#i read a really good fic........ the images in my head... so vivid...

[holographings]

srry to textpost on main but im currently supposed to be working on a few more illustrations for my first comic promo exhibition, what is for all intents and purposes my biggest achievement yet as an artist,, and yet all i can think about is drawing old dreamworks cartoon yaoi. prometheus has absolutely nothing to complain about when the pull of gay 2003 cartoons wasn't even pecking on his brain for all eternity

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

10 Jikook Fanfictions Part 1

I said I'd make a list before the end of the year and I kept my promise. Now, it's difficult to choose, especially when I have more than 300 bookmarks and unfortunately I also started doing that some year and a half ago. Safe to say, there's probably plenty of good fics I read that are now lost. Anyway, enough with the boring chit chat, here's 10 random jikook fics in no particular order and most likely, several other parts will follow, probably next year 😉

1. Dead in the Water

It's been a couple of years since I read this and honestly, I barely remember much, but what I do know it's that it had an impact on me. Usually fics that have death as a central theme end up resonating with me, but perhaps it's because I've always been attracted to more darker fiction. This one is gritty and there's a lot of pain and I must have cried a lot (those tend to stick in my head)

2. we're holding hands beneath the silver screen

I think this story is taking place in the 90s (you'll see that a lot of the fics I recommend are taking place in the past). I think I ended up reading everything ChimneyCricket wrote, but this one remained a favorite. Coming of age during a summer in Jeju in the 90s. Apart from the theme, it's the writing that made me stick with it.

I'm not the biggest fan of young adult stories. Or better yet, it's not something that I'd go to as a preference. When I do, it's more of an indulgence and thankfully, I found some writers (like this one) who can do a really good job with the genre.

3. Stockwell

Another writer that I've become a big fan of after reading one fic of theirs. And I think it might have been Stockwell that did it for me. I like that it's fanfiction with adult themes for an adult audience. And I also resonate with a lot of the cultural references and themes. I will also admit that this fic leaning into the enemies to lovers trope was a selling point because I'm a sucker for it. I can't help myself.

4. Burn for You

This is a complete self indulgence for me and I embrace it. Just like watching Bridgerton is a guilty pleasure for which I don't actually feel guilty (and the inspo for this fic). This story has everything and I must say the combination of lust, fear of revealing feelings, rumors, proper behavior and hidden romance is a lethal combination!

5. Light of a century

I might have recommended this story before, but it being inspired by Up on Poppy Hill is not just due to the plot, but the writing is able to evoke that studio Ghibli mood. This fic is to be read on a hot weekend afternoon.

6. Map of the Soul

This might be one of the most complex fanfictions I read due to the amount of research needed, but also in the depiction of political contexts and identity politics. Most of all, I like it because as much as relationships are a vital part of the story, there is an entire world surrounding the main characters. Events and other people that have also room to develop and not just remain props that advance the story.

7. Proceed with Caution

I don't know what snatchim did with this fic, but it's the only one I ever reread multiple times and I'll probably do it again in the future. I don't even reread books from my library, let alone fanfics. But Proceed with Caution did it for me. Perhaps it's because of the process of Jungkook inevitably falling for Jimin and even though it's a bad thing considering the context, it's so good. Maybe it's the image of Jimin with a bellybutton ring or maybe because the picture of hot Californian days in the 70s is so vivid, it feels like a nostalgic Paul Thomas Anderson movie.

8. Dishwater World They Said Was Lemonade

The description does not do this story justice because it's so much more than that. It's a canon compliant thriller with really complicated and complex characters and once again, a story meant for adults who understand that it's fiction. Unfortunately, judging by the comment section, a lot of people cannot distinguish betweem real people and characters. For those of you who might be fans of Korean thrillers, this story might be the one for you. It's also one of my favorite jikook fics as well.

9. souvlaki

Need I say more, considering the description? This is a self indulgence as well, but of a different kind. If I happily read tropey fics, I also like the ones that can sound like a uni course. Set during the 1997 FMI crisis in SK, any reader will get familiar with a socioeconomic and political perspective of that time through the eyes of the main characters. If you're only looking for romance, this one is not for you.

10. you wouldn't remember

I think littleflumes might be currently my favorite writer of canon compliant jikook. I think the author really captured their dynamic in its essence and the room left for fiction perfectly fills in the holes left in the last 2 years and up until the present. But what did it for me, not only with this story, but the others in the series as well, is that it's concentrated almost entirely on the two main characters, almost living in a bubble of their own in which their relationship can be explored.

[dinitride-art]

Au fics that i think are neat and that i want to compile into a list because im trying to figure out how to comment on a chapter of a fic but i need time to sort out my thoughts (usually for fic recs i try to rec fics with less kudos/engagement because reasons but im just gonna throw everything in this list. probably multiple fics by the same author in the same universe because thats the one im trying to sort out my thoughts on.)

the strawberries are dying by eggowlss - historical fiction and very interesting character relationships and also character exploration within the time period. I really like this one because the pacing and tone are very gentle. There’s a srt of ebb and flow to the story that makes both the time period and the characters really fit into it. idk how to describe it i just like it a lot.

in the quiet of the night (acswy ao3 series) - they’re putting those characters in situations. It’s a very good time. 10/10 do recommend. If you haven't heard of this one though, it’s basically a modern au where everyone works at a summer camp and Mike and Will cause problems for themselves, each other, and usually everyone else around them. 

si vis amari, ama by perexcri - demons and angels and heaven and hell and its honestly just one hell of a story. like ive got vivid images in my head of scenes i imagined when reading this. 

you start to kiss (and the record skips) by eclipseadventure - this is a band au with a side of a secret relationship and im a sucker for secret relationships. a bit of drama/high stakes in here too which is always pretty fun. 

End Racism on the OTW! - you and me and the horrible teenaged ghost who keeps eviscerating himself in our apartment makes three by TheWrongKindOfPC - i am also a sucker for buzzfeed unsolved aus. buzzfeed unsolved, hauntings, ghosts, yknow the fun stuff. 

into the daylight by andiwriteordie - THIS IS NOT THE FIRST ONE, it’s just the first one that came up in my bookmarks. anyways, this is the second fic in a fantasy au series. The worldbuilding is really cool and there’s magic and history and politics and i like it a lot. the most recent chapter is spinning around in my mind.

the heartbreak prince by andiwriteordie - THIS IS THE FIRST ONE. 

beneath these boughs, my devotion blooms by perexcri - this is the fic that nearly killed me. i literally cant summarize it because im still recovering from what happened to me when i read it. Did i read it in april? Maybe. Listen, it had me asking questions about things i had never considered before. its 11k but im pretty sure it took me a good few hours to read because it made me think about it so much. again, ive got a bunch of visuals running through my head. its just... so much.

sweetheart, you're so cruel by perexcri - Mike’s in a band, Will’s a music snob, they’re both contemplating their life choices. very fun, very interesting, also made me think about some things. 

keep it hush by wiseatom - theres an amusement park and the horrors of customer service. and some other stuff but basically its pretty bright (the visuals of the fic in my head are bright- like sun glinting off metal- and idk how else to describe it)

the start of an age by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - this ones funny and serious at times and its got Max in it. fantasy au with prince will and knight mike and a secret relationship and a small scheme between three parties that involves a fake (ish) marriage. 

superhero therapy by silverluminoqity - spiderman au with a side of trauma and healing? it’s complicated theres stuff happening, i had a good time reading it. 

you've got this spell on me by andiwriteordie - this one was really fun. basically its a fantasy au theres magic and mike gets himself hit with a spell that makes him fall in love with will and will freaks out about it for a while.

Daydream by disaster_energy - i really really liked this fic. its a fantasy au and its got gods and stuff and will gets chosen by the moon goddess because hes Will and everyone is like... woah.

takes one to know one by andiwriteordie - i also liked this one a lot, its a superhero au and its got ironic (like... dramatic irony- i think is what im talking about? maybe? but like fun irony) secret identities. 

Love goes 'round by evil_ontheinside - conversations in a laundry mat. mikes flopping (as in, flopping around like a fish) around a bit and this was pretty cute. 

my promise could be your fiend (could be the smallest of signs) by s0ld_it - spider man au, theres a bookstore involved and a lot of stuff. ive read this fic twice and greatly enjoyed it both times. 

Tip-toeing on Lily-pads by cherryisgone - very very fun, fantasy au and... mike gets cursed to be a frog. can only be un-cursed with a kiss. 

filling in the blanks as we go by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - bookstore meetcute

there’s more but i spent all day painting my room and i am tired. Ive also got way too many bookmarks to go through and i have decided to stop here. still haven't figured out how to write that comment (but i am working on it because i love the fi(s) and ive been thinking about one specific thing that came up in a new chapter for so long). anyways, i hope someone enjoys this list of au fics from my bookmarks. 

[natashasnoodle]

Hi! How are you? I hope ur doing well. I would like to request a Natasha x f!reader fic.

Where nat and r are into each other but are oblivious about it. like they’d even sext each other like it’s normal. But both are scared to do anything about it but more so for nat because nat is scared of not ever being good enough for anyone and r is scared that no one would want her because she’s the quiet, shy but sweet and thoughtful kind of person but also really clingy and r even thinks she’s annoying and is afraid that the woman she loves would leave her because of that. Plz make it fluffy/comfort? My gay heart can’t handle angst 🥺

Experience | Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Natasha isn't the best at trying to date people, the lack of practice can make her come across in a way she didn't mean to, and now she's gotta try and fix it on the spot.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The sounds of old book pages turning, and scraping against each other filled the room as you read an old book that was picked up at a second-hand books fair, the edges of the pages tinged brown from years of use and love. As vivid imagery of armour-clad warriors riding horseback across fields and empires filled your head, the modern-day texting tone quickly drew you out of it. 

Heart skipping a beat, you saw it was Natasha. Making sure to put a bookmark in the book, your teeth found your bottom lip as you picked up your phone, getting ready to reply to - hopefully - yet another flirtatious text. When hoping to date someone you hoped for a bit more substance in the initial messages, but Natasha seemed to always message things that got you hot and bothered, both with texts and images, and you doing the same in return. 

After confirming that it was yet another flirty message, her telling you what she would love to be doing right now, your cheeks and ears went red as a tingling feeling went through your hands, the small anxiety-adrenaline spike causing your breathing to pick up a bit as you typed out a reply that you hoped would get her just as flustered as you are now. 

Though you doubted it. You were a mess with most things, someone could compliment your shoes and you would think about planning out a life with them. But Natasha was Natasha. She owned every space that she walked into. She owned everyone that she talked to. Just by looking at someone she could make them do anything. You thought that even if you had a tenth of the amount of confidence Natasha seemed to have that you would be able to command the cosmos. 

But alas, Natasha was a Black Widow, and you compared yourself more or less to some kind of wet fish. You possessed a sensitive nature, a kind soul that was often looked past. You needed someone with emotional availability to nurture you, so that you in turn could use your beautiful soul to nurture them. However, a lot of people were not like that. Many dates and situationships these days tend to end with someone getting bored, whilst the other person still feels attached and feeling clingy to someone that doesn’t even like them anymore. 

Which is why you were taking this situation with Natasha cautiously. You’d been burnt in the past, and the plan was to not be burnt again any time soon. Fingers tapping away on the screen of the phone whilst your foot tapped to a rhythm in your head, the flirting continued. She only lived a few doors down in your apartment building, so you didn’t quite understand why it felt like some kind of long-distance situation. But Natasha never really hinted at actually meeting up and doing the thing she talked about doing in person.

Some insecurities got the better of you. You knew that you were rather clingy in a relationship, not in an unhealthy way, but enjoying telling each other about the mundane things that have happened in the day, good morning and goodnight texts, wanting to see each other as often as possible, whilst also giving each other a bit of space. But some people didn’t like that style of relationship, and they had let you know that they didn’t with no space to read inbetween the lines. 

This carried on to now. You had wanted to suggest that you and Natasha go a step further and actually try a date, but you didn’t want her to think of you as clingy. Especially because she seemed so nonchalant about everything. You imagined that she was probably sat in her apartment replying to your texts right now without even a change in her heart rate. 

You supposed that instead of wanting this to actually go anywhere, Natasha was just looking to do something to pass her time. Biting your nails whilst waiting for a response, you also supposed that she probably had multiple women to text right now, whereas you were just being pathetic and clinging onto this one person, in hopes that this woman, who in your eyes was way out of your league, would actually like you back. 

One of your legs was pulled up to your chest as the other stretched out on your bed, staring down at your phone next to you, open on the chat as you waited to hear back from Natasha after a bit of a risqué text that was most certainly out of character for you. But instead of a quick and even more loaded response as you expected, you were met with being left on delivered. Sure, it had only been a few moments of the “read at 10:47pm” receipt sitting under your message, but every second felt like a millenia as you sat waiting for a response. 

Any response would do, especially as she was usually so quick to reply during your heated conversations. But still, nothing came through for at least five minutes. The bedroom window was open, meaning that you weren’t feeling the heat of your embarrassed blush as much as you normally would, but still, your body felt hotter and your lips were pursed as you felt yourself fill with embarrassment. 

It wasn’t as though you could just ignore Natasha’s presence if she did end up ghosting you, you lived in the same god damned building on the same god damned floor. Elevator interactions were bound to occur, and you would likely just spend the entire time staring at your shoes to avoid eye contact with the absolute goddess standing next to you. 

Fingers tapped your bedsheets as you got lost in thought, until the familiar vibration of your phone made you look back down instead of staring at a wall. A picture in response. A small sigh escaped your parted lips, you craved more substance in your interactions with her, not that the photos didn’t go completely unappreciated. But still - you wanted a conversation. 

Heaving yourself up from your bed with shaky legs, your feet planted firmly onto the soft rug of your bedroom before moving into the bathroom, one hand holding your phone and the other lifting the bottom of your shirt over your head. 

---

Across the hall, Natasha eagerly awaited your message, a small, shy smile resting on her lips as she braced herself for the inevitable notification sound. When it did, her lips parted and her pupils dilated. Oh so desperately did she want to march across the hall and actually talk to you. But the mighty Black Widow was scared.

She didn’t have the strongest grip on her emotions, and you were the sweetest thing. Kind to everyone, excited about the little things in life. To her, you were just magical, and she told herself that she didn’t deserve you. So, she kept to having you from a distance. In a way, she felt that you were hers. She knew that whilst she had you like this that you wouldn’t go to anyone else. It was selfish, she knew that. But she couldn’t bring herself to remedy the situation and put on a brave face. 

Instead, she sent some crude comment back to the photo that you had sent, giving you enough tether to stay but not enough to say that she was being vulnerable and showing how she really felt. Your response was eager, but she could sense the disappointment behind it. You wanted something real, and she was just giving you crumbs. 

In Natasha’s eyes she felt as though she didn’t deserve anything real. She’d never done this before. She’d never liked someone before. It scared her. So, her guard was up. She felt as though she’d just eventually hurt you, not fully realising she was inadvertently hurting you already. 

Another photo was sent from her phone, she had spent time making sure it looked good, wanting to put in some form of effort. But this time you didn’t reply. The read receipt was just stuck on “read at 11:31pm”, and ten minutes later there was no sign of a reply. Her heart hammered as she stared at her phone. “Fuck”, she mumbled under her breath as she redressed herself, feeling completely mortified. 

Perhaps there was a chance that you were in the midst of replying? Perhaps you were struggling with lighting or angles? So, she waited anxiously, playing with the strings of her comfy sweatpants, mumbling some reassurances to herself, telling herself that a reply would indeed come. 

Twenty-five minutes later a message did not come. Humiliated, Natasha lay under her covers, staring at her phone that was on charge on her bedside table, quickly grasping at her phone whenever a notification popped up, none of them messages. Some were from Uber Eats, one was even from the Google Photos app telling her some photo rotation suggestions. She felt like rotating her phone out of a window at that one. 

She didn’t know what to do, she liked you so bad, so bad that it almost hurt. But she was stuck. She was way out of her comfort zone. But then, she had never really had a comfort zone, so she bit the bullet. Scrambling out of bed she hurried across her apartment and out into the hall. Within merely a few seconds she was outside of the apartment door, her eyes tracing over the metal numbers ‘265’ screwed onto the door. 

She let out a deep breath before knocking, and then immediately panicking at realising it was now midnight and that was a completely inappropriate time to be knocking on someone’s door. But she thought that you were likely awake as you had been frequently messaging her into the early hours of the morning. 

Her chest rose rapidly, and before she had time to hide behind the potted plant down the hall, you opened the door, features etched with confusion before paling slightly at seeing Natasha at your door, thinking she was here to potentially aggressively confront you about ghosting her photo, which was possibly a dick move but you were tired of those types of interactions. 

“Hey…”, Natasha spoke, her voice in a slightly higher register than usual. A small nod and a smile was your response. 

“Um, I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary with our messages”, Natasha gulped, one leg holding more of her weight than the other, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”.

“Oh”, your eyes widened a little, seeing Natasha actually looking a bit vulnerable as though she wanted to actually talk about something for once. The soft cotton of your hoodie sleeves were in between your fingers, awkwardly playing with it whilst trying to think of words to say. Natasha’s presence was enough to make you flustered. “No, it’s okay. It’s just that type of thing isn’t usually my thing, until I started talking to you anyway, so I guess I just got a little overwhelmed”. 

Natasha nodded in understanding, her eyes looking right into yours, seeing them dim in sadness a bit as you spoke your next line, “I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, I don’t get why I can’t just do what you do on text so easily, it just freaks me out sometimes”. 

“No, I get it. I’m not a big fan either, I just thought that was the only way to do all of… this. I’m a bit new to this and I don’t exactly know what I’m doing. So, again, I’m sorry”. 

This time it was your turn to nod in understanding, “I’m a bit useless at this thing too, don’t worry about it”. There was some awkward silence, both of your feet moving a little on the carpet, shuffling the weight from one side of your bodies to the other just to have something to do. “...How about we start over?”, you suggested, a timid edge to your voice, still convinced that Natasha didn’t like like you. 

The way her eyes lit up spoke on the contrary, and made your heart flutter slightly, as cliché as it sounds. “I’d love that actually… so you want actual conversations, and maybe like an actual date?”. You nodded and smiled, excitement coursing through your veins. She actually liked you. 

As you yawned, Natasha remembered the time, and bid you goodnight, telling you she would text you tomorrow to arrange that date, to which you happily agreed with. And so, she headed back home to bed, and you got back into yours, too excited to sleep but resting your eyes. 

As Natasha hopped into her own bed, she let out a happy little squeal that she swore to herself that she would never, ever do again. She was still absolutely terrified of messing up in her first dating escapade, but she wanted to live, she wanted to experience, and you seemed like a pretty great thing to experience. 

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist <3

Taglist:@fxckmiup @itsdoni @rob1nbuckl3ys @teenagedramaqueenlisa @r0binscript

Natasha Romanoff Taglist:@diaryoflife @unlady-like-12-25-36 @doveromanoff @unstablekay @arcturusseer

[miguelswifey04]

Can I request a fic of Miguel O’Hara with Spider![Reader] [Female] (the two are not in an established relationship yet, but pining for each other) who is reading fanfics of him she found from one of her missions back on another Earth?

[Reader] trying to be discreet, reading probably a smut based on O’Hara and thought she was safe, but somehow he caught her.

it’s giving gwen pool 🙊 but this is such a cool CONCEPT 🎢

summary: miguel finds you reading fanfics of him that you picked up from another earth on an interdimensional mission…what will you do? better yet, how will he react??

as you swung through the bustling streets of Nueva York, you couldn't help but feel a lingering warmth in your heart whenever you thought about Miguel O'Hara. the intelligent and enigmatic hero known as Spider-Man 2099 had captured your admiration and, truth be told, your heart. you had stumbled upon some fascinating fanfiction about him during one of your interdimensional missions. it had become your secret indulgence, a way to live out your daydreams, and explore the possibility of a connection between the two. you hid this away from miguel—he does not know you’re reading comics and even fanfics of him that you’ve stumbled upon on earth 1213; where superheroes and villains don’t exist.

one evening, after an exhausting night of crime-fighting, you settled into your hidden corner high above the city. you reached into your utility belt and pulled out your tablet, navigating to the folder where you stored the fanfics you had discovered. a sly smile touched your lips as you began scrolling through the different titles and the enticing summaries of each story.

“let’s see what adventures await our Spider-Man of the future," you murmured to yourself as you selected a fanfic called "Shadows of Desire." (i can’t imagine being so delulu)

with bated breath, you immersed yourself in the imaginative world created by the talented fanfic author. the story cleverly entwined miguel’s adventures with a thrilling romantic subplot, igniting sparks of longing within your own heart.

as you read, you found yourself transported to a place where you and miguel shared intense glances, heart-pounding battles, and whispered confessions under the neon lights of their futuristic city. the author's words painted vivid images in your mind, fueling your imagination and making you yearn for a deeper connection with the hero who had stolen your heart.

page after page, you devoured the fanfic, feeling the tug of emotions and desires build within you. you couldn't help but wonder if their universe-hopping encounters were more than mere chance, if there was a deeper connection waiting to be explored. you were consumed by the fanfic you were reading of your mission partner, miguel, that miguel tracked your location. he appeared behind you but all your senses were desensitized by being so in the zone. miguel was stunned to see that you were reading fanfics of him that you picked up from earth 1213.

“i heard a little bird told me you've been reading fanfiction about me from another earth," miguel would say, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "care to share your findings? i’m quite curious to see what people can imagine about my adventures,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

you felt your heart drop to your stomach…you were caught and this was probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever experienced. you stood up quickly as you clutched the tablet onto your chest and turned around to face him. his hands were placed on his hips as he tilted his head waiting for you to say something. you had to admit to yourself you couldn’t really defend what you were reading was good—it was kind of off-putting that you are reading a fanfic from some other earth about miguel o’hara. miguel took in your nervous frame and chuckled lightly. he felt a swirl of emotions but nonetheless he was curious to hear what your excuse was.

“i-i can explain. i- was just curious, and—i picked it up from earth 1213,” your breaths were coming in short as you tried to compose yourself, “i know it’s weird but i couldn’t help but read what these writers wrote about you.” miguel chuckled as he shook his head. “jeez, you were that curious, huh?” you were surprise miguel was being sarcastic and not giving you an earful of your guilty pleasure.

“yes. i was that curious.” you hung your head low and gulped nervously. you didn’t know what to say after but feel super embarrassed and ashamed. he actually encouraged you to open up, embracing the opportunity to delve into those creative stories that you read. he was pretty curious about them too. anyone would of you found a fanfic written about you. miguel would have a sense of humor about it, acknowledging the creative liberties taken in the tales while appreciating the underlying admiration and fascination that inspired them.

miguel poked fun of you for what you’ve been reading behind his back as he found it pretty hilarious. but you knew miguel would never let this go at all…though he was willing to keep this between you two. miguel felt prideful in a sense that you were reading these so-called fanfics about him and he couldn’t help but feel his cheeks flush a bit. yeah, you were his partner and what not but that didn’t mean he didn’t like you. you both have been pining for one another without realizing your true feelings for each other. hopefully, this incident brought you two closer and who knows maybe you both can become more than partners in missions.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Oooh, can we get a directory’s commentary on the Blind Starscream AU and the Starscream Knitting AU? I know they are small AUs, but I enjoy rereading them from time to time. Plus they involve my favorite (troubled) Seeker. Also maybe one for Broken Record too because that one was just so gosh darn good! Please and Thank you!

I got you! I love giving my thoughts on the writing! Also I seriously adore the Starscream knitting AU and I have fun with the Blind Starscream AU too. I just ran out of ways to continue them. Any ideas for them would be gladly accepted :3

Blind Starscream

It was born of a request, and honestly I wasn't the most enthused with it because I had no plot to give the AU. It was a concept game rather than a story for me. Not a bad thing from time to time, but I like having a story to follow to write for. However with that said, it is a fun one and I recall having a great time thinking about how frickin funny it must be to watch Optimus yeet water at Screamer because he's scared of the bugger.

Extra tidbit about this AU: Starscream actually thinks its super funny to pretend he can see, but ONLY around ST3V3 the Vehicon. Starscream will act as though he can see perfectly and stare with lightless optics right into the Vehicon's visor. ST3V3 is terrified, but not a spark believes him when he says Starscream can see and absolutely can end their lives. Well, they believe the second part, but most don't question Starscream's blindness.

Starscream Knitting

It has been a VERY long time since I last looked at this AU. I hardly remember where it began, but I know it was made when I still didn't know how to format anything in visually pleasing and rational way. I don't go back and read my old work for a reason. (lll￢ω￢)

That said, I have had one image in my head since I learned about how running a small business works. Starscream, with stupidly colorful packaging, slowly and carefully getting every package done with his giant frickin claws. Oh! And those nails are absolutely manicured so that he can take videos and pretend he's just a really stylish knitter. He will never admit he enjoys his claws being painted a vivid red.

He secretly watches manicure videos online and asks Knockout to do him up every now and then.

Broken Record

Oh boy. The emotions were STRONG with this fic. It was the week before midterms and I was STRESSING. So of course I gave my baby some trauma to make me feel better. I was actually at work most of the time while writing Broken Record. I listened to City of the Dead on repeat the whole bloody time because it set the mood. No escape. No victory. No hope. Only loss.

Tidbit about Smokey in this fic: He did absolutely everything under the sun to make things work, and while not shown super closely in the fic because I enjoy being somewhat sane, he had a DEEP relationship with the team. He came to see Arcee as a sister in a sense. He adored her and looked up to her for many long loops before he had to pull away and then grew to see how badly her grief was hurting her. He wasn't the closest with Bulkhead and Wheeljack, but he shared many long nights alongside them, talking about the slightly happier aspects of war. Bumblebee he saw as a brother and eventually a ward as time dragged on. As he matured, he felt the need to watch over the scout, just as Optimus did. This was never fully expressed in the fic, but if given the chance, Smokescreen would take up a parental mantle if only to honor the fallen. He was especially close with Ratchet, that with the medic being the closest mech he ever had to a father.

Surprising right? You would think he's see Optimus that way. However he can't see Optimus like that. In his optics, Optimus is like a ghost. He learns from the mech, but Optimus is a strange thing for Smokescreen. A living dead mech. As much as Smokescreen bonded to the Prime, it was all a very solemn thing. But him and Ratchet? He loves Ratchet as a son would his father. Ratchet was always there for him, always offering comfort instead of the cold conformation of loss that Optimus gave. I didn't have enough time to write it, but I really wanted a scene where Ratchet tucked Smokescreen in after a long day and even managed to get the truth from him. I wanted to write one loop where Ratchet knew, and all he could do was hold Smokescreen's servo and weep as the loop came to an end.

Another tidbit: I fully intend to write a prequel with Orion and his trial. And let me tell you, what I have envisioned is ROUGH. It will take me a hot minute to write I think, simply because writing Broken Record required me to have a VERY off mental state to make it happen. However when I write it, let me say now that Orion Pax will have no frame of reference and do far worse things than Smokescreen in an attempt to get out. There could have been other ways to get out, but after so long? He just wanted to be free, no matter the harm it caused to Megatron at the Council chambers.

[tessatales]

Is That What You Think? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey! This is a quick Song Fic because I’ve had this song on repeat and I had a vivid image of several of the marvel crews reaction to hearing Reader sing this song. I picked one character to write for rather than a ‘Marvel character react’ kinda post (did that make sense?)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Theme: Comfort, Bucky helps, words of encouragement, you can read this as a mutual pining/love story or as a platonic friendship (up to you lovely’s)

Warnings: non really, swearing (mainly in the lyrics) negative self image.

*Bucky’s POV*

‘I don't go out much

'Cause parties are too much

And I don't need any more judgement’

Bucky didn’t make a habit of listening in to people singing in their room, but something about the lyrics mixed with the emotion in Y/N voice made him pause.

With trained silence, Bucky crept closer to the door, stoping when the muffled sounds through Y/N’s bedroom door became clearer.

‘So, you keep your gossip

You're cool and you're toxic

Already got someone who does it’

Bucky went to knock on the door, only to have his hand dangling in mid air as the door creaked open with the first tap. Through the now ajar door, Bucky watched as Y/N continued to sing, their large headphones deafening them to their visitors knocking.

‘It's me, and that voice in my head

Telling me that I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

More than me, myself and I

Well, go ahead and try’

Better off dead? Bucky thought, his body going still with the shock of the statement. Backing away from the door, the ex assassin took a deep breath as he felt the wall make contact with his back.

‘If you talk to me like I talk to myself

I'd give you the finger, I'd say, "Go to hell"

You can be mean, make it sing pretty well

But you can't say shit I don't say to myself’

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Bucky whispered as he moved slowly away from Y/N’s door.

‘Yes Mr Barnes?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y whispered back, the female voice so close that if the person existed, they’d of been right beside Bucky.

“How do I find that song?” Bucky asked, his voice returning to normal as he entered his rooms.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was silent for a moment.

“I could get the song up for you Mr Barnes. Or you could listening to it via Y/N’s public playlist” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied.

Bucky thought for a moment, before taking his headphones from the stand by his bed.

“Send it to my headphones please”

“Of course Mr Barnes” F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed.

*A few hours later*

‘I wish you could hurt me

So maybe when I bleed

I could blame somebody else

But she's sick and she's twisted

A bit masochistic

There's no point in calling for help’

As the chorus played again, Bucky made another note in his journal, his handwriting barely legible, as he scribbled to keep up with his own thoughts.

‘Like you're useless, you're stupid

You're hard to love

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked

If you talk to me, like I talk to myself

I talk to myself’

Bucky paused the song, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he re-read the lyrics he’d noted down. Useless? Stupid? Hard to love?

“How can you think this about yourself Doll?” Bucky asked the silent room, his heart thrumming against his chest uneasily. With a sigh, he pressed play, hoping the song didn’t get any worse.

‘It's me

Yeah, that voice in my head telling me

That I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die’

As the chorus played for the final time, Bucky could hardly see, his eye a blur as he read and re-read everything he’d written in his tiny black book. The Winter Solider sat motionless and unseeing for a moment, allowing himself to process everything he’d heard before reaching for the red pen he kept spare on his nightstand and getting to work.

*Your POV*

“Whoever’s knocking on my door at 1 am better have a good reason!” You shout as you stumble sleepily to your bedroom door. After a particularly turbulent mental health day, you’d hoped the extra sleep would help prepare you for a better tomorrow, but apparently the person at your door didn’t care about your beauty sleep.

“Who- Bucky?” Stunned at the Winter Soldiers presence, you stop your angry rant before it comes. Bucky looks disheveled in your doorway, the weak hallway light barely hiding the messy hair and stress lines on his face.

“Who died?” You asked, only half joking. Bucky didn’t blink, only stepping forward to envelop you in a hug. You hadn’t realised how ally you’d needed one until you’d felt his arms cross your body firmly, holding you tightly against him as you felt your legs buckle slightly.

‘We love you Y/N” Bucky whispers into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead before letting you go.

“Of course i do, why are you saying that?” You replied, frowning at the man in front of you.

“We all don’t say it enough. Here” Bucky said, handing you what seemed to be several pages from his notebook.

“What?” You said, barely getting the word out before Bucky walked away.

“Read it” was all he said as he retreated back down the hall. Closing the door, you stared at the tiny bundle of notes in your hand, confusion shaking you fully awake.

Sitting on your bed, you unravelled the notes, looking at each page scrawled with black and red writing. Some of the writing was almost eligible; although it only took you a few moments to realise what you were looking at.

The song

You could see it now, the lyrics you’d woken up with playing in your head; letting you know that today was not going to be a good day to be in your own head. But something was different.

You could see the original lyrics, all of them scribbled in deep black ink but it was the red notes on the side that crisscrossed between the margins of the song.

Like you’re useless, you’re stupid What a ridiculous statement!

You're hard to love Bullshit! We love you, I love you.

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked If i could climb into your head and tell you how all of this is totally wrong, i would. But I’m not asking Stark or that ant dude about the science of that.

Further down, where the lyrics talked about death, your breath hitched at what Bucky had wrote.

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die.

How long have you felt this way? Do you feel this way all the time? Or just sometimes? Why don’t you come to us? Why don’t you come to me? You know we’d be here for you. You are loved, you are smart. You couldn’t be hard to love if you tried! Please read these notes when you need them. Please don’t suffer alone. We’re here. - Bucky.

It was the little red heart scrawled next to his name that broke the dam inside. Your tears spilling over until they spilled onto the page. You dabbed at the paper quickly, stopping the liquid before it distorted the only below.

‘Thank you’ you whispered into the darkness. You’d express your thanks, your love and your gratitude in the morning, but right now, all you wanted to fall asleep to was the deep red letters etched on the paper in front of you.

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn’t sure really how to end this one- you know when you get a half baker idea but it just won’t go away until your write it down? Yeah that was this story- yet no matter how much I though- the rest of the story wouldn’t bake! So apart from that, I hope you guys enjoyed this little story- I hope to make some more one shot fics soon

[fallatyourfeet]

Every Single Second (Thomas Shelby x Reader) One-shot

Word count: 1388

Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, threats, violence against women. Both Tommy and reader are injured.

A/N: Full disclosure. I know what a whump fic is, but I have never written one before. Nor have I ever really sought them out to read. So I really hope this qualifies. Sorry anon, if it doesn't. I tried my best.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

You remembered every single second. Every fucking one. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. You were always told that the moments before and during traumatic events, were lost to the dark and forgotten regions of your mind. Locked away. At least, until your body had time to heal. To come back to you, slowly and sporadically in flashes of hazy images. But no. Every second of that night replayed with vivid horrifying clarity, every time you closed your eyes in the cold hard bed of the hospital. And you guessed from the way Tommy woke up screaming out your name, that he remembered every fucking second too.  

It had been the perfect evening. Good food, good wine and the undivided attention of the man you loved. It had been a trying couple of months. Tommy had been distracted and absent, both physically, and when he was home, emotionally too. It was not an unusual thing, you had grown accustom; albeit reluctantly, to the ebbs and flows of Tommy’s behaviour. You understood it, knew the pressures and stress and dangers his ambitions created through every facet of his life. But you put up with it. Not only because you loved him, but because you knew he loved you. And you knew, with your help and patience, the distraction and emotional distance, would pass. He would always find his way back to you. And that night was the end of a very frustrating stretch of weeks.  

Tommy had come home that afternoon with a smile. Slipping a pearl necklace from his jacket, he handed it to you, kissing you softly as he whispered against your ear. “I’ve made reservations at your favourite restaurant.” Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his watch, and after a quick glance, he added, “That gives us just over an hour.” Looking back to you, his blue eyes spoke without need of words, telling you exactly how he wanted to spend the majority of that time. But just in case you weren’t listening, his fingertips moved to the buttons of your blouse, while his teeth nibbled at your ear; it was torture of the most blissful kind. And the rest of the evening unfolded in an equally glorious way, from the second he walked through the door, until the moment the car reached the lonely road leading home, the night had been perfection. 

Tommy drove with his eyes trained to either one of two places, the road ahead, or you; struggling to keep his gaze from your features. You could see it... he was happy, your joy was his joy; and he didn’t want to look away. That’s why you were the one to notice it first. Heading towards the intersection just a few hundred yards from your driveway, you first heard the distant hum of an engine. Sitting up a little straighter, you searched the road around you, quickly catching Tommy’s attention. But the moonless sky made it impossible to see anything beyond the car's headlights... that was until you neared the intersection.  

The light spilled just far enough to catch sight of a lorry barrelling towards the car... its own headlights switched off. Speeding towards Tommy. It was going to hit his door, and it was too late to stop it. With your body angled towards him, you felt every muscle stiffen, your back pushing against the glass window of the door behind you... and yet, you spoke with surprising calm, “Speed up Tommy, floor it. Now.” Seeing your alarm, Tommy didn’t hesitate, his foot hitting the accelerator hard. But it wasn’t quite enough. The lorry clipped the back, the impact sending the car into the air, rolling and crashing across the ground, before finally stopping on its roof. 

Blood. So much blood. You didn’t even know if any of it was yours. But one look at Tommy ripped all the air from your struggling lungs, stealing any ability to scream. Thrown free of his seat, he was stuck halfway through the broken windscreen, his body lying bleeding and motionless across a bed of broken glass. And his head, his poor head, even in your shocked condition and terrible light, you could tell it was battered and already bruising. Anywhere but his poor head. It was already compromised, fragile; Father Hughes had seen to that. Panic ripped through you, stripping away your shock and the numbness it provided, every inch of you crying out in silent screams of pain. It felt like every bone was broken. Biting down, you tried to ignore the searing pain and dragged yourself towards him. With a gentle hand, you rubbed his shoulder, too scared to shake, worried you could cause more damage, “Tommy... Tommy. Please wake up.” 

Incoherent mumbles slipped through his lips as he fought to open his eyes, blinking weakly in an effort to see though the blood running freely from a deep wound above his brow. They were rolling around in his head, unable to focus on you, but his mumbles were getting clearer, even though they were just a string of random words, “Be. Are you? It's not. Gun.” 

“Shhh, Tommy, you’re concussed. Keep your eyes on me... Look at me Tommy.” With the sleeve of your dress, you wiped the blood from his eyes, as he still struggled to focus on you. Screaming, you called out into the darkness, “Help... Somebody help us, please.” Where was that fucking lorry driver? You could still hear the running engine somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t see a thing, as you too, dealt with a stream of blood flowing from somewhere amongst your hair.  

In answer to your plea, you heard footsteps crunching through the gravel of the road, followed by a voice. It was threatening and menacing, far from offering the assistance Tommy so desperately needed. “Help? You want me to help you and your bastard husband?” Crouching down, the man’s face was covered in shadows and besides his London accent, you could make out no other distinguishing features. “What happened here, lovey, was no accident.” Tommy was in a bad state, but still, the threat in the man’s voice did not evade him. Struggling to move, his panic was evident, as he feebly tried to push you away, to shield you from the man. But he was too groggy and far too injured. With weak blood-stained hands, he grabbed at his jacket, but his fingers wouldn’t co-operate, only managing to bring himself to the attention of the shadowed face.  

That’s when you saw it, the glint of Tommy’s pistol in the halter under his jacket, the sight of it abruptly pushing a stupid thought into your head. It was silly, you knew that, but you couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Ignoring the pain, you threw yourself towards Tommy, hoping to reach the pistol before the man did. But he was too quick. In one single movement, he swiped it from Tommy’s halter and struck your temple with the hilt. The impact knocked you backwards, leaving you dazed, but somehow, conscious. You knew that because of the tormented sound that escaped Tommy’s mouth. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the pistol struck him, his anguish and distress were unmistakable. Fighting to sit upright, Tommy was able to string a coherent sentence together, and though his voice was weak, it was also unhinged and savage, “Don’t you. Fucking. Touch her.” 

That was the moment relief flooded your body. A fleeting moment of relief that did not last long. In the distance came a set of headlights, barrelling towards you from the driveway of Arrow House, ruining the lorry drivers plans. Leaning into Tommy’s ear, he spoke in quiet tones, but every word reached you clearly, “You’re a lucky man, Mr Shelby. The crash didn’t kill you. And if that car wasn’t coming right now, I’d be unloading a bullet into your head.” Then grabbing a fistful of Tommy’s shirt, he lifted his head into the air, and smashed it back against the ground, sending Tommy back into darkness and ripping a horrified scream from your lungs. But not before he whispered his threat, making sure he was loud enough for the both of you to hear, “Next time though, neither you, or your bitch will be so lucky.”

[mylovelookup]

I am losing my mind over your art, it's breathtaking! I have also fallen in love with none tell us not and the way you capture them is incredible, just straight out of the story. Thank you for sharing your wonderful art with us 💕

Thank you! You're so kind for sending this ask but yeah, I'm just trying to cajole everyone to be as obsessed as I am with @follieaun 's fic (and saltburn in general) bc it' s really out of this world. I mean the material could be endless and I have all these images in my head I want to draw bc the fic is THAT good. The images that my brain conjures up whilst reading it are just so vivid and I'm going through some awful things in my life rn and this is an unbelievably good distraction. I wish it was a 300k word novel that I could carry to the grave, like it altered my brain chemstry the same way @justalilguyoops 's WIPIP did (the artworks mentioned in that fic!!!) I just want everyone to read it🥲🤧

*holds said fics like I'm holding Simba* everyone read them!!(please)

Again thank you soooo much for your kind words. It means the world to me that my art is well-appreciated and I thirst after good feedback like an eager puppy 🥺🥲

[kiwiana-writes]

HELLO :D AM HERE TO BOTHER YOU WITH QUESTIONS ‼️

(7 or 8, 14, 15, 28)

i hope you’re doing well!! 🥹🫶🏼

Well hello you! I'm doing well enough for a long weekend that's flown by far too fast lol ❤️

I just answered 8, so while I'm sure I could come up with another one, let's go with...

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Alex's sexuality musings from Puck It, aka the hockey boyfriend Henry fic:

Alex is aware that he might be bisexual in the same way he’s aware that he might be allergic to cats; there have been a few brief interactions to make him think it’s probably true, but so far it hasn’t had any impact on his life, so he hasn’t really had a reason to look into it and find out for sure. Now, faced with Henry’s clavicle and the sudden, vivid mental image of sinking his teeth into it, he’s not sure how theoretical it is anymore.

I'm just a slut for a good analogy and when I feel like I've nailed one I'm, like, cheering internally lol.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

I'll preface this by saying I definitely don't think it's the worst writing advice for everyone; in fact for some people it's probably exceptionally good writing advice. But no advice is one size fits all, and for me, the ongoing and at times very firm narrative that of COURSE your first draft will be complete dogshit and if you're not embarrassed to show it to people you don't have a good sense of your own work and blah blah blah REALLY fucked me up as a writer for a long time. Because that is just... not my experience. I write clean copy and do minimal editing because 90% of the time my first draft is the story I want to tell! And I got very much in my head about that particular piece of advice and how it must mean that I was a really shitty writer or just had no sense of good writing, if I was reading my first draft and thought it was good, you know? Turns out we all create differently and, spoiler alert, not all advice is helpful for all people. It took me a while to get there, though.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I mean. It's gotta be the actor AU, right??? It HAS to be.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Ugh, only three? This is cruel. This is, like, a fraction of a very long list.

Right.

@clottedcreamfudge - Has this particular flavour of "Alex is just ferally horny for Henry immediately' that I both adore and yearn to aspire to. Her college AUs are just so nice to lose myself in when I want to escape the bullshit in my own head for a little bit

@myheartalivewrites - Writes the richest, most gorgeous, completely fleshed out relationships between Alex and Henry, whether canon/post-canon or AU. Their love for each other just rings so true and I want to roll around in it.

@sparklepocalypse - Has this way of getting me a thousand percent on board with even the most off the wall pitches. Time-travelling threesome? Fucking sure. Henry as a cecaelia? Let's fucking go. Alex as a god? Nothing's ever made more sense, actually. One of those authors that could write literally anything and I'll be like "I don't know what I'm about to witness but I know I'll fucking love it".

[40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers]

[juless27]

I see you do Ronance fanfiction? I’m low key obsessed with sick fics and I haven’t been able to find a lot for Ronance. Do you know of any/would you want to maybe write one? I prefer one-shots, fluffy, and please have it be like any sickness besides covid. If you can’t, that’s perfectly okay but I thought I’d ask.

ok it's been freaking forever and im very sorry for the delay but here it is i hope you like it! (feel free to request fics in my asks if you want but keep in mind it will most likely take me a few weeks to finish)

read on AO3

Robin Buckley did not have the flu. Anyone who said otherwise was lying. Robin Buckley did not have the flu because she needed to keep going to work and she needed to keep going to school. She was so close to graduation and maybe, finally, getting the hell out of Hawkins if she could save up enough money. 

“Robin.”

“Yeah?” Robin’s voice was muffled by her stuffy nose. 

“Go. Home,” Steve told her, for probably the millionth time. 

“I can’t.”

“You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“Aw thanks for noticing, Harrington,” Robin replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Steve did his classic I’m-not-your-dad-but-I’m-about-to-act-like-it-because-it’s-my-love-language pose. Head tilted, hands on hips, eyebrows raised, legs shoulder width apart. Robin liked it better than his I’m-Steve-Harrington-and-all-the-ladies-want-me pose, but not by much. 

“Robin, you need to go home.”

“First of all,” Robin said, jumping off her usual perch on the counter and then groaning and clutching her head because that hurt, “you,” she pointed at Steve, “are not my mother or my boss. I don’t have to do what you say. Second of all, I need the money.”

Steve considered her for a second. A worrying light entered his eyes, as if he’s just had a really good idea. Robin braced herself. Then, “Okay.” And he turned back to the pile of returns he was sorting. 

That… was suspiciously easy. But Robin’s brain was too foggy to figure out why. “I’m taking my fifteen,” she said, heading for the back room. 

Steve waved a hand, “If you’re not back in twenty, I’m going to assume you died back there and I am not going to be the one to find your body.”

Robin bit back an insult involving the words “dick” and “wad” and the vivid image of her wailing her heart out over finding Steve’s dead body, should he happen to go before her. Which was incredibly likely. 

The couch in the break room was lumpy and covered in stains that should be studied by the goddamn government, but once Robin got Steve’s extra sweater from the cubby and laid it down to cover the petri dish that was the couch cushions, it was actually pretty comfortable. 

She slowly drifted off to sleep, the cadence of Steve’s voice talking to their first customer of the day lulling her like a lullaby. 

Hours or days or seconds later, Robin blinked awake to a hand on her shoulder. 

“Robin,” a soft voice said, and Robin’s eyes tried to focus on the source. There was a bright light and a shadow in front of it, creating a halo around the person’s head. 

“Oh my god. Steve was right. I’m dead.”

The voice laughed, “You’re not dead, babe. Not yet, anyway.”

Robin knew that laugh. Knew it because she chased after it every single day. Because every joke that passed her lips was for the sole purpose of hearing it, of seeing the radiant smile that came with it. 

“Can you repeat that part where you said I was right? I want to get it on tape,” said a voice that was unmistakably Steve’s. Robin ignored him. 

“Nancy?” Robin squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light, revealing two brunettes staring down at her, one with concern and one with a smug smirk that begged to be punched. 

“Yeah, hon. Now c’mon, let’s get you home,” Nancy helped her sit up and Robin’s eyes finally decided to work and she could see Nancy’s face somewhat clearly. Gorgeous brown curls, impossibly wide eyes filled with worry. That had Robin sitting up faster than she probably should have. The room spun but Robin ignored it. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that you have the flu. And since you refused to go home when I told you to, I had to call in the cavalry,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest. 

“The cavalry…” Robin repeated, “Meaning Nancy?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I just woke up so help me out here. Why did you call Nancy?”

“Because you listen to her. And you don’t listen to me,” Steve said, “And you need to go home and rest so I called Nancy to come pick you up and make sure you do.” 

“Uh-huh…” It might be time to admit she was sick. Her brain was impossibly foggy. A cool hand pressed to her forehead. 

“Jeez, Robin, you’re burning up,” Nancy said, leaning closer to peer into Robin’s eyes, which refused to focus on her. 

“Ugh, stop that. You’re making me dizzy. My eyes won’t focus.”

“But you’re fine, right?” Steve said smugly. 

“Okay, okay. I might be just a little bit… sick.”

Steve raised his hands victoriously. Robin would have rolled her eyes but she wasn’t sure she could do so without passing out. 

“I can’t leave, though. You’ll be alone out there.”

“Robin. Three people have come through that door today and they are all standing in this room. I’ll be fine,” Steve replied, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder, “Seriously. Go home and rest. I’ll bring you some soup later.” 

Nancy and Steve helped Robin up and then Nancy walked her to the door like an extremely awkward three legged race, considering Robin had a full head of height on her and was not doing a very good job of holding her own weight. 

“I’m holding you to that soup promise, Harrington!” Robin called over her shoulder as Nancy attempted to open the door and get them both through. 

Robin stumbled over the curb and nearly sent them both tumbling onto the cracked pavement. She squinted at the ground, “Someone needs to re-pave this.”

“I’ll alert the mayor,” Nancy said, leaving Robin leaning against the car as she unlocked the passenger door. “Alright, in you go.”  

She put a hand on the top of Robin’s head as Robin ducked into the car, “Aren’t you supposed to tell me my rights?”

“What?” Nancy said, baffled. Then, an eye roll. “You are not being arrested, Rob.”

“Well, you should arrest me.”

“Is that so?” Nancy asked, shoving Robin’s legs inside so she could close the door. 

“Yeah, because I’ve captured your heart.”

Nancy groaned and Robin laughed, then closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair because laughing hurt and thinking hurt and everything hurt. 

“Glad to see your dumbass sense of humor is still intact,” Nancy said, pretending to be annoyed but Robin opened her eyes just in time to catch the adorable blush that bloomed on Nancy’s cheeks as she shut the door. 

Nancy drove as smoothly and safely as she always did. As in, not at all. Looking at her, you’d think Nancy was the safest teenage driver in Hawkins. But looking at her you’d never know that Nancy Wheeler keeps guns in her shoeboxes and hunts interdimensional monsters and drives like it’s the Indy 500 (300?). Robin herself had fallen into that trap, and she feels endlessly lucky to be one of the few who get to know the real Nancy. Except for her driving, which made Robin fear for her life. 

Nancy takes Robin to the Wheelers’ place and Robin’s desire to lay down overpowers her hesitation and she lets Nancy haul her out of the car and into the house. 

“Nancy?” Karen called from the kitchen as they came in, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, mom, it’s me,” Nancy called back and, under her breath, “Who else would it be?”

Robin grinned. She always enjoyed her girlfriend’s snarky remarks when they were aimed at someone else. The trek up the stairs is one of great difficulty, involving many tangled limbs and bumps against the walls. 

“Nancy, what the hell are you doing?” Mike demanded, coming out of his room down the hall. 

“Hey, lil’ Wheeler,” Robin greeted. 

“Robin,” Mike looked her up and down, “You look awful.”

“Why thank you.”

“Go back in your room, asshole,” Nancy said, scowling, coming to Robin’s defense even against Mike’s very true comment. 

They finally made it through the door and into Nancy’s incredibly pink bedroom. At first sight, Robin had thought Nancy’s room was pink because duh, the princess of priss would have a pink room. Then, after getting to know Nancy, she thought maybe it was something her mom forced her into. One day she finally just outright asked: “Why is your room pink?” 

Nancy had looked up from her book, “Because I like pink.”

Over the months, first as friends and then as more, Robin had spent a lot of time in Nancy’s bedroom. Snoop that she was, she had touched nearly every trinket and item Nancy had, sometimes asking Nancy where they came from or why she had them. Seeing someone’s bedroom was Robin’s favorite way to get to know someone and Nancy was her favorite person to get to know. 

Nancy deposited Robin on her bed and bent down to untie Robin’s converse. Robin stared at the ceiling, which was beginning to spin in a truly nauseating way. She groaned and closed her eyes. 

“You okay, babe?” Nancy asked, slipping Robin’s second shoe off. 

“Spinning,” Robin mumbled, “Everything’s spinning.”

“Okay, sit up, c’mon,” Nancy grabbed Robin’s wrists and pulled her back into a sitting position. Nancy shucked off her Family Video vest, folded it neatly, and placed it on her desk chair, a stark contrast from the way Robin tossed it on her floor after every shift. 

Finally, Nancy tucked Robin into her bed and Robin immediately relaxed into the mattress, snuggled under the comforter and resting her head on a pillow that smelled like Nancy. And she promptly fell asleep. 

Nancy let herself watch for a moment. Reminded herself that she was Robin’s girlfriend now, that watching her girlfriend sleep when she’s sick is not weird. She’s allowed to do these kinds of things now. Robin lets her do these kinds of things. Robin likes when she does these things. She looked absolutely adorable asleep in Nancy’s bed, her face squished against the pillow and the comforter pulled up to her chin. She leaned forward and placed her hand against Robin’s forehead. She was burning up. Nancy wished she had managed to get a fever reducer in her before she fell asleep. 

Nancy set the half finished glass of water on her nightstand next to two Advil pills. She fished a post it note out of her desk drawer and wrote Robin a note: downstairs, making you soup. Don’t move. And take the medicine. - N

Maybe it was some sort of placebo effect, but chicken noodle soup always made Nancy feel better when she was sick. Who didn’t feel better after some warm soup? Besides, this was Nancy’s thing. Chicken noodle soup, simple as it was, was the one thing Karen had never mastered. Nancy was always the one who made soup for her younger siblings when they got sick. As much as she tried to fight it, her nuclear family upbringing had drilled into her that cooking was how a woman showed her love. Or maybe just generally taking care of people. Nancy had spent many many hours psychoanalyzing this tendency in herself, but eventually she concluded that she just liked taking care of people and left it at that. 

And Robin was her favorite person to take care of. It was so easy to make her happy. She would beam at her if Nancy so much as tied her shoelace. Every little thing was big to her and Nancy loved it. She finally felt appreciated. But that was a psychoanalysis for another day. 

She was just adding the noodles to the simmering pot when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She turned, expecting her mom or her brother, but only saw Robin. 

“Robin!” She rushed over to help her girlfriend sit at the counter, “Didn’t you read the note? I told you to stay in bed.”

“Yes, I did. And then I immediately decided to disobey it.”

Nancy tried to look at her disappointedly, but she knew Robin could see the twist of her lips hiding a smile. 

“Did you at least take the medicine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Robin offered a two finger salute, reminiscent of an old haunted house, a grandfather clock, a brick through a glass window. 

Nancy ladled the soup into a bowl and set it down in front of Robin, “Let it cool down for a second.”

Robin put down the spoon that was already halfway to her mouth. Nancy smirked, turning to lean back against the sink. 

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

Nancy shook her head, “I made it for you.”

Robin frowned, “You should eat. Taking care of me is hard work, you know. I’m a handful.” Sick as hell and still worrying about Nancy. 

Nancy smiled and filled a second bowl, “Oh, I know.”

They sat at the counter and sipped at their soup silently, both mutually looking over to make sure the other was eating. They took care of each other like that, Nancy supposed. When they were done Nancy placed their bowls in the sink and stepped behind Robin, wrapping her arms around Robin and resting her chin on her shoulder. 

“Wanna go back to bed?”

Robin shook her head. 

“You should get some sleep,” Nancy murmured. 

“And you shouldn’t be this close to me,” Robin countered, “I’m gonna get you sick.”

Nancy shrugged, “Don’t care. Cuddles are the best treatment for the flu, you know.”

Robin leaned back into her, “Oh, is that right?”

Nancy tucked her head into Robin’s shoulder, breathing in the honey sweet smell of her hair, “Mm hmm.”

“Well, I’ve heard the best treatment is having a movie marathon.”

Nancy pulled back to squint at her, assessing. Robin turned to look at her. 

“How about one movie, and then bed?”

Robin pretended to consider, “You drive a hard bargain, but I accept.”

They made their way into the living room and Robin flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. Nancy tucked a blanket around her before crossing the room to slide a tape into the VHS player, not needing to ask what Robin wanted to watch. The Princess Bride flashed across the screen in light blue and Robin clapped, as delighted as ever for the movie she had seen a thousand times. Nancy climbed over Robin and tucked herself between the back of the couch and her girlfriend, wrapping one arm around her like a seatbelt and stroking her hair with the other hand. Robin hummed contentedly. 

She fell asleep sometime between the shrieking eels and the cliffs of insanity, entirely missing her favorite moment (when the boat smacked against the rocks and bounced, clearly showing it was fake) and Nancy’s (the classic ‘as you wish!’ falling down the hill scene). After that she drifted in and out, dreaming of ROUSes and the Dread Pirate Roberts, feeling entirely secure with Nancy’s arm around her. 

When she woke up, it was dusk outside and Nancy was no longer behind her. She blinked awake blearily. The living room was softly illuminated by a single lamp and Nancy was sitting on the ground, back against the couch, surrounded by a circle of papers and photographs, working on a piece she refused to let Robin read until it was perfect. 

“Morning, sleepy head,” she said, affectionately, without turning around. 

“Mmph,” Robin responded. 

Nancy reached a hand up and Robin leaned forward without thinking, making her forehead more accessible. Nancy pressed a hand against it and nodded. 

“You feel a little cooler. How are you doing?”

Robin took a moment to assess. The room was certainly less spinny and her head wasn’t throbbing anymore. “A bit better, I think.”

“Good,” Nancy said, standing, “We should probably get you home.”

“Noooo!” Robin moaned dramatically, throwing a hand over her forehead like a damsel in distress.

Nancy laughed, “Yes. You’ll sleep better in your own bed.”

Robin reached up and took both of Nancy’s hands in hers. She stuck her bottom lip out and gave Nancy that look she could never refuse, “Pwease? Can I stay with you? Just for tonight?” 

Nancy pressed her lips together, but something in her eyes told Robin she had already won. “Fine. But just for tonight.”

Robin beamed. 

“Dinner and then bed,” Nancy said. 

“What? C’mon, Nance, it’s only like five o’clock.”

Nancy put on her I’m-in-charge-look that seriously rivaled Steve’s, “Alright, I’ll just get my keys then.” She pretended to look around, patting her pockets. 

“Okay, okay!” Robin gave in, “Dinner and bed sounds perfect.”

Dinner consisted of Mrs. Wheeler’s fantastic lasagna, followed by Nancy ushering her upstairs for bed. Robin brushed her teeth with the green toothbrush she left at the Wheelers’ and then changed into the sweats and tee Nancy had found in the drawer she had designated for Robin (which had been the cutest thing, Nancy blushing pink as she presented the empty drawer for Robin to keep some clothes in). Nancy made her drink more water and take more medicine and then tucked her into bed on Nancy’s usual side, with the better pillow. 

“Will you stay?” Robin asked, “You can keep the light on and read or whatever, if you want.”

Nancy smiled, “Of course.”

She left her lamp on, turning out the rest of the lights. Then she leaned over and kissed Robin’s temple, “Get some sleep, love.”

Robin hummed in response, eyes falling closed, “Read to me?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too,” And then she began to read, “ ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…’”

[thechaseofspades]

For the ask game

First off, I love the image you chose for this. I can always count on you to come up with something new and unique.

Anyway, on with the answerings. Long post incoming.

11: Link your three favorite fics right now

Alright, let's get this out of the way first. My cardinal sin is not reading enough of other people's work. I'm going to fandom hell after I fandom die sadly but I have already made fandom peace with it. -- I swear I really want to read you guys' stuff I just don't have the time and/or attention span a lot of the time!

[Dear Fellow Traveller by justaboot]

I know, recency bias and all. But hush. The first chapter of this story could have been a story all on its own. I'm going to elaborate on what I like so much about this story in a comment here soon but long story short, I love how Huey is portrayed. Della too. Also Jamie has mentioned that her stories can be traced back to experiences she's had, and I can feel that going through this one. So much vivid detail that takes an experience I've never even touched and makes me feel like I'm living it. Not to mention how Huey feels relatable to me personally (thanks, neurodivergence!). Anyway, get your peepers out for this one, and your reading glasses if you've got em. It'll be a good one.

[Complementary Colors by Korkorali and tsundereanubis]

Come to think of it, this fic might have been a huge inflection point for me. It was probably the first time I ever realized that Violet Sabrewing is Literally Me (TM) because she's autistic and ace and plays chess what is there not to love. But also going through it again, I feel like this at least indirectly inspired "My Head is an Animal". Specifically, the part where Violet has a breakdown and Lena consoles her. Also also, not really related to anything I've done yet, but it got me to take May Duck seriously as a character. One of those moments where I realized that fanfiction could take a one-off clone of somebody else and give them depth, personality, etc. Not that she didn't have that in the show, but I think anybody would tell you that we didn't get very much May Duck content in DT17. Without this fic, we would have never been May'd. Send this to your friends to totally May them.

Pretty much any of the Weblena picks from TerminalMiraculosis but I'm gonna go with three because I cheat:

[Stitched Through Time]

[Crossing the Streams]

[When In Rome]

This was my genesis in the DuckTales 2017 brain rot. I don't care if these end up aging terribly and turns out there's a trillion typos and also it was written in Gaelic so I can't even read it and actually it was all a dream and none of it ever happened. These three are still going to have a special place because they opened me up to being a fan of something. I was just ranging out of that age where you were supposed to hide if you liked stuff, especially anything for kids. My nostalgic pandemic-era binge of Phineas and Ferb, for example, was something to feel shameful of, not enjoy every second of like I ended up doing. But watching DuckTales, and then immersing myself into this fandom shortly thereafter, taught me how to enjoy things. How to love things. How to love myself. Since 2021, I've spent a lot of time embracing who I am and learning to love myself. I'm not gonna say that DT17 taught me how to do all of that, but I will say that it showed me how doing so could make me so much happier in life. And here I am now, being happy in life. Funny how that works.

41: Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

This answer applies to pretty much everything. Movies, tv shows, and yes, reading stuff. I don't rewatch/reread stuff unless I have a reason to do so. It's nothing against the concept or anything, just that I always feel like I need a reason for doing whatever I do. Usually if I rewatch/reread something, it's because I want to check a specific part of it, like quoting a line properly or what have you. Even the fics that I linked up top, I haven't reread them in the two years since I found them. That's just how my brain works I guess.

62: Thoughts on cliffhangers?

I'm fine with cliffhangers as long as they're eventually resolved. I used a few in "Groundhog Day", and that was fun to do. I'll also say that as a writer, cliffhangers in actively updated fics are a neat little trick to get people talking. Want some free feedback? Just have Lena Sabrewing wake up in a void outside of time and space. And then just end the chapter. Comments go wild for that.

As a reader, cliffhangers are alright but it comes with a big caveat: I'm not the best at remembering what I last read. So if it's been a few days or a week since the cliffhanger, I might have some trouble remembering where we are in the story. It might be a smooth transition where we pick up exactly where we left off, but that might not click in my brain. Idk it's weird. And like I said I tend not to reread stuff that often so that complicates things.

[forest-hashira]

i need to be honest with you guys

i really don't want to be Like That and say that i've succumbed to the whole "my writing is worthless if it isn't popular etc. etc." mindset but like. i think i kind of have. i know that my writing has worth even if nobody reads it, and for a long time i was fine with not getting much attention on my works. i was happy with what i was writing, i didn't really care if anyone else read it, because i liked it, and that's what mattered.

and then i started writing Noble Blood, not just a bunch of mini fics that had no worldbuilding and very little plot.

Noble Blood is very precious to me. i've never put as much time and effort into a project that has actually turned into anything beyond some very vivid mental images and a handful of bullet points in a google doc. Noble Blood means so fucking much to me. and as much i desperately wish it didn't, the fact that it has not done well over the last three months has really, really hurt me. i know that engagement isn't everything, and i know it doesn't signify how good or valuable my writing is, but it's also not wrong for me to wish that people would interact with it in some way, because without those interactions there's no way for me to know if anybody's even reading it at all, much less if they're enjoying it.

and beyond that, i feel like whatever little niche i may have had before is gone, or at least expanded to the point that i feel like i've been pushed out. i don't want to make anyone feel bad, so i'm definitely not going to name any names, and again i really don't want to make anyone feel bad or like i'm attacking them. that is not my intention. i am just trying to be honest about what's been going on in my head lately. but i have writer friends who used to mostly/only write smut with little to no plot and are now branching into fics with lots of worldbuilding and plot and little to no smut, and i'm happy for them! i'm glad people are comfortable and confident enough to do that, and i am more than excited to read those things as they're published, genuinely i am. but i feel like that was what i had going for me, what made what i was writing stand out from everything else. and now i feel like i don't have that anymore.

i'm not entirely certain i know where i'm going with this, or what i'm trying to say. but this has been weighing heavy on me for a while. i don't want this to come across as me whining because my stuff hasn't gone viral, or begging/guilting people into reading my works, or anything like that, and i don't want anyone else to feel like i'm upset with them or think that i feel like they don't deserve the attention their works get, or anything like that, because i don't think or feel that way; i'm genuinely so happy that people are exploring things that interest them and are enjoying writing those ideas. i just wish it was working out for me like it's working out for them.

this isn't a post to say i'm quitting writing forever (i don't think i could even if i tried to), and it's not me saying i'm going to delete everything i've posted and disappear, because i'm not going to do either of those things (though i can't say the thought never crosses my mind). I am just struggling to find a reason to keep doing what i'm doing, because my disappointment and frustration with how poorly everything i post here does has now been bleeding into the enjoyment i usually get from writing, and it's making writing feel Very Unpleasant. i don't want to quit but i don't know what to do anymore.

to anyone who does read & interact with my fics, mutuals especially, i will never be able to thank you enough for your support. it seriously means the world to me, and i owe you an eternal debt of gratitude. i love all of you from the bottom of my heart.

if you read this far, thank you for listening to my (probably pointless) rambling, and i'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. i hope life is treating all of you well, and that you're taking care of yourselves as best you can. i love you guys 💜

[g00-b0y]

My last fic seemed to do well so here's another :3 This is a three part fic (so far) they can all be stand alone, but it makes mildly more sense to read them together. They're all me projecting my daddy issues onto these fictional serial killers.

Part one is about Tim being a father figure to Jeff.

CW: s/h and discussions of hopelessness

The day had been long and tiring, and honestly Tim wanted nothing more than a hot shower and to crawl in bed. His back was aching and his feet throbbed, but Toby had done a good job today and he was going to take a win where he could get one. The kid had been showing major improvement, which meant he'd get to stay alive. Tim didn't know why but he'd taken a shine to the kid, much more than anyone else in the house had. But that was ok, Toby was only seventeen and needed someone to watch his back.

Opening the door to his room Tim entered; he kicked off his shoes and stripped off his mud stained jacket and boots. He relaxed a bit and plopped onto the bed, contemplating if he really needed a shower. But he did, so he pushed himself up off the bed and exited his room. He limped down the hall and to the restroom, not even considering to knock before he entered. Why would he? Toby and Brian were in their rooms, and no one else really came down their hall unless they needed one of them. So the door being closed didn't even occur to him as he pulled it open.

Stood in the proxy bathroom was Jeff, his head whipped around and he looked at Tim. It took Tim a long moment to process what he was seeing. Jeff stood in the bathroom, he had previously been staring at himself in the mirror but he was now looking into Tim's eyes. Blood trickled down his cheeks and he held a small blade in his hand. The two stared at each other for a long moment, until Tim opened his mouth to speak. Though, the words became lost in his throat as he only let out a small.

“Oh bud…” Jeff looked extremely offended by the comment. His entire body stiffened as if he were trying to make himself taller.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” He asked, incredibly defensive. Tim blinked a few times before choosing his next words as carefully as possible.

“What umm, are you doing in our bathroom?” Tim asked hesitantly. He watched as the man before him recoiled and curled into himself.

“I can be wherever I want to be.” He retorted curtly. He quickly wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pushed past Tim. He stomped down the hall and out of sight.

Tim had known that he had struggled with,,, that for some time. But he never imagined catching him in the act. He had always thought the wounds stayed open supernaturally. The thought never crossed his mind that the cuts needed to be maintained in order to stay fresh. Thinking about it now it seemed like a stupid assumption. But there wasn't a lot he could do. He knew with one hundred percent certainty that Jeff would never open up to him. It seemed all he could do was keep a better eye on the kid and watch for more signs of self harm. He let out a sigh and entered the bathroom. Removing the rest of his clothes and getting into the shower.

The rest of the night was quiet. Tim got his shower and got dressed. He retired to his room, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. The image of Jeff cutting into his own face was still vivid in his mind. He felt so awful for the kid, he could only imagine how the kid felt. He knew Jeff would gag if he knew Tim felt empathy for him, so he decided it best to keep his thoughts to himself.

A sigh escaped him as he realized he had once again forgotten to eat that day. With a grunt he stood up and pulled on a shirt, walking down the creaking floorboards which moaned and groaned as he stepped. He eventually reached the kitchen, where he was met with the same kid from earlier; only now he sat with his knees pulled to his chest as he ate a bowl of cereal. They once again met eyes, holding each other's gaze for a long while, each waiting for the other to break the silence.

“Jeff-” Tim started

“Don't, I don't want to hear it.” He said stubbornly, glaring at the older man and leaning back in his chair so he could cross his arms.

“Listen man, I'm not going to lecture you. I was just gonna say I get it. Ya know?” Tim offered solemnly.

“What?” Jeff asked before he could stop himself.

“Yea dude, I get it. I was totally in your position. Granted, it's been years since I was a teenager, but I was there.” Tim slowly sat next to Jeff, offering him a knowing smile. “I have scars of my own from that time in my life.” He said patiently, leaning back in the chair and looking around the kitchen.

They sat quietly for a while, both taking in what the other had said. Tim watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye as he thought over what he had said. Jeff sighed quietly and laid his head on his own knees, looking at the wall.

“Tim,,, does it get better?” He asked, glancing at him. He really did not want to be vulnerable with him right now, but he had no one else to speak to. If he wanted these feelings off his chest, now was the time.

“Sometimes.” Tim replied, looking at his half finished bowl of cereal. “And sometimes it's worse, it isn't just a straight line, everyone struggles, and everyone feels better.” The words made Jeff queasy. “You're a tough kid, I know you'll figure it out.” Tim said and stood, riffling through the fridge and pulling out a cold hot dog.

“You,,, you really think so?” He asked and watched in mild horror as the older man ate the hot dog cold.

“Yea man, you're gonna be alright.” He said with a small smile. Jeff smiled a bit in response, watching Tim lean against the fridge. “Ya want to be left alone, or you want me to hang out?” Tim asked, not seeming to mind either way.

“I think I'm gonna head to bed.” Jeff said and put his bowl in the sink, nodding to Tim and heading up to his room.

Tim watched him and felt confident that if Jeff needed something, he'd at least consider coming to Tim for help. He stretched and headed up to bed, laying down on his stiff, lumpy mattress. He never imagined himself here, helping out a bunch of mentally ill teenagers with no parental figures to speak of. Though, he couldn't act like he hated it. They were all his kids now.

[bullet-prooflove]

Creative Process

The lovely @mariamariquinha​ asked about my creative process so here it is! This is a long ass post by the way.

Sidebar:

When it comes to developing characters, even reader ones I usually add a little something in there to make more individualised and it kind of creates an anchor point in my head so it’s easy to slip into them. I also think it brings an additional layer to the character and makes them more realistic.

A few examples of this:

-        Joe Velasco’s reader usually has at least one tattoo, a lotus on the back of their neck and one on their wrist. I kind of envision them a little spiritual and I feel the lotus flower kind of plays into that. (To be clear I don’t have this as a tattoo)

-        Horacio Carrillo’s reader usually has a scar on her throat close to the jugular from clashing with Quica. This serves a few purposes, it shows she is also on the front lines, it reminds Horacio of how close he was too losing her, and I feel it’s realistic that you would have some scars if you were in that type of job. (I also don’t have this scar)

Sometimes I do include tiny details from my life, like experiences or things I’ve encountered, like the way someone’s scent clings to a scarf if they lend it to you and stuff like that. I feel like it helps to add more realism to the work and it’s something readers can identify with.

Back to my creative process, it kinda goes like this:

I get an idea –  Usually from a prompt, or a song, or just a random thought I wake up with. I usually have my best ideas in the shower.

One way it works is:

I write the first draft on Google Notes if I am out and about or on Word if I am at the laptop. When studying for my Masters we learned the importance of leaving the first draft for a little while so that you can come back to it with fresh eyes. While I am doing that I am usually working on first drafts for other ideas so by the time I write up the original piece I have fresh eyes.

All of my rough drafts are colour coded by character as you can see, so it’s easy for me to tell what or who I am working with when I am in certain moods.

If I am writing a series, I try to write it up in one big go so I have a good idea of where it’s heading.

On the flipside:

Sometimes when I write a first draft on my laptop it’s really vivid and is almost perfect because I have had a really clear vision of where I want to go and what the piece is about. All it takes is a final flourish and read through and it’s ready to go. (This is pretty rare)

Once I’ve written a rough draft or had an idea, I haven’t had a chance to work on I pop it on my Ideas Trello board:

Each idea has a Gif or image attached to it so I can see which char it relates to as well as a working title and a colour coded banner with the fics current status. This also helps me keep track of where I am when I am writing a series as you can see.

Initially I had the goal of publishing one fic a week so there wasn’t much pressure when I was getting back into Tumblr. So, when I finished one, I would just schedule it for the next week. However, since I was getting the bus more because my job role changed I had more time to write rough drafts so I ended up stepping up my productivity and started posting more regularly. Now I am scheduling content daily for weeks in advance.

I keep track of what is going out and when by making a schedule board on Trello. This also allows me to make sure that there isn’t too much of the same character booked around the same time. I try to space it out a bit more.

I also have inspo boards, so when I see something for a certain char like a GIF or a song, I add it to the boards:

 I know this whole thing probably looks like I have no life at all, but the organisation actually really helps me keep on top of things!

I’m a busy person who works 4 days a week and runs their own social media business on the side. I’m married and go on dates with my husband, I also have boxing and sewing classes once a week as well as family obligations. 

I have had to slow down over the past few weeks because I have developed prolonged COVID. 

The key for me is not to feel guilty if I don’t write. I’m pretty self-reflective and know when I am over encumbered myself so sometimes, I take a step back and just rest for a few days. Taking that time really helps to refresh my mind and I always come back better for it.

I know this works for me and won’t work for everybody but if you have any qs feel free to drop me a line.

[lottiecrabie]

i really wanna get into writing but idk how.. any advice?

okay if you mean actually just Writing, i fear the best advice i could give you is Just Start. i know i’ve said it often and i know i’ve warned how annoying it is to hear, but the truth is that you won’t get better at writing if you don’t do it. practice is absolutely necessary and needed. i’ve posted the first english fic i’ve ever written a little while ago and if you haven’t seen it, Trust me it was atrocious. i had to start there before i could get to where i am now.

the best way to start writing is to have a story you want to tell. i think that’s what will motivate you the most. if there’s any idea that is really inspiring, that’s been trotting your head, that interests you, throw yourself into it! that’ll make you want to write a lot more.

i cannot even begin to tell you the number of times i’ve started a story and haven’t finished it. i think that’s just part of writing, or at least Practicing writing: you’ve got some idea, write two chapters of it, one, a flashforward moment, then let it rest in your drafts if you get more invested in some other fleeting thing. at least you’ll have scratched that itch and gotten in some practice.

if you don’t have The Great Idea yet, there’s tons of small blurbs on the internet that could get you out of that initial rust. writing short scenes or concepts is a great way to practice without the Brainy part of writing, which is, at least to me, Plotting.

honestly writing fanfiction has definitely made me improve and helped me develop my style. it’s a way to keep me accountable and practice writing a lot more; you see how slow i can be to write, and that’s With the motivation of readership! imagine how hell it is when it’s just me and the google doc. having constant validation, feedback and readers was personally been an excellent way to get me to Do the actual writing. my yearly word count has increased exponentially since i’ve joined the ff community a few years ago. so posting your work, even if you’re a little insecure, even if you’re not fully proud, might at least motivate you to Continue doing it!

in terms of actual content, i’ve always been a pretty raw and intuitive writer, so i can’t give much advice on how to figure it out. plus, i have a very distinct style — imageries, vibes over plot, flowery prose, running sentences, personification, em dashes — which doesn’t mean it will be yours, and doesn’t mean yours will be in any way wrong or bad. there’s very clinical and technical writing that can be genius, it’s just not what i do. follow what feels right.

but still here’s a few advices i could give:

if you’re trying to get more prose-esque, i’d say a good way is to work with Images. try tying feelings and thoughts to something extremely concrete and vivid. it’s a good way to create an interesting dichotomy between those two opposites.

i think dialogues are essential to a story, but that’s probably because it’s what i like reading the most. dont lose yourself in the boring, normal conversations; i don’t need to hear every hey hi how are you doing. try jumping directly into the action.

i usually start a scene with a dialogue, throwing people directly into the scene, or with some sort of establishing shot. painting the scene of where and how the characters stand, what the decor looks like, perhaps offering the reader with necessary information.

try ending a scene with a high. again, to me that’s usually a dialogue — still none of that nice to see you bye goodbye stuff. the last line, to me, is usually a quip of some sort. if not a dialogue, there’s some sort of Punch to the end of scene in the action. a realization, a feeling, a moment. if you can’t find a way to end it with a bang, then maybe the scene isn’t necessary and shouldn’t be there at all. you’re building literary tension throughout each scene: i need to feel like there’s some climax even in small capsules.

very important!!! write paragraphs! to me it’s extremely arduous to read a story that has these long paragraphs i have to scroll through for ages to get to the bottom. i lose focus and motivation pretty quickly. one paragraph, one idea. follow that religiously. if you think it’s getting a bit too long, hack it. remember most people read on their phone now, too. one single paragraph shouldn’t take the entire scene.

you don’t have to write Heavy plots. i personally focus on the characters and their journey, which is just as valid! if you can’t seem to find these complex twisting ideas, maybe you can just tell the story of two people falling in love and developing together. that’s just as nice.

wow i actually had more advices than i thought. well, i think that’s it:) good luck:) i believe in you<3