#marie talks writing

[mediawhorefics]

how do you get inspo usually?

oof thats a really tough question haha it’s so hard to pinpoint sometimes ? i get inspo everywhere really and it all merges together and comes out of me as ideas. i get inspo from all the stories i consume be it via books or films or tv shows or comics or fics ? i get inspo from art ? music? photography ? sculpture? history? fashion sometimes ! (moy was born entirely from a specific harry pic and the outfit he was wearing ! so was ctc !) i get inspo from people around me, convos i hear, etc.

but i think i’m mostly a vibes first, then ideas/plot points second kind of gal? i like thinking about what kind of atmosphere/vibes i want to create and what kind of world i want to immerse myself into for months before i start fully developing my stories. that goes for both story vibes and character vibes. once i have a desire for a specific atmosphere, then the rest kind of builds itself around it ? if that makes sense? for example, right now, i’m working on a romcom novel that’s aiming for grounded/modern fairy tale vibes with a sprinkle of whimsy aka amélie/pushing daisies/big fish/ the house in the cerulean sea with some ‘a bisexual woman’s history being uncovered by a quote unquote journalist a la evelyn hugo’ vibes. but it all started as me thinking: all of my current og projects are sooooo world-building heavy and i don’t have the energy for that right now. i want to write something fun and romantic and weird and silly and that would be a comforting summer read etc etc etc.

which isn’t to say i dont have fully formed ideas that just pop into my head. i know my vampire project (rip i’ll get back to you henry my love i promise) came to me with a fully formed premise in the middle of a history uni course (we were doing the russian revolution that day). so it all depends really.

but i think the easiest way for me to answer is that i get most of my artistic ideas by consuming art and talking with people about art. which in turns makes me want to make stuff too!

[recycledraccoon]

I have evolved into Scuttlespring anon, just say anything about them. I love them so much

THE ANON PANTHEON GROWS

Ok so. Gorgug likes Mary Ann because she absolutely infuriates him but also, and perhaps more importantly, because she has a type of confidence I think a younger Gorgug would have deeply envied. She's so weird, but entirely sure of herself. She likes what she likes and anyone who would have a problem with that is absolutely beneath her notice. She has friends not despite her oddities, but because she refuses to bend about them and that confidence is incredibly attractive in a person. Mary Ann Skuttle see's something she wants and she just...goes and gets it, easy peasy. Tiny little kobald strides, but when she puts her foot down with force, Gorgug thinks she could crush a mountain under with nothing so much as a blink or falter of her stride. She's certainly physically strong enough for it, and while Gorgug is undisputedly the better fighter, Mary Ann has a physical strength hidden under soft pastel pink hoodies and can, has, and will knock Gorgug on his ass. Gorgug got THRASHED at those Bloodrush field tryouts, and I'm certain he probably got his ass handed to him more than once during the year while at practice but before he quit the team. She made him so damn mad, everything that year was, and endlessly kind Gorgug got real mean to her over it. She was better than him, more casually confident, and didn't blink ONCE at his outburst. And later? When she was resurrected and freed from possession? He talks to her, acknowledges that it was just a game but he had been actually mad to be so easily knocked aside. He never really had to work at Bloodrush to be good at it, he just was, until suddenly she proved herself better.

And yet, without flinching, Mary Ann, famous for not giving a shit but listening to Gorgug say how much he had, just....asks if he has a girlfriend. Unparalleled confidence, shooting a shot he was unprepared for. Planets aligned even as his own orbit was knocked off course. And then, when he admits he doesn't even know where to get a quokki pet, something its been explicitly known to be something she really cares about? She writes down her number, letting him see that folded paper. She initiated this, and he got swept up in it, but instead of just handing over the number and allowing him to be swept up- Mary Ann Skuttle puts the number away and tells him shes gonna put it where you get quokki pets, and if he wants her number he's going to have to go get it. He's not allowed to just be swept up in the force of her, she wants him to put in effort, prove to her and himself that this isn't just a moment but a starting point. He cant be swept up by the tide, he's gotta swim. Gorgug liked Zelda, but their relationship started because they thought she was in danger and Gorgug had the best in. He stumbled into that relationship unsure and off balance, he never would have had the confidence to pursue Zelda without his friends hands on his back and their advice in his ears. Later on he gets more serious, he did love her and he put in the work to maintain that relationship, but it didn't work out and that's ok. Ever confident Mary Ann tho? She doesn't want unsure stumbling steps into this relationship. If Gorgug doesn't make the active decision to chase her, to WANT to be with her and putting deliberate effort to get there, then she doesn't want him at all. Gorgug, confused, asking where you even GET a quokki pet? And she smirks, calls him a loser, and walks away leaving him reeling and dumbfounded. Mary Ann Skuttle wants Gorgug to work for this. And who is Gorgug Thistlespring, but someone who puts in the work for things he wants? He did the seemingly impossible by creating his own subclass of Barbaficer, even if he had to take four years of schooling all at once. He puts in the work and makes the impossible possible, the greatest wizard of this age. So yeah. Yeah. Gorgug Thistlespring likes Mary Ann Skuttle because she makes him work for it.

[cynassa]

What is the story of frankenstein except the story of the minotaur where the minotaur gets to tell his story and what is the story of the minotaur except the story of a child carrying their father's hubris until it's the death of them, like all children do, in the end

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Vessel x GN reader.

Vessel and you with very obvious oral fixations hehehehee

It’s kept a secret. At first.

It begins with kisses. So many kisses. Always, all day, any chance either of you get. Your lips are always red and puffy when Vessel is around because you just can’t stop kissing him.

He eventually takes it up a few notches, when your lips tire and you just can’t keep up with him anymore, he gives you a few moments but he doesn’t want to stop. So he keeps going, moving down your jaw and making his way to your neck. He finds very quickly that your neck is his favourite place to bury his face. His lips wreaking havoc on the skin that resides there. But he just… can’t stop.

He cops it too. When he is fresh out the shower and his skin is warm and dewy. He crawls into bed, probably expecting an early night with you. But no, he’d be so so wrong. Because the moment you get your hands on him your lips are glued to his stomach. The soft pouch of skin that sits just above his waist band… fuck… your mouth waters just looking at it. You kiss and nip and suck at the beauty that is him. Leaving your marks all over his soft belly with a smile.

He starts to lose his mind a little. Always fighting a constant urge to drop everything and get his mouth on you. He sees the same look in your eyes. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes linger on his waist when he walks around without his top on. He loves to mess with you. Pulling his pants down just a little further than normal, letting them hang lower on purpose just to see if you’d crack. You never do. You’re stronger than he is.

But he’s nothing if not patient.

You don’t expect it. At all. Vessel knows this. But it’s his turn to cook dinner tonight, he’s stood at the stove stirring a pot of sauce he’d made. He wants you to try it but he stops you from reaching for a spoon. Your confusion disappears when you look at him and he’s already got two of his fingers, dripping with this sauce, hanging expectantly in front of your lips.

His smirk puts the word ‘smug’ to shame.

You hold eyes with him. Because if he wants to play this game then by god you’ll make him watch every minute of it. But your confidence diminishes the moment you wrap your lips around his fingers, and he knows he’s got you. Your eyes give you away immediately. Your pupils blow wide, and your eyes glaze over, telling him everything he needs to know about the state he’s got you in right now. By now the sauce that once coated his fingers is long gone but neither of you make any moves to pull away. He lets you enjoy this. Clearly awakening something within the both of you that he is just dying to explore.

To exploit.

And it’s then that Vessel has the small realisation that maybe his desire to have his mouth on you all the time extends beyond just wanting to kiss you. And he has an inkling that perhaps this little desire sits snug in your brain too.

He gently pulls his fingers from your beautiful lips, a string of saliva keeping the two of you connected as he reaches over to flick the stove off. You don’t even have time to wipe your mouth clean before his lips are on yours again. Dinner is immediately forgotten. His mouth will be occupied with someone much more delicious.

[highfiveheroes]

NOW I BREATHE FLAMES EACH TIME I TALK

A normal party, Kipperlilly will think later, wouldn’t go out of their way to torment each other like this. A normal party would be kinder, apologize, laugh a little, and move on. But her party is fucked up in more ways than one. Ruben’s chest and eyes start to glow red, and before they all know it Oisin is down on the floor getting his face fucking pummeled. Kipperlilly is still laughing so hard at the song that she can’t do anything about it, but Ivy makes a halfhearted attempt to throw something at Ruben to get him to stop. She does this by throwing a single piece of paper that floats a foot towards him and then lands, which is so pathetic that Kipperlilly officially falls out of her chair and lands on her knees, pounding the floor. It makes Ivy laugh even harder. If it weren’t so twisted, this would be the best bonding experience they’ve ever had. Something to bring up at a wedding, to reference in birthday cards for years—but Kipperlilly doesn’t give a fuck about their birthdays, doesn’t even know how old most of these fuckers are anymore, and if a single one of these fucks lives long enough to get married she’ll probably kill them out of jealousy and spite.

-

or: The Rat Grinders vs Junior Year.

(yall this fic. this fic. anyway im very proud of myself)

[turrondeluxe]

Was it love at first sight for Mikey and the tots? Did it take Mikey some time to warm up to them? Super cute AU!!

It was kind of hectic when Mikey saw the tots for the first time ever, while also being emotionally stunted, so the warming up is kind of a slow but surely process!

[landslided]

lord, the people you’ve put on this earth to work are plagued with visions of old men fucking nasty

[swag696942069]

Marauders AU where the Black family are trained assassins and the cousins (Regulus, Sirius, Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix) were trained like how Black Widows are trained (like the Marvel characters, not the bug, if that wasn't already clear enough)

OH!!

WHAT IF THEY'RE STILL CALLED BLACK WIDOWS!!!?

Omg

Anyway

What if, Sirius and Andromeda were the only ones to ever get out, and they're now living, simi, normal lives.

Until Sirius gets a message from his baby brother, asking for his help to destroy the "family business" because Narcissa is pregnant and they don't want the next generation to go through what they went through

I'm talking Black brother angst! I'm talking minor/background ships! I'm talking Regulus not understanding very many social cues cause he was literally only taught how to unalive people. I'm talking James/whoever you ship Reg with, going fearl when they see him fight so effortlessly! I'm talkin Sirius having a hard time letting Regulus do what he does best, assassin, cause in his mind, he still sees Reg as the little boy who was afraid of thunder and would crawl into his bed at night. I'm talking angst with a happy ending! I'm taling Walburga/Orion bashing! I'm talking freedom!

Please someone write this

[sugaroto]

Yknow, I always found the "Why don't you like girls?" "Because they're soft" "some of the strongest people I know are women" Scene funny af because Neil literally just asked Nicky "why r u gay?" So of course the answer would be something... like that? You know Nicky says they're soft and explains that they have so many curves and stuff and he likes his masculine Erik that he can hold onto etc etc,

But Neil is having his war flashbacks about his mom and Dan and Allison and Renee and he's like "women are strong" 🎵THIS IS MODERN FEMINISM TALKING ~🎵

And Nicky is like um I meant their bodies? Like literally?

And it just hit me, how Neil didn't even consider that, because of his demisexuality

He asks a gay man why he's gay and when he says why he doesn't like girls Neil is thinking of all their great accomplishments and strong characters, he doesn't think anything about their appearances, they're beautiful/hot etc he thinks about how Allison was ready to play while she was still grieving and his mom on the run all those years and I don't remember what he thought of Dan and Renee cause it's 4am but he thought something

Like he literally asked why are you gay but didn't even thought the answer would be connected to bodies and attraction he thought Nicky was talking about, like personalities and stuff

Do yall realize how demisexual that is of him?

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 27 – prompt 27: Expecto Patronum – word count 670

Expecto Patronum - The Patronus Charm is a powerful projection of hope and happiness that drives away Dementors

A part of Remus knew it had been a bad idea, but that part had been drowning for the past hours in the alcohol, the hate for all the Christmas decorations everywhere, the cold, the ache of the second full moon the wolf spent desperately howling for his friends, only to tear himself apart when they failed to show up.

So that part was pretty quiet when he stopped in front of the tombstone, shivering from the cold.

“Hey Lils. Hey Prongs,” he slurred, raising the half-empty bottle to his friends’ names. “Merry Christmas.”

He took a swig and swayed on his feet. The cold was getting worse, but he didn’t care. After all, he had lost everything he had ever cared for. Maybe he could just lie down by Lily and James and fall asleep there and never wake up. He started shivering, and a movement in the corner of his eye made him turn around.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Not far from him, a hooded figure was hovering by a tombstone rapidly covering in frost. He should have thought about that, really. The Wizarding World was still in such turmoil it was only logical a place so important like Lily and James’s tomb in Godric’s Hollow would be guarded by one of the Dementors Azkaban could spare. Even their son, wherever he was, must have some around.

“They’re my friends,” Remus whispered, his teeth chattering.

The Dementor glided forward and Remus stumbled back as the cold seeped into his bones and distant voices exploded in his head.

“Remus… Something awful has happened…”

The bottle fell from his hand.

“It’s not possible… Sirius wouldn’t…”

“I guess he lived up to his family name after all. I’m sorry Remus, I should have seen it coming.”

He knocked his back into James and Lily’s tombstone. The Dementor crept closer.

“Pete knew he couldn’t beat Sirius in a duel, it doesn’t make sense he went after him!”

“Grief makes us all act in ways we wouldn’t normally, Remus.”

He fumbled in his pocket, searching for his wand.

“I know I’m not his godfather or anything, but can I at least see him? For his parents’ sake.”

“He’ll be safer with his blood family, believe me. Pick up the pieces, Remus. Learn how to move on.”

Remus brandished his wand. He knew the spell and he knew he had been able to cast a fully-fledged Patronus, who ironically was in the shape of a wolf. But all that had been before. His hand trembled.

“I don’t even know if I have anything left you can take,” he whispered.

The Dementor didn’t stop advancing. If Remus was being honest with himself, it didn’t make sense. Dementors were guards, they had no business attacking someone who wasn’t doing any harm, but maybe it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be worse than what he had lived through in the last weeks. Maybe it would even be better.

But as the Dementor glided even closer, the wolf reared up his head somewhere inside him, survival instinct kicking in. Images flooded Remus’s mind, of the Forbidden Forest and his friends galloping by his side, of the same friends by his bed when he woke up in the Hospital Wing, of smiles, and laughter, and hand holding and warmth, so much warmth…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

He braced himself against the tombstone while the silver form leaped out of his wand and chased the Dementor across the graveyard until it disappeared somewhere. Remus exhaled. Apparently, he wouldn’t die that day. He looked up to his Patronus as it padded back to him and froze.

“No…” he breathed. “Please, no…”

He had read about what shock and grief could do to the spell, but nothing in those books had mentioned cruelty.

“No…” he repeated, his eyes filling with tears.

He let himself slide to the ground, his back pressed against the cold marble of his best friends’ tombstone. In front of him, glittering with the silver light of the spell, Padfoot wagged his tail.

[boringmarinn]

one more Frisk from the Blade Runner thing i made long ago~ it is not the most finished and polished but i was bored and decided to post it anyway

[zmediaoutlet]

Sweaty crumple of mixed bedding and discarded clothes. Even with Sam's hulk feeling like he's going to fuse to Dean's skin, it feels—pretty good, honestly. Dean adjusts his sore neck and Sam accommodates him, resettles. His fingertips occupied with a bruise under Dean's collarbone, testing the edges just careful enough that it almost, almost hurts. If Dean were younger he'd be revving up for round two; as is it's…

"Tell me more about Eliot Ness," Sam says.

Dean slits an eye open but Sam's not making fun. He's watching his fingers, his hair screwed up six ways from Sunday. "He so did call me untouchable, for one thing," Dean says, and Sam blows a lazy raspberry. Dean grins, rolls his hips flat so he can spread out. Heels stretching off the crappy bedroll, skidding in the dust.

"Coolest day in a long time," Dean says. Sam makes a little noise. "Dude was a hunter, you know? Real deal. Wasn't one to suffer fools, either."

"Amazing that he put up with you," Sam says. Dean kicks vaguely but Sam wraps one of those stupid giganto legs over his and he subsides.

What can he say. That—there was about ten minutes where he was positive he was gonna get stuck in the past, with Eliot freakin' Ness and a god of time on the loose and no way to get back, and that was the worst feeling in the world but also—it was a time without Leviathan. A time before everything that'd gone wrong had gone wrong. The sheer terror of the gap at his right hand where Sam should've been aside, there was this. Thought. Kept nagging him.

Camp lantern's still on, sitting on the floor above their heads. Sam's got a blue-white halo. He looks up from Dean's chest eventually, raises his eyebrows.

"What would you've done?" Dean says. Eyebrows a little higher. "If I'd—gotten stuck, or something. Part of the Untouchables for real."

Sam squints at him, for a few seconds. "I would've come and got you," he says. He opens his mouth and closes it. Shakes his head. "No idea how. Kidnap an angel and make them take me back? Or make them get you. Either way."

Kidnap an angel. His brother. Dean squirms on the half-assed pallet. "We both could've got sent back," he says.

He was trying to make like it just occurred to him. Must not quite manage, because there's a pause, after which Sam drags his arm out from under Dean's neck and lifts up on his elbow, looking down at Dean's face. Dean bites his lips between his teeth and Sam says, "What."

"Nothing," Dean says. Sam looks at him for a silent handful of seconds and Dean scratches the stubble under his jaw. "Just—we'd've been—back there, back then. 1944. Before… everything. Not just Dick and the Levis but before, you know—"

"Apocalypse," Sam says. His cheek sucks in on one side, picking up the thread. "Before… angels, hell. Man, Dad wasn't even born. And Mom and Dad met in… what, '74?"

"'72," says Dean, who's already done this math.

Sam takes a deep breath. A little under thirty years, in a world that—yeah, it had its troubles, but not the kind that'd come. Long before a hole would open in Stull. Long before Dean would have to kneel in the mud with blood on his hands and have the future core out into a narrow dark tunnel with nothing at the far end. Long before even that first worst day, one of Dean's earliest memories, when he'd been curled terrified on floorboards not all that different to these and Sam had woken up screaming in the pulled-out drawer that had served them then as a crib and Dean hadn't known how to get him to go back to sleep, and Dad had been gone, and it was worse somehow than the night their mother had burned, with his baby brother making that horrible desperate coughing wail and Dean just—not knowing how to fix it. That night he thought nothing would ever be okay again.

A hand spreads on his chest, over the bruise. He breathes past constriction and finds that Sam's got his head propped on his hand, watching Dean's face. "But you came back," he says. His thumb runs along Dean's collarbone.

Dean covers Sam's hand. "You woulda looked dumb in the hats, anyway," he says. Has to clear his throat. "And you would've had to cut your hair. No way the Untouchables would let you get away with the delinquent look."

"Delinquent, huh," Sam says, raising his eyebrows, and Dean nods, reaches up and pushes it back from Sam's face, says, "You'd be a real mug, you know? A real bunny."

Bunny, Sam mouths, and then slides his hand down to Dean's side, pulls him closer. "Guess it's just as well we can't change history," he says. He curls his arm under his head and lays down, his face turned in close to Dean's, his eyes closing. For a second Dean's in two times at once, watching his brother curl down to sleep. "Wouldn't want to be a delinquent."

"You're already a bunny," Dean says, and ignores Sam mumbling that makes no sense when he reaches to turn off the lantern.

[pixiiipie]

i love the stark difference between sub zayne and dom zayne there is no easy middle

[quinloki]

Canon Characters vs OC vs x Reader

Disclaimer: This is just my two cents, and my perspective on things, and I'm not trying to lay down the law for everyone. I needed to just put this to words though, in order to sleep.

I was thinking about this because of a post I saw, and some, we'll say, kind of useless comments associated with the post. Mean-spirited stuff.

Normally, in one ear and out the other, but the vibes just kicked me off down a rabbit hole of sorts an I wanted to try to put some of my thoughts to words.

First, some style vibes:

Canon x Canon Canon/Canon stories are, to me, like reading an episode of that show. I'm sitting down in front of a TV or whatever, and I'm experiencing the story As A Viewer. I like this style because I don't really have to expend much energy and I just kind of roll with whatever's happening. Generally some sort of 3rd person perspective.

OC x canon OC/Canon stories are like being on a carnival ride. I'm sitting in a car on a roller-coaster, and maybe the OC is sitting next me. I'm experiencing the story more deeply than strictly canon stories, but my connection with the OC is no deeper than say, my connection with Katniss Everdeen when I read The Hunger Games. Sometimes 3rd person, sometimes first person.

Reader x canon Reader/Canon (or Reader x/ OC) is like putting on a VR helmet. I don't get much physical input about the "Reader OC" because I'm experiencing the story through their eyes. I don't expect the reader to be me, but there's a bigger feeling of immersion to be had. Some description might happen cause it's relevant to the story, and it's still a type of ride, I can't jump the rails on the roller coaster, after all. (Even with a VN you still follow the tracks). Sometimes first person, sometimes second person (I'm partial to 2nd person perspective, but that's just me).

I love Fan Fiction, I love it. All of it, and man even more than anything, what I love is that I'm going to dislike 80% of it. Because that 80% was written for someone who is not me. (Hell, that number's probably closer to 99% if we're looking at ALL fandoms, but I digress).

Second - The VENT:

What got me the most in the post that prompted this, was someone saying "Bring back the Mary Sue OCs!" and then they went on to describe something more detailed, and I just -

Look, respectfully, fuck you.

The point is, you're not going to be happy no matter what. Whether it's "mary sue" OCs, or x readers, or alternative universes, or a ship you don't like, you're going to find something to be unhappy about.

Cause people have been bitching about all styles of fan fiction since the first "You've Got Mail" chimed in 1991. And until 1998 and ff.net you really had to hunt for it, and until 2007 and Ao3 the idea of tagging a fic for any reason wasn't really a thing. Every click was a surprise! \o/

I just have seen the same song and dance a dozen times. It's exhausting. People become okay with OCs and decide x readers are the enemy, and before that OCs were *all* Mary Sues and cringe and people who made OCs were the enemy, and before OCs people who wrote even a little OOC were the enemy, and people who wrote AUs were the enemy, and you can write fan fic but it HAS to be Canon Compliant, and everyone MUST be in-character at all times - "They would not fucking say that" was the enemy.

Look, just please - please - in any capacity, stop it with the "All X style of story telling is crap" mindset. There's over a dozen different ways to do x readers alone. I know 20 x reader writers and I don't think any of us have the same style, preferences, or vibes.

I've had a lot of comments along the lines of "I thought I hated x readers, but I really loved this." on a few different fics I've written. Sometimes it's not the style of the fic, sometimes it's the style of the writer, and my Brother In Christ - you're going to have to read some awful shit to shuffle through the thousands of writers out there to find the vibes that resonate with you.

Ostracizing entire swathes of fan fic because you need something to be "The Enemy" so you can lift up something else, and then bitching you can't find anything new to read seems like a personal problem.

And I know y'all are scrolling by TONS of posts that don't interest you, every day, as a matter of course. So don't give me that "clogging up the tag" BS, because we deserve to be here same as anyone else in the fandom.

[highfiveheroes]

the oisin and ivy aside is starting off strong y'all

[bloodynereid]

currently writing a limoreau coffee shop au and i'm sooo excited for you all to read it that i'm practically buzzing. everyone still has powers but there was never the whole 'the woods' situation and god u is just another chill little uni but for supes.