#most of these are wips i'll never actually finish

[listenerofpodcasts]

art vs hands

[spittingspite]

Writing game!!! Make a 24 hour poll w your WIPs, then write one sentence for each vote the winner gets. Tagged by @cryptid-crawly hewwo :3

Tagging @tantive404 @aramanna and anyone else who wants to do it!

[nereidprinc3ss]

behave

in which fem!reader REALLY wants spencer's attention while he's working

18+ (no smut but sex is talked about) warnings: mentions of sex, spencer grabs readers wrist to stop her from doing something but its not violent, reader is referred to as a girl, no use of y/n, um i think that's it WC: 870 a/n: i have damn near 40 pages of spencer WIP so im biting the bullet and posting some of it. also.. if you want a plot... babe this is not the place for you im sorry... ive never even heard of a plot actually. i dont know about rising and falling action... i dont believe in that. it sounds fake

It feels like Spencer has been at his desk for hours. 

And for hours you've been lounging on the couch, reading your book in silence so as to let him work. But you're becoming... antsy. Impatient. Every time you drop your book and stare at him, willing your white-hot gaze to draw his attention; nothing. He just keeps shuffling papers, signing, writing, reading reading reading. 

At ten, you give up.  

You make a show of slamming your book shut, sighing, slowly sitting up, stretching, standing, stretching again--when you turn your head, expecting your little performance to have at least earned a look from him; still, nothing. 

"Spence?" you ask, innocuously, as you round the couch and draw toward him carefully, slowly, on light feet. A display of faux innocence. It’s not that you intend to bother him, per se--you're just so bored. 

He hums in response, eyes still glued to his work as he searches for something among the mess of paper. 

You come to a stop in front of the mahogany desk, tracing the edge of it idly with wandering fingertips. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask, in reference to a photo he seems to now be studying intently.  

"Nothing you need to see," is his muttered response, quickly flipping the photo face down on the desk and picking up a form walled in migraine-inducing tiny black text. You watch the way he scans the paper, brow knitted, and eyes squinted, clearly not paying you very much attention. 

You move languidly around the desk, letting the wood drag against your hip the whole way, before reaching for the overturned photo--just to see what he'll do. 

Spencer catches your wrist, his grip gentle and warm but not without portent. "What did I just say, grabby?" 

Sadly, they're the most words you've gotten out of him since this afternoon. 

You sigh dramatically and drape yourself across his lap, looping your arms around his neck. To your initial satisfaction he shifts slightly to accommodate you--and then continues to look over your shoulder like he hardly notices the pretty girl on top of him. 

"When will you be done?" you purr, tracing his jaw with a finger.

"I'll be done when I'm done." 

God, he can be stubborn. 

"Can you be done any sooner than that?" 

"What do you think I'm going to say to that," comes his flat reply, still not sparing you a glance. You watch enviously as his eyes dart down the paper he's reading over your shoulder.  

"Then I'm staying right here until you're finished." 

"You can stay here if you can behave." 

You scoff, bunching the fabric on the back of his shirt in your fists. "What do you mean, if I can behave?" 

Finally, you hear Spencer set down his pen, and he leans back in his chair to regard you. His gaze finally on you is like an ice bath. You literally have to repress the urge to shiver under his evaluation; the slightly raised eyebrows, the line of his mouth a little harder than usual. His 'you know exactly what I'm talking about so don't play dumb' look. 

For a few tense seconds, you let your eyes dart between his, not wanting to break first. Unfortunately, you think that look of his could freeze saltwater.  

"Fine," you mutter, flushing when you look down at his shirt collar instead. If you're being reasonable, he probably is doing something important. You drag your gaze back up to his and see that his eyes have softened. 

"Thank you," he says, gentler, squeezing your leg before running his hand over it back and forth a few times. "I know I'm not being very fun today. When I'm done we can do whatever you want to do." 

The urge to say, 'whatever I want to do?' is strong, but you manage to bite your tongue as he reaches back over you to continue his work. Instead, you content yourself to lean against him, allowing his solidity and warmth to envelop you for some immeasurable stretch of time.  

Rain starts up, battering the windowpane and accented by deep rolls of thunder. The scratch of Spencer's pen on paper, the rustle of files, and the scent of patchouli and amber begins to lull you into a doze--a comfortable place between awake and asleep. It's the kind of comatose unconsciousness that bends and liquifies time, and you don’t even realize you fell asleep until you’re waking up. 

Spencer murmurs your name, brushing your hair carefully out of your face. "Did you fall asleep, angel?" His voice is soft, just above a whisper.  

"Mhm," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "How long has it been?" 

"A few hours," he sighs. "That file took a lot longer than it should have, I'm sorry." 

You're still bleary as you speak next; 

"The thing was sex." 

"What?" he laughs, rubbing your leg as you adjust yourself in his lap. 

"You said we could do whatever I wanted to do when you were done, and it was sex. But now I'm tired." 

"Let's get you to bed," he begins, "and revisit the sex idea in the morning. Does that work for you?" 

You smile against his shirt, eyes already fluttering closed again. 

"Mhm..." 

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Could you recommend us some of your favorite hinny fics? Love your work btw!

Thank you <3

I would tell you to look at my bookmarks on Ao3 but I'll give you some highlights (I'll keep wips out of this because I never know how to feel about recommending unfinished work):

Gone was any trace of you -- I'm pretty sure I've read this something like a billion times, I can quote it word by word

Come stay for the summer -- this is always such a light fun work to re-read, I'm a big fan of muggle hinny, I really have a soft spot for it

Altered -- the obsession I have for this one-shot, this to me is hinny in its purest form

A Weasley reunion -- some hardcore pining from Harry, and fake dating, what do you want more from life?

Time -- Harry realising he wants children, with Ginny. The specific way in which the realisation is written is something I adore

Summer rain -- this is great, what else there is to say really, it's just great

Sacred new beginnings -- I love how this somehow manages to be a retelling of sixth year despite being a muggle AU with young adults hinny

Orchards -- the author definitely has a higher opinion of the "golden trio" than I have but the way she writes dialogues between Harry and Ginny is perfect, she also does a thing I love which is to make Ginny actually funny. It's one of her main personality traits and yet it's forgotten so often, I think it happens due to some sort of unconscious bias about women not being funny (not native English speakers writers are forgiven though because being funny in a foreign language can be quite hard)

After the leaves have fallen -- this talks about what I call Harry and Ginny's never-ending argument and it's written so beautifully

Everything I am is yours -- I just noticed that on ao3 it's signed as the first chapter of two but it definitely can stand on its own and is a very well done muggle retelling of Harry and Ginny's story

take what I took and give it back to you -- a beautifully written soulmates marks au that doesn't really change Harry and Ginny's story but, as one of the comments says, seems to bring up an existing implied element of the canon one

Already here -- because Hannah's stories that I love the most (they are all great though) are wips, I'll put this one in the hopes that one day she'll decide to turn it into a multi-chapter story (@takearisk-ao3 think about it 👀)

The brilliant dance -- this is so fucking funny and entertaining while also being heartwarming. Fucked up but inevitable/obsessed with each other hinny spending their early 20s being a hot mess is my AU drug

Someone else's life -- finished reading this a few days ago, a very well developed brilliant idea

[I already know the second I post this I'll realise I've forgotten some brilliant work]

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! Do you have any tips how to not lose interest in a story and be enough interested to start/do write if? Personally I just get hyperfixated on a story idea I have, do the brainstorming, even the planning, sometimes world building and if I get serious I make lists about almost everything but never end up writing even if I have interest still, but at most cases at the point I could start writing I just loose interest and get bored of a story when I'm done figuring out what it'll be about and maybe because I don't really like thinking about the climax or the end of the story...

Hyperfixation on Planning Story, But Can't Write It

I do have some tips on rekindling your interest in your story, which I'll link below, but first I think it's worth addressing the specific issues you mentioned: that you don't like to think about the climax or end of the story.

Have you thought at all about why you feel that way? There are a few potential reasons I can think of:

1 - Your story doesn't have a conflict, so your story doesn't have a natural climax or ending. Stories revolve around conflict, or in other words a problem that needs to be solved. This problem could be in the character's heart and mind (internal conflict), in the character's situation/life/world (external conflict), or you can have both at the same time. Many stories these days have a parallel internal and external conflict. Stories are ultimately about someone (or a bunch of someones) trying to solve a problem. In order to solve that problem, they need to reach a particular goal or accomplish a particular thing. The bulk of the story will be their struggle to reach this goal as they overcome the obstacles along the way. The climax of the story is where they face down the cause of the conflict once and for all, whether that's a villain (like an evil wizard or corrupt corporation) or a force (like illness or a natural disaster) and try to solve the problem once and for all. Everything after that is the aftermath... whether they succeeded or failed, patching up their "wounds" from the "battle" (again, it doesn't have to be actual wounds or an actual battle), and settling into the post-conflict life. That's your ending.

2 - You have a conflict, but haven't figured out how it would be resolved, so the climax and ending are fuzzy. If you have a conflict but aren't sure how it would be resolved, it might help to think of the conflict as a problem that needs to be solved. For example, in The Hunger Games, the conflict was the Hunger Games Event... the problem was that Katniss volunteered to compete which put her life at risk. So the solution to the problem was to survive the event.

3 - You know what the climax and ending are, but you are enjoying the characters and world and don't want the story to end. This is one I think many writers can relate to. It can be really hard to let go of a story when you've enjoyed writing it, have gotten attached to the characters, and feel comfortable/familiar with the world. It can also be a little scary to think about diving into a whole new story. But, we do have to learn to let go of stories when they're finished and let them come to their natural conclusion. You can always go back to the world and characters, even if just for yourself, later on. It wouldn't be weird to write "fan-fiction" of your own story, and many writers turn these kinds of stories into prequels, sequels, companion series, and companion short stories that their readers enjoy, too.

Here are some tips for getting excited about your story again if you just need your motivation rekindled:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Feeling Unmotivated with WIP

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking | ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[wttcsms]

excerpts;

i have over 100k+ words in unfinished drafts/wips in my google docs. yikes.

in an attempt to gauge general interest + also to motivate myself in attempting to at least finish half of the projects i've started, i'm going to share some of the fics i think y'all will be most interested in 🤍 (and also because these are my usual first rough draft attempts, so these are just the best of the worst LOL)

as always, lmk what you think, what you're most excited for, and i'm always open to chatting about any of my concepts in depth 🤭

featuring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, sae itoshi, tobio kageyama, naoya zenin, satoru gojo, + a plot that's still open for any character so tell me why ur fave deserves it (all with fem reader)

— brace for impact, keiji akaashi elevator pitch: rich college girl with daddy issues is roommates/put under the care of old-time family friend, 20-something y/o keiji akaashi

“I just don’t want you to waste your life away.” He answers, which is the truth. He really hates picking you up when you’re drunk off your ass, unable to defend yourself against the swarms of sleazy college guys that are attending the same party as you. He hates the fact that you’ve been raised — if the dozen father-daughter interactions you had with your dad counts as him “raising” you — to believe that money can solve all your problems. Because, sure, having money has gotten you out of many tight spots, but it wasn’t money that drove to a college on the other side of the city to pick you up, it was him. He has to stand here and watch you push the universe’s boundaries, trying to test your luck, to see if there’s a problem or a bad situation that you can’t get out of this time. You’re reckless and privileged and insecure and rich — the deadliest combination for any college age girl to be. You’re going to ruin your life before it even fully begins. It’s like your default mode is self destruction. 

“Not this speech again.” You sigh, shifting your body so that your knees are turned towards the door instead of him. “Y’know, Akaashi, you’re not my dad.” 

“Yeah, because unlike him, I actually care about you.”

You’re silent now, still staring out the window. He’s usually better at keeping his mouth shut, but it’s hard to do whenever you’re constantly pushing and pushing and testing his patience and he’s just so—

“—sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how the words leave his mouth; you think the way he’s clenching his teeth acts as a formidable enough boundary. 

Actually, you think, it’s entirely justifiable. You’re coy, not dumb. You know when you’ve pushed Akaashi too far, and this is one of those times. And, really, you kind of — scratch that — you do deserve it. All of it. And then some. You’re irresponsible, and you drag him out to the other side of the city so he can act as your guardian, your protector, even though that is most certainly not the role he planned on playing. Honestly, you’re just surprised that he hasn’t left you out to rot like everyone else, and you’re thankful, you really are. But what are you supposed to say? That? The truth? Probably. 

You don’t, though. You just mutter some weak ass retort that sounds an awful lot like “you need to get laid” before staring out the window for the rest of the ride. 

— devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon (i don't really want that to impact you), atsumu miya elevator pitch: yakuza au but a healthy amount of porn and plot. sequel to this.

The first time Osamu Miya meets you, you’re unconscious, and he has a feeling you’d be grateful about this fact considering the state you’re in. 

Atsumu’s carrying you bridal style, and even in your sleep, you still cling to him. The sight would be almost sweet, but Osamu’s not an idiot. There can never be anything sweet in his dear older brother’s life. Even in the pale moonlight, Osamu can see the bruises and hickeys lining your neck, a trail of them that seem to disappear underneath your clothes (he wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a map of hickeys littering your skin). Your hair is sticking up at odd angles, your lips are swollen, and you are knocked out in every sense of the word. 

If the situation wasn’t serious (even without verbal confirmation, he’s well aware of how dire this situation is right now; Atsumu wouldn’t have visited him if it weren’t), Osamu thinks he would have made a comment about his brother’s rough handling. 

(He doesn’t, though, because Osamu knows all about just how rough his brother can get — after all, they both had the same upbringing.) 

“‘Samu,” Atsumu says, and his voice makes him sound like he’s worse for wear. He sounds like when he was fourteen and had his first taste of initiation, when a group of the strongest men would beat him relentlessly for thirty seconds and he wasn’t allowed to fight back. The crack in his voice is subtle, and even though Osamu rarely speaks to his brother anymore, he’s still a master at reading him. 

“Who’s the girl?” Osamu nods to your sleeping form, trying not to focus on the purple and red marks. God, he can’t tell if he, Atsumu, you, or all three of you are lucky it’s so dark. Osamu can’t really believe it’s possible to go out in public after a night with his brother; not without being on the receiving end of a few concerned looks. 

“I need a favor.” Atsumu ignores his question, which is typical behavior for him, so Osamu’s not entirely too surprised or annoyed. “She’s in danger, and it’s—” 

Atsumu grimaces like the next words he’s about to say are going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. And maybe it’s because that’s his brother and they grew up together, or maybe it’s because ‘Tsumu’s always been a little predictable (or has Osamu just always been good at predicting?), but Osamu can almost mouth what his brother’s about to say.

“—my fault.” 

So, you must be someone awfully important to his brother then. Important enough that Atsumu would finally visit him in person after all these years (with barely any warning beforehand, too). Important enough that Atsumu would treat you so roughly (if the marks on your body are any indication of what you’ve been through) and still care about you so deeply. Important enough that he’s finally taking accountability, finally taking the blame for his actions.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Atsumu’s left him genuinely speechless for a moment. 

“Please, ‘Samu.” Atsumu Miya is not the type of person who breaks down easily. He does not beg, he commands. But right now, Atsumu sounds like he’s this close to getting down on his knees and clasping his hands together if that’s what it’ll take to get Osamu to help him. “You told me you would owe me after what I did for you. Consider this your repayment.” 

Apparently, you’re someone so important to Atsumu, he’s cashing in a favor that’s worth his life just to ensure your safety. Osamu can’t tell if that’s true idiocy or true love — then again, there’s hardly a difference between the two, is there? 

“Idiot. I would have helped ya regardless, y’know.” He means it. Every word. 

“I know.” And Atsumu means it, too. Because even if they’ve went years with little to no contact, even though they both belong to two completely different worlds, they’re still brothers. Which means that they also know each other as well as they know themselves, and Atsumu knows that Osamu can never truly be at peace until he feels like the completely imaginary debt he owes is paid back in full. 

The universe must have a taste for irony, though, because Atsumu thought that ensuring your safety and bringing his brother peace would make him feel good. Instead, transferring you to his brother’s arms allows the weight of the world to rest more comfortably on his shoulders. 

Osamu takes one last look at his older brother, and he’s not entirely surprised to see that his attention is on you, dark eyes staring so intensely at your sleeping figure, he wonders if he’s trying to commit your face to his memory. He’s worried about Atsumu. Sure, he’s got a whole entire gang on his side, a rather powerful one too, but ‘Tsumu’s never been the greatest at being left alone to his devices, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

But then Atsumu looks up at him, and Osamu feels like they’re both fourteen again. Trapped, vulnerable, in immense pain… But not alone, never alone. 

“Thanks, ‘Samu.” 

“Any time, ‘Tsumu.” 

(It’s the same words exchanged by their teenage selves years ago, whenever Osamu would help him clean his cuts and sloppily stitch him up.

To them, it was another way of saying “I love you”.)

— it always leads to you [chapter one], sae itoshi elevator pitch: literally the long ass, long awaited start to this series. if you listened to taylor's new album (ttpd)... yeah, that's basically the new soundtrack for this fic. do what u will with that info <3

A hard pill to swallow is that people never get over their first loves. 

It’s like, scientifically proven, or something. There’s been studies, you think. Not to mention that you belong to the group of people who have never gotten over their first loves. 

You’re aware that it’s probably embarrassing and should be something that brings you shame, but when Sae comes knocking on your door, infrequent, surprise visits that always catch you off-guard, you find yourself opening the door for him. 

(He has a key. He can let himself in any time he wants. You think he must forget.)

This time, he’s not knocking on your door, but he is waiting in the stairwell near the entrance to the floor of your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap on and a dark sweatshirt, and you want to tell him that everyone who lives here is most definitely getting shitfaced at the college bar you just left (the one whose only redeeming qualities are that it’s by campus and the drinks are cheap). He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his identity. 

You frown when he approaches you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you pout and complain about this halfheartedly, but it’s all for nothing. Sae never tells you when he’s coming; it’s almost like you’re just a spur-of-the-moment decision to him, which doesn’t feel right since the Sae you grew up with was always meticulous and purposeful with his actions. Granted, the Sae you grew up with left on a plane to an entirely different continent four years ago, and the one you have standing next to you now sometimes feels more like a doppelganger than your ex-boyfriend. 

He doesn’t answer, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. He waits for you to fumble with your keys; if you knew he was coming, you wouldn’t have let Akane convince you to take as many shots as you did. Now everything is kind of blurry and hazy, and your hands shake despite the lack of coldness you’re feeling. 

You delude yourself into thinking that there’s something of the old Sae left inside of him as he gently pries the keys from your fumbling fingers and unlocks the door to your apartment himself. 

Entering your apartment feels like traveling in a time machine, only instead of traveling back in time or to the future, Sae is entering a present-day parallel universe. This apartment, with its best (and only) amenity being a short distance from campus, could have been his. Could have been shared by the two of you, even. 

If he had stayed, that is.

Sometimes Sae ponders what his life would be like if he stuck around. If he had never had the ego or the audacity to want to see more of the world. You know better than to ask him why he never visits you when you’re on a holiday break from school, and he thinks it’s because you still know him the best out of anybody, even Rin. The truth is, Sae is too uncomfortable to come crawling back to his childhood home that he grew up in, the one he’s spent years determined to grow out of. He only comes back home when absolutely necessary — out of eldest son/family obligation. 

This college apartment, seeing remnants of a life you’re living that he doesn’t know much about (even though all he has to do is ask, and you would gladly tell), feels wrongly nostalgic. Like, the sweatshirt lying haphazardly on the couch displaying a big, fat Tokyo U logo on its front could have been his instead of your roommate’s. He could have played college ball instead of trying to get recruited directly to the big leagues. Sae’s good enough to get a scholarship. Even received a letter informing him that Tokyo U would be more than glad to have him, full-ride. 

(The letter resides in the back of his closet, crumpled up but never forgotten.) 

And, most importantly, you wouldn’t be looking at him like this. 

Even drunk off of cheap alcohol, you sober up startlingly fast when you see him. You shouldn’t give him so much power over your life, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t relish in the overwhelming relief that you still love him just the same. Nothing ever changes back home, and he says this with disdain, but when it comes to your unshifting affection for him, he figures staying the same can’t be all bad.

“Y’know, it always feels like you’re judging me when you just stand there and look at everything.” An intoxicated you is an honest you. If he wasn’t so determined to mask everything about himself, he would have smiled at your admittance. 

He doesn’t smile, though. He just continues to let his cold eyes roam across the entirety of your cramped, college apartment.

— an indentation in the shape of you, tobio kageyama elevator pitch: idol!reader who goes into hiding after a major scandal despite being the victim x pro!tobio who's been hopelessly pining after you since forever. now you're in hiding, but also living in the apartment right across from his.

SEARCH NEWS: [NAME] [SURNAME] > TOP RESULTS (SORTED FROM MOST TO LEAST RECENT)

WHERE DID [NAME] [SURNAME] GO? *INCLUDES EXCLUSIVE PHOTO OF HER MOST RECENT SIGHTING!*Posted on March 10, 2019

[NAME]’S SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN, IDOL HAS NOT BEEN SPOTTED IN A WEEK Posted on January 4, 2019   BREAKING: [NAME] [SURNAME] GOES SOLO! LEAVES IDOL GROUP TO START HER OWN CAREER! Posted November 6, 2018

KENTARO TANAKA NOW DATING J-POP IDOL AYAME MATSUMOTO, [NAME]’S FELLOW GIRL GROUP MEMBER!Posted on November 1, 2018

AFTER RECEIVING BACKLASH FROM ANNOUNCEMENT OF HER RELATIONSHIP, [NAME] [SURNAME] ISSUES AN APOLOGY ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS Posted on September 3, 2018

NEW COUPLE ALERT! IDOL [NAME] AND HER RECORD LABEL’S EXECUTIVE, KENTARO TANAKA, SPARK DATING RUMORS Posted on August 16, 2018

When you spend most of your adolescent and young adult years standing in front of a camera, constantly served on a platter for the masses to scrutinize during your most formative years, you get used to being seen. People’s eyes locked in on you isn’t a comfortable feeling, but it’s one you’re very well acquainted with. Watchful, judging gazes cling to you like a second skin. 

It comes with the job is what your personal manager, Fumiko Gima, tells you, right before she tells you to toughen up. You had been fifteen at the time and saw a blogger discussing how you were the least attractive cast member on the children’s ensemble show you starred in. 

All eyes are on you from this point forward. You really going to let them see you cry? Fumiko is not a nice person, but she is incredibly kind, in her own way. She’s the type of person who believes in tough love, all while claiming that she doesn’t even think love exists. 

You think about the disapproving frown on her face when you revealed your relationship with Kentaro Tanaka. 

“You think you’re in love with him?” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Fumiko is barely seven years older than you. Her youth is evident in her flawless skin and shiny hair (both of which are maintained by very meticulous routines), but the flat expression she wears on her face makes her seem like a woman who found out the hard way that her thirties are not going the way she planned. You’re eighteen when she asks you this question, and you don’t know how a twenty-five year old woman can have such an intimidating aura, but you think that only adds to her beauty. 

“He told me he loves me.” 

“People like him and I don’t believe in love.” Fumiko makes a face; sometimes, she lets her poker face drop in favor of making a face of disgust, annoyance, irritation, or extreme smugness. Right now, she looks disgusted. “Well, I wouldn’t normally place myself in the same group as him, but our industries are pretty much the same. You don’t get to where we’re at because of love, that’s for damn certain.” 

At this point in time, you’re adamant that it’s love because that’s what he says it is, and you’ve never been in love before, but you know that it’s something great. You’re eighteen, and insecure, and he’s in such a powerful position — he could have anyone he wants, and he loves you, so he picks you. Maybe Fumiko is just bitter because no one’s ever chosen her. 

— angel of the morning, atsumu miya elevator pitch: historical, ambiguous war au ft. soldier!atsumu x the civilian sweetheart reader who nurses him back to health

It’s the thunder that wakes you first. 

Lately, you’ve been a light sleeper. Paranoia is a good companion whenever you’re a young, pitifully unmarried lady who lives alone. You keep a chair propped under the knob of the front door, and you no longer open any windows, scared that you’ll forget to lock them at night. 

Normally, it’s the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, or the creaks that come and interrupt the silence of the night (your parents used to swear that old houses just make those noises) that keeps you up. Sometimes it’s the neighbors next door; they like to get into screaming matches that seem to be so loud, they shake the walls of your home. 

It’s not your neighbors’ arguing that rattles the walls tonight. It’s the thunderstorm that the sweet old man at the farmer’s market warned you about. You be safe out, miss. Take some extra apples. It might be too flooded for you to go out like you normally do. 

You pull your blanket over your head, enveloping yourself in darkness but doing very little to block out the noise outside. The thunder seems to only grow louder, each boom punctuating the lightning that you’re certain is striking through the sky. It’s too loud. 

And rhythmic. 

You listen closer… Three booms in succession. A pause. Three more booms. After a minute of this pattern, the sound only comes more rapidly — louder than before, too. 

The loud booms — it’s not from the storm, then. 

There’s someone knocking at your door. 

You debate hiding under the blanket forever. Maybe this stranger will go away and leave once they realize that no one is going to answer the door. Besides, no one trustworthy is roaming the area at this time of night, right? What possible explanation could there be for someone to be stranded outside at midnight during a major thunderstorm? 

But the knocking persists. Whoever this stranger is, they don’t know when to quit. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear. 

“Open up!” A muffled voice still manages to cut through the front door, traveling all the way to your bedroom. It only serves to make you more afraid; what sort of monster is waiting for you outside? The storm rages on, and the knocking won’t stop. 

What happens if this person is in genuine trouble? Would a murderer truly be going through such lengths to kill someone? A thief? 

Well, you rationalize, it’s not as if you have many items worth stealing. Besides, you have no family, no marriage prospects, and a dwindling stash of money with no means to make more. You’re just existing at this point, and you’re surviving on limited time.

So you make your way to the front door, cringing as one section of the floor creaks as you tiptoe through the darkness of your home. You highly doubt the stranger outside can hear you, but you still hold your breath as you peek through the curtains. It’s too dark inside and out for anyone to notice the movement, and all you can make out is a large figure. There’s a knapsack by their feet and hanging off their shoulder is a gun. 

The knocks shouldn’t catch you off guard by now, but one particular hard bang against the door has you jumping in surprise, away from the window. 

This stranger must be a soldier. 

There’s not a lot of fighting to be done down here. The southern towns have mostly been unaffected. Most of the war is being fought up north. All the southern soldiers write back home, telling stories about the cities they visited, careful not to mention the red that runs through the streets and the way the citizens will have to update the population count on the sign outside their City Hall. 

But still, you know what everyone knows — when a soldier, especially one from your side, shows up on your front step, you better let him know that this home is now his. 

You slide the deadbolt with shaky hands, turn the lock on the doorknob, and only hesitate for a few seconds before removing the chair that serves as your last barrier. He’s a soldier, you remind yourself, hoping that you’re not wrong. The least you can do for him is offer him a hot bath for leaving him outside for so long. 

You open the door, revealing a blond-haired soldier weighed down from the weight of his sopping wet uniform, his hair sticking to his forehead because his face is also covered in rainwater, and it’s now that you notice that he’s got one arm wrapped around his abdomen. His hand is pressing down on his side, and you don’t think the dark liquid coating his fingers is water. 

“Finally.” He says. “I’m First Lieutenant Miya, and I fight for the south. I am seeking temporary refuge in your home, and I require only what you can afford to give me. I–“ Before he can finish rattling off what he’s been forced to memorize for times like these, First Lieutenant Miya falls forward, his body crashing into yours. 

It’s been a rough day. 

A rough week. 

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know? 

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize. 

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily. 

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan. 

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople. 

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom. 

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own. 

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying. 

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target. 

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body. 

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. 

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him. 

But if you die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard. 

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this. 

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next. 

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin. 

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that. 

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help. 

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then. 

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope. 

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

— to the victor belong the spoils, naoya zenin elevator pitch: the dark longfic i mentioned abt borderline yandere naoya + how he basically slaughtered your whole entire clan and is going to force you to marry him because you have a cursed technique that will basically grant him invincibility

“Who did this?” You’ve seen Naoya so angry that his words seemed to shake the very interior of the room he was shouting in. You’ve seen Naoya so furious that he had everyone in his vicinity cowering in fear, scared to face his merciless wrath. Never have you seen him so enraged that he can hardly speak, the sentence coming out from between bared teeth; they’re discernible growls more than they are words, but his message doesn’t need to be understood in order to know his intent. 

Naoya Zenin is out for blood. 

“Tell me who did this.” He demands, hand gripping your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and stare him directly in the eyes. You know why he does this; he can read you like a fucking book. He’ll know if you’re lying before you can even finish whatever fabricated story you’ve spent forever formulating. There’s no point in trying to trick him because it’ll cause him to get angrier, and then what? Then, you’ll have the whole entire room’s blood on your hands. A massacre dedicated just for you. 

You hadn’t cried when he had taken you from your home. You hadn’t cried when you were about to be killed by that curse. You hadn’t shed a single tear despite the unfamiliarity of the Zenin Estate, despite the fact that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not know, despite the fact that you’ve never been this far from home, suffering silently in feelings of isolation and despair. You hadn’t cried after all of that, yet now you’re sobbing? Now you’re here, struggling to stand on your own, clutching onto the material of his shirt as if he’s your only lifeline, dangerously close to burying your face in his chest and crying your little eyes out. He’s been angry more times than he’s ever felt any other emotion. He’s numb to the feeling of his blood rising, of his vision being tainted with red, of having nothing but sick thoughts and vivid memories of torn flesh and severed limbs surrounding him. This emotion isn’t foreign to him; it’s a part ofhim. And he’s angry, yes, but there’s something else that he feels when he looks down and sees you making yourself smaller, as if trying to use him as your own personal shield.

— balancing act [chapter one], satoru gojo elevator pitch: the first month of your bet will you and gojo inevitably get together <3 the start of this series.

You have what you order down to a T. You first started your tried and true method of restaurant ordering when you were but a wee little intern, too shy to go to town on a rack of ribs in front of your peers and bosses. Once you entered the city’s dating scene (which is actually Dante’s tenth circle of hell — it’s just never discussed because that’s truly how vile trying to find a good man in a big city is), you realized that there’s not much difference between lunch dates and client lunches. 

You have the obligatory greeting exchanges (“hi,” “hello,” “how are you,” etc.), the awkward smiles, the mental countdown going off in your head as you wait for the perfect moment to get right into business (“what do you expect to gain from this partnership?” — a line surprisingly used more often in your meetings with potential investors and clients). There’s the pained professionalism, the tight-lipped smiles, the napkin resting in your lap, the battle to maintain constant eye-contact. When you sit across from someone at a table, date or client, you don’t see the person; you see a goal. 

And you’re good at working towards a goal. It’s why you’ve always been the analyst your managers rely on, why you’ve morphed into the senior associate that all your juniors look up to at G&G Capital, and why you automatically figure that if you set your sights on a man only to have him end things, it’s not you who was at fault. It has to be him. You’ve charmed the toughest clients and built fantastic working relationships with the most well-connected M&A lawyers; if you’re this good at professional relationships, why wouldn’t you also be fan-fucking-tastic at a romantic one? 

All the men who have taken you out on dates before wanted to sweep you off your feet. An ex-boyfriend once admitted to you that you appeared so unimpressed at everything, it had become this fun, twisted competition with himself to see what he had to do to get a look of amazement on your face. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re impressed.” Gojo says gleefully, holding open the dirty glass door so you and Utahime can walk in. 

Utahime looks like Gojo just slid open the backdoor to a white van and told her to get in. There’s shock with a hint of disgust evident on her pretty, doll-like features, and you know you’ve got a similar expression, too. 

The floors inside this restaurant — if the dingy, dimly lit shack crammed with small tables and rickety chairs can even be considered a restaurant — are sticky with decades’ worth of mystery liquids that have congealed into the half-inch thick residue that coats the floorboards. You have to purposely think about moving one foot in front of the other in order to walk because actual pressure needs to be applied if you don’t want your heels to become glued to the floor. You’re walking in front of Utahime and Gojo, and you end up choosing a table in the far back; it looks the cleanest. Briefly, you wonder if you’re allowed to be here, then think better of it as Utahime takes the seat next to you, and Gojo takes the one across. You highly doubt there’s a hostess here that’s dictating where the customers sit.

Especially since, upon one glance of the whole place, you realize that it’s empty save for you three. 

“Gojo, if we get killed, I hope they murder you in front of us first,” Utahime hisses. Her family’s so rich (and traditional), she’s never willingly been to a restaurant that doesn’t have a Michelin star. Before college, she’s never even eaten out at a chain restaurant. Being caught in a place like this has Utahime mentally spiraling towards rock bottom. 

“I hope they would, too. I don’t think I have the stomach to watch you meet your grisly end.” Gojo says serenely. Usually, he says things loudly, teasingly, gets all up in your face. When it comes to Utahime, he likes to play at being nonchalant. He’s been doing this to her for over a decade now, and it still grates her. 

Before Utahime can reply, the shaky voice of an older woman is exclaiming, “Oh! Welcome in! Have you gotten a chance to look over the menu?” The voice belongs to a short, plump woman with gray hair, a wrinkly face, but a kind smile that reveals yellowing teeth. She’s got a slight hunch to her back and nails with overgrown cuticles. You try to do a mental calculation of what you could buy this building for, to ensure that this sweet old lady never has to work a day in her life ever again. 

“You know what I want, Mrs. Kimura.” Gojo is giving her one of his signature dazzling smiles. “You can just double the portions today since my friend Utahime here eats enough for a family of five.” 

Mrs. Kimura lets out a throaty laugh. Utahime kicks Gojo in the shin from underneath the table. You’re wondering what Gojo orders from this place, and why does he order here so often to the point of them memorizing his meals? 

“I’m glad you brought friends with you today, Satoru. Meals always taste better when shared with loved ones!” She directs a warm smile in your direction, and you feel bad for returning it with your normal polite one. Tiny and brief. It’s more muscle memory than born from any real emotion. She’s shuffling away to the kitchen before you can try to summon a genuine smile for her, and Utahime’s phone is ringing, filling this near empty space with the tinny, anxiety-inducing sound of an iPhone ringer. 

She doesn’t excuse herself; just looks down at the glowing screen, grabs her phone, and heads outside to take the call.

Which leaves you sitting across from Gojo. Just the two of you. Just the two of you in a dingy restaurant seemingly run by only one old woman. The table looks older than you. The chair you’re sitting on makes a weird squeaky noise with any slight movement of your body. There’s no decor on the walls, no windows either. Nothing to distract you, nothing for you to feign interest in as you wait for Utahime to come back. 

You straighten your posture, try to discreetly look out the front door to gauge how close Utahime is to wrapping up her conversation, and find yourself with no choice but to look in front of you. All you see is Gojo.

He’s tall, you know that. Broad shoulders. Definitely not hideous, you can give him that much. You just feel shocked at how much space he takes up, how it feels like your eyes have to stretch to try to accommodate all of him. 

You don’t know why you feel so awkward, almost like a teenager going on her very first date with a boy she barely knows but still, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to impress. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt this way, and you definitely don’t like this feeling at all. 

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“I like to support small businesses.” He’s not teasing you, but Gojo has this bad habit of always adding a playful inflection to his words. 

“I hope you tip well. You look like their only supporter.” It’s not meant to be an insult to the painfully empty restaurant. You know how much Gojo is worth; when Itadori Googled “Satoru Gojo net worth” and showed the results to everyone, Gojo caught him in the act, looked at the top result, and threw his head back in laughter as he told Itadori to “add an extra zero and triple the number.” You think back to your calculation and assessment of the place. “Might as well buy the business.” 

“You make capitalism so cute.” He has to be teasing you now. You scowl. 

(He means it.)

— i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed, satoru gojo elevator pitch: yandere gojo, royal au, nanny!reader... yeah idk what happened to this fic either, just that it was depraved and i wish i wrote more to share LOL

You’re acutely aware of the noise you’re making, every huff and small, desperate gasp for breath only further betraying your location, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You know, deep inside your pounding, frightened heart, that it doesn’t really matter how fast or how far you run. 

I will always find you.

Just the mere thought of him is enough for you to ignore the ache in your legs and push forward. If you can find the exit, if you can just see the daylight, surely you’d be able to—

You stop in your tracks.

There are two paths: one right, one wrong. Left or right? Freedom or imprisonment? 

There’s no time to waste, but you can’t make a choice. Which decision would be the right one? Surely either route would still be able to lead you to the exit, right? The sharp snap! of a branch being trampled on leaves you even more frightened. Without thinking, you take a left.

— i think you're too divine for my human mind, undecided elevator pitch: rough around the edges but w a heart of gold underground fighter!character x ring girl!reader. i think this was gonna be for bakugo LMAO but i do not have bnha brain rot so maybe a bllk or jjk or hq boy... NO ONE SAY ATSUMU I DON'T WANNA GIVE IT TO ATSUMU

The couch seems to shift with his weight, and you swallow hard, staring straight ahead at the same cement wall you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes because you’re still too much of a fucking wimp to navigate this area by yourself. 

Despite the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the couch, there’s only about one foot of space separating his knee from yours. You suppose that he gets away with the manspreading since he probably has no qualms with punching anyone who voices their offense. After witnessing just how brutal the infamous [ring name nickname] can get, you know that you’re definitely not going to be the one to say shit to him. You can’t even look at him.

Where the fuck is your sister? You have your arms crossed, covering your torso, and you think you must have subconsciously pressed yourself as far back into the couch as you possibly could. Everything about you must scream out “she wants to disappear!!!”, and the worst part of it all would be the fact that it’s the truth. You knew coming down here would be a bad idea, and the sinking feeling of regret is practically solidifying itself into your stomach. You think you could throw up. 

“Hey,” a voice — a deep voice, scratchy and low and so scarily close to you — breaks the silence. “You must be…”

Of course, you’re used to it by now. Always being referred to as “Akemi’s little sister” no matter the situation, the person, the setting. It makes sense, you rationalize. Everyone knows Akemi. And so, by extension, they must know you — her shadow, her little sister. 

“...helped out Sakura.” 

“What?” You don’t know anyone named Sakura, but you finally turn your head to properly look at him as you answer. He’s got on a white shirt now, incredibly form-fitting, and he’s staring right back at you. You're quick to meet his eyes before getting too nervous and focusing on the space just below his eyes. Then, that becomes too close to eye contact for comfort, so you settle for staring at his jaw. It’s a nice jaw. Sharp. He could probably cut you with it if you contradict any of his statements, so maybe you should pretend to know this Sakura girl. 

“You must be the girl that helped out Sakura.” He repeats. He says it slow and almost carefully, like he thinks you must be some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend the most basic of statements. “Gave her your jacket.” He clarifies, and it makes sense. The girl with the hot pink colored hair must have been Sakura. 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

“So why are you here?” 

“Huh?”

“Y’know… Pretty girls like you don’t normally end up here without a reason. So what’s your reason?”

He says it so casually, throwing it out there as easily as a punch. He probably means nothing deep by it, probably doesn’t even realize the fact that it is a compliment. 

He called you pretty.

“My sister.” You answer, finally looking away at him to look down at your hands that have settled nicely into your lap. Your cheeks feel a lot warmer than they did a second ago. You decide to blame this as a result of too many sweaty people in one basement. 

“She a ring girl?” 

“She’s dating a fighter here.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” 

“Are you dating a fighter here, too?” 

You look him properly in his face after that comment, almost resisting the urge to laugh. Fear that he’ll get offended and smack you into the floor stops that reaction. Instead, you stare at him, slightly surprised, lips almost curled up into an amused smile at just how unbelievable it would be for you to date anyone like him. 

“You finally did it.” 

“Did what?” 

“Look at me.” He holds eye contact, almost as if he’s trying to challenge you into looking away. “I don’t bite, y’know.” He smiles, showing off a surprisingly straight row of white teeth, not a single tooth missing despite the nature of his… job. “It’s against the rules.”

Yeah. Because [character], the fucking [ring name nickname], looks like the type of man who follows the rules.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (Whittaker! Master x reader)

Summary: you find yourself growing feelings for the person who's supposed to be your enemy

Warnings: Dhawan! Doctor and Whittaker! Master (whoo!), secret relationship, worries of possible disownment (it doesn't happen), this has a pretty happy ending given the direction I could've gone with it

A/N: I don't know if anyone will read this because I'm not sure how popular Whittaker's version of The Master is but I find her to be incredibly attractive mkay. and I've currently been obsessed with evermore so naturally I just had to write another song fic, this time based loosely off ivy (my other evermore based fics are still wips, but I plan on finishing and posting those soon <3)

You didn't know how you went from despising The Master to loving her, but it had happened. All too fast and all too soon for you to recognize until you were in too deep to pull yourself back out again.

Her tidal wave swept over you, the rough waves keeping you from swimming back to shore, threatening to drown you if you made the wrong move. But they never would, because as unbelievable as it was, she loved you back.

You were just a simple house that stood out in the woods somewhere, abandoned, old, forgotten. Until her ivy was planted. It grew and grew, spreading quickly until you found yourself completely engulfed.

You would never be the same again. You could never give her up. And she could never take away her love without destroying you both in the process.

The way it came about was simple, really. You and The Doctor were under attack yet again by some alien species for trying to fix whatever damage they'd created, causing you to be separated.

You'd been hiding, doing your best not to get caught when you heard a silky voice coming from behind you.

"You know, if you're trying to avoid being seen, there's not the best place to do it."

Knowing who it was, you turned hesitantly, coming face to face with The Master.

"I could see you from your little 'hiding spot' miles away, and I have no doubt the people you're hiding from could, too." She had a smug look on her face, almost as if she was proud for calling you out on your poor decision making.

"What do you want?" You asked with a frown, immediately under the impression that she was up to no good.

She made a face of mock offense. "What, I can't offer you some simple, life saving advice?"

"You can't, no. Not without wanting something in return." You eyed her suspiciously, trying to figure out what her game plan was in being here.

"Oh, really? And why's that?" She leaned forward, her piercing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike most individuals she came across, you didn't look away.

"Because you're always up to something. You always have to have an ulterior motive," you said calmly, not at all deterred by her closeness.

The Master had to admit, she was impressed by both your reasoning and your lack of fear. "Alright, fine. I'll admit it, me giving you some piss poor advice is not the only reason why I'm here." She straightened herself back up, no longer standing as close. "I'm here because..." She let out a deep sigh, looking away. "I was- worried about you."

You let out a laugh at her statement. "You were worried about me?"

"Don't laugh." The Master snapped at you suddenly, shooting you a glare. "I didn't have to come rescue you, you know. I could've just left you here. To die."

"But you didn't. Because you were worried about me," you lightly teased, finding it amusing that one of the most ruthless and ambitious people in the universe cared enough to save the companion of their enemy.

She groaned in frustration. "Yes, okay, fine. I was worried, alright? Is that what you want to hear?" She held out a glove cladded hand for you to take. "Now, do you want to get out of here and survive, or not?"

You decided it would be wise not to push anymore of her buttons, as it was entirely possible she could change her mind and actually leave you there. So, you simply nodded in response, taking her hand and allowing her to guide you away from the fighting and back to her TARDIS. She then dropped you off at a safer location nearby, making sure you agreed not to mention any of what'd happened to The Doctor.

"I won't tell a soul, I swear," you'd promised her, your words sincere. It almost looked like she was smiling when the TARDIS doors shut. Then she was gone, leaving you to face The Doctor and his worried filled questions alone, but not before taking a piece of your heart with her.

You'd caught up with her again at some sort of alien marketplace, gifting her one of the planet's many different kinds of flora as a gift, your own way of saying 'thank you for saving me'. She'd accepted it wholeheartedly, setting it someplace beside her bed so it would be the last thing she'd see every night before she went to sleep, and the first thing she'd see every morning when she woke.

Your first true 'date' was the time she left a note on your dresser (how she got it there, you'll never know) telling you to dress somewhat fancy and be ready by nine. She took you to see the first ever showing of the musical Cats, of all things, though it was really just an excuse to see you again. Regardless of whether you enjoyed the show or not, the night ended on a high note (pun intended) when she gave you a gift of her very own; a kiss.

This back and forth dance of sneaking away together and leaving each other again when it was finally time to part went on for months, and though you never put a name on it, it was quite clear to both you and everyone else that you were head over heels in love.

You thought the two of you could be like that for the rest of eternity, hiding out from unknown forces who planned to take you away from her arms, cherishing each other in secret while your enemies threatened to rip you both apart and tarnish your new found love had they known. But as you had learned from your many travelings, nothing could last forever.

The Doctor had noticed you were acting differently. You'd been staying out later and later, and seemed much more occupied with whatever was going on in your mind than any adventures he took you on. As it was none of his business, he really didn't want to pry, but eventually his curiosity got the best of him and he just had to know.

He was tinkering with some sort of ancient alien tech when you walked into the TARDIS's control room.

"Whatcha working on?" You questioned as you made your way over.

"Oh, nothing. Just a piece of junk, really."

You nodded at his response, completely unaware of the absolute bomb of a question he was about to drop.

"Have you been seeing anyone recently?"

You froze, unsure how to process what he just said. "...what?"

"It's just-" he set down what he'd been holding on a nearby table and sighed. "You've been acting differently, these past couple of months. And, it's not that it's necessarily a bad thing, as you seem to be much happier, I'm just- curious, to find out why. Meeting someone new and being in a relationship can definitely cause that, so I was just asking."

You didn't know how to respond. Of course, you were seeing someone. Someone you probably shouldn't be. You didn't want to lie to him, but you knew he was bound to find out the truth eventually, so...

"I am seeing someone, actually." You said cautiously, testing the waters.

The Doctor perked up at this new piece of information. "Really? That's wonderful! Tell me, who are they? What are they like?"

You sucked in a deep breath while making a face that was full of pure nervous energy. "You won't like it."

"Nonsense! I'm sure I'll like whoever you've decided to take as a potentional life partner."

You blinked a few times at his choice of words before shaking your head, deciding it'd be best to just ignore it entirely. "Are you positive? 'Cause I... I just really don't want you to hate me." You said awkwardly, accompanied by some weak laughter.

He frowned slightly at your words. "That's ridiculous, I could never hate you. Now, tell me, who is it? Come on, I promise I won't be too mad," he lightly joked as he gave you a reassuring smile. "I trust your judgment, I'm sure they're fantastic, whoever this person is-"

"It's The Master," you suddenly blurted out, knowing the longer you listened to his praise the worse it would feel once you finally disappointed him. "I'm- I'm seeing The Master."

The Doctor just stood there, a look of bewilderment frozen on his face. "...what?"

You let out a sigh, having expected this kind of reaction already."It's The Master," you affirmed, having crossed the point of no return. "I- I know you're probably upset, and rightfully so, but she's really not that bad, once you get to know her-"

"Has she hypnotized you?" This time, it was you who was getting cut off mid sentence. "Has she threatened to hurt you in any way? Is she forcing you to go traveling with her?" Surprisingly enough, he didn't sound mad, like you thought he would. He didn't look it, either. He just seemed to be the reasonable amount of concerned.

You shook your head no at his questions. "No, she hasn't. I travel with her because I want to, because I like doing it. She-" you voice became slightly quieter as you recounted one of the many dates she'd taken you on "-she took me to see the aurora borealis, once. On a planet that had been completely covered in snow and ice."

That trip was especially vivid in your memory, partially due to how many layers you had to wrap up in so you wouldn't get cold. The part you remembered the most, though, was when The Master had noticed you'd forgotten to bring a pair of gloves with you, and took off her own in an effort to help keep your hands warm.

She could've just given you her gloves to wear, which might've been easier, but she hadn't, choosing to take your hands tightly in hers instead. That was the first time she'd ever done that, both in holding your hand properly and taking off her gloves in front of you.

The Doctor noticed the look of calm that washed over you when you were talking about her, one that not even hypnotism could conjure up. "Do you love her?" He asked softly, already getting a sense as to what the answer might be.

"Yes, I do." You professed as your eyes met his. His gaze was understanding and warm, the exact opposite of what you'd thought it'd be.

"Well, if that's the case-" He began, walking over to the TARDIS's control panel and fiddling around with it some "-then I suppose I have no choice..."

You sucked in a breath of air, incredibly tense as you waited for him to say what he was going to do with you. Maybe he'd just throw you in a black hole and be done with it. Or, worse, maybe he'd drop you off on some random planet somewhere where there was absolutely no chance for survival.

"...but to take you to see her." He finished with a flourish as the TARDIS landed. The Doctor opened the door and stepped outside, gesturing for you to follow him.

"This had better be good," a voice grumbled from in front of you, belonging to none other than The Master herself. Her gaze softened when she spotted you, though it didn't last very long, her eyes narrowing at The Doctor in suspicion. "What's all this?"

"I just wanted to say-" He turned, beckoning you to come closer "-that I know about your relationship with each other. And I'm not mad. In fact, I'm delighted."

You and The Master exchanged a look of confusion and disbelief. The Doctor noticed this, continuing nonetheless.

"It's true. Now, I know we haven't always been on the best of terms-"

"That's one way to put it," The Master muttered, crossing her arms.

"-but I don't want to make any unnecessary assumptions about the two of you. And while part of me does believe this could possibly be some sort of an eleborate plan to take me down-"

"Doctor," you whispered harshly, The Master smirking in amusement at your reaction.

"-I also don't want to define you only by your past mistakes." If he heard you, he didn't show it.

"I have a million reasons why I shouldn't trust you." The Doctor said directly to the clearly unimpressed woman standing in front of him. "But so did they, and now look where we are."

His words seemed to actually have an affect on her given how she'd uncrossed her arms and appeared to be actually listening. Until she opened her mouth. "So what is this then, you deciding to give us your blessing?" She sneered, going back to being defensive.

"Master." You took a step forward, offering your hand out to her, which she gladly took. "I think what he's trying to get at here, is that even if he doesn't trust you, he's not going to judge or shame me for doing the exact opposite. I can still be friends with him while also seeing you. That's all I've ever wanted."

The words you spoke seemed to have finally gotten to The Master. The ever permanent scowl she usually had on her face when being forced to interact with The Doctor disappeared, replaced by the faintest smile that only you could discern.

The Doctor clapped his hands together once in satisfaction. "Great! I'll leave you two to it, then."

The Master rolled her eyes in annoyance, causing you to let out a quiet giggle. "Yeah, you do that," she sarcastically replied, watching as The Doctor entered the TARDIS.

You waved him goodbye before turning back to the Time Lady in front of you. "So, where to now?" You asked excitedly, giving the hand you were holding a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed yours back, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Wherever you want."

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87

[tgmsunmontue]

Hangster Meet-cute I guess - this was meant to be a short ficlet I started on my phone, but then I needed to distract myself so... here. Have 2k, dialogue heavy with Jake having three sisters who do the opposite of cock-block him. (Rated Mature but I guess I am also writing a second very explicit sequel which already has over 2k).

I can't post it on AO3 until I finish a couple of other fandom WIPs because I have a very real fear of being hunted down by friends in that fandom. They're terrifying. And have been waiting ~10 years. So hiding in Tumblr for now.

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

               His eyes track the attractive bare-chested server across the room. He looks older than most of the others, actually nearer Jake's age, perhaps a little older. He's clearly comfortable in his own skin, laughing and joking with the other servers and patrons alike. Jake doesn't usually like facial hair on his partners, but he'd let it slide for a taste of that...

               "Do you think I can order him?" Jake asks, and he knows it's going to wind up every single person sitting at the table with him.

               "Don't even think about it!" Katie hisses, giving him a sharp elbow in the ribs and Laura is glaring at him from across the table. He can see the lecture shaping on the tip of her tongue about not making servers uncomfortable in their place of work. Even in a place where the servers are mostly bare-chested men. But it's his sister's 40th birthday, and apparently Bird on a Wire is the place to go. So here he is. About to be hen-pecked by his three sisters. Ivy is just laughing though, nodding her approval and he reaches across the table for a fist-bump.

               "I won't. I promise. But I can't promise to not think about it. Appreciating the place was why I was allowed to come along, right?"

               "You were allowed to come because you promised to behave."

               "I promised no such thing," Jake replies, and the same server he was watching before is approaching them and Jake licks his lips, because the view is only improving.

               "Evening everyone, sorry for the delay. We're a little understaffed tonight so I'm just here to take drink orders. That's all I'm trusted with front of house," he says, and his little self-depreciating smile has Jake's lips twitching in response.

               "And back of house?" Jake asks.

               "Back of house I'm in charge baby."

               Jake's eyebrows shoot up and he grins, a little laugh escapes, god, he can't believe he's sitting at a table with all of his sisters while a guy makes eyes at him. He's pretty sure eyes are being made. He's a little out of practice. But he's not dead.

               "So, what can I get for you all? Are you celebrating something special?"

               "It's her birthday. A significant number that I can't mention upon pain of death."

               Ivy smiles sweet-sharp and he gets kicked in the shin regardless.

               "I'll have a Blueberry Margarita, she's having a Strawberry Sour..." Ivy starts, pausing to look expectantly at Katie.

               "I'll have the Coconut Daiquiri thanks."

               "And for you?"

               Jake quickly runs his eyes down the menu and stops at the first one... A Little Passion.

               "A Little Passion."

               "Sure thing. One of all my favorites coming right up."

               "I hope the drinks are better than your flirting, I feel like I need to hose you two off..." Ivy says looking between them and Jake frowns at her, but he notes that the server (he didn't introduce himself, and Jake wishes he had a name already) just looks quietly amused.

               "I've never had any complaints. And I don't get paid to flirt with customers. I actually get paid to cook. And occasionally make cocktails."

               Jake realises that's what he had meant about being in charge back of house and he's always had a thing for... competence. Well, he's got a thing for good-looking guys, them being good at something generally means they're dedicated lovers and it's not steered him wrong (much) in the past.

               "Rooster! They need you in the kitchen."

               "And duty calls..."

               Jake watches Rooster (and what the fuck kind of name is that?) tip an imaginary hat at them before he leaves to walk towards the bar where he talks to a woman and gestures toward their table. Then he's shrugging on a black chef's jacket with brightly coloured cuffs and front panel and buttoning it closed. Shame. Then he's giving a little salute to Jake and fucking winking as he disappears into the kitchen and Jake is pretty sure his cheeks are going to hurt from grinning so much.

               "Could you stop looking like you want to climb him like a tree? Please?"

               "Ain't no other way I can look at him... and you told me I couldn't flirt with him."

               "Was that you not flirting?"

               "You're just jealous."

               "Last time we take you anywhere..."

               "We say that every time, and yet we always bring him..."

               "I'm a fucking delight. Plus you all bond over finding me annoying, don't pretend you don't. Imagine your relationship with each other if you didn't have me for you to direct your annoyance towards..."

               "Why do you think they call him Rooster?" Katie asks and Jake's train of thought derails completely.

               "I think you just broke his brain."

               "Brain cell you mean."

               "I thought Javy had custody this weekend?"

               "Fuck off..." Jake mumbles, ignoring them. Who needs fucking enemies when you have sisters?

               "You definitely want to fuck something."

               Jake groans but also can't say anything, definitely can't disagree because she's not wrong, they'll just roast him further. He glances back toward the bar and there are two people there now, both mixing drinks but clearly having a conversation. One is the same woman from before, one of the few women who work here, the other is an older man, fully clothed, and Jake's not sure but he looks familiar. They almost seem to be arguing and then she's pulling at his shirt and shaking a finger before leaving him behind the bar, laughing at him as she walks toward them with a tray of drinks.

               "Evening everyone. My name is Phoenix. I have a Blueberry Margarita, Strawberry Sour, Coconut Daiquiri and A Little Passion?"

               "The margarita is for me, sour for her," Ivy states. "Daiquiri for her and the drink drowning in innuendo is for him..."

               "You got a name handsome?" Phoenix asks, placing the drinks down in the right places but giving him a look that tells him he's being assessed and maybe even found wanting. It's not a familiar feeling at all and he instantly feels a little defensive.

               "His name is Jake."

               "I can speak for myself..." Jake grumbles, taking a sip of his drink, and fuck that's good. Lychee sweetness off-set with the tang of passionfruit and lime meaning there's no trace of vodka at all.

               "And you're all... sisters?"

               "Unfortunately," Jake says, and the flat look he gets from Phoenix has Laura cackling madly which makes Phoenix smirk in amusement. A little. At least she seems to like someone.

               "Have you been sent out to dig up information?" Laura asks, and she's fucking gleeful and Jake doesn't know what he wants the answer to be. Busies himself looking at the menu and wondering what Rooster would recommend.

               "Well, it was me or Rooster's dad and I thought I'd be the slightly less embarrassing option."

               Jake's eyes flick to the man behind the bar and realizes now why he looks familiar. They've even got the same fucking moustache. He catches Jake looking and nods his head, raises a glass in a toast and Jake flushes, coming back to the conversation and startles to hear Laura giving Phoenix his entire dating history. Jesus.

               "Could we maybe be allowed to just ask each other out? Pretty sure we're adults and don't need to have a playdate organised."

               "So, you are going to ask him out?"

               "If it's not an asshole move to do it when it's his place of work..." Jake mutters, giving Laura a side-eye but she just takes a sip of her drink and pulls a face at him.

               "Oh, it's a little bit of an asshole move, but he can take care of himself. I just wanted to make sure you weren't too much of an asshole. And you've got three sisters being pretty decent wingmen, so you can't be too bad."

               "Hear that, you have us to thank."

               He's never going to hear the end of this, regardless of the outcome, so he might as well try for a variety on a good one so he has a minimum of regrets.

               "Are you ready to order? Or would you like me to come back?"

               "Oh, I want you to come back solely for the entertainment value, but I'm ready to order. I was ready before we got here."

               "Great!"

               Jake lets his sisters order first and then opens his mouth to place his own but Phoenix is snapping the cover over the tablet and shaking her head.

               "You have any allergies of food intolerances handsome?"

               "No..." Jake says slowly, realization dawning.

               "Great, then I'm just going to let you trust the chef..."

               "Not a fan of shellfish," he offers quickly, before she walks away, and she nods and gives him a quick grin, it reminds him of a shark.

               "This is the best birthday ever..." Ivy says, looking incredibly entertained.

               "Glad I could be of service," Jake says, rolling his eyes.

---

               The food is fucking amazing, even if he doesn't know exactly what he's putting in his mouth. He recognizes some things, he's done fine dining before, even if it's never been in a place where the wait-staff were semi-undressed. His sisters have all picked stuff off his plate despite his best efforts to guard his food; Ivy making him swear to try and get the recipe for whatever the hell he was served as his entree.

               His sisters pass on dessert but agree to share a cheese plate and he waits for something to come out just for him and is disappointed when nothing appears. Then someone does appear, and for a second he thinks it's Rooster however...

               "Hi, I'm Goose. Rooster's dad..."

               What the actual fuck. Does no-one have normal names?

               "Does everyone have bird names?"

               "Only the important people," Phoenix states, and she's grabbing Goose's arm and attempting to pull him away, but the older man just grins madly, easily resisting being moved. "He's going to kill you, leave them alone."

               "I ain't bothering them. I'm not bothering you am I?"

               "Oh no, this is the best," Laura says, popping a slice of cheese in her mouth.

               "Baby Goose hasn't flirted with anyone in years -" Goose starts, and then Rooster is behind him, eyes flashing with annoyance and hmm if that look doesn't give Jake a little thrill. He's not wearing his chef coat, and nor is he shirtless, but he's wearing a tight enough tank to show off his, well, his everything, and then a loose button down clearly pulled on in haste because it's inside-out.

               "Dad! For... god. I don't flirt with customers because I don't normally see any."

               "And you also suck at flirting," Phoenix interjects.

               "He's doing fine..." Jake says and Rooster catches his eye and grins slowly, eyebrows quirking, tongue poking out just enough to tease and Jake grins back.

               "They deserve each other..." Ivy says dryly, and Jake looks to her, confused.

               "What?"

               "We might as well all be invisible. Rooster's lucky the backup got here to save his distracted ass..." Phoenix says.

               "Hey! I'm not even meant to be working tonight."

               "Bet you're glad you did though..." Goose says and Jake's glad that Rooster looks as exasperated with his family as Jake is with his... actually, on that note.

               "Happy birthday Ivy, I believe it's Laura's turn to pick up the tab so I will see you all later. Uh."

               He stops then, suddenly unsure of what his next action should be, but then Rooster is stepping away from his father, making a follow me gesture with his head and Jake follows willingly.

               "Hi again..."

               "Hi."

               "Did you enjoy everything?"

               "I sure did."

               "That's what I like to hear..."

               "So, you come here often?" Jake asks and then cringes, mortified, because what the actual fuck is he thinking? The man works here. Phoenix had snorted as she walked past with Goose, shaking her head and giving him that same unimpressed look, although maybe she looked a little fonder. Hard to get a read.

               "Only every day of my life... I live upstairs."

               Jake's mouth goes dry at his suggestive tone and he swallows instinctively to try and wet it and Rooster's eyes flick between his lips and eyes and Jake's breath catches.

               "I really want to take you on a date though... but what I really need is a shower."

               Jake can see he’s hot, sweaty and slightly oil covered from working in the kitchen and it does nothing but make him feel equally hot.

               "Not on my behalf you don’t…" He'd just want to make him all hot and sweaty again. Yeah. Totally normal reaction.

               “Hmm. Good to know," Rooster says, and Jake is pretty sure his thoughts are easily readable on his face. "Did you want dessert?"

               "I don’t know. What’s on offer?" He matches the tone Rooster had used when he'd mentioned living upstairs and the slow smile he gets has his stomach flipping in anticipation.

               "Phoenix, I’m out," Rooster states, reaching to knock his knuckles on the bar top twice before grabbing Jake’s hand and tugging him toward the exit.

PART TWO

[laurfilijames]

All week I told myself that on Sunday, I was going to write all day.

I opened my laptop up for the first time in two weeks. I haven't written a word since I finished editing Expensive and tried for over an hour to work on my series Like My Dreams.

I thought about it all week and have been so eager to continue it, only the words won't come.

I know it's not for lack of passion or wanting to; I think about this story (and all the other ones) constantly.

I've been trying to deny some feelings for a while, or chalk it up to getting too much in my own head, but today it's come down heavier than ever and what is ultimately responsible for blocking my creativity and turning my love for my stories from thoughts into actual sentences.

I'm lonely.

I've never felt so alone.

The Charlie fandom seems to be relatively non existent, or just extremely quiet.

I have no space. No where I fit in.

I'm on the outskirts, trying to find a spot, constantly seeing if there is a way I can have a place for my ideas, stories, and even friendship, and have it hold some value to the others I'm around.

The more I post on here, the less I feel seen.

Engagement on this platform has reduced drastically across the board, and it's effecting so many artists.

It's not about numbers. I'm sure some of you are probably thinking "your last fic has over 100 notes". Yeah. It does. Almost all of those notes are likes, and more than half the reblogs are my own.

What I'm seeking is engagement. Conversation. A likeness and kinship started by a common interest that blooms into simple conversations and thoughts shared.

Comparison is a bitch. I see so many people living the Tumblr life I wish to have. Asks, comments, reblogs of teasers and moodboards for upcoming fics screaming of excitement and praise and how eager they are to read it. People dropping everything they're doing to read the latest chapter of their friend's new fic.

I realize the many reasons why I'm in a different position than they are, but lately it's been screaming at me louder than ever that I'm lacking something meaningful or whatever I'm doing on here isn't enough.

I've tried creating a buzz around my stories. I am aware that most of the time I write for unpopular characters with a smaller fan base, so I set the bar lower but am still left feeling inadequate even when I write for the popular ones. Whenever I've shared snippets of WIPs in hopes to gain some excitement from my readers, it falls short. Usually it'll inspire me to keep going, to write better than ever and make this next fic The Best One that makes me so happy and excited to get out. (For Charlie, I'll say, and write something I'm so unbelievably proud of) and then sometimes it makes me wonder if I should bother continuing at all.

I know I am not owed anything by anyone and no one is obligated to read or comment or anything of the sort, and I am beyond grateful for the comments and support I do receive, and the friendships I've made, old and new.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting at here, I just needed to write it down and "talk" it out.

I've been battling the decision to continue writing but not share it. I don't want that to happen, because as much as I write these stories for myself, a lot of the fun of it comes from being able to share it with all of you.

Nothing dramatic is happening. I'm not leaving, and I will be writing again because I'm not at all done with what I have to say about these characters, I just felt this needed to be said and already feel a little lighter by sharing it.

Write your stories, comment on your favourite fics, scream with your mutuals about a photo or gif that inspired something in you, tell your writer friends and writers you've never spoken to but love their stories just how much you do... I promise it makes more of an impact than you know. 💗

[snarky-magpie]

20 Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴄ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀꜱ

Thanks for the tag, @fiendishfyre! 1. How many works do you have on A03? 16 published, 9 hidden.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 673,850. I don't have a problem. No sir.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter atm, original, and Voltron (formerly, lol).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 1. PS. I Hate You. 2. Many Happy Halloweens 3. Catching Crows 4. Call Me By My Name 5. Stealing The Seeker (my first HP fic, yay)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, to every single one unless they're rude (they usually aren't). I spend way too much time online and love to talk about my stories.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? None, really. I mostly write HEA. I am planning an MCD fic, but I don't know if I'll find the strength to actually write it.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Definitely PS. I Hate You. The epilogue will give you diabetes.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, I'm not famous enough for hate. Most people in the fandom have been lovely. I've only got hate from prongsfoot shippers for saying there's a way to enjoy both jegulus and prongsfoot without hating on the other (ironically). Soured me on the whole ship pretty fast, though.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, but mostly for Voltron. I only have one smutty HP fic. I do love writing it, though, and I've got an explicit jegulus story in the works.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Tried Voltron x Wednesday, and it was a really cool experience, but I gave up due to a lack of readership.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Tried to, with one of my betas. Got as far as two chapters.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Jegulus jegulus jegulus jegulus jegulus (I'm normal about them)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Of Bluebells and Deception. Don't look for it, it's one of the hidden ones.

16. What are your writing strengths? Insert the meme 'you people have strengths?' Dunno. Based on what people say, I'm funny? Yeah, it comes as a shock to me too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Timeline consistency. Please, if you love me, never check if the dates, years, and ages of the characters align. Also, descriptions, and I tend to overdo it with internal monologues.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I write everything in another language since my first language is Czech. It's tough and gives me permanent impostor syndrome.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Voltron: Legendary Defender

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Ironically, my least popular one (by a long shot). Moorland Skies. Tagging: @courfee @thebibutterflyao3 @howmanyfrecklesdoyousee @starlightvld (No pressure, of course!) And whoever else wants to play.

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes for the tag!! I did this back in like... October, and a LOT has changed since then lol

How many works do you have on ao3?

29

What's your total ao3 word count?

299,988 (though this includes 110,000 from the co-written PJO AU and 2,000 words from Manu's fic that I podficced to)

What fandoms do you write for?

Only RWRB for now, though never say never to others. I recently read Check, Please! and I've had some thoughts, but I have far too many WIPs for RWRB to write them rn. Also I have some ideas for The Pairing, but again, I have... so many RWRB wips...

Top five fics by kudos:

Longer Than Most | 26K, trans Henry accidental pregnancy (also this is how I found out it had become my top kudos-ed fic AH)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair | 7K, YouTube interview

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) | 6K, epistolary roommates

Claremont 2008 | 28K, canon divergence where Ellen gets elected in 2008, childhood friends to lovers

(Dil)Do It Yourself | 17K, meet cute at a DIY dildo workshop

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to. But. I have gotten quite behind recently. I would love to catch up but it's just a bit overwhelming at the moment.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really have any angsty endings?? but a fic @affectionatelyrs and I are working on is going to have an ambiguous ending and my joke is that someone should the version of it where things take the angsty route

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mostly write happy endings, but I am going to say that Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) is the happiest because it's kinda the tropiest

Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, but I've gotten one or two weird comments, or comments asking about updates.

Do you write smut?

I do! (this is one of the things that's changed since the fall)

Craziest crossover:

The closest I've gotten to a crossover is the PJO AU, but that's not even an actual crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! Super Six and the Siren's Call with @inexplicablymine and @read-and-write- was the first, and then I wrote Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) with @affectionatelyrs. I also did the podficcing of the voice notes for love has a voice (and it's yours) by Manu. I've also got a couple more projects coming up with Jamie also.

All time favorite ship?

Well that I've written for, FirstPrince :)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Unfortunately I don't know if I'll ever finish Baby's First Pride because I've grown a ton as a writer since then and I would want to redo the old chapters and that just isn't all the compelling to me anymore...

What are your writing strengths?

I fucking hate this question. But I am going with dialogue and humor (and humorous dialogue) which has been co-signed by others so I feel less weird about saying this.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would like to be able to keep smut more concise at times, because it always turns into a Big Scene but it doesn't always need to be a Big Scene. And I've been trying to work on a particular style of writing which is a bit more uhhh snappy? I don't know how to describe it. But that's still a huge work in progress, because I always get more rambly than I want.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I definitely try to include it for the characters in RWRB who speak other languages, and when I do I lean on my friends who speak those languages as a native speaker.

First fandom you wrote in?

Officially: RWRB. For myself: HP.

Favorite fic you've written?

Honestly it's always whatever I'm working on at the moment, which is a couple of WIPs: Fire Island WIP, Parasocial Relationship AU with @affectionatelyrs, and my Big Bang fic come to mind.

But really I want to know what y'all's favorite fic of mine is!!!!

I'll tag 20 people, sorry if anyone's done this recently, but in case anyone wants to go again: @mainstreamelectricalparade @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist @littlemisskittentoes @gay-flyboys

and @songliili @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

and @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @captainjunglegym @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise

and @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bribumblebee @nocoastposts @magicandarchery @itsmaybitheway!!!

[slippinmickeys]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers

I was tagged by @agent-troi and @randomfoggytiger Thanks for the tag, guys!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

53

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

712,000 exactly, which is sort of creepy?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files mainly, though a million years ago I wrote two fics for JAG, and technically, I have a His Dark Materials fic (but it's an XF crossover)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Mesas of Deuteronilus Mensae

Prompt Drabble Collection

The Annapolis Grant

Three Part Harmony

A Companion Unobtrusive

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! Comments are the only payment fanfic writers get, and it's an incredibly valuable and underrated currency. Fanfiction as a community is one of the most generous you'll find, and I'm incredibly proud to be a part of this particular one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh man, probably La Comtesse de Saint-Germain.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In this day and age I feel like we deal with enough shit, so I try to end most of my fics happily. I think A Gem-Like Flame probably has the most uplifting happy ending, but then, I'm a sports nerd.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't yet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Um, probably pretty vanilla het MSR. No shame.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've only written one, but it turned out really well, I thought. It's an X-Files/His Dark Materials novella-length crossover that takes place in Lyra's world, pre-Lyra, called Out of the Little Grove.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Anyone who steals my fic is going to catch these hands.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a couple of years ago someone asked if they could translate one of my fics to Russian. It's out there somewhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I jumped in and helped @monikafilefan get Five Years and a Lifetime over the line for a fic exchange a couple of years ago. A fun, collaborative experience, that was like 85% Monika. It's a great fic, check it out if you haven't!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mulder & Scully are my OTP. Always and forever.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish Madam Scully's Spiritual Services, Inc., it's an AU where Scully works for her sister's Psychic Boutique while prepping for med school. Scully ends up being actually psychic and she helps newly minted FBI agent Fox Mulder solve a series of murders. I have it almost completely plotted (except for the nitty-gritty hard stuff), but I don't think I'll ever get it done, sadly. It's just too big a story to tackle with where I am in my life. Though I never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm decent at dialogue, have a pretty firm grasp on plotting, and, I hope characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My character work is probably my weak spot, which is why I have so much fun writing fanfic--the character work is already done, I just get to play around a world where everybody already knows the characters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

When I do it, I hope like hell that I'm doing it right. I think it's necessary for some stories and you just hope you're properly respecting a language you don't speak.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and ninety eight.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It's a toss up between Proof of Life, an AU where CNN conflict reporter Dana Scully is kidnapped and imprisoned with fellow kidnap victim and photojournalist Fox Mulder, and they, you know, fall in love. And North of Zero, a post-col novel where Mulder and Scully get William back and have to save the world. The one I totally pantsed (made up as I went along), and it came together like alchemy. I love that story. If you don't like AU, you'd like Proof of Life. If you don't like post-colonization stories, you'd like North of Zero. I don't always like everything I've written after I'm done writing it (a writer's life), but I'm incredibly proud of both of those fics.

Tagging @monikafilefan because she's already tagged, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[bourbon-ontherocks]

20 questions for writers

I was tagged by @pia-writes-things (ty!!! ❤️)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

46!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

703,271. Which is, um, a lot.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Good Girls (formerly), HPI (formerly), and l'Art du Crime. There's also a random bit for les Combattantes, and one GG fic has a shared universe with Graceland. I'm very mono-fandom lol.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Take A Dip

It's All Coming Back To Me

It Hurts When I See You Struggle

Love And War

We're Living In A Powder Keg And Giving Off Sparks

Unsurprisingly, these are all GG fics, although I don't think my kudos ranking is accurate because most of these were impacted by the great kudos-bombing gate from 2020 so it's hard to tell what's actually my most kudo-ed fic.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely. My secret goal is to keep the conversation going back and forth for the longest possible time because I love the opportunity for a good ramble about my writing 😈

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I wanna say Ad vitam æternam (L'art du crime)? I mean, it's literally an MCD fic, so, not that merry... Also if I remember correctly, Always lost in the sea (HPI) doesn't end on a very hopeful note either.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't know? All of them? None? I generally tend to go for happy open endings with that extra bit of bittersweet so I really couldn't tell. But hey, maybe the ending to that thing I'm currently writing actually is the happiest of it all, because oh boy, things do get cheesy at some point 🥺

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No at all! Unless you count that one person who commented on several chapters of whichever long GG fic I wrote just to point blank hate on Beth character lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Of course I do (in English only), I like my porn toxic and desperate and angsty with just the right amount of power play and mutual hatred. Basically, I write hatefuck 😂

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really, no... I've tried a couple of times, but I think I'm better at/more interested in mimicking existing interactions than inventing a dynamic between characters who never met canonically (and also, boy the kind of SETUP you need to justify some characters crossing paths... it's just too much work). I'm more of a cameo/easter egg kind of writer, so once in a while I'll allow a character from another fandom to pop up in a fic and say hi, but it's really a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of encounter.

I guess my craziest attempt would be that Crazy Ex-Girlfriend / Good Girls crossover that I never finished though, cause like, super different moods?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of but I don't really attempt to know

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! By myself lol. I once posted a fic in two languages before acknowledging it was a hell of an additional work 😭

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kinda? We never finished nor even posted it but at some point we shared a quite unhinged co-writing story with @whiskeyjack and @00gangfriend00 and it was a lot of fun 🥰

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

You... you guys have that? You don't just live by your Ship of the Moment just to instantly forget about it and hop on the Next Ship when it shows up? I'm sorry but I don't think I have one of those.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

What a trap question!!! 😂

It's All Coming Back To Me, obviously. Look, I really really want to finish it, not even for me at this point, but for the 120-something people who subscribed to it, for the faithful readers who still leave me comments every now and then hoping for closure. I know how it ends. I have it partially written. I just don't seem to know how to write for Good Girls anymore, and getting my head back into it feels like such an insurmountable load of work, I just- I'm trying, ok?

But like, if someone's interested in helping, or even writing that ending based on my notes (and getting full and proper credits for it obvi), just let me know! I'm really open to it 🥲

16. What are your writing strengths?

Probably dialogues? I've been told many times that my dialogues feel very close to the original, and the thing is, I write about TV shows and I have a very good ear so I think I catch quite easily the actors' voices and tones and mannerisms in my head, so every time I write down a line, I play it several times in my mind with the character's voice to determine whether they would say it like that or not. Looks like it's not working so bad.

Also I *think* I'm not too bad at stream-of-consciousness inner monologues. At least it's one of my favourite things to write so there's that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes (that includes sex lol). Filling the gaps between the important parts. Descriptions. Setting up the scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Like, featuring two different languages inside the same fic, or writing in different languages? I'm not sure I've ever really written the first one? I guess I find it a bit clunky, occasionally I've written scenes that included a character whose native language wasn't the one of the fic, and I'd give them a line or two if that's relevant to the plot (for instance, if characters are lost somewhere in another country, I can add a line/dialogue in another language for comedic effect. Or it can be a way for a character to whisper something for themselves), but the logistics are quite nightmarish, you gotta either assume your audience knows the second language, or translate the lines in the author's note, or have another character translate it in a way that doesn't sound too articifial, that's really really tedious haha

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Good Girls.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

You think I know that? Out of FOURTY-SIX??? Lol. Get out.

Tagging: @sdktrs12 @joeyjoeylee if you're around @riosnecktattoo @humanbra @hemerae-ramblings @sothischickshe @asteraceae-blue

[drowninginships]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

First of all, thank you soooo much to @monbons and @valeffelees for tagging me, I nearly had a whole breakdown over how nice this fandom is and how good it feels to be included in something like this. Yall are the sweetest, thank you <3 1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s): Uhhhh, yall name your WIPs beforehand? I currently have two documents titled "nose ring simon" and "wing fic" and I typically title it just before I post it.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___” I think you'll find this is a pretty easy formula for most, if not all, of my fics. Simon + Piercing + Baz Horny. Alternatively, Simon + Wings = Baz Horny. Sensing a theme?

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it? Explicit tags, for sure. It'd be pretty funny to tag the wingfic as monsterfucking, so I'll probably do that, but otherwise, nothing crazy going on here. Just boys very much in love.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)? "wing fic" often affectionately gets called "how the fuck do wings work" or "goddamn motherfucking physics"

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next? Definitely the piercing one. The wing fic isn't cohesive or coherent at this time, and it's more of a collection of scenes rather than a whole fic, anyway. I'm having a lot of fun writing the piercing one!!!

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as) Please see answer #1. It's truly mind boggling to know that some of yall are out here naming WIPs.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

Of course it's gold. Everything about Simon is gold. His mind, his body, his soul. The color of his skin and his hair when the sun shines through it from behind. The small loop now adorning his nostril.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP. For wing fic, I was trying to figure out a way to make an au scene where everyone has wings, and I could do a little, like, wing caretaking session? But I couldn't find a solid enough reason for everyone to have wings, and also I realized I just didn't care enough about that scene to pursue it further.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet? I find this question particularly difficult. I don't know that there are any stories I want to tell, right now. Usually when I want to write something, I schedule it in and I do it. Right now, there's nothing on the back-burner.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on? Only the 2! I'm not usually one to work on multiples at a time.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now? Re: "goddamn motherfucking physics," I've never been super into fantasy or a fandom that particularly liked wings, so I genuinely have no clue how these things work. I took on this project as a gift for @valeffelees after he lamented the lack of wing fics for him to devour, and while I'm not an expert, I'm certainly trying my best. But like, the anatomy??? of a wing???

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send. Again, thank you both so much for tagging me. You're exactly who I would have tagged here, so instead of tagging you both again, I'll tag @thewholelemon even though I know you've already filled this out <3 Also, I'll tag @chaoticgaywitch @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold @beastmonstertitan and @brilla-brilla-estrellita because you all played our stupid little poetry game and brought me a lot of joy!

[thequibblah]

20 q's for fic writers

thank u to the beloveds @kay-elle-cee and @clare-with-no-i for the tags!

AO3 Username: thequibblah

1. How many works do you have on A03? 28!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,057,741.... oh it's word city

3. What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, other stuff i have in the good old back pocket

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

ye olde come together

tell me where your secrets lie

even just to reach is a triumph (WHAT? i swear this happened behind my back)

if we never meet again

put a bow on it

5. Do you respond to comments? i HAVE to. if i don't i'll perish

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i don't really write angst honestly. and i also don't really write about jily dying so that rules out a gimme. i suppose certain sharp things is the closest i get

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? all of the others?? i suppose in terms of sheer happiness delirium energy, probably blink three times

8. Do you get hate on fics? no thank goodness lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? sometimes and only when i feel insane. more and more i feel like i am only compelled to write smut/a smutty scene if it feels like the twist of a knife. im normal <3

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? no i once did a lot of musing about what makes a crossover vs an au because i have a couple of fics that import lore/world etc from other media. but i think those qualify as au and not crossover so no i do not write that and i feel i'm unlikely to

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? no thank goodness x2

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? just the one come together french translation dogspeed on that one fr

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? naur…

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? well jily's really what i've read and written most throughout my nerd career, so i suppose that's the answer. there are funny rabbit holes i will dive down tho (ask me about my ready or not phase)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? lmao

16. What are your writing strengths? dialogue and voice, plot (ish...), worldbuilding, high-concept premises

17. What are your writing weaknesses? DON'T HAVE ANY! jk i often bite off more than i can chew and struggle to actually pin down the scope and scale of a story; i don't edit myself as much as i should; I WISH I COULD DO FREE INDIRECT DISCOURSE BUT I CAN'T

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? literally do whatever bro

19. First fandom you wrote for? probably jily lmfao

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? come together is a labour of lovehate but i do have to say tell me where your secrets lie in terms of how happy with it as a single piece

tagging @ghostofbambifanfiction @emeralddoeadeer @sunshinemarauder if you haven't done this already <3

[nyxronomicon]

ahh ok i got tagged by @consolationblog (like a month ago oops) and @peachsayshi RIP y'all forcing me to look at the ever growing WIP pile......

rules: post the names of all the files in ur wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send u an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have wips!

jjk

death painting womb || choso dating sim! featuring a band au and choso's band mates toji and sukuna assassin toji x widow reader || you've just killed your husband. except a sexy assassin just walked in to tell you he's supposed to do the same... roommate toji || sleazy craigslist roommate who gradually manipulates you into getting more physical with him... vampire toji || not really a WIP bc @pearlsxandxpeonies and i started a vampire jjk rp with it but i wouldn't mind posting some of it neighbor!toji || inspired by that day i was raking the yard and i was like "wow this would be great if i was actually getting fucked silly by toji instead" emo!Nanami || best friends to lovers. i wanted to make this multi chapter but i had too many ongoing series (and still do lol) nanami cucking gojo || i was gonna do a whole series bc gojo is such a cuck to me... seven minutes in heaven || just an excuse for Sukuna to get, uh, handsy... (if you know what i mean) CEO!Sukuna || drabble for a sukuna sugar daddy au... stepbrother choso || this is OLD and not usually my thing but damn if choso was my stepbrother... hatefucking || okay i admit it. i wrote hatefucking with gojo. i wanna punch his face with his cock inside me ok. i wanna make him bleed and cum at the same time. don't look at me rejected excerpt || OKAY I ADMIT IT the hatefucking got a little too soft so i put the gooey romance shit in a separate doc. in this house we punch gojo mid-coitus. don't look at me getting his head ripped off? || literally 28 words i will never finish this. but yeah gojo again salvation || ongoing series but i'll answer stuff about the upcoming parts! parent trap || ongoing series but i'll answer stuff about the upcoming parts!

genshin/hsr

embarassing how many of these i have when i have literally posted like two genshin fics lmao divorced detective wrio || just a gratuitous amount of a messy divorced man sigh. meant to be multi chapter mara struck || uhh yeah fueled by the idea that what if blade goes into heat from being mara struck... werewolf, werewolf take 2 || multiple attempts at werewolf!wriothesley smut for monsterfucktober god || scara x reader based on that scene with haypasia in that greenhouse. i was self-inserting so hard, don't lie you did it too itto || bbg rescues you from some guys and has to bring you home with him. you know. for healing purposes... alhaitham || classic sex pollen going feral on each other lol dumb bitch juice || alhaitham begrudgingly agreed to tutor you, his friend's little sister, but he actually just spends the whole time objectifying you (until...) dottore bondage || dottore kidnaps you and reprograms your memories with the akasha yakuza au || i just felt an urge to make an au that feels like the yakuza games. i don't think i had a pairing in mind i was just having fun lol captured || you're a stellaron hunter and jing yuan captures you. such a shame for such a pretty girl to be stuck in jail on new year's

others

bnha / stockholm syndrome || overhaul kidnaps you and learns you have a unique quirk; complete adoration and obedience to whoever drinks your breast milk (please don't look at me WHY is this so embarrassing to summarize lmao) csm / kishibe || incubus!Kishibe for monsterfucktober! somno and infidelity you know the drill

no pressure but ppl i'd like to peer into their cursed wip folder (if u didn't do it yet lol) @solomons-poison @pearlsxandxpeonies (i know u have one now hehe) @suget @vampyrsm