#anyway thanks for sending this i will literally come back and reread it when i'm feeling discouraged fghgf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fandomfluffandfuck · 1 year ago

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S!! i just reread Cant Explain All The Ways You Get Me High and i’m here to give you double the kudos bc god it’s fantastic 🔥 Honestly that one and I’d Fuck Me are some of my favorites—guess I have a soft spot for your solo scenes! Would you ever explore the inverse, with sub!bucky or seb taking care of themselves? What are the differences there between how steve/chris do it?

Can't Explain All The Ways You Get Me High

I'd Fuck Me

You know, I genuinely never noticed that among those solo, jerk off, fantasy scenes, I've only included the tops and/or doms. Huh. That's interesting. I mean, literally, there's also a scene in my "For Beginners" series with Chris fantasizing about Seb subbing for him...

Chapter One of Accept It

Maybe it'd because I'm a dom? So that sort of fantasizing is closer to my heart? Maybe it's just a coincidence, lol. Who knows 🤷🏻‍♂️

Anyway--

I think it would be pretty similar, I mean, the thoughts going on would be different, of course, but very much that same heady, frantic headspace as they barrel toward orgasm.

I'm not taking requests at this time, but sometimes I can't help myself...

Immediately, I had something in mind for Sebastian:

It's been a while for Sebastian--a while since he's gotten off with all of the work he's been doing (what feels like 15 different projects all that once, he swears) and the resulting exhaustion, and it's been a while since he's seen Chris with the way their careers stretches them apart all too often. So... orgasming hasn't exactly been his top priority. However, he's got the afternoon off. Somehow, after the early morning and late nights and their dedication, his director has decided they all need an early end for this Friday.

Thank. god.

And, with his time off, his thoughts unbusied, it's the tiniest thing that sets him off.

With their dynamic and how Sebastian gets, Chris will regularly send him orders when they're apart. It helps keep Sebastian from being overwhelmed with the need to submit here and now and being unable to, shutting down instead. Order this for dinner. Wear that pair of boxer briefs today. Chose this for the premier. Prep your meals for a week. Send me a photo of you when you have a minute. Sebastian eagerly fumbles to do as Chris says, especially eager the longer they've been apart. Craving a moment of calm, both-feet-on-the-ground steadiness that comes with Chris' pride. His approval. Even if it's just a text--

Good boy.

--or if it's more of a treat like a FaceTime call or rumbling voice memo.

"You're such a good boy, Sebastian."

that leaves Sebastian with chills, head to toe, and a helpless erection.

This time, what sets him off is Chris' reminder that he needs to have real food for, at least, one meal today. He's off set, so he should find something other than what he could get at crafty. Some protiens and healthy fats. Then, when Sebastian sends him a snap of his finished plate, Chris sends him another order as if he can feel that Seb needs to occupy his mind, playing into their push pull.

Make sure to clean it up properly.

Sebastian hand washes the fucking plate, silverware, and glass, despite the equally avaliable and usable dishwasher in his rented apartment nearby to the location they're filming at.

Done!

Sebastian texts him back.

Perfect.

It's one word. And yet...

It hits Sebastian like kick to the chest. He stares at the word, biting his lip. He doesn't expect more. He knows Chris is still working himself. It's more than enough that he's even able to send him a few words back and forth. He's not looking for a follow-up. He's just staring at the word.

Perfect.

Sebastian can hear Chris' voice sliding over the syllables in his head. It echoes through him, leaving his toes curling against the kitchen tile while his eyes slide shut, vividly imagining himself at home with his dom. He's just finished preparing dinner for Chris, home cooked--something simple that he can manage without too much thought, but enough that Chris knows he put effort into it--he set the table, he served Chris his food, then he sat at the table with Chris, watched Chris eat with Chris savoring each bite with smooth swallows and heartfelt moans of approval at the taste, he let (what a hardship) Chris hand feed him bites when he so desired, and he cleaned up their dishes and table, hand washing everything. He wants to. And, now...

Sebastian feels a wobble in his knees, so he lets his phone clatter onto the countertop and grasps it tightly instead.

Now, in his mind, Chris is stalking up behind him and Sebastian's heart is in his throat, ready and waiting for Chris to crowd him against the counter and cabinets and put those big, heavy, commanding hands all over his body. Pawing at him. He wants it. He aches for Chris to bend him over the sink and fill him up, fuck him hard and fast and dirty, while he tells him that he's good. He did good. He served him so well. He takes care of him so perfectly, now he's gonna take care of his perfect sub--gonna take him and use him like he craves.

Chris doesn't.

Not even Sebastian's imaginary Chris bends to his will. He's in charge. He will do what he pleases, and Sebastian will obey his word.

Submit.

Imaginary Chris bypasses him and goes to the fridge instead, bending over--oh, Lord, that's a sight--to reach the bottom shelf on the door where the beer lives, happily awaiting to be drank.

Sebastian dries his hands from the dishes... imagined and real. Imagined, he wants to turn and watch Chris' skillful, beautiful hands crack open the bottle. He doesn't. Real, he stands in place, letting his imagination pull him away, deeper, with how imaginary Chris walks right past him again, this time sparing one hand just to proprietorily draaaag his palm against the small of the back, "join me in the living room."

It's not a question, seeking company, maybe. If you like. But, hopefully. Join me? It's a command.

Everything in Sebastian wants to follow. The gravity makes his muscles weak.

Sebastian follows.

He follows Chris like a lovesick puppy, trailing after him and panting when he arranges himself on the sofa. Always so alluring that it's unfair. How is Sebastian supposed to do anything when his lover exists in such a state? Lounging about, casually, but perfect enough to have come straight out of a photoshoot. Thick, strong thighs spread wide, giving himself room, one arm over the back of the furniture, draped and taking up all the space he likes, commanding all of the suddenly humid air in the room with a heavy, dark look in his eyes.

Sebastian swallows, saliva flooding his mouth.

Meanwhile, Chris' other hand, having come to rest on his knee before, now mimes a gesture or two that's irresistible.

Kneel.

Come here.

Sebastian's eyes fly open, shattering the delicious fantasy his mind is painting. The image so real, so much ink, that it's spilling into his real life. He can't. Sebastian whimpers out loud.

Jesus Christ.

Even in the cold light of his real, afternoon kitchen, there's that pull inside him, forcing him from his comfortable center of gravity. Like missing a step on the stairs. Exhilarating. Heart hammering.

He needs.

The ache is now terrible inside him.

More than he needs anything else, he needs to be between Chris' thighs. That's where he belongs. His vision starts to go a little hazy and useless around the corners at just the thought. Chris towering over him. Powerful and authoritative. It's been too long.

And now Seb can feel the phantom heat of Chris' knees pressing against his shoulders and the weight of Chris' hand on his head, his blunt fingernails scratching his scalp, running through his hair and messing it up. He can feel the friction of denim jeans or cotton sweats or mesh basketball shorts against his cheek, muzzling into Chris where he's packed into whatever the fuck he's wearing but shouldn't be. He should never be clothed. He should--

Fuck me.

He should be between Chris' legs.

Sebastian blinks harshly a few times, trying to clear his vision and push away the raw throb that has begun to spread from deep in his gut to the base of his cock.

Impulsively, he snatches one of his hands away from his white-knuckle hold on the counter, intending to press the heel of his palm up against himself, but--

He whines again.

Here?

He looks around, taking inventory of his current situation, Sebastian gets distracted as his eyes land on his phone, and he recalls that damn text.

Perfect.

Glittering pleasure of praise from his dominant crackles through Sebastian like a lightning strike. All over again. Suddenly, he is back between Chris' thighs. Warm and crowded and so close to falling forward and mouthing at the bulge of his hardening cock in his sweats. Overcome by hunger. He can smell his arousal. Jesus. Seb wants to melt. He wants--

He can't fucking jerk off in the kitchen of a rental.

Can he?

Sebastian whimpers to the empty room. It offers him no comfort. Not a sound.

No.

Not here.

Quickly, Sebastian snatches his phone and dashes on clumsy legs to the bedroom. He's intending on texting Chris, asking him if it's possible for him to steal a few moments away. Sebastian just wants to hear his voice. For a minute. He wants it gruff and pressed right up against his ear, telling him he's perfect and good, and, and tell him--

Sebastian flushes hot, just thinking it. Admitting it to himself for the hundredth time. No matter, it always makes him squirm.

He wants Chris to tell him he's pretty.

He wants Chris to tell him he wants to put him on display and show everyone how good and pretty and perfect and odient he is. And--

Sebastian ends up distracted. His phone ends up on the bed, where he intends to also be. Lying back, relaxing, shoving a hand haphazardly down his pants to let Chris talk him off while he incoherently whines and moans and begs, the closest they can get when so, so far apart, but... he doesn't make it.

He doesn't even make it that far.

Instead, Sebastian gasps to himself, embarrassment making his cock pulse, thinking about how Chris would answer the phone and peel the mortifying words out of his mouth, make him admit how needy he is, then tell him he'a such a good boy for admitting it and he bet he looks so pretty, flushed and horny, and... Sebastian stumbles.

He ends up on his knees.

And.

He can't get back up. Aching. He's on his knees in his rented bedroom, near to the bed, but also too far away for it to be worth it to move again when he's so fucking hard.

The back of his eyelids are painted with the sights and sounds and sensations of their living room. Hardwood floors bite sweetly into his knees. Chris' cologne and laundry detergent clinging to his clothes, fading and turned darker the closer Sebastian leans into him, sweat and musk and arousal. Chris' hands on him. Holding his shoulders. Entwinted in his hair. On his throat or the nape of his neck, squeezing. Holding. Chris' voice rumbling through him, leaving him aching. Aching. Sebastian wants--

He wants Chris' cock out of his pants and in his mouth.

He wants to stare up at Chris' face, contorted obscenely into an expression of heat and pleasure, flushed and slack, as the weight and taste of his thick cock fills Sebastian's mouth. Heavy on his tongue. Coating his throat with the taste. Stretching his lips. Chris' hips pressed against his face, forcing him down his throat and making it hard to breathe in the most incredible way. Sebastian doesn't need to breathe. He needs to taste, to suck, to lick, to kiss, to gag and choke and cry.

He wants to cry on his cock.

He wants Chris to stare down at him over the handsome line of his nose and smirk. He wants Chris to tell him he's got such a good fucking mouth through a drawn-out groan. He wants to hear Chris moan through gritted teeth. He wants to have Chris cum down his throat and make Sebastian swallow, then lick him clean, then keep him warm while he finally drinks the beer he brought into the living room with him, watching the game, and keeping his needy submissive busy all at the same time. Multitasking.

Sebastian wants--

He wants--

Frantically, Seb shoves his hand into his sweatpants and cups his himself against his body, hissing with the temperature difference between his fingers and his heated, engorged dick.

In his mind, he's prolonging the moment of Chris' orgasm. The pornographic expression on his gorgeous face. Suspended in pleasure. The intense, incredible twitches and jerks of his cock as he pumps release onto Seb's tongue. The taste. The feeling. The way, oh, God, when Chris is really, really feeling himself, he'll reach down and recklessly plug Sebastian's nose as he shoves into his tight, wet, heat deeply. And Sebastian will spin. Sebastian will get dizzy. Sebastian will fly. His lungs aching to choke and sputter but not being able to. It all makes Seb so fucking hard. He's not in control. Chris knows what's good for him. Chris knows he's good. He's good.

He's so good!

Sebastian can't help but start to actually fist himself now. He's leaking enough to go faster. Faster. The friction is wearing his nerves down to raw wire, sparking and spitting electricity throughout his whole body. He's, oh, oh, he's--

It's so fucking intense, the images flashing through his mind. Now Chris has finished with him and Sebastian's chest is heaving, his lips buzzing, his mouth still stuffed full, tears and snot and spit running down his face, a complete mess, yet still pretty and perfect to Chris--for Chris. Sebastian helplessly cries out and loses his balance, his mind going haywire, imagining sucking Chris' still half-hard cock after he's finished, and grinding against his shin, feeling, feeling--

Good.

Obedient.

Sebastian falls forward, barely bracing himself against his now outstretched hand--the hand not wrapped around his cock--rather than faceplanting on the floor. His heart pounds in his chest. Lust rushes through him. Overpowering the fear. Pleasure rising and rising and--

"Gonna show me how pretty you are, baby? You gonna cum humping me with your mouth all full, jus' like you need, sweet boy?"

In his mind, in his fantasy, Sebastian cums with a muffled moan around Chris' dick. But, in his rented apartment, crumbling onto the floor next to his bed as if he might've been praying before he drifted off to sleep, he moans embarrassingly loudly. It's nearly a wail. It's like he's been hit over the back of the head. It hits him so fucking hard.

He's demolished as the pleasure crashes over him.

White-hot and ruining. Pumping wet, messy release into his hand and the inside of his boxer briefs. Humiliating and so, so good that he doesn't give a fuck.

"Atta, boy," Sebastian hears inside his own head, Chris' voice, as he achingly shakes through the last dregs of pleasure with a whine.

Oh, God.

But, (bratty) sub Bucky is pretty distinctive, too:

Steve's on a stupid fucking mission and he took his stupid fucking super dick with him (like an asshole) but, somehow, he didn't manage to take his stupid nuclear-level sex drive with him, too. Of all the things he has to leave behind! Fucking bastard.

He knows Bucky can't cope! And somehow, he still goes out there and fights the good fight despite being retired. Newsflash, Rogers, that ain't retired.

"Ugh," Bucky half groans, half moans, caught up in his thoughts, but also caught up in the physical sensations he's dealing with. Coping.

Steve's really left Bucky with no choice now. Not with his super libido bleeding over into Bucky, like, like--Bucky shivers, stifling a moan based on principle--bleeding into him like the hot, wet feeling of Steve fucking him with too much lube and then cumming inside him with his hurricane-like super-swimmers, pumping and pumping until Bucky swears he can see it stretching out his abs like he went too hard at dinner. Too much. Those goddamn swollen, heavy balls and...

"Guh." There's no stifling a dumb noise like that. It is what it is.

What is Bucky supposed to do but order via priority shipping and shove the biggest vibrating dildo he can up his ass?

This, this--

Bucky pants, his chest heaving, practically presenting his high, tight pecs and his begging-to-be-touched nipples. If someone was here to touch them! Bucky can't fight back a whimper, thinking about Steve's serum-hot, fever-hot body against his. His fingers--cruel and mean, plucking and twisting and pinching his nipples until they're puffy and raw, and Bucky is painting his belly white again. His mouth. Those lips. Plush, hot, and slick. Always just the tiniest bite of teeth that has Bucky shouting high in the back of his throat.

His cock jumps. Aching.

Fucking Steve.

This started out of spite. Bucky was bouncing on his fake cock, growling to himself, bratty and motivated. But it's devolved into something messy and pathetic and wet.

There are tears tracking shiny, salty paths down his cheeks when they're not being smeared into the sheets. It's really into a pillowcase. Not sheets. Steve's pillow. It still smells like him, and it's perfect for muffling the sniffling, howling moans that Bucky is pulling out of himself. He misses Steve's cock so much. He misses the rest of him, too. He misses the way he holds him down and pounds into him until Bucky is sure he'll finally fucking split into two. Hammering into him. Growling and grabbing him, throwing him around and making him take it. Bruising his hips and ass. Biting his shoulders, pulling his long hair until he's arched into a weak u-shape, every noise that Bucky has enough air to make fucked out of his wet, open mouth, "uh, uh, uh--"

Bucky aches for going dumb on Steve's cock.

He doesn't want to think! He wants to be able to do absolutely nothing. Fucked dumb.

He wants Steeeeeve!

Bucky whines to himself, his thighs quivering.

He's trying to replicate the magical ability Steve has to melt his brain out of his ears by giving himself as many orgasms as he can with the thick, heavy, vibrating toy shoved deep inside him. It's beginning to hurt. There's a puddle underneath him. Overflowing with pleasure. Yet, lust is still racing under his skin. It makes him whimper and squeeze the sheets in his fists.

He can hear Steve in his head, growling at him, smacking him around, goading him into another orgasm. The only one who can take Bucky; the only one who can hold him down and make him take it.

"C'mon, baby, I know that isn't all you got. You can take it. A cockslut like you? You can always take more. There's still spunk comin' outta'ya. I want you cummin' dry, darlin'. Then, then, I'll think about being done with you."

Instinctively, Bucky wants to do it. He wants to give it all to Steve. He has to. There's no other option.

So, he arches his back deeper. Blooming. His muscles complain, hurting with the stretch despite his daily yoga routine. He just can't--he's been at this for hours. He misses his fella bad.

He can't fucking be bothered, he's too frantically horny and too much of a spoiled pillow princess, to reach back and fuck his hot, puffy, wet hole with the vibrating toy. The closest he gets is jacking his cock. Even that's not normal, normally he has Steve to do that for him. Or, if Steve's not doing it for him because he's working too hard at working his cunt out--stringing him out until he's incoherent and stupid--Bucky is grinding against the bed, the couch, the floor, or whatever Steve has bent him over, unable to wait a minute longer. Right now, jerking off, he's so wet. His dick is swollen, and he can feel his pulse throbbing through it. He keens. Arching and spreading.

He feels fucked out and open but he knows he could be more. He could be hotter, he could be puffier, he could be wetter. If he pulled the dildo out of his hungry hole, he would be gaping. He could be gaping more if Steve had his way with him. Fucking him with that thick, thick cock, then getting frisky and sticking in his thumbs in alongside his dick. Prying him open. Wider and wider. Holding his hole open and feeling his own slick shaft thrusting in and pulling out as he ruins him.

He's thinking about Steve ruining him. He's thinking about Steve fucking him until he passes out--it ain't a true Rogers event until that happens, after all. He's thinking about Steve's strong fingers, scratching down his back, shamelessly groping his ass, and opening his hole. He's thinking about that fucking cock. He's thinking about--

Bucky doesn't want to think!

He wants to be ruined.

With an overwhelmed sob, Bucky collapses facefirst into his man's pillow and cums. Again. Crying out and jerking, soaking the bed.

The minute Steve gets home, he's demanding to be fucked within an inch of his life. Please. He'll get on his knees and beg. He'll break out the puppy-dog eyes and pout and beg. He'll offer to do whatever the hell, bendy painful (not hot, definitely, definitely. not. hot.) position his dog of a boyfriend wants. Anything. He neeeeeeeeds that dick.

#enjoy lol #asks #fandomfluffandfuck #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #evanstan #sebastian stan #chris evans #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub bucky #dom steve #dom chris #sub seb #subastian #sub sebastian

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veritable-trash · 2 years ago

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"I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” with Santiago Garcia?

HAHAHAHAHAHA I SUCK!!!!

i'm so sorry that i've left this just sitting around for ages but i literally have had zero inspiration and honestly even what i wrote still feels a bit shitty but i could not leave this in my inbox forever because you my lovely icon legend deserve some santi meal time because this prompt................ i am sweating goddamn

anywaysssss please enjoy the nastiness that i have unleashed on this fine wednesday and thank you for sending this to me and i hope you love it <333333333

also this unedited and i didn't even reread it because the writers block has been so ugly i just can't set myself up like that so forgive if it's not the cleanest of things ok anyways bye enjoy :)))))

18+ below the cut minors don't engage because duh

(warnings: overstimulation, santi being a horny beautiful man, fingering)

Hard headed, cocky, insufferable, and yet you couldn’t keep yourself from gravitating to him. Falling into his charm and wicked smile whenever he blew into town and reminded you exactly why you kept coming back.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me, hm?”

You had to choke back a whine. The bar was sticky and hot from the summer heat and Santiago wasn’t helping with how he had you pressed up against the wall in the hallway to the bathroom. It had been the same game tonight as always. Stolen glances, batted eyelashes, you both knew where it was all going to end and yet he still knew how to catch you on unstable ground when he said shit like that.

“Santi-”

He had the fucking audacity to chuckle, to nip at the hinge of your jaw and cut off all coherent thought for the rest of the evening. You could feel him, hard and aching pressing up against your hip, and your nails dug sharp into his shoulders. The groan he left etched into the skin of your throat didn’t help the state either of you were in.

“Lets go home, cariño, let me make you feel good, yeah?”

He punctuated the sentence with a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder and your knees wobbled. All you could do was breathe out a yes.

~~~~~

It had to be hours, honestly maybe even days, and you weren’t sure if your body could take anymore of his goddamn games.

“Come on baby, open your eyes, look at you, god baby look at how fucking wet you are, fuck.”

He’d made due on his promise. Spread you out in front of his mirror, sitting on his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs as he played with your cunt. It was sloppy and wet and depraved and you were shaking like a leaf in a tornado but it all felt so fucking good.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d cum on his fingers, the way he switched from deep, slow thrusts, to slapping your clit till your eyes were edged with tears, your head was scrambled from wanting to cower away from the pleasure and drown in it.

Your eyes slowly opened as his fingers kneed at the flesh of your thighs, grounding you after the orgasm that felt like it had lasted an hour. You groaned at the sight before you.

You looked a mess. Chest heaving, thighs twitching under his hands, pussy fucked open and weeping on full display to you and the man tearing you apart. You could barely even look at Santi with how his glazed, hungry eyes devoured every inch of you laid out for him like a meal.

He licked the sweat off your shoulder before bitting down gently and gliding three fingers back into your cunt. His other arm had to hold you up as you almost caved in on yourself with the sensation.

“I know baby, I know, but just one more for me like this and then I’ll give you my cock, just one more for me baby."

hehehe short and sweet baby for my favorite baby i love this man when will i have him???????

#look at this lovely little person giving me a lovely little prompt that i wrote nasty things to!!!!!#all is right with the world #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago gracia x you #santiago pope garcia x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic

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thechaseofspades · 1 year ago

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For the ask game

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

Anyway, on with the answerings. Long post incoming.

11: Link your three favorite fics right now

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

[Dear Fellow Traveller by justaboot]

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

[Complementary Colors by Korkorali and tsundereanubis]

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

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

[Stitched Through Time]

[Crossing the Streams]

[When In Rome]

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

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

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

62: Thoughts on cliffhangers?

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

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

#thanks for the ask!#sorry for the long answer!#ask game #writer ask

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Dear Miss Madisyn May,

I don't know if I totally understand how Gala's work, and when I don't understand something I usually hesitate and lurk around, but I've been following your's and worked up the nerve to send you a message. I first found Pink Scarf on A03, and it is something I go back and reread when I want cheering up or inspiration. Like so many I was immediately captivated by your writing and I love your newest fic Broken Glass and also the epilogues/one-shots/shorts you've written. I'm relatively new to active fandom, I have been a lurker for the last few years reading here and there, I feel like I came to fic late in life (32-33ish) and only just started writing it last fall. It has become one of my favorite pastimes and I wish I had found it sooner, but oh well.

I was wondering if you would be willing to share your own process for how you map out where your stories will go and how you work out plots, or find inspiration and work through writer's block, and/or honestly any advice you'd give someone starting out writing fic.

cheers,

norah

A little black-tie a little black-tie E and Frank ready for your Gala...

Dear Lil’ Miss Darlin’ Norah,

Firstly, I’m sorry this took me a million trillion years to respond to!! This is the sweetest and loveliest, and thank you for coming by to share and ask such a great question!! 💜 I, too, came to fic late(ish) and was also most definitely a lurker, so I can very much relate.

Oooh, boy, my writing process is a bit of a mess, honestly. I wish I could say that I was a super outliner/organized writer, but that’s just not who I am, and I think trying to be that writer got in my way for a very long time. I find that I get stifled if I’m outlining really specifically because my brain tries to lock everything in even if the story needs to go in another direction. So for me, I take more of an organic approach.

I tend to think in scenes or beats that I want to hit instead. Often, my ideas start from daydreams, so it’ll begin with a “scene” that I then want to build a story around. Sometimes that scene is really clear but may not happen for many chapters into a fic, so I have to figure out how I actually get my characters there. But giving myself time to daydream is one of the most important things to me as a writer. Usually when I’m having trouble figuring out a scene or arc or pushing through the writing, it’s often because I literally haven’t closed my eyes and laid down and let it play out in my head.

And inspiration can come from almost anywhere! Writing Elvis in particular, I’m heavily inspired by historical events and personal anecdotes. I love weaving real moments into my E fics!! There are honestly too many to count for PS.

For Broken Glass, Dolores came to me first as a character and I was like, “hmmm, that’s interesting,” and I am super fascinated by E’s health journey, so I was like, how do I put those together?

Songs are also often big sources of inspiration, like with Power of My Love and Without Love for PS. I try to consume a lot of media too, which gets my brain going—what I mean by that is the more I’m reading books and fics and watching shows/movies and listening to music, the more goes in my brain bank, so to speak.

I am by no means an expert, or even a professional writer (yet!), so this is just part of my process which (usually) works for me. Take of that what you will, but of course every writer is different and there is no one “right” way. I definitely struggle with perfectionism, and that tends to be my biggest source of “blocks” or frustration. So I’ve found that I just need to write. Practice. Get something on the page, even if it sucks lol! Cuz I’m always gonna go back and revise and tweak it anyway.

Anyway, I hope that’s helpful! Thank you so much for supporting my little stories and wishing you all the best in your writing adventures! 💜 Feel free to drop in my DMs if you have other questions or tag me in your works!

And I looooove me some black tie E and Frank!! To have been in that room…phew! 🥰😏🤩

💗 Madi

#Madi’s get to know me gala 💗#elvis #elvis presley #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #answered #ask

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smileysuh · 1 year ago

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happy happy birthday nova 🤍🤍🤍 i hope you have an amazing day and birthday!! i hope we get to wish you many many more for years to come!! stay happy and healthy always!!! seriously have to give it to you for making the best fics i have ever read!! i cannot give you enough credit for having such great depictions of moods and storylines all across every single one of your fics to pick a best one would be literally a debate show within my mind because when have they not hit and lingered in my mind?? i must say as a person who just loves darker concepts your yandere stories were oh so amazing!! very creepy but also hot?? have to make sure you know that 😞 definitely have to find up your ceo(?) series with jaehyun,johnny, and haechan because wow i miss them and doyoung and taeyong 😞 absolutely amazing, frat house and abo have their league of their own! also citrus !!!! why is oranges and beaches so hot 😭 next i its not just them svts series!!!!!!! lord?! everything you write is a chefs kiss muah mwah muah 😞😞 antaric is definitely THE fic to feel love from your besties, ice cold, cabin fever, puppy love, literally any mingyu wonwoo fic, and recently seungcheols abo one ,, the amount of times ive just gone back to reread them is more than i can just count they’re a top pick to hit the spot

anyways again have a wonder day today!! you should know you are highly loved your energy and your way of seeing things is always so refreshing to see! your fics are beyond compliments they’re masterpieces! tysm for working so hard on them 🤍

oh my goodness- I love you so much holy heck- this was such a good list- not you even mentioning Citrine- I've loved that a few people have mentioned my less-known fics even amongst the more well-known ones- gosh this made me feel so special and gooey inside, thank you billions for sending it in! I hope for many more years as well 💕 in fact... this might be a little premature but I'm thinking of writing a full-on book sometime soon 👀 who knows, maybe you'll have a Nova book on your shelf one day ✊😩

thanks again for this message 💕

#inbox #THANK YOU FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES

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dangerous-disposition · 2 years ago

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You said how ever many I wanted sooo

❤️💥🏷️💕💌

🫶🏻

HECK YEAH (i'm working through some writer's block so these asks are helping so much)

❤️What is your favourite line that you've written in a fic?

Oh shit this is so hard actually, because there have been a few!!! There's one line that I keep going back to in my longfic for the last fandom I wrote for, and it's a part where a character has been lying about who he is and has this big Come To Jesus moment and just...

‘Rex Glass’ was a fake name, a fake person, while Juno was so real and beautiful. Nureyev wanted— no, needed Juno to know his name, his purpose for being on Mars. He needed Juno to know him, even if he chose in the end to cast Nureyev aside. He knew, roughly, what it meant for Juno to be in his lap, pulling at his clothes and begging so prettily for more. He didn’t want to fuck Juno while only offering less than half of himself when the detective was giving everything in return. He didn’t want to fuck Juno as Rex glass, he thought with a soft cry when Juno bit his neck again. With a gasp of utter terror, he realized he wanted to make love to Juno Steel as Peter Nureyev, more than anything else in the galaxy. The detective was still working bruises into the skin of his long throat when Nureyev turned his head to whisper, directly into Juno’s ear, “Nureyev.” Juno froze, and Nureyev screwed his eyes tightly shut. “My name is Peter Nureyev.”

There's just!!! His neck is literally bared while he's confessing his deepest, darkest, most tightly held secret. ANYWAY I think about this scene literally all the time when I'm writing literally anything else because I'm so proud of that shit.

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

I mean... other than the obvious in Stranger Things? Idk, I guess I want to see Steve being taken more seriously by the other characters. Like Robin takes him seriously, and Nancy is starting to, but yeah.

🏷️Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

Other than the ship? Generally nah... like unless I'm looking for specific smut? But I'm rarely in a Specific Mood for fics if I'm in a reading mood!

💕What is your favourite fic you've written?

Hmm... this one's tough because like... a lot of my fics I love for different reasons. So I'm gonna discuss all the ones that I think of when you ask me which fics of mine are my favourite!

i could be honest, i could be human - I just think I did a really solid job with characterization and like rereading it right after posting it and I don't hate it? That's a first for me, tbh

and i'm swirling, softly - One of my Juno Steel fics. I really loved delving into the different perspectives of the characters' shared canon trauma!

kiss away young thrills and kills - Another Juno Steel fic. Peter Nureyev character study, my beloved~*~

the bittersweet between my teeth - my Juno Steel longfic. And listen... it would be wild if I wrote a 100k word fanfic and it wasn't one of my favourites of the fics I've written.

💌Is there a favourite trope you like to write?

Oof, I don't know! I don't tend to think about stuff I'm writing in tropes, so I struggle when tagging my fics! I think most of the ships I write end up falling under "idiots in love", does that count?

Thank you so much for your ask!!!!

Send me more Fun Fanfic Author asks!!

#ask game

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chaotictarlos · 2 years ago

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Hi I'm the Love-interest anon. First off, I'm really sorry, I realise based on your response that my phrasing of that ask meant things to you that I totally did not mean. I knew even then that you've never interpreted Carlos as just a Love Interest. And I absolutely was not meaning to call you out or criticise you or anything, though I can see now why my words would have sounded that way to you.

I want to clarify that I wasn't using the term 'love interest' as just someone who the main character sleeps with. I meant it more like, a proper fully loving partner but someone whom we as the audience know much less about, compared to TK. Not the quality of info, but the quantity. Which just unconsciously made ME treat TK as the Main Character.

When I had these thoughts a few days back about my whole love-interest-perception thing, the realisation itself made me uncomfortable because I wasn't aware I'd been thinking about these characters this way. I genuinely thought that I loved and valued both characters equally and could not figure out in the beginning why I was so uncomfortable with S4. And it wasn't a nice feeling realising that I'd had this weird unconscious bias. My knee-jerk reaction to discomfort, much like Carlos, is usually to just avoid it. And I didn't want to lose 911LS, so the way I've tried to rationalise it in my head is - I wasn't completely in the wrong or narrow-minded when I watched the show. I just fell into some of the traps that this type of storytelling can lead to, taking everything shown just as is rather than analysing the characters in equal ways. Like, in my head, screentime translated to how much I thought about the characters basically, so they all fell into typical tropes and boxes. And now I know I need to change some of those notions if I still want to enjoy the show, and step 1 is to actively look at Carlos as beyond just being a love interest.

I saw you mention Carlos-being-treated-as-a-Love-Interest and my thought process in sending in that ask to you was literally just "hey I did that too, but I'm trying to move away from it, let me tell this person why I did and how I realised since they're talking about this". So when I used terms like "this is valid" and "that's false" it was to describe my internal dialogue, and absolutely not to call you out at all.

Anyways, I realise I'm rambling again in this ask too, and since that hasn't gone well already once, I'll stop. I'm just really sorry that I made you feel overwhelmed, and maybe attacked in a way? I didn't mean to. I should have reread the word-vomit once to see how it would sound to you before I hit send.

Hey! Thank you for the clarification! I think, based on this, that we had miscommunication based on terms and our understanding of things. The way I've always viewed "love interest" is someone who is literally just there to be arm candy, etc. That's how I've seen it used in the past in fandoms and by people. Thank you for clarifying what your definition was! That puts things in a different look now!

It can be very hard at times to get what we mean across in a text format.

I think it's good to be made uncomfortable by shows that we adore. Sometimes we hold biases that we don't even know that we hold until we're made to look at them and face them.

I was overwhelmed by just the amount of information in the ask, I try to be transparent in things like that. In no means, do I not want you to send lengthy asks - I do enjoy them and responding to them! It was my way of saying why it took me awhile to reply to it.

I truly do appreciate you clarifying things! I tried hard to not come across as attacking you, and had friends read it over to see if it gave off those vibes - I hope it didn't. Feel free to ramble in my inbox or DMs at anytime!

Discussion is good! And, in my case, helps me to analyze a show and characters that I love dearly.

I hold no negative thoughts towards you and appreciate the opportunity to delve deeper. 💙

#chaotic asks

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clubatsumu · 2 years ago

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heyaaa! how are you? i'm the anon who sent you that ask about "first love" aaah i just wanted to say thank you for the author recs!! i recently finished emily henry's "beach read" and i???? havent read a book this fast since i was a teenager??? lol i'm honestly just REELING i was not prepared for how good it was. the romance, banter, and chemistry was *chefs kiss* they literally had me giggling and kicking my feet o(>ω<)o but!! i also appreciate how it dealt with grief and heartbreak and hopelessness and all the feelings associated with them. (def cried at the ending) i get what you mean when you said “books that go inside rather than outside” …idk i loved how well-written january and gus were…just two flawed individuals trying to figure out their own lives while also trying to figure out each other…......yeah

anyway!! do you have a favorite emily henry book? i'm still not over "beach read" but i'm going to try "people we meet on vacation" next, then "book lovers",, going to check out mia vincy's books as well after i finish emily's!! hehe i also heard she’s releasing a new one this year and i think it's exes-to-lovers/second-chance?? now i cant help but think of "first love late spring" lol brb rereading it for the nth time (╥﹏╥)….

aahh i apologize for rambling but i hope the new year's treating you well!! sending u good vibes!!

BEACH READ!!!!! join the emily henry cult with me friend! i would die for her actually. im so happy you liked it!!:) she has that kind of introspection that hits Just Right and also her books have so many references it's such a fun time to spot them all. tell u what, if u loved the first one, you'll love the rest too, most likely. poppy+alex are SO dear to me, (alex actually makes me feral), and rn they hit the closest to my heart. sometimes though, it's january gus. and book lovers had me CRYING i swear. im so excited for you to go read the rest bc there's really nothing like reading her work the first time.

and mia vincy!!!! her books are much more... somber? in a way. and what i recommend when u read her is to space her work out bc sometimes her characters get so tiring bc they're legit Idiots like pls seek Therapy, but she's also on that character-understanding-driven tier.

EH's new book is called happy place duuude i requested an arc and realized my goodreads hasnt been updated in MONTHS so i legit wrote 10 reviews for 10 different books in a span of an hour so i could send in a request. (i was denied) oh well.

come back and tell me what u think when youve finished them bc id love to hear YOUR ranking 🥺 thank u for this, i hope 2023 sees your vibes and treats me better! sending good vibes right back!

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becasbelt · 3 months ago

Text

The pizza fell out of Beca's hand with a saucy splat.

She rereads Chloe's response. Then reads it again. Then scrolls back a few messages and rereads the entire conversation one more time.

Come over? In response to that?

Beca wasn't entirely convinced Chloe hadn't been replaced by a kidnapper or serial killer or roommate trying to be funny.

She wipes her pizza greased hands off against her sweatpants and types a reply.

Beca - uh. now?

Chloe - Now :)

Fucking hell.

Beca glances at the time. 2:02 AM.

Kind of a weird time to be propositioned by your best friend, but Beca has witnessed stranger things in the early morning hours, so.

With one last glance at her texts, confirming that Chloe does, in fact, want Beca to go eat her out, Beca grabs her keys, checks her breath, and heads out the door.

It isn't until she's standing in front of Chloe's apartment door that the nerves set in.

"Jesus Christ," she says under her breath, staring at the only thing standing in the way between her and an - apparently - Down To Fuck™ Chloe Beale.

Beca should really go home and text Chloe in the morning that she tragically hit her head and passed out right as she was leaving. She should tell Chloe that Stacie got ahold of her phone and was pulling a prank. She should tell her that Beca's 2 AM appetite extends exclusively to shitty frozen pizza that has been sitting in the back of her freezer for two months, which does not include any aspect of the female genitalia, thank you very much.

And really she should stop getting high and texting her hot best friend who she's been crushing on for months late at night. That would be most important.

Beca knocks on the door.

Chloe opens the door with a smile, looking not at all like it's the literal middle of the night.

"Hey!" she greets, grabbing Beca's arm and pulling her inside. Beca stumbles in with a yelp, not even getting a word in before Chloe is talking a mile a minute.

"Thank god you came. I was honestly getting so desperate. I just finished writing a paper and I just feel so wound up, you know? Like, you know that feeling when you just need a break, ugh. But it's the middle of the night! It's like, what was I supposed to do, you know?"

She walks over the kitchen as she rants, facing away from Beca. And honestly Beca is only half listening, because holy shit she's in Chloe's apartment and Chloe is probably expecting excellent head and maybe Beca is going to suck so spectacularly at this that Chloe ends up being physically repulsed by her forever.

Unsure what else to do, Beca shrugs out of her jacket and kicks off her shoes while Chloe continues to talk.

"So anyway-" Chloe opens a cupboard and pulls out two plates - plates? -"thanks for coming, Bec. You seriously have no idea how much I'm looking forward to this." She turns around and cocks her head to the side. "Where'd your shirt go?"

Beca flushes and crosses her arms over herself, standing in her bra and sweatpants. "Uh..."

Chloe's brow furrows. "And where's the pizza?" Bafflingly, she seems more perplexed by the lack of pizza than the lack of shirt.

"Pizza?" Beca asks, now confused as fuck.

"Yeah?" Chloe says, totally lost. "I thought you were going to bring your pizza over?"

"What," Beca croaks.

Chloe pulls out her phone and walks over to Beca, uncaring of her state of undress. Beca squeaks a little and grabs her shirt off the ground, holding it to her chest for some modicum of modesty as Chloe comes to a stop beside her, phone open to their text conversation.

And there it is, clear as day.

Chloe - Samee what u eating?

Beca - pizza

Beca - how about you?

Chloe - OH I WANT PIZZA TOO

Chloe - Come over :)

Beca wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

She points to the traitorous text accusingly. "No! That didn't send! It said it didn't send!" Her voice raises hysterically, and then she points at the text where Chloe mentions wanting pizza. "And that definitely didn't send!"

Chloe raises an eyebrow. "Okay, so you didn't get the pizza memo," she says slowly, like she's calming a wild animal. "That still doesn't explain why you took your shirt off..."

Beca gestures uselessly at Chloe's phone a few more times, sputtering incomprehensibly. Then, she pulls out her own phone and shows the conversation from her end, and buries her face in her hands, defeated.

She can tell the exact moment Chloe puts it all together; she slaps a hand over her mouth, glee in her eyes.

"Beca..." Chloe starts, holding back laughter.

"Please kill me," Beca mumbles into her hands.

"Beca," Chloe says again, grabbing Beca's arm. "Did you come over here thinking this was a booty call?"

Beca invokes the Fifth and contemplates suffocating herself.

"Because if you did..." Chloe continues, trailing off until Beca risks a peak.

Chloe looks far less teasing than she did a moment before, bottom lip caught between her teeth and eyes hooded meaningfully. She gently pries Beca's hands away from her face and steps into her space, and by god Beca can feel the heat radiating off of her like a goddamn furnace.

Beca gulps, mouth dry, and Chloe grins, tilting Beca's chin up with a finger and bringing their faces close enough to brush noses. She finishes her thought before closing the gap entirely.

"Well, maybe we can arrange a late night snack after all."

this feels like something beca would say to chloe bc ofc she has an android with shitty signal when she needs to send a text to her gf wife friend

#this is silly and stupid and like 1% sexy #i haven't written bechloe in forever #wenz are you pleased with yourself for pulling this out of me #bechloe #my writing #whence

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sapphirelass · 3 years ago

Text

Failure - Weasley Family x Weasley!Reader

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧I solemnly swear that I am up to no good✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

'Ello everyone! Once again it's been ages since I posted a story. I promise I am writing!!! I'm just... writing veeeeeerrrrrrryyyy slowly... But hey, what can one do?

Tbh, I'm not too sure about this one, but I have been working on it for weeks now, so I'm just gonna post it and hope someone likes it. I have some other fics coming up (hopefully) soon - and mainly HP actually! I started writing for Percy Jackson, Team Flash, Spider-Man and a few other characters, but I'm in such a Harry Potter mood at the moment (thanks to the 20th-anniversary reunion)... Ahhhh... I don't know! Anyways, I'll get back to writing for someone and let you all enjoy this sad thing for now! See yah!

Note: As always I'm finishing this late at night meaning I will probably have to reread this one more time and check for potential errors, but it's late, so I'm just going to trust Grammarly and post it for now! Enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

+ CEFR level C2 (due to passing the C1 advanced test with an A)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 3,1k

Warnings: Mild swearing, death eaters, cruciatus curse (not very descriptive), angst, feeling anxious

Enjoy! :)

Read as xOC instead of character insert

~~~Failure - Weasley Family x Weasley!Sister~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m serious, dad, there’s nothing to worry about - the plan is fool-proof!”

(y/n) rushed furiously up the stairs of her childhood home with her backpack in her right hand. She had been trying to get everything packed for half an hour, desperately wanting to be 100% ready once her mother would wake up, as it would be next to impossible to prepare for her next job with Mrs Weasley around. (y/n) had however not expected her dad to be too much of a problem - it was usually him who would convince his wife not to worry about the kids every time they left the house - but clearly, the task she had been assigned meant taking a risk so big that even Arthur was hesitant about letting his daughter go.

“I know it sounds that way, sweetie, but this job is not like anything you’ve ever done before, it’s… It’s… It’s different, an-”

It felt both weird and oddly familiar at the same time. She had moved to her own flat a few years earlier and had gotten used to not having overprotective brothers and parents trying to prevent her from going on dangerous missions. Originally, she hadn’t planned to go back ‘home’ until after this job, but her mother had started driving her younger siblings mad, causing them to send a letter asking their older sister to PLEASE come home and help prepare for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It had been a long time since (y/n) last had to handle this situation, but her father seemed to have no problem picking up where they left off.

“How, dad?” She turned around and violently pulled a hand through her red hair, desperately trying to keep her voice down. “Apprehending people who turned to the dark arts is literally my job, at least this time we know what to expect! We just have to transport the death eaters from point A to point B as smoothly as possible, and even if they should try to break free, there’ll be four of them, and twelve of us - surely three aurors could take down one wandless death eater?”

Arthur remained quiet for a few seconds, causing his daughter to put her backpack on the floor, walk a few steps back down the stairs, and pull him in for a hug.

“Look, Dad, I know it’s not without risk, but… I’ve got to go. I don’t think the question any longer is if you-know-who is gonna take control of the ministry, but when, and once that time comes we have to be prepared for anything. The best we can do is make sure the most dangerous people are in a secure place, and well guarded. As much as I hate it, Azkaban is the safest bet, otherwise, they’ll all be back out on the streets, and everything we have worked for these past two years will have been for nothing. We’ll just have to hope that the dementors won’t switch sides. I’m sorry... I love you.”

It wasn’t only a long hug, but a long-awaited one as well.

“I love you too, darling, which is why I don’t want you to do this. I understand your reasoning but…”

“Dad? (y/n/n)? You’re home already?”

(y/n) looked over her dad’s shoulder and immediately walked into the arms of the person who had called her name - her older brother.

“Bill…”

He hugged his sister tightly and put his right hand comfortingly on the back of her head. She was shaking slightly, but Bill pulled her in even closer and put his head on top of hers. This was why (y/n) always tried to prepare, pack and leave quickly every time she was assigned a mission - that way she left no room for any nerves and could focus on the task at hand without getting too scared or anxious. Don’t get it wrong, she loved protecting others and knew it was an important job, but overthinking things just made her realize how much she had to lose. Being around her extremely caring family made that even worse.

“Shhh… (y/n), breathe, easy, you’re fine.”

“Yeah, I know, I know… It’s just, I don’t like thinking too much about it. I’m good, though, and I’ve missed you.”

“I know… ‘n I’ve missed you too. Hey, not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you home? And awake?”

“Mum needed some help with the wedding preparations, and…”

Bill moved his gaze from his sister to his father, silently asking for a response.

“Your sister is leaving for work.”, said Arthur slowly. “It’s just not an easy decision. It’s not-”

“-It’s not safe.”. (y/n)'s gaze wandered nervously around the living room - her parents’ house still being one of the few places where she felt properly at home. She smiled slightly when she noticed a brown plush rabbit sitting on a shelf. It was her favourite toy when she was younger and had been her father’s before her. “Heck, it’s really, really dangerous, but it has to be done. I don’t have a choice, and as much as I would love to stay here with you, the longer I do the harder it becomes to leave.” She sighed. “But I have to go. Bill, will you please tell mum I’m sorry when she wakes?”

Bill looked at his sister, not really wanting to let her go, but understanding exactly how she felt. “Of course.” He grabbed the backpack and handed it to her before placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Stay safe, okay? Promise us that!”

“Bill-”

“(y/n/n)!”

“Stop it! You know I can’t promise something like that. I swear I’ll do my best, though.”

“Good. Then go, I’ll see you next week?”

(y/n) smiled. “Yeah, around lunchtime on Wednesday. Bye, Bill. Bye, dad.”

Arthur looked out the window and sighed sadly as his daughter disapparated. “I remember when I feared for her life because she kept climbing the big apple tree… Now I almost wish she was there, hanging on to one of the top branches, swinging back and forth.” He closed his eyes and leant against the wall behind him. “At least then I could see her. Make sure she didn’t fall.”

“I know, dad. But she’s not a kid anymore.”

“She’ll always be my kid.”

“She’ll always be short.”

“Bill!”

“Jokin’! C’mon, dad, let’s go have a cup of tea, yeh?”

————————

‘The plan is fool-proof!’ (y/n) coughed slightly and regretted her words as she was hit with yet another curse. The plan had been fool-proof… apart from the fact that someone at the ministry clearly had leaked information to the death eaters. The mission had relied on secrecy. It had been planned in secret and only the 12 aurors and a few ministry officials had known the details. Despite that, around 30 death eaters attacked as soon as the transport had left the city, and due to their numbers, the aurors barely stood a chance.

“Jackson, we need to get out of here as soon as possible! There’s no way we’ll be able to fight them all off.”

“You’re probably right, Weasley.”, he shouted while sending a death eater flying off his broom. “But how did this happen? We were so careful!?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” (y/n) swiftly flew out of the way as a flash of green light almost touched her side. “But that doesn’t really matter right now. Wilson’s wounded, can you help him.”

“Sure.”

“And then get out before anyone’s killed.”

He frowned and nodded towards her. “You too.”

“Yeah, course. I’m just gonna try to take Dolohov down. I really don’t want him out and about again.”

The auror seemed to doubt his college’s decision for a second but was familiar with her family’s history with that particular death eater. “Fine, but be careful! I mean it, (y/n/n).” He looked straight into her eyes. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks!”

“Oh, you know me, Jacky. Careful planning, no risktaking.”

“Good. See you in the office tomorrow, then. Good luck.”

————————

(y/n) battled her way through a few death eaters and eventually found herself sneaking up on Dolohov.

“Expelliarmus.”

He turned around in surprise as his wand flew out of his hand.

“Incarcerus.”

Thick ropes bound the death eater, effectively preventing him from escaping. However, (y/n) was so focused on arresting the man who murdered two of her uncles that she completely missed someone approaching her from behind.

“Crucio”

She fell and dropped her wand as intense pain spread through her body. It was pain beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She unwillingly let out a scream as the pain intensified before suddenly lessening. Despite coughing and struggling, she tried to get back up on her feet but fell yet again as the same kind of agony, only a hundred times worse forced her to focus solely on not passing out.

“Well, well, well… We counted on a few random aurors to stand in our way, but who knew we’d stumble upon a blood traitor as well, huh?” The death eater, Augustus Rockwood, leant forward and spat on the ground, right by her face where she lay twitching in the mud. “How does it feel down there, Weasley? Feel at home?” He pulled (y/n) to her knees and Dolohov, who had managed to untangle himself from the rope, walked up to her and grabbed her face roughly. “Striking resemblance”, he whispered before letting her fall again. She fought to get up but failed due to the horrendous curse still causing her pain. Her eyes slowly closed as she passed out on the cold, hard ground.

————————

“Good morning, dears.”, said Molly, cheerfully entering the kitchen after having forced everybody to get up at first light. She had been under extreme stress lately but seemed to be in a much better mood today and the rest of the family knew why - (y/n) was coming home. Sure, that didn’t take away from the fact that the upcoming wedding meant a lot of hard work and careful planning, but having her oldest daughter home would at least help ease Mrs Weasley’s worry. “She’s not back yet, is she?”

“No, mum”, yawned Fred. “but-”

“She said she wouldn’t be back before lunch.”, finished George tiredly.

Their mother didn’t answer, but muttered something incoherent and went to prepare breakfast.

————————

Hours passed as the family worked to get everything ready, both for the wedding and for Harry’s birthday. Molly was so busy with preparations that she completely lost track of time, however, Fred & George started sharing worried glances around 10 am. Bill eventually noticed and had, a few hours later, become way too curious.

“Why do you two keep looking at the clock every other minute?”, he asked. “She said ‘lunch-time’, that could mean another 2-3 hours? Besides, it’s not like you to worry?”

“Well…it’s just…”

“Whenever (y/n/n) lets mum know when she thinks she’ll come home, she usually adds a few hours, sometimes an entire day.”

“That way, when she ends up being slightly late, mum doesn’t immediately lose it…”

“To be honest, we were kind of expecting her in time for breakfast, definitely before noon.”

Bill pulled his hand through his long hair (which he had not allowed his mother and her scissors to come close to) and glanced quickly out the window before looking back at his younger brothers. “Well, there’s not much we can do at the moment, is there? She’s smart and strong. Besides, it’s best not to get worried too easily, it’s probably just that dim-witted head of the department forcing her to work overtime.”

————————

(y/n) groaned loudly as she slowly pushed herself up. She felt dizzy, her entire body hurt and she had no idea where she was. Actually, scratch that last bit. Looking around, she realized she was in a field of some sort and could see burned parts of the now broken carriage they had used to transport the prisoners. Her hair was dripping wet due to the heavy rain and she was freezing. (y/n) struggled to stand and tried to determine roughly where they could have been when they were attacked. She knew that they had travelled northeast from London, towards Norwich, and that they probably hadn’t made it much further than Chelmsford. Her exact location didn’t really matter, though. It’s not like she could walk from London to Ottery St. Catchpole. That would take like two, maybe three, weeks in her current state - and that’s if she made it at all. No, she’d have to apparate, just not the entire distance in one go.

————————

“Bill, dear”, said Molly worriedly. “When did your sister say she’d be back from work?”

“I- I’m not sure”, Bill stuttered, as he sped down the stairs. “Around… dinnertime, I think?”

“What?”, asked Ron. “You said she said lunchtime!?”

Bill threw his head back and sighed as Fred kicked his younger brother under the table.

“Oh”, mumbled Ron, finally understanding. “Yeah, Bill’s right. She definitely said the evening.”

————————

But, dinnertime came and passed. Still no (y/n). When she still hadn't made it home a few days later, the Weasleys were forced to simply accept that something more serious had happened and just try to keep their hopes up. Molly, naturally, refused. Arthur had, while at work, done his very best to contact the other aurors that had been working that night, but unfortunately remained unsuccessful due to the now tense and strained situation at the ministry. Fleur had suggested delaying the wedding, but Bill insisted, claiming that this gave them even more of a reason to do it while they still had the chance. He could, however, barely stand the thought of not having one of his sisters there; it was difficult enough that Percy refused to come…

————————

She didn’t know how much time had passed, maybe a week, but eventually found herself slowly approaching her childhood home. After taking a few heavy steps, she stumbled slightly and would have tripped if not for two strong arms firmly grabbing her shoulders to keep her standing. She should probably be scared but somehow knew not to fight them.

“(y/n/n)!? Bloody hell, what in Merlin’s name happened to you?”

“Charlie?”, she gasped and grabbed her older brother’s coat as her legs suddenly gave out. “Is it really you?”

“Yeh, of course, it’s me.”, he put his sister’s arm over his shoulders. “(y/n/n), I literally just came home, where have you been? What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Work, attacked, Rockwood”

He looked her up and down with a pained expression on his face. “Okay, come on - let’s get indoors.”

They walked slowly, Charlie carefully making sure that (y/n) didn’t fall and simultaneously pepping her with questions. “How long have you been away? When were you supposed to get back to mum and dad’s?”

“Ehhh… I-I don’t know… A couple of days ago, maybe? It’s all kind of hazy right now, to be honest.”

“Holy Merlin… But wha-”

“Charlie, sorry”, she coughed slightly, “but would you mind if we wait? Mum and dad are going to want to hear everything and I don’t wanna have to relive it more times than needed…”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He knocked carefully on the door, and it was only a matter of seconds before Arthur slowly opened it. He had his wand in a tight grip and was about to have Charlie confirm his identity when he noticed the state of the person standing next to his son. Their father’s eyes widened in shock and he looked absolutely horrified.

“Molly! Bill!!”

(y/n) hadn’t heard such fear in her father’s voice since Ginny had been taken into the chamber of secrets four years earlier. He swallowed deeply. “Come in, quickly.”

Charlie put his sister on the sofa just as their mother, older brother and the twins came running down the stairs. They all grinned happily when they saw Charlie, but the smiles faded almost instantly.

“(y/n/n)?” George effortlessly jumped over an old armchair and kneeled by the couch. “Are you okay?” He removed some blood from her face using the sleeve of his jumper.

She smiled and nodded weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t” *cough* “don’t worry. What happened to your ear?”.

Bill and Charlie embraced each other quickly while Molly joined George on the floor. The two oldest brothers both glanced at their sister. She lay so incredibly still; completely motionless save for her steady breathing. Just as those thoughts crossed his mind, Charlie noticed something and was about to point it out when Bill beat him to it.

The oldest brother had walked over to join his family by the sofa and placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “(y/n/n)? You’re twitching.”

“I know.” She sighed deeply. “It’ll pass, though.

He looked deep into her eyes and fought to keep eye contact when he whispered, “was it-”

“Yes”, she answered honestly. “But, Bill, I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay. Besides, it was way worse a few days ago… Speaking of which, what day is it?”

“Wednesday”, said Molly bitterly, obviously understanding the meaning of the words just exchanged between her oldest son and daughter, but deciding not to push it further. “10 days. 10 days, (y/n/n). Not a word?”

“I’m sorry, mum. Truly.” She then explained everything, from the detailed plan to the overwhelming defeat. “Imagine if we had taken them down instead?” She put her head in her hands and sighed sadly. “Imagine how many people will die now, because we let them all go.”

“Sweetie”, sighed Arthur, taking her hands in his. ”You didn’t ‘let them go’. You did everything you could.”

She closed her eyes sadly. “Not enough, dad.”

“(y/n/n)”, said Bill seriously. “You can’t think like that. We’re at war, we can’t go in expecting to keep everybody safe. There will be casualties. Some of the death eaters didn’t make it either. Think instead of all the people who will survive the war now thanks to you.”

“Bill, I know for a fact that Rockwood and Dolohov got away. We’re all…”, she glanced carefully at her mother. “All aware that they won’t hesitate to kill. A-”

“It’s not like they’re invincible now?”, Fred interrupted. “(y/n/n), you’ll get another chance. Just rest now, please. You’ll be back in the field in no time, and it’ll be like this never happened.”

“Sure, bu-”

“No!”, said Molly with a firm tone. “No buts! Fred is right, you need to rest, dear.” She kissed her daughter on her forehead and left the room. The others took that as a sign and left the room with a quick ‘sleep tight’ or ‘g’night’.

(y/n) Weasley tried to listen to her family and put this minor setback behind her. She managed it for a while. At least until that fateful day of the final battle between good and bad. The day when the consequences of her failure became clear. The day her younger brother lost his life because of her.

~ L

Masterlist

Mischief Managed

Nox

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years ago

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hi!

im soooo happy you're unflagged now, slutty chris as your pfp was something i missed a lot when i opened tumblr haha 🫠

anywayy, i was wondering what tips you have for finishing WIPs? like, i have about 6 of them that are pretty long already but each time i open one i write about a paragraph and get unmotivated againn

i really wanna post this multichapter ive been working on since january (it's a dad's best friend trope, if you're wondering 👀) but im writing one last chapter and nothing will come to me :(

do you have any tips for getting motivated or just general things that help you stay focussed?

Hey!

Same! It felt like such a long time 😫 (I mean, it was almost three weeks, so it kinda was a long time, but you know what I'm getting at)

Your wip sounds super interesting. I'm sure they're all devine. Sending you all the ✨️motivation✨️

I don't know if I have tips as much as I can tell you what I do (or what I try to do, at least lol), but anyway, here goes--

I usually don't have more than one "actual" wip at one time, I obviously jot down ideas when they come to me, but I'm not writing multiple full-fledged fics at once. I'm writing a fic, and maybe I'm working on some writing for Tumblr at the same time. Other than that, I just don't. I'm VERY tempted at times, but I force myself to take it one at a time. Even when it might be painful, lol.

(And I'm aware that I'm very privileged to have a brain that works in such a way as to let me write like that.)

Plus, as weird as it sounds, I've found the more I write with a single wip at a time, the more moving onto the next idea I have becomes a reward in of itself.

As far as finishing what I'm working on currently, usually I start with an outline, literal jot dots, for what I want the fic to be. Obviously, it doesn't always follow what I first put down, but there's an outline at least. Then, I go back and fill in that outline where I know nothing is permanent. I literally write the full fic in jot dot form. It just might be missing bits and pieces. It's still in jot dots. After I finish through the whole outline--expanding the ideas into actual writing--I go back, and I go section by section, removing the jot dots while reading for things I might need to change, things I might want to add, etc. After I get through the whole thing that way, I re-read it as a normal piece of writing. Again, changing or adding or removing things or whatever as I go. Then, I usually run it through a program like Grammarly or some shit to catch stuff that I can't catch (thanks dyslexia). Finally, I copy and paste it into AO3, reading it one last time, in a different font.

My schedule for writing on the weekend (soon weekdays, too... almost hello summer 👀) is to write for an hour after I eat breakfast. I'm a morning person, I get up at 6:00 am, then I sit on the couch with my laptop and type for an hour. Usually like 7:00-8:00am. Then I'm done. I'll come back to it tomorrow. It's a routine that's been my routine for a couple of years now, so I don't even really think about it. I just do.

(Also, obviously, if I'm in the middle of a scene or something, I write down what I will need for later, but I have shit to do, so I have to stop.)

When I'm in the middle of writing and I get stuck, usually I scroll back up to what I've written earlier and do some rereading. Or I scroll down and freshen my memory of where I'm trying to take this thing. Then, I integrate back into what I'm trying to write, thinking about the feeling I want to create, what picture I want to paint, what the internal world of the character I am writing is like (what is their "voice"), etc. When words won't come, I think about things other than words--if that makes any sense, lol.

If that doesn't work, rereading, I might take a breather. I drink a lot of tea, so I might go make myself some tea, sometimes thinking about what I'm trying to write, sometimes not. Usually, I get a lot of ideas the second I set my laptop aside, lmao. Or it comes to me when I'm pacing, waiting for water to heat up. Usually, because I write for an hour, I feel pressure to write the whole time, but I don't have to. No one has to do anything. It's all good. Take a breath.

A breather.

I also always listen to music when I'm writing. Almost always music with words but not always the same genre; I'm not just listening to horny music or whatever when I'm writing, so if I'm stuck, I might swap to a new playlist. Maybe one that is intentionally matching for what I'm writing--a more sexual playlist for smut, a softer playlist for romance, an upsetting playlist for angst, etc. Or maybe one that clashes, that always shakes something loose in my brain.

(Listening to straight fucking screamo when writing an intimate, quiet, fragile scene is objectively hilarious, too, so I entertain myself.)

Usually, when I write in the morning, I don't have as much trouble with my dyslexia because I haven't exhausted myself reading and processing the bullshit that letters and numbers do all day, but if it's just a bad day for whatever reason... I might swap fonts and try to keep at it. Usually, I write in Verdana, but I might swap to Comic Sans or something for a while.

Or, if I'm stuck because of dyslexia or anything else, I might just stop for the day. As a perfectionist and workaholic and, just, someone who you could not pay to sit still and not do something, I'm trying to allow myself more times where I can just stop. A lot of the time, I push through, though. I tell myself 10 more minutes, then you're done. A tangible goal can be good.

What really motivates me is getting the fic out. Not even necessarily getting it out and publishing it to AO3 and seeing people's reactions to what I create, although that is undeniably an incredible thing to experience. I feel compelled to write. I like the process of writing. And because I've accidentally created this rule for myself where I have to finish one thing before the next, I have to get something out to start the next. Editing is the WORST, but I will do it to move on to the next. That's just my workaholic nature.

It'll probably kill me one day... it's not the best. As a consequence, I will readily admit I forget what I've written CONSTANTLY. I don't re-read what I write once it's finished. I move on to the next idea so fast that I forget what I did prior until other people bring it up. I'm propelled forward with very narrow vision. Again, it's not the best, and I should learn to stop and appreciate what I've done. It's hard, though.

Also, talking to people about your ideas is always a good way to go. I should do it more, too. I find myself being a very selfish creator. I create from this place of compulsion. I have to get it out. I don't know why, I just do. It's the way I am. And I create alone a lot. I'm an introvert and a highly independent person, I like to be alone, and I like to make things alone. So, it's easy to fall into the same pattern of being private and only showing off what I have when it's fully finished, complete with a sparkling varnish. But that doesn't have to be the way it is. Share bits and pieces, talk about what you're doing, let other people tell you you're doing it! You're doing a good job! They're excited to see the next update, no matter how small!

If you can't/don't want to share, though, a fun way to bounce ideas around is going, okay, I have to make a list of [whatever number, 20, 50, 100, etc.] ideas. They can be absolute fucking garbage, all of them, but I am going to list out as many as I possibly can. If none of them are good, great! They're no longer taking up space in my brain. They're on this list. If one or two are good, great! You can build on those or warp them to fit.

I hope some of that helped, lol. I just tried to explain the way my brain works, and it isn't pretty, lmao.

#whiteglovemanor #asks #writing tips #writing

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recurring-polynya · 2 years ago

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Writing/Art Update 11/26/2022

Oh, I was doing so well...

this could be permanent you know is very close to completion. I am on the literal last scene of the fanfic. It just happens to be a very long and important scene. I probably would be done now, if it weren't for Thanksgiving, because I had to spend all of Wednesday baking and then Thursday and Friday were mostly taken up with traveling and eating and being social, and now my momentum is in tatters.

I really don't have very much left to go-- I have to finish the scene I'm on, of course, and there were two things that I forgot to put in and want to go back and see if I can, and there is one chapter that I didn't like the ending, so I may see if there's anything I can do about that. Then I have to reread all six chapters and send them to the beta. I have not particularly wanted to re-read my own writing lately, which is a thing that sort of comes and goes. On one hand, when I enjoy re-reading, it wastes a lot of time because I'd rather re-read than write new, but on the other hand, I catch a lot more errors and end up with a much more polished end product.

Anyway, The Work for this week added up to 5444, which is distinctly Not Bad considering how much time I lost to Festivities. I'm really pleased, actually, because I should be able to finish up the actual writing of the thing by or just past the end of November. That leaves me all of December to do Renruki week stuff. I'm hoping the combination of short projects should go well with Christmas hassle (I did put up half my lights today because the weather was nice). I am pretty sure I am going to take up the next part of Heart is a Muscle again in January. Take me home...country roads...to Soul Society...where I belong. I yearn to once again write Byakuya being aggravated by the irksome presence of his lieutenant and also Zabimaru being a gigantic pain in the ass. Anyway, that's looking too far ahead, I gotta keep my eyes on the prize. Hopefully I'll have some fic for you in December!

Oh, also, I have been very neglectful in answering my ao3 comments, and I have not forgotten you, it's just that it really derails my brain to do those, so I've been trying to pound this out and then get back to them. I also closed my asks for the same reason, in case you were wondering. Thank you all for your patience with me, as always!

#writing update #art update

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koolkat9 · 2 years ago

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💖

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

💖 What made you start writing?

I was writing since I was little. I literally found a book a month or so ago of a story from before I could even properly write for myself. I had drawn the pictures and then told my mother and grandmother what to write. It was a hilarious read honestly. I still wonder what happened to that prince and princess and if their parents ever did let be together.

But I didn't seriously start writing or I guess it's more like I didn't consistently start writing until like...2020? Like I had story ideas in the past I tried to write out, only to give before I barely begun. There was actually a period of time where I wrote a sequel idea to Rise of the Guardians and actually thought I could send it to Dreamworks and have them see it (and possibly produce it). Guess you could say that was my first fanfiction xD (before I even knew what fanfiction was). Like all I remember is that it focused on Pitch Black's daughter and she was found by the guardians and...That's all I remember. Her name was Twilight. Perhaps I could draw her at some point because I remember what I wanted her to look like. Gosh I'm rambling.

Anyway 2020. I get the book Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. Main character is a fanfiction writer who goes to school to make a career out of writing (funny how my life is becoming just that). After reading that book I was like "I want to write fanfiction." I didn't really know where to start. Arthur was my fav character and at the time and with my limit experience only have looked on Wattpad and some Fanfiction.net (specifically older fics) I felt the fandom did him dirty (yes I'm talking about the 2012 uwu must protect England). But I wasn't into any England ships. Then I thought of my OTP of the time: Ger//Ita. But I did not feel comfortable writing for Italy. Then I remembered hand-holding buddies were a thing. Erroneous Epilogue had just been made a few months ago so GerEng was still fresh in my mind. Even before shipping GerEng I held the headcanon that Lud and Art got together for a football match in memory of the 1914 Christmas Truce. I was like: "I can use that headcanon and make a GerEng fic." Because GerEng had very few fics to it's name especially on Wattpad which is the site I started on. Eventually, when everything shut down and I found I had a lot of time on my hands I began writing everyday and I soon fell in love with these two dorks and they became my new OTP.

Honestly I'm getting a little emotional writing this because, like I've shared in a previous ask, I just got into the creative writing stream for uni and writing is thus becoming more serious. It's just...hard to believe how much writing has been involved in my life and how I didn't start taking it so seriously until I began writing fanfiction. If it wasn't for Fangirl, if it wasn't for GerEng, who knows if I would be where I am now.

And I'm also emotional because when I started out writing, I of course hoped to gain some traction, but I never imagined I would get to where I am now. I never thought I'd find such lovely online friends. I never thought I'd write something people would come back to reread when they felt down. I never thought I'd get so many followers who are all wonderful and who binge my writing and find comfort in it. And I definitely never thought I would actually get fanart for the fics I write. It's amazing to see how far I've come and I can't wait to see where I go from here.

Sorry... That last bit wasn't really part of the question but I had to get it off my chest. Thank you, everyone. For supporting me and for your lovely comments.

#fanfiction writer #fanfiction asks #fanfiction ask game #ask game #hetalia #hws

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hotshot9 · 3 years ago

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18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end If you want to :)

You send me writer ask 🥺💜😭🥺💜😭🥺💜🥺😭

First, I wanna say that this made me reread several of my fics and I'm sitting here 1) making high-pitched "oh my god they're so cute" noises at Sana and Wolffe and 2) rather impressed with some of the things I've written 😆

Secondly, this is probably a bit more than a passage 😅 But it's got an actual backstory and an actually documented change!

The fic this came from is called simply Ow.

Lights totally off, curtains pulled tightly shut against the bright Yavin sun, the quiet shush of a fan blowing cool air across his back, Wolffe pressed the right side of his face deeper into the pillow with a groan. The pain lancing through his eye socket lessened and he sighed at the momentary relief. But then the door slid open with a soft whoosh and a narrow strip of light beamed across the dark room, making Wolffe wince away and tuck his head further into his nest of pillows. As suddenly as it came, the beam of light cut off when the door slid back shut. The quiet shuffle of footsteps crossed the room, coming to a stop next to the bed as the side of the mattress dipped down and a cool hand gently rested on the back of his neck.

“Wolffe? Cyare? Sinker commed and said you’d gotten a migraine and gone to lay down. How are you feeling?” Sana pitched her voice low and soothing, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on the skin of his neck.

Wolffe shifted so he could peer blearily up at her with his left eye, keeping the cybernetic one squashed firmly against the pillow. “Like sticking an ice pick through my temple would hurt less,” he grumbled.

Sana smiled fondly at him. “That wouldn’t be the best idea you’ve ever had, my love. Have you taken the medicine Kix gave you?”

“Not yet,” Wolffe answered, face crumpling as pain shot through his head again.

So the inspiration for this particular piece came from my own experiences. I suffer from migraines and have several a year. I figured, since Wolffe has a cybernetic eye, he might also suffer from migraines because of the tech connecting to his optic nerve (and maybe not being the best tech because, you know, the GAR), so it just kinda worked it's way into my headcanons.

I used a lot of my own experiences here - the quiet, dark, cool set up of the room, the squishing half your face into a pillow, the not taking your meds immediately because you just blindly flail your way to someplace you can lay down... And the ice pick comment is something I have actually said nearly every time I get a migraine 😂

And it is, of course, always very nice when someone comes in and tries to soothe some of the pain away and makes sure you take your medicine.

But the change from start to finish of this is - initially I was going to do this from Sana's point of view. I had a piece started called Code Grey where Sinker comms her while she's in a meeting that Wolffe has a migraine but - it just never felt right. So I abandoned it. Until one day I had another migraine and the lightbulb clicked on - I needed to write from Wolffe's pov. From the viewpoint I knew and had experience with. Anyway, under the cut is what I had written of Code Grey before I (rightly) abandoned it.

Thank you so much for the ask!!!! I could go on for days about my writing 😅 so writer and OC asks literally make my day!

Hey, D! I didn't remember it before, but you're in this one! I had your character as the medic when I first tried writing this 😊

"So I think - " Sana was finishing a report to General Orin and Marshall Commander Bengi when the crackle of her comm cut her off.

"Sana? Ori'vod?" The slight panic in Sinker's voice came through even over a burst of static.

She frowned and looked to the General for permission to answer. Orin nodded.

"Sinker? I'm in the middle of a briefing. What's going on?"

"Code Grey," he answered, his tone clipped and serious.

Sana put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Force. Did he at least take the medicine D2 prescribed him?"

Makes me want to go back and change Ow to have D2 as the medic there, too 💜 (although I bet I can guess your response to that idea 😏)

Thank you again for the ask! I loved it 😁

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