#fanfic writing

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 3

Secret Collection [Yandere M. Hairdresser x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Not my favorite and already way behind 😭Sorry for being gone for like, a week. I got kinda sick and then had to scramble to keep up with my new classes. I should be good for now, and I'll try to work through my asks and more of the yantober prompts for now.

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove Do not Eat! MDNI! Stalking, non consensual photography, implied kidnapping, he's really weird, nsfw themes

Your hair stylist is just the best! He always knows how to keep you coming back almost every week...

1.5k words

Clover knows that what he does isn’t right.

He cuts your hair with diligent practice, every strand memorized with care and sweet tenderness. When your tresses lay by his shifting feet, it takes all within him not to cum on spot. Your scent drives him wild, and he knows that you’re the one for him after you come back a second time.

He collects your hair after he pretends to sweep it up and throw it out, rooting around the dustpan in the back of his storefront like a desperate, mangy animal. He lives just above his small, intimate salon, and he knows that if he can just get you to come up with him, that he can start getting you to fall for him. 

Discount for today only! 75% off hair dyeing, lashes, and nails! Hurry in!

He typed it out and bit his lip as he stared at his screen. There wasn’t any sale going on. Nobody but you was privy to this, of course. Months ago, when Clover first met you, he jumped on the chance to have your phone number. He rambled on and on about how it was standard for most of all his customers to punch it. You could earn points! And exclusive coupons! Of course he was just lying to you. He would just send out a few messages every week or so to try and bait you into coming back. 

Today, he was washing your hair, trying desperately to not whip out his dick and cum all over your sweet, vulnerable face. He ran his hands through your hair, massaging in shampoo and sneakily putting every stray strand of hair that caught on his fingers on a stray napkin. For later, he promises himself with a barely restrained smirk.

“[Name]...” He called softly, watching with affection as your face crinkled before you stared up at him. A shiver ran down his spine. Fuck. If he could have your eyes on him like that at all times, he could die a happy man. He finished up rinsing you off, humming under your attention. “I’m trying to earn my masseuse license… I’m thinking of expanding the services I offer,” He explained while he moved you to a sitting position and placed a towel at your neck. You blinked up at him curiously.

Yes. Just like that. Be lured in by what I can give you.

“More? But Clover,” You laughed, “You already have a lot of things you do here. Plus, it’s only you running this place most of the time,” Your voice was filled with playful ease. He bet that you wouldn’t know what he was doing even if he pressed his throbbing hard on to your lips right the second.

“I have employees, silly,” He teased, flicking a bit of water onto your face. You giggled and wiped it off. On days you had booked him, he would basically clear out his salon of any other customers or employees. He wanted it to just be the two of you, after all.

“Anyways, you know me. I’m always looking to expand my craft,” he hummed and led you over to the vanity chair, pumping up your seat so he was leaning over you jussst right. You couldn’t see the large tent in his pants in the mirror, but he sighed happily. Oh, your neck felt so delicate underneath his fingers. He could feel your pulse thrumming. He would give anything to be able to bottle that sensation and put it up in his little room dedicated to you.

Clover slips a thin paper strip around your neck before draping a cape around you. He’d definitely nick that for later. He has a whole stack of them that he likes to sniff from time to time. He hums a small tune, one he’d seen playing on your phone once, and pulls out his hair tools. With every strand that he collects in his comb, he wets his lips with anticipation. He starts up the blow dryer and watches your lips part and your face scrunch up in mild frustration as the loud noise cuts you off. How cute.

After a moment of him working, massaging his fingers into your scalp with an air of nonchalance, he cuts the offending machine and lets you speak while he trims away at your layers.

“I’m kind of jealous,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but perk up. “You’re always working to get better, to do more,” your words stroked his ego, and he hoped that you wouldn’t take note of how flushed his face was in the mirror. You finished off with a shrug and a small smile. “I guess I just admire you…”

Clover’s heart jumped in his chest. Oh man… You had no idea. Him admirable? Would you think that still if you saw the room he had dedicated to you?

“Is that a yes to being my guinea pig, then?” He teased and leaned in so his breath fanned over your ear. You blinked for a moment and then relaxed a bit. He tried to not grin. Got you.

“Yeah sure, why not.”

He worked quickly, careful to not mess up your hair as he went along styling it to be just the way you liked. Braiding, blowouts, perms, whatever you requested, he could do it. He knew he was good at what he did, and he knew that with all the discounts he lured you in with couldn’t be beat. He was so excited, practically vibrating with joy. As he finished up, he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Okay! All done! Now just give me a moment to get everything ready for you,” He said and rushed upstairs, every creak of the wood igniting fire into his heart. In his arms was the hair and some objects you had touched. He wondered if you thought on his actions the way he thought about yours. 

Sometimes, he thinks, he wishes you would find out about how much he loves you. He’s not delusional, but by god does he wish he was. That way he could at least pretend that you would be okay with all of this. He quickly organizes the hair in its respective drawer, and the other in neat little rows that he has labeled. Used wax strips, the nail files he’s used on your hands and feet, old combs, were arranged like precious items among other things you left behind. A half empty tube of chap stick, some receipts that he’s analyzed hundreds of times, old, spat out gum. It was all here, but he needed more. He craved more of you.

Clover locked up that room with much effort. Oh how much he wanted you.

He lit candles, set up the table, heated stones, and brought the various oils and lotions he couldn’t wait to see your body slick with. He heard the creaking on the stairs, and he shuddered. 

“Oh, you got impatient, huh?” He comments, and your footsteps stop abruptly, like you were embarrassed to be caught.

“Yeahhhh,” You said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you blushed. He bit his lip, his face hidden by the flickering light. “I just couldn’t stand waiting… you know me.”

He did. He knew you so well. He’s happy the two of you could agree.

“Okay, here’s a robe… Just go behind that curtain over there and then put this on.”

Clover watches with satisfaction while you did as he instructed. You didn’t know, couldn’t know of course, that he had put a camera in the corner. You wouldn’t blame him, right? Not if you didn’t find out. He just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to get a rare, nude pic of you. After all, he hadn’t been able to get into your home yet.

You slunk out from behind the safety of the partition in that fluffy robe, and he smiled warmly and beckoned you forward. He could practically imagine the amount of new additions he could add to his photo wall. You hopped up onto the table, and he covered you with a sheet. He started a playlist of relaxing music before he rubbed some oil onto his palm before he began kneading the flesh of your legs through the sheet, watching your now relaxed face with an intense gaze. 

Clover loved you. He loved the way you sighed in pleasure as he worked on a particularly stiff knot under your skin. He loved the way you trusted him. He would cherish the robe and the sheet that had touched your pliant form. Everything would be looked after and stored with the utmost care.

Including you.

He smiled, loving and sickeningly sweet as he grabbed a neatly folded, soaked cloth off of the table from its place nestled between decorative flowers. He hovered it over your face as he drank in the sight of your still features. Your nose scrunched, and he bit back the urge to coo. He sighed happily. He wondered if you had caught on that this was the last time you would ever trust him again, that this was the last time you would be anything more than the crowned jewel that he’d been coveting this whole time.

Your eyes fluttered open, his grin stretched wider, and he pressed the cloth down.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I have observed several types of fic writers, and so for kicks and giggles, here they all are. Each of them scares me for different reasons.

The Prepared And Ready To Publish™:

Several documents dedicated to worldbuilding, planning, cross referencing, character lists & traits, plot twists, and then the actual fic document.

Dedicated to the max to creating a rich world. Probably knows more about the niche thing than you ever will. 100% could have written a thesis and chose to do fic instead (or did both at the same time).

Created a masterpiece and promptly vanished off the face of creation before coming back in with another banger to crush souls and save fandoms.

Their arrival is akin to the birth of a new era because they never fail to somehow make a niche ship popular, make a headcanon fanon, or otherwise give so much depth and interest to a character or setting that whatever they have devised is largely accepted as gospel by their readers.

They either use a high end writing program or wordpad. There is no in-between.

Mysterious. Very mysterious. Reasons for this mysteriousness vary between fics and authors.

100000/10 would be friends with them if I could. Legendary writers. But also they scare me because ??? What void offered you such power ?????

The Baby Writer:

All vibes and loosely strung plots.

It may not make the most sense, but good gracious the dedication is there.

Notable lack of comprehension when it comes to characters and places, but it's bad form to not leave a kudo because it takes guts to post anything in fandom.

They are still figuring things out and their grammar or formatting (possibly both) is probably a mess, but they've put heart into their work.

Sweetest rays of sunshine who want to be involved and are eager to learn the ropes.

The fandom's young ward or despised new arrival (depends entirely on fandom popularity and age).

8/10 would happily offer advice to them. Just can't read their work for too long without wanting to throw it into grammarly. The fear factor comes in the form of the miraculous misuse of fandom terminology. (Yeah it's tough bud, the fanon is wild. But goodness that term/canon word does NOT mean what you think it does.)

The Smut For Your Soul:

Meticulously plans the smut with all the loving care of a sculptor.

Somehow plot got involved.

Miraculously, they managed to not include an iota of plot and it has somehow managed to work.

Headcanons abound and cuteness and or angst lurks merrily behind every corner.

The tags mean everything and nothing at the same time. They are but faint guides to the fae wilds ahead. Tread lightly.

Has a mountain of unfinished WIPs that will follow them to the grave or emerge ten years after conception to grace whatever fandom spawned the idea.

The fandom thanks them for their service, although often that praise is late or hits like a freight train.

???/10 I personally avoid smut but I have friends who write it so it really depends. Terrifying because you never know who falls into this role of writer. It could be anyone. Normalcy is a mask poorly adorned for the sake of conforming to The Great Machine.

The Angst Lord:

Has a million slightly different ways to hurt their blorbo. Each are somehow more horrifying than the next.

The embodiment of the iceburg videos seen all over the net. Ask one question and you shall unravel and scheme of torment so great you shall regret having dared to speak up.

Has dozens of WIPs or unwritten ideas that they claim they will return to.

They are controlled by passion and emotion and can and will insert their own complicated situation into a fic.

Almost nothing is off limits.

Arrives to the fandom ready to brawl and somehow ends up respected or feared. They often stare in bafflement as they end up unscathed and watch angry comments fly toward the arguably innocent shippers.

Generally some of the nicest people who happen to enjoy inflicting The Horrors upon someone fictional.

'10/10 would befriend and promptly regard like a wild racoon. Offerings of angsty ideas yield delightful commentary. But also I need to prepare myself for anything they say because O U C H my SOUL.

The General Writer:

Fluff, cuteness, possibly a delightful touch of angst and pure unbridled creative simplicity.

They may not have the most brutal or soul wrenching tale, but they always manage to write something that someone, somewhere, desperately needs.

Devastatingly underrated and deserves far more praise for their contributions to the fandom.

Produces some of the softest of scenes and the most touching of interactions between characters in a contained, careful crafted, tale.

Introducing new ships or family dynamics in such a tasteful manner that brain chemistry can easily be altered.

Arrives to the fandom as a lurker and shows their appreciation through their work. Oftentimes, they are very quiet and go unnoticed.

INFINITE/10 Love these writers, honestly a gift to fandom. The sheer level of dedication to producing fluff is astounding and scary all at once.

The OC X Canon:

Has so many ships and headcanons that it's astounding.

The lore development rivals IDW and Lost Light combined. All the kudos to them for putting their souls into their characters.

The dedication is mind boggling.

They put up with so much crap they could be in MMA Wrestling if the verbal assaults translated into physical strength.

Has so many adjustments to lore and whole AUs devoted specifically to creating a perfect world.

Skilled in the extreme (or not) at integrating their ocs into canon.

Arrives to the fandom not intending to make ocs. Leaves with seventeen leashes for their new abominable creations. Is loved or hated by literally everyone, sometimes for no reason.

6/10 perfectly lovely people but very niche in their interest and thus not everyone's cup of tea. Scary because that level of sheer willpower is meant for demi-gods.

There are more types of writers, but these feel like the big overarching ones. Which kind of writer are you? :D

[blkkizzat]

is anyone else as fucking HYPE for the google docs update as I am!? idk if anyone uses the outline feature (its so helpful for my adhd brain and breaking stories up into sections) but you can now have a full multi-chaptered fic in ONE document with the new Tabs function. Creating a new tab opens up a fresh document page but nests it under the original. It's so genius I'm geeking.

[lunaloveskpop23]

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Non-Idol Mingi x reader

Summary: The reader has been getting dreams of a man who seems familiar to the reader. What happens when the reader meets the man from her dreams??

Warnings: cuss words. A scene where someone dies.

Genre: Fluff. Angst.

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Y/N's POV:

"It's good to see you. You look lovely as ever." He smiles at me and I blush. He takes my hand and kisses it gently.

I notice his knight outfit.

"As always, for the princess of Aurora. As I, your trusty knight will always be your prote-"

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

I shot up out of my bed. I turn off my alarm and run to my paints and canvases. I start painting. I put my earbuds in so I can focus.

For the past few months, I have been getting dreams of a man I don't know. He danced with me. He walks with me. I saw him fight people. It was today when I got more. Who is he? Who is the Princess of Aurora?

"Are you painting again?" I take my earbuds out and look up. I see my friend Maddie.

"Yeah, I had another dream last night." I say.

Maddie looks at my painting.

"Is this the guy you tell me about?" She asks.

"Yes. He's apparently a knight for a Princess Aurora."

"Princess Aurora? Did he look at you when he said this?" Maddie asks.

"Yes......The weird thing is......he smiled at me like he knew me..." I said.

"That is weird. I wonder if he is someone you made up in your head."

I sigh sadly and I set my paints down. I get up.

"I have to get to the gallery soon. I just wanted to paint what I saw in my dream. Are you showing art to any tourists today?"

"Just a family, couple, and a rich guy with two of his friends."

"Rich guy?" I ask her.

"Yeah, some rich guy who buys art." Maddie tells me and I nod.

I get into my head, and I can't stop thinking about the knight....

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"So, then Hoseok in Busan painted something new for us, and it will be here next Thursday." Hongjoong, the director of the art museum, tells me.

"Ok, sounds go-"

"Y/N! Someone wants to buy one of your pieces!" Jongho runs in and tells me.

"What?!" I run out, and I see Maddie talking to two people.

"What the hell is going on?!" I yell.

"Y/N! Do you remember the rich guy I told you about?! Apparently, he wants to buy your painting." Maddie tells me.

"Ma'am.." I turn and see a man with long black hair, with a black suit. A guy next to him who has pushed back black hair with a suit on.

"We are terribly sorry, Mingi is a man who wants certain artworks. He loves paintings and art. I'm sorry for causing you problems and trouble. I'm Seonghwa. This is San. If you want, come to this address tomorrow, and you can discuss things with Mingi." He gives me a paper with an address.

I look up at him and I nod.

"Ok, I'll come, but I'm not promising any paintings." I say with a grumpy tone.

"I understand completely. Just talk to him, and I'm sure you two will come to an agreement." Seonghwa says calmly and with a sweet tone.

I sigh and nod.

"Ok."

Seonghwa smiles and him and San leaves. I couldn't believe what just happened....

"So you're meeting him tomorrow?" I look at Maddie and I look back at the address.

"I guess I will..."

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I was in another dream, and I was crying. Why am I crying?

"My princess....are you ok?"

I look up at the knight and I shake my head. He grabs my face gently and wipes the tear away from my eyes.

"They shouldn't have made you get engaged to that asshole. He doesn't deserve you." He says to me.

Engaged? To whom?

"Why can't I marry for love? Why must a princess marry for titles...." I say. Why am I saying this??

"I wish I could help you, my princess." He hugs me.

I hug him tightly and snuggle into him. Why am I being so snuggly to him?

He pulls away and looks into my eyes. He caresses my cheek gently and brings my face close to hi-

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

I shot up out of bed again. Blushing like crazy. He almost kissed me??!! What the hell?! I stand up and look at my phone.

Wait........SHIT THE MEETING IS TODAY!

I run to the closet and change into an outfit. I put on shoes and makeup. I run downstairs and grab my keys. I ran to my car and I drove to the building where the address was on the paper. I park and go inside.

I walk up to the woman at the front desk.

"Hello! Do you have an appointment?" She says smiling at me.

"I hope so. My name is Y/N L/N and I am here to meet with Mingi." I tell her.

She types on her computer and nods.

"You are 10 minutes early, but perfect timing. Take the elevator and go to the 15th floor. His office will be on the far right." She tells me and I nod.

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome." I walk away and click the button for the elevator. It immediately opens. I walk in and click to the button to the 15th floor. A man runs in and he's out of breath.

"Shit, I hope he doesn't kill me." He says and the elevator closes. He looks at his watch and smiles.

"Thank god. 10 minutes early." He breathes deeply and looks at me.

"Who are you? I never seen you in the office before."

"Oh, I'm Y/N L/N."

He looks at me with wide eyes.

"The artist?! Holy shit. I'm Yunho. I am a big fan. Let me guess, Mingi wanted to buy a painting and you are here to tell him no." Yunho says.

I look at him like he's crazy.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, this isn't the first time this has happened. Like this one time, he bought a painting of a castle, and the artist was pissed, but he somehow smoothly got the painting and paid the artist so much."

"Well, I am not selling my artwork at all. Wait castle? A castle painting?"

"Well, I hope he listens and yeah it was a castle. It was a castle in a place.....what was the name of it again.....it started with an A...."

I look at him with wide eyes.

"Is it Aurora..??" I ask.

"Yes! Aurora! That's the name! I do not know why he wanted it. He said it was because it was important to him..."

Why does Mingi want a painting of the castle from Aurora?

The doors open and he lets me go first.

"Have a wonderful meeting with Mingi, Ms. L/N!" He says and runs off.

I start walking and find his office. Song Mingi. That's his name. I knock on the door. I heard a deep voice that sounded so familiar to me.

"It's open." He says.

I open and I see.....wait....is that....the knight?!

I stood and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He looks up from his computer. He smiles at me and gets up.

I close the door and I get closer to him.

"Well, it seems we meet again....princess." He walks closer to me.

"You....you were in my dream.....you are... well were..."

"Yes. I was a knight. In a life before this one. In Aurora. But in that other life....we um....knew each other in another life.....you were a princess...I was your knight.....back then.....we were close. I was in love with you. And you were in love with me, but your parents arranged a marriage that broke your heart and mine. And I stopped the wedding.....but.....the guy fought me for your hand and....I lost because of his sword and died in your arms."

*in the life before this one*

"My love....I'm sorry." Mingi says.

"No....no I can't lose you....I can't....you're my knight. My love. My heart. I can't..." I cried and held him close to me.

"I promise we will see each other again." He says softly and his eyes close.

*back into the present*

I look at him. I was starting to get images in my head of me and Mingi's past life. Us taking a walk together. Us dancing at a ball. Him kissing me. Him fighting for me. Him dying in my arms.

"When you were at the gallery.......how did you know it was me?"

"I went to the gallery before. I know Hongjoong. He's Seonghwa's husband. I saw you. But you didn't see me. I wanted to see you again at the gallery and decided to buy a painting of yours. Though I wasn't actually able to buy it, but this meeting was mostly so we can meet." He rambles.

I look at him.

"You did all of this, just so we can meet?" I ask.

Mingi blushes and nods.

I blush and smile.

"So um....I guess we could get some coffee and catch up after all this time."

He smiles at me.

"I would like that."

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Hi pookies!! First Mingi done!! Next Mingi is coming along too! I am excited to write it. And then the supernatural stories will come. Halloweenish. I hope you all will enjoy them and enjoy this!! Have a wonderful day!

- Luna 🩷💜

[joker-and-the-queen]

“Stop writing aroace characters as villains! They’re not evil!”

Okay, but have you considered that I am the evil aroace??

[witchyvibes91]

Lesson Learned | Mattheo Riddle Fic

Summary: You and Mattheo Riddle are not friends, not in the least. After he misses a tutoring session that you were supposed to host for him, you confront him. He'll learn his lesson one way or another.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+, smut, chars 18+, PIV, MDNI, rough sex, dirty talk, dom and sub, spanking, choking, fingering, oral, its Mattheo riddle expect the worst best

Mattheo Riddle was by all means a complete and total jerk. Some could have blamed it on his upbringing. Others could have blamed it on the fact that he was never shown any other way except to be an asshole. The explanation behind his actions didn’t matter at this point. He pissed me off.

My fingers drummed against the table in the library. A small round table in the back corner was graced carefully with sunlight from the stained glass window to the left. I rested my chin on my other hand as I glanced at the walkway. He was one hour and fifty-eight minutes late. Two more minutes and I would leave.

When the clock hit one on the dot, I grabbed my books and scooted out from my chair. Tutoring Mattheo Riddle was turning out to be a joke. I told Professor McGonagall that it wouldn’t do any good but she assured me he would show up. Two hours of waiting and an impossible headache that wouldn’t go away proved that point wrong. 

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard a laugh. That damn laugh that seemed to be infectious to just about anyone else except me. I turned the corner to see Matt laughing with Blaise. The two were blissfully unaware of anything around them—living in their world of pretentiousness and big heads. 

Normally I would just leave it. I wasn’t one for confrontation but I had enough of no one ever holding Mattheo accountable for his actions. I started towards the duo, my shoes clacking on the stone floor as I grew closer and closer. 

“Mattheo Riddle you absolute twat!” I shouted louder than I had anticipated. He was not ready for this sort of conversation either as he turned with wide eyes. Blaise, still with that stupid grin on his face, held his hands up sarcastically and let his eyes wander to mine.

“What’s gotten into you?” Matt asked as if we were on a friends basis as if he knew how my normal demeanor was. I could have slapped the surprised look right off of his face.

“Here,” I slammed the books into his chest while pieces of my hair flew around my face, “since you didn’t want to show up for the tutoring session, you can teach yourself.” My eyes shot up to him and I saw the realization hit his face.

“Fuck. That was today?” He asked while holding onto the books with just one arm. Blaise slowly lowered his hands and, for some reason, his still standing beside us was pissing me off. Fuck. Everything was pissing me off right now.

“Two hours ago. Well, two hours and–” I glanced at my watch on my wrist, “nine minutes, to be exact.” 

The corner of Mattheo’s lip tucked just a touch into a most obnoxious smirk. My eyes squinted amid thoughts of whether or not it was worth detention for using depulso to send him flying across the castle. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like that. It’s not like you had other plans anyway.” He snarked as Blaise covered his mouth to laugh. I put both hands on Mattheo’s arms and pushed him heavily, though he barely moved an inch. 

“You are the worst person to have ever walked this castle, Mattheo Riddle. You’re obnoxious and pretentious, you don’t care about anyone but yourself! You–” I was quickly cut off when Mattheo dropped the books to the floor. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me into a nearby room. It seemed like a storage closet. There wasn’t much space as Matt pushed me up against the back wall. The door slammed behind him and I watched his already dark eyes seem to darken just a touch more.

“What is your problem, Y/n? Causing an entire scene in front of everyone?” He asked through gritted teeth. My eyes rolled heavily and I let out the most annoyed scoff.

“Since when do you care about causing scenes?” I quizzed with my arms crossing over my chest. He took a step closer, closing the gap between us. One large palm slapped against the wall behind me, just next to my now tilted head which forced me to stare up at him.

“I don’t. But I know you do. I was just looking out for you, little Raven.” Mattheo whispered, his warm breath gracing my cheek with his face growing closer. My eyes danced around his, noticing the tiniest bit of sparkle in them. Was that always there?

“You’re such a jerk,” I muttered before ducking under his arm. I made my way to the door knowing I had to get out of there. I was feeling claustrophobic and it wasn’t the small space. It was the person I was locked in there with.

My hand reached for the doorknob and I turned it but it wouldn’t budge. I pushed again, thinking perhaps it was just stuck as these old castle doors often did, but nothing. I pushed it a few more times before letting my hand bang on the door.

“What’s wrong, Raven? Can’t open a little door?” Mattheo asked in that smug tone he knew how to use so well. There was a feeling of tension in the air as I felt the presence of being watched. I knew his eyes were on me but I wouldn’t dare look. 

“It’s locked. It won’t open.” I barked back all the while making sure to keep my eyes on the door. Matt walked over, shoving me aside carefully. He proceeded to try and open the door. Nothing. His eyebrows furrowed while he went from one to two hands on the knob jiggling it roughly. 

“You two need to work this out!” A voice shouted from the other side. Blaise?

“Blaise, mate, what the fuck?” Mattheo squawked back, confirming my suspicion of it being Blaise. He was jiggling the door rougher than ever before and my eyes seemed to notice the way the muscles in his arms flexed through his sleeves, the veins sticking out strong along his hands. Since when was Mattheo Riddle so…toned? 

“No use, Riddle. There’s a locking charm. It’ll go off in one hour. Have fun!” Blaise, the ever-clever prankster, shouted before we heard the sound of receding footsteps. I was locked in a storage closet with the one person I couldn’t stand the most in this entire castle for a whole hour. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

Matt finally let go of the doorknob. He took a small step backward and ran his hand through his curly locks. There was something about a man tousling his hair but fuck, why did it have to be Mattheo Riddle of all people? 

“Seems we’re stuck here, little Raven.” He said through an exasperated sigh. That damn nickname. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to despise it but for some reason, coming out of his mouth, it didn’t bother me. The fact that it didn’t bother me should have worried me and yet I was all too intrigued. 

Mattheo started to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt and slowly rolled the sleeves up inch by inch. My eyes locked onto those arms again. The muscles were even more obvious without the cover of the material. 

I must have stared a bit too long. Maybe it was the vigorous design of his arms or the way his sleeves were now resting alluringly against his elbows. Whatever it was, it seemed to catch the attention of Mattheo. 

“I know there isn’t much to look at in this tiny closet but, I must say, Raven, I’m flattered you chose to stare at me.” 

Merlin. The audacity of this man—so ostentatiously assuming that I wanted to stare at him. There was an annoyance arising in me but it was tumbling with another feeling, a separate one that I had never quite felt before. At least not with Mattheo Riddle.

“You’re right, there is not much to look at in here, but you are no work of art either, Riddle.” I snapped back, still standing in my defensive stance. Mattheo tucked his hands into his pockets and took a single footstep towards me. 

“You’re funny, Raven,” he took another step towards me, “because I don’t think you find me unattractive at all.”

Another step. Slowly, carefully making our distance smaller.

“I-is that so?” I stuttered through a heavy breath. Another step. One single foot after another.

“Oh, very much so. In fact,” three more steps and he would be just in front of me, “I think you find me…”

One.

“...very…”

Two.

“...very…”

Three.

“...attractive.” 

Mattheo Riddle was vain. He was arrogant. He was so incredibly conceited. But fuck. He was hot. As much as I tried to deny it, I couldn’t any longer. Perhaps there was always a thought of how cute he was. No, not cute. Diabolically good-looking. 

“I, well, I mean–” Fuck. I couldn’t even talk. I knew Matt had that effect on women but I never would have guessed it for myself. I could always handle myself well around him. I bantered and chewed him out. Hell, I even cussed at him when needed. But I never lost my words around him. At least, not until now. 

There was no more distance left to run. No more space to fight away the fleeting feelings of something more. Mattheo reached out, taking his pointer finger and ever so carefully pushing it under my chin. He tilted my face slowly as if he was toying with the meal he was about to devour any second now. 

“What’s wrong, little Raven? Can’t speak?” He husked, the pools of the darkest brown pulling me into those alluring eyes. There was a heat rising within me. I was but a pile of sticks and Mattheo was a burning flame–oh was that flame growing? 

My eyes danced a tempestuous dance, feeling his finger push even more into my skin. The single touch was enough to send pulsating flames blazing across my entire body. His face snaked its way towards mine, his lips nearly grazing my lips. A single brush and that would be it for me. I knew it. And Mattheo did too. 

“It’s alright. We don’t need words,” his lips were centimeters from mine, “only moans.” 

“But you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you, Raven. I’ve never hated you.” 

“What? But…but the arguments? The fights?” 

“And I’ve got you right where I want you. Worked, didn’t it?” 

There was a smugness to Mattheo’s confession. It was toxic and yet here I stood, waiting for the tiniest drop of his taste, his flavor that would hopefully dance across my tongue. He knew what he was doing and he did it well–too fucking well. 

It was only seconds later that Mattheo pressed his lips to mine. My world was irrevocably different the second we kissed. There was no going back to our previous selves. I wasn’t sure what the future would hold but this kiss was going to change everything.

This kiss seemed to be one full of desire, and hunger. There was a deep-rooted need to ravish me that I was completely unaware of. How long had this desire been growing inside of Mattheo? For all I knew, it could be days, weeks, months. Little did I know–it was years. 

His hands traced my sides and moved their way down to my hips. I felt his nails dig into the waistband of my skirt. My neatly tucked-in shirt grew messier by the second. I prided myself on presentation but at this moment, presentation didn’t matter in the least.

“Gods, you taste fucking heavenly,” Mattheo growled into the kiss. The kiss was rough. Extremely rough. It was just lips pressing together. It was biting. Tasting. Mattheo had an insatiable desire to eat up every last inch of me. 

“You taste even better.” I whimpered back, not even sure what I was admitting. Had I wanted this? Sure, I found Mattheo attractive. Anyone with eyes could see that. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was I never, ever saw myself kissing Mattheo Riddle. I never saw myself wanting to do more than just kissing him and yet, I wasn’t stopping it. 

“Don’t argue with me.” He snapped into my mouth. His tongue pushed its way to mine, twirling and tangling together. His nails dug deeper into my hips and the pain mixed with pleasure was something I never knew I would enjoy. I was discovering a lot of things about myself within this one steamy kiss.

“Do you want me to stop?” Mattheo asked suddenly, the words sending a shock through my veins. Stop? Why the fuck would I want this to stop? “Because if you don’t stop me now, I’m not going to be able to stop soon enough.” He answered as if he could read my mind. He pulled apart for just a moment. There was no hesitation on my part.

“Don’t stop.” 

With that, lips collided again. But it went further. His hands got a decent grip on my hips as he lifted me and slammed me onto the desk behind me. My hands wrapped around his neck while I hung on tightly to him. 

This was moving quickly, something that didn’t exactly surprise me with Mattheo. It wasn’t my first time. It definitely wasn’t his. But something was enticing about this, exciting. It’s a completely new level of fun fucking someone you despise. 

I wasn’t even sure where this was coming from. Years of tension building up perhaps. The insatiable desire to bicker and argue and push one another away until we just cannot stand it anymore. That was where we were at. The edge of the cliff and there was only one thing left to do: jump. So I jumped. 

Mattheo’s hands moved from my hips to my thighs. There wasn’t a single thing this man did gently. Every touch, every movement was rough. It was as if he was deprived of air and I was the oxygen he needed to survive. His hands slapped hard against my thighs, pushing them apart wide enough so he could stand between them.

I felt his fingers push up against the drenched material of my panties. The single touch alone was enough to draw a moan from my lips. I swore I heard Mattheo growl in response. He moved his fingers in circles, teasing me as his lips stayed locked against mine.

“Don’t you dare ever say you hate me again,” he demanded as he slid my panties aside, dragging his fingers across my soaked slit until he hit that already swollen bud, “not when you get this fucking excited for me.” 

“Whatever you say, Riddle.” I moaned through heavy breaths. A smirk grew on Mattheo’s face. He slid his fingers inside of me, curling them to an unfathomable rhythm that filled me with instant pleasure. Fuck. He knew what the fuck he was doing. 

My hands moved to the edge to the edge of the desk as I gripped it tightly. My knuckles were turning white as I held on for dear life. Mattheo started to pump his fingers now, building an unendurable amount of pressure inside of me.

His free hand snaked up to my throat and he wrapped around it with force. It caught me by surprise, the sudden domination. He pulled my head until our foreheads were touching all while keeping his fingers moving at a sensual pace.

“It’s Daddy to you, Princess.” He growled as his dark eyes glowed with a sense of authority. I wasn’t in control here. He was. He was very, very much in control here. I simply nodded my head before I felt his hands squeeze a bit tighter around my neck.

“Is that a yes, little Raven?” He asked, no, roared at me. I could hardly feel the air in my lungs as I searched for the right words.

“Yes, daddy.” I finally responded before feeling Mattheo pull his fingers out of me. The instant feeling of emptiness left me with an overwhelming ache for more. I needed to be filled, used, absolutely fucking destroyed. I was crumbling beneath his power and he knew it. 

Mattheo moved his fingers to my lips, dragging them across the softness of my bottom lip. He pulled my bottom lip down a bit as he stared at his fingers and the glistening of my wetness. 

“Open. Now.” He declared and I did. I had never wanted to be so controlled in my life. I was a lump of clay and Mattheo was an artist, spinning me and forming me until I was something of substance–something worth looking at. 

He moved his fingers into my mouth and dragged them across my tongue as he forced me to taste myself. There was a sweetness to it. I tasted every last drop until his fingers were completely out of my mouth. He moved his hand to the collar of my shirt, dancing his finger back and forth for a moment.

“Ready for more?” He asked and I didn’t even get a chance to respond. I pulled his finger hard down to my first button causing a rippling effect of all buttons flying off. My chest was exposed my dark blue bra with the little bronze-colored bow in the middle now on full display.

Mattheo leered as he traced his finger from my belly button up to my bra, tapping the dangling little bow, “How very Raven of you.” 

“Shut up,” I finally quipped, taking him by surprise a bit. He squeezed my throat a bit tighter as he pulled me closer to the edge of the desk. 

“‘I’m going to destroy you until you are a beautiful fucking mess.” 

The words weren’t just a suggestion. Or a promise. They were a threat and I didn’t take that lightly. I was finally finding my courage, the courage to make sure this event was memorable for both of us. I leaned up and wrapped my hand around his wrist. My eyes locked with his, pulling him in, taunting him.

“I’d like to see you try,” I growled back at him. That was it. That was enough to send him over the edge. The sex we were about to have was going to be full of hate but also passion. The fucking passion. It was untouched. 

Mattheo moved his hand from my throat and quickly grabbed both straps of my bra. He ripped them down until my breasts were out, perky, and bouncing for him. He slammed me back against the desk and let the exposed part of my back touch the cold wood. My shirt was now hanging around my elbows but open in the front. Matt pushed his tongue just at the edge of my skirt and slowly, carefully dragged it across my entire body.

When he made it to my nipples, he teased them with little circles. He flicked his tongue over them one by one until finally sucking and hard. His teeth left love bites until he found his way up to my lips once more.

“You’re in for it now, little Raven.” He whispered before hearing the sound of his pants unzipping. He quickly pulled off his shirt and before I knew it he was completely nude. His entire body was on display now and fuck what a body it was. So toned. So muscular. The strength he had was completely unmatched. 

He grabbed my waist and pulled me off the desk. His hand reached for my skirt and he tugged it off along with my panties in one swipe. He reached his hand behind me and pulled my body right up against his. He quickly undid my bra with one single movement from a single hand. It fell to the floor and I felt the anticipation of what was to come next beating inside my chest.

“Turn around and bend over,” Mattheo instructed with devious eyes, “now.” 

That was all it took. My thirty seconds of courageous and bratty behavior was out the door. I turned around and bent across the desk. Matt walked behind me, taking one single knuckle and dragging it along my spine until he reached my ass. He raised his hand and slapped it hard against one cheek, instantly welting it. 

“That’s for demanding me…” 

He raised it again, smacking in the same spot so that the pain was even stronger this time around. 

“...that’s for taunting me…” 

He raised it once more, this time smacking the other cheek and hard. Everything stung but there was a weird sense of pleasure mixed with the pain–a tug-of-war between torment and indulgence. 

“...and that, well Princess, that’s just because I can.” 

I could only take two shaking breaths before I felt the head of his massive length slam into me. He pushed hard, giving no warning as a yelp escaped my lips. I wasn’t prepared for this. Not in the least. But, God, I was enjoying it.

Mattheo started to thrust hard as his nails dug into the skin of my hips. They were leaving marks, something I would look at in the days to come with pride. His skin slapped hard against mine as he hit new levels of pleasure for me.

“Fuck–that, that feels….fuck!” I shouted, not even sure what I was trying to say. I felt Mattheo wrap my hair around his hand as he yanked my head back so that our eyes could meet.

“Use your words, little Raven.” He growled at me all while never stopping the constant thrusting. The immense amount of pressure was building until it was about to burst right out of me. 

“You feel…fucking…amazing.” I finally managed to breathe out as I gripped the desk even tighter. Mattheo yanked my hair harder so that I was now standing up. He wrapped his free hand around me, pressing hard against my lower stomach.

“You feel that pressure, don’t you Princess?” He asked through a whisper into my ear. My breath was shuttering with each movement. I could hardly think of a single word let alone form sentences. His stamina was remarkable as he never dropped his pace once. 

“Y-yes. I-I…fuck…I do.” I finally managed to say before his hand pushed even harder against my lower stomach. The feelings I had were completely overwhelming. I felt tears pricking my eyes from the beautiful blending of pleasure and pain that Mattheo seemed to do so well. 

Mattheo moved his free hand from my stomach down to my drenched slit. He easily found that swollen bud, doing little circles on it as he continued pounding into me senselessly. His hand kept a tight grip on my hair, making sure I stayed in just this position for as long as he wanted me to. 

“Don’t you dare finish yet, got it?” He demanded, moving his fingers even faster. Fuck. How could I not? But I didn’t dare disobey. He was bringing out the submissive behavior in me and I was surprised. Absolutely fucking love it, but surprised nonetheless.

“Yes, Daddy.” I used that nickname he demanded I use before biting the inside of my cheek. My legs were shaking. Fuck, my whole body was shaking. I couldn’t hold off much longer but I had to. I was letting myself crumble to the tiniest of crumbs in his hands.

“P-please. I-I’m so…fuck…I’m so c-close.” I started to plead, begging for that sweet release. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his lips going straight to my ear as he nibbled on the lobe for a second. 

“Too fucking bad.” 

Fuck.

I was in for it. I had to give every single ounce of my patience to not finish. If ever there was a time for resilience, God, let it be now. As much as I enjoyed pissing off Mattheo Riddle, this was not one of those times. 

I moaned loudly, letting out screams from the intense sensation. I wanted to finish. God, I wanted to finish. But I didn’t, not yet anyway. I arched my back a bit more as his fingers picked up speed from the circles he was doing on me. 

“You can cum on three…” I heard him say while feeling his fingers push a bit more into my clit. I was so ready to explode. 

“One…two…three.” At that last one, I let it happen. I released every bit that I was holding back and hit the most intense orgasm of my life. Juices flowed freely from me, dripping from his length down the side of my legs.

I thought that was all that would happen. Sure, Mattheo would finish, but this was the end. Or so I thought. Matt pulled out of me and spun me around, his hand releasing from my hair as he did. He quickly grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in for a few more steamy kisses. He walked me back to the desk, slamming me onto it once more.

“Do that again.” He demanded as he sat me against the desk. He slapped my thighs open and quickly inserted himself. His free hand once again went back to my now over-sensitive clit as he started to do those same motions again.

“Matt! Fuck–I, I can’t!” I screamed, my body jerking and shivering from the profuse sensation of being overstimulated. I gripped his arms, holding myself as he didn’t dare to stop. 

“Yes you can, Princess. Do it again.” He husked as he spoke out his deepest desires. There was no stopping this. I would just have to push through the sensitivity and finish. I bit my bottom lip, a mistake on my part.

Mattheo reached up, grabbing my cheeks with one hand as he forced my face to his. He offered a darkened look, still pounding into me as if he had the stamina of a God. 

“I want to hear those sweet moans. Don’t you dare muffle yourself.” 

How could one man bring out the deepest levels of submissiveness from a single girl? I undid my lip bite as I started to moan for him. Not forcing myself, but simply from the amount of pleasure that was growing. The second orgasm seemed to hit faster than the first.

I didn’t even get a warning this time. My screams and the second round of juices that flowed freely around us were the only signals Matt received that I had finished once more. He finally pulled out, taking a few steps back as he smirked at the mess he had just created.

“Good girl. Now,” he pointed to the ground, “get over here and clean up your mess.” 

I wanted to rest. Fuck, I needed to rest. But there was no resting with Mattheo Riddle. I climbed from the desk, legs wobbling as if I were a baby deer learning to walk for the first time, and crawled onto the floor before him.

His length glistened with me, coated with all of the pleasure he had caused from the deepest parts of myself. I took one hand, wrapping it around his base before gliding my tongue over his entire shaft.

He groaned, letting his hand make its way to the back of my head as he started to push me down onto him. I wrapped my lips around and bobbed my head. His length alone was enough to bruise the back of my throat and that’s exactly what he would do.

“Look at you, taking all of me like a good little dirty slut.” He degraded, pushing my head deeper as he started to thrust his hips as well. 

His words. His actions. God, this man was something else. I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t care that my throat would be sore for days. I didn’t care that tears were streaming down my face. All that mattered was him and his pleasure. 

“Make sure to swallow every last drip, got it?” He questioned before thrusting even harder. My body was but a toy for him to use and this wouldn’t be the last time. Not after how things went today. 

He thrust a few more times before finally hitting his sweet release. I let his cum coat my throat, a sensational feeling after practically destroying it. I made sure to lick every last drop before he finally let go of my head.

“Are you alright, little Raven?” He asked as he helped me up. Mattheo went from dominant, and demanding to somehow sweet. He helped me clean up and helped me dress. And we spent the rest of the time in the closet talking. Laughing. 

When the door finally opened, we saw Blaise standing there with crossed arms. Mattheo and I both had smiles on our faces and that was the first thing Blaise seemed to notice.

“Did you two have fun in here?” He asked as his eyes scanned our demeanor. Matt and I both looked at the desk before letting out loud laughs together. 

“We did.” 

“So you two are going to get along now? No more bickering?” 

Matt looked at me with a longing look. It was a look that seemed to say this wasn’t over. I felt a blush crawl across my cheeks before hearing his final words.

“Lesson learned, mate. Lesson learned.”

[nightmare-angel-ao3]

So, I am working on a fanfiction idea that involves the Reader suffering from Agoraphobia, or the fear of Going Outside.

[icurushasfallen]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Poolverine Day 7, 8, and 9 are done!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[cannedkopi]

Sooooo, it is done! The first chapter of my vineyard / winemaker Anthony AU "Walking Blind" is officially up on AO3 😁

Enjoy!

[sagegarnish]

🦀 Kudos Crab 🦀

If you are scrolling and see Kudos Crab, your fics will be blessed!

You will get good comments and kudos!

You will beat your writers block!

GO AND WRITE!

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[dicklessthewonderclown]

nothing will ever amaze me the way fanfiction authors do. like, you wrote silly little stories about my favorite little guys? and i can read them?? for free??? that’s fucking wild.

you poured your heart and soul and very being into your writing and then put it out there for anyone to read? insane.

you spend a truly incredible amount of time writing novel-length, high quality stories, again, FOR FREE, that anyone can read, again, FOR FREE??

shoutout to every single fic author in existence, you guys are fucking incredible and i love all of you so much

[i-will-write]

man if I gotta write bad fics, it should at least be easy! But it’s not! It is also hard to write this bad fic

[coiled-dragon]

Im just feeling a certain way rn

[excarow]

Everytime ao3 is down I'm reminded of two things:

One is that humans have and always will love telling stories, and they will continue to do so even if there is no benefit to telling these stories, but simply because we love creating things

The other is that a concerning amount of us use fanfiction as an extreme form of escapism that we can't function without and we should probably look into that

[aberrantcreature]

The secret wish is to write a fanfic that someone loves so much they make fan art of it, or to create a drawing that someone creates an entire fic based off of it.