#ao3 writer

[nevesserialwriter]

LOL I think I’m number 2 oh god.

There are two types of writers:

1. 'It's fiction, it doesn't need to make sense!'

2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'

[imalittleoutthere]

One of the greatest lies a writer can tell themselves is that they will remember the idea that they came up with while they were half asleep, so they don’t need to write it down right away.

[7975348473]

Holy moly dude.

The feeling you feel when you finally break free of a writers block. When you finally finish that paragraph that you had no idea how to complete. When you finally find a way to fix that story that always felt incomplete. That amazing feeling that makes you feel like ur on top of the world and untouchable.

I live for it.

[gdinthehouseee]

Unbuttoned: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after disappearing without a trace, ji-yong finds out you've suddenly made it in life and he realises his little crush was so much more than that...

word count: 4328

tags: angsty (if you squint), flirting, teasing; no smut but you're dominant and he's submissive

ao3 link

Ji-yong was used to the pre-show chaos—the hum of excitement, the stylists fussing over every little detail, the way the air always felt electric just before stepping on stage.

But tonight, something felt off. It wasn’t obvious, just a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Maybe it was the way you were moving—slower, more deliberate, like you were trying to memorize everything. Or the way you smiled—brighter than usual, but there was something too soft about it, like it didn’t quite reach your eyes. He watched as you adjusted the hem of his jacket, your fingers lingering just a second too long. He didn’t think much of it at first—he liked having you close, maybe a little too much. He always had.

"You're gonna do great out there." Your voice was quieter than usual, but he still heard it over the noise around you. 

He smirked, tilting his head. "You say that like I won’t see you after the show."

You hesitated. Just for a second. But he caught it.

"Just felt like saying it."

His smirk faltered, the unease creeping in again. He studied your face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. But before he could ask, before he could press, you were already stepping back, flashing him another one of those too-soft smiles.

Then the lights dimmed, the cue was called, and just like that—it was time to perform. 

It was electric, the crowd deafening, and he was still buzzing from it as he jogged off stage, the echoes of their final song still ringing in his ears. His first instinct? Find you. It was routine by now—after every show, you were always there. Whether it was to fix a loose button, drape a jacket over his shoulders, or just roll your eyes at how sweaty they all were, you were always one of the first people he saw post-performance. Except tonight, you weren’t. The other stylists were around, already preparing them for interviews and press photos, but not you. He caught one of the younger assistants rushing past and asked if she had seen you.

"Not since before the show."

Ji-yong's frown deepened. That was strange. You never disappeared like this.

Maybe you weren’t feeling well? That would explain the way you’d acted earlier—the way your hands had lingered, the way your smile hadn’t quite reached your eyes, the way you’d looked at him like you were memorizing him. That thought sent a flicker of unease through him, but he quickly pushed it down. You were probably just exhausted. He’d find you later, tease you for disappearing on him, and everything would be back to normal.

Except… he didn’t find you later. You weren’t in the dressing room when he went to change. You weren’t in the staff area when he wandered through. You weren’t even at the afterparty—something that really struck him as odd. You always showed up for those, even if it was just to roll your eyes at him when he got a little too deep into the champagne. He checked his phone. Nothing.

A strange feeling twisted in his stomach. He didn’t like it.

Still, he told himself he was overreacting. You’d probably gone home early. Maybe you weren’t feeling great. Maybe you’d just crashed in bed the second you got home. He told himself he would see you tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came—you were gone.

“What do you mean she left? To go where? Why?” 

The manager simply shrugged. "She quit. Moved on. I think she had other opportunities."

Other opportunities. Ji-yong knew he should have felt happy for you. If you left, it had to be for something better, right? So why did it feel like he’d been punched in the gut? Why had you said nothing? Why had you just disappeared?

He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your contact. But something stopped him. If you had left without a word, if you hadn’t even said goodbye, then maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be found. That thought settled deep in his chest, heavy and unwelcome. But what choice did he have?

So, instead of texting, instead of calling, he did the only thing he could. 

He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t have to: the others knew. They saw it in the way his eyes always found you first in a crowded room. In the way his mood brightened when you were around and dimmed when you weren’t. In the way he let you tease him—really tease him—when anyone else would have gotten a sharp retort. So when you disappeared, they noticed that too.

"She really left without telling you?" Youngbae had asked one night, frowning as he passed Ji-yong a beer.

"Guess so."

"And here I thought you were her favorite."

Ji-yong scoffed, taking a long drink. So did he. But what could he do? Track you down? Demand an answer? If you had wanted to be found, you wouldn’t have left in the first place. So he swallowed it down. The frustration. The disappointment. The fucking ache of it. And eventually, he let it go.

Or at least—he thought he had.

Ji-yong wasn’t even supposed to be here. Fashion shows weren’t exactly rare in his world, but this one? This was different. Exclusive. Prestigious. A collection debuting some of the industry’s fastest-rising designers—handpicked talents, future icons.

And apparently, you.

The moment he spotted you, his world tilted for a fraction of a second. It was impossible not to notice you: the quiet confidence. The effortless way you held yourself. The way people gravitated toward you like you were the center of gravity in this entire damn room.

Ji-yong exhaled, lips curving slightly.

"So that’s what you’ve been up to." He muttered to himself. He should have been mad. Should have felt bitter that you left him wondering, that you never reached out. But if anything? He was impressed. You hadn’t just moved on. You had thrived, and it seems you still are. And for some reason, that made it impossible for him to move.

Instead of storming over, demanding answers, he stayed back—watching. Taking you in. For the first time since you left, he wasn’t the one in control.

And he kind of liked it.

Because he remembered you when you first started—wide-eyed, careful, terrified to mess up. You had been so nervous back then, barely speaking above a murmur when you first joined their styling team. So different from the person standing across the room now, effortlessly commanding attention without saying a word.

He remembered the way your hands trembled the first time you adjusted his jacket, how you had apologized at least three times for pulling too hard on a seam.

"Relax," he had told you back then, amused. "I’m not gonna bite."

That wasn’t entirely true—he had wanted to, just not in the way you feared he might.

But now? Now you weren’t just part of the background. You were the moment, and he couldn’t look away. He exhaled slowly as he watched as you laughed at something someone said, your head tilting back, light catching against the smooth line of your throat.

If he had any lingering resentment about the way you left, it dulled in comparison to the fact that you had made it. You disappeared, yes. But you didn’t disappear into nothing, and somehow, that made it impossible for him to be mad. Instead, he felt something entirely different. He felt proud.

And maybe, just maybe—he felt something else too.

Something that never really went away.

"Ah, Ji-yong! Perfect timing." A voice cut through his thoughts. He turned, watching as a well-known fashion magazine editor approached, a glass of wine in one hand and an amused smile on their lips.

"You have to meet our star designer of the night," they continued, gesturing toward you with a sweeping motion. "Ma’am? This is—” 

"We’ve met."

“Great! I’ll leave you to it.” The editor smiled warmly before disappearing, not that either of you took much notice in the first place. 

The words left Ji-yong’s lips before the introduction could even finish, smooth and confident, laced with something undeniably smug. The moment stretched between you. Your gaze flicked to his, sharp and knowing. He could see the moment recognition fully settled in, the way your lips curved at the edges—not in surprise, not in awkwardness, but in something that made his pulse jump. Amusement.

"Have we?" You mused, tapping a finger against your chin. "I meet a lot of people. You might have to remind me."

His smirk widened. So that’s how you wanted to play it? Fine. He stepped forward, closing the distance just enough for the conversation to feel private, charged.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low and deliberate. "I might start thinking you actually forgot about me."

You tilted your head, feigning consideration. "And if I did?"

Ji-yong exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. God, he missed this.

"Then I guess I’ll just have to remind you."

Oh, he was confident. That same effortless charm, the one that used to fluster you all those years ago, was still there—sharp, teasing, and completely unshaken. But if he thought you were still that same nervous stylist who used to stumble over their words around him, he had another thing coming.

You hummed, tilting your head slightly as if considering his offer. Then, with the perfect amount of feigned innocence, you let your gaze flick over him—slow, deliberate.

"Remind me?" You echoed, brows raising slightly. "Hmm… I don’t know, Ji-yong." You made a thoughtful noise before leaning in just enough to match his proximity. "If you were really that memorable, wouldn’t I still remember?"

You felt the shift immediately. It was subtle, the way his smirk twitched, how his eyes darkened just a shade, the way his breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. There it was. Satisfaction curled in your chest. Ji-yong had always been used to being in control, to being the one who threw people off balance—especially you. But now? Now you were the one watching his composure slip.

"You sure you want to play that game?" He murmured, voice lower now, softer—more dangerous.

You merely smiled, reaching for your champagne flute from a nearby server’s tray without breaking eye contact.

"I’m just saying," you mused before taking a slow sip. "If you left an impression, wouldn’t I feel something right now?"

You swore you saw something flicker in his eyes—a challenge, a promise.

Ji-yong exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

"You’ve changed," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. It wasn’t an insult. If anything, he almost sounded impressed.

"People grow."

"Guess we have some catching up to do, then."

And just like that, the game had truly begun. Ji-yong was good at this game—effortless, smooth, completely unshaken. But so were you. And if he thought a few teasing words and a smirk were enough to make you fall right back into old habits, he was in for one hell of a shock—but, certainly not an unwelcome one.

You let a pause stretch between you, just long enough to make him wait for your response. Then, with an easy smile, you took another slow sip of your champagne and turned away.

"Well," you sighed, glancing around as if already losing interest. "This has been fun, Ji-yong."

His smirk faltered for the first time all night.

"That’s it?” He asked, brow raising slightly.

"What? Were you expecting something else?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. Instead, you flashed him a knowing look—just the slightest tilt of your lips, just enough to let him know you were enjoying this. Then, without another word, you walked away. You didn’t rush. You wanted him to watch.

And, oh, you knew he was watching.

You could feel it—the weight of his gaze following you as you slipped effortlessly back into the sea of industry elites, greeting familiar faces with polite smiles and easy laughter. You didn’t even have to look back to know that Ji-yong was still standing exactly where you had left him, eyes locked onto you, jaw tight. Let him simmer. Let him feel the sting of being dismissed. Let him realize that if he wanted more, he was going to have to come get it. And, knowing Kwon Ji-yong?

He absolutely would.

He had always been the one in control—the one people gravitated toward, the one who set the pace, the one who decided when and how the game was played. But tonight? Tonight, he was the one waiting. Watching. Wanting.

And you? You were thriving. He could see it in the way you carried yourself—the easy confidence, the way people hung onto your every word, the way you barely even acknowledged the admiration being thrown at you, like you already knew it belonged to you. And damn it, that was attractive.

Ji-yong exhaled slowly, swirling the drink in his hand as he tried—really tried—to stay patient. Unfortunately for him, the longer he watched, the worse it got.

You were working the room effortlessly, accepting praise with a polite smile, dodging flirtations with a teasing remark, keeping everyone exactly where you wanted them. Including him. You knew what you were doing. You knew he was watching. You knew he was waiting. And you knew exactly how to make him crave your attention.

Ji-yong’s jaw clenched as he shifted awkwardly on his feet, fingers tightening around his glass. Why the hell did this make him feel so—so… flustered? No. That wasn’t the right word. Turned on?

…Maybe.

Damn it.

He wasn’t supposed to like this. He wasn’t supposed to be the one standing here, silently begging you to look at him. Yet, when your gaze finally—finally—flickered in his direction, just for a second, just long enough for a teasing little smile to tug at your lips, he felt it like a punch to the chest. God, he was in trouble.

Ji-yong exhaled sharply, setting his glass down on the nearest tray before he could crush it in his grip.

He was down bad. Embarrassingly so. But the worst part? You knew it. You were still working the room, accepting praise and deflecting flirtation with effortless grace, never once giving him the full attention he craved. You were making him wait. And he liked it. A little too much. Fine. You wanted to make him chase? Wanted to remind him how it felt to be on the other side of the game? Then he’d chase. Happily.

He pushed off the wall, slipping seamlessly into the crowd, keeping a careful distance as he observed you. Not hovering, but close enough for you to feel him there. Close enough to make it clear that no matter how long you made him wait, he wasn’t going anywhere.

The conversation you were in shifted, and he watched as yet another designer leaned in a little too close, whispering something that made you laugh. Ji-yong clenched his jaw, but when the group finally moved, dispersing slightly, he saw his opening, and he took it.

"You really are something else, you know that?"

Ji-yong’s voice was low, warm, just behind your ear. You didn’t jump—you had felt him coming. But still, when you turned to meet his gaze, your expression was unreadable.

"Took you long enough," you murmured.

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. Oh, you were good.

"Had to be sure," he mused, letting his gaze flick over you. "You’ve got the whole damn room wrapped around your finger. Thought I might be imagining things."

"And?" You raised a brow.

Ji-yong leaned in, voice dropping just for you. "And I think you like making me wait."

Your lips curled, the barest hint of a smirk. "Maybe I do."

"You know what’s funny, though?" He continued, his own smirk growing.

"Enlighten me."

"I don’t mind."

"That’s cute," you murmured and closed the distance, your voice all soft amusement. He tensed—just a flicker, just enough for you to notice—but he didn’t move away. Didn’t stop you as you leaned in, your breath brushing against his cheek. "Thinking I’d make you wait just to make you suffer."

"I didn’t say suffer," he countered, tone measured. But there was something behind it, something warmer, weaker.

You tilted your head, eyes flickering to his lips for just a second. Letting him see it.

"Oh?" you mused. "Then you’re enjoying yourself?"

Ji-yong exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe a little too much."

You smiled, dragging a single fingertip along the cuff of his sleeve—not quite touching him, but close enough that you might as well have been. His breath hitched, so quiet it was almost imperceptible. Almost.

"You’ve always been impatient, Ji-yong."

His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling just a little quicker than before. "And you… have always been trouble."

You laughed, light and teasing, stepping back at the exact moment he started to lean in. Ji-yong inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, frustrated in the best way.

"See you later."

"Wait—hold on."

He was right beside you before you even made it five steps, keeping pace effortlessly despite your attempt to slip away.

"You’re just gonna walk off after that?" he asked, a huff of disbelief in his tone.

You barely spared him a glance, adjusting the delicate fabric of your sleeve as you moved. "I have things to do."

"Oh, right," he said, voice laced with sarcasm. "Because you’re the big deal now."

"Not my fault you’re only just realising."

"Trust me, I realised."

He was rambling now, following you without thinking, completely unbothered by the fact that this was your show, your event, and yet here he was—tailing you like some love-struck rookie.

"It’s just—", he continued, his brows furrowing, "you really weren’t gonna say anything? Disappear for years, then show up out of nowhere, looking—" He gestured vaguely at you, his lips parting like he had too many thoughts all at once. "Like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like—like someone people wait for."

That made you pause, just for a second. Because that? That was dangerous. It wasn’t playful teasing: it was real. And maybe that was why you turned away first, keeping your tone light as you murmured, "Guess I must be worth the wait, then."

He exhaled a sharp laugh, hands on his hips. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you, like he was debating something. And then—

"Let me take you out."

That stopped you. Right there, mid-step. Slowly, you turned back to face him. "Excuse me?"

Ji-yong shrugged, playing it off—like he wasn’t just standing there, completely at your mercy, waiting for your answer. Like he wasn’t watching you too closely, trying not to give himself away. Like he wasn’t standing with his weight shifted just slightly forward, as if ready to follow you again if you so much as took a step in the wrong direction. Like he wasn’t gripping the inside of his pocket a little too tightly, knuckles tense, the only way he could stop himself from reaching for you. Like he wasn’t holding his breath. Because he was. And you could see it—all of it. It was in the way his jaw flexed when you tilted your head, deliberately dragging out your silence. It was in the way his lips parted, just slightly, as if he was about to say something else—but didn’t. It was in the way his pupils betrayed him, darkening with something unspoken, something desperate. And most of all? It was in the way he refused to look away. Even now—especially now—he was still chasing you, still reaching for something that had been out of his grasp for far too long.

"One night," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No running. No disappearing. Just me and you."

You hummed, tapping your chin like you were actually considering it. "And if I say no?"

Ji-yong smirked, tilting his head. "Then I’ll just have to make myself worth the wait, too."

And damn it. That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip the way it did, but before you could say anything more, a voice cut through the moment.

"Excuse me—"

Ji-yong stiffened. His fingers twitched at his sides, his entire body going rigid as someone approached. For a split second, panic shot through him. Because this was exactly how it happened last time. A distraction. A fleeting moment of hesitation. And then—you were gone. So before he could stop himself, he turned to you, eyes searching, pleading, like he was already bracing for the worst. Like he thought you were just going to walk away again.

But you didn’t.

Instead, without even looking at the person, you held up a single hand—a silent, effortless command.

"Not now."

Ji-yong blinked.

The person faltered. "Oh—um—sorry, I just—"

"Later," you repeated, firmer this time.

“Ma’am, I need you to—”

Ji-yong felt something sharp twist in his chest. He could already feel the moment slipping, the distance creeping in—just like before. A distraction. A reason. A single second of hesitation, and then you’d be gone again. His breath caught. But then—

Then you finally turned, slow and deliberate, giving them a single look.

Just one.

Ji-yong couldn’t even explain it. There was no raised voice, no scolding, no need for anything more than the way your gaze flicked over them—assessing, unimpressed. It was the kind of look that held weight. That told people you weren’t to be questioned. That sent a clear, undeniable message. It worked. Instantly. The person hesitated, their confidence faltering, their words dying in their throat. Then— stumbling over an apology, they quickly turned and disappeared into the crowd, clearly realizing their mistake. Gone. Just like that.

He barely managed to stop himself from reacting.

Because damn.

He felt it—the way his stomach dropped, then twisted, then tightened, heat curling slow and hot in his chest. Because he liked you before. But this? This? This was something else entirely.

"Alright, Ji-yong." Your gaze softened a little, but it was enough for him to notice. "One night… but on my terms.”

Ji-yong let out a slow exhale, his lips parting slightly as if he needed a second to process what just happened. Then—he smirked.

"Didn’t know you had that kind of dominance in you."

His voice was low, smooth—but not nearly as casual as he probably wanted it to be. No, there was something else underneath, something darker, something interested. You caught it immediately.

"There’s a lot you don’t know about me."

You watched the way his smirk faltered for just a second—just long enough to catch, before he was tilting his head, his tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek.

Oh.

He liked that.

A little too much.

You stepped closer—not enough to touch, not enough to give him anything solid to hold onto, but just enough to test him. To let the air between you shift.

"What’s wrong?" Your voice was light, teasing, knowing. "You seem a little flustered."

Ji-yong let out a short laugh, exhaling sharp through his nose as he lifted a hand to rub at his jaw. "Flustered?" His voice was smoother now, more controlled. But his body? His body betrayed him. The shift in his stance. The slow drag of his gaze over you. The way his fingers twitched at his sides. You had him.

"I think you like it," you mused, tilting your head slightly. "Me telling people what to do. Calling the shots. Making them listen."

His throat bobbed. Too noticeable. You leaned in, just slightly, just enough to let your breath kiss the space near his jaw.

"Do you like being told what to do, too?"

Ji-yong swallowed hard, but that cocky smirk of his never fully disappeared. If anything, it deepened—lazy, amused, but just a little too tight around the edges. Like he was trying to play it off. Like he wasn’t just standing there, hands twitching at his sides, hanging on to every single word that came out of your mouth.

And you?

You weren’t about to let him off that easily.

"You didn’t answer me." Your voice was slow, deliberate. Every syllable placed with care. "Do you like being told what to do, Ji-yong?"

You could feel the tension coil between you.

He let out a short laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. But it wasn’t the smooth, effortless gesture he usually carried himself with—it was something closer to restless.

"I don’t know," he mused, voice deceptively light. "Maybe you should try it and find out."

Oh?

Now that was interesting. You hummed, eyes flicking over him, watching the way he held himself perfectly still. Waiting.

"Alright, then."

You reached out—slowly. Giving him time to react. To stop you. He didn’t.

Your fingers found the lapel of his jacket, smoothing over the fabric before taking your time fixing it. Straightening it. Adjusting him as if he were yours to adjust. He exhaled. Sharp. Shallow. Like he really wasn’t used to this. Like he liked it a little too much.

"You’re a mess," you whispered, tilting your head slightly as you tugged the fabric just enough to make him feel it. "Stand up straight."

And he did. Instantly. Without a second thought. The realization flickered behind his eyes right after, something dark and amused and intrigued twisting beneath the surface. But it was too late. You already saw, and you couldn’t help but smile before you whispered again.

"Good boy."

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @ldydeath @wcnderlands @eru-vande @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull @aizshallnotbefound 

[jourquet]

thank you so much! its compliments like these that makes all the tireless hours worth it. giving yourself fully without filter through a fanfic, is difficult at times. so i appreciate it gets across (even tho OP unlikely has read my fanfics, its for everyone that ever has nevertheless). because i'm communicating to my readers, and i adore every conversation we have. be it brief or a convo that lasts for weeks; they're all valid. everything from a random string of emojis or letters, to whole essays of comments. because of you, i still write and feel at home in fandom. be it old or new. we're all fans; and i thank you for that.

fanfic writers are so fucking awesome man. they write novel length fics that are sometimes even better than some published bestselling books written by professional writers. like fanfic writers are professional writers to me and they gift us their masterpieces for free. they give us something we can look forward to after a long day. something from which we can seek comfort when life is hard. something that can be our own little getaway. in a world of capitalism, despite everything, they give us all of these for free. like holy fuck. shout out to every fanfic writer. I wish all fanfic writers a very ‘I love you with all my heart and soul. I thank you from the bottom of my heart’

[jensky2000]

My new fanfic…

Hear me out…Jamie, a dashing Highlander lawyer, meets Claire Liz Beauchamp, a very talented baker of erotic designs and some G rated ones too. Jamie and Claire meet with such a bang Jamie’s life is knocked off course. Jamie falls hard immediately. Claire not so much. Preoccupied by Alfie, her new boyfriend, Claire doesn’t have time worry about a 6’4 stud that can’t take no for an answer. After all Alfie just invited her to a wedding and week long celebration in the Highlands. They been dating a month. Is she ready to spend a full week with him?

The fun doesn’t end there…Alfie is Jamie’s best friend. Claire doesn’t know that. And Jamie doesn’t know that Alfie is dating Claire (aka “Liz” according to Tinder). But they’re about to find out when they arrive in the Highlands. If that’s not awkward enough…Alfie isn’t being totally honest. Why would Alfie bring his new girlfriend to his ex’s wedding without telling her? That seems like a recipe for a disaster. Thank God Jamie will be there when Claire needs a shoulder to cry on. If he can keep his ex, Leery, from interfering. Don’t worry Jamie’s cousin, Geillis, will there to help sort everyone out along with the rest of his friends from Uni.

Thoughts?

WIP coming soon😉😚

[queer-here-and-in-fear]

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

[dark-dragon-8]

Don't mean to brag (I totally do) but my job actually allows me to watch shows and write fics almost all day long unless there's an activity, documents to work on and/or students who I need to monitor.

(I work in a school library and half the time students aren't even there, so I get, like four hours to do whatever the fuck I want within the realm of common sense).

doesnt my job understand i have a blooming fanfiction writing career to work on

[charbroiledchicken]

if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

[propussyslayer]

[nondelphic]

sometimes the best writing advice is "just let it be bad." revolutionary. terrifying. but it works.

[anxious-acorn]

Literally 😂

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

[rekas-bitches]

I love, love, LOVE it when I can tell a fic author has integrated their specialized knowledge in a fic. I was reading a fic that at some point included the character going to visit an art therapist, and it's so clear that the author is an art therapist themself, and the details included are just immaculate and I love it. I've previously read about a character doing fencing for no other reason than the author clearly wanting to write a sport they understood. A character being given a hyperfixation on bugs just so the author can infodump themselves.

I eat it up every time, it brings such a smile to my face

[theaftersundown]

the holy grail types of fanfic

[mountainsoftreatos]

"Would anyone want to read --" Listen, imma stop you right there. Yes. YES, someone would want to read that. You write that weird little fucked up story. Or that domestic little slice of life story. That drabble or that 300k monster.

I promise someone wants to read it.