance slip my mind?” 

Kazuichi smiled warmly at his action. Interlocking their finger together, he buzzed,  “Y’know, you’re good at this, Gundy.” 

“Thank you. However, it is truly an effortless task. One could compare it to, peeling apples, perhaps?”

[gukyi]

[!] fic alert [!]

THE ART OF THE ROM-COM | JJK

↳ COMING SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH AT 10:30PM EST

summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors. it's not. instead, it's a sisyphean torture that comes namely in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love, or whatever. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook, the world’s #1 hopeless romantic, decides to take it upon himself to show you just how attainable love can really be.

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female) genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form est. wc: 30k warnings: college alcohol consumption, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde & tattooed jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe a/n: as promised, here is my contribution to all of the valentine’s day fics! you guys first got a sneak peek of this fic when i made that poll back in the summer and did all of the BLM drabble commissions, and here we are! hope you guys are as excited for this fic as i am!!

PREVIEW:

“Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”

You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts. 

He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”

That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change. 

“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s 

“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you. 

“We’ll be the stars.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.

You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”

“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.

“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”

“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.

“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”

How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts. 

Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.

“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches. 

“So, you in?”

You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have anything better. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again. 

“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you. 

Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. You wouldn’t put it past her. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes. 

As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?

You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart. 

Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

[ziamhaze]

My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months?  The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week?  Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years.  I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again.  I never ever thought about writing as a career.  I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451.  I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school.  I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself.  Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years.  I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins.  Yes, the Harper Collins.  It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission.  Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about.  I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song.  This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel.  Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up.  He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service.  They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior.  But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project.  The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions.  For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive.  And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny.  When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed.  Liam, to Hutton.  Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian).  As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic.  Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters.  I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time.  That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication.  For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1.  Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn).  Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way. 

2.  Cold War AU.  Paris, circa 1950/51.  Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school.  Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second.  The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes.  When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy.  Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something.  It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero.  This is how you get better.  This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day.  You have to put in the work in order to get better.  I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots.  I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories.  Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing.  If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k.  Also, sequels?  Prequels?  Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep.  I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves.  If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea.  I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself.  That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month.  It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable.  I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it.  I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts!  But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you.  Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love!  The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU!  It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them.  @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure!  @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts.  @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it.  You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff.  Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

[grapehyasynth]

First Line Challenge

I was tagged by @missgeevious and @my-nameless-bliss - thank you!! This looks like a lot of fun - normally these games require that I remember something about my works or think deeply about them and this does neither of those so I love it. I also kind of love first lines/first paragraphs because I have held dear to me the concept from a creative writing class that in a short story, you don’t have time for exposition and need to drop the reader write into the juicy action. I try to follow that as much as I can!

Post the first line of the last 20 things you’ve written. Then tag 20 people to do the same.

I am skipping my drabbles because I don’t know, chronologically, when those were actually posted.

I am also not going to tag 20 people but I will tag: @maybewecandreamalittle @roguebebe @hullomoon @flashbastard @theswiftiewholived @maxbegone @lisamc-21 @januarium @startswithhope  @davidbrewer @lilythesilly @blueink3��� @middyblue​ @danverses​ @schittposting @kindofspecificstore

1. It starts, as these things seem wont to do, with Ray.  (Smorgascreek)

2. “Mr. Rose, I was supposed to be at the cafe twenty minutes ago to help David with the-” (Gossip is the devil’s telephone)

3. It’s a lush summer night, hot and swollen, and Patrick knows his husband would rather be inside, upstairs in their borrowed bedroom where his parents have kindly installed the AC window unit. (people worth missing, things worth sharing)

4. It’s been a long day at the store, their busiest since the soft opening, and Patrick’s thrilled.  (Sounds of Pleasure)

5. David would never willingly enter a laundromat.  (Making Change)

6. The Roses have a small, rented house in Los Feliz, and no matter how many times Moira has assured Patrick that “we’re very close to signing the concordat on a more permanent dwelling - any day now!”, he still has a hard time fitting his larger-than-life costar here, in this humble, quiet corner of Los Angeles. (Son-rise Bay)

7. Patrick has made a terrible mistake. (Breakout Sessions)

8. Patrick has his first little gay spiral on the walk home from work, when he sees the entire Jazzagals troupe flocking to the cafe. (come as you are)

9. So when you said you hated pet names,” Patrick says the minute they get up to their borrowed bedroom, and David freezes where he’s crouched by his suitcase, “you only meant from me, huh?” (Negotiation of Terms)

10. David regrets everything. (beneath the arc of the earth’s halo)

11. Patrick comes into the living room for movie night, where David’s been watching Friends while Patrick finishes up some paperwork, and sighs. (Seating Arrangements)

12. do you have plans tonight (your eyes are wider than distance)

13. “This is not how I wanted to spend my night,” Alexis grumps, as if he didn’t know. (laughing and hydrating and listening to frank ocean)

14. David is speedwalking down the length of the motel within seconds of getting Stevie’s text. (Picking up this heat)

15. “So I have an idea for our second date,” David says, after the dust - of the body at the motel, of Mrs. Rose’s hysteria, and of Patrick stumbling over not being ready for the sex he very, very much wants to have with David - has settled. (I like you down to the sugar on your fingertips)

16. Stevie walks into the cafe in her puffy winter coat, takes one look at Patrick sitting alone in a booth with a wrapped present on the table in front of him, and spins back around, heading for the door.  (Brewer Birthday (Non)Bombardments for Budd)

17. They’re in Patrick’s bed - well, more on the bed than in bed, because David’s foot is the only part of him that’s covered by the sheet. (Butt Stuff)

18. All semester, every time Patrick gets drunk, he’s drinking because of David. (like rum on the fire)

19. David takes one look at Patrick when he ambles into their kitchen after shucking his shoes and coat and bag in the hall and says, “Well, don’t you look like you’ve just been through an emotional trash compactor.” (To my younger self)

20. David goes looking for towels, mostly to have five minutes away from Alexis for the first time since all of this started, but also because he cannot be expected to dry his  body  with the sandpaper currently hanging in their bathroom, a room smaller than his claw-footed tub in New York.   (If you’re looking for an ass to kiss)

If you made it this far, I’ll share with you that looking at some of these again, I was like - wow, I miss that one. A kind of special feeling when writing fic can so often feel like banging your head through concrete. Sorry for that visual. Also, I will always ragret naming a fic Butt Stuff. But (ha) here we are.

[hood-ex]

Dude, I love reading everybody's fan works, but I myself cannot write for my life. I have so many ideas but it just seems impossible to actually put any of them on paper past a couple of notes. Do you have any tips for getting any stories done, even if it's just a really short one? (Also, Happy New Year!!)

Happy New Year! 

Sure, yeah! I’ll list a few tips for ya! 

If you haven’t written a lot/at all then consider starting off with either a drabble (100 words) or a one-shot (typically 1000+ words). The action here is supposed to be fast. You won’t have to worry about super descriptive details and things like that. You can just get out the main points of the story. 

I’ll give you an example of something I’ve written that’s only about 200 words or so. This fic is very short but it still manages to tell a story because it follows a very basic plot structure. 

The paragraph that builds up to the action is very short, and this paragraph is the entire exposition of the story. It introduces the main character (Dick), and it tells us what Dick is doing. This sets the scene so the reader can now picture Dick sitting on a couch with his pizza.

The rising action is Dick describing the pizza he got, and the reader getting a sense that something about the pizza is wrong based on the way Dick freezes at the sight of it. 

The climax is Dick realizing he ordered the wrong pizza. He got Damian’s pizza order, and this is where the reader realizes that Damian is dead.

The falling action is Dick putting the pizza away in the fridge next to all his other untouched meals. This is the effect from the climax, and it lets the reader know that Dick is still grieving over Damian. 

The resolution is Dick going to the shower to cry. The fact that Dick is going to the shower to cry tells the reader something about his character and gives him a little more depth. 

Notice how I stick to the very basics. There is no long, descriptive introduction that builds up the scene like you might see in other stories that start off by describing the gray clouds, the pouring rain, all the Gotham residents bundled away in their homes, etc. There are no lengthy descriptions about what Dick’s apartment looks like or what he’s initially feeling. Nope. It’s just Dick sitting on his couch to eat his pizza because he’s hungry. Super basic, right?

This is kind of what I mean when I say that sometimes I just jump into a scene and write. It’s the same as starting a story with dialogue rather than a descriptive paragraph. Dialogue immediately throws you into a character’s conversation, and dialogue is much easier and faster to write than wordy paragraphs. 

This fic of mine is an example of a story that is essentially just dialogue. Sure, there are a few descriptive sentences here and there to help the reader visualize the scene better, but most of the action is the dialogue. And we can apply the same basic plot structure to this story as well. 

Exposition: The Titans are in the car. Dick is tired. 

Rising Action: The Titans think Dick is going to fall asleep during the movie they’re going to watch. Dick says he’ll be fine, and he asks what movie they’re going to watch. 

Climax: Gar complains about the movie Kory picked for them to watch. Vic suggests watching another chick flick. Gar is not happy about it. 

Falling Action: Dick confuses Dinah with Diana. Donna gives him shit for it. 

Resolution: Gar thinks Dick is adorable and asks if he can be like this more often. Dick says something to make Vic and Donna laugh, and then Dick finally falls asleep. 

The plot structure is something we learn in school that we usually associate with novel length stories, but you can see in my examples that the plot structure can also be used for very short fics. Personally, the rising action and falling action are things that I don’t really plan out. They kind of just occur naturally when I’m writing. The exposition, climax, and resolution are usually the things that stick out in my mind the most (and it’s totally normal to just picture one or two of the three before you start writing). 

As a beginner, filling out the plot structure with the few notes you have will help you turn your notes into full sentences and dialogue. Let’s test this out just by filling in the plot structure starting with very little information.  

For example, let’s say I want to write a fic and all the notes I have for it consists of:

Jason (as Red Hood) is crying

Dick (as Nightwing) comforts him

Alright, well now I need to build a scene around those two notes. So now let me fill in some information for the plot structure. When I’m filling it out, I want to keep things like the characters and setting in mind. 

What I end up with is: 

Exposition: Dick and Jason are being held as prisoners on an alien planet. Dick and Jason are in a cell together. The cell is small and cold. They don’t know why they’ve been taken in as prisoners. They can’t understand the alien’s language. All they have is each other to rely on. Dick is keeping watch while Jason leans against him, asleep. 

Rising Action: Guards come to Dick and Jason’s cell. They are really fucking big. Way bigger than humans. Jason wakes up, startled and disoriented. He sits up. The guards start speaking. Dick has no idea what they’re saying. He tenses in anticipation.

Climax: All hell breaks loose. The guards make a grab for Jason. Jason defends himself. Dick attacks the guards to protect Jason. The small cell makes it hard to fight. The guards crowd Jason and harshly restrain him, making Jason cry out. Dick tries to free Jason. One guard uses a device to shock Dick in the head. This causes Dick to have a seizure. Dick can hear Jason going ballistic. Jason’s screaming for him and cussing at the guards. But then Jason’s voice gets further away, and Dick is left to ride out the seizure on his own. 

Falling Action: Dick’s seizure passes. His head is foggy, he’s got a horrific headache, and his body feels sore. The more time passes, the more tired Dick feels. He’s in and out of sleep, his anxiety for Jason’s safety keeping him from sleeping fully. At some point, the guards return with Jason slumped between them. He’s still conscious. The guards dump Jason on the ground. Once they leave, Dick crawls to him. He starts to ask what happened, having a vague idea that torture was involved based on Jason’s demeanor. He stops after noticing that there are tears on Jason’s cheeks. Jason looks away and his shoulders are shaking. 

Resolution: Jason hisses through his teeth when Dick tries to gently sit Jason up against the wall. Jason mumbles that he’s too sore for sitting and he just wants to lie down. Jason uses Dick’s thigh as a pillow and curls up into himself. His shoulders are still shaking, and Dick hears him sniffle. Dick tries to comfort him by rubbing small circles into Jason’s back. Jason lets out a shaky breath and falls quiet. Dick keeps doing it until he starts to nod off, completely drained from the seizure. They both fall asleep in pain, but with the knowledge that at least they’re together. 

Okay so see how I was able to flesh out the two original notes into something more in-depth that turned into actual sentences? That’s something you can do with the notes for your stories. Put all your ideas for each part of the scene into quick, short sentences. 

Filling in the plot structure like this helps you flesh out those brief notes into an actual scene that you can build off of. And if you look at what I wrote, you’ll notice that there are sentences I came up with that I can actually use in the story when I’m writing it.

Does that make sense? Basically what I’m saying is just come up with short sentences to describe each part of the plot structure. These short sentences will form the bigger picture of your story. Then you want to use those sentences you wrote to help you build the beginning, middle, and end of your story. 

I think that part of what makes writing a story so hard is simply just starting the scene. For me, it’s usually always the hardest part. You can make it easier for yourself by jumping into a more action filled part of a scene or by starting the story off with dialogue. For example, if I want to start off the Dick and Jason prisoner story then I can be like:

“You made my arm fall asleep,” Dick mutters under his breath. 

Jason, who’s currently treating Dick’s right side like a damn body pillow, answers with a soft snore. Between the cold floor of the prison cell and Jason’s body weight slowly crushing him, the snoring is just the cherry on top of this whole shitty situation.

The dialogue allows me to introduce the characters and the setting. Just from the first line, I know that Dick is in this story, he’s uncomfortable, and someone else is with him because he said the word “you.” This gives me the perfect chance to introduce Jason as the person Dick is with. It also gives me the chance to explain the setting by letting the reader know that Dick and Jason are in a cell. Now are prison cells usually pleasant? No. So I made sure to mention that the cell is cold. Now the reader knows Dick is uncomfortable, cold, and he’s stuck in a terrible situation. 

And the story just keeps building and building from there. 

Tbh, a big part of this is just having the will to start writing. You just have to make yourself type something even if it’s shit. And it’s totally fine to play around with sentences! Just try it out by writing maybe three sentences. Don’t like it? Erase. Tackle the scene from a different angle. Change the dialogue. Start the story from a different location or with different characters. Don’t like it? Erase.

Keep practicing. You’ll eventually come up with something that’ll just click in your brain, and before you know it, you’ll have typed a paragraph of two. And your brain and your hands will work together, and you won’t have to think so hard about what you’re writing. Your hands will just go once you’re in a groove.

But yeah, dude, that’s all I got for you right now! I hope that was somewhat helpful to you! Lemme know if you have any other questions!  

[noona-la-la-la]

Flight 18

Summary:  Korean Air Flight 18 leaves daily from Los Angeles traveling to Seoul.  You’ve taken this flight before, but this time you’ve got an irritating passenger in the neighboring seat.  Little did you know that he would end up giving you the ride of your life.

Wordcount: 9500 ish.  This was only supposed to be a small drabble, but I got carried away.

Warnings:  Sex sex sex!  Oral sex for everybody.  Finger banging.  Penis in vagina. Sex with strangers! Sex in a bathroom so if you are germ phobic, good luck with that.  Also, dirty talking vulgarity galore.

Notable:  It’s Hoseok y’all!  So you can stop nagging me about how I don’t have any Hobi fics!

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“See something you like?” The man sitting across from you at the boarding gate stretched out his hands and spread his knees further apart, as if inviting you to take a closer look.

“I… I’m sorry.  I was just zoning out.  I didn’t even realize I was looking in your direction,” you lied.  

“Uh-huh.  Sure.  Tell yourself whatever you need to, “ he replied with a smirk.

You ignored him, raising the book you had been reading higher, covering your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.  The truth was you had been staring, but not because you were attracted.  Instead you were appalled that anyone would show up to an airport dressed like that.

This guy, whoever he was, had shown up to the airport wearing shorts that appeared to be nothing more than a pair of gray sweats that had been cut off at the knees and a denim jacket that he had only bothered to use two buttons to close.  He had on no shirt underneath and with his jacket being barely closed, a large portion of his upper chest and his abdomen were visible.  His sweat-shorts were hung low on his hips to make sure the waistband of his Balenciaga underwear was visible for all to see.  A hat kept his hair completely covered -- the only modest thing about him.

To think that guy would presume that you might be looking at him because you found him attractive was laughable.  He looks like the kind of guy who got kicked out of his apartment for not paying rent.  Probably couldn’t afford rent because he wasted all his money on stupid designer underwear.  His landlord probably kept the rest of his wardrobe as collateral.   

You stifled a laugh, amused by your own thoughts on why this stranger showed up to the airport looking like that.  Attracted to him? As if.

Peeking over the top of your book to surreptitiously glance at the man again, you were relieved to see his eyes were closed.  His arms were folded across his chest, causing his jacket to ride up some more, bringing his belly button into view.  So tacky, you thought. Although, you had to admit to yourself, it was a nice belly button on a very nice abdomen…  No, you shook your head, it doesn’t matter how nice his body is when this guy clearly has no sense of propriety.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we will now begin pre-boarding for Flight 18 to Inchon International Airport, South Korea…

You gathered your things and moved with the throng of people queuing up to board the plane.  The flight had already been delayed by more than an hour and people seemed anxious to move as quickly as possible.  Normally you would dread the 13 hour flight from Los Angeles to Seoul, but you had saved enough frequent flyer miles to get an upgrade to business class.  You had taken this flight too many times in the noisy and cramped economy class and you were almost looking forward to relaxing in your extra long fully reclining seat with personal multimedia console and full bar service.

The business class cabin had wide seats staggered so as to allow some semblance of privacy. The center aisle had side by side seating separated by a low wall with a retractable window, allowing for traveling companions to chat or for strangers to put the window up and avoid interaction with each other.  You were disappointed to see you had one of the center aisle seats instead of the single seats by the windows -- but took comfort that the wall between you and your neighbor meant that you wouldn’t be trapped in some idle chit chat for 13 hours.

You were struggling to get your carry on luggage into the overhead compartment when you heard a voice, “You aren’t a stalker, are you?”

With a final shove, your bag slid into place and you looked across your seat to see the man who would be sitting next to you for the flight.  It’s was mister half-dressed-Balenciaga-underwear himself.

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“I asked if you were a stalker.  First I catch you staring at me and now you’re sitting next to me… Look.  I’m happy to give you an autograph or whatever, but I need to know you aren’t going to be one of those people who tries to take pictures of me while I’m asleep,” he said with a straight face.

“Is this some kind of joke?  Why would anyone take pictures of you when you sleep?”  

He looked at you inquisitively, one eyebrow cocked upward, and paused before replying.  “So, you don’t know who I am?”

You tilted your head to the side, trying to see him from a different angle.  “Am I supposed to know who you are?  Are you famous or something?”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, causing his shorts to ride even lower on his hips, and shrugged his shoulders.   “I guess I’m not famous enough if you don’t know me.  Sorry to have interrupted you, please carry on.”  With that, he plopped down in his seat and pulled a pair of headphones out of his bag, indicating the time for talking was now over.

You were left a bit flustered by the interaction. What a weird guy, you thought to yourself, hoping that this would be the last time you had to speak to him.  You settled into your seat and closed your eyes as you awaited take-off but, despite your best efforts, your mind started to drift to thoughts of the man seated next you.  What is this guy’s deal?  Is he actually famous or is he just screwing with me?  He is kind of good looking.  But he’s so brash.  He’d have to be brash to dress like that in public.  Tacky.  Tacky and brash… and a bit good looking.

“Would you like a drink, madam?”  The flight attendant interrupted your thoughts to take your order.

“I’ll just have some water for now, thanks.”

“That sounds good,”  the man next to you lowered the window that separated you to more easily speak to the attendant.  “Only can you make mine a soda water?  And add some vodka in there with it?”

“Yes, sir.”  The attendant giggled, finding the way he ordered cute.  You just rolled your eyes.

When the attendant returned, she handed you a small bottle of water and then reached across you to pass your neighbor his vodka and soda. You waited for a minute, assuming he would put the window back up, but when he didn’t -- you leaned forward to reach the button to put it up yourself only to be startled by his head suddenly popping through the opening.

“You really don’t know who I am?”  He was leaning forward over the armrest, encroaching on your private space.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t.  Is that a problem?”  You wondered at this man’s ego. 

He flashed a wide smile.  “No.  It’s actually great.  It means when you were staring at me back at the boarding gate, it was because you were attracted to me and not because you were looking at a celebrity.”  His eyes wandered across your body, making no attempt to hide that he was looking you up and down.  “You aren’t too bad looking yourself, you know.”

You were agitated by his assumptions and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, “You aren’t even wearing a shirt!  How could I not look?  Who dresses like that in public?!”

“So you’re more into my body than my face?  That’s okay.  I can work with that.”  He winked at you before leaning back into his own seat and raising the window.

Stunned into silence, you stared at the barrier that separated the two of you.  You could only see his hat poking up above the retractable window and you contemplated snatching it off his head and beating him with it.  How could anyone be so audacious to say something like that?

You tried to read your book, but your focus kept being pulled back to the stranger in the seat next to you.   What does he mean that he “can work with that”?  You turned the page and squinted, reading the same paragraph multiple times in a row because you could not get the words to make sense.  Also, who asked him for his opinion on my appearance.  “Not that bad?” Whatever.  I know what I look like.  And he’d be lucky to be with someone like me. 

Reading was pointless, so you plugged in your earphones and turned on the video console, flipping through the channels looking for something mindless to watch.  You tried watching a movie, but your mind continued to wander. Seriously, who is that guy?  Was he flirting with me? Is that what’s going on here?  He is kinda cute in a dirty obnoxious sort of way.  

You could feel your cheeks start to flush at the thought that the stranger could really be attracted to you and then immediately admonished yourself.  Stop it!  I always do this.  Just because a guy is overly confident and shows the slightest bit of interest, I don’t need to be flattered.  But, against all your efforts to maintain your composure, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this guy, even with all his arrogance and poor fashion choices, might be a little bit into you.

A few hours into the flight, the meal service began.  When the attendant brought you your dinner, the guy in the seat next to you lowered the window again and looked at your tray of food.

“What did you end up ordering?” he asked without any preamble.  

“I got the fish.” You answered curtly, but politely. 

“I got the beef,” he answered you even though you had not bothered to ask him what he was eating.  “I was thinking about the fish but I’ve had enough bad experiences with low quality airplane seafood to make me think twice about ordering it again.  Is it any good?”

“It’s fine.” You refused to look at him as you answered his questions, not wanting to encourage him further.

“Can I try a bite?”

You set your fork on your plate, irritated at his rudeness.  Who asks people they don’t know for the food off their plate?  You turned to tell him that his request for a bite would be denied, when you once again given an unexpected shock.   “Oh my god!  Will you please button up?  I can see your nipples!”

“Oh?  Hmmm.  I didn’t even realize the buttons had come undone.”  He reached down and buttoned just two buttons on his jacket, making himself look only slightly less indecent.  

“How do you not notice that you are basically topless?”

“I don’t know.  I was warm.  It happens.  Besides, what’s the big deal with a little nipple action.  I wouldn’t be freaking out and asking you to cover up if your nipples popped out of your top.”

You sputtered.  “I… what?  No. I mean… no.  I would not have any nipples popping out because I would be wearing a shirt.  Like I am now.  A shirt!  A real honest to god top that covers me and is appropriate for an airplane.  Why aren’t you wearing a shirt like a normal person for god’s sake?!”

“That seems like an awfully personal question to be asking someone you just met.”  His brows furrowed and his lips pulled taut.  “Are you always so forward?”

Your own eyes flew wide open and you could feel the heat rising up your neck -- unsure whether this was frustration or embarrassment.  How was it possible for this man to suddenly act as though he was the respectable person in this conversation.

Suddenly, his stern expression gave way to laughter.  He could barely contain his glee.  “Look at your expression. Wow!  You look totally flustered!”

You reached over to raise the window and block him out again, but he pushed the button down to thwart you.  

“Okay, okay,” he said.  “Do you really want to know why I don’t have a shirt on?  Because there’s a story to this, but I don’t know if you really want to hear it.”

You doubted that he had a good reason for his attire, but you were curious.  “Go on.”

“So here’s the deal.  I actually had tickets for a flight back to Seoul tomorrow.  But last night, my schedule for today got canceled.  I asked my manager to try to get me on an earlier flight.  He wasn’t sure if it was going to work out because it looked like all the flights were booked.  So I said, see what you can do and call me if you get something booked and I’ll be ready to go whenever.”

“So far this sounds like a very average story about trying to change your flight.  Where does the no shirt thing get explained?” you asked.

“I’m getting to it.  Since I wasn’t sure if the flight change was even going to happen, I went on about my evening…” he paused to think about how he wanted to phrase things.  “Let’s just say, I went out socializing and I ended up falling asleep at my, um, new friends’ house.  When I wake up this morning, I’ve got 10 messages from my manager.  He had been trying to get me all night to tell me he got me on the noon flight to Seoul, but I had my ringer turned down really low and didn’t hear him.  When I called him back, he said he had gotten all my stuff packed up and sent my clothes to the airport with my stylist…”

“You have a stylist and you still end up coming to the airport like this?”

“Just let me finish, alright?  He said the stylist took my luggage with most of my clothes to the airport with her to start checking in and he had my carry on and passport and everything.  I just needed to meet them at the airport.  So I go to find the clothes I was wearing the night before, but one of the girls in bed with me was asleep wearing my shirt…”

“Wait!  One of the girls in bed with you?  How many girls were in this bed?”  This guy was something else, you thought.

“Only two.  I’m not crazy -- more than two is nearly impossible to manage.  Anyways, I try to wake her up so I can get my shirt back, but she’s super groggy and still half asleep and she’s grabbing at my junk like she wants to suck my dick again, but I don’t have time for that.  So, I just put on my jacket, leave, and hail a cab to the airport.  When I got there, my stylist already checked in my luggage under her name, so all I had was this one backpack I always use as my carry on.  My manager somehow remembered to throw in a fresh pair of underwear for me, but nothing else.  And so here I am, wearing last night’s clothes, minus one shirt and adding a fresh pair of undies.”

You weren’t sure whether or not to believe him.  “So… huh.  Um.  Well, that sure is a story.”

“You look like you don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s so… I don’t even know.  So you’re wearing the same clothes you supposedly had sex in last night?”

“I took the clothes off to have sex.  So technically, no, I did not have sex in these clothes.” His face was relaxed as he relayed his story, no sign of embarrassment or shame.

“Most people would want to keep those details private, wouldn’t they.”

“I don’t know about most people, but I was just answering your question.  Besides it’s true and there’s nothing to be ashamed about.  We’re all grown-ups here.”

“Still, it feels so dirty.”

“Like I said, I’m wearing fresh underwear.  Also, when the flight got delayed, that gave me time to run over to the lounge and use the showers in the spa.  That’s why I have to keep my hat on -- didn’t have time to do my hair after the shower, I had to run back to the gate.  The point being, you don’t have to worry about there being any sex-juices or other-girl-cooties on my body.  I’m fresh and clean and ready to be put to use, if that’s something you’d like.”

“I… what?!”  You were dumbfounded.  This man you had just met was telling you sordid stories about his sex life and then asking if you would like “put him to use”.  Your mind reeled.  “Why would you even say that?”

“Because I think you’re kinda hot. And you think I’m kinda hot too.  So, why not?  Besides, I’m not expecting you to make a decision now.  I’m just laying the groundwork so you’ll feel ready when I make a real proposition to you.”

Never in your life had anyone been so brazen with you.  “How is this laying the groundwork for anything?” you asked incredulously.

“Because now you’re thinking about my dick,” he smirked.

“I am not!” you huffed.

“Anyhow - I’ll leave you to finish your meal in peace.  We can talk more later.”  And he pressed the button to raise the window, again separating himself from you, only the blue of his hat visible above the barrier.

You ate your meal in silence but couldn’t really enjoy the taste of anything because he was right, you were actually thinking about his dick. 

Stop.  Stop stop stop stop, you told yourself.  But there was no stopping it.  You picked up your book, but every few minutes, you’d pause to wonder who those women were that he had sex with last night.  Did he know them well?  Why did they want to have sex with him so badly that they were willing to share him?  How does one man even manage to satisfy two women? Does he have some kind of magical sexual prowess?  Is this story even true? He has to be making this up.

You ordered a glass of wine and listened to some music.  One song in particular reminded you of your last boyfriend.  The two of you had broken up over two months ago and you hadn’t had so much as a date since then.  Lack of sexual compatibility was part of the reason you split -- but general boredom was the primary motivator.  

You ex was the epitome of a nice guy.  Easy going, unassuming, respectful.  You didn’t go out much during the week since both of you had full time jobs and wanted to be well rested for work.  Weekends were spent at farmers markets, scenic drives through the woods, going to the movies.  It was pleasant.  In bed, he was romantic and caring, always careful and cautious with your body, wanting to make sure you were okay.  It was an absolutely stress free love affair.  And that was part of the problem.

After a while, you started to crave tension.  It showed up first in the bedroom when you asked him to pull your hair or talk dirty to you as a change of pace.  He tried, you had to give him credit for that.  But every time he uttered the word pussy or said he wanted to fuck you, the words came out whispered and hesitant.  You didn’t have the heart to tell him that even if he learned how to say those words with confidence, you would still be wanting much more than he was able to give.

Over time, you started to realize your dissatisfaction had worked its way into all your interactions.  He was always so agreeable.  You shared the same views on social matters and politics.  He never disagreed when you suggested a movie to watch or restaurant to go to.  You began to wonder if he really was someone who shared all your points of view on everything, all the time -- or was he just so conflict avoidant that he had given up having a personality of his own.

I bet that guy has a filthy mouth on him. Even if he is an asshole, I’m sure he knows how to have a good time. You pondered the raised barrier and were curious as to why he had not tried talking to you again.  It had been a couple of hours since your last interaction and he made it sound like you should be waiting for him to hit on you.  Oh my god - am I actually looking forward to that cocky son-of-a-bitch talking to me again? No, I’m just attention starved.  I need to start dating again -- but real men, not make believe celebrities with no shame.

The captain turned off the main lights in the cabin to give people an opportunity to sleep if they wanted.  You closed your eyes and reclined your seat.  Maybe it would be best to just try to sleep for a bit and put everything out of my mind.  You would be more clear headed if I just got some rest.

It was a few hours later when you awoke.  The cabin was quiet.  A few people conversed in hushed tones, the faint glimmer of an occasional video screen.  One of those glimmering screens was coming from your neighbor.  

You stretched a bit and moved your seat to be a little more upright.  Surprisingly, the window between your seats was down.  Did he lower it to try to talk to me while I was asleep?  You peered over at him and took comfort that he was fast asleep, clearly having dozed off while trying to watch a movie.  

His slumber gave you an opportunity to really look at him more closely. He looked serene and gentle when he wasn’t awake.  His facial features were really quite delicate, a high narrow nose bridge, moderately plump and perfectly pink lips, high cheekbones, his face was gently tanned by the sun.  You would describe him as almost pretty.  His clavicles were pronounced, his chest a bit paler than his face -- he must have been wearing his shirt when he went out in the California sun -- his abdomen was taut and firm, he clearly worked out.

You let your eyes travel further, until noticed something striking going on with his shorts.  At first you wondered if it was just an odd shadow being cast from the lights from the video screen, but the more you looked, the more certain you were that you were looking at an erection.  Not fully erect, you presumed, but there was enough that the draping of the fabric could not conceal everything he had going on between his legs.  This was the distinct form of a penis and you couldn’t stop staring at it.  

“See something you like down there?”

His voice caught you by such surprise you literally jumped in your seat and hit your elbow against the side wall, knocking over your headphones, sending them clattering to the floor.  “Ouch! No. What? I… what?  No.  I was just… I woke up and I saw the window thingy was down and was just checking to see if you wanted to talk to me or something… or you know.”

He laughed aloud, stretched his arms over his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “Were you planning on asking my dick whether or not I wanted to talk to you?  Because I doubt it’s going to tell you much.”

“What?! I.. no!  What are you talking about?”  You tried to act indignant to hide your humiliation at being caught staring at his genitals.  When trapped, deny everything, you thought.

“Are you married?  Have a boyfriend?”  He rolled to his side, still reclined in his seat.

“No.  Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I know I come on strong.  But life is short and I just think if you want something, you should say so.  And I want you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat at his directness, but you tried to hold your expression steady.  There was no point in getting involved with a guy like this.  “You don’t even know me.”

“Ah, let me be more clear.  I want to have sex with you. Right now.”  He carefully watched your face to judge your reaction. “Was that too forward?  I could try the romantic approach if you want, but I always feel like it’s a little dishonest.  I never want to mislead anyone.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and you felt a little light headed.  You had a couple one night stands back in your wilder college days, but those days were long gone.  Besides, no one had ever approached you quite like this.  “I appreciate your candor, but I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl do you think is the kind to say yes?”  He started to sit upright, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t know exactly.  You had two women in bed with you last night -- so those kinds of women, I guess.”

“Do you think you are better than them because they gave in to their carnal desires and just let themselves enjoy the moment?  No one was hurt.  There was no damage done.”

“How do you know there was no damage done?  You just left them there.”

He shook his head, dismissing your statement.  “They were groupies, star fuckers.  I was just a name on their bucket list.  Last night they had sex with me and tomorrow night they’ll be chasing down Shawn Mendes or some other dude.  I gave them what they wanted and they gave me a hell of a good time.  Is that so bad?”

This seemed so unbelievable to you. “Are you really famous?  Or have you just been messing with me?” 

“Is me being a celebrity the thing that will make the difference in whether you say yes or no to having sex with me?”  

You started to squirm under his gaze.  Until now, he had been cocky and arrogant, but it all seemed like a game.  Now, it was starting to get a little more serious and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.  “I don’t actually care if you’re famous or not.  I’m just not generally the kind of person who does whatever she wants -- there are rules against these kinds of things, you know?”

“So you admit that you want it too.”  He looked a bit too pleased with himself.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Are you sure?  It sounds to me like you are trying to talk yourself out of something you actually want.  What’s the point of that?  

You immediately thought of your ex-boyfriend again.  Simple, proper, agreeable and dull.  You had left him for want of more excitement and now here was a man you just met, who was offering you nothing but excitement.  But still, you hesitated, remaining silent but not explicitly saying no.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a condom, making sure you saw it before he slipped it into his pocket.  “Safety first,” he said.  “Also, no strings.  No commitments.  One time - no shame, no guilt.  No consequences.”

“I don’t know…” was all you could eke out.

“It’s time for you to figure out what you want.  So here’s the deal,” he sat up and turned to face you fully.  “I’m getting up and heading into that restroom over there,” he motioned toward the front of the plane, pointing to the left. “I’ll leave the door unlocked while I wait for you.  If you decide to join me, just pop in.  From there on, it’s ladies choice.  I can make it as sweet or as nasty as you want it to be.”

“What happens when I don’t show up?”

“IF you don’t show up, then you don’t show up.  I’m a big boy -- I’ll find other ways to occupy myself.”  With that, he stood up and swaggered away.

This is insane.  Who does this guy think he is? How full of himself is he that he can saunter off expecting me to follow him?  You glanced at the time on your phone.  I wonder how long he plans on waiting?

You remembered reading an article about people who have sex on airplanes; it said that almost 20 percent were complete strangers who met on the plane.  At the time you couldn’t imagine how something like that was even possible.  I guess I know now.  

You wanted to giggle to find yourself in this predicament.  You wanted to be outraged at how presumptuous he had been, but instead you found yourself feeling a bit flattered.  It’s just because I haven’t had much male attention in the past two months.  I’m just feeling a bit deprived - that’s all it is.  Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of doing something like this.  But you were entertaining it and it made you nervous.

You looked around the cabin, most of the other passengers were fast asleep.  The few who were awake mostly seemed to be watching movies with headphones on.  The flight attendants were chatting quietly on the right hand side of the galley, leaving the restrooms on the left side, mostly ignored.

What would my friends say?  Inha would think it’s gross.  Hyeweon would think it’s hilarious.  Dahyun would applaud you for taking risks and trying something new.  Chaewon would be jealous.

Six minutes. That’s how much time had passed.  How long will he wait?  10 minutes?  15?  Certainly not more than that.

You had met girls who were wild and slept around.  When you were younger you used to think that they would end up regretting their poor choices. Yet, you had never once met anyone who told you they wished they had less sex or that they had fewer adventures in their past.  Why are you overthinking this!  Be bad for once in your life.  Who have you ever talked to that regretted going wild?  Nobody - that’s who!  Regret is what you feel when you don’t do something, right?  But still… sex with a stranger?

You don’t even fully remember standing up and walking down the aisle.  All you knew was that your hand was on the door to the restroom and there was no turning back now.

There was no greeting.  No welcome.  Just his lips crashing into yours, fervently prying your mouth open with his tongue.  Your body stiffened in surprise but you did not try to pull away.  His skin was smoother than you expected, his scent was sweet and fresh like the air after a summer rain, his lips seemed far too soft for the violence and urgency of the kiss itself.  

In a far corner of your mind, you could hear your conscience telling you to stop, to run away and return to your seat, to retreat to the relative safety and comfort of your normal self.  But as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your tighter against his body, that voice became more and more distant, until finally it disappeared altogether. You finally relaxed, sinking into him and wrapping your tongue around his.  

Just let everything go and do as you please for once, you told yourself.  Just this once, with no fear and no regrets. 

His kisses moved to your neck as he began to maul you with his hands, squeezing your buttocks, reaching up to molest your breasts, grasping at them through your shirt.  His motions were rough and passionate.  His teeth scraped against your skin while he tugged at your shirt hem, trying to remove it.  You obliged his silent request by pulling away from his grasp, slipping your shirt over your head and tossing it on the counter.

He did not lean back in to continue kissing you.  Instead, he leaned back as much as he could in the confines of the tiny restroom to assess your body, lingering on your chest.  His hand reached out to trace the edges of your bra before he finally spoke to you.  “How do you want it?”

“Excuse me? I don’t under…”

“How do you want things to go?”  He looked up at you, holding your gaze.  “I told you this will be ladies choice.  Tell me what you want me to do?”

You could feel yourself starting to blush.  You had been comfortable letting him take control, but now that he was putting you on the spot to ask for what you wanted, you found yourself growing shy.  You broke eye contact with him and looked down at your feet, crossing your arms as you tried to think of what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased.  “You’re more delicate than I presumed.  So do you prefer gentle and sweet?  I can whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

“No.  Not like that.”  You shook your head to emphasize that romance was not your objective.  You had enough of romance and sweetness.

“Well then...  You want it dirty and you’re just too shy to ask for it?”

You shrugged your shoulders.  “I mean, some dirty talk might be nice.”

“Some?  Exactly how much is some?  I can get pretty filthy if you want me to.”

Awkwardly, you put your arms back by your side and glanced up at him, trying to feign confidence.  “How filthy?”

His eyes flashed with desire as he leaned closer to you, running his hands down your arms.  “Let’s try this.  Take off your bra and let me see you.”

You reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, a slight tremor in your hands.  You were extremely conscious of how bright the lights were and it made you a little nervous to be so exposed and so visible.  “What about you?” you asked as you let your bra slip off your shoulders and you placed it on top of your shirt.

“Me?”  He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it aside.  “Done.  Now we’re both topless.”  

He leered at your chest now, cupping your breasts in his hand as if weighing them.  “Very nice.  You have beautiful breasts.” He watched your face closely for a response.

“Thanks, I guess.”  You weren’t sure what he was expecting from you.

“That’s not it, huh?  How about this?”  He ran his thumbs over your nipples, brushing against them until they grew and hardened.  “I love a girl with a nice pair of tits.  Yours are amazing.  I can’t wait to suck on those nipples.”  

His directness was appealing.  “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Leaning down, he caught your left nipple between his lips and sucked at it, his tongue running circles over it.  The sensation was pleasant and you reached over to pull his hat off his head after suddenly being overwhelmed by the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“I told you I’m having a bad hair day, so just know that.”   He wagged a finger at you before pulling off his own hat and tossling his dark brown locks that had been matted down by hours confined under a hat. 

He bent back down back down to suckle at your nipples, his lips latched tightly to the protruding bud.  The suction sent little shock waves down between your legs as if your breasts were attached to your sex.  

Soon, he detached himself and stood back up, whispering in your ear.  “Your tits are tasty, but I bet your pussy is even better.”  His hand slid between your legs, kneading your cloth covered crotch.  Pulling back a little to better see your face, he asked you, “I want to touch your pussy.” He watched your reaction carefully.  “Or would you rather I finger fuck your cunt?”

Your previous boyfriend would have sooner died than ever uttered the dreaded “c” word.  But hearing a man you just met talk about your cunt thrilled you, and you could feel the moisture gathering between your legs.  “Finger my cunt, please,” you whispered back at him.

He smiled and nodded.  “Yeah, you do want it dirty don’t you?”

All you could do was nod in affirmation before he shoved his hand under the waistband of your pants and beneath your panties, tracing your slit before penetrating you with his fingers.  He slid in and out of your vagina, the palm of his hand cupping your vulva.  His lips returned to your neck, biting at you.  The heat of his breath matched the growing warmth of your sex.  “Oh, fuck!  That feels good,” you encouraged him to keep going.

“You like that?  You like having my fingers up your cunt hole?  You like getting finger banged by some dude in a public toilet?  Tell me again about what kind of girl you are.  Little miss prim and proper, my ass.”

Biting your lip, you tried to hold back, but you couldn’t help it.  You mewled like a cat to hear the filth coming from his mouth.  Your stomach fluttered at the crude way he described your reality.  You were now the kind of girl who lets a guy finger her in an airplane toilet.  This was not who you thought you were when you woke up this morning.

Enthused by the sounds emanating from you, he started to finger you more vigorously.  Slipping in a second digit and thrusting so hard, it shook your body.  His other hand slid up your back, over your neck until his fingers were entwined with your hair.  He ensnared a fistful of hair right at your scalp and pulled your head back, further exposing your neck to him.  He licked a line from your clavicle to your chin and then planted a long lingering kiss on your lips.

Your mewls turned into a full on moan.  Never had you been this turned on in your life.  “Oh my god,” was the most coherent thing you could say.

“I love those little noises you are making, but if this is how you get from a finger fuck, I can’t wait to see how you react when I’ve got my face buried in your snatch.  Now, let’s get these pants off of you.” 

He tugged at your waistband, lowering your pants and panties together, getting them to mid thigh when you took over - wiggling to get them to fall to the floor before kicking them off completely.  “Shouldn’t you be getting undressed too?” you asked.

“There’s some time before that’s necessary.  Let’s take care of you first.” He tried to kneel down, but the tiny confines of the bathroom made it difficult.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up off the floor and set you on to the narrow counter.

You sat precariously, one butt cheek halfway over the sink, and you could feel the cold hard metal of the faucet pressing uncomfortably into your backside.  Before you could adjust yourself, you felt hands pressing your thighs upwards, bending your knees into your chest and without warning, something soft and wet snaking through the folds of skin between your legs. You clung tightly to the edge of the counter to keep from slipping off.

Looking to your side, you could see your reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, your naked body illuminated by the harsh light overhead.  The rather unflattering lighting and pose was offset by the amazingly lurid sight of a man kneeling on the floor, his head pressed between your thighs.

He lapped at your clit, dragging his tongue across your pussy - wet and sloppy.  You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices just as he came up for air.  “That’s one juicy and delicious cunt you got there.  You get this wet for all the boys, or is it special for me?” he asked before diving back in, opening his mouth wide as if trying to devour you whole.

It felt amazing.  The heat inside your grew with every stroke of his tongue against your raw flesh.  He let go of one thigh and brought it to you damp slit, further spreading your lips apart.  His nose pressed against your clit while he inserted his tongue where his fingers had been earlier.  Sucking and slurping away at you.

“Mmmmmmmm…”  You desperately tried to keep quiet.  Biting down hard on your lower lip to prevent yourself from being overheard by the people outside, but still the occasional hushed moan or hum would escape your lips.  The noises spurred him on to keep going, rubbing his face into you, covering himself with the glistening evidence of your arousal.

He let go of your other thigh to insert his fingers back into you while his lips affixed themselves directly to your clit.  His fingers curving upward as he pumped them in and out of you, hitting your g spot with every stroke, while his tongue laved your clit.  “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded as you grabbed on to his hair and pulled his face tighter into you. “Please.”

You extended your legs, realizing that the bathroom was so small that you could sit on the counter and plant your feet on the opposite wall, helping stabilize you enough that you could close your eyes and just let yourself feel the pleasure of this man ministering to your sex.  

As your orgasm approached, you could feel you leg start to shake and your breath quicken.  He sucked lightly at your clit before pulling back the hood and drawing his tongue gently across the surface.  You gasped aloud at the intensity, which he took notice of.  “You like that?  You like being spread open wide and licked like a bitch in heat?  Tell me.”

“Yeah.  I like it.”

“What do you like?  Say it.  You aren’t the only one who wants to hear some dirty talk.  Tell me what exactly you like.”

“I like it when you lick my cunt.  I like the way your tongue feels against my clit.  God, I’m going to cum if you keep doing it like this.”

Smiling, he returned to his duties; his mouth placed firmly against you and slurping at you like eating a ripe piece of fruit.  He removed his fingers from inside you and instead used them to spread you pussy lips even wider open.  The loss of sensation from within you was disappointing.  You were so close to cumming right on his face, but the urgent desire to have something inside you was growing stronger.

“I need you inside me,” you implored.  

He didn’t hesitate.  Standing up from his position on the floor, he massaged the growing bulge in his shorts for a moment while staring directly into your eyes.  “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes wandered down to where his hand was playing with himself.  “I want you to fuck me.   I want it so bad, you don’t even know.” Any reservations or shyness you once had was driven out by the overwhelming lust.

“Oh, I know.” His conceit was amazing, but you were too horny to care.  

“So what are you waiting for?”

He pulled his shorts and underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving him completely naked in front of you.  His body was lean and taut, the image of youthful sexuality.  His dick stood proudly erect in front of him, firm and smooth.  Between his two fingers, he held up the condom that he had stealthily removed from his pocket.  “You, put it on me,” he demanded.

Sliding off the counter, you welcomed being able to stand upright for a moment, with nothing poking you in the back and no fear of accidentally slipping off.  But once again the space was so cramped, that you could not both stand on the floor and not have your bodies collide.  His distended dick brushed against your pussy as you grabbed the condom from his hand.

He leaned in and kissed you again, deeply and passionately.  “Can you taste yourself?  You were fucking delicious, I could have stayed down there for hours.  You should know what you taste like.”  With that comment, he slipped his finger back between your folds, dipping into your juices and pulling out a slick and glazed finger.  He held it to your lips.  “Suck my finger and taste for yourself.”

You balked at first, never having even thought of what you might taste like.  But he pressed forward and you grew curious, opening your mouth until he laid his finger on your tongue.  You licked his finger clean, intrigued to see if you were as delicious as he had claimed.  The salty sweet mixture was better than you imagined.  “Good girl,” he told you.

Fumbling with the condom wrapper, you finally got it open and reached down to grab hold of his manhood.  You held him in your palm and enclosed your fingers around him, meaning to hold him steady while you slipped the condom over the head of his dick, but you couldn’t resist stroking him with your hand for a moment.  He sighed contentedly at the sensation and leaned back against the wall, allowing you more room to see what you were doing.

His penis was beautifully formed, you thought.  Big enough but not too big.  Firm and hefty, the girth felt just right in your hand.  Without thinking, you pressed the head of his cock against your slit and stroked it against your clit.  His eyes flew open wide and he looked down at what you were doing.  

“Were you planning to fuck me raw?” he asked.

“No, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You quickly slipped the condom over the tip and rolled it down his shaft.  Although, you had to admit that the idea of having condomless sex seemed appealing -- but you had not yet lost all your sense of self preservation.  “Now you have a little bit of my pussy juice under the condom with you.”  

“You act so normal, but you’re a freak in the sheets, aren’t you?”  He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around so he was pressed into your back while you could see his face reflected back at you in the mirror over the sink.    “Now, spread your legs and hold still while I shove my cock up your hot little fuck-hole.”

You keened at the vulgarity, spreading your legs wide and leaning forward enough to arch your back slightly, giving him better access.  He leaned over you, squatting down slightly to slip his penis into you, pressing his chest against your back and then thrusting upward, pushing forward and burying himself to his hilt inside your pussy.

“Good god, you are so warm inside.”  He slowly pulled himself out before thrusting up into you again and again… and again.  Slow and steady, he fucked you for several minutes, but you wanted more and started pushing back against him, egging him on to fuck you faster.  

“Nice, “ was all he said before slapping your ass and speeding up his thrusts. 

“Yeah,” you panted.  “Very nice.”

He folded his body over you, planting one hand on the counter to hold him steady and sliding the other hand around you to stroke your clit while he fucked you.  You could feel an ache starting to build up inside you and wanted more.  You raised one leg and placed it on top of the closed toilet seat lid, spreading yourself open wider and giving him greater access to you.   

As his fingers drummed against your clit, his thrusts accelerated.  His body engulfed you and his mouth was pressed against your ear where he whispered to you.  “Such a good girl, huh?  Is this what you do?  Fuck total strangers in bathrooms?  You act all proper, but you really just want to get a good pounding in your cunt by some random dude.  You don’t even know my name, do you?”

For the first time, it dawned on you that you had never bothered to ask his name.  Nor had he asked for yours.  The realization both appalled and thrilled you.  This was by far the most depraved thing you had ever done.  “What is your name?” you asked while he continued to plunge his cock deep into you.

“What does it matter now?  You are fucking a total and absolute stranger.  I’m going to make sure you cum on the cock of a guy whose name you don’t know.  Just think about that, my dick is rammed up your cunt and you like it.  What does that make you?”

You tried to fight the moan building in your throat.  His words should offend you but instead they brought you closer to the edge.  “A slut,” you answered him.  “Fucking a total stranger makes me a slut.”

“That’s okay,” he consoled you.  “I’m a dirty slut too.”

He grabbed your breast and buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on the skin.  His fingers continued their assault on your clit while he pounded away at you pussy.  Finally, you came undone, gasping, open mouthed in a silent scream as your orgasm hit with full force.  Your body shook and all you could do was whimper quietly until finally the feeling subsided.

“Oh my god.  That was amazing,” you turned around to face him.

“I’ll say.” He looked desperate and his eyes blown wide.  “I could feel you pulsing around my cock.  I was so close to cumming myself.  I just need a little more to take me over the edge.”

“What exactly do you want?”

He moved you to the other side of the room so he could now sit on top of the closed toilet seat.  Slipping off the condom, he told you exactly what he wanted.  “Suck me off.  I want to cum down your throat.”

You looked at his dick, standing ramrod straight, leaking precum from the tip.  It looked ready to bust and you felt a strange pride that you had managed to get him this turned on.  Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth.

His brow furrowed as he watched you bobbing your head up and down, snaking your tongue along his shaft.  One hand held your hair back while the other balled up in a fist and rested on the counter.  He was holding back, you could tell.

Redoubling your efforts, you locked your lips around him and focused on the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the sensitive tip, before inching down further until you had swallowed as much of his flesh as you could stand.

“Fuck yeah. You are really good at this.  You must have sucked a lot of dick.”  For a guy who claimed to have had sex with two women the night before, you took this as a significant compliment.  “I’m not going to last long if you keep this up.”

You came back up for air and smiled.  Gripping his saliva covered cock, you stroked his shaft while planting delicate kisses at the tip.  “I want to see you cum.  I want to taste you.  If I’m going to be a slut, I want it all.”  You then plunged your head back down, sucking him like your life depended on it.  You wanted him to remember you the next time he got his dick sucked by some random girl.  Your pride depended on it.

It was only a couple minutes when he started to completely lose himself.  You watched as he pursed his lips and threw his head back.  His grip on your hair tightened and his eyes glazed over while you could see his abdomen contract and then you tasted it.  The slightly salty, slightly bitter taste of his cum landed on your tongue.  You pushed your head down further so he could truly cum down your throat and making it easier to swallow.  It was only a few spurts, but they seemed to come out with great force, nearly making you choke.   

When he was done, his body relaxed and he slumped forward.  “My god, I’m going to need a nap after that.  You sucked the life right out of me.”  He leaned down, placing his hand under your chin and tipping your face upwards, planted a soft and rather sweet kiss on your lips.  “Thank you.  This was wonderful,” he said.

“The feeling is mutual.”

After giving yourselves a minute to bask in the afterglow, you both started the clumsy task of getting redressed in the tight confines of the bathroom.  You bumped into each other, knocking into the walls and accidentally turning on the sink, until finally you were both dressed and ready to step outside.  

As soon as you opened the door, a flight attendant stood in the passageway and greeted you with a knowing look.  “If you both want to retake your seats, we’ll begin breakfast service soon and should be landing in another hour and a half.”

Mortified, you returned to your seat and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone else on the plane.  Had they all heard you?  Did everyone know?  Your partner in crime seemed unphased and immediately fell asleep as soon as he sat down.

The rest of the flight seemed to go without incident.  You refused breakfast in order to avoid talking to the attendant and hid yourself behind your book.  You tried to read, but the truth was you couldn’t help replaying the events from just an hour before while you grinned like a giddy schoolgirl, amazed that you had been caught doing something extremely naughty but somehow escaped punishment.  You doubted that you would be able to think about anything else for days to come.

Once the plane landed, your neighbor finally awoke and stretched out.  He looked across at you and smiled warmly.  “Hey, I just want to say that I enjoyed our flight and will remember this fondly.  I hope you will too.”

You tried to look look cool and unfussed, although you were secretly happy that he wasn’t completely ignoring you and running off without saying anything like he did to those girls from the night before.  “I have no regrets.  It was a good time.”  You stood up to gather your things and wait to get off the plan, but noticed he was making no moves.  “Are you just going to hang out on the plane?”

“I have to get off last.  It’s too much chaos with the fans in the terminal, so I’ll get off later with my team.  It gives the other passengers time to get by before the mob of fans and paparazzi obstruct everything.”

“Ah, right,” you said, disbelieving. You wondered if this was just a ploy to separate from you and cover up for the fact that he had been playing at being a celebrity this whole time.  “Out of curiosity, what is your name?”

He thought for a moment before answering.  “You can just call me Jay.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” he responded honestly.  “Let’s just say that it’s something of a nickname that I’ve been given.  It seems the most appropriate way for you to remember me.”

You shrugged your shoulders and decided to not break the illusion.  “Well, Jay, thanks for everything.”  You gave him a small wave good-bye before stepping into the aisle with the rest of the exiting passengers and left him behind forever.

--------------------

--------------------

--------------------

Mini-Epilogue:

You walked down the wide concourse, pulling your luggage behind you.  You were largely unaware of your surroundings since you attention was on your phone, trying to text your friends that you had landed and make plans for seeing them later in the evening.  You had already been practicing in your head how you would tell them about your adventurous flight and the mystery man who made it so memorable.  

Behind you, you could suddenly hear a loud commotion.  Girls cheering and yelling, the rushing of feet.  You turned to see what was going on and could see the flashing of cameras as a crush of people moved towards the exits.  You strained to see who was at the center of all the excitement.

“Do you know what’s going on?” you asked an older man standing next to you who was also watching the crowd pass by.

“It’s one of those idol boys.  The girls go nuts for them.  I saw one of the girls carrying a sign saying ‘Welcome back J-Hope’.  What kind of name is J-Hope anyway?  It sounds weird if you ask me.”

“I’ve never heard of him.  He must not be too famous.”  

“Exactly.  These girls should all be in school and not following around some no name nobody.”  The man threw his hands up in disgust before walking off.

You turned to go your own way, but a thought nagged at you.  You tapped the name J-Hope into your phone and smiled at the results. The story you would tell your friends just got a bit more interesting.

[janusa]

fic writer review!

thanks @thebluewritingbench​ for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

45 across different fandoms

2. Whats your total ao3 word count?

147,116 atm

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

About 5 or 6? But the ones I have more content in is Shadowhunters and Supergirl.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

the sg fandom is the most interactive one i’ve been in so 4/5 are sc

all the universe laboured to bring us together (the rest is up to us) -  in which Mxyzptlk takes Kara to different earths where they are friends but Lena is in established relationships so Kara can finally realize she's in love with her.

on the way home - The Danvers sisters travel to Midvale for a short vacation and their girlfriends tag along, or for Kara is more like her girl friend.

I’m thinking about adding a little epilogue to this one since i’ve been screamed at in the comments a few times lol

i believe in red - lena starts leaving lipstick marks on kara’s clothes for more reasons than the obvious one,

realization - Magnus suspects it and it takes him three times and a chat with Cat to realize that yes, his soul and Alec’s accidentally bonded.

on purpose - kara believes in soulmates, however when she tells lena about she being supergirl everything goes down the road and she has to start to reconsider what are really soulmates.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

yes, to some of them, there are some comments that i can’t say much to beyond a ‘thanks’ so i don’t always answer them but i read every one of them multiple times, they hit me like crack.

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending

i’m the happy ending business so there’s no much material to choose from. I have a malec drabble where alec dies from age with magnus by his side. i guess that the end of ‘seven year itch’ as well because they end up divorced but they’re (supposed) to be back in the sequel that one day i’ll finish writing.

7. Do you write crossovers?

No, but sometimes I include characters from the same universe, like in sh i sometimes write lily, she’s in the books but not the show or with sg i really like barry and sarah so i’d like to include them someday.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, just some confusing comments in which idk if they’re being sarcastic or not .

9. Do you write smut?

Not very often but yes

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No that I know

11. Ever had a fic translated?

Once I was asked if they could translate one of my fics to korean, I said yes but Idk if they ever did it

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nop, just like art based of and vice versa kinda thing

13. All time fav ship?

not all time but atm is Supercorp

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

there’s been sitting in my wip folder a kinda revenant!lena fic (not the movie) that includes like mythology and coincidentally her mom being some water spirit etc, some heavy ansgt with its respective happy ending of course. that fic and also “no turning back” 

15. Writing strengths?

I never lack ideas, dialogue and narration, I think I’m good identifying the characters personalities (emphasis on i think)

16. Writing weaknesses?

slow as shit, i get so easily distracted that is a victory whenever i write more than a paragraph in a row

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

it’s fine but i think it’s necessary either to add the meaning on the notes or explain it in the narration

18. First fandom you wrote for?

inuyasha, i wrote it for like seven years but everything is on spanish so... none of you will be seeing it

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

tough one, right now Mama Penguin Adventures is being really fun to write, it’s cute and fun and not that serious, at least what i’ve written so far

i think most people have been tagged but i'll tag @bytheangell, @kg1507 and whoever else wants to do it really but feel free to ignore me

[phdmama]

Hi dear!

I’ve got several numbers for that writing ask game… are you ready?

1. (I’m particularly asking about the “how’s the progress” part)

4.

6.

9.

14.

22.

I hope you’re having a great day (or as great as it can be, anyway❤️)

Holy moly, thanks darling!! I am having a Pretty Good Day™ honetly!! Hope your is/was amazing!!

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

So the biggest thing I've got is my Larry RB right now. Progress has been... up and down honestly! My wonderful artist gave a very detailed prompt and that's been lovely because it means I've really got the whole thing scripted out (which is not my usual way of writing so it's been fun!). Covid kinda derailed me - the brain fog is REAL. But I think that's lifting so, like, Sunday? I wrote like 5400 words. And it's coming together!

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

“I’ve never been so scared, or so sure that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing."

This is a moment from Louis' toast for his sister's wedding (this is VERY MUCH an AU) - I wanted to capture that kind of awe-inspiring moment as a parent where it's terrifying, but also, you're right where you need to be. I'm not sure this one sentence does it, but hopefully the whole speech does. :-D

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Ohhh. When I'm in the groove, I really enjoy all of them, honestly. I really have a lot of fun writing drunk Harry Potter though. For example:

“Where we going now?” Harry inquires amiably as Malfoy leads him down the sidewalk, behind a group of girls in short skirts. “Gonna dance some more?”

“I’m getting you home,” Malfoy says, and Harry smiles at him.

It occurs to Harry that Malfoy is really very pretty.

“You want me to blow you?” he asks cheerfully and Harry hears Malfoy choke and sees a couple of heads in the group in front of them turn quickly. “‘Member? I’m pretty good at it.’”

“Potter,” Malfoy hisses. “If you don’t want to be outed on the front page of Sunday’s Prophet, I suggest you shut your mouth, now.”

Harry snickers. “That’d be funny though, right? The boy who lived… to give great head. That’s a legacy I can be proud of.” He stumbles a bit over the words but thinks he manages to convey his point.

Malfoy somehow snickers and sounds annoyed at the same time, it’s impressive. “Seriously, Potter. Shut up.”

“You could shut me up,” Harry says happily, and Malfoy groans.

(From Green-Eyed Epiphany)

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

I am both (BISEXUAL PRIVILEGE). No for real. I mean, my version of a drabble is the 1500-5000 thing - those are usually vignettes or single-scene things that just flow for me. I have done some longer things too. I mean, what counts a long fic? I've got 5 50K+ fic. I don't think I could ever write a SUPER longfic (like, let's say, 70K+) - I don't have that in me. I've been having a BLAST with shorter things. My problem is that my more complex ideas need to be longer but sometimes braining is hard.

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

OH MY GOD. Titles are the WORST. It's never the first thing I come up with. I usually try to have a title by the time the first draft is done? I am 100% a song-lyric title kinda pal and I'm not sorry about that. But yeah. titles are so hard. I have to say, my Larry BB this year, Unveiled, that title is one I'm super proud of. It's not a fic that got much traction but I'm really proud of it in general.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

You know what? Some of them, I totally do. There are some fic I am so, so proud of - generally longer ones, because those are the ones that are really such a part of me, and I do re-read them, because I tend to write stories I'd like to read. It's so good to get some distance so I can even enjoy them.

(We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home (Drarry)

Feels Like Coming Home

These are two I really, really love. There's a LOT of me, my life, my experiences, my philosophy - in these and they mean a lot to me, and if anyone wanted to read them, I'd be so so honored.

xox

Fun meta asks for writers

[gallickingun]

I hope you don't mind me asking... How did you get followers? I want to start my own blog but I want to make sure I can reach audiences I want to reach. I don't have any friends who know I write, and honestly I'm not sure I'd want them to read my works anyway. I get embarrassed easily. It's much easier for me to talk to someone that I don't have a face for. Does that make sense? Probably not. But how did you start your adventure here?

I want to preface this with follower count can make sense, or it can’t. I’ve made friends with some of the most amazing, most talented writers who have less than a thousand followers. I’ve made friends with amazing, talented writers who have thousands of followers. I genuinely don’t know how to trick the algorithm into listening to you, haha, but just know that numbers don’t equal talent; popularity does not always equal skill. So please, even if you don’t have the high follower count of someone else, don’t let it discourage you from writing! Everyone starts somewhere, and everyone grows differently. 

But, I’ve found that it all depends on who you write for, what you write, and how often you write. 

Who you write for: Bakugou is one of the most popular characters. I truly didn’t know this when I entered the fandom, but it was really what got me started on the upward climb. I’m by no means a big blogger, lol, but I know that writing for Bakugou was what helped me out initially. He was originally the only character who I could write for because he was my favorite and I hadn’t really gotten too far into the show. I think the same goes for other fandoms - if you write for the more popular characters, who have more content in demand because they have more fans, you’re more likely to gain more followers. 

DISCLAIMER: Do not let this keep you from writing for other characters who are less popular, if you prefer to write for them. Content is needed for all characters! I am desperate for some Sugawara content, but he’s not one of the more popular characters that people write for (see: Kuroo, Ushiwaka, Bokuto, Oikawa, Iwa, and Akaashi). If we only focus on the popular characters, the ones that get us the most growth, but those aren’t the characters we love, the content can seem disingenuous, if that makes sense. I got lucky by Bakugou being my favorite. But like, when I try to push out Kaminari content, I find that it’s a real struggle for me because I don’t necessarily vibe with Kaminari as a character. The same goes in reverse. If the minor characters have your heart, but you try to force out content for the popular characters, it can be tough to write and come across like you don’t really want to write it. Write who you want to write! 

What you write: This is a really big deal right now, but I’m just gonna say it lol. NSFW gets more notes. I don’t say that to force you into writing NSFW content - I actually had never read/written NSFW content until this past March, and I’m 22, going on 23. Originally, when I decided to start writing, I wanted to be NSFW-free, but some stuff changed in life and in writing and I chose to make the change.

Also, I’ve found for each fandom, different things are more prevalent. For instance, the BNHA fandom seems to do a lot of AU’s and full length fics, but the Haikyuu!! fandom seems to do more traditional works that follow canon and then the content itself is mostly headcanons and short scenarios. I think you have to find what works for you and write it to the best of your ability. I suck at headcanons, I’ve never really been able to do them and they stress me out. So I stick to full length fics. I know this means I’ll do better in one fandom versus the other, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start only doing headcanons just because it’s what’s popular. 

DISCLAIMER: This does NOT mean that just because someone wrote 10k words of smut, that it’s better or more involved than your 10k words of fluff/angst/domestic/etc. writing. Unfortunately, there are horn dogs out there who are especially touch starved during quarantine. It doesn’t make anyone better or worse because they choose to write about being naked versus being clothed. Please don’t let this discourage you from writing SFW-only writing, as there are tons of people out there who are just as desperate for some comfort fics about cuddling completely clothed. 

How often you write: When I first started, I had a lot more time on my hands and was able to pump out content much quicker. I grew pretty rapidly in a short period of time because I was able to consistently put out content. Since I’ve gotten more busy and my mental illness has reared it’s ugly head, I’ve not been able to write as much and I can tell my follower count growth had tapered off. But the pace in which you post content generally helps increase your follower count, because people know that you will continuously feed them with the goods! Sometimes it might be good to set a schedule so others know when you’ll be posting - say a new fic every Friday? Or sometimes it can be good to keep your followers engaged with thirst posts (SFW or NSFW), or specific nights where you do events that focus on a certain character or genre. 

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT FORCE YOURSELF TO PUSH OUT CONTENT. Please be aware within your own self what your limits are. Just because one writer can sit at home and push out tons of short scenarios and drabbles during the day, but you can’t, doesn’t mean either of you are doing anything wrong. It just means that one person has a different availability than you. I don’t really do thirst posts a ton in the same respect that others do them, because I know that I’ll want to write a whole fic out of the couple of sentences that my followers might send in. However, there are many others within the fandom that can respond with a few paragraphs that take a few minutes to type out. It doesn’t mean that they’re better than me and I’m a horrible writer, it just means that in this area, they’re more skilled or have more time. 

Also, don’t be afraid to tag people and send out DMs! I promise your writer idols are not nearly as scary as you think they are. And they’re probably just as excited to get a DM from you as you are to talk to them! I was really hesitant to reach out to anyone before, because I never really did much chatting in other fandoms, but the anime fandoms I’ve been apart of have been very kind and welcoming, and helpful! I made some of my closest friends because I tagged them in my works or I joined a server with them in it, or I read their stuff and reached out to them to fangirl over it. Don’t be afraid to reach out, even if you just keep the conversation focused on your writing, it’ll still be worth it in the end! The worst thing that could happen is they don’t reply or the conversation fizzles out. Either way, you will have made a connection, and blasted one another with some serotonin.

Remember to take breaks. Take a hiatus every once and a while! Take some time for yourself to recharge. If this begins to feel like a job, like an obligation, and you feel yourself dragging your feet just to put out content, please step back and reevaluate. This is a hobby, it’s supposed to be fun. Once it stops being fun, take a breather and reassess what you’re doing. Sometimes this means closing requests, sometimes this means opening requests, sometimes this means participating in collab fics, sometimes this means disconnecting entirely. This is just tumblr, in the end, and you should be able to take care of yourself first rather than pinning yourself into a corner to try and post content for the sake of your followers. In the end, everyone wants you to be happy and healthy, so you can put your best foot forward in life and in your hobbies. So please, for the love of everything, take a break every now and then. Disconnect, recharge, and regroup. 

I also had a blog before this one, my main, so I’ve been on tumblr for eight year prior to this. I’m not going to even claim that I begin to understand how this hellsite works, but I will say that I’ve been writing on here for a while now, since way back to my band blog days. Eventually you just write what you want to write, and chat with your followers and your friends, and you’ll grow organically. When you start to pressure yourself over it, it can become like a cloud looming over you, and then when you don’t perform up to your preset standards, it might be a little disappointing. Follower milestones are cool to want to achieve and celebrate, but don’t pour all your focus into them. For the most part, I use milestones for celebration events to give back to my followers, or to set goals for myself like opening commissions! But they don’t determine my worth as a writer, because sometimes the tumblr algorithm is more giving to some rather than others.

Whew, this was a doozy. But I hope it helped! Some of these answers might come off a little crass, but I’m just trying to be honest. Don’t let anything deter you from doing whatever the hell you wanna do.

You wanna write that rarepair? DO IT. You wanna write character x character? DO IT. You wanna write about your Original Characters? DO IT. 

Whatever it is you want to do, do it! And have a helluva time doing it 💕

[ask-the-wordsmith]

On Ending Fanfic/Short Stories

Ending a personal project can be pretty hard. Shows, I think, are the hardest to end, because there’s so much material that need to be wrapped up in a satisfying manner. But luckily, ending a fanfiction (or short story, for that matter) doesn’t necessarily have to be the same frustrating ordeal. After years of writing fanfic, I’ve found a few types of endings that work pretty well universally— “stock” endings, if you will, like molds that you can melt different metals into over and over again.

So without any further ado, here are Five Ways To End Your Fanfic (#3 and #5 will not shock you at all! You’ve almost definitely heard of them!)

#1: Dialogue.

Somehow, I feel like most people forget that this is okay. If you happen to have a great line said by one of your MCs, why not end on it? You don’t necessarily need your omniscient narrator to comment on the situation. I find this particularly helpful when you know you’ve reached the end of your story, but feel stuck in the middle of a conversation and don’t know how to wrap it up. Reread every line of dialogue in that last conversation, and see if there isn’t a good place to cut it off.

Sample ending (from Car Crash, a hurt/comfort oneshot):

“And you’re the best minion, Bear Trap,” he said softly back.

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel her smile against his chest. “You say that to all your minions.”

Giovanni rocked her gently, more as a motion of comfort for himself than for her. “Yeah, I know.” Then he pulled slightly back and shot her a teasing smile.

“But with you, I mean it.”

#2: Beginning/End Parallels

This is actually how you’re supposed to end a show or movie, just in miniature. Because of that, it works best for long fanfics, particularly multi-chapters. First, read the intro paragraphs to your story— if you’ve written a good beginning, the material you’re looking for will be in the first paragraph, preferably the first SENTENCE— and pick out the “defining snapshot.” What does your MC’s life look like in that moment? Whether intentionally or not, if your fanfic at all resembles a movie or show (again, usually those of considerable length), your ending snapshot should be the opposite of that.

If you really know your stuff, you can even take the first sentence word-for-word and then turn it on it’s head to make the last sentence! That one will emotionally destroy all your long-time readers, guaranteed.

Sample ending (from SDLPC, a 32-chapter “slice of afterlife”):

(First line:) It seems like I never had company when I was alive. [...] In short, I was used to being alone.

(Last line:) I had all the company I could wish for. And the rest of eternity was only beginning.

#3: Using The Same Sentence To Start And End Your Fic (TM)

You know this one. What you probably didn’t realize is that it’s just option #2, but the opposite! This is because for shorter works like oneshots, what you’re usually doing is capturing just a snapshot of the characters’ lives. You don’t have an “opening/ending snapshot” because your fic IS the snapshot. If you can use the same exact sentence word-for-word, that’s great; otherwise, a tweaked version will work just as well. This ending is ideal for either pure fluff or pure angst!

Sample ending (from Peace and Quiet, a fluff oneshot):

(First line:) The silence for the past half-hour had only been broken by the snap-crackle-pop of the fire and the occasional swiff of smooth paper being turned.

(Last line:) Until Thomas called everyone in for dinner, the silence was only broken by the snap-crackle-pop of the fire and the occasional swiff of smooth paper being turned.

#4: MC’s Observations

This one’s a bit tricker to do right, I think. But sometimes, particularly in poetic/atmospheric drabbles, I resort to ending my fic by stating the MC’s thoughts on the current situation, be they good or bad. However, the technique works for regular prose, too, as in the example I’ll show!

Sample ending (from To Build A Home, a 6k adoption fic):

She noted, vaguely, that Percy smelled really nice, in a way very different from her mom. She also had a sudden memory of how her mom used to card her hands through her hair when they slept together. It always soothed her right to sleep.

But Percy’s hands lay gentle on her back, almost as if they were holding something fragile of great worth, and that felt nice, too, in a different way.

And it was such that these were the last things Molly was cognizant of before drifting off into a (finally peaceful) sleep.

#5: Including The Title Of Your Fic (TM)

You also already know this one. The classic using-the-title-of-your-fic in the last sentence, which if I’m not mistaken has a reputation for being either REALLY GOOD or REALLY BAD. I personally think it can be mediocre, even as in my own example. Still, if you’ve got a particularly witty or memorable title, it’ll ensure people remember it (which is helpful if they’re talking about it to their friends and don’t have to go “oh, I read this one great fic but don’t remember what it was called...”)!

Sample ending (from Cure for the Common Heartache):

Then again, in Jikochuu standards, who but a sibling would be dumb enough to freely share a recipe of the cure for the common heartache?

———

...And that’s it! Five molds that tend to make for pretty good endings. These are by no means the ONLY ways to end a fic, but I hope they can come in handy if you’re at a loss for a satisfying conclusion!

[darkwingsnark]

FIC WRITER MEME

Tagged by @prince-luffy

AO3 name: DarkwingSnark

Fandoms: ...SEE, I’m in lots of fandoms. Or at least, I’ve written for them during hyper-fixation periods. Let’s see what AO3 says...

Batman: The Animated Series (20)

Batman - All Media Types (7)

Wander Over Yonder (Cartoon) (6)

DuckTales (Cartoon 1987) (5)

Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero (5)

Penguins of Madagascar (3)

James and the Giant Peach - Roald Dahl (3)

Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991) (3)

Disney - All Media Types (3)

Dan Vs. (2)

Milo Murphy's Law (2)

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja (1)

The Batman (Cartoon) (1)

Lady and the Tramp (1955) (1)

Looney Tunes | Merrie Melodies (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh - All Media Types (1)

Alice in Wonderland (1951) (1)

Gummi Bears (TV) (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh (Disney) (1)

.... Honestly, I feel like there’s more that this list isn’t covering. Like Phineas and Ferb isn’t here and I wrote for that show too. And many of these can be simplified and condensed because they belong to similar fics.

Tropes: Depends on the fic. But as a whole, tend to write Romantic Comedies with a lot of slow burn. Mostly because... struggle is funny. People being dumdums and oblivious to the obvious is funny. Aaaaand also because it allows the episodic quality of shenanigans to occur.

Number of fics: Up and posted on AO3? 53. Does not include stuff on FF.net or that’s sitting in google docs begging to be finished.

Fic I spent the most time on: Not sure how to read this. Does it mean active man hours? Or does stuff like having a hiatus in-between count? Because TECHNICALLY ‘Real Value’ was started in high school, and I didn’t rewrite it and carry on the series (with Moonie) until many years later. There are also fics like ‘Growing Love’ or ‘Priorities’ that took a lot of time to do research. Like learning how to build a lawn mower so I could have a character believably break it apart for repairs.

....God I do a lot of research that doesn’t go into the actual fics. Because all I need, really, in the confidence of what I’m doing to be the character and describe an action here or there. 

Fic I spent the least time on: Probably something drabble related? Or maybe the fic I did that was just me venting out emotions because I was feeling guilty? ‘A Mother’s Intuition’ was written and posted within a couple of hours.

Longest fic: Complicated. The longest thing written is technically an RP, NOT a story. (Different, trust me.) ‘What Happens in Gotham’ has a word count of  207,413. But fic wise at 89,022 word would be ‘The Constant Gardener’ . 

Runner up being ‘Priorities’ at little over 87k.

Shortest fic: Drabbles? Uh, let’s see.. Probably from ‘Beauty and Your Worth’, as i think one was literally a paragraph long. ... Speaking of Gummi Bears, I wonder if I still have my notes on the GruffiGusto fic I wanted to write. Something to look into.

Most hits: Apparently ‘Fallen Hard’ at  5354

Most kudos: Also ‘Fallen Hard’ at 518. There... were more fans of Milo Murphy’s Law than I realised. 

Most comment threads: ‘Fallen Hard’, 193 comments. ‘What Happens in Gotham’ following at 185.

Most bookmarks: .... that’s something people care about? I hardly ever bookmark things, since I read it in one go. But... I can look?

Ah.... ‘Fallen Hard’. 63

Total word count: 971,833 Oh hey! Almost a million. That’s something to celebrate.

Favorite fic I wrote: 'Knights of Dobenshire’. Hands down. (With ‘Heart of the Cards’ being very close.) I like writing road trip styled stories. It allows many things to happen within the narrative. BUT, ‘Knights of Dobenshire’ wins because it was such a satisfying conclusion of this build up, you know? Scrooge is finally no longer just putting up with the relationship with Fenton, but fully embracing it. That surprise feeling that hits him when he realizes, dear lord, he IS attracted to Fenton beyond affection. 

It hits me more than a mutual pining because there I KNOW they will get together. But here? While writing with Moonie? I DIDN’T KNOW! I was worried in the end we’d have to write another fic to finally reach that step. Scrooge is stubborn and does what he wants, let me tell ya.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 'Fallen Hard’, ‘Season of Miracles’, ‘Going with the Flow’, pretty much anything that isn’t complete. BUT, not posted, I really want to get back to more of the stories planned in the McCrack series. It was a ship I kinda made from the ground up, with nobody caring about it in the beginning. So it feels very important to see that series through.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

... Actually, I can share something from 'Donald’s Party (Working Title)’. @swampy-tiefling and I started. Just the first scene to get you guys hooked.

Donald took a deep breath of air from the doorway of the house and sighed, once again pleased to find himself at his home away from home. Traveling the seas and exploring the world with the navy were its own rewards, he supposed, but there would never be anything quite like the countryside-- the middle aged mallard having practically been raised on Grandma Duck’s farm. Donald Duck was happy to be on shore-- his naval carrier being docked for the week in Duckburg as they replenished supplies and took care of whatever repairs that were needed. Whatever excuse his bosses wanted to use were fine by him, he was just happy to not be scrubbing decks for a change!

That didn’t, however, mean he was able to rest and relax-- as the duck was startled out of his thoughts as somebody bumped into him. That somebody was his grandmother as she came to, just having caught her plate of cookies before they fell.

“My land, Donald! What in the world are you doing hiding here when you should be meetin’ and greetin’ the guests?”

Donald ignored the woman’s soft glare as he waved her off, using his other hand to steal a cookie in the process. Stuffing it in his mouth, he murmured out a response.

“Phooey, they’re just relatives.”

“Even more of a reason to go out and talk to them.” Before the sailor could argue, Grandma Duck placed the plate of treats into his hands. “And put these out on the snack table while you’re at it. Poor Fethry is looking peckish.”

Donald rolled his eyes, but otherwise did as he was told. Wasn’t it just like life to make him work at his own welcome home party? Walking towards the open yard where the party was taking place, it didn’t take long to reach the table, where his cousins were already gathered around as they chat.

This instantly caught the attention of the lankier duck, his gaze zoning in as he smiled widely towards Donald in greeting.

“Well if it ain’t the guest of honor, with snacks to boot!” Fethry leaned closer, his red hat wobbling with him as he continued to inquire. “Say, cuz, ya wouldn’t happen to know if these are gluten free, would ya?”

Donald gave him an unimpressed look. 

“You’re not going on another crazy diet, are ya?” Though, in all honesty, he was more worried his looney cousin might try to drag him along-- and after months of eating nothing but mush, he would NOT miss out on his first chance to pig out on actual home cooked meals.

"Not crazy at all, actually!" Fethry grinned that goofy grin. "See, it's all right here; Gluten Free; It's the Way to Be' !" he shoved a rather lengthy-looking hard cover book in Donald's face. Donald had no choice but to stare at it, the words all blurring together from its close proximity to his eyes. The offending object remained there for only a second, however, before it was yanked back, the nutty mallard already busy flipping through it.

"Let's see, here, there's a fascinating chapter I think you should-- Don?"

Phew, that had been close. Donald was still in sneaking away mode, and jumped and yelped when he was tapped on the shoulder. Oh no. He'd been caught, after all. He slowly turned, with a forced, toothy grin, to face his fate.

A wave of relief washed over him when he saw his girlfriend, Daisy, smiling sweetly at him, instead.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Mister? You’ve been gone for so long, and here we are, with you haven’t even given me a kiss ‘hello’ yet.” 

Now there was something Donald didn’t mind doing, as his girlfriend leaned in her face for her reward. Wrapping his arms around her, he planted the biggest of smooches to her temple. 

“Gaww, I’m sorry Daisy. I really did miss you.”

This earned him a soft smile, as it was Daisy’s turn to kiss him on the forehead.

“And I missed you, hun. Now, tell me… why WERE you sneaking around?”

“Grandma put me on entertainment duty.”

“Well, “ his girlfriend began, “it IS your party, after all. They came to see you, seems fair to me.” This made the sailor groan as she looked at him unsympathetically. Rolling her eyes, the reporter sarcastically patted her boyfriend in comfort. “There there. Now don’t go sneaking off for real, the boys will be arriving soon. And Grandma tells me Uncle Scrooge will be bringing along a special guest.”

“Special guest?” Donald asked incredulously. “Like who?” This caused Daisy’s eyes to glimmer all the more in mischief, a look that told him that she knew something he didn’t know. And that something was big news, if he was reading her right.

“Oh, nobody TOO special, I suppose,” Daisy was stalling, and it was driving Donald up the wall. The duck woman continued her teasing. “Nobody except your uncle’s new date friend.”

"Date friend?" Donald practically exclaimed, prompting Daisy's grin to grow all the more smug.

"Yep! You've missed quite a bit since you've been away, you know."

"No kidding...well I'll be..." Donald was shaking his head, but he was smiling. Uncle Scrooge, dating, at his age... it was nothing short of a miracle. It was about time, too!

"Meanwhile, why don't you go say hi to the rest of the guests? I know it's hard..." she rolled her eyes. "but at least make an effort, okay? Thanks, hun!"

Donald's heart fluttered as she smooched his cheek, and left. He glanced out over the yard, and saw quite a few familiar faces; Gus, Ludwig, Gladstone... heck, even Gyro Gearloose had shown up!

He sighed, but this one wasn't a sigh of pure despair. It did feel nice to be home, surrounded by people who most likely cared, and his nephews were even going to show up soon. Not to mention, he'd get to tease his uncle for finally taking his advice on the whole dating thing. 

That alone gave Donald the pep in his step he needed as he threw himself back into the party-- where he knew his crazed family would be waiting for him. 

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Four

“I’ve never really cared for books with covers.”

Beneath his questing hands, Thomas hears a brief rush of exhaled breath from James’ nose that might be laughter. But he’s not going to let his lovely little cynic ruin his monologue here. Thomas has a point to be made, and he’s not going to be deterred until he makes it. 

Not that he thinks James minds all that much anyway, seeing as he was comfortable in Thomas’ leather recliner, shoes off and socked toes warming in front of a fire that was perfectly stoked, if Thomas did say so himself. 

“As I was saying…” Thomas feels the ridge of a knot of muscle just beneath his thumb, and he digs into it with gusto, feeling the wince beneath his palms. True release took a little pain, James. “Books with covers are so boring. You can see what’s going to happen, right there on the cover.

Say the book has a castle on the cover, and a knight below him with his sword drawn. Easy. You know that the story is going to be about a man overcoming hardships to win the day. Your book has a fine, upstanding woman with her bodice ripped, staring into the eyes of a savage muscle man with flowing locks?”

Thomas huffs. “I won’t even waste my breath telling you how trite and easy to read those books are. Even more recent books fall to the same thing. A massive house against the backdrop of the night sky? Haunted house. Ghosts either of the supernatural or the completely natural. A fancy typesetting and curling letters spelling out a long and complicated name?” Those were a dime a dozen these days. “A coming of age story about a young woman who’s supposed to be just like everyone else, but somehow she’s completely different than all of them, and special.”

Now, Thomas had no trouble with any kind of those stories. People in cold marriages needed to find love and warmth wherever they could. He wouldn’t begrudge him that. The same with haunted house ghost stories and young women who wanted to believe they were special when everything spoke to the contrary. 

“All of that, just from the cover. What’s the point of even reading through these books, if you know how they’re going to end?” Thomas would admit he’s never really been the type to read for pleasure. He enjoyed music more than he ever would sitting down with a book. There was a magic in music he could never find in words. But he still knew the value of a good book, no matter the genre it resided in. 

“But when you go into the bookstore and all you can see is plain cardstock? Now that’s the kind of mystery that I love. Especially when the title is short. Atlas Shrugged. How on Earth would I know what that was about, just from the words stamped onto the spine? Or The Grapes of Wrath. Jude the Obscure. Obscure isn’t the right word for it, my friend. The right word is mystery and I love a good mystery.”

Case in point, the one turning to goo beneath his very fingers at this moment. It had taken weeks of flirting to even get James to start opening up to him, his very own closed book. But Thomas had been intrigued from the second he saw the words stamped onto James’ spine and it had become his mission to read every page of the man’s book. 

Even now, when one cup of tea at Magnus’ place had turned into a lunch date at Diego’s, to a dinner date at Maria’s and now, a third date here in the house that Thomas was renting for his “vacation” (could you really call it a vacation when it had been going on for months now? Maybe he should start calling it his extended leave.) there was still so much about James that he didn’t know. 

It felt like being in the first chapter still, but hooked on every paragraph and every turning of the page. James Madison was a book that Thomas wasn’t ready to put down. 

“The world is so much more fun when you don’t know what’s going to happen in it.” Thomas knew from the huff of breath on the other side of the chair that James didn’t agree. But James was a polite man. A smart one too, who didn’t want his shoulder rub to come to a premature end by having a differing opinion. “You don’t think so?”

“I prefer structure, and order. I like knowing when and where things are going to happen, and why.” James had skin like the best dark chocolate, and a voice like a gravel road. The perfect mixture of haute couture and savage realism. 

Thomas might be in a little bit deeper than he wants to think about right now. 

“I understand that. Provisionally, of course. I wouldn’t want to live my life like that, personally. But I see how a person could find comfort in having their whole life laid out in front of them.” That had been Thomas’ life. He was meant to follow in his father’s footsteps, practically from the moment he was born. Go to school, excel, get his degree. Practice law. 

Thomas did all of that. And he did it well. He was damn good at his job, and there were political aspirations on the horizon that were fifty percent his own, and fifty percent his family’s. Thomas had known from kindergarten just where his life was going. The tracks were already set, all he could do was keep trundling down them. 

But this trip, this brief foray into the unknown had been bracing, in the best kind of way. A cold shower of the soul, as it were. An outsider’s perspective was always useful when it came to making the right choice. 

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the outsider in question was built like a brick shit house, to use his grandmama’s words, the very same ones she would have washed his mouth out for even thinking if she was still alive, God rest her soul. 

It was more than that he knew, if Thomas felt the urge to navel gaze and really look deep. James was handsome, and Thomas was going to read that book inside and out before it was all done, and leave his mark on the page. But beyond the physical, he found himself insatiably curious about the mental. The emotional. 

James Madison was a good looking puzzle. He just so happened to be the kind of man that Thomas was thinking he might want to spend some serious time with.

“What about a fork in the road? Say you’re sailing through your life. Everything is going good. And this upcoming thing isn’t an obstacle. It’s just a fork in the road. Two different paths. One isn’t better than the other. They’re just damn different. How do you decide which path you go down?”

There’s a warm, rumbling hum from deep in James’ chest, and Thomas’ fondness grows exponentially. James was the kind of man who thought through everything he said. Even the most trivial things were given heavy thought, and Thomas adored it. There was no rushing perfection, and there was no rushing James. 

“I’d have to go with my heart.”

James was also a man of few words. But those words always carried weight with them and seemed to sink in beneath Thomas’ skin. It was a good call, and one he was sure would sound trite or stupid from someone else’s lips. Follow your heart. What a novel concept. 

Thomas was going to keep that in mind when he got to his fork in the road. But for the moment, he had a little more time on this straight and narrow. Which meant he could take his kneading cat fingers and “accidentally” slip them beneath the collar of James’ shirt to feel the warmth of his skin and the strong cord of muscle beneath it. 

He was going to be a goddamn delight in the bedroom, and Thomas was eager to see this through to that point. There was an honesty in intimacy that you couldn’t fake. Even with a one night stand, you had to hand over some part of yourself, if only for a little while. 

There’s a soft intake of breath, and Thomas wonders what his mother would think about him taking all his cues from something so simple as breath. She’d either be impressed he could shut up long enough to listen, or rolling her eyes at him. 

“Clumsy me.” There’s something cat-like and pleased in Thomas’ tone when he speaks. Tonight might not be the night they make it upstairs. But a little skin against skin in the library was going to be more than enough to whet his appetite. 

For tonight, at least. 

One thing James had to learn was a universal truth that everyone who met Thomas had to learn. 

He was insatiable. Whether it be his appetite for life, for the finer things or even for the baser pleasures that came between the sheets after an evening of verbal fencing, there was nothing that Thomas wouldn’t go back for seconds for. Life was just too good to settle for anything less than the best.

Slowly, terribly slowly, Thomas starts to pull his hand away. And for one long second, he feels that pang of disappointment that he’s going to have to. But then James lays a hand over the top of his, smoothing out his knuckles until Thomas’ palm is flush with his shoulder. 

The touch sends a jolt right through him. What a silly life he was leading, where the touch of a man’s hand on his was enough to set his blood aflame. “You know…” He draws the words out, molasses slow and sweet on his tongue. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have to work under the seams of your shirt.”

It’s a silly little ploy, the kind of thing you threw out there just to get a laugh or a reaction. The last thing Thomas expects is the good Lord blessing him with the sight of James standing and unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, one pearl button at a time. 

Inch by glorious inch, it reveals dark skin that all but glows in the firelight, and a soft cotton undershirt beneath. Thomas can’t remember the last time he had a drink of water, because his mouth is feeling like the Sahara. Parched. 

But for all the strong swell of muscle and the gentle taper of James’ hips, the thing that draws Thomas in the most is the light in his eyes. Bright. Playful. James was absolutely aware of what he was doing to Thomas, and that only made it better. 

Checkers was fun, but there was no holding a candle to a good game of chess. 

Thomas doesn’t look away from his lovely view as he reaches behind him to turn the dial and kill the gas to the wood burning fireplace. His drink had long been forgotten on the table next to James’ hand, the cut crystal whiskey glass cool to the touch, despite the growing warmth in the room. The whiskey stone at least kept the glass from sweating. Thomas hated to think what they would charge him for leaving rings on the table.

The sudden change of lighting cast the room in a different kind of darkness, a cooler kind of darkness that was washed out with the golden light of the streetlights being filtered in behind the linen curtains hanging over the windows. 

In the low light, the tail lights of a passing car catches against James’ belt buckle in a flash of red light. Thomas was not in any mood to be stopping for red lights right now. So he throws caution to the wind.

“How about we take this upstairs, lamb? I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

[adozentothedawn]

2, 4, 10, 16 and 23 for the Writer Meta Asks, please!

Sure!^^ Thanks for asking! Questions here for anyone else.

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.

There is a scene in Reperire Regem in the third chapter that I’m currently working on in which Waidwen gets to test out this whole divine avatar thing and what he can actually do which I am kind of excited for, but first I have to get through a rather long expositional scene which means I’m staring at the page more than working on it.^^°

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like).

I like quite a lot I did in “from the ashes of the dawn”. Though apparently not many people like hurting Eothas like I do, if the 11 hits in a month are any indication. xD

Now that he was again, now that he knew again, he remembered that moment. He remembered feeling the energy crash into and through them, remembered his own panic and the realization that he had miscalculated. And most of all, he remembered being too slow. He could feel himself reaching out, grabbing onto Waidwen’s soul as tightly as he could, even as the blast tore him away. He hadn’t let go, never that, but the blast had ripped him apart, cleaving whole chunks of essence out of him and shattering their connection. There had only been a second for his helplessness and both their terror to sink in, until the fires had burnt away all consciousness.

I really believe that even if Eothas was prepared to sacrifice Waidwen for his goal, I don’t think he really understood what was going to happen. Being killed, sure, solvable issue for him, but I don’t think he would’ve let Waidwen be torn apart and thrown into Rymrgand’s realm if he could’ve stopped it. I also just like this idea that Eothas didn’t even really know what happened since that part of him that remained with Waidwen was just hacked off of him.

This wasn’t Waidwen. He knew that. Was painfully aware of that. Maerwald wasn’t even all that similar to him, but it was enough to make the pain he had carefully packed away rear its ugly head again, ripping into wounds that had only just begun to heal. He didn’t reach out again.

Trauma! Also I really like the idea that Mearwald knew something was there under Caed Nua but never figured out what. He just thought it was a particularily strong soul that got stuck down there.

Even without Maerwald he could see now, was forced to observe the tragedies in Woedica’s name. He was certain his sister didn’t know of his survival, but still it felt like her personal punishment for him, for his hubris of attempting to change.

I like the word hubris. It also feels really poetic.

It burnt in the back of Eothas’ mind, like so many things did these days, but when Maerwald’s ravings became too much, when his body needed rest all too badly and his soul wouldn’t give him the peace, Eothas helped him, gently pushed his soul with all its splinters down into sleep, like he’d done so many times before for Waidwen.

No sleep for the Watcher. Well maybe a little bit.

And now I’ll stop, or I’ll just post the whole thing again. (I think Eothas has a bit of an issue with self-flagellation.)

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Very chaotic. At this point I learnt that it’s smart to at least write down the general premise. Every time I think up something more, I write it down in short words to not forget it, which leads to my word documents looking like a battlefield. It’s interesting though to see where I actually end up then, because its rarely exactly what I was planning.

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

Thanks to that microstory prompt list I tried out second person, which I’m using now for that ChoiceScript game I working on. I also have a half finished Fe3h drabble with baby Claude that I should finish...

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Well, the absolute longest time something has been in my head is about... 8 years. That’s the sequel for my very first fanfic, that I wrote at a time when I didn’t even know what a fanfic is. No idea if I’ll ever write it. The thing I have legitimately planned the longest and actually plan to write is a fanfic calles “To Be A God” (as of now) and is about the idea that there were people used as templates for the gods of Eora basically. Simpler said, the gods were people at some point. Each chapter is supposed to be about one god and who they were before. A few I have actually planned a little a already, but I’d be happy about any ideas you have.^^

[taeguboi]

“Would You Rather...?” Drabble 06 - Reader x Yoongi [Suga] (Angst / Smut)

Would you rather fight with Yoongi a lot only to have the greatest makeup sex or have sweet sensual sex with Jungkook only once a week (or less) cuz he’s so busy?

This is a lot angstier than a situation I’d actually choose and is faster paced than what I usually write since I tried my hardest to make it a short piece [it’s still like 2.5k words though lmao] so I’m sorry if it loses the vibe because in one paragraph something’s just starting and in the next it’s already done hahhahaha

My new fic masterlist is here (I will no longer be updating the old one)

One last note: I remembered the ‘keep reading’ link this time to not take up your feeds - sorry for before

Send me BTS “Would You Rather…?” questions in my ask box for a drabble

*******

“Say You Love Me”

An aura of suspense filled the room as you were alone with your ex boyfriend for the first time since you two had broken up. It was so bitter towards the end when the two of you were slamming doors and raising voices. It was only a few weeks ago since the two of you mutually decided to break things off in the midst of both your frustrations and anger towards each other.

But now he is standing here in front of you, it feels just like yesterday. Any hint of progress you made in moving on, vanished. Any rational thoughts about what went wrong, faded. Any moments you were convinced you don’t need him, forgotten about.

You only came back to the old house this evening to collect a few things after realising you left a few important documents here. It was just your luck that at the exact same time you had decided to make a visit, so had he. Who is he? Yoongi Min.

“What are you doing here?” you huffed at the sight of him entering the poorly lit living room just moments ago. It seems the electric had been cut off already probably from not paying the bill. 

“Hello to you too” Yoongi had retorted.

“Look I’m just here to get a few papers and then I’m outta here so I’d appreciate it if you could just give me my space” you instructed, fumbling about in drawers for what you needed.

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” he sighed and although you weren’t looking at him at that time, you could actually hear him folding his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind. What’s the point? We’ve been here already” he grunted.

“You’re right, I think I do know what you mean” 

“Yeah, but did you really y/n?” he questioned, voice raising. “Because from what I could tell, I was about to give you my fucking everything and you threw it all back in my face because, and I quote ‘too intense’!”

Things had escalated super fast as he was full on yelling at you once again, just like in the argument that broke you two up.

“Well excuse me for wanting some me time!” you protested, finally finding the sheets of paper you were looking for. 

“You call that ‘me time’? Constantly pushing me away whenever I showed you any affection? Dismissing the things I would say about how much I loved you?” he blared in frustration before toning it down again. “You broke me y/n. What else was I supposed to think when all you did was…”

“And you should have trusted me!” you interrupted. 

“And I trusted you! I trusted you so fucking much! You pushed me to breaking point though!”

“Just because I didn’t want to spend everyday with you didn’t mean I stopped loving you” you muttered.

“Sorry, what was that?” Yoongi asked in shock. It made your heart sink too.

Love. It was a feeling you were too scared to ever admit. Your heart felt irreparable after the hurt a previous relationship brought you a long time ago. You were frightened when you realised you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Yoongi, but you went for it when he expressed that he wanted to be more than your friend. Yet you couldn’t ever find it in you to tell him you loved him. That you still do.

“I said…” you stammered, unable to repeat yourself.

“You used the word ‘love’” he said, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open in disbelief. “You never said that to me before”

Tears involuntarily escaped your eyes and you let out a sniffle. You put down the stupid papers and you could hear Yoongi take a step closer to you as you tried to dry your eyes, bringing you to this point right now.

“I really did love you Yoongs” you admit, the delayed expression of emotion pouring out. “I was scared, I…”

“...should have told me you were scared, y/n. We were supposed to be able to tell each other everything and anything”

“It’s not always that easy” you remind him.

“It’s not too late either” he adds on, watching you take a seat on the sofa, head in your hands.

He walks over to sit next to you, hand on your shoulder to comfort you. You look up at him, face to face for the first time in what feels like years. Perfectly perfect. His face so handsome and his heart so kind. You hate yourself for hiding from your feelings to the extent that you lost him.

You’re looking into each other’s eyes, reading everything both of you are unable to say. Hurt. Regret. But also love that hasn’t gone, not yet.

It’s almost uncontrollable, your urge to feel his lips pressed against yours once again and before you know it, your head is tilting slightly to one side.

Despite the circumstances, this is the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because of how much you missed Yoongi. You want more and it seems so does he as he kisses you back, leading to a string of passionate, heartfelt kisses.

It only feels natural that your hands begin to explore him, that you get to touch his body again, You stroke a hand down his chest and to his leg. Your hand rests on his leg as you continue with just kissing. You might have gone too far however when you allow for your hand to trail up a little and towards his crotch because he pulls away.

“Y/n I-I-I don’t want to take advantage. You’re vulnerable” he tells you, his breathing heavy from the intensity of the situation.

“I promise I’ll talk, for real… I will, I just… I need this” you tell him desperate for his touch, a sudden rush of lust and desire overcoming you. “I need you Yoongi”

“I need you to tell me you love me” he asks of you, longingly, his hand on your still teary cheek.

You kiss his lips again “I love you” you tell him, followed by a kiss on his cheek. “I love you so fucking much” you continue followed by a kiss on his neck which causes him to groan a little and stroke your hair and in return, you hand starts to stroke along his leg once more.

“I love you too, y/n” he pants with a gulp, adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“I missed you” you tear up looking back at his face and he cups yours. 

“Show me how much you missed me” he demands though his wishes are unclear.

“Anything” you reply.

“Let’s go upstairs” he smiles lovingly, standing up and bringing you up with him. He leads you upstairs and into the old bedroom you once shared.

Before you even reach the bed itself, you’re passionately making out, exploring each other’s bodies, lightly undressing each other as his jacket comes off and his shirt unbuttoned and you kick your shoes off.

“Tell me what you missed about me” he instructs as the two of you sit on the edge of the bed, continuing to make out.

“The way you make me feel” you pant, followed by a couple of kisses. “Your eyes, your smile” you continue to list, allowing Yoongi to kiss your neck, wet sounds resounding deliciously into your ear. “Your kind heart… I was so dumb”

He grabs one of your slightly shaky hands and you get to feel his semi-erect cock through his trousers. “How much did you miss this?” he asks menacingly, purring into your ear.

“So fucking much” you admit.

“I bet you missed this the most, didn’t you?” he challenges.

“No” is all you can utter, chest starting to heave as he places a hand on your trousers, teasing at you increasingly throbbing womanhood.

Yoongi eases you backward so that you’re laying on the bed underneath him as he goes on all fours at your side to hover above you.

“Did you… did you see anyone else while we were apart?” he asks.

“No one” you truthfully tell him. 

“Good” he smirks. “Promise me you’re mine” he requests.

“I’m all yours Yoongi” you tell him, providing him with the reassurance he clearly seeks.

Your trousers are tugged at and pulled off in an instant as he swiftly whips them off you to your surprise.

“And this pussy is all mine too then, yeah?”

“Always baby”

Yoongi pushes your pants to one side, desperate to devour you. “I love it when you call me that” he coos, tongue then teasing at your clit.

“Oh, Yoongi!” you exhale in delight even though he’s barely started.

Contrastingly to the kitten licks he just gave you, he presses his tongue flat against you. Sighs of pleasure escape your breath to which he hums contentedly which buzzes pleasurably on your sensitive area.

“So fucking good” you praise as he brings you close to climax.

“Oh, baby” he exclaims, voice vibrating at your clit once more. Yoongi always did love it when you said out loud how good he is in the bedroom. He loves to hear you say his name. He loves to know he’s doing a good job.

“I-I’m close” you moan as his tongue picks up speed with the circles he’s drawing.

At the very last moment, he adds in a finger which slides in with such ease because of your wetness for him. He increases it to two fingers after just a few thrusts and you see stars as he helps you reach orgasm.

“Yoongi! Fuck!” you exclaim at your very peak of pleasure.

“That’s right; say my name” he commands, riding out your high with just his fingers.

“Yoongi… I have to taste you” you state, arousal still high.

“Where did you wanna taste baby?” he teases, fully well knowing the answer to that question.

“Your trousers” you reply, sitting up. “Take them off”

He does exactly as he is told and gets off the bed to unzip and lose the trousers as you climb off the bed.

“Sit in that chair baby” you tell him. “Let me treat you now” you smirk as you watch him sit and then you fall to your knees met by the sight of the bulge that is aching to be freed from his boxers.

You don’t take the boxers off fully; instead you pull them down only enough to reveal what’s underneath.

Yoongi always did have a beautiful cock. It angles a little to his right and his head is a gorgeous, delectable shade of pink. You hold it firmly, precum dripping out onto the back of your hand and you begin to pump up and down slowly, almost painfully slowly.

“Ahhh, don’t tease me babe” he commands, a hand running through your hair. “Let me fuck that pretty little face of yours”

With a few more teasing pumps and licks, you give in, taking him in almost whole the first time he’s in your mouth and Yoongi could swear this is the best your mouth has ever worked on him as he watches your head go up and down. He can’t help but guide your head down to take him in just a little further, hungry for more and it really hits the spot.

“Mmm….” he hums deliciously, pleasure continuing to stir inside of him. “Oh shit, baby, you’re gonna have to stop, I’m too close. We both know I have to be in you”

You lift your head up for a final time, a small pop sound happening as your mouth leaves his aching cock.

As if you read each other’s minds, the shirts finally come off and are slung onto the floor and all underwear is discarded.

You’re back on the bed on your back with Yoongi on top kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. You’re exploring each other’s bodies as if it’s your first time doing this together and you each just have to take in every little detail of one another.

You roll Yoongi over so that you’re on top and guide him backwards to sit up. You straddle him, your wetness pressing against his dick and even this humping brings immense pleasure to the both of you as you sigh into each other’s mouths.

You remember how much Yoongi enjoyed the faces you made for him when he made you feel good, so you’re sure to let him see you biting your lip, eyes closed.

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last much longer like this” he tells you, fingers gripping tightly into the skin of your hips as you continue to grind on him.

You transition from grinding on him to allowing him inside you as you guide his cock to go inside you. Moans of pleasure erupt from both of your throats as he enters you. Your arms are now around his neck. He’s looking up at you with loose lips and a relaxed gaze, occasionally staring down at your breasts which bounce up and down as the rest of you does.

Looking into each other’s eyes means everything right now. The eye contact only enhances the feelings of pleasure and raw emotion. You bounce and you bounce on that dick until you feel weak, almost too weak to keep the pace going but Yoongi assists by thrusting deep into you, his hips now going up and down.

“Gonna come” you utter, deeply in pleasure.

“Tell me you love me” he demands.

“I-I-I” you stammer, just seconds away from climax. “Oh my god! I love you Yoongi! I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Your string of proclamations of love seem to really hit the spot for both of you. Tears stream from your eyes both in pleasure and emotion for Yoongi and you appear to simultaneously come for each other.

“I love you too y/n!” he groans as you feel his hot see ejecting into you whilst you also reach orgasm.

You both ride it out just a little longer so that you both can finish until you pull out and collapse onto him. He strokes your hair lovingly and catches his breath before speaking again.

“All that stuff you said; was it for real?” he asks.

Your heart sinks a little at how insecure you’ve made him just because of your own past trauma.

“It was Yoongi. I can’t believe I lost you just because I couldn’t swallow my pride and open up” you sigh, appreciating the feeling of being able to rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t want to push you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with though, just to let you know” he assures.

“I know, I know… in the morning, I want to do this properly. We’ll talk, like two civilised adults should… That is, if you’ll listen or even consider having me back” you sigh, drawing circles on his bare chest with a finger.

“One step at a time, yeah?” he sighs back.

“Yeah” you agree, yawning afterward.

“You sound tired and it is getting late. Let’s sleep on it and we’ll talk over coffee and breakfast” he suggests, humming in a lazy way.

“I’m sorry Yoongi. For all of this” you apologise.

“I’m just glad to be here with you.”

“Me too”

[kasienda]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2019

@floraone​ tagged me, but I was going to do it anyway! 

1. List of fics completed this year:

A Fight and Make Up (An Untitled UsaMamo Drabble) Superhero Survey (Miraculous Reveal) Last Wishes (Ladybug) Word Vomit (Sailor Moon Reveal) Kiss (Sailor Moon Reveal) The Sol of the System (Sailor Moon)

2. Number of words written:

In the year of 2019, I published 55,755 words in various stories. Not as many as last year, but under my circumstances I’m pretty proud of that number. (My 750words app says I’ve written 108k since May, but that’s not all fic writing. Though like 90% of it is. It’s also mostly not published though). 

3. Your most popular fic this year:

Last Wishes – I have no idea where this story came from. I was in a weird mood and it was haunting me and I had to get it out! And like Nightmares (and no other fic I’ve ever written), it came so easily. Wrote the whole thing in about three sittings. And apparently, it resonated with a lot of people (made a lot of people cry). And I gotta say, this Ladybug fandom is wild in that you can get like 100 kudos in a day! I’m way too addicted to that feeling. But in the Sailor Moon Fandom, my most popular fic this year was A Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes, which makes sense because really that’s the only story I’ve been somewhat consistently updating this year. Besides Last Wishes, everything I’ve published this year have been one-offs. 4. Your personal favorite this year:

I don’t know!! Why do you make me pick from my children?!

I’m insanely proud of the most recent update of Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes and the Fight/Make Up Drabble (maybe I should give it a name). 

Like, I’m so pleased with how these came out. But I also just reread Last Wishes searching for the review that touched me this year, and I’m kinda in awe. It’s just so amazing and powerful. And I’m crying! I’m not sure I believe that I wrote it. 

5. Your favorite scene:

This is an excerpt from Chapter Two of An Open Secret (which isn’t published, BUT I wrote it earlier this week so that’s 2019 right?!), which was supposed to be a one off for the ML Secret Santa Fic Exchange, and it grew into a multi-chapter fic! I just love it when that happens! “I have to tell her how I feel,” Adrien thought out loud. “Do you think she likes me?” 

“Aren’t you tired of letting Ladybug break your heart?” Plagg asked, floating lazily through the air.

“Not ladybug. Marinette!”

Plagg whipped around to hover behind Adrien’s shoulders. Sure enough, Adrien was pouring through Marinette’s Instagram feed, and not his Ladybug album. 

“Marinette? Since when? I thought Marinette was ‘just a friend.’”

“I did too, Plagg! But she’s been so different this week! She’s not nervous, and I think I love her so much.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I’ll always love Ladybug, but she’s made it clear that she’s interested in someone else.”

Plagg was proud of himself for not laughing. 

“Do you think she likes me?” Adrien asked. 

Plagg rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you have to ask.”

“She doesn’t, does she? I mean, why would she? Why was she always so nervous around me before? Did she hate me?”

“You don’t give me enough cheese for this,” the kwami grumbled. 

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

The Sol of the System was so hard! I was writing for someone else who seemed to really like Silver Millennium, and I love the Silver Millennium as past life baggage that informs current fears and behaviors, but as its own thing? I never really felt connected to it! And then, I tried to give it a sci-fi twist, which is also not my genre! And even once I had a concept that I thought I could do something with, I had no time to work on it!! Somehow, it magically came together. @tinacentury​ has a lot to do with that. (She’ll say that she didn’t do much, but she’s so wrong!!) So, does my husband for kinda taking the kids for the last day and a half before the deadline so I could just write! 

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

In general, my use of parentheticals in the Fight Make Up UsaMamo Drabble makes me SO HAPPY! And I’m so sad that hardly anyone read this short!! One line doesn’t really capture the technique though, so here’s six and half paragraphs… (My husband is rolling his eyes so hard right now…) 

...

Mamoru watched her from his usual booth like he had everyday for the last week. He had no right, he knew it, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Usagi was light and he was a moth. She was morphine and he was a drug addict. It physically hurt to be in her presence when he couldn’t even speak to her, but it was somehow better than not seeing her at all.

He stared at the back of her golden head seated in a booth across the Fruit Parlor's dining room. They had progressed far enough into their break up that it was possible for them to inhabit the same room (well, a large restaurant in any case) without either of them bursting into tears or retreating completely.

But today, Usagi was stretching his tolerance. She had come in with a friend (a male friend). Though maybe friend was too strong a word as it was quickly apparent that the boy sitting across from his girlfriend (his ex-girlfriend) was an assigned partner for some school project.

But even if it had been a date with romantic intentions, Mamoru liked to think he could have handled it. He wasn't completely confident he could make that claim, but he wanted to be able to say it was true. Because, more than anything, he just wanted to see Usagi happy.

And if he had to stay away to keep her breathing, he couldn't be the one to do that. It would have been hard, but he would have forced himself to bare it, just as he had forced himself to break up with her (the best thing that had ever happened in his miserable life) so that she would be safe.

But that wasn't the situation. They were supposed to be working on the project, but the boy was too familiar with her. His head kept invading her work space, he slid closer to her so that their sides were touching, and he accidentally touched her too often to be coincidence. 

And again, it would have been fine (who was he kidding; he would have been a jealous mess) if Usagi welcomed the boy's advances. 8.  A comment that touched you:

I received this comment on my Last Wishes Fic. And spent two days and asked for lots of advice in how to respond. Then when I finally did, this person told me that this story helped them talk about how they were feeling about their loss with their family. Like guys, this isn’t why I started writing fic, but OMG it definitely keeps me going.

On a lighter note, I also kinda love it whenever one of my Sailor Moon followers comments on a Ladybug fic that I’ve written. Like to me, it’s the biggest compliment that they like my writing enough, that they’re willing to cross over to a different fandom for a bit. @beej88​ even crossed fandoms and genres for me. And whenever I’m sad about not getting reviews from my giftee, @floraone​ pops in with an essay and I feel like it doesn’t matter if my giftee never responds at all. (She may have done this twice without knowing how good her timing was… and for the record ONE of my giftees totally responded with gushing praise, so… I just gotta be more patient!)

And I especially appreciate @tinacentury​ for all the behind the scenes comments and encouragement and then also taking the time to comment on stories after the fact as well!!

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

So, first off, my friends here have been so encouraging.

The Miraculous Ladybug Community – I’ve delved into a new fandom (blame my sister!). And man, I really like the dynamic of being in an insanely active fandom where the source material isn’t finished yet. It’s like working in a living breathing thing, and that’s so cool. Also, I get so many comments/kudos even being a pretty unknown author there and I’m very addicted to this validation. (Though I made a rec list!! I was so excited!! Thank you @alexseanchai​!!). It also makes me feel like a traitor to my Sailor Moon roots though…

750words.com – this is a little app that just made writing feel easy. It made writing a habit, and took off the pressure of getting it perfect! I feel like it’s taught me to write a lot faster and worry about perfecting it later.  This little app is what gave me the structure to keep writing when my life has been insane!

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I participated in two fic exchanges this year! I’ve never done this before. And I kinda love the experience of writing for what you think someone else would like. It forced me to write in a different headspace and write to a deadline, which apparently, I’m very capable of doing. And it definitely pushed me into writing things that are different than I normally write.

Also, that I wrote and published anything at all inbetween taking care of a medically fragile four-year-old and an infant who was born in March and going back to work this past September. (Writing has only become more important to me. It’s how I recharge and deal with stress, so I’m clearly not going to stop).

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

So many!! Probably too many! (Like always!) - I really want to finish Chocolate Milkshakes and An Open Secret in like the next 30 days! (I promise nothing!) - I really want to dive back into Coming of Age and Invisible Wounds. Like I’m SO excited about where these stories are going! - I want to polish up like four Miraculous Reveals that are each like 80% finished, so I can get some momentum going on this series. - I want to go to the library every week for two hours for writing to maybe have a chance of reaching some of these goals.

And I will tag @tinacentury​, @overworkedunderwhelmed​, @beej88​, @mikauzoran​, @cassraven​, @laadychat​, @bubbleblower​ as an invitation to participate if you want to! Not a requirement! :) You can totally do it if you’re not tagged too! 

[crqstalite]

drabble, rain. [theron && tri’ama]

a little drabble i wrote over the course of two days because i finally finished shadow of revan and rise of the emperor, and i’m in loving theron shan hours. mostly, tri’ama remembering that she’ll never see him again.

written: 11.4.19. word count: 2,628

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"20. as we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

song file: chains, nick jonas.

character file: tri'ama amarillis & theron shan.

-

tri'ama doesn't like admitting weakness. whether that be in a duel, or out in the jungles of yavin iv, the emperor's wrath is never quick to give up a fight. you can believe she'd much rather die than say someone else or something else conquered her first.

but some armor doesn't always do the trick for the cool and damp nights of yavin as the coalition leaders break off from their meeting, and she can finally rub her temples without seeming annoyed with one faction or the other. she has no problem with the jedi at this very moment, nor is she particularly angry with the sith. a surprising balance, really. but, she is rather upset that the temperature dropped so quickly on the planet.

she tries to avert her eyes from where the republic allies reconvene off to the side, the red of theron's jacket taunting her, as if saying 'come over here'. shaking her head, she tries to ignore the bickering that most likely will erupt eventually between marr and lana. shivering, she figures there isn't much better to do than to go to sleep on the fury and get ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

but quinn was supposed to return from leave today, she remembers as she grits her teeth. the absence of her wedding ring and replacement with her grandmother's still weighs heavy on her mind as she frowns. so maybe not the fury tonight, not with how much it still smells like him and his cologne. there isn't much else to get up to on the outpost, and it's not like she can go forward without official orders from marr or satele. sleeping on the station seems like the best option today.

satele is so terrifyingly calm, it shivers her down to her very core as she picks up a datapad, scrolling through the current mission reports. most of which she herself had submitted, high concentration of massassi near a temple, lots of potent wildlife to keep at least one eye on at all times, and spirits wandering the caverns. nothing new or too concerning, so she's content to wander deeper into the jungle near the meeting alcove, still shivering as water soaks her hair through and plasters it into a near unrecognizable version of her previous style as it hangs down in front of her eyes.

wonderful. it was due for a wash anyways.

hiding under a low-hanging tree and pushing a particularly mischeveous blonde curl out of her face, she continues to scroll past paragraphs and paragraphs of hastily written aurebesh and she tries not to be remembered how cold she is. she's originally gone ahead and believed yavin was a jungle and would be as humid as warm as one, but clearly, she was mistaken because of the emperor's presence everything seemed to change. adding notes where required, she tries not to get too annoyed with the hurried mispellings of field agents and whatnot.

she wondered if the hand would come after her again if she badmouthed the emperor out loud instead of shouting at him every time something bad happened to her because of him. she chuckles, teeth audibly chattering. let them, she'd cut them down and then the man himself.

the light of the moon shines off the pond nearby, and she's happy to gaze into it from her perch nearby. should it not have been so cold, she would've been happy to take a dip, maybe not in the presence of the coalition forces, but swimming had always been a passion of hers. something that the incident on manaan had nearly taken from her, but she digressed. something about being eveloped by water and letting the waves take you or simply being content to sit at the bottom of a pool or pond was relaxing. nearly along the same lines of gathering fury for a fight.

oh ew, she sounded like a jedi now. maybe satele and the barsen'thor had more of an effect on her than she'd thought they had, with all their talks of rationality and actually thinking your problems through before acting. horrible ideas, really.

slicking her hair back into a messy bun, she unclips her respirator from around her jaw and breathes in the rainy air. now unfiltered, the air doesn't smell like the ocean, or really anything she's smelled before. dromound kaas is technically a jungle, but she's spent so much time in the concrete area that the smell is rather new to her. not yet comforting, but still oddly calming. the leaves of the weeping tree above her tickle her head and back as she shifts to a more comfortable position.

she's quick to hear the footsteps that are supposed to be quiet, and the even more recognizable force signature of none other than theron shan. she's sure she's not supposed to know he's coming, but she's also very sure that the man knows just how far her force powers extend, especially as the literal emperor's wrath. he is an sis agent, and her file must be a few hundred meters long and just as thick. out of the corner of her eyes, she can see he has his arms wrapped about him, his product filled hair starting to droop (she knows there's product in there, it's a lot of the same that mal-quinn used, same smell). "darth amarillis."

"what is it, shan? couldn't get on without me?" she asks, finally lifting her head as his surname crosses his lips in that deepy and husky voice of his. he rolls his eyes and she uncrosses her own arms and stands up straight.

"no, i thought i'd just seen you disappear up this way, that's all. wondered why, you usually head back to the station after missions." he answers indifferently.

"stalking me, shan?" she smirks, raising an eyebrow before he realizes what he's said. admitting to knowing her schedule is rather interesting, but he is a spy. he's trained to know these things about people. she smiles on the inside, he cared that much to learn her routine.

"you just...never come up here that's all. wanted to make sure you were alright." he's embarassed now, not meeting her eyes as he shrugs, looking everywhere but at her muscular, if not also short, frame. so confident, yet turns into a mouse when the two of them end up alone together. she'd find it funny, if she and quinn hadn't just ended the only relationship she'd ever been in.

"you don't have to apologize for being concerned, theron." her tone takes on a softer melody, trying to get him to look at her again. "it's more relaxing out here than it is on a hectic station. i didn't wish to fly all the way back to vaiken either."

"yeah, course." he says, in near agreement. she wonders whether this a point where she should press for the real reason he came over here, because if that was the case, lana probably would've wandered up here first or with him. the woman was a wonderful friend to tri'ama, and many had already mistaken them for siblings or distant family. but the nervous energy he has isn't fear, but some other anxiety of some sort. maybe the upcoming fight against revan is getting to him, she knows that's one of the few things racing through her mind.

he's a sight for sore eyes. on manaan, she was still trying to figure out all her issues with quinn, trying to figure whether grass was greener on the other side of the fence, and on rishi? after he'd been captured and interrogated, she was quick to find that she cared for the man, a lot. even if his faction had tried to kill her multiple times, and she'd killed millions of his in return. the heat of her cheeks just thinking about the kiss on rishi is nearly enough to keep from shivering.

he must've noticed because in less than a second he's shucked off his red overcoat and has tried to discreetly put it around her shoulders. the sleeveless armor is quickly forgotten as her neurons nearly stop firing and she sticks her arms through the sleeves. "cold out here, isn't it?"

"definitely." he responds. his shirt is a long sleeve, though is quickly getting soaked through by the rain. frowning, she's already got the jacket on and she is rather warm. giving it back doesn't seem like an option she wants to take right now either, but she also doesn't want to take advantage of his kind heart too much (bleh, light side talking again), so as he moves to leave, she pulls him back and instead puts her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his toned chest. he tenses, obviously, as she puts just enough fury to get her body warm again, and without the cold the blow out the flames, it's successful.

"tri'ama..." he nearly has a warning tone to his voice before visibly relaxing a bit, his heart rate slowing down back to normal as his body warms alongside her own. "you didn't need the jacket after all, did you?"

"i can't exactly generate enough myself when i'm below freezing, theron. so yes, it was necessary." she says smoothly, pulling away just enough to look up at him with a playful if not also dangerous look crossing her eyes. he's quite a bit taller than her, which is annoying enough, but not too much taller that she can't easily peck a kiss to his lips without too much trouble.

which she does, because her middle name is trouble.

he doesn't even move, shock evident before his cheeks turn a dusky pink, looking away as she grows closer again. with his face turned away, she plants another kiss onto the exposed cheek as he turns away again, another kiss on the other cheek. she finds it funny, he doesn't apparently. "would you quit that?" he says, trying to bat her away without success.

"i suppose, if that's what you want." she says, letting go of him immeditaly, he stumbles as she flips the collar of his jacket back up so she can hide her face in it. mostly, to hide her own crimson cheeks. it wasn't unusual that she'd do the same with quinn, if only to pull him away from work for just a moment or two. theron, however, is different from the imperial fanatic. flustering quinn was hard work, getting him away from his datapad was a struggle and a half, but theron? not so much.

her, even less.

the rain is pouring now as the two eventually come to their senses, tri'ama standing rigid under the leafs of the tree, only the occasional drop of rain managing to find it's way to the duo. assignment long forgotten, she tries not to show her interest too well, "after all this, where will you be, theron?"

"wherever the sis needs me." he sighs, as if really thinking about the extent of his job. she wondered what it was like, to not be force sensitive and rely on a secretive job to pay your bills and even possibly kill you in the process. the way his face is marred with bruises and scars, she withholds her hand to caress his face. she wonders where each one has come from, what the story behind each one is. "hard to predict where they send a secret agent."

"yes, of course." thunder claps in the distance as she really processes that after all this she may never see theron again. at least, not on the same side of the battlefield. "of course." she whispers at the end.

"what about you?" he finally asks, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes just barely flashing a verdant green before staring back out at the landscape. "i mean...just where are you going to be posted?"

"i'm posted wherever i choose to be posted. but with the brewing war, i suppose i'll be seeing more rain on dromound kaas than the sunny skies of anywhere else." she says pointedly as she grimaces. what if she does have to fight against theron one day? his squadron, his troops. even him, if worst comes to worst. they'd dueled before, but not to the death. never to injury.

what if one day she has to?

"you uh, really like the sun, huh?" he asks, as he furrows his brow in concern, turning towards while she'd been mentally monolouging. she must've become all jaded again without realizing it. "thought sith could just go anywhere they went, anytime they wanted to."

"i have my responsibilities to the council. once i get back it's going to be 'jedi this', 'sith that', intelligence this or that, the sis...." she trails off, realizing if she kept talking she'd give away more than a few secrets that the council had to an sis agent of the opposite faction, "getting away and working for the coalition was really vacation enough."

"hmph." he says, grunting in response. he shuffles on his feet before standing sturdily in front of her, a serious expression falling over his features, "whatever's...uh..going on between us, you know it's all over when the coalition ends, right? i just, don't want to get your hopes up..."

"i'm rather aware." she deadpans, trying to put too much more thought into it. static buzzes in her head as she considers the matter, frowning. going home to quinn with the stench of another man on her, without another person sleeping with her at night. without the little things, tri'ama wasn't sure she could survive going home to the fury without theron, even with vette, pierce and jaesa seperating the two as much as they could. she'd have to face the fact that the mistakes she and quinn had made wouldn't easily been forgotten, or fixed, "nothing lasts forever shan. as much as we wish they did." she trails off.

"yeah." there's a sense of finality behind that. period, not a comma or a semicolon, the end. "can't holocall, can't send each other anything. won't see each other ever again."

"i'm not a child theron. i was aware of the consequences when i kissed you on rishi."

"i know, i know." he responds, before she grows ever-closer to him. he isn't quick to take her in his arms, but eventually allows her to hug him back. "just, i know what happens to people who accidentally take a sith to bed."

she stifles an eyeroll and a chuckle at the comment. while she's never been one to indulge people's stereotypes about sith, she would admit to knowing quite a few part of the order who'd later killed unsatisfactory lovers, "you've never taken me to bed shan, is that a request i hear?"

"just...you're a real minx you know that?" he asks, as she smirks. pressing a kiss on his lips, he presses back surprisingly before tightening his grasp on her. he's rougher than she expected, but she can be just as rough back. when he eventually pulls away, her still in his arms, she's still smiling, something's that's unusual as the compromising position she's in now.

"if i never see you again, theron, then i'll make what i have now last as long as possible." she says, making to wander away with his jacket still around her shoulders before shucking it off. handing it back to him and picking up her datapad, she kisses him one last time before whispering something so quiet she's sure over the rain he can't hear.

however, she may have underestimated his perception because the poor man's having an aneursym over three little words that have just shaken him to his core.

“i love you.”