#PLS comment on fics

[if-not-now-tell-me-when]

Written almost 1000 words on my next chapter! It's amazing what a kind, heartfelt comment on your fic will do for your motivation 🥰🥰🥰

[foolishlovers]

Where a Canvas Blooms by foolishlovers

It’s an Arrangement. Aziraphale knows this. He knows a lot of things, and others he doesn’t, but the most important things, he knows. He knows that the cheeky redhead in his arms smiles and purrs when he runs his fingers through his hair, knows that Crowley’s hands are rough from working outside, knows the softness of his heart. Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s in love with Crowley until he does. But it’s just an Arrangement. Is it? Part 1 of The Cuddle Arrangement

word count: 3.8k rating: T relevant tags: Human AU, Trans Aziraphale, Trans Crowley, Touch-Starved Aziraphale, Touch-Starved Crowley, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Comfort, Pining art by the wonderful @omens-for-ophelia

[goldthorn-archive]

ao3 is back up and i’m begging you. comment on fics. did you like it? say “i liked this!” and the fic author will be giddy w excitement i promise. longer comments are adored, yes, but so are the shorter acknowledgments of enjoyment!

i think back to fanfic from ten years ago, and the comments were abundant! maybe this is part of the “content” discourse and fried attention spans idk but, fic writers agonise over and spend hours on their work, and they put it up for free.

it’s also fun for readers! idk how much others do this, but i love reading comments on the fics i love, seeing if ppl pointed out a line i also liked or reacted to a part in the same way as me. and often i find more things to admire about the fic from the comments! but that can only happen if ppl comment on fics!

[plagalkey]

my lovely talented friend wrote an F1 AU fic focused on oikage's time at red bull racing!!!

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

imagine: it’s been years since Eddie and Steve have seen each other. Eddie still keeps in touch with the Party, with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle, but for whatever reason, neither him nor Steve have made a massive effort to stay in touch. Eddie can’t help but feel like he maybe had missed out on something, that he’d been too quick to leave, too quick to write it off as unimportant, meaningless, a fleeting crush. It’s okay. It’s fine now.

Because Eddie has the life he’s always dreamed of. He travels the world, gets paid to play his guitar in front of crowds that scream his lyrics back at him, dates celebrities, and sees things he couldn’t have even imagined back in that Hawkins trailer park. He doesn’t regret much. He can’t, when everything has led him here.

He’s just released his third studio album and it’s been a commercial and critical success. He’d tried something a little different with this project, something a little outside his comfort zone. He’s never been known for his love songs, but he couldn’t help himself this time. He just had so much he’d never had the chance to say until now.

Eddie loves the Grammys. It’s a fun night, full of fellow musicians who care deeply about what they do. He’ll never get used to being in the same place as his idols, the voices he used to listen to when he’d dream of getting the hell out of small-time, small town Indiana.

He’s got a date on his arm this year, a handsome actor who’d just had a film premier in Venice. Eddie loves the attention, knows the fans are speculating about which songs on the new album are about Rob and their relationship. It’s not hard to act like they’re in love; Rob is beautiful, tanned and golden and smiling big for the cameras. It’s easy to fuel the rumors, to make eyes at each other like they think no one is looking. Eddie lives for this kind of thing, loves to put on a show. He kisses Rob right there on the red carpet, like he doesn’t care who’s watching them, like he just can’t help himself.

He’s up for a whole bunch of awards tonight. Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Best Metal Performance…. Eddie’s skin is buzzing, a dull thrum of excitement just under the surface.

Halfway through the ceremony, Eddie wins his first award for his performance in Las Vegas earlier in the year on tour promoting the new album. He doesn’t have a speech prepared, hadn’t wanted to jinx anything by over-preparing, and now he’s nervous he’ll forget someone and not have another chance to tell the world how he’s gotten here.

Eddie’s smiling big when he takes the stage. His face feels stretched, his cheeks hurting. He feels like his body can’t hold all his excitement inside him, all the feelings of love and amazement that threaten to burst through his skin.

He thanks Wayne and the Party first, clutching his trophy in his sweaty fist. They’re the ones that really got him here, the ones that made him believe he was worth saving. The ones that made all this possible.

Then he thanks his management. His agents and producers and tour managers, all the people that make the logistics of touring possible, that give him the ability to do what he loves.

There’s one last person to thank. His PR team had told both him and Rob to lean into the relationship, to embrace the spectacle, and there was nothing Eddie loved more than performing for a captive audience. He looks out into the crowd and finds Rob smiling up at him from his seat. He looks perfect, tan and beautiful, and it reminds Eddie of someone he used to know.

“And to the man who’s inspired every song on this album,” he feels his lips spread into another smile, sees the camera from the corner of his eye and imagines how goofy he must look on screen. He wonders who might be watching, if the person he’s been thinking about for the last ten years even knows he’s winning an award right now. “Stevie baby, thank you, darling.”

There are confused grumbles from the crowd and for just a second, Eddie doesn’t understand. But then he glances at where Rob sits in the crowd, his smile plastic and forced, and he realizes what he’s said. The wrong name. The name of a ghost. The name of a person who only exists for him in his memories.

Eddie’s legs feel numb. His chest starts to ache and his hands feel hollow. Horror spreads through him as he hears the music start to play. The presenters gently usher him backstage, push him toward the darkness, away from the cameras. He stands there out of sight for several moments, frozen, rooted to the spot he’s been left in, before a familiar figure steps into his eye-line.

“Eddie,” Rob says, sounding both surprised and irritated. “What the fuck?”

the question pounds my head, what’s a lifetime of achievement if i pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me? do you miss the rogue that coaxed you into paradise and left you there? will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me but too old to care?

part one

[webdollzz]

PLEASE WELCOME...PROFESSOR!RAFE💐

INTRODUCTION ᡴꪫ‎

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who was quite often grumpy, walking into class with a cup of stale cafeteria coffee, a deep frown set on his face.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who had a bad day everyday. that was until you started auditing his class. a pretty lil' student who was interested in the literature he was teaching. of course, he didn't completely lighten up. but he was intrigued.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe spent a few months of watching you in class, seeing you blush and get giddy whenever he praises your correct answers and brilliant questions, he called you back to stay after class for catch up work. which is when he pinned you between him and his desk, hand on the nape of your neck as he kissed you — whispering about how long he's been wanting to do this.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who, from then onwards, was fucking you every chance he got. teachers lounge during class hours, after class, in the library in the dusty aisle no one ventures to.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will sit you in his lap as he grades your paper, lecturing you for every bad thing you did. "I mean, what type of grammar is this? do you even pay attention during my classes or are you too busy thinkin' about my dick?"

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who on a good day he'll let you cockwarm him as he grades papers, immediately failing anybody with a name he recognises from the times you've cried about how they were so mean to you.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who has a soft spot for you, and only you. it shouldn't be noticeable, but people certainly saw it. he was less bossy, less rude. he gave you extensions.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will take it upon himself to spank you when you have the audacity to turn in something so, so bad, that it genuinely makes him mad. "the fuck were you thinking? did you proof-read at all?!"

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who takes time to tutor you after his spankings. starting by making you write a two page essay on something, knelt under his desk with his face buried between your thighs. everytime your eyes flutter away from your laptop screen, he pulls away from your dripping pussy to scold you.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who does genuine tutoring with you too, wanting you to actually get better so you don't fail his class.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who, before your history class begins, walks into the classroom to leave a single rose on your desk. he's a lover at heart.

ᨳິ‎english literature!professor who uses his profession to his advantage, leaving little love notes in your bag, desk, jacket, anywhere you'll find them, and others won't.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who signs off all notes with a very, very indecipherable '- R.C' with a sloppy, uneven heart next to it.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will messily kiss you against the door of his classroom, two minutes until his class begins. the second he hears the chatter from the hall grow closer, he shoves you off, wiping your lips with his thumb to get rid of your messy, smudged lipstick. he then gently pushes you towards your seat, sitting at his desk and prepping for his lecture. he then throws you glances all the way through it, making sure not to stand face forward for too long so his other, suspecting students don't see how hard he is through his slacks.

ᨳິ‎possessive!professor!rafe who leaves marks all over your neck and your thighs constantly, for people to see out of your low cut blouses and plaited skirts.

ᨳິ‎overprotective!professor!rafe who has to bite his tongue to resist the urge to saunter up to any man who had the audacity to talk to you.

ᨳິ‎jealous!professor!rafe who pounds you from the back in his office, your chest on the smooth wood of his desk. his hand reaching forwards, pulling you up to his chest by your hair. "you think some fuckin' fratboy can fuck you like I can? hm? answer me."

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who is actually a complete sweetheart, on the inside, very, very deep down.

                                                

                                                 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

steve harrington/eddie munson for @steddiemicrofic's january prompt: hole, 404 words. ft. flirting, sexual innuendo | T rating read on ao3

“That’s just perfect.” 

Steve stares at his rapidly flattening tire, and the culprit just behind the car. He loosens his tie, irritated. 

It’s not that Steve can’t change a tire—he doesn’t have a spare. 

Robin’s house is a couple of streets over. Sighing, he begins the walk there to call his mechanic.

“No answer,” Steve announces dejectedly as he walks back into Robin’s livingroom and flops down in her armchair, huffing.

The dramatics are a little much, but Robin bites her tongue. No need to kick the man while he’s down (not a rule she always conforms to). 

“I know a guy who could help,” she says instead. “My cousin’s friend.”

Steve perks up. “Is he good?”

Robin bites her tongue again, this time fighting a grin. “Oh, he’s somethin’.” 

Thirty minutes later, there’s a mechanic named Eddie in her livingroom. Steve supposes he looks exactly as expected—grey coveralls, arm tattoos, hands stained but washed (Steve knows, he shook one, with the hand that wasn’t clutching a cup of tea). 

However, Eddie also has long hair tied in a loose bun, and the warmest smile. It lights up his eyes and Steve barely knows where to look. 

Robin’s in the kitchen doorway, both hands on her own tea mug. 

“So. Popped a tire?” asks Eddie. “How’d that happen?”

“Hole.” 

Steve flushes when he hears Robin snort. 

Eddie’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hole?”

“P-pothole,” Steve clarifies quickly. “I went over a… a big pothole.” 

Eddie contemplates that, tongue between his teeth and looking Steve up and down, before he says, “Yeah, it’s amazing what a hole can do to you.” 

Steve splutters into his tea. It goes up his nose a little, kind of fucking hurts. Robin barely keeps a lid on her laughter, knowing Steve won’t thank her for it. 

“Eddie, you’re gonna kill him. Quit flirting.” 

“Sorry! Right. Where’s the car?”

He keeps his comments to himself throughout the tire change, even though he really wants to wind up the cute guy in the nice suit with the nice car.

Steve pays him there and then, cash plus tip, but Eddie rejects the tip. 

“Keep that. Since I almost killed you back at the house.” 

Steve blushes. “You caught me off-guard.” 

Eddie can’t resist. “I tell it like it is! Gotta know your way around a hole or you might blow, big boy.” 

There’s no tea this time, but Steve still manages to choke. 

[hungerpunch]

too much public focus on the reader's experience of a fic. too much framing the reader as the expert. the fic is for the writer. the writer is the expert on their work. you don't like it? zip your lil lid and hit the back arrow. it's like. so simple 😐

[foolishlovers]

anything can be a good omens au if you’re unhinged enough

[ph7soy]

mega angsty grahamscott college AU fic❗❗

College was supposed to be a fresh start for Warren. A chance to rebrand his geeky high school self. Hell, maybe he’d even have a shot at being cool this time around. But of course nothing ever goes his way, because he’s Warren fucking Graham.

~ wc: 71k-ish ~ status: ongoing (chapter 11/?) ~ tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff/angst, coming-of-age

helloooooo to all five grahamscott shippers out there!! my super supportive gf (who is also my only beta reader) suggested that i promote my fic on tumblr so here i am;;

enjoy the vandalized driver’s licenses i made for warren & nathan + a lil what’s in my bag college student edition for these two dorks (clearly not hard to guess which belongs to who lol)

[plagalkey]

ishigaki island 2025 by czqy (read here)

Hajime and Wakatoshi go on their last trip before getting married and bring along their best men. Their best men being Tooru and Tobio. Tobio being Tooru’s ex, whom he broke up with and hasn’t seen since almost three years ago.

(nsfw in read more section)

read the fic to see how these dumb exes get back together hehehehheh

[specific-dreamer]

a sneak peak to the "johnny and ponyboy go to darry after bob dies" fic im writing

(after the break in case someone doesnt want spoilers ! enjoy)

However, when he rounds the corner that separates the kitchen from the living room, Darry’s suddenly reminded of a promise he made to his father all those years ago. 

Soda hadn’t even been born yet, but Darry remembers his father crouching next to him as he tucked Darry in that night. He can remember gripping his Spider-Man figurine that night as his dad ran his fingers through his hair in thought. He can remember his mom coming into his room too, but staying by the door as if she didn’t want to interrupt whatever important conversation they were about to have - well, as serious as a conversation a four and twenty-four-year-old could have. 

“You excited to be a big brother, Junior?” Darry had nodded excitedly, his eyes growing huge and suddenly he was no longer sleepy. It was a fool’s question to ask and, honestly, his dad should have known that. As soon as Darry found out there would soon be a second little Curtis, he’d been running around the neighborhood telling everyone who would listen. 

His dad had simply chuckled at the answer and, looking back, remembering the hardened look in his dad’s eyes, Darry thinks the older man knew how hard things would be for his boys in the future. “You have to promise me something, okay, Junior?” 

Darry sat up at that. As a kid, he had loved making promises for some reason; he took them as a vow, even early on. “ ‘Kay!”

“When the baby comes, you have to take good care of him, okay? Mama’s gonna be real tired and I’ll have to help Mama out, so sometimes we’ll need our big boy to help out with the baby. That's alright with you?” 

“...Huh?”

His dad sighed, biting back a smile. “After the baby gets here, Mama’s gonna be in bed a lot; she'll be real tired. So you and I have to take care of the baby together, think you can help me?” And those were the magic words. ‘Help me.’ 

“Yeah! I help you! I’ll show him my favorite toys and I’ll teach him how to play catch and soccer and-” Darry had begun to move the covers off of him, tossing the Spider-Man figurine to the side, so he could go prepare for the baby. 

“Woah, there Einstein! Calm your jets,” his dad put a hand on his chest, all but forcing Darry to lay back down. “The baby won’t be here for another week or so, kid. We have time to get ready, I promise. Can you promise me something else, though?”

Despite the pout on his face as he laid back down, Darry nodded. “When the baby does come,” his dad explained. “Your mom and I are going to be really busy taking care of him- I know, I know, you’ll be taking care of him too. I know that Junior,” Darry grinned victoriously at that, far too glad to be getting his way. “However when the baby gets here, we may not have as much time to play with you anymore.”

Darry can remember thinking, that’s it? That’s what his dad was making a big deal about? “It’s okay, Daddy,” he’d said like he had already thought long and hard about this ages ago. “I’ll play with the baby instead.”

Then his dad got a constipated look on his face that older Darry can now recognize as his look when he’s trying to decide which battle to pick. “Sure thing, buddy. But the thing is, babies are loud. They cry a lot, right? And since the baby will need our help, I need you to promise me you won’t ever get mad at the baby, okay? I want you to come find me if you get mad or annoyed with the baby, okay?”

Darry had had a lot of questions then. Why would the baby cry? Darry may not have every toy he wanted, but he’d say life is pretty good, he doesn’t really have a reason to cry. Also, why would he ever get mad at the baby? Darry wasn’t completely sure, but he thinks he’d been a baby once and his dad never got mad at him. And, Darry planned on being just like his daddy when he got bigger - he has his dad’s name for crying out loud, he kinda has to be like him - so he won’t get mad at the baby either, he promised that. 

It’s this promise that Darry thinks of when he sees two cowering figures standing in his living room. It’s this promise Darry thinks of when he realizes the figures are Ponyboy and Johnny Cade. 

It’s this promise that has Darry moving closer to them before his mind can even begin to overthink if Ponyboy wants to see him. Evidently, his mind didn’t need to think too hard, because Ponyboy lets out a choked gasp as he pushes past Johnny and all but collapses into Darry's chest. 

[fluxweeed]

hi i'm a grouchy old hag muttering to myself in my hut in the woods

1. not everyone finds it hurtful to find out that people are discussing their fic in private discord servers or on tiktok, actually. i for one passionately don't care that people aren't only mentioning my fic where i can see it. ofc i'm curious when one fic gets a sudden unexplained boost in kudos for a few days. am i HURT that i don't know exactly where the new readers are coming from? am i upset that the boost in hits/kudos isn't accompanied with a flurry of praise? am i sad that i can't jump into the discussion? i am not.

2. the messaging of "okay but you wouldn't post the fic if you didn't enjoy validation" makes me want to delete my ao3 immediately kasdjhfg. people post things for all sorts of reasons thank u!! my personal motivation is i'm trying to make myself feel better about making imperfect things!! the idea that by posting fic i'm inherently coming across as seeking praise makes me want to throw up. (since this discussion started, i've considered disabling comments on my fic for this reason – but i'm worried that move is so non-standard that it'll end up coming across even MORE that i want attention, so i haven't taken the plunge yet)

3. i also pretty firmly disagree with "commenting on fic builds community!" (i made this joke in a grouchy bluesky rant already so if u saw that pretend u didn't) but personally i feel the community spirit when i'm in a server discussing which weasley has the biggest dick (percy). i don't feel it when people are being nice to me in my fic's comments. i'd almost go as far as to say community CAN'T be built when one person is praising another bc there's an inherent imbalance. sure, writers can mutually read and comment on each other's fic and become friends/community co-members that way, but what if u don't write? who's in YOUR comments telling u how great u are? idk about anyone else, but when i am in a community space (like a discord server) and someone starts being nice about my fic, i feel awkward. the focus shifts from a shared enjoyment onto something inherently UNshared, because one person is the creator and the others are readers. that's not to say that these interactions shouldn't happen, but imo it's disingenuous to say that's the core of fandom community.

4. i really can't stress enough how crazy it makes writers when they're writing for praise/validation. i've had conversations with very well-known drarry writers where they've been genuinely upset that nobody is reading their fic (the fic in question had hundreds of comments). i've had conversations with people who take part in fests, only to continually sort the works by stats and feel awful that theirs isn't at the top. i've had conversations with people who have had multiple devastating life events happen to them so they're struggling to write, and the lack of New Fic Comment Validation makes them feel 10x worse. i can't help but feel like if you ARE posting for feedback (or "recognition" or however you want to package it), it's genuinely not good for your brain.

5. obviously there's nuance to all of this! it's a big topic! but notice how we're talking about it on tumblr, not in ao3 comments. it would probably be even more productive in a discord server. in a voice chat. you know – fandom community spaces like that.

6. can y'all keep the next round of discussions to like 700 words max pls lmao i have stuff to do

[yakuza-emulation]

Shoutout to this one YouTube comment for being the funniest motherfucker I’ve seen. For it being so funny (to me at least), I wanted to draw it lol

Under the cut is the original comment (with some more context lol)

This was posted under a Gacha video featuring the Glam-Mike theory prevalently. I don’t think OP even gave any evidence (aside from maybe Freddy’s classic: “I am not me.” line.)

[lainalit]

And what if I say I want a scene where elain cockwarms Lucien while he does emissary work on his desk

[jane-lynndrake-t]

The portrait in higher quality.

Transcript:

New Earth Observer

GOTHAM GLOBE (jane-lynndrake-t)

ISSUE 621 | 12/18/2020 | Morning News | Weather: Bad | AI DNI

Drake Socialite Murdered!

Deborah Donovan B.A.

Janet ’Jane’ Lynn Drake (neé Crowne), a beloved mother and wife passed away on June 21, 2020 at the age of 43.

Born in Gotham, NJ, on January 10 1981, Janet was the daughter of the late Mr. Marvin Noel Crowne and Ms. Patricia Lynn.

She is additionally predeceased by her half brother, James “JT” Thomas Crowne.

She is survived by her husband, Johnson “Jack” Drake, and her 14 year old son, Timothy Jackson Drake.

At the time of her death, she and her husband were kidnapped and ransomed while traveling to assess and provide relief work to the impoverished within the Caribbean islands. During rescue, she was poisoned and declared dead on the scene. Her husband, Mr. Drake is currently recovering.

From a young age, she loved history, the arts, and traveling. Many enjoyed discussions with her about artists, writers, and theater.

An associate of her late half brother recalled conversations between the two as fast paced, varied, and excessively thought provoking.

As a teenager, she was remembered tenderly for her beauty and self confidence. She had a smile despite any challenge she faced.

This bright attitude drew people to her. An old friend from her graduating class described her as a brave woman who was a delight to be around.

After her marriage to Mr. Drake, she became the CFO of Drake Industries. She was known by her associates as a diligent business woman with sharp wit and a sharper eye for character. She is credited for Drake Industries’ upstanding and honest reputation world wide.

Her employees remember her fondly for her unwavering direction and her equal dedication to her son and the company. Many recall the common sight of a 4 year old Timothy Drake carried protectively on her hip as she attended and led meetings.

Photo caption:

Mrs. Drake, May 15 2020, Wayne Charity Auction.

Jewelry Pictured: Auctioned For 4 Million Dollars And Donated To Ace Children’s Hospital (peepdraws)

She will be remembered by Gotham as a charming, noble, and innovative woman.

Her service will be held on December 24 at 4 pm at Pinkney C. Funeral Home.

In lieu of flowers, her Last Will and Testament requests donations to different charities listed on page 10.